“What of the four Kesh that were ‘sleeping’? Where did you plant them?” Targon said, placing a strong emphasis on the word plant.
“Well, I couldn’t have them sleeping too close to here—the Kesh have spells of finding and crystal balls of seeing—so I made a small raft and put them on it, sending it downriver. Don’t worry, the raft is sturdy enough to carry them over the rapids downriver, and with any luck, they won’t wake up till they reach the sea. So, what do you intend to do now?”
Targon almost laughed at the thought of the four would-be assassins waking up when they reached the sea many miles from where they started their journey. “Well, if what you said is true, then we need to bring the city folk to safety, and my hunting blind isn’t very comfortable nor safe. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you did this for them and not me,” he said while motioning outside toward the forest and trees.
“Very observant, but they will need food as well. I’ve sent out a call for assistance, and hopefully by morning, you will have some food to take to them,” Elister said while retrieving the hot pot and pouring Targon a bit more hot water into his cup. This was quickly followed by some tea leaves, and Targon took another sip, feeling the tea was more than just an herb—it had certain healing properties—but he didn’t want to ask the old man exactly what. He would take what he could get at this point.
“I’ll leave just before dawn and take them some food and lead them back here,” Targon decided.
“Excellent idea! You see, you will make a great Zashitor, after all.”
“What exactly is a Zashitor?” Targon asked.
“Oh, I’m sorry. A great Ranger, Master Targon, you will be a defender of Agon as well as its creatures and inhabitants. One day, you will come to understand what it means to be one of the Zashitor. Alas, it was a few centuries ago since the last of the Zashitor walked upon Agon and guarded their wards. The world has become a much darker and deadlier place without them.”
Targon pondered on this for a moment and understood it was going to take time to learn more of what he was being told. It was a bit too much for him at such an early stage of his life. He decided he’d ask more about this from the old man later. Right now, he had something important to do, and he would focus on saving his fellow Ulathans, city folk or not. “Will you stay here, old . . . I mean, Elister?” Targon asked, using the druid’s name for a change.
“No. I’m afraid I’m not very social, and I’ve neglected some other matters for far too long, but I won’t be far away. I have a serious matter to attend to in the heart of the forest. I’ll leave some things for you and your guests here for when you return, agreed?”
“Sounds fine to me, and is that bear of yours going with you?”
Elister smiled. “Core goes where he wants to go, and I can only ask him or suggest to him a course of action. He has, however, indicated to me that he will accompany you and assist you and your fellow countrymen.”
“Well, if he ever wakes up for good, then I’m sure his help will be much appreciated. It’s getting late. Will you sleep here?”
“No, as I said, I have work to do and little time to do it. I’ll leave some things for you on the table: just don’t forget who you are.”
“I won’t” Targon stated simply, taking off the ugly Kesh boots and moving to the lone bed that his mother sometimes used with Ann to stay warm near the fire. The old man had laid some linen on the wooden bed and prepared a pillow as well. His body ached from sleeping on the ground and his head hurt, but he quickly made his bed and lay down to sleep, holding the Clairton bird carving in his hand while looking at the fire.
He paused for a moment to look over at the old man, who smiled and then walked out the newly repaired front door, closing it from the outside. Targon was alone again, and swiftly sleep took him as he thought of his mother and sister and brother.
Khan was frustrated. For four days, they had been searching for a large group of refugees from Korwell, and he had been camped for over two days on the western bank of the Gregus River in the middle of nowhere. Despite his many attempts to find them, they seemed to have disappeared completely. What was more concerning for him was when he bent his mind and will into the globe of seeing that he possessed, he could see both up and down the river, but as soon as he tried to peer across the river at the forest’s edge, his crystal ball would go black. There was a powerful presence blocking his vision past the river, and this was something he had never encountered before.
Boxer and Gund had returned the previous night with little to report. The southern group, led by Boxer, found no tracks and no place to cross the river. The northern group, led by Gund, found a possible ford not far from their camp where the water ran shallower and quicker over a jumble of rocks, but, with the heavy rains recently, the river was swollen and the crossing was deemed too dangerous to attempt at this time.
Currently, his lieutenants were debating whether to build rafts or simply take the one-day journey north to the old stone bridge that crossed the Gregus and then spend a second day returning along the eastern bank. The issue was that without a way to cross nearby and not knowing what side of the river the refugees were on, his reinforced patrol would be split in two and not be nearly as effective should they encounter resistance.
“Dorsun,” Khan called out from his rocky seat overlooking the brigand camp, “what do you and your leaders think?”
Dorsun was stockier than most of his peers but stood just as tall. He walked over to Khan’s tent and knelt beside him on one knee where he could speak softly without being overheard. “Well, no one seems interested in walking for two days just to get to the other side of this river, and even less seem inclined to enter the Blackthorn Forest. If we have to, I suggest making some crude rafts today and crossing tomorrow. The rain has almost stopped, and I feel certain any tracks left will have been gone by now. Is it really necessary to track down these particular Ulathans?”
Khan had covered his seeing globe with his robe and deftly replaced it back into its pouch as Dorsun spoke. Khan thought for a second. “Am-Ohkre seems obsessed with them for some reason. Perhaps someone from the Korwell family is with them or they have something he wants, but either way, they have now killed a squad of our troopers and seem to be somewhat organized in such a way as to pose a threat to our operations in the area. If they did enter the Earlstyne . . . or Blackthorn, as you refer to it, then we must go there as well despite its reputation.”
“Master Khan,” Dorsun whispered almost too softly to be heard, and Khan had to lean in to hear him, “it’s been a long time since we raided here, but I remember our raids from years ago. We had many successes along the western banks of the river and even near the Ulathan capital, but most of those who tried to pass through the Blackthorn Forest were never seen again. There is something . . . unnatural within it, and it’s not safe.”
Khan leaned back with an incredulous look on his face. “You are actually afraid of that wood, are you not, Dorsun?”
“Shhh, not so loudly, please, Master. Most of our troopers are younger and newer to raiding, but the old timers remember well enough. I’m not afraid, Master, but I am no fool, either. Enter the forest at your own risk. I’ve had my say and will say no more, but I don’t advise following them into it. Have you had word from the Arch-Master?”
“Yes, that old Mage is more stubborn than ever. It seems we won the battle near Cree, but took heavy losses. Even now, he and Ke-Tor are returning to Korwell and want us to return as well in order to reinforce the capital, so time is of the essence. We need to cross soon and either find and capture these Ulathans or kill them outright. They would be more valuable alive, but things are moving quickly in the South.”
“Your orders, then, Master Khan?” Dorsun asked, standing up and towering over the seated, would-be wizard.
“Build your rafts and do it quickly,” Khan said, looking across the river at the tranq
uil-looking forest. “Tranquil, indeed,” Khan said as Dorsun left to order the raft construction and failed to hear Khan’s last comment.
Salina had watched the northern group of brigands return at dusk the day before, and she returned to the hunting blind and informed the others. Cedric and Thomas headed south and relieved old man Horace from his watch on the brigand camp. Emelda was happy to see her husband, and he returned to a pretty sad group of refugees.
They had not eaten all day, and Will’s condition was pretty much stable. Stably sick. He was pale and weak, and the wound looked infected and red. Agatha had opened it up and tried to clean it out, but the pain was intense and Will almost passed out several times before waving her off, but at least she felt she had gotten rid of most of the festering flesh. Again, time would tell, but Will pretty much just slept in a corner of the drafty hunting blind, drifting both in and out of consciousness.
So it was that the next day when Horace was preparing to relieve Cedric and Thomas that Thomas appeared yet again out of breath. “Lady Salina!” he said, huffing as he entered the crowded blind.
“Thomas, take your time. What do you need to tell us?” Salina asked calmly.
“Boats!” he said loudly. “They are building some type of boat to cross the river, several of them, in fact!”
The mood in the blind could not have been more depressing, and this news simply added to it. Horace was the first to comment. “I’ll go have a looksee.”
“I’ll come with you,” Lady Salina replied, grabbing her cloak and sword and preparing to depart the blind. She turned at the last minute to talk with Agatha. “Keep them in here for now. I’ll return as soon as I can, and be prepared to depart. If they are building boats, then we will have to leave right away.”
“I’ll see to it personally, my lady. You go have a looksee, and I’ll get everyone ready soon.”
“Thank you, Agatha. Get Will something to drink and make sure his bandages are tight: we may have to travel far today.”
Agatha nodded in agreement, and then Horace and Salina took off with Thomas south toward the brigand camp. Soon, they reached the old hollowed-out tree where Cedric was keeping watch. Horace took the crossbow from Cedric, and Salina squatted outside the tree hollow with Thomas.
“There, do you see them lashing those tree trunks together?” Cedric said to his mother, pointing to the north of the main camp just barely visible before the berm blocked the farther shore from sight.
Salina looked carefully, and there, about thirty feet from shore in some tall grass that was trampled, she could make out the construction work on some sort of flat structure. “Are those rafts they are making?”
“Rafts or boats, Mother, I’m not sure which, but they are hauling a lot of tree trunks from the surrounding area.” The Blackthorn Forest was on the eastern bank, but there were occasional trees scattered across the land on the western shore. Almost every tree in a quarter mile radius from the brigand camp had been felled, and the entire area looked like a disaster had occurred there with the grasses being trampled and the trees cut. It looked like the area was sick.
“How long have they been at it, son?”
“Since early this morning, and they are making quick progress. Nearly every bandit is either cutting trees or working on the boats. There to the south you can see two more groups of them working on more boats. I think they have three or four in total from what I can see, but the bank over there is higher than here, and I can’t see well enough to tell how many they’re building for sure.”
“But enough for all of them to cross, right?” Salina said.
“I don’t know, Mother.”
Horace leaned forward, joining the conversation. “I’m tired of running, me lady. Let me stay here and deal with them if they cross. You take the others and get to safety.”
Salina was proud at the bravery of the old man but was not ready to give up yet. “We’ll fight them together if they try to cross, but we will need to decide who stays and fights and who will lead the others to safety.”
“I’ll stay, Mother,” Cedric replied without hesitation.
“Me, too!” Thomas chimed in, a large grin on his face, though Salina was sure he didn’t know what he was getting himself into.
“Thanks, all of you, but someone has to lead the ladies to safety. We have to decide upon a direction as well. Let’s all return to the cabin, and we will make our decision there. Everyone will need to have a say in this.” Salina watched as the other three nodded in agreement. “Fine, then. Cedric, you and Thomas head back now and stay out of sight. It will take them a while to build anything, so I don’t think we need to rush this decision right now. Horace and I will watch them for a few hours to make sure they stay put, and then we will join you back at the cabin.”
“See you there, then, Mother. Be safe!” Cedric replied as he and Thomas left to return and get some rest during what was left of the overcast morning.
Salina watched the brigands as they worked. They had posted a couple of sentries to stand watch, but almost all of them were engrossed in the boat construction. She did notice at one point a young man who was dressed in gold and black, which was different than the red and black attire of the brigands. He looked almost sickly, if not just weak, and walked from site to site, reviewing the work. “Who is that?” she asked Horace, pointing to the man.
“Must be one of their leaders: he isn’t doing any work,” Horace said with a slight air of disgust. Horace wasn’t one for approving of another who shirked their duty.
“If we must fight, I think we should try to take him out first.”
“I’ll be happy if I can just take out the closest cutthroat to me,” Horace said, smiling while he mockingly aimed his crossbow in the brigand’s general direction.
After a few hours, Salina motioned for Horace to follow her. Quickly, the two Ulathans entered the forest and headed north, shadowing the river to their left. Soon, Salina had the group assembled in the blind. They were literally packed shoulder to shoulder, and there was no place to walk without stepping on someone.
Salina cleared her throat and looked around at her fellow countrymen. “We need to make a decision now. Some of us have decided to fight the Kesh brigands as they cross the river to buy the others more time. We need to know who will fight and who will lead the others to safety and in what direction. Should we go North away from the brigand camp, south past the camp and hopefully to link up with other Ulathans far to our south or east, deeper into the forest?”
Mostly everyone remained silent: some fidgeted and others looked around. Finally, Emelda broke the silence. “I’ll bet my hardheaded husband already told you he will fight?”
“Emelda, let’s not go there,” Horace replied. “We have scant few men here who can wield a blade, and the few we do are practically boys.”
“I don’t care, Horace! I won’t let you die like Sarson, no matter how bravely. Why can’t we all flee? Let us just run into the forest. They can’t follow us in there, can they?” Emelda asked, her voice pleading.
“Well, I for one am not for running. I’ll ring their bell if they come near me or me ladies’ boys!” Agatha said, her tone firm.
“What are you going to do, Lady Salina?” Monique asked, looking up from where she held Karz in her lap.
Salina thought for a moment as she looked fondly at her small son. “I’ll be fighting, but I need someone to look after my boys for me.”
“Boy!” Cedric said loudly as he toyed with one of his four daggers he had strapped to his chest belt. “I’m fighting, too!”
Salina frowned but knew Cedric, while not trained as a fighter or soldier, was one of the few in the party who could wield a weapon or stand a chance against even a lone brigand from Kesh. “Fine, Cedric joins me, but who will watch after my little Karz?”
“I will keep him safe, my lady,” Monique answered as she c
lutched him tighter to her. Karz smiled, not understanding he would be separated from his mother.
“Right, thank you, Monique. Can I assume, Celeste, that you and Olga will help her watch over my son?” The two older ladies nodded in agreement but said nothing. “Yolanda, you must care for Amy, and Agatha, I need you to care for Will as well.”
“Now just wait one minute,” Will said, struggling to stand on his feet, almost falling over Yolanda and Amy in the process. “I’ll not be babied in this matter, and my sword isn’t finished killing Kesh bandits by far.”
“Shut up, you old coot!” Agatha screeched at him, stepping over Celeste and Olga and attempting to make Will sit again. “You can hardly stand, much less fight or walk!”
“Now, Will, if you stay and fight, who will protect the women and children? Besides, we need fighters who can run once they get close to crossing the river, and you would die on the riverbank, for sure. I’ll not allow it.”
Salina was perhaps the only one in the group who could give Will an ultimatum. Will knew he was weak and that she was correct, but the idea of letting others fight while he ran was contrary to everything he was taught as a soldier. With some hesitation, he finally sat down. “Damn, he does have some sense still left in him. At least the fever hasn’t affected his thinking,” Agatha said, a bit calmer now. “Let me have a look at that arm of yours, Will Carvel.”
“Jons,” Salina said, looking at the young lad. “I’ll need you to help Will protect the women and children. Can you do that?” Salina saw several others smile at the way she worded the request.
“You bet!” Little Jons said, a toothy smile appearing on the young boy’s face. “Will and I will kill any of those thieves that try to hurt the ladies!”
Salina smiled back. “I knew I could count on you.”
Just when Salina thought things were getting settled, Marissa piped in. “I am not running away. I want to find Targon and my family.”
Ranger Rising: Claire-Agon Ranger Book 1 (Ranger Series) Page 19
