The Misplaced Prince (The Disinherited Prince Series Book 6) by Guy Antibes

Author:Guy Antibes [Antibes, Guy]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Casiepress LLC
Published: 2017-06-09T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Five

~

B oth caravans spent the night at the top. In the morning, the two groups headed their separate ways. The caravan master had Pol ride beside his wagon.

“I want you to ride ahead and tell the next guard post what happened at the top of the trail. They will want to get it manned again. Don’t worry about us. I’ve never heard of a caravan assaulted on this road. We’ll be fine with the two remaining guards. I’ll make sure they switch back end duty. You’ll be receiving a big reward in Axtopol. All you have to do is follow the road and head on into the city. There is a caravan depot just before you arrive in Axtopol. Wait there. We should be there in a couple of weeks.”

Pol nodded and headed along the road. It was well-marked. It took him three days to reach the next guard post. It looked big enough to house a full squad, about ten men.

“Stay right there,” one of the guards spoke in broken Kirian.

“I’ve already stopped,” Pol said in Zasosian. “I have some news.”

Pol told them about what happened on the trail up the escarpment and at the guard post at the top.

“That has happened before,” one of the guards admitted. “Perhaps now Axtopol will man it with more than a couple of us.”

“I’ll be happy to go with another guard or two to your capital and describe what happened.”

“You are a seasoned guard for someone your age, if your tale is to be believed.”

Pol shrugged. “You can believe me or not. The caravan that will follow can verify what they saw.”

“You didn’t kill the guards?”

“Why would I?” Pol said. “There are two Kirian bodies at the post, as well as the Zasosian ones.”

The guard pursed his lips. “Very well. Don’t think we won’t check.”

“Go ahead,” Pol said. He tried to quell the frustration building inside.

Pol was soon on the road with two guards, heading towards Axtopol.

“Will we run across any tribes?”

One of the guards shrugged. “Maybe. Just as long as we don’t run into a war.”

“What are those?” Pol said.

“Rival tribes fight all the time. If we come across one, we either stop and wait it out or go around.”

“What happens if we don’t?” Pol asked.

The other guard shook his head. “We could get swept up in the conflict, and we have to struggle to keep out of it. I’ve been caught in one once and don’t want it to happen again.”

“I have a friend who was assigned to a tribe.”

“What did he do?”

“Akil didn’t please his father.”

“Is his father a clan noble?”

Pol nodded. “He is.”

“It is hard to return to the city.”

“How does one go about it?”

“Win,” a guard said. “The tribe has to win five conflicts in a row; then they have the option of living in the city. When that happens, many of the tribal members don’t care to take their reward. Some want to spend their lives on the plains.”

“I don’t get it,” Pol said. “It sounds like some game.

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