“Carrot! Come on over here. I need your help!” Targon yelled behind him. Soon, the bear trotted over, and both the Kesh scrambled backward several feet, fear obvious in their eyes. “Keep an eye on these guests for us, please, and don’t hurt them unless they do something rude.”
“Mother Agon!” exclaimed Dorsun, holding very still, not taking his eyes off of the bear, who now stood head down, occasionally growling softly.
Targon motioned the others to him and stepped a few feet away, out of hearing range of the Kesh. Horace and Will gathered around him. “We lost Elister, and Cedric is pretty banged up. I’m not for killing these Kesh outright, and something isn’t right with them. I saw both those Kesh sorcerers try to kill each other. What do you think?”
Will spoke first, as Horace kept glancing over at the Kesh, not trusting even the bear to keep them behaved. “The only good Kesh is a dead one. If you can’t do it, let me take care of it.”
“Now, Will, maybe the lad is right. It may be good to learn something from them, and they can’t do us much harm now, not really with that animal of Mister Elister’s watching over them,” Horace responded.
“I know how you feel, Will, but while my heart agrees with you, my head tells me they may have information we can use. I’d like to know why they are in Ulatha, how many of them are here, and what their plans are. Don’t you agree some questioning might be in order?”
“Perhaps,” Will responded, a bit softer in his tone, “but I still wouldn’t trust a Kesh to tell the truth. All bloodthirsty cutthroats and assassins they are!” He rubbed his left arm.
“You feeling all right, Will? Arm doing better?” Targon asked.
Will held his sword, tip into the ground, with his right hand and flexed his left arm in a circular motion. “Yeah, I’ll live. I think I pulled a stitch or two and it’s sore as hell, but I’ll manage.”
“Good,” Targon replied, and then looked where Cedric lay. “Can you and Horace see to our friend? He has a nasty head wound and doesn’t look too well.”
“Aye, he is still sleeping, that one. Tough as his mother, though. He’ll be all right, lad, we’ll see to that. Come on, Will, we have work to do,” Horace said, walking toward Cedric.
Will started to follow but looked back at Targon and then eyed the Kesh and motioned with his head before turning back and walking after Horace. Targon returned to the bear and the two Kesh men. He noticed they had stumbled to their feet and had moved slightly to stand with their backs against a lone tree, watching the bear intently.
“My companion says we should kill you both.” Targon looked at both men seriously.
Dorsun was about to speak when Khan took a step in front, placing his right arm across the man’s chest, hushing him. “Death would be deserved at this point, Ulathan, though you do not appear to be like your fellows. May I at least ask of your name before sentence is passed?”
Targon placed a hand on Core’s massive head, soothing the bear, who was growling, becoming more active at the sight of Khan stepping forward. “My name is Targon, and no one has judged you yet, much less decided to execute you, though you stand now in Ulathan lands and not Kesh lands.” At this, Core growled again, his head swaying from side to side as he showed his canines peeking through his lips, making the animal appear even more menacing than previously. “I’d like to ask why you attacked your fellow Kesh?”
Khan appeared to sigh a bit, and Targon noticed that despite the bear and Khan’s restraining hand on his chest, the veteran Kesh fighter seemed tense, as if ready to leap. He seemed to have somewhat regained his courage, and courage was not a trait well known nor attributed often to Kesh brigands.
“Ah, yes, you saw that, then?” Khan asked rhetorically. “That was Ke-Tor, my old master and mentor, and I seriously doubt as an Ulathan that you can appreciate the level to which we Kesh go when it comes to betrayal and deceit. Quite frankly, after that battle of ours, my master found me lacking and connived to have me executed for my failure. Failure that came at your hands.”
Targon gripped his axe tighter. “That failure would not have occurred had you not invaded our lands.”
“Quite right,” Khan said, letting out his breath. “We should not be here, but those are not the decisions made by myself or even some of my companions. You still have not told me who you are. You look Ulathan, yet different.”
Targon relaxed a moment but kept an eye on the Kesh fighter with his peripheral vision. “I am Ulathan, but not from the city nor a farmer near the capital. I reside in the wild parts of Ulatha,” Targon said, and then finally making up his mind about what to do with them, he finished. “You both will come with me, then, until we decide what to do with you.”
“Did you see Ke-Tor, I mean, the other man from across the river? Did he survive?” Khan asked somewhat excitedly, pointing across the river where his old mentor had stood before the massive blast had knocked them all unconscious.
“I saw no one when I came to. Either he left before I awoke or he was consumed in the blast,” Targon said, motioning for Will to come over.
“Cedric will be fine. We splashed some water on his face and he is coming to, but he is weak from blood loss and battle stress,” Will said matter-of-factly.
“Do we have any rope?”
Will patted his belt and then looked back toward where they had deposited their packs when the battle started. “I have a length or two in my pack from when we made the crossing.”
“Fetch two pieces large enough to bind their hands. We are taking them with us.”
“You sure that’s a good idea?”
“No, not really, but I’ll not kill them in cold blood. Kesh we are not. Besides, we have Carrot here to keep an eye on them.”
“Who will keep an eye on that bear, then?”
Targon chuckled. “We’ll be fine. There is more going on here than we know.”
Will quickly fetched the rope, and reluctantly, the two Kesh allowed themselves to have their hands bound in front of them. Cedric had regained his footing, and Horace had retrieved his own crossbow and slung it across his back on top of the pack while keeping Cedric’s crossbow in his hands pointed at the Kesh. Before they had started, Will asked to have the men blindfolded as well, but Targon told them they would be returning to his home by a different route, the one the old man Elister had used.
“How will we find it?” Will asked. “I don’t fancy getting lost in these woods.”
“Carrot will lead the way,” Targon responded.
The party departed into the forest, and Targon took a last long look at the stone figure of Elister, standing there to forever guard the river and clearing, and soon the group was lost deep in the Blackthorn Forest. Core led them at a leisurely pace with the Kesh following the bear and then Horace right behind them with his bow. “Stay behind me,” he had told them when they started. “I want to have a clear line of sight in case I have to shoot one of them.”
Will followed Horace closely with his broadsword unsheathed and in his good right hand while the blade rested backward on his right shoulder. Targon followed, taking up the rear, occasionally stopping to listen in case they were being followed and then, just as quickly, catching up to his companions. The sun set, and the darkness of the forest was much deeper than they had thought. Luckily, the twin sisters rose quickly and shed some small illuminating light beyond the canopy of leaves, and, though they occasionally stumbled, they finally made their way back to Targon’s homestead, tired and sore from the day’s events.
The homecoming was intense as Emelda ran to Horace and Lady Salina greeted her son affectionately. Agatha came and administered to Cedric, who quickly started to have a fever as they laid him on the lone makeshift bed in the common room near the fire. Olga had prepared a nice cabbage stew with plenty of meat from the buck, and Marissa had led the efforts to smoke and dry what meat remained so that it would keep. T
argon blushed somewhat as Monique also gave him a heartwarming hug, and Salina had hushed Agatha before she could comment on “all that smooching.”
Khan and Dorsun were released from their bonds against the will of most of the refugees, but the presence of Core was undeniably reassuring. “Make one move and I’ll skewer you to that porch,” was all Horace said as he sat on a log stump in the front clearing, leveling his crossbow at the two men, and Core lay down, head facing the Kesh, eyes open.
“Olga,” Targon called as the group of Ulathans came from inside the cabin to the porch to somewhat gawk at their prisoners. “Bring two cups of stew for these men when you get a chance, will you?”
“I’d rather they go hungry, Master Targon!” Agatha screeched from the doorway, looking most scornfully at the Kesh.
“Humor me,” Targon said, also standing watch, sitting on a tree stump log, but much closer to the Kesh than was Horace.
“Thomas, get away from them!” Celeste had to say to keep the curious boy at a healthy distance.
Targon looked around and agreed. “Salina, can we keep the children indoors? It’s getting late, and for their safety, it’s best if they weren’t outdoors at this time of night.”
Thomas groaned in complaint and Karz didn’t want to leave his mother, so Salina took them indoors with Agatha coming to admonish both Marissa and Monique as well as they stood gawking at their prisoners. Soon, two large cups were brought from inside, and Olga told them they’d have to sip it as spoons were in short supply.
“I almost didn’t recognize the place,” Khan spoke, looking at Targon and thanking Olga and then taking his cup gingerly, as it steamed in the cooler night air.
“No, Master,” Dorsun said, refusing his cup. “It may be poisoned.” A look of concern crossed his face.
“Nonsense, you filthy cutthroat! Be glad you are given anything at all!” Agatha screeched from out of sight but obviously not out of earshot.
“Olga, shut the door on your way in, please,” Targon asked. Olga complied, placing Dorsun’s cup next to him on the rickety wooden porch. Will also sat on the porch but leaned against the wall, seeming to not tire of holding his broadsword, or at the very least, stoically maintaining his silent vigil.
“Eat, Dorsun, we may not get another chance with some of these Ulathans, and poison would be fitting, anyway,” Khan said, resigned, blowing on his stew to cool it, gingerly putting his lips to the cup and tasting it. Dorsun hesitated for a moment, but it was obvious Khan was famished and had already made up his mind, so the brigand chieftain picked up his cup after rubbing his wrists where the rope had bit into his flesh and started to eat.
Targon allowed the men time to eat. He, Horace, and Will had eaten earlier, and the Kesh did not complain, sitting in silence. Finally, somewhat sure the men had finished or were close to finishing, Targon spoke. “Khan, is it?” Khan nodded. “Why are you in Ulatha?”
Khan cleared his throat and went to wipe his mouth with his sleeve, hesitating for only a second before determining it was soiled, anyway, and any excess stew wouldn’t matter. “Our High-Mage demanded it. He said it was for slaves and provisions, but I know he seeks something, and the knowledge for what he seeks was rumored to be in Korwell where . . .”
He was quickly interrupted by Dorsun. “Master, no! Do not tell them—”
“It’s all right, Dorsun.” Khan quickly silenced his protector. “There is no harm in explaining our actions. Besides, we may need to gain their trust if we are to fulfill my mission.”
“You mean Ke-Tor?” Dorsun asked, eyes wide open. “He is dead most likely, Master, you have nothing to fear from him.”
“He was still a good distance away from Am-Ohkre when the Mage’s spell backfired, though I am unsure of how that old Ulathan man could do such a thing to him, but, anyway, I looked carefully and did not see his body across the river. I fear he lives still, and we now have a blood feud that can only end when one of us is dead.”
“Then we must seek him out,” Dorsun began, taking a long last swig of his stew, tipping the cup as far back as it would go and downing the last he could get. “But first we must find your staff, and I must have a blade.”
Targon looked at Will, who just shrugged, and then back to the Kesh men as they held their own private conversation, oblivious to the Ulathans. “Excuse me, Khan, but I think you’re getting ahead of yourself.”
Khan looked at Targon and then back to Dorsun and then back to Targon again, seemingly understanding his current predicament. “Understood, Ulathan Targon, however, I have a blood feud with my old mentor, and as long as I live, I am honor-bound to complete it. That is our way, the Kesh way, though I doubt you to understand.”
Targon was about to speak when Marissa came out the door. “Targon! Come quick!” she exclaimed. “Cedric is getting worse. We need some of those Arella leaves to help him.”
“Get inside this minute, child!” Agatha’s grating voice yelled over everyone, and Targon noticed that even the Kesh grimaced when she spoke.
Lady Salina appeared at the doorway and motioned for Targon to come inside. “Master Targon, my son is ill. We need your help.”
Targon looked warily at the Kesh and then asked Horace and Will to keep an eye on them as he entered the room. “What is it?” he said after Monique had closed the door behind them.
Salina knelt at Cedric’s bedside while Agatha wiped the young man’s brow with a wet cloth, and Olga was trying unsuccessfully to get him to eat some stew. “Clear away. Give the man some room,” Celeste said as the others scurried away.
Targon bent over and felt Cedric’s forehead. It was hot to the touch, and it appeared he had quickly become ill for no apparent reason. “Did one of those cutthroats do something to young Master Cedric?” Celeste asked, concerned.
“I don’t know, but I don’t think so. Cedric was in a bad way before we left. Perhaps the stress and exertion was too much for him.
Targon hadn’t heard the door open, so he was surprised to hear Khan’s voice. “It’s not a natural fever: it’s poison.”
“Get that filth out of here!” Agatha said scornfully as she attended to Cedric’s forehead again with her cloth, only glancing up to scowl at Khan, who stood in the doorway not moving, Will standing next to him protectively.
Targon didn’t think Khan was capable of hurting them. He was frail and lean, even for a Kesh, who were normally tall and slender, anyway, though he couldn’t be sure the Kesh sorcerer didn’t have some sort of dark magic at his disposal. “How do you know that, Khan?” Targon asked, standing back up to face him.
“The Red Throat Company uses poisoned bolts from time to time, and half those soldiers you fought today bore the sigil of that company. It would have killed him sooner, but it appears only a small amount of the toxin managed to enter the young man’s body.”
“Why, those no good, brigand, cutthroating . . .” Emelda chimed in, shaking her head, speaking before Agatha could grate them with her coarse voice.
“Targon, quickly, can you find more of those Arella leaves for my son?” Salina pleaded with him.
Khan spoke before Targon could answer. “They won’t help him. He will die soon before they can take effect. The toxin is too powerful for the Arella.”
“You know of the Arella?” Targon asked, looking skeptically at Khan as he fingered the blade on his axe stuck in his belt.
“Of course. It is a basic part of our herbal and potion studies in Keshtor.”
“Well, effective or not, we have to do something. I can’t let the lady’s son die,” Targon said.
“Perhaps I can assist?” Khan responded, stepping into the room toward Cedric. This brought an instant commotion, as the ladies grabbed the children protectively and pulled them behind themselves and Will took two large strides to grab Khan by his shoulder and stop him from moving further. Targon could hear Horace and Dorsun st
art to argue while Core was clearly audible as a deep bass growl permeated the entire cabin, even from outside.
“Stop!” Targon yelled, releasing his axe and holding both hands up, waving them from side to side. “What are you proposing, Khan?”
The room was eerily silent until Cedric vomited what little he had eaten back into the cup Olga had held to his lips. “Mother Agon, help us before the father takes him!” Olga exclaimed, taking the damp cloth from Agatha’s hand and wiping Cedric’s chin, cleaning him up.
“I have something . . . something that can help . . . the only thing that can help him,” Khan said hesitantly, looking around at the room of scowling Ulathans.
“What? Do tell, and no games,” Salina asked, a look of concern across her face as her brow furrowed, and she looked sternly at Khan.
Khan cleared his throat and raised his hand to touch his last remaining Talaman and took a long moment in deciding his next words. “I have magic . . .”—he allowed the words to linger, and indeed, they had the desired effect as looks of both awe and revulsion crossed the faces of the Ulathans—“magic that can cure your friend.”
“Don’t let him touch your boy, my lady,” Celeste whispered, while Olga, Agatha, and Monique nodded their heads in agreement.
Salina never looked at them. “Do you have honor in Kesh?” She spoke softly but sternly.
“We are not all alike, much the same as most Ulathans differ one from another,” Khan replied firmly, still holding his Talaman.
“Then undo what your companions have inflicted upon my son, and by our father Akun, I will slit your throat if you harm one hair on my son’s head. Am I clear, sorcerer?”
Targon exhaled deeply, shocked by the sternness of Salina’s words, and no one had any doubt she would carry through on her threat. “Understood,” Khan replied simply, but not moving.
“Release him, Will. Let him attend to my son,” Salina commanded. Even Agatha knew to keep her mouth shut, and Will released his hold on the wizard, who quietly crossed over to Cedric’s bedside as Agatha and Olga drew back in fear from the Kesh man. Khan knelt at Cedric’s side, and under the careful watch of everyone in the room, he pulled his last Talaman from his chain and held it to Cedric’s lips as Cedric’s eyes fluttered open.
Ranger Rising: Claire-Agon Ranger Book 1 (Ranger Series) Page 32
