Chronicles of Efia: Dawn of the Desert King

Chapter Nine

Warmth from the late morning sun curled around Fulbright's skin. His eyes still shut, he inhaled the arid air deeply. Suddenly, he began to gasp. Each time he opened his mouth for oxygen, water crashed into the orifices of his nose and mouth. He felt someone kick his foot. Fulbright swiftly wiped his drenched face with one hand and opened his eyes wide to examine his surroundings, wondering if his escape last night had lead him into the Oberon by mistake.

Fulbright squinted as the day pierced his eyes with bright light. He peered through the cargo, noting that he was now surrounded by several brawny Peorians. Fulbright struggled with the cargo net until he was free, and stood up to face them, feeling a little better about his height advantage. The Peorians crossed their arms, waiting for an explanation. Fulbright could feel his confidence deflating slightly as he peered down at their sweating, bulging biceps glistening in the sun. As he opened his mouth to speak a familiar voice spoke up from behind him.

"Your Highness?" Rahnka asked as she walked toward the bow.

"Rahnka?"

"I don't believe it!" Rahnka scoffed.

"Rahnka, you know this elf?" asked one of the desert nymphs standing in front of Fulbright.

"I do," Rahnka nodded, her golden eyes glaring at Fulbright. "He's got the whole kingdom out looking for him as we speak."

Rahnka's father gasped. He and this band of desert sailors quickly placed their right fist into the open palm of their left hand and bowed to one knee in front of Fulbright. Rahnka stayed standing with her arms crossed. Her father grabbed her by the arm and yanked her down to her knees.

"Please, I do not deserve it," Fulbright blushed.

"I agree with you there," Rahnka muttered.

"Rahnka," her father rebuked her.

"Papa, he wasn't kidnapped. He's just a coward--"

"I am sorry, Your Highness. My daughter's tongue is a bit unhinged at the moment. You are the son of the king. To honor you is to honor him. I am your father's servant, Umar"

Fulbright found their posture puzzling. Peor had very little to do with the affairs of Ackerely. They were free from any direct rule of his father's kingdom, yet they considered Fulbright's father their king to honor. Fulbright grew nervous, afraid that they would honor the king by returning him home. He knelt down to pick up his rucksack, retrieving a small wooden chest with silver coins in it.

"How much to ride aboard?" Fulbright asked, holding up a few coins. "And for your silence?"

Rahnka stood and shoved his arm down. "Please, don't insult us."

Umar and the other Peorians stood to their feet.

"Put away your money, child," Rahnka's father replied. "We will take you as far as Jarra. Maybe by then you will return to your senses and buy a horse to take you back home."

"To Jarra? But I am trying to get to Parsha," Fulbright protested.

Rahnka placed a hand over his mouth and hushed him. "You're being a little ungrateful, Your Highness."

"Please, call me Fulbright," Fulbright sighed.

"Why are you running away?"

"Who said I was running away?" Fulbright snapped. "Maybe I just wanted to do something on my own."

Rahnka cocked her head slightly to one side as she looked at Fulbright incredulously. "You expect me to believe you were willing to cross the Ahearn desert by yourself for a little solo excursion?"