Nena Ann Boelter (english books to improve english .TXT) 📖

out into the clear turquoise waters while children from the sea tribe paddled around her in tiny boats, laughing and playing. Though she knew how to swim, she’d kept her feet planted firmly in the soft sand, feeling the power in the small waves that pushed and pulled at her like a living thing—a living thing so vast, one’s eyes could not take it all in with a single look. That power had frightened her, as she was sure it also had the other young Teclan warriors who waded with her, though none admitted it.

Her father had explained to them that the Great Sea protected those of the sea tribes as the Great Mountain protected the Teclan. He cautioned all the warriors that any attempt to ever pursue a sea tribe out onto the water would be fatal, even though they made navigating it appear easy. The Great Sea, when angered, could raise walls of water taller than three men, destroying anything in its path.

So how had the Northmen been able to cross it? And Altene said they came from a land that had seas larger than the Great Sea? Impossible. She returned her focus to Altene. “So there are more of them on the ships? How many?”

“I don’t know, however many it takes to sail them. At the port they will sell everything they do not wish to take back with them, including most of the prisoners for slaves.”

“They don’t sell all the prisoners? They take some with them?” Nena asked.

“Yes, for labor when they must move the ships over the land.” Altene smiled. “And for other things they may be good at.”

“Have any who have been taken ever returned?” Nena asked.

Altene paused. “Not that I know of.”

“What do you think becomes of them?”

“How should I know?” Altene snapped. “I’m sure many die on the journey. The labor of moving the ships is supposed to be nigh impossible.”

“And yet you wish to go?” Nena asked.

“My labor will be of a far more delicate nature.”

“Hmm,” Nena murmured. “Has he shared with you then, his plans to take you with him?”

“Not in so many words, but his intentions have been plain.”

Nena looked out over the endless grasslands and reflected on Altene’s words as the wagon continued its agonizingly slow pace. “Before I was here, did you ride in the wagon or walk with the others?” she asked.

“I always rode. Jarl prefers me well-rested at the end of the day. As you will soon discover.”

Nena scowled and Altene laughed.

For Nena, the long days in the wagon seemed never to pass. The landscape afforded little relief with only occasional trees when they were close to a river. On days when the air was still, the clouds of dust raised by the caravan threatened to choke her. Some days Altene was talkative. Others she sat in surly silence, refusing to answer a single question. Jarl had refuted her earlier claim of wanting her well-rested. She had yet to share his furs even once, and Nena could see that disturbed her greatly.

Every night, Jarl’s tent was set up, though most of his belongings remained packed on the wagon, and many of his men slept under the stars. Nena soon realized the tent was not for his comfort. It was a battle planning station and scouts reported in at all hours of the night. Maps were perused, routes were adjusted.

Even had she not been privy to every conversation and every plan, Nena would still have known when the next target village was close. The men were tense and excited, eager to fight. It came as no surprise to her when Jarl ordered the halt of the procession and a full camp to be set up. The same two men unpacked the wagon, placing every item exactly where it had been before, and Jarl returned her to the pole.

The routine in his tent picked up much where it had left off, with Jarl settling grievances and dealing with camp business. The most significant difference were the many reports from the reconnaissance teams. Every activity of the next village was documented and relayed to him. Nena couldn’t help but wonder what the scouts had reported when her small party had arrived at the Eastern Plains tribe the day before the tournament. Seeing the minute details his men provided him with now, she was sure it would have been noted. What had they said to him? “Nine other natives arrived today. Armed, but no threat.” It was difficult for her to accept that was all it would have appeared to be to an outsider—that such a major event in her life could be reduced to nothing more than those nine words.

While the last minute plans were made, Nena again could only watch and file away the details of how things changed when they attacked—how many men went to fight, how many men stayed behind to guard things. She waited and prayed for an opportunity to escape.

The next village fell quickly. From all reports, the Northmen suffered few casualties and Jarl ordered only two days of rest—time enough to take a full accounting of their most recent acquisitions. Then they were packed and traveling again.

The next time the full camp was set up, it was expected to be for a longer stay than any of the previous ones. Scouts had reported several potential targets in the vicinity. Jarl chose a campsite near a wooded area and a fork in the river. It was a good location, centrally located from which to attack, and able to sustain the camp for an extended period of time. As the days dragged by, Nena continued to learn about the Northmen, about Jarl, about other Dor, even about herself. Many of the things uncomfortably contradicted what she’d been taught and had known her entire life to be true, and much of what she learned she would have preferred not to know.

After being so long in his nearly constant presence, it was impossible not