PROLOGUE
Year of Our Lord 1190
The fall of the Kingdom of Kitara
The smell of smoke was heavy in the air.
That was all he really knew—that it was smoky and smelly and he was running. So much
running. He was too young to know how critical this night was, how horrific in its measure. A
kingdom that had existed for a thousand years was now in danger of going up in smoke and there
was no way to stop it. A thousand years of life and love and beauty, of culture and joy, was about
to become a pile of ash.
The hot desert winds were carrying the smoke and embers, flowing from one cottage to the
next, igniting the thatched roof so that the dry grass went up like a torch. But the fire had been
deliberate, set by the King of Kitara so that the Mongols from the north, and a leader named
Temüjin, could not have his beloved city. He’d rather burn it than surrender.
But it was even worse than that.
They had been betrayed.
King Amare, tall and powerful, with eyes the color of jade and skin as smooth as polished
stone, watched the fire from Larkana Palace, the residence of more than two dozen generations
of his family. But tonight would see that legacy come to an end, because the royal family of
Kitara had been betrayed from within. Amare was so emotionally wounded by the betrayal that it
was difficult for him to face the task ahead. One of desperation, one of reckoning.
But it had to be done.
He had to kill his brother.
Prince Ekon was four years younger than Amare and had coveted the throne since he was a
young boy. There had been numerous attempts on Amare’s life over the years, and the general
belief was that most of them had been orchestrated by Ekon, who simply denied the accusations
and threw himself on his brother’s mercy. It wasn’t mercy he wanted, but fragility. He played on
his brother’s one weakness—his love for his family.
Even for those who betrayed him.
Amare knew this. He was well aware of his brother’s ploys. He was well aware of the man’s
movements, his subversion, and even his attempts to seduce Amare’s own wife. Rumor had it
that the youngest child, a beautiful daughter named Adanya, was Ekon’s child. Since Amare and
Ekon looked quite similar to one another and the daughter had the same green eyes, perhaps the
truth would never be known, even though Amare’s wife vehemently denied anything illicit.
Given that Amare loved her, and she had always been quite loyal, he believed her. But the
rumors continued, and Amare ignored them.
The price of his ignorance, however, would be high. Ekon had taken a journey some time ago
into the north after he’d tried to assassinate one of Amare’s generals. Amare had sent him north
as a diplomat, trying to give him a useful position in the hope that it would satisfy him, but it
didn’t. The intent of Ekon’s journey was to seek trade with the tribes to the north and the vast
empire that was established there, but Ekon had done something quite different. Rather than
establish ties for his brother’s kingdom, he’d managed to ally himself with the most feared
warlord in the world.
A man he had promised his fealty, should he remove Amare from the throne.
And that was why Temüjin had come.
Amare and his loyalists had known of the approach of his army for a couple of weeks now,
ever since the outposts began reporting the movement of the enormous army southward. Amare
had listened to the reports in horror, and when he sent for Ekon, his brother was nowhere to be
found. As the days passed and the army drew closer, Amare knew that his brother could be found
somewhere in the approaching army, and he further knew that, given the size of the force, his
own army, which was trained and sizable, would be facing a suicide mission.
And so would his people.
But Amare would have the last word.
It was with a heavy heart that Amare ordered his own city burned before the Mongols could
get to it. His army was out there right now, helping the villagers flee and burning their homes
behind them. When Amare had been told, by a double agent, that Ekon was indeed with the
approaching army and was promised Kitara’s throne, Amare knew he had to destroy everything.
He’d rather do that than let his brother have it.
Ekon would be the king of ashes.
As Amare pondered the course his life would take, in the stone halls of the palace, something
else was happening. Fear was happening as his wife, Queen Kiya, went on the hunt for her
children. They were supposed to be with their nurse, but the old woman seemed to have
vanished.
Kiya could only pray that she hadn’t vanished with her children, but she had yet to find them.
There was a caravan waiting to take them away and time was growing short, so Kiya and her
women were running down the corridors, checking chambers, until they finally came to the
chamber where the old nurse usually slept. It was a small chamber with a wide balcony and linen
curtains hanging in front of the opening that led to the patios beyond. The glow of the city to the
east was creating a silhouette of small figures through the linen, and she pushed through them to
find all three children on the balcony, watching the fires beyond.
“Thanks to God,” she gasped as she rushed to them, falling to her knees. “You are all safe!”
She was grasping Essien and Adanya, her baby. They were the youngest. Adanya had only
recently learned to walk, but she was bright and quick and wanted to do everything her older
brothers did. As usual, Essien had the baby by the hand. It was rare when he let her out of his
sight, so Kiya put her arms around them, hugging them, as Addax stoically watched the fires.
“There is fire, Maman,” the boy said, pointing.
Kiya looked up from her youngest children, noting that the fire, which had seemed distant
only minutes before, seemed to be growing closer. Smoke was in the air, embers blowing about.
She was trying so hard to be calm, but it was difficult.
“I know,” she said. “We must go and find your father now. He will want us with him.”
“Bam said that soldiers are coming,” Essien said, referring to their nurse. “Are soldiers
coming, Maman?”
Kiya swallowed hard, trying to hide her fear. “They are,” she said. “That is why we must go
to your father now.”
Essien, two years younger than Addax, was nonetheless already as tall as his older brother.
He had long arms and strong legs for his age, something Amare was quite proud of. He pointed
in the distance, to the fire, and made slashing gestures.
“I will fight them,” he declared. “When they come here, I will stab them and beat them!”
Kiya put her hand on his shaved head. “You are very brave,” she told him. “Your father will
be very proud of you. Shall we go and find him?”
She didn’t give him a chance to answer. She swung Adanya into her arms and took Essien by
the hand, leading them away from the edge of the balcony. She called softly to Addax, who was
reluctant to tear himself away from the view. Even at his young age, he could sense his mother’s
fear.
Something evil was happening.
When they reached the large corridor that led to the throne room, Kiya handed Adanya over
to one of her ladies and continued on to where her husband was. The boys were still with her,
tagging along behind her, as she rushed into the room where Amare was watching the collapse of
his kingdom.
“My love!” Kiya gasped. “What are you doing here? The caravan is ready to take us by river
out to the sea. We must hurry!”
Amare turned to look at his wife. God, he was glad to see her. Kiya was such a lovely
creature, so graceful and beautiful and kind. She had been an arranged marriage, a princess of
her people in the land of the pharaohs known as Kemet, but the moment Amare set eyes on her
was the moment he fell in love with her. Before he could answer, Addax and Essien ran up
behind her, throwing themselves at their father. Amare laughed softly as he collected his sons.
He was a warm and loving father, but tonight, he was perhaps a little more loving and warm.
He knew it would be the last time he ever held his children.
“Addax,” he said, giving the boys a squeeze before he set them on their feet. “Essien, look at
me. I have something very important to ask you.”
Essien and Addax obeyed, at least at first. But a few seconds of obedience deteriorated into
both boys trying to climb back into his arms, so his next request to them was more of an order.
“Es, stop climbing,” he commanded softly. “Stand still. That’s good. Something very
important is happening tonight, and you must be part of it.”
Addax, the less squirmy of the two, was watching his father seriously. “An army is coming,
Abba,” he said. “We have come to help you fight.”
Abba. That meant father. It would be the last time he ever heard it from his sons, and Amare
smiled at his brave boy. “And you are very courageous,” he said. “I am honored to have you by
my side. But I have an even more important task for you.”
Addax cocked his head curiously. “What, Abba?”
Amare wasn’t sure he could keep his composure knowing it would be the last time he was
addressed as father. But time was not his friend on this night—it was passing more quickly than
usual—so he pulled his boys against him one last time, hugging them fiercely.
But his heart was breaking.
“You must get your mother to safety,” he said, indicating Kiya as she stood behind the boys
and tried not to weep. “You must go with her and protect her. Will you do this for me?”
Addax and Essien looked at their mother before Addax returned his attention to his father.
“But what about you?” he asked. “Who will help you fight?”
Amare forced a smile. “I have the entire army to help me fight,” he said, making it sound as
if it were nothing at all. “But your mother does not command an army. She has a few servants,
but you two are her very best warriors. Will you please do this for me?”
Essien nodded solemnly, but Addax was still hesitant. “She has Bobo and Rani to help her,”
he said. “But you need me.”
He was referring to the old women who served his mother, but Amare nodded sincerely.
“Indeed, I do need you,” he said. “I will always need you, Addax, and right now I need you to
take care of your mother. Promise me.”
Addax sighed heavily before finally nodding. Essien, who had the attention span of a
mosquito at this age, stuck his finger up his nose and began to turn around, looking for his
mother, looking at the people who were hovering on the fringe of the room. Men who had served
his father for many years. He recognized them. As his father spoke to Addax about a dragon-
headed dagger, Essien reached a small hand out to his mother, tugging on her gossamer skirt.
“Maman?” he said. “Maman, I am hungry. Can I have cheese?”
Kiya, who had been listening to Amare explain the significance of the dragon-headed dagger
carried by every Kitara king back to the beginning, knelt down to speak quietly to her youngest
son.
“Not now,” she said, tightening up the little belt he wore to secure his trousers. “We must
leave, and then I shall find you some cheese.”
Essien watched her as she fussed with his clothing. “Maman?”
“What is it?”
“Why do you weep?”
Kiya came to a halt, lifting her eyes from the belt to his little face. Essien had always been
her intuitive child, the one who could see beyond the façade, beyond the words that one spoke or
the gestures one completed. He was interested in people. Though she’d not wept in front of him,
he could see it in her eyes.
She couldn’t lie to him.
“I weep because I am afraid,” she said honestly. “I weep because I worry for you and your
brother and your sister.”
Essien cocked his head thoughtfully. “But you should not worry,” he said. “We will be safe
soon and I will eat cheese.”
Kiya grinned. “You shall, indeed,” she said. “But we must go on a journey first, before you
will be safe. Do you remember the journey we took on the boat in the summertime? When we
saw Jido?”
She was referring to the journey they’d taken across the sea. It had taken half of the
summertime to reach a port where her father, Shadhi, the hereditary but deposed ruler of Cairo,
had met her and her children. He’d never seen them before. Shadhi had taken great delight in his
daughter’s offspring, and in particular Essien, because he bore the characteristics of someone
born in Kemet. Egypt. He had fine, sculpted features even at his young age and eyes the color of
a tiger’s eye stone. In fact, he looked strikingly similar to his jido, or maternal grandfather, and
Shadhi had naturally taken to him.
Essien remembered it well.
“He called me Horus,” he said. “He gave me sweets.”
Kiya laughed softly. “He did, indeed,” she said. “And your first name is Horus, in honor of
the land of my birth. That is why he called you by the name.”
“Adda calls me Essien.”
Kiya nodded, still smiling. “Because that is the name from the land of his birth,” she said.
“You are Horus Essien Nazimuddin Mei al-Kort. You are named for the falcon-headed god of
protection and healing. You are destined to protect, Essien. That is what you must do now—you
must protect your sister and your brother, but you must never let them know.”
“Why not?”
“Because Addax would not take kindly to being protected by his younger brother,” she said.
“But that is why you were put on this earth, my love. To protect and thrive. The gods of ancient
Kemet watch over you, even now. They will see you safely through this.”
Essien had to think about that. He didn’t exactly understand all of it, but he felt proud
knowing he bore the name of a god of protection. But behind him, his father and Addax had
finished their conversation and Amare interrupted Essien’s moment with his mother.
“Where is Adanya?” Amare asked.
Kiya looked up from her youngest son. “She is already at the river with her nurse,” she said
softly. “She is so young. She would not understand this parting. But the boys…”
Amare nodded quickly, for there was no reason for her to continue. It would be the last time
their sons faced their father, so it was more important for them. And more important that Amare
say what he needed to say.
“Thank you, my love, for allowing me to bid them farewell,” he said. Then he cupped her
face with one hand and gently kissed her mouth. “You must hurry. I sent word to your father
when the army from the north approached. He will not receive the missive for some time, but
you must be on your way so his ships can meet yours. The captain of your ship knows the way,
and by the time your ship reaches the Red Sea, your father should be on his way to meet you.
You and the children will be safe in Cairo.”
Her tears started to come. “And you, my darling?” she whispered. “What about you?”
He forced a smile, kissing her again. “I must do what I was destined to do,” he said bravely.
“What I was meant to do. I will burn Lankara to the ground, and when there is only smoke and
ashes left, I will kill my brother.”
“What if he kills you first?”
Amare shrugged. “Then I will see you in paradise,” he said. “But know… know that you
have made my life paradise on earth, Kiya. No man has ever loved a woman more than I have
loved you.”
“And I love you with every breath I take,” she murmured. “That will never stop, not in this
world or any other.”
“I know, mere jaan.”
“Promise me, Amare. If you can escape to Egypt, promise that you will come to us.”
“I promise. But if I do not… this farewell was well made. It has given me courage.”
She started to weep. Weeks of being strong had reached the breaking point. But Amare
shushed her softly, turning her around and hustling her toward the servants who were waiting for
her. Essien grabbed her hand, holding it tightly as they rushed along. Amare took them to the
secret palace exit, where tunnels would take them to the river beyond, where ships awaited, and
then the river would take them to the sea and westward. At the exit, Amare came to a halt and
kissed his wife one last time, kissed Essien, and took a moment with Addax as the boy faced
him.
“Be strong, my son,” he whispered, struggling not to weep. “In the face of whatever this life
will bring you, be strong, be honest, and be loyal to those you love. Promise me.”
“I promise, Abba.”
Amare smiled weakly. “Good,” he said, turning him to his mother and the rest of the escort
bound for the tunnels. The servants were already dressing Essien in a disguise as a servant’s
child. “Hurry, now. I will see you soon.”
Even as Addax was facing the reality of the night with his father, Essien was watching it all
carefully. His mother was worried, his father was being brave, Addax was focused on the blade
in his hand, but Essien was simply drawing it all in. He still felt fear, but there was trust there,
also. He trusted his father and his mother. Trust in the servants who were dressing him in smelly,
unfamiliar clothing. The idea that this was a permanent situation had never occurred to him
because he’d never known anything other than the Lankara Palace. To Essien, this was just some
big adventure. He never thought he wouldn’t return. As the servants began dressing Addax,
Essien went to his father.
“Will you come?” he asked.
Amare smiled at his youngest boy who so favored his mother. “Soon,” he said. “I will come
soon.”
“When?”
There was no time for a child’s questions. Amare kissed his boy on the forehead. “Jab tak
ham dubarah nihen malin ge,” he whispered. “Until we meet again.”
And that was the last Essien saw of his father.
On that dark, terrible night, Essien, his mother, brother, and sister, along with several loyal
servants, fled, out to sea.
But all did not go well.
A storm on the second night at sea pushed their convoy of three ships off course and into a
gulf, where they were forced to dock at the city of Abu Samra. That was when the captain, who
had been loyal to Amare for years and had established trade routes for him, decided to demand
favors from Kiya. He’d never had a queen before, he’d said, something that confused Addax and
Essien, but they knew instinctively that it wasn’t good. When Kiya refused, he struck her. That
was when Addax rammed the dragon-headed dagger into the man’s kidney. Protect your mother,
his father had said. So, he did.
After that, it was chaos.
Kiya and her children fled with her servants onto the streets of Abu Samra, but they became
separated in the chaos. Dust and wind and terror swirled about them, and the group fractured
further. The two old women, Bobo and Rami, fell afoul of a man they’d run into, and he threw
them both into the sea. After hiding out for a day and a night, Addax and Essien searched for
their mother and sister for days and days, until they found an old fisherman who said he’d seen a
screaming woman and her infant daughter taken aboard another ship.
Distraught, the hungry and exhausted boys had no idea what to do when they came across
one of the male servants who had accompanied them, only the man had been in a fight and left to
die in an alley. He told Addax and Essien that, indeed, their mother and sister had been captured
by the crew of the murdered captain and taken back aboard the ship. Now, the ship was gone.
So were their last links to their family.
Two very small boys found themselves alone in a strange land, their mother and sister
vanished. There were no more servants out of the several who came with them, except for the
dying old man. Therefore, Addax and Essien took up vigil next to the old servant, through heat
and cold, night and day, learning to beg for food and receiving a pittance from the mosque in
town. But it was enough to sustain them until the old servant finally passed away six days after
they had found him.
After that, they were on their own.
But not for long.
Abu Samra was a crossroads for trade caravans throughout the region, and one day, when
Addax and Essien went to the mosque to beg for more food, the holy man introduced them to a
merchant who was bringing an enormous caravan from Abu Dhabi and heading for Damascus.
The merchant needed small boys to run errands or complete little tasks, and the holy man made it
seem as if it would be a great, fruitful adventure for Addax and Essien. It was better than begging
in the streets, he said, and God would smile upon those who helped themselves.
So, they went.
Unfortunately, the merchant was not their savior. He enslaved them both, starving them and
beating them, forcing them to tend camels and horses and load and unload merchandise. Addax
was a little older and a little stronger than Essien, who was hardly more than a toddler. But he
was a three-year-old who was forced to grow up very quickly as the hardships of life settled
around them. It was either that or he would die, and neither of them wanted that. They had a
strong will to survive, even in the worst of circumstances.
This went on for two very long years.
Two years of being beaten and abused, of hoping the next day would bring relief or even
someone with some kindness for them. At one point, the merchant, a man by the name of
Abiram, was given a slave girl in Basrah in exchange for goods. She was young, but pretty and
strong, and Abiram used her for labor. She worked alongside Addax and Essien, her nature kind
and joyful in spite of her circumstances. Finally, the two young boys had someone to show them
a measure of kindness and compassion, things they craved at their young age.
Amala was her name.
But Amala’s presence wasn’t to last forever.
Abiram had reached the Levant with his caravan of goods, and he found ready customers in
the men protecting Acre, and other cities, from the onslaught of Christian armies. One night,
Abiram sold Amala to a lord for his harem, and Addax would never forget her soft weeping as
she was taken away. Somehow, Addax knew that he and Essien would not survive much longer.
Abiram was growing crueler, and they were growing weaker. Once they hit the outskirts of
Jerusalem, a vast and populous city, it was Addax who made the decision to run.
It was either run or die.
When Abiram brought the caravan to a halt and ordered the boys to go into town with a
message for a friend of his, they willingly went into the citadel of Jerusalem and lost themselves
on the dusty, ancient streets. Instead of searching for Abiram’s friend on the Street of the
Merchants, they escaped the city walls to the north, running through scrub and rocks, avoiding
scorpions and snakes, rushing toward another village.
It took all night.
Once they arrived, there were very few people on the streets. Everyone seemed to be inside,
even on what should have been a busy morning. Addax and Essien did what they’d learned to do
best—hide in the shadows, trying to remain unseen, being as unobtrusive as possible. They’d
learned that from Abiram, but more so now that they had fled the man. They didn’t want to be
brought back to him. But they were only small boys, after all, and by midmorning, they collapsed
in a grove of olive trees from sheer exhaustion, and Essien fell asleep on his older brother.
But Addax couldn’t sleep.
He had to remain vigilant.
Hollow-eyed, malnourished, and quite possibly as close to death as he’d ever been, Addax
wondered if he would die in this place. He wondered what would become of his brother. Before
Abiram’s caravan, they’d begged for food because they didn’t know what else to do. Now, it
seemed they were to live on the street again, and Addax didn’t relish the thought. He’d once had
plans to find his mother and sister and return to Kitara to fight alongside his father, but all of
those events had happened over two years ago. It seemed like a thousand years had passed. His
father was dead, and so were his mother and sister, more than likely. Although he didn’t want to
believe that, deep down, he knew it was true.
He and Essien were the only ones left.
As Addax pondered what the future would bring, he heard horses in the distance. He was
near the road, but still somewhat protected by the grove of olive trees. Turning his head, he could
see enormous warhorses ridden by men covered with steel coats and great tunics and big, square
buckets of metal on their heads. The tunics they wore were red, with yellow cats on them. There
were so many that he couldn’t see where the line of them ended, all of them heading down the
road and into the village.
Somewhat fearful, Addax tried to move without waking up Essien. His brother would likely
cry at the sight of so many armed, unfamiliar warriors, and that would bring attention to them. If
there was one thing Addax had learned as a young lad, it was how to be quiet. Noise was never a
good thing. But he couldn’t move enough, knowing he could be seen from the road.
And he was.
By dogs.
Two big gray dogs found him, licking his face furiously, wagging their tails, and evidently
quite happy to see him. Even the dogs had steel on them, around their necks, and Addax was
absolutely terrified. The dogs were very big, but thankfully friendly, and they licked Essien, too,
who awoke to a giant dog head in his field of vision that was larger than his own head. He
opened his mouth to scream, but Addax slapped a hand over his lips so the sound would go no
further.
Then someone was yelling for the dogs. The dogs heard their names, but they were so happy
that they’d found new people that they refused to leave the boys. In fact, one dog lay across
Essien, and the other sat down next to Addax. It didn’t seem to matter that someone was calling
for them. They’d found something and they were proud of it. As Addax watched in terror, one of
the heavily armed men on the road moved into the olive grove and dismounted.
He was heading straight for them.
“Argos!” the man boomed. “Artemis! Did you not hear me, you foolish animals?”
Addax had no idea what the man was saying. He didn’t understand the language. But he was
absolutely petrified as he clutched Essien, watching the big warrior approach. The man saw them
fairly quickly, realizing his dogs had found the pair. He slowed down, pausing a moment before
removing his helm. He had hair the color of gold and a beard of nearly the same color around his
jaw.
Addax had never seen hair that color in his life.
“Aap kaun hain?” the man asked, not unkindly.
Who are you? Addax recognized the language because he’d spent enough time in these lands
to understand, and speak, a little of it. But he was so frightened, and so hungry and exhausted,
that he started to weep.
“Addax,” he said. “Ana Addax.”
I am Addax.
The warrior looked him over. He pointed to Essien questioningly, and Addax told the man his
name. But that didn’t seem to satisfy him. He didn’t go away. He tried to get the dogs to come
away, but they wouldn’t. He finally gave up and crouched down a few feet away from them,
even as other warriors saw what he was doing and reined their horses to a halt.
But the man’s focus was on Addax.
“Do you understand me?” he asked in the language of the land.
Addax nodded. “Aye.”
“Are you injured?”
Addax shook his head. “Nay.”
“But you have bruises and blood on you.”
Addax didn’t know how to answer that. He was terrified to tell him the truth, so he made up
something. Anything. “We… we are traveling.”
“Where are you going?”
“I do not know.”
The crouching warrior was joined by two more of the biggest men Addax had ever seen. One
had the same gold hair, but the other man had black hair and blue eyes. They all had blue eyes.
Addax had never seen that shade before, nor skin tone that color. It was quite pale.
“Where are your parents?” the crouching man asked. “Where do you belong?”
Addax shook his head. “We belong to no one,” he said. “Please… will you let us go?”
The other blond warrior walked around the tree trunk, coming up on their other side. He, too,
crouched down, closer to Essien. He spoke to the other man in a language Addax didn’t
understand.
“They’ve been beaten, Chris,” he said quietly. “Starved, too, from the looks of it.”
The man called Chris, the one with the blond beard, nodded. “I can see that,” he said. “And
they’re clearly terrified. They are probably running from whoever did this. Why else would they
be sleeping in an olive grove?”
The second blond man merely nodded and stood up. “We have some provisions we can give
them,” he said. “But we need to be on our way. Richard is expecting us.”
The man called Chris stood up, too, but he was gazing down at the frightened boys. After a
moment, he looked at the black-haired man standing next to him.
“Something tells me not to leave them here,” he said.
The man with the dark hair frowned. “Why?”
“I do not know. It is a feeling I have.” The man called Chris paused, looking indecisively at
the boys huddling fearfully against the tree. “Those are very little boys who probably will not see
another sunrise if they are not given food and help.”
The man with the dark hair rolled his eyes. “So you come all this way to kill Muslims, yet
you want to save these two?” he asked incredulously. “We do not have time for this. Give them
some bread and let us be on our way.”
With that, he turned and walked away, but the man called Chris didn’t leave with him. In
fact, he called after him.
“Mayhap God will be more willing to forgive me for the Muslims I’ve killed if I help two
small children,” he said loudly. But his focus returned to Addax and Essien. He’d made up his
mind. He was going to help. “I cannot leave them here to die. David, pick up the one closest to
you. I’ll take the bigger one.”
The other blond man looked confused. “And do what with them?” he said. “We bring them
along like baggage?”
The man named Chris pointed to the dogs, still lying with the boys. “We bring them along
like the dogs,” he said. “Mayhap I will put them to work for us. In any case, I will not leave
them. Pick up the smaller boy.”
With a shrug, the other blond man dutifully reached down and picked up Essien, who
screamed at being separated from his brother, but the man called Chris held up a hand to him.
“Hadi, hadi,” he said quickly. Quiet, quiet. “Sawf ’usaeiduk.”
I will help you.
That shut Essien up somewhat, but he was still crying. Addax found himself heaved up by
the big blond man with the beard, being carried toward the warhorses that were tethered at the
side of the road. No sooner were they put upon them than the warriors, men from a faraway land
who spoke a strange language, were giving them water and stale bread.
But neither boy cared.
They wolfed it down.
Little did either one of them know that the food represented hope, and the Christian knights
represented destiny. Hope and destiny came to Addax and Essien that day.
And they embraced it. ...
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