{Excerpt+Giveaway} Seekers: The Winds of Change by Troy Knowlton

CHAPTER 2
THE IMPORTANT THINGS
Smoke mixed with earthy sand assaulted Tyras’s nostrils
as he gathered himself up from the desert floor. He took a moment to dust off some of the grains from his blue coat before scaling the massive dune that loomed over him. Burning fatigue throbbed through his legs as he scampered along the rough, shifting hill’s slope. It wouldn’t be long before the Koterrans began searching for him, so time was of the essence.
Squall had better be ready to leave; those knights seemed to have an unnatural tenacity, especially their leader, Tyras thought as he climbed. After what seemed like forever, the Seeker reached the top of the dune. There he saw the grizzled bomb maker standing in a proud pose, one foot resting on the base of his giant cannon. The flickering of his pipe embers illuminated his age-stained face in the darkness. The older man’s expression exuded more warmth than the pipe ever could, with a proud smile that lifted wrinkles in the epicanthic folds of his wise, distinguishably Savarian eyes.

“I think you might have overdone it, Squall,” Tyras said as he wiped more of the caked sand and mud off his cloak.
Squall’s leathery forehead wrinkled with confusion as he stared at the Seeker. “Whatever do you mean, Tyras? I thought the explosion was exquisite! The shock wave knocked everyone down like a swift brushstroke from a masterful painter. You cannot deny that I’m a great artist of explosions, my boy.”
Tyras nodded, both in agreement and respect, half-smiling. I know nobody else can match your talent or your loyalty, my friend. He couldn’t count how many times Squall had remedied a situation by exploding all the right things at all the right times. “Well, master artist, how do you explain the second explosion that acquainted me with the desert floor?” The Seeker mustered all the sarcasm he could into the question.
“Oh, that one is easy,” Squall answered, trying to contain his laughter. “You see, you had made it out of there too clean, not a speck of dust on you. We couldn’t have that now, could we? Think of when you arrive home in Arga. Wouldn’t it be better if you appear battered and bruised? You’re a great adventurer and servant of your empire; you must always look the part. It’s to make it seem as though your mission was grand and dangerous. Your peers will praise you to no end, women will swoon, and men will stare with admiration and envy. They’ll wonder how you managed to come back alive!” The older man raised his raspy voice before continuing. “And you would say: ‘Twas with the aid of a handsome Savarian god of explosives!” The older man waved his fist in the air as he shouted. “Well? Are you convinced? I, for one, think it would make for a far better story.” Squall couldn’t hold back his laughter anymore. He bent over his cannon, chuckling until spit ran down his unshaven cheeks.

Tyras’s eyes twitched with impatience. “I would rather return home comfortable and clean, forget the stories. You make it seem like all I care about is what people think of me. Enough with the chit chat; we need to leave! Come on, I’ll help you load Shizuka.”
Squall obliged, and the pair grappled with the cannon, turning it around to face the other side of the dune. With a few powerful thrusts, they drove it up a ramp attached to the back side of Squall’s wagon. The weighty, boxed vehicle gleamed, an impressive work of Savarian craftsmanship. Ornate etched designs adorned the dark oak of the frame. Fastened to the vehicle’s yoke stood four hulking, muscular horses with ebony manes: Savarian stallions, some of the fastest horses in all of Tiarna. Tyras trusted few, but he counted on those horses. How many times have they spirited us out of harm’s way? the Seeker thought, glancing up at them.
After the pair retracted the ramp, they hurried to the vehicle’s front. Nimble Tyras leapt into the passenger seat with graceful ease as the old, weary Squall hobbled his way up into the driver’s seat. With the both of them situated, Squall shouted a command in Savarian and the horses dashed forward, propelling the wagon into the windy desert night.
Not long after the ride started, the banter resumed, with even more vigor than before. Tyras was first. “You just wanted to scare the hell out of me with that blast, didn’t you? There was no ulterior motive to your foolery. It wasn’t an attempt to embellish our story; I think it was much simpler than that. You wanted to have some fun and watch the shock wave send me flying like a lame goose. Did you get a good laugh?”
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