The Barren Land
The Shepherd, Book I
A Novel by Jeffrey B. Linn
All Rights Reserved

Chapter VII

I was not given much time to reflect on her words, for mentor nearly toppled her coming up the path.

"Boy! They've organized a sortie!" he shouted. "And we're going!"

With that he rushed me through a breakfast which deserved an hour to savor and at least another helping. Before I knew it we were headed out the great doors of the fortress on horseback. A part of me deeply desired to rest, to sit on my straw heap with more bread and milk and spend my days indolently drinking in the health of that fantastic place. I felt I was being pulled by a team of horses gone mad, with no way to stop them and no way to control where I was going. Without a chance to sort out events I was already headed back out into the wasteland.

In the lead rode the gatekeeper, a young looking man with age in his countenance. Nothing in the decoration of his flowing hemp robe denoted his role of responsibility for the citadel. After him rode a swarthy fellow with tangled black curls dressed in a leather jerkin. I had not had a chance to read his character, and his presence on such a perilous mission made me uneasy. Then came mentor, followed by myself. Behind me rode the prophetess Nebiah, who had rebuked me at the well. She had donned a mantle and sabots for riding. I was still a bit stung from her words, though they held encouragement as well, and these thoughts added to my general sense of ill preparedness. My mount was a good as any I could ask for, responding easily to commands, and was my sole comfort.

A hundred yards from the wall a small stone furnace had been erected beside the road. It seem marooned, and to have no conceivable purpose. While I was pondering this the gatekeeper steadied his horse and addressed us.

"Beyond this marker, mentor and his charge will notice that the land reverts to its desolate state. Elias mentor, here bless this undertaking."

Mentor closed his eyes and said simply, "Spirit of the Shepherd, be in us."

"Today we assault the city of Alazoneia," continued the gatekeeper as his horse reared slightly and chewed the bit. Then he led us out the path beyond the little hearth, and the sky resumed its pallor, the grass and leaves drained of color, and the world took on the silence of a crypt.

Now the bottom fell out of my heart, for the circumstances that had buoyed it had all been stripped away. 'Assault a city, with an army of five?' I wondered. Even the prophecy of the Shepherd was only a dim memory in the face of a return to this terrain that swallowed the soul.

Nebiah kicked her horse up to a trot and came abreast. "Not a good showing first time out," she whispered as she passed. "Buck up." I watched as she fell in behind the gatekeeper. How had she known? Her words had their desired effect; the dread lifted

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