Dead Druid: Claire-Agon Ranger Book 2 (Ranger Series)

by Salvador Mercer

  “Why not?” Salina asked.

  Khan looked her in the eye. “Because, if it was him, he would have killed me.”

  Salina pondered this for a moment as everyone watched, the fire merrily cackling in the background as the only reminder of their place in this moment. “You would fight him back, wouldn’t you?”

  Khan frowned and then smiled and then frowned again. “With what? I am a wizard of Kesh without a staff. We draw most of our power from that device. Without it, I could not face my old master and hope to survive. Even with it, I may not live through an encounter with him.”

  “So if we take away one of your staves, then we disarm you . . . figuratively speaking of course,” Targon stated.

  Khan nodded, looking at his two captors in turn. “To a degree, yes. I could still draw from the arcane without it and cause you problems, but I have chosen not to.”

  “What did he just say?” Horace stood now, using both hands on his bow and aiming it at Khan’s back.

  “Point that thing somewhere else,” Targon ordered. “You’re liable to kill one of us instead.”

  “Let the old geezer keep that Kesh in his sights,” Agatha said, now supporting the old Ulathan man, and Horace gave her a sidelong look, not sure he wanted Agatha’s support or not.

  Salina motioned for the others to be quiet with her hand. “Go on, what were you saying?”

  Khan looked now to Dorsun, who shook his head, and Will took a couple of steps away from the Kesh chieftain, ready to draw steel in case the man attacked. Yolanda and Celeste remained on the ground nearby but scooted themselves closer to the porch, all giving Dorsun a bit of distance, and fear once again started to settle on the Ulathans.

  “Do not worry, Dorsun. The Ulathans still fear us, and they have every right to do so.” Khan looked at his companion and then back round the fire, turning his back on Targon and Salina so he could see the cabin and Horace clearly. “You can keep your bow trained on me. I will not hurt you.”

  Targon and Salina stepped around the Kesh wizard and placed themselves between Horace and their captive. Salina looked at Targon, and Targon spoke. “You were planning an escape, then?”

  There was a pause and a look again between Dorsun and Khan before Khan answered. “Yes. However, this was in our first month of captivity, and our sole purpose was to return to your city to confront my old master, not to harm you or your people.”

  Horace chuckled then, addressing Khan from the porch. “But you feared that damned bear, now didn’t ya?”

  Khan looked past Targon’s broad shoulders, stepping toward the fire and Salina’s side so he could see Horace better. “Yes, that bear of yours always seemed to show up when we were ready to make a run for it. After a month, we gave up and decided to bide our time.”

  “Well, that just serves us all to Akun,” Agatha started to complain, lifting a hand and a finger to waggle it from a distance at Khan. “I suppose not being dinner for the brown beast was more than enough for you, then?”

  “Perhaps,” Khan said, looking around. Most of the Ulathans seemed afraid, all except Will, Salina, and Targon. Those three would have to be the first to die if ever the Kesh were to prevail. “But then again, you’ve had a bow on us or we have been securely detained in your . . . your barn. Why the worries now?”

  Targon interrupted any retort by Agatha or Horace. “Enough of this. What I want to know is do we need to worry that one of your Kesh comrades is roaming the woods at night?”

  “No,” Khan answered quickly. “Your bear would have sniffed him out if that was the case.”

  “Then what are we talking about?” Targon asked, becoming mildly annoyed now.

  Khan looked the tall woodsman in the eye. “We are talking about a ghost.”

  “Now he’s making sense.” Horace nodded in agreement with the Kesh.

  “Make up your damn mind,” Agatha shot back at Horace. “Either agree with the Kesh or don’t. Stop your back and forth yapping now.”

  “Don’t you have something to do in the—” Horace was cut off.

  “Where’s Amy?” Yolanda asked, standing and completely forgetting her fear of the Kesh. She started to run toward the edge of the clearing, shouting Amy’s name.

  “Jons, did you see Amy?” Salina asked the young boy as she walked around the fire to kneel in front of him a dozen feet away from group.

  “No, she was right there a minute ago,” Jons said, pointing toward the Kesh cart at the far end of the clearing.

  The group went into immediate action, everyone running from the clearing toward the forest edge, calling Amy’s name. Targon left Khan and ran toward the Kesh wagon, a sick feeling in his stomach. “Keep an eye on him,” Targon told Will as he passed the two men and gave a direct finger point toward Dorsun.

  Will drew his blade and leveled it at Dorsun while Horace stepped off the porch, keeping his crossbow trained on the Kesh wizard.

  “Get inside now, both of you,” Salina said, guiding Jons with a hand on the small of his back and leading him around the fire to pick up Karz, and then she gave her son to Agatha, who dropped a rag she had taken out to clean her hands with. “Take them inside, Agatha.”

  “Yes, my lady,” Agatha said, taking Karz and opening the door with her free hand. “Come along now, Jons, get inside. Olga, Monique, come help me with these boys.”

  “Cedric, guard the door to the cabin,” Salina said. “Don’t let anyone inside until we find Amy.”

  “All right, Mother, but I can search too,” Cedric said.

  The sounds of Monique and Olga’s voices crying out Amy’s name came wafting through the front door where Agatha still held it open. “Now what?” Salina asked, looking back at Agatha.

  “They all done run out the backdoor,” Agatha said, for once at a loss of words, and she graced Salina with a sad look.

  Salina thought for a moment. “Agatha, stay with the boys. We’ll round up the others and you lock the backdoor.”

  Agatha nodded and pushed Jons through the door and followed, letting it slam shut behind her. Cedric looked at his mother for a moment and then saw her motion toward the cabin. “Right,” he said, running around the cabin, looking for Monique and Olga.

  “Salina, bring me a brand,” Targon yelled out from near the Kesh wagon.

  Salina grabbed a long piece of firewood from the bonfire and carried it over to Targon who was searching around the wagon. “Here you go,” she said.

  Targon took the brand and lowered it to the ground, sweeping from side to side and walking around the wagon. “What do we have here?” he said, lowering the brand to the ground and peering under the wagon.

  Salina crouched next to him and looked under the wagon as well. “Oh no.”

  “Call Khan and Dorsun over here,” Targon said.

  “Will, bring our Kesh guests over here for a moment, will you?” Salina asked Will from where she stood next to Targon and the wagon.

  Will motioned with his head, and both the Kesh walked over in front of the Ulathan guardsman. The faint cries of “Amy, where are you?” floated across the clearing, and Targon took a moment to look around while waiting for the other men to arrive.

  “What is it?” Will asked, his voice expressing concern and his eyes never leaving the Kesh.

  “Look under the wagon, all of you, and tell me what I’m looking at,” Targon said, his tone serious as he lowered the brand again and thrust it under the wagon.

  Everyone looked, seeing what looked like two edges of a trap door hanging down a mere foot from the bottom of the wagon. It would not be visible unless someone crouched right next to the wagon as they were doing, or saw it from a fair distance, allowing the angle of their view to see the lowered edges of the doors.

  “Well?” Salina asked as they all stood and faced one another.

  Dorsun looked at Khan, speaking softly. “Master, we don’t know for sure.”

  Khan sighed. “No, I think we do know. There can be no other reason for it. The real ques
tion now is where has the assassin gone?”

  “What did you say?” Horace asked, walking closer from a few feet away, keeping his bow aimed at Khan.

  “My master is saying that an assassin was hiding in the wagon and has now left it,” Dorsun responded, stepping between Khan and Horace.

  Targon walked over to Horace and gently lowered the crossbow so that it wasn’t pointing right at them, and then turned to face the group. “We need to get everyone into the cabin . . . NOW!”

  Will nodded and took a look at Horace who also nodded, letting the larger man know that he’d keep an eye on their “guests.” Will took off for the first person he saw to start rounding everyone up.

  “What about Marissa?” Salina asked, her face full of concern.

  Targon looked around and suddenly felt as if their cries for Amy were far too loud before returning his gaze to Salina. “She’s with Core down by the river. He was hungry and wanted to fish. I can’t think of a safer place for her than with him.”

  Salina nodded, realizing that Targon was most likely right. Core was a formidable opponent, despite being an animal, and he had some sort of bond with Marissa. They all knew the bear would die before allowing her to come to harm, and this wasn’t the first time she had gone off with the bear. The Ulathans were used to it by now. “What’s the plan, then?” Salina asked.

  “One moment,” Targon responded and then walked around the wagon, finally settling on something and following it toward the woods. “Here, come see.”

  Salina, Khan, and Dorsun walked over to the edge of the clearing to where Targon pointed just past a pair of spruce trees. “What do you see?” Khan asked.

  “Don’t you see it?” Targon asked, looking at the others. “Right there, between the two trees.”

  There was an awkward pause, and then Dorsun spoke. “I’m sorry, but there is nothing but grass and a few fallen needles.”

  “Dorsun is correct, Targon. What are we supposed to see?” Salina asked, confused.

  Targon motioned and stepped up to one of the trees, holding the brand right over the grass between them. “Right there, those grass blades are slightly bent to the north, while the rest of them have been sloped to the south, and the needles here and here”—Targon motioned to two almost invisible spruce needles in the grass—“are pushed into the grass as they were stepped on. I followed a set of tracks over here, and the size of the print doesn’t fit any of the children and the weight is lighter than the adults.”

  Targon stood looking at them, and they in turn looked one to another before returning his gaze. “Uh, Targon, I think you are seeing things—” Salina let her words die off as a faint scream came from the direction that the tracks were leading to.

  “What was that?” Salina asked.

  “That was Amy,” Targon said. “Stay here, I’m going after her.” With that, Targon gave Salina the brand, pulled his axe from his belt, and ran into the woods, his tall sleek form disappearing into the dark inkiness of the night beyond the trees.

  “Bloody hell,” Horace muttered.

  Chapter 4

  Fight

  “We are almost there,” the small man said as he led the group of two score mercenaries through the woods. His voice was kept low, and he wore a curious set of glasses that wrapped around his eyes, leaving nothing but a faint reflection on them in the pale moonlight below the forest’s canopy.

  The barbarian made hand motions with his free hand, a huge spear being gripped in his other, and the group fanned out, keeping an eye on their tracker. The small man was using some sort of powerful magic, and Hermes did not approve. He had no warning and no idea how the other man found his group at the edge of the forest a couple of hours earlier.

  “Do you need help, Master Wizard?” Nob asked, his teeth showing in the pale light. Despite the feral smile, Hermes heard the mockery in the other man’s words.

  “Not from you, Nob. Just keep me informed if the barbarian orders anything that I should know about,” Hermes answered.

  The group was moving very silently through the tall wood grasses, weaving in and out of trees, and Nob had come close to Hermes during the march. “I thought you spoke the northern tongue?”

  “The sarcasm is not necessary, Nob. I know enough to tell if a translator is being correct or not, not enough to understand the brute in the middle of the night, deep in a strange forest. Where is this mist coming from anyway?” Hermes asked, looking around at their feet.

  Indeed, a pale mist of fog started to rise from the very ground itself, and the entire scene appeared more than a little spooky to not only Hermes but several of the raiders as well.

  “Damn,” the small man said, pulling his glasses from his eyes and wiping them clean with a rag before setting them back on.

  “What is it?” Hermes came up to the man, realizing he hadn’t asked his name yet, though Kaz the barbarian seemed to know who he was. He was actually expected when they saw him first come through the trees at the forest’s edge not far from the road.

  Kaz hissed and then motioned one more time, his hand in a fist over his head, rotating for a second, and then he lowered it. Everyone stopped and crouched just above the mist.

  “The mist is obscuring the sand that I laid earlier,” the small man said, looking around with his glasses on.

  “What sand?” Hermes asked, gripping his staff tighter.

  The other man looked directly at Hermes and then smiled a wicked grin. “Magic sand . . . Kesh sand,” the other man said as if that alone explained it. With a quick nod, the small man led off further and Kaz followed with one final hand motion below his waist, and the group started off again.

  “Confused, Master?” Nob said, resuming their pace.

  “There is no such thing as magic sand,” Hermes responded, sounding more than a little miffed at being excluded despite his status as a wizard. Well, almost a wizard. An apprentice would do for now, but there should be more respect shown for his position.

  “There is now,” Nob said, fingering the blade of his sword and moving silently behind the barbarian.

  The other small man was leaning way over, looking intently into the mist at the ground below. This gave Hermes an idea, and with a pass of his staff, he muttered the spell of banishment for illusions. “Pokizhi sebya.”

  Looking through the gemstone, Hermes now noticed a strong glow from a bag attached to the small man’s belt. Small glowing grains of sand were seeping out from a tiny hole cut into the bottom of the bag, and the sand spilling out glowed brightly.

  “You see something?” Nob asked, his voice remaining a whisper.

  “Ahh . . . I see everything now. Very smart, very clever, indeed,” Hermes said, feeling pleased with himself.

  Faint sounds wafted over the group as if someone was yelling far away. The barbarian spoke in a loud whisper. “Flemink de houk. Spek zor na krik ahun.”

  “Did he say what I think he said?” Hermes whispered to Nob.

  “Yes,” Nob responded, “we found the peasants, now time to kill.

  “Ah, crap,” Hermes said, gripping his staff and starting to run after the raiders who had charged into the forest when the large northerner had spoken. There seemed to be a faint light flittering in the distance. It looked like the faint sign of a fire out in the open. The Kesh were about to have their revenge.

  “Cedric, did you find Olga and Monique?” Salina asked as she escorted the Kesh toward the cabin. They would hole up there till Targon returned and keep a guard on both doors until the assassin could be found. They needed Core and his nose for that in the darkness of the forest.

  “Just Olga. Monique ran into the woods, and I can’t find her.” Cedric sounded concerned as they walked toward the porch on the cabin.

  Most of group had gathered back around the fire when Celeste screamed as she looked past them toward the forest. There, coming from the woods, were black-cloaked figures with swords drawn, large spears in their other hands. The firelight danced off their faces and th
e shiny steel of their blades. The enemy had found them.

  “Run!” Will yelled at the group as he swung his broadsword at the nearest brigand, clipping the other man’s sword and knocking him to the ground.

  Most everyone started to scream and shout. Yolanda kept screaming, “Amy, my baby,” and the others just screamed as well. Even Horace and Cedric were yelling, and the forest was alive with their cries.

  “Die, Kesh scum,” Horace yelled defiantly and loosed a bolt that took a brigand by surprise, killing the man instantly. Dorsun and Khan graced Horace with an odd look as the old Ulathan loaded another bolt.

  Two spears came flying at Horace in return, and Dorsun ran into the old man, knocking him to the ground as well as his crossbow, saving Horace’s life. There was no time for anything else.

  Khan ducked as another spear flew nearby, and Salina drew her blade and engaged two brigands who had run toward the group near the fire. They exchanged blows, Salina simply doing her best to keep the two away from Horace who lay nearby, scrambling to retrieve his bow and reload it. Salina took a moment to yell at the others. “Get inside! Cedric, go around back and guard the door.”

  Cedric took off running south and around the cabin, away from the brigands who had appeared at the northern end of the homestead. The rear was vulnerable, and Salina hoped that they had enough to defend the site.

  Several other Ulathans tried to run, but screams came from inside the cabin as brigands were pounding on the backdoor. Thomas came out onto the porch with one of the two crossbows that they had originally secured months ago and pointed it at the nearest brigand, one of the two that was fighting Salina, loosing a bolt and hitting the man in the leg.

  The other man dropped to his knee and gave Thomas a look that implied murder. His companion seemed to understand and intensified his attacks on Salina, forcing her to take a few steps back as blow after blow was thrown at her. The wounded brigand dropped his sword and pulled a dagger from his inner jerkin and took aim. The dagger flew through the air, faster than the eye could follow, and, as if by magic, it suddenly appeared stuck into Thomas’ chest, just above his heart.