Star of Night (Kindle and ePub)

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Book 2 in the epic quest across the sands of Arabia

In the exotic lands of the east, a secret sect of Persian magicians study the night sky for generations.
When the stars announce a strange royal birth, Misha, a first-level mage, is ready to prove himself by chasing down this new world leader.
But then an ancient document surfaces, whispering of an artifact of immense power.
The temptation to seize power is too great to resist.
And Misha is not alone in his quest.
The king’s general Reza seeks power to fulfill his mysterious destiny, and both he and Misha have their eye set on the Egyptian princess Kamillah, who will do anything to gain the artifact that could break her bondage to the sorcerer Zahir.
The soldier, the mage and the princess each has a secret to protect.
But if they are going to survive the dark forces warring for their prize, they must learn to trust each other—in what will surely be the journey of a lifetime.

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“This second installment of The Incense Road kept me on the edge of my seat! I loved getting to know these characters better. The spiritual warfare was powerfully and beautifully written.”

“Tracy's an incredible wordsmith, drawing the reader into the time period and you feel you know the characters personally.”

“The concept of writing the story of the magi who traveled to greet the new-born savior is an intriguing one, and I wasn't disappointed. I hang on every word Tracy Higley writes.”

“I raced right through this book & couldn't wait to start the next one!”

“Tracy excellently captures the reader and colorfully paints the scene. She intrigues and grabs the reader's attention and sets the stage for a cosmic confrontation of good vs. evil.”

Enjoy a sample from Star of Night

CHAPTER ONE

REZA

In the twelve days since we left Yathrib, I lost sight of who I was, as a man and as a general. 

Perhaps our stop in the city of Petra would help me regain my focus.

But my men had other ideas of what a few days in Petra could mean.

We pushed through the Siq—that narrow, rock-cut channel into a city so well protected by rosy cliffs that a caravan could pass it by without ever knowing of its existence—into the pleasantly cool shade of Petra’s bustling market. The cliffs soared on all sides, giving one the impression that this massive oasis in the center was all that existed. But I had passed this way before and knew that around that bend to the west lay the rest of the carved city, awaiting my men with more distractions than the market’s smoked meats and silk fabrics.

“Fahim,” I yelled a sharp rebuke to the young soldier, who had swatted the backside of a less-than-respectable girl swinging past him. 

Fahim only laughed, a sure sign that my men believed themselves on holiday now and not subject to the command of their general. 

My pulse thumped at his casual response. Indiscretion, this far into our journey, could mean disaster. 

A slap on my back made me whirl in anger at the soldier who had taken too much liberty.

Misha held up two palms, mock fear on his face. “Whoa, General, I’m not the advancing Romans.”

“Good thing, then.” I jutted my chin toward my men. “They’d probably welcome you in and buy you a meal.”

Misha grinned. “This city didn’t become the crossroads of the trading routes for nothing, Reza.” He scanned the cliffs, lingering on the immense yet intricate carving against the west wall behind us. 

Like the façade of a many-cultured temple, the gods of numerous peoples had been carved into the rock face atop columns, pediments, and niches. It was a wonder, truly, with more wonders to come in the city itself. But Misha spoke of the city’s defenses, not its architecture. 

“No raiders. No armies, Reza. Take a few days to rest. We’ve all earned it after these hundreds of dusty miles.”

“I’ll rest when we are back in Nisa with all of the Nehushtan.”

Misha’s grin faded and he nodded once. “In this we are brothers.”

There were a thousand reasons why defying Zahir was foolish. But in truth, our resolve had only hardened on the trek northward from Yathrib to Petra. The Nehushtan, that ancient artifact of Misha’s people that his forefather Moses had raised in the sands outside Egypt to heal the people of Israel, would serve us both in Nisa. Misha would see his lovely mother healed of the sickness that had weakened her for months. 

And I would see my destiny revealed. 

Kamillah approached, an equal smile for both of us, as always.

“Just like a woman.” Misha pointed to her pouch. “Wasting no time in shopping.” 

Her eyes darkened in response.

I took a step forward. “What have you purchased?” I spoke quickly, whether to distract her from Misha’s comment or from Misha himself, I could not say.

Her fingers brushed the pouch and she smiled slightly. “Some perfumes.” 

Misha’s ever-present grin returned at the answer, but he was wise enough to keep silent.

In that silence, the shout of Walid, a newly ranked soldier under my command, rang out nearby.

We turned, all three, to his hailing of me. 

“We have found the gift for you, General!” He stood at the table of a fabric merchant and held something aloft in two meaty fingers. “This will serve you well very soon, eh?”” He wriggled the silk, a royal purple that glistened in the sunlight, then flung it around his shoulders like a robe.

Around him, a few other soldiers guffawed, then bowed in sham obeisance.

I stalked to the cluster of idiots and yanked the fabric from Walid’s shoulders. “What do you think you are doing?”

Walid’s cheeks paled, though he tried to maintain his humor. “Just a bit of fun—”

“Do you think your jest is subtle?” I swung an arm to the rest of the market. “That no other fool will catch its meaning?””

I wadded up the fabric and threw it at the old merchant, whose rheumy eyes betrayed surprise and not a little annoyance. “Forgive my men, sir.” I fished out a few coins for the man’s trouble. “They have been too long in the company of only each other.”

He pocketed the coins with a gummy smile.

I growled at Walid. “Find something useful to do with yourself.”

Zahir sauntered over. “Your men are a bit rowdy already, General, with only a half-day’s holiday behind them. Perhaps a sign they are kept on too tight a leash, yes?”

The anger at my loud-mouthed soldiers turned to something else under Zahir’s rebuke. I led him away from the merchant’s table. Misha and Kamillah followed. “On the contrary, Zahir. It is this leave of duty that is the problem. They require a firm hand to be in control at all times.”

Zahir’s half smirk said more than words.

I jabbed a thumb toward the city around the cliff bend. “How long do you expect to remain here doing nothing? We are wasting time.”

Misha slid between the two of us. “Inactivity is not your strength, Reza, we know. But we are not ‘doing nothing’ as you say.”” He lowered his voice. “Besides the necessary trading that our caravan came for, we hope to find valuable information here in Petra.”

“Well, we should make it quick and get back to the discipline of the road.”

Zahir squinted at the marketplace. “I have been asking a few discreet questions and will continue to do so. If there is information, it passes through this city with the rest of the world’s goods.” He turned on me and pointed to the cliff above our heads. “Perhaps you can quiet your restless spirit with a climb to the High Place of Sacrifice.”

With that he slipped away, thankfully, or I might have removed that smirk. 

Twelve days on the road was turning me into a thug, too. Or perhaps it was only this one day of uselessness. 

Kamillah touched my elbow. “Why don’t we move into the city, find lodging.” Her glance took in Misha, making the suggestion less personal. ““Leave your men to their fun. They’ll be grateful to see you disappear.” 

A cluster of traders pushed past, none of them our own men, and one of them jostled Kamillah as he passed. 

She stepped aside, but clearly the collision had been intentional.

“Look here, friends.” The trader motioned to his fellows. “The finest piece of luxury the market has shown us yet.”

I cleared my throat, signaling them to be on their way.

But the fool was too lost in himself. He started to circle Kamillah, eyeing her up and down. “And what does something so fine sell for in Petra these days?”

Kamillah flushed and opened her mouth, no doubt to cut the man into small bits with her verbal skills.

I did not give her the chance. My sword slid from my belt with a smooth whoosh and its point tickled the trader’s throat before he had blinked twice.

He pulled his head backward, eyes wider than double moons.

“Trust me, friend. You could not afford her.”

He raised a hand and backed away. “Not looking for trouble, my lord. Just having a bit of fun.”

“Have your fun elsewhere, before I cut it short.”

One of his friends grabbed his arm and yanked him from my threat, and the group trotted off toward the city.

Kamillah sighed. “You did not need—”

But Misha was leaning in, watching my eyes. “I have never seen you react to a minor insult with a drawn sword, Reza. What is going on?”

I wished I knew. 

The days on this journey, trying to keep my men quiet while I examined my father’s plan for me from every possible angle, had not made me more circumspect. If anything, I felt myself becoming a tyrant long before I would become a king.

I returned my sword to my belt and wiped the back of my arm across my forehead. “I need rest. That is all.”

But apparently, rest was not to be had. Not yet. Across the market, between a table of pomegranates and peaches and another of potatoes and onions, a knot of my men had started brawling.

“Soldiers!” Once again I stalked across the sand to chastise them like errant boys playing in the streets.

“Tell him, General.” A seasoned soldier who should have known better jutted his chin toward a younger. “Tell him you are not afraid to fight for what is yours.””

I surveyed the group quickly. All of them were part of the faction that knew of my heritage, of what my father expected of me. Expected of them.

Yazid continued. “He says when the time is right, when we return, you will be too weak to make your claim.” 

“Quiet!” I moved to the center of them. Not only were their eyes trained on me, but the eyes of many others as well. “This is not the place. Go find taverns or brothels or beds. You are all half-drunk and fully stupid!” I raised a hand to feign a strike against the nearest of them, and they scattered.

I scanned the marketplace for Zahir. How close had he been when my loose-lipped men had nearly proclaimed me Persian king right here in the Petran marketplace?