Darion awoke in a bed, an unfamiliar softness. Unknowingly to him, residing in Toonda’s home. He tried to call out but his mouth was too dry. Instead, he just made an awkward moaning noise.

Toonda entered the room and gasped.

“Donban!” She ran to Darion’s side.

He pointed at his mouth, and she grabbed a pitcher of water and splashed it onto his face in her excitement. He caught some of the splash in his mouth, and moistened his tongue and throat.

“Ah.” He moaned. “That’s never tasted sweeter…”

She stood there motionless as he reached for the pitcher. She put it in his hands, and he drank the last drops from it. When he finished, she hugged him. Strong. He could feel her tears on his cheek.

“Too…tight,” he croaked out.

She hugged him even tighter.

Doban entered the room and separated them.

“Don’t kill him now,” he said, embracing her. He smiled at Darion, who was still piecing everything together.

“How?” Darion said. “I…I…died. The…sands.”

“We heard a scream,” she said, “and well…we came back to help and found you on the ground with a faint pulse. I can’t believe you recovered after that…It’s beyond reason.”

“One tough bastard,” Doban remarked.

Darion tried to sit up, but pain shot through his body. He relented and lay down instead.

“Not tough enough to sit even…” Darion said. “How long…has it been?”

Toonda and her husband looked at each other.

“It’s been two weeks,” she said, bowing her head. “You…missed the election.”

“Fuck…Doban, you didn’t…get voted leader?”

“Afraid not. Decan is…very persuasive afterall.” Doban said.

Darion rubbed his eyes and tried to focus on anything but found it impossible.

“Don’t worry about that. Just rest for now,” Toonda said, placing a wet cloth on his head.

He grabbed her hand and looked into her eyes.

“I never say this, but thank you. Thank you for taking care of me all these years. If I were you, I would have quit a long time ago.”

“That’s because you're used to being a quitter. But…my father left me with a purpose before he died.”

“What purpose?”

“To watch over you. He told me you’re gonna do big things one day.” She wiped the sweat from his forehead. “I just didn’t know how needy you actually are, or I would have told him to stuff it!”

They laughed at that.

“I think it was five years ago that I cut that noose from your neck, and brought you back to life.” Tears slipped down her face. “That’s all over now, right?”

Darion nodded. He then coughed and buried his head into his pillow.

“Rest now. You still have a purpose here, Darion.”

With those words, he fell back to sleep.

Several days later, when Toonda came by to feed Darion, she found him dressed and standing at the bedside, folding the sheets she had given him.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” She asked.

“I’ve gotta do something,” he said. “I can’t hide here.”

“You can’t…”

He walked over to her to show his progress.

“As spry as ever!” he said. His face fell solemn. “I’ve got to get out there. Let them see me.”

Toonda hesitated, but helped him walk toward the door. Before they opened it, she stopped him.

“Make them see, Darion.”

He nodded and left. The glare of an unfamiliar sun blinded him. He let the heat kiss his skin as he closed his eyes and embraced it. Invigorated once more, he could still feel the pain in his body, but he walked with his chin high as if he felt nothing. The sand ran over his toes…

It didn’t take long to find a crowd gathered around Decan. It seemed to have grown in Darion’s absence. The crowd’s voices quieted down as Darion approached him.

“Welcome back to the living, Darion” Decan said, extending his hand to shake.

“Good morning to you, Nomad.”

The crowd refused to meet his eyes. He took this as a good sign.

“Have you come to congratulate me?” Decan said. “It is quite an honor for your first voyage out of that shack to be to me.”

“Yes, the honor is all mine. In fact, I feel honor is indeed the word of the day. So now I ask. Will you honor all the old ways?”“Of course! That is why I ran for election in the first place.”

“Good. Then you’ll have no problem honoring a proposition of mine.”

“Anything you need Darion, consider it done.”

“I’d like to challenge your leadership by means of combat.”

The crowd whispered among themselves.

Decan closed his eyes for a moment before eyeing Darion’s injured body.

“Surely you jest, cripple? Say it true, and I’ll spare you the embarrassment.”

Darion revealed his sword by his side.

“I’ll take my chances.”

He looked around the crowd, and then smiled wide.

“Let the gods decide then!”

As the two men shook hands, trumpets and drums sounded out in the valley. They stared each other down as the crowd became frantic. They could hear someone screaming from far away.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

“The king’s banners!” One of the guards shouted from far away.

Panic grew among the crowd. Their smiles dropped as the two men headed toward the town’s entrance to greet the uninvited. Fancy caravans with royal guards protecting them stood there instead of an army. The horns and drums performed a spectacle of a finale as the caravans halted. One of the doors opened, and a plump man jumped out of it and waddled toward the entrance, which had now been fashioned with a simple gate and a tower.

“What’s your business?” a guard called out to the plump man.

“King’s orders.” The man reached behind him, and another man ran up and placed a scroll into his hand. He unrolled it. “It has come to the lord’s attention that robbery and murder are commonplace in these lands. By order of the king, peace is to be brought to the sands. Meet with an anointed leader and establish the king’s justice in the sands by any means necessary—with great efforts to be focused on civility and diplomacy. So says the king. Now they speak.”

Darion and Decan stared at each other, confused. “What?” They both said.

“Ugh. Invite me in, and we’ll have words. As a peace offering, we’ve brought some supplies for your people.” He snapped his fingers, and several barrels were unloaded off the caravans and carried toward the town. “We brought water, pickled fish, smoked meats and a smattering of wine.”

One of the guards handed the plump man a small cask. With it in hand, the plump man motioned for his request to be granted. The camp’s guard looked toward Decan for orders.

“Open the gates!” Decan shouted.

The guards went into action and stepped aside. Barrel after barrel was stacked inside the town. Everyone in town came to see the spectacle, and cried tears of relief and joy as they were handed cups of water and food.

The plump man approached Decan and bowed.

“Greetings. My name is Astarian. Whom do I have the pleasure of speaking with?”

“Decan.” He reached out to shake his hand.

Astarian eyed his dirty hands before shaking it.

“What’s all this about now?”

“I thought the decree was clear enough…Well, the king has taken an interest in your barbaric ways of life. He finds it unpleasant. And of course, he is a great man and has devised a strategy that doesn't involve bloodshed.”

“What strategy is that?”

Astarian looked around at the onlookers and leaned toward Decan.

“Perhaps, we should discuss business alone and in the shade? If you find it wise.”

As the two men retreated toward Decan’s new home, he waved Darion off before Darion could join.

Inside his home, Astarian wiped the sweat off his face, took off his jacket, undid some of his shirt buttons, and downed a glass of wine. “It’s a little warm here.” He poured himself another cup.

“I’m going to need details, Astarian.” Decan said.

He smacked his lips as he held up a finger, taking another long sip.

“Of course, it is only prudent to require such a thing. Basically, peace needs to be made out here. Now we understand the nomadic nature of your kind, very interesting indeed. However, when we were informed one of your kind was building a town well, it deserved a closer look. While your efforts are endearing they are…” He put his hands up and looked around the poorly built home. “I’ll just say it…It’s pathetic. You clearly lack knowledge or taste to build such things. It is forgivable.”

Decan laughed.

“Aye, I’d agree to that. Hence why we are preparing to continue our nomadic ways and leave this place once and for all.”

“Decan, Decan, Decan…While returning to the old ways is a commendable thing, I’m afraid you lack knowledge of your surroundings. Even now, several groups are poised to strike you down, and while you were in need of the supplies we brought, they do make you a rather large target. Also, might I say, good luck convincing a parent not to feed their children with it.”

“You're a colorful snake, Astarian…”

Astarian smiled and shrugged, sipping more wine.

“It’s what I do best, sir.” He raised his cup to Decan and they finished their drinks. He poured another. “I know you think it in bad taste, and of course it is. It’s also the best chance you’ll have at cementing your legacy as the greatest leader of the sands in all of history.”

Decan’s eyebrows shot up.

“After the first election to ever take place, the newly appointed leader, Decan, established a treaty with the king himself and led his people to prosperity beyond what they ever deemed possible.”

They took a sip.

“Why, mothers will name their sons after you, fathers will tell the tale over dinner across the world. I’d say. I’m rather jealous of your position. What luck.”

“Go on.”

Darion stood outside at the gates, and watched as the last of the barrels were brought in.

“Two weeks too late…” Toonda said, coming up behind him.

“Yes…” he said. “It’s interesting how that worked out.”

“What do you think Decan will do?”

“He might be stubborn, but he’s also a pompous fool. They’ll tease his ego, and he’ll agree to their terms.”

“So…we won anyway? That’s a good thing right?”

“I hope so, but something doesn’t feel right about all this.” As he said the words a royal guard approached him.

“Darion?” the guard said.

He nodded.

“We’ll have words with you.” He stood to the side, pointed his spear out of the town and raised his chin. “This way if you please.”

Darion tapped her shoulder, and walked toward the caravans. A door opened to one of them and a man waved at him, beckoning him.

As he drew closer, the man hopped out and bowed.

“In here, sir.”

Darion couldn’t see inside the dark caravan but thought it safe since they didn’t seem interested in disarming him. As he entered, the door slammed shut behind him.

Darkness surrounded him, too dark to make anything out. Then a match lit, revealing a man’s face as he lit a pipe. He used the remnants of the match to light a candle.

“Greetings, friend,” the man said, smiling in the dim light. “A little over dramatic maybe?” He opened a window, letting plenty of light inside. “That’s better, I think.”

“Who are you?” Darion asked, confused. “What do you want with me?”

“Oh, we’ll get there. You’re looking strong and confident, Darion!” He slammed his fist onto his chest. “I’d say you are indeed ready.”

“Ready for what, exactly?”

The man smirked and took a long puff of his pipe.

“Tell it again Darion. Tell me the story they don’t believe.”

“Look…I don’t know what this is, but I think I’m just going to leave, if it suits you.”

“You’re king orders to stay.” He puffed his pipe once more, raising his eyebrows. “Decan is signing the treaty now, and I am your king as of…four seconds ago.”

Darion closed his eyes and sighed.

“I know, right? What was he thinking? You would have never agreed to that.”

“Well, you’re not stupid at least.”

He laughed at that, then he motioned to some proper steaks next to him, but Darion shook his head. “Smart lad. Now, tell me that story if you please. The one about your father…”

Darion gritted his teeth, but felt compelled to answer.

“If it pleases. My father was killed by a hybrid, one with glowing wings. It latched onto him and turned his body to ash. The others, they don’t remember what I do. They think he died in his sleep. It’s driven me near madness.” Darion snarled, then collected himself. “If you brought me here to mock me, I can assure you my skin is thick from taunts.” He grabbed a glass off the table and poured the fanciest bottle into it. It burned down his throat.

“Marvelous. Indeed quite a marvelous story.”

“It’s not—”

“It’s not the creativity of a child, I can tell you that. It’s a matter of fact and truth. Not many are aware, but that is indeed the truth of things, Darion.”

“Surely you aim to humiliate me.”

“Any other man…but not me. No, my aim is not my own, Darion. What I aim is you, and what I aim you at is what you desire most.”

“I’d request you to speak plainly, sir.”

The king took another long puff from his pipe, closing his eyes and savoring the tobacco flavor.

“The man who killed your father still walks these lands. I can give you a name, descriptions, and a location…All I ask is that you bring me the woman who is with him.”

Darion trembled as he stared through the king. All this time his father’s killer was out there. Finally, he could put an end to his nightmares.

“I can feel your rage washing over me. Quite impressive.” He poured himself a drink and raised his glass toward Darion. “Is that something you desire?”

Darion commanded his body still and tapped glasses with the king.

“Consider it done.”

They drank together.

“I’ll have that information.”

“Certainly. The man’s name you seek is Cadivus.”

“Cadivus…” The word oozed past Darion’s lips. He finished his drink and threw the glass at the wall. “I’ll learn everything you know about this man.”

The King told him everything about Cadivus and his last remaining traveling companion, Thermia. He gave him descriptions and told his location.

“You wouldn’t lie to me would you?” The thought had crept into his mind as he handed him everything he wanted a silver platter.

“It’s beneath a king to lie, Darion. I assume we have an agreement then?” He held out his hand to shake.

Darion grabbed his hand, and held his head down during the shake. When he looked up, tears were in his eyes. He tried to turn his head away, but the king reached out and pulled his chin toward him, staring into his wet eyes.

“Never turn from passion, Darion,” the king said. “It gives you strength.”

Darion nodded and wiped tears from his eyes before exiting the caravan. Before he closed the door, he turned to face the king.

“Thank you, my king.” He bowed before turning around to head toward his camp.

The king smiled as he watched him walk away.

“Oh, I always loved this part…”