forward, you will be escorted everywhere you go. You are forbidden to go off alone, and you may not ride out on horseback without my permission. And you may not call me Rokkman. I am ‘Your Holiness’ to you.”
“You’re going through a lot of trouble just to have me join your army. Something is not right here. You’re not telling me everything, Rokkman. And I go where I please. I obey no one.”
Clarian spun on his feet and charged out of the office, leaving Rokkman in shock.
CHAPTER SIX
G leaming eyes peered through the dark night. A partial moon drifted over a small Karran village. Mounted Maggan troops swept forward, enveloping the village. Dogs barked furiously, and lights appeared in windows.
The killing began. Men fell in the doorways of their homes, cut down by swarming soldiers. The cries of the dying and the terrified screams of women and children rang out.
Ferman, a massive man with a cruel mouth sat astride his horse in front of a cottage. He ordered his lieutenants, “Don’t kill the children. Load them into the wagons. We’ll take them with us.”
As he supervised the slaughter, he called to an aide, “Bring me one mother alive! Kill the rest!”
Two soldiers dragged a young mother before Ferman. She was thrown to the ground, shuddering in fear, blood on her torn gown. She looked up at Ferman as he pointed to her.
“We’ll take your children with us. If your people follow us, we’ll eat them. Tell your Flamekeeper.”
The woman shrieked in horror. Ferman reined in his horse harshly. “Burn the village,” he ordered.
Three wagons were loaded with crying children. Several older children resisted and were cut to pieces.
An officer rode up to Ferman. “What do we do with the children?” he asked.
“Take them into the forest. You know what to do.”
Clarian pushed his horse into a steady trot toward the Great Grasslands. He was in an angry mood. He was finished with the Citadel, with Rokkman and the Flamekeeper, and with the pending war. It was not his war, he fumed to himself, and it wasn’t his religion. Yes, it was his father’s religion and Aunt Helan’s, but he trusted more the shadow ancestors of the Kobani world as his mother had taught him. He couldn’t figure out what the Karran wanted with him. He was only one man. They treated him differently, yet they gave him no direction and no responsibility. For some reason, they weren’t forthcoming about what they wanted, and he was no longer waiting for them to tell him. He was going home where he belonged. The Maggan were not his enemy. And then there was the beautiful woman in the forest. She was hard to forget.
He heard them coming. Two Citadel soldiers raced toward him from back along the road. He stopped and waited. He knew they were coming for him. They pulled up, their horses blowing. One of the soldiers asked breathlessly, “Where are you going, Clarian?”
“Home.”
“There is something you need to see before you go home. We must hurry. Come with us.”
Clarian followed the men and then, dismounting from his horse at the pillaged Karran village, the embers from the burned cottages still smoldering, Clarian found Rokkman, Martan, and Lillan waiting. Soldiers searched for survivors. The dead were carried out to lie in a grim row on the ground.
“You provoked this, you young fool!” snapped Rokkman.
Clarian turned his head away, his face showing that he knew he had triggered the enemy attack.
“They took the children,” said Martan.
“We have to try to save them!” barked Rokkman.
“Maybe they haven’t reached the forest yet,” said Martan.
The lone survivor, the young mother, sat on a large stone in front of a burned-out cottage. She was frantic with grief.
“They took my baby. They took all the children. He said if you followed, he would eat them.” The mother sobbed as Lillan put her arm around her.
“Who was he?” asked Clarian. “The one who took the children.”
“Can you get my baby
“You’re going through a lot of trouble just to have me join your army. Something is not right here. You’re not telling me everything, Rokkman. And I go where I please. I obey no one.”
Clarian spun on his feet and charged out of the office, leaving Rokkman in shock.
CHAPTER SIX
G leaming eyes peered through the dark night. A partial moon drifted over a small Karran village. Mounted Maggan troops swept forward, enveloping the village. Dogs barked furiously, and lights appeared in windows.
The killing began. Men fell in the doorways of their homes, cut down by swarming soldiers. The cries of the dying and the terrified screams of women and children rang out.
Ferman, a massive man with a cruel mouth sat astride his horse in front of a cottage. He ordered his lieutenants, “Don’t kill the children. Load them into the wagons. We’ll take them with us.”
As he supervised the slaughter, he called to an aide, “Bring me one mother alive! Kill the rest!”
Two soldiers dragged a young mother before Ferman. She was thrown to the ground, shuddering in fear, blood on her torn gown. She looked up at Ferman as he pointed to her.
“We’ll take your children with us. If your people follow us, we’ll eat them. Tell your Flamekeeper.”
The woman shrieked in horror. Ferman reined in his horse harshly. “Burn the village,” he ordered.
Three wagons were loaded with crying children. Several older children resisted and were cut to pieces.
An officer rode up to Ferman. “What do we do with the children?” he asked.
“Take them into the forest. You know what to do.”
Clarian pushed his horse into a steady trot toward the Great Grasslands. He was in an angry mood. He was finished with the Citadel, with Rokkman and the Flamekeeper, and with the pending war. It was not his war, he fumed to himself, and it wasn’t his religion. Yes, it was his father’s religion and Aunt Helan’s, but he trusted more the shadow ancestors of the Kobani world as his mother had taught him. He couldn’t figure out what the Karran wanted with him. He was only one man. They treated him differently, yet they gave him no direction and no responsibility. For some reason, they weren’t forthcoming about what they wanted, and he was no longer waiting for them to tell him. He was going home where he belonged. The Maggan were not his enemy. And then there was the beautiful woman in the forest. She was hard to forget.
He heard them coming. Two Citadel soldiers raced toward him from back along the road. He stopped and waited. He knew they were coming for him. They pulled up, their horses blowing. One of the soldiers asked breathlessly, “Where are you going, Clarian?”
“Home.”
“There is something you need to see before you go home. We must hurry. Come with us.”
Clarian followed the men and then, dismounting from his horse at the pillaged Karran village, the embers from the burned cottages still smoldering, Clarian found Rokkman, Martan, and Lillan waiting. Soldiers searched for survivors. The dead were carried out to lie in a grim row on the ground.
“You provoked this, you young fool!” snapped Rokkman.
Clarian turned his head away, his face showing that he knew he had triggered the enemy attack.
“They took the children,” said Martan.
“We have to try to save them!” barked Rokkman.
“Maybe they haven’t reached the forest yet,” said Martan.
The lone survivor, the young mother, sat on a large stone in front of a burned-out cottage. She was frantic with grief.
“They took my baby. They took all the children. He said if you followed, he would eat them.” The mother sobbed as Lillan put her arm around her.
“Who was he?” asked Clarian. “The one who took the children.”
“Can you get my baby
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