Behemoth (The Jharro Grove Saga Book 6)

by Trevor H. Cooley

  “Has he moved since he stopped talking to you?” Hilt asked Jhonate.

  “I do not think so,” she replied. “My ring feels like it is stationary.”

  “Can you try talking to him again?” he said.

  She grunted. “He took it off his finger.”

  “You think he tossed it?” Tarah asked as they started down the stairs. “It’s what I’d do if I didn’t want to be followed.”

  Jhonate growled and the disrespectfulness of the raptoid throwing her gift away made her words sound choked. “He had better not.”

  They sped up and Hilt asked, “What of Esmine? Can she find him within her range?”

  The small elf child appeared running beside the named warrior. “I’ve been looking. Don’t see him yet.”

  “Directly south of us,” Jhonate said as they left the palace grounds and hit the shadowed streets of Roo-Tan’lan at a run.

  “I’m looking,” Esmine repeated. “But I can only see so far.”

  “Her range is two miles,” Tarah reminded them.

  “Then he cannot be much further,” Jhonate said. “That is close to the distance in which I can communicate with Edge.”

  Hilt frowned. “Really? Beth’s range with her Jharro is wood much further than that. Many times further.”

  Jhonate growled again and she sped up. “She is better at it than me.”

  They continued southward using wide streets that were lit intermittently by lanterns. The city folk that moved on the streets saw the urgency of their run and made sure to give them plenty of room.

  Jhonate’s ring still wasn’t moving which told Tarah that her suggestion that the raptoid had discarded the ring was likely true. Esmine hadn’t found anything either and by the time they reached the ring’s location, it was obvious that Deathclaw was long gone.

  “I think I see it,” Esmine said, pointing up at a four-story building stack. “On the roof.”

  “I shall skin that dragon when I find him!” Jhonate declared.

  Tarah started up the stairway that wrapped around the stack. “I’ll get it and find out what he was up to.”

  She ascended to the top and ignored the faces of the children that watched out the windows of the building as she leapt up and grabbled the edge of the roof. Immediately, Tarah caught a glimpse of a quick memory. Deathclaw’s tail had struck this exact spot briefly as he lay on the roof. Grunting, Tarah pulled herself up and rolled onto the roof’s white stone surface.

  She saw the Jharro ring right away, standing out from the stone in the moonlight. “Got it!”

  She reached down to pick up the ring and without thinking, tried to collect memories from it. That was a mistake.

  Tolynn had warned her long ago about using her talent on someone else’s living Jharro wood. What she received was the mental equivalent of touching electrified water. Tarah’s mind was jolted with Jhonate’s current emotions as well as a jumble of memories from Deathclaw, Justan, and the very tree that the wood came from.

  Jhonate and Tarah both cried out from the pain of it. Tarah’s legs buckled and she fell to the rooftop, the ring spilling from her paralyzed fingers. The ring landed on its edge and rolled right off the edge. The piece of Jharro wood fell down the stack’s angled façade, bouncing off a balcony edge before pinging off of the stone street below.

  “What was that?” Jhonate shouted.

  “Sorry!” Tarah wheezed. Her legs twitched, her nerves randomly firing. So that’s why Tolynn had said not to do that. She very well could have fallen to her death!

  Groaning, she rolled over and placed her forehead on the rooftop. A stark memory stood out to her. Deathclaw had lain here, anxious, trying not to tell Jhonate more than he was supposed to. The use of her power so quickly after that overload caused Tarah’s head to twinge, but she got up in a crouch and placed her hand where her forehead had been.

  Tarah began to peel back layers of memories. She relived the raptoid’s conversation with Jhonate, but learned very little of what he had been hiding. Deathclaw was experienced in the use of bonds. He had been very specifically not thinking of the subjects he didn’t want Jhonate to know.

  Sir Hilt’s voice came up to her from the doorway beneath where she crouched. “Are you finding anything, Tarah?”

  “Yeah, just a minute,” she replied touching a few spots in the same general area. She found a memory where Deathclaw spoke to someone just after deciding to leave the ring behind. Her lips moved with the memory, We should leave before they come looking for us . . . “He wasn’t alone up here!”

  Then she moved to the other side of the roof and that was where she found her answers.

  She came to back to the edge a few minutes later and Hilt reached up to help her down. He breathed a few apologies to the family whose night they had just disrupted and followed Tarah down the stairs. Jhonate waited for them at the bottom, her face pinched as she looked at the ring in the palm of her hand.

  “Well?” Hilt asked. “Who was he with?”

  “Talon,” Tarah said repressing a shiver at the female raptoid’s odd thought patterns. “They left together to head southward and rejoin Sir Edge and the Stranger.”

  “Talon?” Hilt said. He knew of Deathclaw’s sister only by reputation, but what he had heard was enough to run a shiver up his spine.

  “Talon was with Edge and Deathclaw when we parted near Stolz’ place.” Jhonate told him. “Did you find out what he was hiding, Tarah?”

  Tarah licked her lips as she came up with the partial truth she wanted to tell. “I am not certain. I caught partial glimpses of thoughts, but he is planning on returning here sometime soon with your betrothed. I will continue to track Deathclaw and Talon and learn more.”

  “Good,” Jhonate said. “I want to know everything you find.”

  Hilt folded his arms. “Are you so certain that is a good idea?”

  “What do you mean?” Jhonate asked.

  “We have no reason to distrust Edge,” he said. “We know the caliber of a man he is. If he felt that something needed to be kept from your father he probably had a good reason.”

  Jhonate’s back straightened. “Does that mean he needs to keep it from me?”

  “Perhaps it was something he felt you would be safer not knowing. Why tell you something specifically knowing that you would have to keep it from the Protector of the Grove?” he suggested.

  She cocked her head at him. “Then this is about Aloysius.”

  Tarah’s jaw tightened. They were puzzling it out too easily.

  “That would be my guess,” Hilt said, eyeing Tarah’s response. “I think it’s very possible he might be coming back with a new treaty plan.”

  Tarah tried to keep her expression neutral. “Would the Protector even listen to a plan after what that warlord did?”

  “It would depend on how it was brought to him,” Hilt said. “Which would explain why Edge is being so careful.”

  “My father has likely already thought of this possibility,” Jhonate said.

  Tarah watched their interaction with a sense of unease rising within her. The two of them were taking this all so calmly. Jhonate wasn’t even angry anymore. If they acted this way so might the Protector. He could end up sitting right back at the treaty table with that monster.

  “I’ll continue to track ’em,” Tarah announced. “You two decide what you want to tell the Protector.”

  “You’ll keep us informed what you find?” Hilt asked.

  “Sure,” she said.

  Jhonate placed a hand on Tarah’s arm. “Do not . . . tell my father anything unless you tell us first.”

  “You got it.” Tarah replied and headed off in the direction she knew the raptoids had gone.

  Esmine reappeared at her side. “I saw those memories you found.”

  Yeah. Aloysius is coming here, Tarah replied mentally.

  “But we’ll get to him first,” Esmine said with a determined glower.

  Tarah nodded grimly and began to search ou
t the raptoid’s tracks. After leaving the Jharro ring behind, Deathclaw had been confident that with their assassin skills and Talon’s musk they could evade any pursuit. They were right to be confident. Their flight had left no visible trace.

  But they were being tracked by Tarah Woodblade.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Do you think she will still be mad?” Fist asked, his tone both cautious and amused.

  “Jhonate will be herself,” Deathclaw replied with a derisive hiss as he rolled his reptilian eyes.

  The figures of the bonded stood in the large cloud-like room that Justan had created in the bond. Artemus had been teaching Justan more about how to build a space like this and the room had become more and more detailed each night that they met. Here their mental representations were able to talk to each other as if they were standing in person.

  A lit fireplace stood in one corner of the room and a table had been placed in the center surrounded by comfortable chairs. One aspect that Justan was particularly proud of was the tapestry that covered the entire southern wall and depicted the continuing adventures of the bonded.

  “Don’t be unfair, Deathclaw,” Justan chided. He had not been happy when the raptoid had rejoined the Warlord’s party the day before and reported what had happened. “Jhonate’s anger was justified with the way you cut her off and ran away.”

  “I gave the message as instructed. That is all,” Deathclaw said.

  Yeah. He gave a message, Squirrel agreed from his perch on the raptoid’s shoulder.

  Deathclaw gave the little animal a menacing hiss and Squirrel had to jump down to avoid a swipe from the raptoid’s tail. A few seconds later he was back up again, but this time on Deathclaw’s other shoulder offering him a nut. Deathclaw hissed again and looked away but did not bother swiping the animal away this time.

  One benefit of Fist’s relative closeness to Justan was that the ogre had been able to bring both of his bonded into the meeting with him. This gave Squirrel the opportunity to harass Deathclaw while Gwyrtha and Rufus happily wrestled in the corner.

  “You really shouldn’t blame Deathclaw for a lack of diplomacy,” Justan. Artemus observed. The wizard sat next to the table, the only one of the bonded whose mental projection had bothered to use one of the chairs Justan had made. He had made a steaming cup of tea appear and was cradling it in his blue-tinged fingers. “He did the best that he could with the job that was given him. You can’t expect him to be someone he is not.”

  Justan had to admit the wizard had a point. He had no one to blame but himself. He should have known better than to expect the raptoid to use any sort of tact. “He’s right, Deathclaw. You did what I asked and kept Talon in line while you did it. We’ll have to work on your diplomatic skills another time.”

  “Humans and diplomacy . . .” the raptoid grumbled.

  “At any rate, that part is over,” Justan told Fist. “I have taken the Gnome Warlord’s group as close to Roo-Tan’lan as I dare. Gwyrtha and I will leave the camp early tomorrow morning and ride to Roo-Tan’lan and explain everything to Xedrion. If it all goes as planned, he and Aloysius will be meeting together by nightfall. How did things go at the border?”

  “There was already an escort waiting for us when we got there,” Fist said.

  “I had hoped that would be the case,” Justan said.

  After the last Roo-Dan border attack, Xedrion had set up a network of guard posts spaced between Roo-Tan’lan and the border. Each guard was linked to the next by a Jharro ring, allowing for reports to be transmitted quickly.

  “Did the men give you any trouble?” Deathclaw wondered.

  “No. Well, the guards were . . . cautious,” Fist admitted.

  Artemus chuckled. “I should think so. An ogre and a giant? That had to be difficult for them to swallow, orders or no.”

  “Ooh ooh! And me!” said Rufus from where he lay, his arms pinned to the cloudy ground by Gwyrtha’s front claws.

  Rufus too! Gwyrtha agreed, looking towards them before Rufus drew up his cat-like rear legs and kicked her off.

  The gorilla-like rogue horse rolled to his feet and laughed, picking up a chair and launching it at her. The chair struck her head, shattering to kindling, but Gwyrtha ignored the blow and leapt through flying shards of wood to tackle Rufus again.

  “There was one Roo-Tan archer that was so scared of Charz he kept an arrow nocked the whole day,” Fist said, wincing as both rogue horses struck the fireplace with crushing force. He didn’t think they could hurt each other in this place but it was certainly distracting. “Maryanne teased him without mercy.”

  Justan smiled. “How did Charz take it?”

  Fist sighed. “You know how he likes attention. He made scary faces at the man and then when we were setting up camp, he dared the man to shoot him.”

  “An ambitious giant,” Artemus said in amusement. “Was he able to goad the poor man?”

  “Lenny encouraged him. He bet the man he couldn’t hit Charz in the right nipple,” Fist said.

  Justan winced, knowing the full piercing power of a Jharro bow. “That doesn’t sound like a very smart bet for Charz.”

  “Charz claimed he was going to catch it,” Fist said.

  “Did he?” said Deathclaw.

  “He didn’t really try, said Fist. I think he thought it would just shatter on his skin.”

  Justan put a hand to his forehead. “How bad was it?”

  “The arrow sunk in to the feathers,” the ogre replied with a chuckle. “You should have seen Charz’ face. And the face of the guard. He thought he just killed him!”

  A hissing laugh burst from Deathclaw’s lips.

  “That definitely sounds fatal,” said Artemus, both eyebrows raised.

  “Charz heals from just about anything,” Justan reminded him, sending the old wizard several choice memories of severe wounds the giant had survived. “The crystal pendant he wears revives him.”

  “Oh my. What a useful spell,” Artemus said thoughtfully, taking a sip of his tea. “I wonder how it was done . . .”

  “The arrow pierced his lung,” Fist said, continuing his story. “I had to use my magic to get it out. It wasn’t easy. Charz’ magic interferes with spells.”

  “What did Charz do to this archer?” Deathclaw asked, leaning forward eagerly.

  Fist shrugged. “He drank some of Lenny’s firewater with him.”

  Artemus shivered. “Nasty stuff.”

  “Last I saw, they were acting like the best of friends,” Fist said.

  Justan smiled. He was looking forward to having his friends around. “How long before you arrive in Roo-Tan’lan?”

  “The guards say we should be there in two days,” Fist said.

  “Good!” said Justan. “I’m not sure why, but the Stranger seemed to suggest that it was important you arrive as quickly as possible.”

  “He wouldn’t tell you why?” Fist asked.

  Justan shook his head. “When I asked, he just said that the reason had nothing to do with me.”

  “Alright. Well, I guess we’ll find out why. I hope it’s nothing bad.” Fist frowned. “Justan? Do you trust Matthew?”

  Justan pursed his lips. “In some ways. I mean, he serves the same master as the Prophet and the Bowl of Souls. And he seems to have regained his master’s favor.”

  “It is hard to disagree with that logic,” Artemus observed.

  “Yes, but he has a different set of priorities than we do,” Justan explained. “He looks at things from a wide perspective and decides what to do based on what he thinks is the ‘greater good’. His opinion of what that is might be different than ours.”

  “I don’t like the way that sounds,” said Fist.

  “I doubt that there is any reason to worry,” Artemus suggested, leaning back in his plush chair and sipping his tea. “After all, is that really any different than what the Prophet does?”

  “John does follow a different set of rules than the rest of us,” Justan admitted. The fact th
at he had gone off to fight some other battle rather than staying to defend the Grove proved that much. “But there is one specific difference. The Prophet would never take away anyone’s free will in order to achieve his goals. Matthew has never acted under that same constraint.”

  “He was called the Stranger for a reason,” Deathclaw agreed.

  “Don’t misunderstand me. I think he is a good man,” Justan added. “But every time I find myself trusting him too much I remind myself of the treaty disaster. When the behemoth attacked, he saved Aloysius, but left Xedrion and Tolynn behind.”

  “Perhaps he could only save one,” Artemus suggested.

  Justan shook his head. “Matthew has never claimed that to be the case. I’ve thought about it a lot and I think he saved Aloysius alone just to prove to Aloysius that he was loyal. In Matthew’s larger view of events, that was the more important thing.”

  “More important than the Protector of the Grove?” Fist asked.

  Justan shrugged. “Maybe he had some bit of intuition that told him Xedrion would survive. But from his perspective, Protectors are replaceable. If Xedrion had been swallowed the Roo-Tan would have chosen a new leader. A gnome warlord, on the other hand, is only born once every thousand years. Aloysius has been his first priority ever since regaining his master’s favor.”

  “So you think he can be trusted as long as we are not in the warlord’s way,” Deathclaw said.

  Artemus took one last sip of his tea, draining the cup. “And our opinion of whether we are in his way or not may differ from his.”

  Their conversation wound down. Deathclaw left, tiring of Squirrel’s constant pestering. Justan let Gwyrtha and Rufus wrestle for a little while longer, finally stopping them after they decided to grow in size and ended up rolling over Artemus. The old wizard excused himself after that.

  Justan was ready to go to sleep himself, but Fist held out an arm to stop him. “Wait, Justan . . . can I talk to you about something else. Privately. Just the two of us.”