Krul’Dar had spent several weeks watching Kor’Thank from afar. A few days ago, he’d lost track of the king in a blinding downpour. The desert storms could strike with alarming speed; clear skies one moment, slashing tempests the next.
Krul was the only Indashi who cared for Kor’Thank. Everyone else thought of him as the ultimate warrior. Krul, however, recognized this attitude for what it truly was: complacency. Sadly, it came as no surprise. Bellies were full and roads were safe.
Only Krul’Dar, Chief Chronicler, heeded the lessons of those who had come before.
Fortunately, his position came with a fair amount of influence. He’d persuaded Volcasian Firehand, Captain of the Guard, to lend him a forty-man detail. Volcasian had grudgingly relented; a request from the Chronicler was no small thing.
“Ho, Chronicler!” Orcasi Kylen, First Sword of his ten-man skoold, called loudly. “Look to the west!”
Krul’Dar swiveled his velociraptor mount thirty degrees left. A lone figure was running across the sands. Definitely male…the same build as Kor’Thank…could it be?
“Steady on my heels!” Krul’Dar shouted. He urged his mount forward and his troop followed, spreading out into an arrowhead formation. Seconds later, Krul’s heart leapt in his chest—it was him! Whole and unharmed, praise Akanax!
But when he halted before the king, a flash of doubt raced through his mind. There was something off about Kor’s expression…and the way he held himself…
“My liege? How fare you?”
Kor’Thank looked him up and down, clearly puzzled. “Uh…do I know you?”
Krul’Dar’s heart sank in his chest. “ ’Tis I—your Chief Chronicler. Do you not recognize me, Kor?”
Devilish calculation flitted through the king’s eyes, causing Krul’Dar’s heart to drop a notch further. The king was savage, yes, but he’d never been deceptive outside of battle. He had an aptitude for strategy, but ironically (and blessedly, in Krul’Dar’s opinion) his guile had never bled over into personal dealings. This was different. This was—
“My Chief Chronicler,” Kor’Thank said slowly. “So that would make me…”
“You are my king,” Krul’Dar said in a neutral tone.
“Your king…” Kor’Thank surveyed the troop. “So you serve me. All of you.”
“That is correct.”
“You’re all riding dinosaurs…do I get one too?”
Krul’Dar wrinkled his brow—what the blingcock was a dinosaur? “If you wish for a war-raptor, any one of us would gladly relinquish our mount. Indicate which steed is to your liking and—”
Kor’Thank flapped his hand, a gesture that said not now. “Maybe later. I’m enjoying my run. Good cardio, you know? Lead the way, Cruller.”
As the men headed home, Krul’Dar’s unease blossomed into heavy, cold dread.
What the in the Seven Hells was a cardio?
Holly didn’t know who these roid-monkeys were, but they were ready to serve her, and that was what mattered. She didn’t want to tip her hand—trying to ride a dinosaur like a complete noob would be a glaring hint that she wasn’t their king, which might turn them against her.
She had to play it close to the vest.
As ridiculous as it seemed, running beside dinosaurs wasn’t an issue. Thanks to the wormy-squirmies, she was barely sweating. She felt like she could out-squat the Rock, then take first place in the Boston Marathon.
She let a few minutes pass, then decided to open with a half-truth: “Cruller. I’m not the person you once knew.”
The guy named after her favorite kind of donut glanced down from atop his seven-foot raptor. “You’re not?”
“Pieces of my mind are…something happened to me out in the desert. I’m still confused as to what it was, exactly, but…” She shook her head. “I need your help. To remember who I am.”
Some of the tension bled from his features. “I suspected as much,” he said. “Perhaps you were ambushed by a rogue sorcerer.”
It took deliberate effort, but she kept her face blank. Sorcerer. Apparently, magic was real here. She struggled with the concept for a couple of seconds, then she realized it made perfect sense—she was in someone else’s body, after all.
Either that or she was still tripping balls.
“Sorcerer. Right.” She continued springing effortlessly across the sand. “I’m saying your name wrong, aren’t I? It isn’t ‘Cruller.’ ”
“Krul’Dar.” He pronounced it slowly, placing emphasis on each syllable: Krool Dahr.
“And you’re my…Chief Chronicler, was it?”
Another nod. “That is correct.”
“My kingdom—how far does it extend?”
As Krul’Dar’s mount leapt over a cactus, a bright spear of sunlight glanced off his wrist brace. “From the Desolate Shoals to the Glimmering Reef. About eight hundred keltins from coast to coast.”
“Eight hundred kel—what’s that in miles?”
Krul’Dar wrinkled his brow. “You’ll have to ask Hunbo, our Chief Mathemateer. ‘Miles’…that’s a term I haven’t heard in quite some time, but I’d say…twenty-four hundred, give or take?”
Holly couldn’t keep the surprise off her face. “Twenty four hundr—” Almost as big as the United States. She cleared her throat and regained her composure. “East to west or north to south?”
“East to west. Our northern expeditions are cut short by the Icy Breaks. Our southern incursions are limited by the Ankaran Mountain Range. Indashi supply trains are unable to traverse it en masse, as the terrain is rough and tricksy. Not only that, but Flaysac’s bandits have fortified the passes. ’Tis not a concern—there’s nothing there except blood and ruin.” He shot a quick look at her, afraid he’d overstepped his bounds. “Or so you’ve told me on multiple occasions. It was not my intention to place words in your mouth.”
“That’s okay,” Holly gazed at the desert expanse looming before her. “I don’t have much to say.”
There was a long, pregnant silence.
Then: “Not yet, anyways.”