Damned Children of Naor

By Justyna Plichta-Jendzio

Evil lurks everywhere and only waits for the opportunity to hunt down and devour the souls of its victims. It is all the same to the evil whether those souls belong to slaves, peasants, monks, nobles or kings. Every mortal must make a choice whether he wants to devote his soul to perdition or save it, even at the cost of life. This battle has been fought for millennia and its arena is every corner of Naor. Anyone can become a warrior and his main arms will not be a weapon forged by smiths’ hammers but faith given by the gods of lightness.

This time the goddess of fate chose Isilai, a merchant’s daughter from the far south, who was dreaming of traveling and leading a free life. The goddess’s finger also pointed to Sainal, a mercenary returning from wars to her lands. Valbern, an aide to a powerful lord Kolbren, has not been spared the test as well. Each of them had to face the evil. Did they decide to sacrifice what was the most precious in their lives to keep their souls away from hell?

• Language: English
• Publisher: eXtasy Books Inc
• Release date: Jul 15, 2015
• ISBN: 9781487403652

Book preview

In the struggle between good and evil, no one remains neutral. Choose one of the sides and choose wisely, because the gods will weigh your soul.

Evil lurks everywhere and only waits for the opportunity to hunt down and devour the souls of its victims. It is all the same to the evil, whether those souls belong to slaves, peasants, monks, nobles or kings. Every mortal must make a choice whether he wants to devote his soul to perdition or save it, even at the cost of life. This battle has been fought for millennia and its arena is every corner of Naor. Anyone can become a warrior, and his main arms will not be a weapon forged by smiths’ hammers, but faith given by the gods of lightness.

This time the goddess of fate chose Isilai, a merchant’s daughter from the far south, who was dreaming of traveling and leading a free life. The goddess’s finger also pointed to Sainal, a mercenary returning from wars to her lands. Valbern, an aide to a powerful Lord Kolbren, has not been spared the test as well. Each of them had to face the evil. Do they decide to sacrifice what was the most precious in their lives to keep their souls away from hell?

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Damned Children Of Naor

Copyright © 2015 Justyna Plichta-Jendzio

ISBN: 978-1-4874-0365-2

Cover art by Richard Yalowy

All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

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Devine Destinies, an imprint of eXtasy Books Inc

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Smashwords Edition

Damned Children Of Naor

By

Justyna Plichta-Jendzio

Chapter One: Time of Storms

Twenty-one-year-old Isilai, in the company of Ngami, her slave and maidservant, was coming back from the temple on Naynram Hill about half a day’s journey from Ganarra, the capital of the kingdom of Carandia. In this small temple Isilai had made a gift for the successful return of her younger sister, Dibari, from her pilgrimage to the city of Dassab. Eighteen-year-old Dibari had started to menstruate recently and also had a dream in which the goddess Finieri embraced her in her arms. A local priest and a fortune teller interpreted it as the goddess’s request to receive a sacrifice in her temple located far south in the city of Dassab. Sir Kiburu, Isilai and Dibari’s father—although not a very God-fearing man—had decided it was better not to underestimate the explicit will of the powerful goddess. Although it was a risky expedition, Sir Kiburu sent Dibari with gifts and guards to the temple. The girl was to spend a few days with her aunt and uncle who lived in that city, and she was supposed to return in three days.

Worried about her sister, Isilai had decided to beg for the mercy of Dibari’s happy return. Early in the morning she went to the temple on Naynram Hill, where she immolated satika shells and a casket of precious spices.

Late in the afternoon, Isilai returned to the city. She and Ngami walked on the footbridge leading from one temple hill to another. The footbridge was erected on high stone pillars, so that during the heavy inflows of water from the Lidangao River it constituted the only connection to the mainland. Now the plain was dry, but the water was supposed to come soon. They could have gone under the bridge and taken the shortcut, which would definitely shorten their way, but Isilai wanted to admire the views. She did not come here often, as she usually visited the city houses of the gods.

The inflow of water should start any day now. The wells in the city are almost dry, and it is difficult to get fresh vegetables, complained Ngami. The palace buys the best produce, and it is hard to choose something suitable to eat from what is left.

It is the time of fasting. The gods purposefully gave us such a special time so that we could cleanse our bodies and souls, Isilai reminded her.

Ngami snorted.

Let the priests fast. It is their duty, they serve the gods. I have to eat to have the strength to work.

Isilai just smiled. She was well aware of Ngami’s passion for good food. She could only guess what tortures Ngami suffered eating only cooked lentils and dried fish.

Enjoy what nourishment you have in your bowl, Ngami. Many people are currently living on lizards or roots dug out near the drying ponds on the plain.

After this remark, Ngami went silent. They walked in silence, passing groups of pilgrims heading to the temple.

Just before evening, when they were close to the city walls, Isilai felt strange. Her heart pounded vividly and a cold shiver went through her body. She was beset by a sudden anxiety that was rising with every passing moment. She stopped and looked around nervously.

* * * *

Has something happened, ma’am? Ngami asked.

Isilai did not answer. She gasped quickly as though in a panic, unable to breathe. She grabbed her head and staggered, barely able to stay on her feet.

Catch your mistress, she is fainting! Ngami said quickly, assessing the situation.

A nearby slave caught her in his arms, but suddenly froze.

As Ngami watched Isali, she saw that her eyes, open and gazing skyward, were unnaturally shiny. Blue sparks glittered on her hair and white fire lingered over her forehead, resembling streaks of mist rather than flames.

My gods! the slave violently lay Isilai on the ground and jumped away from her like a meerkat from an attacking snake.

Ngami was astounded as well. Run to Sir Kiburu and tell him what has happened. I’ll stay with Isilai.

The slave did not argue but rushed away immediately.

Ngami squatted nearby, looking at her charge with helplessness and despair. Isilai was lying motionless, her eyes still wide open. The whites of her eyes were now a light silver color and her pupils were narrowed. She did not move, did not even twitch. Her whole body was surrounded by something like white flames that looked as if they were woven from a very thin mist that floated upwards. She was breathing shallowly but quickly, almost like a panting dog. Ngami was afraid to touch her because she did not know what forces had seized her mistress. She could only pray for her and wait for the arrival of help from the home of Sir Kiburu.

* * * *

Far to the west of the kingdom of Carandia, in the foothills of the Mandruk Mountains, twenty-one-year-old Prince Tarragon watched with satisfaction as the servants brought slaughtered animals to his camp. His friend and cousin Prince Narsud, the son of the sister of the dead King Harubal, rode up to him and expertly dismounted.

Good hunting, Narsud said, assessing the results of the hunt.

We had to find some amusement after our tiring trip. Tarragon reached for the wine with ice sitting on a nearby table. Has the expedition returned from the mountains?

They are in the camp in the valley. They have a lot of ice, so the meat will be protected and will make it to the capital.

That’s good. The hattangs got fat during these weeks. They’ll be able to carry many crates of ice and meat. The people will have enough stock to last until the waters of Lidangao and herds of animals return to Qudruango, and it will not be necessary to stop to provide food for the army on the way.

Both men gazed out at their herds of horses and hattangs grazing on the slopes. There was a little greenery here because the wind brought moisture from the snows melting in the mountains, and the larger rivers that reached the foot of the hills provided the plants with life-giving water.

The large, heavy hattangs greedily devoured the plants. They were larger than elephants with huge bodies, long necks covered with long, thick silky manes and small heads crowned with horns. In older individuals, the horns grew downwards and a little to the sides before curving forward. The hattangs’ snouts resembled a camel’s, and their legs were similar to elephants’ legs, ending in three fleshy, widely spaced fingers with nails at the ends. These allowed the animals to tread firmly even on unstable ground, perfectly distributing the weight of their bodies over the terrain. Their tails were fleshy and not too long, covered with the same hair as their mane. Their skin was similar to an elephant’s as well, but of a brown color that had different shades from beige to almost black in various places. Depending on the season they could become overgrown with hair, like many animals living in northern countries in the winter. The exception was the hattangs in Carandia, which remained hairless.

* * * *

The royal cousin also downed a cup of cold wine. In this heat it tasted wonderful. He was pleased at the prospect of their return to the capital. He awaited their triumphant return after their successful expeditions to the territories of the rebellious principalities of Dreqer, Hambe and Yatug. They had fought in several battles, gathered their rightful tribute and were now carrying prisoners who were supposed to be presented to people in Carandia. The overthrown rulers were replaced by Carandia’s people, subordinate to the kingdom. A governor of the province was appointed, and was supposed to control the three princes for a year in order to observe if they expressed any separatist tendencies.

Where is Kaynab? asked Tarragon.

He went on a tour in the area, Narsud muttered reluctantly.

Kaynab was the son of an insignificant noble family from the far south of the country. He had come to the capital to be trained in the royal school for officers. It was an elite school and only sons of the most influential families were admitted to it. The fact that Kaynab was admitted meant that his parents had to pay a lot of gold to bribe the qualifiers, but it had paid off. Kaynab proved to be a gifted student and quickly obtained an officer commission. Now he accompanied the heir to the throne and his friend during their expedition. Narsud did not like him—Kaynab competed with him for the favor of the future king of Carandia.

When are we leaving? Narsud asked, putting down his bowl that was immediately filled again by a slave.

The day after tomorrow. I think that the butchers will be ready with the meat then.

Narsud looked at his cousin with slight amusement.

It is a pity you have to part with Hanusar. Why don’t you take her to Ganarra?

She’s a shepherd’s daughter. The prince bridled at the questions.

So what? Aren’t there any peasant women in the harems?

Can you imagine her among the ladies of high families? She does not know anything. Even her speech hurts the ears. She is uninteresting outside the bedroom.

So keep her in a country estate.

No. She is not suitable for such a life. She would probably run away after some time. I’ll give her some jewelry and let her find a husband here.

Narsud downed another cup of wine and looked at the sky. The clouds were slowly beginning to gather.

The gods are gracious to us again. The water will flow soon, and the Mandruk Mountains aren’t wearing their white coat anymore. How is it possible that there was snow and ice in such a heat?

Naor and the work of the gods are never explored.

The heir to the throne ordered a horse brought to him. He was going to go to a small settlement used by the shepherds as a temporary shelter when they grazed their flocks in these areas. Hanusar awaited him there. Narsud nodded to two of his men who began to follow the crown’s successor, keeping a sufficient distance. They could never be too careful.

When Narsud rode up to the hut, one of the villagers leaped to his horse to hold him while another curled up at the horse’s side so the prince could get down to the ground on his back.

Hanusar came out of the hut. She was already clean, lubricated with homemade perfumes and adorned in the best jewelry that she had, made by herself. Her hair was elaborately braided and tied high in a knot at the back of her head, interwoven with shells and beads from animal horns and bones. The girl was slender, but she had strong thighs that demonstrated the strength of her legs and the fact that she was accustomed to long walks. She had a short leather skirt that served as her entire garment, also adorned with shells and beads that rattled every time she moved. Her breasts, large and slightly pointed with dark brown nipples that rippled seductively, were bare. Prince Narsud, remaining behind his companions, eyed her up with an appraising look. It was a pity that in a few years her breasts would droop, as was the case of most women of the nomadic tribes. But for now, they attracted the eye.

At the sight of the prince co-regent, Hanusar grinned, revealing beautiful, even, snow-white teeth. When he approached her she knelt down to show him respect, but Narsud’s watchful eye noticed that she fleetingly stroked the successor’s thigh with her hand, right at his crotch. Narsud just smiled to himself. He would let Tarragon have some fun. Other duties would soon await him. The royal cousin followed the prince with his gaze when he moved away from the village and behind the rocks where the girl had prepared bedding made of freshly woven mats. She had placed tufts of grass underneath to ease the hardness of the ground. No one would bother them there and they would not feel awkward.

It is going to rain, Lord, one of the soldiers said as he carefully studied the sky.

It’s high time, said Narsud.

If it starts to pour, the plains will become swampy and many of the trails will be easier to swim across than walk.

We’ll make it, the prince calmed him, looking at the puffs of clouds gathering over their heads. It is a characteristic feature of these clouds that they do not produce rain. Before it starts to rain here, we’ll be in the capital.

The soldiers tied the horses to the acacia trees and lit a small fire. One of them prepared an antelope that they were wanting to cook while waiting for the successor to finish his dalliance with his lover. The meat was ready, so they just put it over the fire and waited patiently until the meat was cooked.

The soldiers killed time by telling stories from their last trip. They told each other of the blows they had given to their opponents, they presented swords they had wielded so bravely and they laughed while mocking facial expressions of their dying enemies. Narsud listened to them with a smile, but he did not let himself be dragged into their conversation. He remained vigilant despite the noise made by his subordinates. He kept an eye on all the villagers who were taking care of their flocks, which were closed in at night in pens woven from sticks and thorny acacia bushes. He also kept watch for potential predators that might try to sneak in, lured by the smell of the cooking animal. Those predators would end up hunting man instead of antelope.

Finally the savory smell of meat interrupted the soldiers’ chatter. They cut off pieces of the antelope using knives and greedily devoured them. They had not eaten anything since morning, and now they had a chance to fill their bellies with tasty meat. Narsud also ate, but kept the amount and how quickly he ate in moderation. He did not want to get a stomachache.

Suddenly, he moved. He felt a cold touch on his left arm. Then another one on his right arm. When he raised his head, he did not see the night sky lit with thousands of stars. Instead there was a dark, ragged cloud, its edges illuminated by the cold light of the moon. It was immense, but alone. Farther away in the sky were small puffs of clouds, so infrequently placed that the stars shone through them.

Thank the gods that they bring relief to this land, one of the soldiers said as he felt the raindrops on his body.

But Prince Narsud did not like this cloud. Typically these loose puffs slowly formed larger clumps that created heavy mounds and sank lower to finally pour down an abundant rain. But he had never seen a single cloud like this before.

Suddenly, he saw something like a spark move through the cloud. He had never seen anything like that before either.

Did you see that?

What, my lord? One of the soldiers wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and his gaze followed the direction in which his commander was looking. His companion did the same.

Nothing happened for a long time. The soldiers were about to look away when another spark ran across the surface of the cloud again. It did not move with great speed, but slowly flowed down like a water drop down on a very uneven rock.

It’s lightning, Lord.

Lightning doesn’t look like that. Narsud slowly stood up and carefully looked at the sky. I’m going to get the successor.

He had walked a few steps when a powerful flash of light momentarily blinded him. After a moment, a powerful boom of thunder drowned out all other sounds, and its echo, like the roar of falling rocks, rolled across the sky. Narsud blinked. Under his eyelids he still had a picture of a dazzling silver zig-zag with several thinner branches.

The flash had illuminated a small acacia under which the prince was standing with the peasant woman. Narsud also thought he saw another figure standing near the tree, but it disappeared almost immediately, like the glow of the lightning.

A second flash occurred after a few moments, and Narsud did not see the third figure. he wondered whether it was a hallucination. He could not say to whom this silhouette had belonged, though it seemed to him that it was female. It was more a feeling than factual reasoning, but there was no time to think now.

Tarragon? he called.

Silence was his answer. The prince felt his heart rise to his throat. He tossed away a portion of the meat he had been eating and rushed toward the place he had last seen the prince and Hanusar. He headed toward the small light of the bonfires, which had been kindled to deter animals. The soldiers looked at each other, amazed at his actions, then raced after their commander.

After several dozen steps in almost total darkness, Narsud reached the place where, until recently, the two young people had been enjoying each other’s presence. What he saw made his knees buckle under him. The acacia tree was barely damaged. It was only singed on the top, and there was a line of chipped bark about a third of the way down. But Narsud was not interested in the tree. Near the roots was Hanusar, naked. She was not moving. Her limbs were splayed and her eyes wide open, frozen in an expression of pain. Apart from that she looked as if nothing had happened to her.

Narsud did not worry about her. In the glow of a small fire he saw Tarragon’s body lying on the ground nearby. The successor was lying on his side in a fetal position with his hands slightly outstretched toward the front of his body.

Narsud jumped to his cousin. He touched his neck and sighed with relief. He felt a pulse.

She’s dead! he heard from his subordinate, who was now checking Hanusar.

Two villagers ran up while the rest stayed with the flocks that, agitated by the boom of thunder, had nearly crushed the low fence. Hanusar’s father ran to the girl. He processed the situation with one glance and then knelt near his dead daughter and began to wail loudly. He placed her head in his lap with one hand and stroked her hair. With the second hand, he poured sand from the ground onto his head and hit the ground. The other peasants joined him and raised an even higher lament.

Narsud was not interested in the crying shepherds. For him, everyone could die if only the heir to the throne lived. He sat by his successor, raised the unconscious prince’s head up and leaned it between the thigh and calf of his right leg.

Give me water, he ordered his soldiers, and pick one of yourselves to go to the camp for a medic!

One of the soldiers ran to the place where they had left the horses. Luckily, they had not managed to undo their ties and escape in fright. Another soldier took a water bag from his belt and handed it to Narsud. The prince began to wipe the face of the unconscious man with water and pat his cheek. It was many minutes before the prince finally groaned.

Tarragon, you are alive! Thanks to the gods of lightness, you’re alive.

The heir to the throne quickly regained consciousness. He sat up and vacantly looked around.

Where am I? he mumbled.

In the camp of the shepherds, Narsud explained. A tree was struck by lightning. You were close, Tarragon.

The heir to the throne blinked.

I cannot see...

Narsud looked around scared. The bystanders could not know that something had happened to the heir to the throne. If any rumors reached the capital before their return, it would be a disaster. A slight deterioration of sight could be hidden, but what if Her Highness, the queen co-regent Manusar, became aware of this? What if the successor lost his sight permanently? He would not sit on the throne, and the lack of any other successor would trigger a storm at court. It was necessary to act very carefully.

Do not talk loudly, Tarragon, we are not alone.

I cannot see...

Help me, Narsud beckoned to the soldier.

They both helped the prince stand up and slung him between them over their shoulders in order to reach the horses. Here they helped Tarragon climb into his saddle. The man could barely remain sitting—he was shaking and curled up as if he had a stomachache. Narsud, however, was determined to remove him from the eyes of the outsiders. If his injuries could be cured, he would delay their return to the capital under some pretext and let Tarragon recover. But the prince could not be seen in this state. The king had to be seen as a god, not a weak mortal.

They were halfway to the main camp when they heard hoof beats. It was the soldier who had been sent for the doctor and the doctor himself. Narsud was pleased at the lack of any other armed men. The soldier had most likely not said anything about the accident to anyone. He praised his subordinate in his mind and promised himself to reward the soldier later.

The medic jumped from his horse and ran to the prince.

Is he alive? the man’s voice trembled with anxiety.

He’s alive, but not well, Narsud said.

Give him blankets, the medic ordered the soldier who was accompanying him.

They put some rugs on a flat place on the ground and laid the prince on them. The medic covered the prince with the rest of the rugs.

The sound of hoof beats reached Narsud’s ears again. It was probably some worried soldiers who wanted to get some information about their master. The prince could not let them see him in such a state. Narsud gestured to two of his helpers to order them to run forward to the newcomers and forbid them to approach. But after a moment it turned out that there was no such need. It was only Kaynab with two of his soldiers.

I saw the lightning that struck in the vicinity of the camp. He paused for a moment when he saw Tarragon supported by Narsud. Did he...? he did not finish, and his usually grim face twitched with emotion.

He is alive, said Narsud.

Kaynab’s face took its grim expression again, as if the young man was eternally dissatisfied for some reason.

I cannot see... whispered Tarragon again.

The medic brought a torch close to the prince’s eyes and lifted his eyelids. Despite the very difficult conditions of the examination, he sighed with relief after a moment.

It will pass, My Lord.

Are you sure? Narsud moved closer.

Yes. I have seen such cases. Let me check out the rest of your precious body, My Lord.

Feeling calmed, Narsud nodded in