Episode 13: For Survival and Freedom (2)
Prince Mercar, Eugenia, and fifty imperial guards arrived at Palemon on horseback, staring uneasily at the entrance of Altanic's training compound.
Astride a white stallion, Mercar wore light yet majestic armor. Eugenia and the guards were encased in heavy black plate armor adorned with golden dragons symbolizing the imperial house.
Before them knelt nearly twenty soldiers pressed flat against the ground - Batia and his Tripolas squad. The warriors cowered under the oppressive aura emanating from the imperial guards. Even battle-hardened troops became mere pups before a tiger when facing the emperor's personal retinue.
"Altanic is dead?" Eugenia demanded imperiously, glaring down at the injured Batia. The soldier struggled to speak through his wounded jaw: "Yes, General. The boy called Karon slew him and fled to the desert. We're still searching, but given the expanse and nocturnal dangers..."
"The other gladiators?"
"Half dead... The rest escaped during our pursuit..."
Batia's voice faltered, his failure evident. Returning guards confirmed his report - the compound overflowed with corpses of Altanic's private troops and gladiators.
"Prepare to return to the capital immediately. Your judgment awaits there."
"Forgive us, General! Give the order and we'll bring that Karon brat's head-"
"Silence! Who permitted you to speak?" Eugenia's whip-crack voice sent the Tripolas squad scrambling backward like startled crabs.
As they retreated, Eugenia approached Mercar who stood observing from behind. "Your Highness..."
"We arrived too late. Could we still find him in the desert?"
"If he reached Taber Desert... It would be virtually impossible."
Mercar sighed deeply, surveying the bloodied training grounds. Taber's endless sands offered no mercy - a hellscape of scorching days, frozen nights, and howling winds where only nomadic tribes survived through oasis-hopping.
"Any search party would likely find corpses. If he lives... Fate may cross our paths again." Eugenia's forced optimism did little to lift the prince's spirits.
"Very well. We lodge in Palemon tonight and return to court tomorrow." As Eugenia barked orders, Mercar turned his steed eastward, staring at the desert horizon before snapping his reins.
One Year Later
The eternal sands stretched before a gray-cloaked figure, his brown curls escaping a headwrap as he roamed the dunes. Karon paused periodically to harvest inky-black vines - Tabernakul herbs - scattering seeds with each pluck. When his satchel bulged, he checked the descending sun revealing his face: youth hardening into adulthood, marked by a stubborn cheek scar that refused to fade like others. Though wrapped cloth hid his frame, hardened muscles and broad shoulders betrayed his sixteen summers.
"Time slips..." Karon quickened his pace. Desert nights brought lethal cold and awakened buried predators.
He froze mid-step. Something shifted beneath distant sands. Slowly drawing his ever-present palm-sized dagger, Karon waited until the movement stilled - then threw.
Thunk!
The blade buried to its hilt. Digging through sand revealed a giant desert mole-rat impaled through the neck. Skinned and roasted, it would make decent meat. After securing his catch, Karon chewed a dried Tabernakul leaf, its bitter fumes spreading through his nostrils - a routine so naturalized even veteran nomads would balk.
With explosive speed that kicked up sand devils, Karon raced across dunes until cresting a rise revealed his destination: a modest oasis dotted with Har tribe huts among camels and antelopes. The tribe had sheltered him when he'd crawled from the desert a year prior - a half-dead wraith who became their finest hunter and herbalist within months.
Attempting stealth proved futile. "Karon's back!" children shouted, swarming him. He wordlessly offered the mole-rat before slipping into his hut where the wizened elder stirred medicinal broth without looking up.
"Fetch water."
Karon lifted twin jars. As he turned to leave, the elder added: "You harvested much. Remember to reseed." A curt nod answered before Karon vanished.
The elder finally watched him go, recalling how this living ghost had surpassed tribal skills yet remained an enigma. Though never speaking of his past, something uncanny clung to him like desert miasma - a quality that recently birthed fearful whispers.
Months earlier, when hyenas attacked livestock, tribesmen had frozen before the swarm until Karon materialized between beasts and prey. Torchlight revealed eyes blazing with primal fury that sent predators whimpering into darkness. By time reinforcements came, both hyenas and savior had vanished - but not before two sentries saw enough to spark rumors of "the devil's spawn reborn."
Now carrying water jars through camp, Karon moved like a shadow among the Har's vibrant robes and tattoos. Adults averted their eyes after half-hearted greetings, while children's laughter trailed him. The elder's attempts to normalize his presence through constant tasks felt increasingly desperate.
"Stop brewing. I'm fine." Karon's abrupt statement startled the elder - his longest utterance in months.
The old man set aside his bellows. "When do you leave?"
Karon's pupils flickered. The elder always anticipated his thoughts with uncanny precision.
"Two days."
"The children will miss you. Gaber especially."
Karon bowed deeply. "I'll repay-"
"Not repayment. But tell Gaber yourself. She did find you dying, after all."
As Karon turned to leave, the elder's final arrow struck true: "Is it vengeance?"
The youth stiffened, shoulders tightening beneath his wraps. When he turned back, the elder saw genuine conflict in those haunted eyes for the first time - but no answer came. Karon vanished into the desert night, leaving only swirling sands where he'd stood.
