The Key of Amatahns

  ***

  Nothing in all the land was quite as mind numbing as the Norwin Pass, Janir decided. It was not beautiful enough to be soothing nor ugly enough to be interesting. It was so normal that it was unearthly.

  It had been more than a week now since they had left the white spires and turrets of Adasha, rising from the sands like towers of ivory. On the day they set out, the Lord Argetallam himself had come to see them off.

  He had been in a better mood then and handed her a mahogany box polished to a shine. He told her to open it when she reached Sanreal, that it might help her figure out a way to deal with her brother when she came back. Now it was stashed in her pony’s saddlebags, safely tucked away.

  Janir was big enough now to ride on her own, a fact of which she was very proud. She looked forward to arriving in Sanreal, where there were many open fields and training pens, perfect for practicing.

  Who knew? Maybe she would even be better than Lucan when she got back.

  “I love you, Janir. Very much.” Her mother interrupted her thoughts, leaning across from her own horse and squeezing Janir’s small hand. “Never forget that, my child.”

  “I love you, too.” Janir wasn’t sure why her mother would say it right now, but it was not unlike her to say things like that for no apparent reason.

  No sooner had Janir spoken than an arrow zipped past her ear and buried itself in the neck of one of their guards. Janir never remembered much of what happened that day, just blood and screaming, voices shouting orders and other voices calling for help. She fell off her pony, but beyond that she only remembered still images and sounds.

  Janir did recall feeling something painful slice the side of her neck, screaming, and falling to the ground in a heap.