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Also by A J walker
Acknowledgments
About the Author
“All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.”
J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring
Zahara’s Gift
Book One
Chapter 1
A Stranger and The Thief
Anders gripped the oars tightly, his muscles strained against the force generated by the storm. Freezing rain stung the side of his face as he rowed furiously through the rise and fall of angry ocean waves. The storm had come without warning, catching Anders and his younger cousin by surprise.
“Thomas!” Anders yelled against the gale force wind. Thomas clung tightly to the ribbing on the floor of the small fishing boat, fearing for his life. “The boat is taking on too much water! Grab the bucket and bail!” Anders saw his cousin lift his head briefly and search for the bailing bucket. “Now, Thomas, do it now or we’ll sink!”
Thomas gathered his courage and let go of the floor he had clung to so desperately. He grabbed the bucket and vigorously shoveled water over the side of the swaying boat.
Squinting through the downpour, Anders could just see the rocky shoreline of Highborn Bay. The two were nearly back inside the safety of the bay’s calmer waters. He was well aware that they had reached almost the exact spot where Anders had been eighteen years ago, when his family’s ship had wrecked in a spring storm. The details of the tragedy were lost to Anders’ memory because he’d only been one-year-old at the time, but he’d heard his uncle tell the story countless times since then.
He and his parents had sailed for nearly a week from Southland to Grandwood, a city nestled along the northern coast of Westland, where Anders’ uncle Theodor and his newly pregnant wife were waiting to greet them. Anders’ family was on track to dock in Grandwood’s port when a storm suddenly forced the ship off course, missing the port and wrecking into the rocky spit of land that formed half of Highborn Bay. Theodor found infant Anders washed ashore among the ship’s wreckage. The only survivor, he was left without parents, yet fortunately with his uncle and aunt to raise him.
The wind was unrelenting as they struggled to reach the bay. Thomas continued to shovel the salty water out of the small boat as wave after wave piled over the bow. Anders heaved the final strokes on the oars, skimming into calmer waters. It wasn’t long before they were pulling the boat on shore. Thomas’ younger sister, Kirsten, had watched as the two rowed themselves into the bay. She ran down the hill from the stone farmhouse through the rain, eager to help them despite becoming drenched in the downpour.
“Here,” Anders said, handing her one of several baskets overflowing with salmon. “Take this up to the house.”
Kirsten’s blue eyes widened upon seeing the size of their days’ catch. Taking the basket she staggered for a moment, allowing herself to adjust her feet under the surprising weight of the basket.
As she hauled the catch back up the hill, Anders called after her, “Kirsten, have Theodor come help us with the rest.” Anders and Thomas filled their arms with waterlogged fishing gear and the remaining baskets of fish, struggling to carry them up the hill to the house.
When they reached the front porch, Anders dropped his load on the ground and heard Kirsten say from the open doorway, “Anders, I couldn’t find him. I think he went out to do chores.”
Looking at Thomas with a furrowed brow, Anders said, “In this weather? He’ll probably need help. Thomas, finish bringing up the gear. I’ll go help with the chores.” Thomas nodded and headed back down to the boat.
“Don’t be too long,” Kirsten told them, stepping onto the wooden covered porch and drying her sandy-blonde hair with a towel. “Dinner is nearly ready.”
Anders stepped out from under the protection of the porch and headed in the opposite direction away from the bay and toward the farm. He looked in the barn, the corral, and around the rest of the small homestead. Theodor was nowhere to be seen. Anders noticed most of the chores had already been completed. He decided to look behind the house, along the edge of the woods. Sometimes when the animals got out, they often wandered away from the farm into the trees. Though hard to tell in the rain, Anders thought he saw a set of footprints leading into the woods. He followed them. In places where the ground had not yet washed them away, Anders could make out just enough to see the outline of his uncle’s boot tracks leading him farther away from the farm.
Anders thought about getting the others to help him search, but decided he would go a little farther before alarming them. His mind racing with possibilities as to why Theodor would be wandering into the woods, he continued following the tracks. Before long, the lone footprints angled sharply to the right. Anders saw they went up and over a small ridge.
If I can’t see him from the top of this ridgeline, I’ll go back for Kirsten and Thomas, he thought to himself.
Night was approaching fast and from the top Anders had a hard time seeing clearly down the backside of the ridge. He squinted into the darkness, hoping to glimpse any sign of his uncle. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw something move. He watched as a figure walked out into a small clearing on the backside of the ridge below him. It was Theodor, Anders was sure because of his uncle’s recognizable silver hair. He cupped his hands around his mouth to shout down to him, but held his breath when he saw someone join Theodor in the clearing. Anders couldn’t make out who it was, this tall figure sporting dark clothes.
I have to get a closer look, he thought.
He looked around for a way to get closer without being seen. He knew his uncle would be furious with him if he learned Anders was spying on him, but something in his gut told him he needed to investigate what Theodor was doing out here.
To his left a cluster of short trees extended about half way down toward the clearing where Theodor and the strange figure stood talking. The dim evening light, combined with the trees’ foliage, would be enough to provide cover.
He quickly ran to the thicket of trees. Water that had pooled on the leaves drenched him as he parted the branches. The sound of the rain falling covered the noise of his footsteps as he grew closer. Anders stayed low, crouching to keep from being seen.
He paused for a moment to see if he could hear what they were saying. Their voices were still too muffled to hear clearly, so he carefully crept forward to the edge of the small trees. Here, he was able to make out snippets of their conversation. Through a space between the branches, he could see they were arguing.
Dressed entirely in black, the tall man with Theodor wore a broad sword strapped to his belt. The stranger’s face was weathered, creased and tanned from his travels. He displayed an air of ruggedness that Anders had only seen a handful of times on the faces of soldiers and mercenaries passing through Grandwood. Anders strained to hear what they might be arguing about.
“He’s not ready,” Theodor said sternly.
“You have to tell him,” the stranger urged. “The time has come and he needs to know the truth.”
“Are you sure there isn’t more time?” Theodor asked the man in black. “How can you be sure he’s the one they’re searching for?”
“He may be your kin, but that doesn’t change anything. He will have to face it, whether he’s ready or not,” the stranger replied in a commanding tone. “You have known as well as I that this day would come. Powerful forces are stirring in the east. The elves talk of orcs and kurr assembling by the masses. An evil that was once a great threat to the five nations of Kartania is clawing its way back into the world.”
“So the rumors are true,” Theodor noted soberly. “I thought those days of peril left when he did.”
“You must have known he wouldn’t stay in the shadows forever. He is coming back out from whatever rock he’s been hiding under,” the stranger said coldly.
