Captured! - Draft One

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After another week, they came to the second river. This river, called the Karyot, was sluggish and clogged with dirt, rocks, and reeds. The muddy water was a filthy green color, reflecting the sun dully. Mark mentioned to Jordan and Tessa that the word karyot was a werian name over the campfire one night.

"Do you know what it means?" He asked curiously.

"Crystalline," Tessa and Jordan answered automatically. Tessa continued, "It used to be that this water was the purest around. Then a city pretty far up in the north became the biggest city for inventors–Egenda, it's called–and they poisoned it so much that everything along the river died. Now there's a whole committee of people working to clean it faster than the river would normally clean itself."

"Right," Mark said. "Egenda was where most of the last wizards were from, wasn't it?"

"I think so," Tessa said.

Jordan watched sleepily as the two discussed various points of history until they came to the great kings. Tessa was stretched out on her bedroll, propped up on her elbows and explaining the great King Callan to Jordan.

"He was the one that created the Order of the Gods, wasn't he? And they instituted the Warriors of Callan–"

"Other way 'round," Mark interrupted quietly.

"How do you know?" Jordan asked, surprised.

"Cause my father was one," he answered shortly. Tessa and Jordan shared a glance across the nightly campfire. "One of the greatest Warriors of his time."

"Was?" Tessa leaned forward. "I thought you said he was still alive."

Mark shifted uncomfortably. "He is... in a sense. He's just... a little incapacitated. He was never right after Colin–after one particular mission. The Warriors told him to take a break while there was peace in the land and that they'd call him if there was trouble."

"And has there been?"

"Oh, sure," Mark gave them a half smile. "But he's not supposed to know that."

Jordan shifted so she was closer to the glowing embers of the fire. "Is that what this is? Your job?"

"Yeah. I work for Charles Per most of the time, but when he doesn't have anything for me to do, a friend in Magonalt and I like to travel." He fell silent suddenly. "Anyway, we have a long way to go tomorrow. Best get to sleep."

Tessa and Jordan shared another glance. "Good night, Mark," Jordan said quietly before she and Tessa fell asleep together.

They followed the border of the desert north for the next three days. They were walking along the dry riverbed to give the horses a rest when Jordan spotted a larger group riding toward them, just inside the desert.

It was a group of seven or eight tall human and werian men, wearing colorful cloth on their heads and flowing cloaks to ward off the sun. Their horses were sleek and well-built, their coats gleaming in the bright sunshine.

Wesson and Mark didn't want anything to do with them, but Tessa insisted on talking to them at the very least. "Not many of us have been to the desert before," she reasoned. "They look like they live here, we should at least ask them where we should cross the river." Mark finally relented, albeit grudgingly. However, he still had his hand on his dagger in preparation for trouble.

When the two groups were even with each other, Tessa called out, "Hello! You there, could you tell us a good spot to cross into the desert?"

The men across from them all halted as one and turned to look curiously at the five travelers. A tall human wearing a dirty yellow robe hefted a spear hanging from a loop in his saddle. "Who are you?" He waved his men forward through the shallow, sluggish river and surrounded them.

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