Ashar'an Rising (Nexus Wars Saga) by Robert Day Page B

opening. Waves of heat assailed him as he closed his eyes against the brightness, and he was shoved to the side, stumbling on shaky legs and almost falling, but forcing himself to remain standing.
    Clouds did not hinder the sun’s early morning passage as it clawed its way above the horizon. The land here was flat to the west, but dropped away to the east, where a wide pond stretched some hundred paces. Beyond that lay vast rolling plains, an ocean of parched grass dotted sporadically by bent trees. The south was much the same, but to the north the land rose and became lusher, scattered with trees and bushes. Several small strips of crops lay together in one section, while large corrals enclosed cattle, sheep and horses.
    Positioned along one side of the pond was a small community of makeshift dwellings, mostly tents and pavilions, but some other small huts with interlaced log walls and thatched roofs. Despite the burgeoning morning heat, he could see people moving along the dusty walkways between dwellings, some with children or carrying items, while a few women carried baskets of clothing from the pond where they had probably washed them.
    A large crowd of people surrounded the worn area above the oubliette, twenty paces around the wooden hatchway which was closed again as the Darishi jailer was hoisted out, somewhat gentler than Valdieron had been handled.
    In the Northern section of the clearing, a wooden dais was erected. Atop it sat a solitary bone throne lined with a black lion pelt, the beast’s head and mane acting as a baldachin. Four Darishi warriors flanked the dais, dressed in ceremonial cloaks and holding tasseled pole-arms.
    Two other warriors moved from behind and grabbed him under the armpits, half guiding, half dragging him towards the dais. As they moved the crowd parted with an expectant buzzing, and four people emerged to climb the dais.
    One was the unmistakable figure of Khalan, dressed in white, though he still wore the black cloak. His face was downcast, appearing mournful, but he did raise a contemptuous look at Valdieron, followed by a mocking smile.
    There was another man, appearing much as Dhalan had, tall and handsome, though more thickly muscled and maybe slightly taller. His dark hair was flecked with white streaks, belying his age. He walked with confidence and surety, though slightly banded, not surprising for a man who had most likely spent most of his life on horseback. He also wore predominantly white, as did the others, which Val assumed to be a symbol of mourning here.
    The other two were women, and where Dhalan and the King were similar so were these two, most likely mother and daughter. Both were tall, though the mother was slightly larger of frame, and her hair was flecked with grey. Her face was wide and proud, with large mouth and nose, which she had obviously passed down to her daughter. Both wore diaphanous lace gowns that appeared almost scandalous, but no doubt such garb was not uncommon given their practicality in the scorching conditions.
    The Equinary sat, while his wife and children stood behind him. It was obvious to Valdieron that the women of the Darishi were not held in as much esteem as the males. He had seen no female warriors, and there seemed to be few young females.
    A hushed quiet fell, then a surprised whispering sprung up as Valdieron dropped to one knee in obeisance such that he had seen at the court in Thorhus. While he knew nothing of the Darishi nobility, he felt he should show some subservience and respect, for so far it seemed he was not viewed very highly.
    “ Rise, Valdieron of Tyr and hear judgment.”
    Valdieron rose and surveyed the Equinary, whose voice and demeanor showed signs of tiredness. It appeared Khalan had made his move to kill Dhalan while his father was still in command of the clan, though it was obvious the Equinary would soon have to step down or be forced to step aside. Not that he was old, scarcely fifty years, but the years were not