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Endurek: Land of Talsar - Book 3 (Volume 3)

By Heidi Likins

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Chapter 1
Freedom

A ball of anger rumbled in Dash’s chest. From the ladder, he peeked up into the sleeping loft. Late afternoon rays filtered in through the small windows set into the stone walls of his family’s farmhouse.
Running his fingers through his dark, spiky hair, he watched his brother, Dalan, shove a kerchief into his pack before kneeling to peer under the bed.
Dash climbed down the ladder and stomped into the kitchen where Ma kneaded bread dough.
“Why can’t I go?” he demanded.
“That’s the tenth time you’ve asked today, Dash. What’s Papa to do if you leave? With Ariyuna already in the capital with the queen, and Tabin arriving any minute to take Dalan there, Papa will need help. We’ve got the sheep to care for, and the harvest just a step away.” She smacked dough into little balls and dropped them on the baking sheet as the oven pumped heat into the already sweltering kitchen.
Dash glared at the dough balls. Resentment flared. Why couldn’t he go? Why did he have to stay behind and do all the hard work? They had left him out of the last adventure as well, but he’d followed anyway.
He flung the kitchen door open and trudged out to the barn.
“It’s just not fair!” He kicked at a pile of hay. “I’m old enough. I’ve already gone all over Talsar and even fought tarch.”
Dugur, the large old ram, poked his head around a post into the last shafts of daylight making horizontal lines in the dusty air.
“What are you looking at?” Dash kicked hay at the stubborn ram. “You don’t care if you stay here or not, but I...” He stopped and glanced into the stall behind Dugur.
Doechin, the pony, swished his tail.
The tendrils of an idea crept into his mind. Did he really have to stay? What if he didn’t? Following would only result in being brought back.
But what if he went a different direction?
A black bird fluttered out of the stall and perched on a window ledge. Its sleek feathers glowed in the sunset. Cocking its head sideways, it fixed Dash in a stare.
“Go away.” Dash grabbed a dented cup from the ledge and flung it at the bird. With a squawk, it flew off.
Dash leaned over to rub the pony’s nose and whispered, “How would you like to go on a trip with me?” He glanced around the barn, but didn’t see anyone.
Hope nudged at Dash’s anger for the first time in weeks. The pony tossed his head as Dash turned to leave. Back in the kitchen, he peeked in the oven. “What are the rolls for, Ma?”
“Just to eat, and for the trip tomorrow. Keep a watch on them, won’t you, so they don’t burn?”
“Sure.” Dash pulled up a chair and mulled over the blossoming idea. He surveyed the land in his mind. The road wouldn’t do once he’d left the farm. He’d have to take trails through the woods.
If he skirted Belgutai and cut across the plain toward the east, he could possibly make it to Bura in a few days. Tabin and Dalan would be heading west over the mountains.
The unfolding freedom sent a faint shiver of anticipation down his arms. Soon he would be away from the farm, from all the work, and from all the nagging. He closed his eyes to soak in the fullness of this thought.
Smoke seeping out of the oven pulled him back to reality. He jumped up and snatched the burning rolls out of the oven.
Dalan stepped into the kitchen and laughed. “Learning to cook like Ma?”
Dash glared at him. “They’re for your trip. I wouldn’t want you to miss home too much.”
“Thanks. I didn’t know you cared.” Dalan leaned over to look at the rolls. “Not too bad. Only the ones at the back are black. But the rest-”
“You watch them next time.” Dash stomped toward the door. “Oh, I forgot. You won’t be here. You’ll be enjoying the leisure of Temyulun while I slave away to bring in the harvest.” He slipped out of the kitchen, whispering, “Or not.”
Up the ladder in the sleeping loft, he pulled his pack off the shelf and stuffed in a pair of trousers. He grabbed a clean tunic from the shelf and added that as well.
His brother’s mountain knife lay on the bed next to an already full pack. Creeping to the ladder, he glanced down. The room below was empty. He snuck back toward Dalan’s bed.
Dash stared at the knife for a moment. When he turned sixteen he’d get one just like it. But two years was a long time. He needed one now. With a quick reach, he seized Dalan’s knife and stuffed it in his own pack under the trousers.
“Come for dinner,” Ma called from below.
Dash hid his pack under the bed and headed down the ladder. Dalan set out plates and cups around the rough wooden table, while Ma brought in burnt rolls, sausages, and fruit.
“Is that all?” Dash asked.
Ma sighed. “Your brother is leaving in the morning. We’ve all been busy helping him get ready. There hasn’t been much time for food. Dalan, don’t forget to set a place for your uncle Tabin. He’ll be here any moment.”
The door swung open, and Papa marched in with a big smile on his bearded face. “Evening, everyone.”
A tall man with unruly curls and a long brown cloak followed him into the room.
“Tabin!” Ma reached out her arms in greeting, dropping a bandaa apple on the floor. “I’m so glad you made it. Oh!” She peered at the small furry creature beside him, no taller than Tabin’s elbow. “And who is this?”
“I smell yummy food.” The orange oostai beside Tabin sniffed and grinned, showing a row of pointy teeth. Stretching up onto his tiptoes, he eyed the table.
“This is Taag,” Tabin replied.
The little oostai bowed and then bent further to pick up the dropped apple. His eyes twinkled as half the apple disappeared into his mouth with a crunch.
“Oh, it’s Taag. I have heard stories about you. Welcome to our home. I’m glad to finally meet you.”
Tabin patted him on the head. “He’ll be traveling with us to the capital. Not much can entice him away from Temyulun’s banquets.”
Papa laughed. “Taag here enjoys a good meal.”
“Well, it won’t be anything fancy, I’m afraid.” Ma glanced at the sparse table.
Taag smacked a few times and swallowed hard. “Oh, it is just fine, Madam Cook. I love to eat anything.” He glanced at the table again. “And sausages are very good.”
Chairs scraped the floor as they all sat. Papa asked a blessing, and Taag dived in. Ma scurried back and forth from the kitchen to the table, bringing out bits of leftover this and that while the oostai devoured all within reach.
“So.” Tabin looked over to Dalan. “Do you have the Enk Taivaan packed?”
Dalan put his hand on his chest. “Right here. Where I usually wear it. You said Queen Baiyanarah wanted to see it. But I have no idea if it will work again, or what it will do next time. It still hums faintly, but it’s a different tune than when I put it together at the Battle of Temyulun.” He glanced up with a slight frown on his brow. “Is Zovlon planning something new?”
Tabin shrugged. “Not that I know of. There have been rumors that he’s in Endurek, the capital of Teagen, but our relationship with the High Prince of Teagen isn’t the best right now. The prince is very old. He could die any day, and we probably wouldn’t even know. I’m not sure what the queen has in mind. She just wanted us to come.”
Taag slumped back in his chair and patted his bulging stomach. “That, Madam Cook, was a good meal. A very good meal.”
Ma smiled. “Thank you.” She rose and laid a hand on Dalan’s shoulder. “You have an early morning tomorrow. Better go finish packing. Dash can help me with the dishes.”
Dash groaned. There it was again. He had to do all the hard work, and Dalan got the adventures. He shuffled off to the kitchen and started washing up, while Ma made honey cakes for breakfast the next morning.
Just as the first whiffs of smoke caught Dash’s nose, she snatched the cakes out of the oven. “Ma, do you have to burn everything?”
Dalan stood in the doorway, grinning. “Nice save, Ma. By the way, Dash, have you seen my mountain knife? I thought I left it on the bed, but it’s not there now.”
Dash ignored him.
“It will show up.” Ma looked over the honey cakes. “I have some village cheese left. Do you want to take that tomorrow?”
“Sure. I wonder if I took my knife out to the barn.” He grabbed a honey cake.
Ma slapped his hand. “Those are for tomorrow.”
“They taste great!” Dalan mumbled, spitting crumbs on the floor as he scurried for the door.
Shaking her head, Ma sighed. “Off to bed now, Dash. It’s an early morning for all of us.”
“But, Ma-”
“No arguing. Off you go.”
Dash surveyed the remaining food in the kitchen. All the rolls had been eaten. A small bowl of grayish boiled potatoes sat in the cool windowsill, and only two shriveled bandaa apples remained in the fruit bowl. The honey cakes lay in a basket covered by a cloth.
“No dawdling tonight.” Ma swept the kitchen dirt toward the door. “I’ll see you in the morning, son.”
Dash climbed the ladder and pulled his pack out from under the bed and glanced into it. After tucking the few coppers he’d saved into a side pocket, he looked around. “What else should I take? What’s Dalan taking?” He peeked in the bulging pack on his brother’s bed, but saw only clothes. “Got those.” With a shrug, he shoved his own pack back under the bed.
When Dalan came in a little while later, Dash pretended to sleep. The box under Dalan’s bed slid out and then back in. He could hear the covers of the bed rustle around, then knees crawling about on the floor. A thud was followed by a muffled groan, and Dash suppressed a smirk. Finally, he heard the creak of the bed as his brother climbed in.
The moon rose higher into the sky, and Dalan’s heavy breathing joined Papa’s snores. From down in the visiting room, Dash could hear Tabin’s snores as well.
He crept out of bed. Pulling out his pack, he climbed down the ladder with boots under his arm.
In the kitchen, he stuffed honey cakes, the hard remnant of village cheese, and the two shriveled apples into his pack.
Ma’s small market coin pouch sat on the window ledge. He grabbed that as well. The sorry-looking potatoes beside it received a glance but remained in their bowl.
An almost full moon hung halfway up the sky as Dash led Doechin down the small mountain trail toward Dorben. In the darkened woods, a black bird cawed and rose into the night sky.

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