Everand Logo

Welcome to Everand!

  • Discover millions of ebooks, audiobooks, and so much more with a free trial

    Only $9.99/month after trial. Cancel anytime.

    A Debt To Pay: A Savaad Chronicles Adventure
    A Debt To Pay: A Savaad Chronicles Adventure
    A Debt To Pay: A Savaad Chronicles Adventure
    Ebook251 pages3 hours

    A Debt To Pay: A Savaad Chronicles Adventure

    By Milton Davis

    ()

    Read preview

    About this ebook

    Samaat and Vel are brothers, but they have never been fond of each other. A mutual discretion forces them to leave their home of Sivadu to partake on a months long journey neither of them look forward to. But it is during this excursion to discover the secrets of their family origins that they find a bond that might bring them closer . . . or push them further apart.

    A Debt To Pay takes place in an alternate North America where Native Americans, exiled Europeans and adventures Africans forge a world of Steamfunk and Sword and Soul. It's an adventure like you've never imagined!

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherMVmedia, LLC
    Release dateOct 19, 2020
    ISBN9781393975236
    A Debt To Pay: A Savaad Chronicles Adventure

    Read more from Milton Davis

    Related to A Debt To Pay

    Related ebooks

    Action & Adventure Fiction For You

    View More
    View More

    Related podcast episodes

    Related articles

    • Article

      Autumnal Adrenaline

      Sep 17, 2020

      Autumnal Adrenaline
      5 min read

    • Article

      Stop Hating on Adjectives!

      Jun 12, 2019

      A common admonition in creative writing pedagogy is, “Cut as many adjectives as possible.” I propose that this rule springs from mere prejudice. The post Stop Hating on Adjectives! appeared first on The Millions.

      7 min read

    • Article

      Skein Is land

      Nov 6, 2019

      Skein Is land
      6 min read

    • Article

      Hook, Line And Sinker

      Oct 18, 2018

      Hook, Line And Sinker
      4 min read

    • Article

      Rock Hard

      Sep 10, 2020

      Rock Hard
      7 min read

    • Article

      A bloody Long Run

      Nov 28, 2022

      A bloody Long Run
      15 min read

    • Article

      Woodland

      Mar 4, 2019

      Woodland
      11 min read

    • Article

      The Best Tonic There Is

      Oct 7, 2020

      The Best Tonic There Is
      4 min read

    • Article

      A Watery Graveyard Revisited

      Apr 27, 2023

      A Watery Graveyard Revisited
      2 min read

    • Article

      The Stiperstones

      Jan 26, 2024

      The Stiperstones
      3 min read

    • Article

      The Call Of The Wild

      Nov 30, 2020

      The Call Of The Wild
      2 min read

    • Article

      To the Future

      Jun 1, 2019

      High up on the south face of Tskinias, off to the rightRunning down the meadow at the foot of the last screeIs a dry stone wall. Roughly, the shape it makesOn the green is like a wavering freehand hWith a tail like a c, its two ends almost closing.

      1 min read

    • Article

      HINTERLAND & HAMLETS

      Jul 31, 2019

      HINTERLAND & HAMLETS
      6 min read

    • Article

      Emu Dreaming

      Jan 30, 2018

      Emu Dreaming
      7 min read

    • Article

      Commonplace Book

      Sep 1, 2020

      We should build parks that students from afar Would choose to starve in, rather than go home … We must have many Lincoln-hearted men. —Vachel Lindsay, “On the Building of Springfield,” 1912 When the researchers posed as pedestrians waiting to cross

      3 min read

    • Article

      Topos. Graphein.

      Sep 27, 2021

      Topos. Graphein.
      6 min read

    • Article

      Guiding Lights

      Mar 21, 2022

      Guiding Lights
      5 min read

    • Article

      Magnets: Carried through time, lovers seek their purpose.

      Feb 6, 2014

      Moon Colony B, 2213 Former Ponzi-schemer Mary Pillar digs through a trashcan. It smells like rotten eggs and milk. She is elderly and homeless, living in an alley between two eco-efficient skyscrapers. Dust particles dance around her. She has lost ev

      11 min read

    • Article

      Northernmost

      Dec 28, 2021

      Northernmost
      8 min read

    • Article

      Nothing Prepares You For The Impact Of Africa.

      Jun 30, 2021

      Strange sights, new sounds, unfamiliar smells. It is a total assault on the senses, like being a child again and seeing the world afresh. Once you have been there, breathed its dry air, watched distant storms trailing across its immense horizons and

      5 min read

    • Article

      Commonplace Book

      Dec 1, 2022

      Nothing is as important to our ability to survive as our ability to hurt. -Haider Warraich, The Song of Our Scars, 2022 In seed time learn, in harvest teach, in winter enjoy. Drive your cart and your plow over the bones of the dead. -William Blake, T

      4 min read

    • Article

      The Final Landscape

      Apr 5, 2023

      The Final Landscape
      6 min read

    • Article

      Edge Of The World

      Jan 30, 2018

      Edge Of The World
      8 min read

    Related categories

    Reviews for A Debt To Pay

    0 ratings

    0 ratings0 reviews

    What did you think?

    Tap to rate

    Review must be at least 10 words

      Book preview

      A Debt To Pay - Milton Davis

      A Debt To Pay

      Milton J Davis

      MVmedia, LLC

      Fayetteville, Georgia

      COPYRIGHT © 2012 BY MVmedia, LLC.

      All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed Attention: Permissions Coordinator, at the address below.

      MVmedia, LLC

      PO Box 143052

      Fayetteville, GA 30215

      www.mvmediaatl.com

      Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

      Book Layout ©2017 BookDesignTemplates.com

      Cover Art by Stanley Weaver Jr.

      Cover Design by Uraeus

      Ordering Information:

      Quantity sales. Special discounts are available on quantity purchases by corporations, associations, and others. For details, contact the Special Sales Department at the address above.

      A Debt To Pay/Milton Davis.—1st ed.

      ISBN 978-1-7346279-3-0

      Contents

      The Beginning

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

      Chapter Three

      Chapter Four

      Chapter Five

      Chapter Six

      Chapter Seven

      Chapter Eight

      Chapter Nine

      Chapter Ten

      Chapter Eleven

      Chapter Twelve

      Chapter Thirteen

      Chapter Fourteen

      Chapter Fifteen

      Chapter Sixteen

      Chapter Seventeen

      To Charles R. Saunders. Sword and Soul Forever!

      We were One. Now we are Three. We will be One again.

      ―The Nayamka Scrolls

      The Beginning

      We were one; now we are three. We were once called Nayamka, most favored of Saul, masters of the Bright Country. Our cities gleamed golden across the grasslands; our people beautiful, wise and great warriors with no equal. Saul granted us all under his Eye and we ruled with wisdom and grace.

      But like all children we strayed. Those who once obeyed rebelled We prayed to Saul but were not heard. We fled to the edge of the World and sent our seed to the West upon the Endless Ocean in hopes they would find refuge in another land.

      Three ships set sail, united by blood, separated by custom. The Numu, warriors and masters of steel, sailed at the lead to protect. The Jele, masters of word and spells, sailed second to speak. The Garanke, masters of leather and spirits, sailed last to assist. Saul’s wrath followed, summoning his Breath to scatter us on an angry sea.

      In the new land we became three. The Numu conquered with war and steel, the Jele with words and spells, the Garanke with assistance and kindness. We were One, now we are Three. We will be One again.

      A picture containing motorcycle, riding, people, person Description automatically generated

      Chapter One

      Spring arrived early in Pine Valley, the natural terminus of the Appalachian Mountains and the southernmost region of the Echota realm. Welcomed warmth appeared with lengthening sunlight, challenging the short, dreary winter days of cold rain and sparse snow. By early March warm days dominated, but the price to pay was long squall lines driving damaging winds and fierce lightning before them as winter took its last gasp.  The three men riding the narrow road slicing through the bare white oaks into the Cavern Hills were very familiar with the season’s capriciousness; they had lived in the Valley all their lives. They knew the broad grey line of clouds streaking above them were harbingers of violent weather.

      The eldest of the three swayed atop a red mule with drooping ears. A smattering of grey hair spread across his pale head; his face long, his eyes red and gaunt. He looked back at his younger companions and forced a smile on his face. The Yamasee tribesman was not used to guiding interlopers onto sacred land. But these days money was more important than tradition and these men offered a fortune. Marcus Pellan, the young Dinke on the roan mare, smiled back, dimpling his chubby coffee hued face. The other man managed a slight grin barely visible under the shadow of his hood. For Samaat Savaad, it was an expression of joy. It was he who paid generously for this expedition. The old farmer could be leading him to what might be a significant clue to his quest to find items of untold importance.

      A skinny path branched from the road then snaked up the steep hill which held their destination. The three dismounted and led the animals up the wooded slope. The summit was as bare as the guide’s head, the white oaks, long-leaf pines, and dogwoods that once graced it harvested long ago. The farmer directed the others across the clearing to a jagged hole rimmed with fescue and wiregrass.

      This is it, the old man croaked.

      Samaat peered down into the abyss but saw nothing. Caves were common in this land where a thin layer of soil covered porous limestone. He stepped away from the opening, folding his thick arms across his massive chest. Standing six foot five with the body of a bull, his physical appearance was formidable enough. Add his mastery of spells and he was a man to be feared.

      Are you sure this is the right cave? he asked.

      "I’m positive, mansari, the farmer replied. I will never forget this place. I pulled my son’s body from that cursed hole. This is the one."

      I’m sorry. I had to be sure. Samaat  reached into his cloak and extracted a leather bag. He tossed it to the farmer.

      Ten silvers as promised. The farmer’s eyes glistened.

      "Thank you, mansari! Thank you! Sol’s blessings be upon you!"

      The farmer touched his head to the ground, scrambled onto his mule and careened down the hillside. Marcus Pellan took the farmer’s place beside Samaat.

      You just made that man wealthy, at least for a Maracan, he said.

      If what I’m looking for lies in this cave I didn’t pay him enough. Get the rope.

      Marcus strode to his mare and returned with the rope. He tied one end around a thick white oak standing at the summit’s edge then let it out as he returned to the hole.

      You believe the Scrolls are down there?

      Samaat took the rope and dropped the loose end into the hole.

      "The Lantus maps show this area as the grounds of an ancient university. It is said the Nayamka Scrolls were kept in an underground chamber below the university. Only high garanke were allowed access to the vaults. They could only take what they remembered for the caretakers would not allow the Scrolls to be removed, nor would they permit copies to be written."

      The rope hung tight. Samaat  grimaced and pulled the rope back up.

      It’s deeper that the farmer said.

      Marcus looked skeptical. Could the old man be lying? I would for that much money.

      Samaat  shrugged. It’s possible, but the evidence points to this general area. We need more rope.

      By the time Marcus trotted back to the horses and returned with the rope Samaat  had retrieved the end of the first rope. He tied the sections together and threw the rope back into the hole. This time the line showed slack. Samaat smiled and picked up a torch. He lit it and dropped it into the hole.

      Let’s go, he said.

      Marcus held up his hand. ‘I’ll go first, mansari."

      That’s not necessary, Marcus. You know I don’t enforce protocol.

      You don’t, but Naheem does. If anything happens to you while you’re under my protection I might as well jump into this hole without the rope. The sudden stop would be more merciful than Naheem.

      Marcus grinned before grasping the rope and plunging into the cave. Once he reached the bottom he tugged on the rope and Samaat followed. The air grew colder as he descended, the surface light fading the further down he progressed. Torchlight usurped sunlight as he neared the bottom. He was relieved when his feet touched the ground. Marcus stood by with the torch.

      Samaat took a torch from his pack and lit it with Marcus’s flame. He immediately walked about the cave, illuminating it as best he could.

      This is no natural hollow, he concluded.

      He inched his way to his left, counting his steps until his outstretched hand touched the wall. The torchlight revealed a featureless smooth brown surface. He brushed the surface and the dust gave way, revealing the image of a regal bare-chested brown man dressed in a brilliant kente kilt, his hand adorned with golden rings, his wrists wrapped in gold bracelets, a gold band encircling his head. Samaat  swept his hand wider, uncovering more of the mural, the joy growing with every moment.

      This is it, Marcus! he exclaimed. We’re in the atrium of the Archives!

      Marcus ran to his side. By the ancestors!

      Come, Samaat urged The Scrolls should be nearby.

      They followed the wall, the roof sinking until it loomed a few feet above them over a brick rimmed passageway. They entered and were greeted by terra cotta warrior statues lined against the walls, grim-faced men holding leaf shields and broad-bladed spears. Samaat longed to stop and examine each one, but there was no time. Their presence in Marac was illegal; if they were discovered a conflict could result. He was here for evidence and nothing more.

      The passageway ended, opening into another room. Samaat  stepped inside then raised his torch. Shelves of scrolls appeared before him, climbing the walls and extending into the darkness.

      The Nayamka Scrolls! he gasped.

      He rushed into the crypt like a boy, running his hands across the countless scroll handles extending from the shelves. The tattoos along his arms began to glow, a sign that he was near what he sought. The light became almost unbearable as he stopped before one particular scroll resting on a shelf at eye level. Samaat pulled the scroll free and the light receded.

      This is the one, he whispered.

      Marcus grabbed Samaat ’s arm and pulled him away from the entrance, dousing his torch as he did so.

      "Mansari, listen!" he whispered.

      Samaat heard angry voices drifting from the passageway.

      Why must I lead you? I showed you the entrance.

      It was the voice of the old Yamasee.

      Shut up, old man! They’ll hear us!

      Samaat closed his eyes and concentrated on the approaching foot falls. He braced himself, his legs coiled like snakes, his fingers flexing.

      The footsteps ceased.

      I’m not going in there!

      Get on, damn it!

      There was a thud and the farmer lurched past them and collided into the shelves. Samaat  sprang into the entrance. He slammed his hand into the culprit’s throat, lifting the startled man off his feet then smashed his head into the ceiling. Samaat pitched the unconscious man aside as the other man reached for his sword. Samaat pinned his hand to his hilt and rammed his elbow into the man’s face. The third ran into the darkness, yelling at the top of his lungs. Samaat could not catch him; he snatched up a torch and ran back into the archives. He knelt by the farmer; the man was dead, his neck broken by the impact into the shelves. Marcus grabbed his arm and dragged him to his feet.

      "Mansari, more are coming!"

      Samaat hesitated. He was a Savaad and not prone to run from a fight. But this was a fight that could possibly start a war. Samaat and Marcus fled through the archives not knowing where they led. They passed through a series of passageways and rooms, their pursuers relentless. They entered a corridor that extended farther than the others, climbing upward. The angry voices behind them gave way to chanting voices before them. The passageway revealed its surprise suddenly, a solid wall where an opening should be. Samaat yelled and lowered his shoulder. The wall exploded upon impact and Samaat tumbled into the midst of a Maracan temple ceremony. Scantily clad dancers scattered and bare chested priests backed away from the huge, plaster covered interloper and his stunned companion. The duo kept running, finally finding their way out of the temple and into harsh sunlight.

      Samaat saw the mounted Maracan temple guards before they saw him. He bounded down the temple steps and leapt into the air, knocking the closest rider from his mount with his bulk. The other guardsman was so startled he never noticed Marcus working his way around. The man was flying from his horse and striking the ground before he realized he was being attacked.

      Where are we? Samaat barked.

      Tusin, a village near the border, Marcus replied. Follow me!

      They fled out of the village and into the safety of the surrounding pines. A true smile emerged on Samaat ’s face. He’d found what he was looking for. The Nayamka Scrolls were his.

      Chapter Two

      Vel Savaad struggled against the silk scarves securing his wrists and ankles but they held fast. Madeline watched him, a cruel smile on her comely face. Moments ago he slept soundly, exhausted from a vigorous night with the lovely woman. He awoke tied to the posts of the rice bed, Madeline straddling him as she finished the last knot securing his right wrist. At first he though she was initiating a new twist to their love play, but the look on her face conveyed a different intention.

      What the hell is going on, Mattie?

      Madeline stood, giving him a glimpse of her nakedness as her robe briefly parted. Despite his predicament Vel felt a rush in his loins. He remembered the smooth touch of her dark brown skin and the taste of her full lips. Madeline noticed his excitement. She frowned and threw a blanket over him.

      Sol! Don’t you think of anything else?

      She secured her robe as she sauntered across the room then looked out the window into the Highland streets.

      He’s late, she muttered.

      This isn’t funny, Mattie. Let me go.

      I don’t think so, lover. I have you in more ways than one.

      She sat on the end of the bed and stroked his foot.

      Do you know how many women would pay to be where I am? You have no idea how women talk about you, the handsome Velesoor Savaad, the dashing common lord, the brave Goldcrossman. There is not a woman, married or maiden, that wouldn’t forsake her marriage or virtue to experience your talents.

      They would all be disappointed. Vel replied. My endowments are only for you.

      Madeline laughed. I’m not a fool, Vel. You’re as elusive as a bush squirrel. But I have you now.

      It was the second time she made that statement. He watched her go to the window again.

      Expecting someone?

      Yes I am. My husband.

      Vel stiffened. He jerked at the scarves. Let me go, damn it!

      I will eventually, Madeline answered. You have one more duty to perform.

      Vel jerked his legs and arms frantically. He’ll kill us both!

      Madeline grinned. You won’t let him. I’ll release you when I know he’s here. He’ll catch us and you’ll defend yourself. My husband is very jealous. He won’t stop until he kills you or you kill him. Either way, my freedom is certain and my future is secure.

      Vel stopped struggling. He was so angry his vision blurred.

      What makes you think I can kill him?

      Madeline looked at his loins as she answered.

      "That’s not the only sword you’re skilled with. Everyone knows of your duels. You’ve never killed a challenger before, but you’ve never fought my husband.  He will not concede, especially where his reputation is at stake. It’s all he has, poor boy. To suffer the indignity of a haja losing his wife to a nahaja would break the weak link in his feeble chain."

      Madeline looked out the window and smiled.

      Ah, he’s here. Perfect!

      Vel glared at Madeline as she untied the scarves. He doesn’t know we’re here yet. The message told him he could find me here. He doesn’t know about you, but he will.

      Vel waited until Madeline untied the last scarf. He sprang, grabbing her neck and pushing her against the wall. Madeline’s composure broke; she tried to scream but Vel tightened his grip.

      If you were a man I’d break you neck! he snarled. He flung her onto the bed and dressed quickly. He was buckling his sword belt when the sound of footfalls on stairs reached his ears. Vel went to the window. He was two stories high.

      No! Madeline screamed.

      Vel snarled and jumped. His feet touched the ground and he collapsed, rolling over the cobblestone then springing to his feet. He dashed across the street to the nearest alley.

      He’s in the alley! a voice shouted.

      I’ll kill the bastard! There was no mistaking the gravelly voice of Haja Crim. Vel jumped on the first horse he saw then galloped out of the Red District to the North Road. He stayed on the road for two hours before plunging into the pines. Crim would search the city for him first before travelling to Savaadu to demand satisfaction. There was a time he was sure Naheem would refuse the haja’s request but those days had passed. He headed to the family hunting lodge; from there he would send a message by homing hound directly to

      Enjoying the preview?
      Page 1 of 1