Tarah hadn’t taken ten steps past the gate before she was hailed.
“Good! There you are, Tarah,” said Jhonate bin Leeths, the Protector’s sixth born daughter and Sir Edge’s betrothed. She was a beautiful woman with deeply tanned skin and piercing green eyes. Today she was wearing a red hide breastplate laced up the center. “My father sent me to retrieve you. I am glad I did not have to go far.”
“Good afternoon, Jhonate,” Tarah replied, inclining her head in respect. It was only recently, after the treaty disaster, that Jhonate had given her permission to call her by her first name. “Do you know what it is that he wishes to see me about?”
Jhonate turned and walked side by side with the taller woman. “He has more items brought back from the valley for you to look at.”
Tarah grimaced. She had hoped that wasn’t what this meeting was about today. Ever since the disaster at the treaty signing, the Protector had been obsessed with learning the true motivations behind what had taken place. In his mind, there was a treasure trove of information that had been left behind in that battlefield during their hasty retreat.
Unfortunately, the troll behemoth that had made the attacks had not withdrawn from the valley. Grasping tentacles and hungry mouths still lay in wait. At least four more men had been lost in attempts to retrieve items from the field.
Tarah tried not to let her anxiety show in her voice. “Did anyone die trying to retrieve them?”
“Not this time,” Jhonate replied. “Father sent someone who has proven himself able to avoid the behemoth.”
“Oh hi, Pretty Tarah!” shouted a distant voice and Tarah looked across the grounds to the top of the palace steps where a tall thin figure waved his lanky arms.
Tarah’s eyes narrowed. So that’s where the gnome had been.
His arms still raised, Cletus leaned forward into a series of cartwheels that took him down the stairs at a dangerous speed. Halfway to Tarah’s position he grew bored of standard cartwheels and clasped his hands behind his back. His speed unabated, he flipped and skipped with his feet alone until he came to an abrupt stop right in front of her.
“I bringed you a flower,” he said and held out a white orchid. It hung limp and bruised from his enthusiastic arrival.
Tarah glared at him, then stepped past the flower and his outstretched arm and wrapped the narrow gnome in a tight hug. “Damn you, Cletus. I told you not to go back out there again.”
“But, the Protector man told me to,” Cletus said apologetically. “Don’t worry. I didn’t get swallowed up. Didn’t even lose a boot this time.”
The last time Cletus had gone back to the valley had been just two weeks ago. Tarah had been so caught up in the depths of her sorrow over losing Djeri that she hadn’t noticed he was missing. Then suddenly he had appeared at Tarah’s door with Djeri’s sword and helmet in his hands having retrieved them from the valley floor. He had been grinning widely and uninjured, but also barefoot and with torn pants.
Tarah pulled back from the gnome and grasped the front of his vest, pulling his eyes down to her level, her bent nose touching the long pointy end of his. “That was the last time you go out there. Do you understand me? I’m not losing anyone else to that thing. I don’t care what the Protector or anyone else says.”
“But he wants me to go again and he’s almost like a king out here,” Cletus complained, his eyes wide and pleading. “Also it’s fun running away from those snakey arm things.”
“It was an amazing feat,” Jhonate said, unexpectedly coming to the gnome’s aid. “The men that were with him swore that they had never seen anything like it. The way they described it, the whole hillside was reaching for him but he managed to avoid it all.”
Tarah turned her glare on the woman. “Don’t you take his side on this, Jhonate bin Leeths.”
“I could do it lots of times and they’d never get me,” Cletus assured her.
“Oh, really? You think you’re invincible?” Tarah scoffed. She reached out with one finger and poked at the pink scar on the gnome’s cheek. “What’s this then?”
“That’s my battle scar from Deathclaw,” he said proudly, smiling again. “Miss Jhonate did I show you my scar?”
“Yes. You showed me, Cletus,” Jhonate replied.
“It’s proof that you can be hurt, Cletus,” Tarah pressed.
He laughed at the thought. “It didn’t hurt that much. Except when Beth sewed it up.”
Tarah’s hands balled into fists and she was tempted to show him just how hurt he could get, but was interrupted by the sudden appearance of a small child between them.
“You’re taking too long,” Esmine said, using her favorite form. She looked like a small child of the Jharro Grove elves with dark skin and pointed ears, yet her clothing was that of a Roo-Tan warrior and her hair was braided with white ribbons at either side of her face. “That’s what the Protector was just saying.”
“He is eager for your arrival,” Jhonate said.
Grumbling, Tarah pushed past Cletus and started up the steps/
“Hello, fuzzy girl. Do you wanna ride on my shoulders?” Cletus asked with a broad grin. For some reason Esmine’s illusions didn’t quite work on the gnome. He could see that something was there, but it was all just blurry to him.
Esmine held out her hands and Cletus lifted her up to sit behind his head. “One day, I’m gonna figure out how to make you see me right,” she promised.
Cletus laughed, rubbing his ear. “When you talk it’s like a bunch of bees buzzing!”
Jhonate trotted up the steps to reach Tarah’s side. “I know that it must be difficult for you to touch those memories. But you must see how valuable this information could be for the next time we have to face the Gnome Warlord.”
“I am well aware. Otherwise I would refuse,” Tarah replied.
Calling those memories ‘difficult’ was an understatement. Each time the Protector had her touch an item from the valley she was forced once more to experience the terror of that day. The memories were usually those of panic or terror as the person who last touched them was grabbed and yanked to the behemoth’s hungry mouths.
Reliving the horror would have been worth it though if they had come up with any useful information. Those of the Roo-Tan who were swallowed learned nothing of value in their final moments and so far, there had been nothing more to learn from the opposing side. They had been just as terrified and caught unawares.
Jhonate frowned. “Your attitude is not helpful. I understand your pain, but remember that you are not the only one who lost someone.”
Tarah stopped at the top of the steps and sighed. She looked Jhonate in the eye. “I am sorry for my rudeness. It is not you or your papa that I’m angry with. It’s just . . .” She put her hand over the place in her chest where the faint white line of spirit magic that connected her to Djeri emanated. “Everybody we lost that day . . . Beth and Tolynn keep me busy, hoping I won’t dwell on it but I can’t just ignore the fact that they’re not really gone. They’re just being remade.”
“Into monsters,” Jhonate said. “And they will not remember us.”
“We don’t know that for sure!” Tarah said. “Can you imagine the horror of waking up like that? What if they do remember? Or even if they don’t remember now, what if they could?”
Jhonate swallowed and Tarah saw from her troubled gaze that the woman had struggled with those same fears. “We can not dwell on that possibility.”
“So we ignore it instead?” Tarah said. She pointed towards the center of the palace where the Protector’s Conference Room stood. “Every day we plan for war as if we are certain they are the enemy while it seems to me that we already know who is at fault!”
Jhonate nodded. Everyone knew of Tarah’s hatred for the Gnome Warlord. “My betrothed is out in the swamps somewhere speaking with the Stranger right now. Perhaps he will return with proof that you are right.” She pointed in the same direction Tarah had. “Or perhaps today you will find the evidence
you are looking for. There is only one way to find out.”
The Protector’s Conference Room was a fascinating and ornate space. It was hexagonally-shaped with a high domed ceiling and yet somehow the voices of those speaking never seemed to echo. Tarah was not sure how it was done, but she had seen the faint shimmer of spirit magic in the polished wood of the walls.
She entered the room expecting to see it filled with the leaders of the six Roo-Tan houses. That’s how it had been every time she had been there since the disaster, so she was surprised to see how few people were there. The Protector stood next to the six-sided table at the center of the room attended only by Hubrin his eldest living son, Sir Hilt, and Jhonate’s mother, Jhandra bin Tayl, who was holding their newborn child.
Xedrion glanced over at them as they entered. “Hurry. We do not have much time before the next meeting begins.”
“Greetings, Tarah,” said Sir Hilt. “Did Beth and Tolynn tire you out today?”
“They certainly tried their best,” she replied.
Jhonate looked just as surprised at the lack of people in the room as Tarah had been. “Where is everyone, Father?”
“Considering the nature of the evidence that our good friend Cletus brought back to us today, I thought it best to let Miss Woodblade examine it without the pressure of a roomful of house member shouting questions,” he explained, then focused on Tarah. “I have great hope that this time we will get the information we need.”
Tarah walked towards the table, noticing the stained white garment that lay across it. “What is this?”
“It’s Scholar Aloysius’ robe,” Cletus said from behind her. Esmine was gone from his shoulders and was standing on top of the table peering down at the garment. “I found it in the water.”
“He had to go all the way to the center of the valley to retrieve it,” Xedrion said. “It was stripped from him during the behemoth’s attack. Hopefully enough of the Warlord’s memories remain.”
Tarah’s eyes were wide as she approached the table. “Don’t you worry. If they are there, I will find them.”
If Jhonate had just told her that this is what they had found Tarah would have sprinted here. This was better than she could have hoped for. Letting in a slow breath, she reached out towards the garment.
“Sorry. I had to touch it lots,” said Cletus, aware from past experience that Tarah needed untouched memories.
Indeed, the first glimpses she got upon touching the hem of the robe were of Cletus’ unabashed excitement as he contorted and cavorted through the tangle of grasping tentacles around him. Fortunately, Tolynn had taught her much about her talent.
Tarah was now able to look past that newest layer of memory to catch prior thoughts. Her lip curled. “I have one.” This first memory of Aloysius was a smug one as his stewards dressed him for the meeting. “He came into the meeting confident he would win.”
“Was he truly unaware that the Troll Mother would attack?” asked Hubrin.
Tarah didn’t answer, but kept peeling back more layers of memory. Mostly it was the thoughts of stewards as they cleaned the robe or placed it on him. It disgusted her how much they worshipped him. In their minds, serving him was the highest calling a steward could have.
She moved her hands across the garment, disappointed to find that the armor he had worn under it had kept him from touching most of it on the day of the treaty meeting. Tarah grasped the sleeve, knowing that he would have had to touch it there.
Tarah gasped as his thoughts flashed through her mind. “Anger. He felt betrayal as the behemoth attacked him.” Tarah looked further back, certain there was more. She peeled back layer after layer, catching glimpses of emotion as the event played out backwards before her.
“But further back he was . . .” She felt his frustration, irritation, and a brief stab of fear as he realized that he was in personal danger. But before that was one of the memories she had been looking for. “He was furious that the behemoth attacked before he gave the signal!”
“Then he knew!” Jhonate said.
Tarah kept going back . . . “It was his backup plan,” she realized. “If you didn’t sign voluntarily.”
The Protector grunted. “What more can you find?”
“Just a minute. The sleeve wasn’t in contact with his skin the whole time.” The next glimpses she caught were from earlier on in the meeting that day when he was confident his plan was coming together. “He was eager for the Protector to sign, though.”
Tarah bit her lip. She mustn’t say things like that. It made Aloysius sound too good. She was certain that more of his evil thoughts would come to light. She went to the other sleeve and started searching through the memories there. It was more of the same. Pompous arrogance. Outrage that things got out of hand. Then she caught something else.
“There is something here about the Stranger,” Tarah said. “Something about the sword not working anymore.”
Xedrion leaned forward. “Do you know more about the sword?”
“It was stabbed into his back, under his skin,” she said opening her eyes. That explained those other memories she had found. The demons that followed Aloysius thought he had control over the Stranger. She thought back to her lessons with Beth. “The sword must have spirit magic and since it had pierced his skin-.”
“Its magic had gotten past his defenses,” Xedrion concluded with a nod. “That was our theory. I had thought their interactions odd. The Stranger kept giving the Warlord counsel and that seemed to infuriate him. The Stranger must have found a way to break free of the magic.”
“Then it is good that Edge went to see him,” Jhonate told her father.
“That still does not make me happy that he chose to do so unilaterally,” the Protector replied. He looked back to Tarah. “What else can you tell me?”
“Uh . . .” Tarah could get nothing new from the sleeve. She moved up to the collar, to the back of the neck where it would have spent the most time in contact with him.
She found more glimpses of the same events. “Well, he thought he was being overly fair. He thought you had no choice to sign, but he was prepared to fight if you didn’t.”
“Was he telling the truth about his plans for treaty?” Jhandra said, bobbing up and down with the baby. “Did he mean to stick to his side of the agreement and if not, what were his plans for the Grove?”
“I see no intent to break the treaty,” Tarah forced herself to admit. “And no desire to destroy the Grove. But he did want its resources.”
“That part was plainly laid out for us,” Xedrion said bitterly.
“And not all that unreasonable,” Sir Hilt pointed out. “He just wanted dead wood and occasional sap. More than the elves would like you to give, but less than we expected him to ask for.”
Tarah frowned at Sir Hilt’s comment. Nothing the Warlord had done was reasonable. “But we shouldn’t forget that he invited the Troll Queen to be there. He was prepared to feed her Roo-Tan prisoners until the Protector submitted to sign the treaty!”
Xedrion raised a calming hand. “We know. Is there anything else you can tell us? Any other information that could help?”
Tarah searched the robes over, using her powers to go back as far as she was able. “I’m sorry. Maybe with more time? If Tolynn was here to help me?”
The doors to the Conference Room opened and house members began to filter in.
The Protector nodded. “Thank you for your efforts, Miss Woodblade. We will keep it here for you to try again. Jhonate, will you escort her and Cletus?”
Jhonate inclined her head and walked Tarah and the gnome past the incoming leaders. “I worry for my betrothed,” she said softly, her face lined with worry. “It seems more and more likely that the Stranger is still with the Warlord. I wish that my Jharro ring could reach him from here.”
Tarah’s worries were elsewhere. “Do you think he was convinced? The truth is finally in front of him.”
“I cannot say what Father is thinking,” Jh
onate said, then let out a sigh. “But it seems evident that this Warlord is not our friend.”
“He cares only for himself and will do anything no matter how heinous to get what he wants!” Tarah growled.
“Indeed,” Jhonate said, pausing at the end of the hallway. She twisted the ring on her finger then glanced back towards the Conference Room. “I will leave you here. You know the way.”
“Yeah,” said Tarah and watched as she returned the way they had come.
“Scholar Aloysius is a bad gnome,” Cletus said sadly. “I don’t like him anymore.”
“I know,” Tarah said, aware that Cletus’ history with the Warlord was long and complicated.
As they walked out onto the Palace steps together Tarah felt the heat of the sun hit her. She looked out over the sights of Roo-Tan’lan and she felt like a weight was gone from her shoulders. Something had gone well for once. She was one step closer to seeing Aloysius get what he deserved.
She pondered what to do now. Her work was over. She had the rest of the day free. A thought occurred to her.
“Esmine?” she said.
The child reappeared on Cletus’ shoulders, a Jharro sword in her hand. She thrust out with it as she talked. “I heard everything. I hope I get to be there when we kill him.”
Tarah smiled at the thought. “Me too.”
“Are you going to make me do it?” Cletus asked sadly, rubbing his ear.
Tarah patted his arm. “Nah. Esmine and I can handle that together.”
“His blood is going to go all over the place and then I’m going to cut a piece off of him and eat it just like he did to me!” She shrugged. “Or you can eat it, Tarah.”
“Let’s not go that far,” Tarah replied with a wince. “Esmine, do you know where Willum is?”
The elf child pointed off to the edge of the palace grounds where the servants houses were. “He’s over there. With Mage Vannya.”
Behemoth (The Jharro Grove Saga Book 6) Page 11
