5: The Holy Road

The Holy Road

Book Five of the Rifter

By Ginn Hale

Published by:

Blind Eye Books

1141 Grant Street

Bellingham, WA 98225

blindeyebooks.com

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may used or reproduced in any manner without the written permission of the publisher, except for the purpose of reviews.

Edited by Nicole Kimberling

Cover art, maps and all illustrations by Dawn Kimberling

Proofreading by Jemma Everyhope

This book is a work of fiction. All characters and situations depicted are fictional. Any resemblances to actual people or events are coincidental.

First edition July 2011

Copyright © 2011 Ginn Hale

ISBN 978-1-935560-05-0

Huge thanks to Josh Lanyon. You’re an inspiration.

—Ginn

When John uses a key that belongs to his mysterious, scarred roommate, Kyle, to unlock a door in a crumbling ruin, he and two friends are transported to the world of Basawar.

John and his best friends, Laurie and her lover Bill, befriend a young priest named Ravishan and learn from him that their only hope to return home is to find a way into the monastery of Rathal’pesha, where talented young men like Ravishan are trained to travel instantly across countless miles through the Gray Space.

But ongoing attacks by peasant revolutionaries called the Fai’daum make church leaders and the ruling class highly suspicious of newcomers like John and his friends, and after witnessing witches and suspected revolutionaries being burned on the Holy Road, John knows he can’t simply appear at the city gates, much less the doors of Rathal’pesha, and expect a warm welcome. His chance to prove his character arises when he overhears Fai’daum members planning an attack against the noble Bousim family’s caravan.

John warns the men guarding the caravan but then must take part in a counterattack. During a night of brutal battle, John saves the lives of both a Bousim soldier named Alidas and a young Fai’daum revolutionary called Saimura. In the process, he comes face-to-face with the demoness, Ji Shir’korud, who wears the flesh—and teeth—of a large golden dog.

Because of his bravery, John and his friends are allowed to join the Bousim household.

Lady Bousim takes Laurie and Bill into her personal entourage. John, on the other hand, chooses to accompany Lady Bousim’s son Fikiri to Rathal’pesha. There, John hopes to find the key that will take him and his friends back home. John’s handsome friend Ravishan is overjoyed to see him again, but Ushman Dayyid, second-in-command under Ushman Nuritam, takes an immediate disliking to John. Despite the fact that John wins the friendship of many priests, including Ushiri Ashan’ahma, Ushvun Samsango, the physician Ushman Hann’yu, as well as Ushiri Ravishan, Dayyid’s animosity only grows.

And all is not well in Lady Bousim’s household either. Not only has the Lady Bousim begun instructing Laurie in the forbidden art of witchcraft but the commander of the cavalry, Rasho Tashtu, has taken an unseemly interest in Laurie.

When Tashtu assaults Laurie during the yearly Harvest Fair, John intervenes to save her. But later that night, when John learns that a young woman accused of witchcraft is to be burned alive, he can do nothing. Worse still, Ravishan must light the pyre.

As the woman burns, John unknowingly shows the first hint of the true power that lies dormant within him by unconsciously summoning a torrent of rain. But it comes too late to save the woman. While sheltering from the storm with Ravishan, John learns that Ravishan’s parents were members of the Fai’daum. When they were apprehended, Ravishan was forced by Dayyid to burn his own mother alive so that he could save his sister, Rousma, and himself.

As the months pass, John finds he can hardly contain his growing disdain for Dayyid and his bullying. John fears that if he doesn’t find a way home soon, the animosity between himself and Dayyid may escalate to violence.

Dayyid even convinces Fikiri to spy on John and Ravishan from the hidden depths of the Gray Space. Fikiri discovers John and Ravishan’s budding romance, which is forbidden in Basawar, and blackmails them, insisting that Ravishan bring him and his mother with them when they leave for Nayeshi.

Finally the news that Laurie is pregnant with Bill’s baby only makes their situation more urgent: they must get home before the child is born and Laurie is no longer able to protect it from the dangerous passage through the Great Gates with her body.

And now, in the fourth year of John’s exile in Basawar, another Harvest Fair begins…

Despite the heavy canvas walls of the taverner’s tent, the noise and perfumes of the surrounding Harvest Fair infiltrated the air. John easily picked out the musical calls of taye sellers and salt vendors. He could smell frying dumplings and freshly cut onions. The laughter of men and children drifted past, as did the soft murmurs of women’s conversations.

Inside, his surroundings felt far more subdued. The muscular, bearded proprietor and his serving women gathered around the stacked barrels of beer, wine, and liquor. They spoke quietly among themselves as they filled flagons and rough clay pitchers. One girl tended a small charcoal fire where kettles of daru’sira stood heating.

The majority of the men seated around the tables spoke in lowered voices and wore expressions that struck John as somber if not solemn. He supposed it wasn’t the joyous men of the world who needed to drink themselves into oblivion before noon. Though, the dampening presence of both an ushiri and an ushman among their company could also have been responsible for the oddly sober atmosphere.

“Such a serious expression, Jahn.” Ravishan swayed on the bench seat beside him. A flush colored his pale cheeks and his eyes were both dark and glistening beneath the shadows of his sharp black brows. “You should have a drink.” He held up his small glass and the strong floral tang of potent flower liqueur drifted from it.

“I promise you there is no point in attempting to lure Jahn,” Hann’yu commented from across the table. He cupped a mead glass gently between his tanned hands but drank little from it. “Nothing tempts him.”

“I’m sure something does.” Ravishan’s speculative stare was only interrupted by the arrival of a plump young woman with thick black bands tattooed around her tanned fingers. She placed another steaming pot of daru’sira down on the table in front of John. He thanked her and she smiled in a long-suffering manner. Her livelihood was not made by plying men with inexpensive daru’sira. However, her expression lit up as she noted the nearly empty pitcher of flower liqueur in front of Ravishan. But Hann’yu caught her attention and requested a plate of cutlets before she could offer Ravishan a second round of the liqueur.

Ravishan dropped his gaze from John to the small glass in front of him. He threw back another shot, shuddered at the strong alcoholic burn, then slowly refilled his drink.

“You should probably let the first few settle before you have another,” Hann’yu suggested.

Ravishan frowned.

“I’m speaking from firsthand experience,” Hann’yu informed him. “You have to wait, or you’ll throw up the liqueur you’ve been working all morning to put away.”

“Just as well.” Ravishan sighed. “The stuff tastes like hell.” He pulled his hands back from the full glass as if he were dragging limp birds across the table.

John poured himself a fresh cup of the bitter daru’sira, aware that Ravishan was again watching him intently. A smoky breeze drifted from some nearby cooking fire through the tent and Ravishan shuddered.

John searched for something to say to Ravishan but could think of nothing of any value to offer him. He knew too well why Ravishan had fled Dayyid’s company and was now intently drinking himself into a stupor. But whether Ravishan was drunk or sober, nightfall would come and with it his duty to bear the torch that would burn some young man alive.

John could think of no consolation for that inevitability.

And in any case, Hann’yu was certainly more experienced as far as Basawar liquor was concerned.

“A gentleman drinks as he might ravish a lovely woman,” Hann’yu stated with an easy smile. “He paces himself, prolonging the pleasure and ensuring that he enjoys all that is offered.”

“You imagine that I’m a gentleman?” Ravishan gave an unlovely snort of derision and stole a sidelong glance at John.

“You have the potential,” Hann’yu replied, though he seemed more amused than serious.

“No, that’s Jahn.” Ravishan slumped against the back of the wooden bench and studied John openly. Something in the intensity of his stare warned John to look aside—at all costs avoiding that hungry, penetrating gaze. He took a quick drink of his daru’sira.

“Ah, good, decent Jahn,” Ravishan murmured. “He only drinks daru’sira. Never shirks his duties. Isn’t there anything bad that you’d like to do?” Ravishan’s seductive smile alarmed John with both its blatancy and its effect upon him. He felt his skin flushing and then stole a guilty glance across the bench to Hann’yu.

Hann’yu took a long drink, then lowered his mead glass. He just shook his head at John.

“Pour him a little daru’sira,” Hann’yu suggested. John handed his own cup to Ravishan. Briefly their hands brushed, but John quickly withdrew. Ravishan scowled at the brown clay vessel.

“I’m sick of daru’sira,” he grumbled. “I’m sick of tea and taye and prayers and practice. I want to do something else. I want to get drunk and neglect my duties. Maybe I want to be seduced.”

“This brew’s not actually all that bad—” John was cut off as Ravishan toppled into him. He felt Ravishan’s hand brush against his thigh and Ravishan’s lips press against the bare skin of his neck. An instant later Hann’yu helped him pull Ravishan upright. Ravishan grinned blearily at John.

“Just don’t try to move too suddenly,” Hann’yu advised Ravishan. “You’re not used to flower liqueur. It goes to a man’s head quickly. Wait a little while.”

“All I do is wait,” Ravishan growled. “I want to do something. I don’t even care what, just something.”

“You’re not doing anything in the condition you’re in right now,” Hann’yu said.