Servants and Followers (The Legends of Arria, Volume 2) Read Free

make up for them in a way that said at least he had
tried to make a difference in this world, at least he had tried to
do some good in the world, before it was too late. Perhaps that was
why he felt like he needed to make peace with himself, and with
those around him. Perhaps that was why he felt the need to
challenge Doomba, and say that at least he had tried to destroy him
in his own way. Maybe Kala felt the same way.
    Perhaps
he feared that he had made a mistake in sending these boys out to
their deaths at the hands of Doomba or his minions, and nothing would come of it, no changes
would be made in this world. He was afraid that they would fail,
especially as they knew next to nothing about what they were
supposed to be doing out there, really doing, and not just
searching for Tau’s Cup.
    Perhaps
he should have tried to tell them the truth, warned them of the
consequences of their actions and what they might have to face once
they were out there, what they might have to do, but they would
have laughed at him. They
never would have believed him, especially when he had hardly
anything left to prove his story, and they would not have even
tried to enter the Wastelands, willing to prove him wrong by doing
the exact opposite of what he said. No, whatever else might happen,
they would have to learn the truth for themselves, and hopefully
they might see that this was the right thing to do, that this was
the best thing to do, and that what they had to face in the end was
nothing compared to what might happen to them, and to everyone
else, if they failed.

Chapter 2: Fato
    When the day arrives, let it be
known
    Throughout the world that I faced my
fate
    With dignity and stamina. Let it be
known that,
    In the end, I laughed in the face of
death.
    -- King Wartart of the War Kings,
Arria
     
    “ The rats, the rats
are burning,” Basha muttered, still asleep but arising from the
fog, as he tossed over to the other side of his body. Morning had
broken over the camp, light ascending and sweeping over their
surroundings, as Mila Forest stretched out all around
them . T he smoke from Coe Baba
was a distant memory, though a few homesteads and encampments could
be located within a few miles from the trail that they followed,
winding along with the western fork of the River Daneuve on its way
to Coe Anji.
    “ Shut up, Basha,”
Oaka, his adoptive brother, muttered from where he lied a short
distance away.
    This was the third
night Basha had spent in the forest, farther away from home than he
had ever been, or since he had run away from home as a child,
learning then that he was adopted and that his birth mother Kala had
left him with basically nothing but his name, her name, and a
handkerchief , no knowledge of his birth father, or of their
lives. Basha had found the truth difficult to cope with at
first, especially knowing that others might think him a balnor, an
illegitimate son born without much worth, but he had managed to
survive the forest on his own until he was found, and then when he
was brought back home he went on with his life as if things were
not different, though they were.
    “ Oaka?” Basha said,
opening his eyes and sitting up.
    “ What?” Oaka
sighed.
    “ The rats, I
was … ” Basha started to say.
    “ You always dream
about the rats,” Oaka said.
    “ I do?” Basha asked,
stunned as he turned towards him.
    “ You always dream
about the rats, you say so in your sleep : ‘the rats are burning, the
rats are burning’, or something else like that. So what else is
new?” Oaka asked, sitting up as well.
    “ Oaka, how do you
know ? ”
    “ We’ve shared the
same bedroom and bed for many years now, Basha, I think I should
know what you mutter in your sleep.” Oaka muttered.
    Basha blinked and
shook his head, thinking about going back to sleep as he tried to
recall just what had been in his dream. There had been rats, he
remembered that, they were chasing after him through the forest,
and then there was a woman