Burning Skies A Ragnar Stormbringer Tale by Stephen Zimmer

Author:Stephen Zimmer
Format: epub

***

With no clouds to obstruct the resplendent display, a flickering canopy of stars adorned the newly manifested night sky. A bright, nearly full moon draped its silvery luminance across the arid landscape.

Striding forward, Ragnar eyed the shadows encompassing the loose column of warriors. No wind stirred the air, and a weighty stillness permeated the area.

Rugged scrub clutched the ground everywhere he looked.

As of yet, there was no sign of the ifrit, but the night had just begun. Staying out of the open, their path hugged the base of the plateau still looming to the right.

Though their weapons availed them nothing against an ifrit, all of the warriors kept their weapons in hand. ifrits were not the only potential dangers within a desert wilderness.

After another league passed in the deepening night with no hint of the ifrit, the mood of the warriors began to lift a little. The absence of pursuit lent further credence to Ragnar’s insight that the oil somehow marked the warriors to be spared the ifrit’s wrath.

Though fatigued, Ragnar still could not let them stop for a longer rest. It was possible the ifrit had returned to its netherworld domain, or the oil shielded the warriors, but he could not be for certain about either possibility.

The sooner they returned to Kadaros, the better their chances stood if the ifrit were to manifest again.

“Long ago, I learned out on the plains that silence is not the absence of things,” Ishpakai remarked in a low voice, as they continued marching along.

Ragnar turned his eyes to the big man, nearly of the same height as himself. With a long moustache and shaggy beard that descended to the midst of his broad chest, the Scythan warrior’s appearance echoed the wilds he had come from.

The variant of axe he carried, the head of which took the form of a tapering spike, was a devastating weapon in his skilled hands. To Ragnar’s eyes, Ishpakai appeared poised to use it at any moment.

His other hand gripped a dagger with a single honed edge that had a slight curvature to its profile. Back in Ishpakai’s homeland, victorious warriors used such blades to cut the scalps off fallen opponents, to keep and display along their belts. Ragnar was not disappointed that Ishpakai did not embrace that custom after he joined the mercenary group.

“Silence is often a warning,” Ragnar replied.

Ishpakai gazed toward the moon above. “Some fortune may be with us. The night has grown late and there is yet no sign of the ifrit.”

“It is highly possible the oil is what I think it is,” Ragnar said.

“A mark to spare us from being harmed by it,” Ishpakai stated, looking over to Ragnar. “My heart tells me it would have made its presence known by now, otherwise.”

“Whatever the truth is, I have no desire to see one again,” Ragnar replied.

“Do you think it will be far to Kadaros?” Ishpakai asked.

“We must reach the end of these plateaus before we can turn toward the south,” Ragnar stated. “The blockage of the path south from the caves forced us a few leagues eastward.

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