Deals and Dangers

by Kay L. Ling

  “Are you headed to Elantoth?” Eneff’s voice was surprisingly steady.

  “Eventually. We’re waiting for three breghlin regiments. Their commanders have a lot of Dark gems.” He jiggled the pouch attached to his belt. “Wish I had more, especially the rare ones, but I’m lucky to have these.”

  “The troops that fought the militia—where did they go after the battle?” Eneff asked.

  “Got nervous and took a different road. Why all the questions?” the Outcast asked, his tone turning suspicious. “Who did you say sent you with these supplies?”

  “I didn’t say. It’s confidential.”

  “Ho Ho! Confidential, he says. Well, I don’t like secrets.” The Outcast motioned to his followers, who started toward the carts.

  Eneff motioned, too—a prearranged signal. Kaff and the others drew their weapons. Eneff grabbed the Outcast by the beard, yanked him close, and plunged a dagger into his heart.

  The Outcast’s followers froze, but only for a second, then they charged.

  Eneff yanked the knife free. The air shimmered for an instant, and then the body flew through the air, slamming into a few breghlin and knocking them down. Kaff leapt over the side of the cart. Eneff was lucky. His affinity gem produced energy bursts, Kaff’s heated liquid.

  Kaff glanced at the tree line to see if more breghlin were coming. When he didn’t see any, he fixed his attention on the enemy at hand.

  And turned invisible.

  It might be cowardly, but he didn’t care. He’d never killed anyone before. His knife hand was shaking so badly, he needed every advantage he could get.

  Knife extended, he ran toward the nearest breghlin and stabbed him in the guts. The breghlin screamed and doubled over. The fact that he couldn’t see his attacker was probably almost as terrifying as the wound. Kaff felt queasy, but this was no time for squeamishness. This was war, and war was ugly. He slit the breghlin’s throat and put him out of his misery.

  Kaff looked around just in time to see Xenon run a breghlin through, then turn, sword bloody, to find his next target. Ben and Oliver were running toward two breghlin that Eneff had immobilized. Killing came naturally to breghlin, Kaff thought as he watched Ben and Oliver dispatch their victims. Breghlin were savage by nature and struggled to control their violent tendencies.

  Seeing no one else to fight, Kaff turned visible and followed Eneff, who was walking toward the leader’s body.

  “There you are,” Eneff said, looking back and seeing Kaff.

  Eneff stood over the Outcast leader, studying him with a sad expression as if wishing the Outcast’s poor life choices hadn’t brought him to this end. He bent and retrieved the gem pouch and pocketed it. “Maybe he has something we can use.”

  By now, the sun was setting, and a deep weariness settled over Kaff.

  Eneff looked off into the distance. “Let’s drive a little farther and see if we can find the bodies he mentioned. I’d like to bury them, but we don’t have the tools to do it.”

  “Maybe their clans will find them and give them a proper burial.”

  Ben, Oliver, and Xenon came over, their clothing spattered with blood. Xenon was clutching his upper arm. Blood seeped through his fingers.

  “Here, let me take a look at that,” Eneff said, frowning in concern.

  Xenon pulled off his tunic, and Kaff winced when he saw the wound. The cut, about six inches long, was bleeding profusely.

  “Looks bad,” Kaff said.

  “Could be worse,” Xenon said. “I be cut. They be dead.”

  “Good way to look at it,” Eneff said, retrieving a healing gem from his pouch. “This should speed the healing process, but it won’t do much for the pain.” Drawing its power, he touched the gem to Xenon’s arm.

  “Do either of you have wounds?” Kaff asked Ben and Oliver.

  “I be fine,” Ben said.

  “Just bruises,” Oliver said.

  Eneff put away the healing gem.

  Xenon’s cut had stopped bleeding, but he was still in pain. He winced when he put his tunic back on.

  “Let’s go before it gets any darker,” Eneff said.

  They returned to the road and dragged the tree out of the way. Watching both sides of the road warily, they set out.

  After a few miles, the forest ended. The land on the left dropped away in a steep embankment, and on the right, field grasses and briary weeds covered the ground.

  They went down a series of hills and reached level ground. Finally, Kaff saw evidence of a battle. Large patches of field grasses had been burned away, leaving charred stubble. The air smelled like burning weeds. Bodies littered the ground, and there were probably more among the weeds, further away. Even though Kaff had been expecting this, the sight brought tears to his eyes. Most of the corpses had red sashes over their tunics, marking them as gnome militia.

  Oliver and Ben pulled off the road, and everyone got out of the carts.

  Kaff went to the nearest fallen gnome and knelt by the body. The fellow had blisters on his face and hands, and his hair and beard were singed. Had he been a gem user? Kaff checked the underside of his wrist and found no gem symbol. He closed the victim’s sightless eyes, murmured a blessing over him, and went to the next body.

  This one was a Nope, younger than Kaff. His face was twisted in agony, but Kaff didn’t see any blood or a visible wound. How had he died? A negative energy gem? Kaff closed the gnome’s eyes and repeated the blessing. It seemed unfair that someone so young had died.

  A little way off, a body lay face down. Kaff noticed long brown hair tied back with a thong. A female? With a heavy heart he went to see. Gently rolling the body onto its back, he found a female of about thirty, a gem symbol on her wrist, her tunic soaked with blood. Her face showed no sign of fear or pain. Maybe she had been immobilized when her attacker had run her through.

  “Forgive me,” he said as he searched her clothing. He found no gem pouch or anything of value.

  Kaff didn’t want to look at any more bodies, but the fallen shouldn’t lie on the battlefield unburied and unmourned. The least he could do was close their eyes and say a blessing over them.

  “Kaff! C’mere!”

  Kaff looked around. Ben was a little way off, all but hidden by the weeds. What had he found? Kaff hurried over.

  “We knows this one,” Ben said heavily.

  Kaff sank to his knees. “Morodin.” There was no mistaking the elderly clan leader’s face or those huge bushy white eyebrows. “Why was he here?” Kaff moaned. “He’s old!”

  “He be a gem user,” Ben said as if that explained everything.

  “I know, but he’s too old to fight.” Well, that wasn’t exactly true. Ertz had gone on The Emanicus raid, Kaff reminded himself, but Ertz was a gem master and Morodin was a relative novice.

  “He die tryin’ to stop evil,” Ben said. “Mebbe he want it that way.”

  Kaff blinked back tears. “Yes, but look at him. He’s covered in welts. I’m sure he didn’t want that.” The only gem that produced sores like that was ravilor, a rare Dark gem, and it was disturbing to think the enemy had one.

  Kaff gently removed Morodin’s red sash and tied it around his own waist. He’d brought one to wear when they found the militias—they all had—but it would be an honor to wear this one. Maybe someday he could return it to Morodin’s clan.

  Ben sprinkled a handful of dirt over the body and mumbled a few words—a breghlin version of the blessing for the dead.

  Kaff stood and wiped tears from his eyes. He had to be brave. There would be more deaths, and some might be gnomes and breghlin he knew. He had to accept that. He took a deep breath and looked around, spotting two more bodies in the weeds. Reluctantly, he went to investigate.

  This time he found breghlin. They weren’t far from Morodin, so maybe the brave old gnome had killed them before he died. Kaff hoped so. One lay face down with a jeweled dagger in his back. Kaff withdrew it, wiped off the blood, and inspected the hilt and blade. The gems an
d workmanship were amazing. There was a huge black gem in the hilt—a strength gem. Kaff drew its power, but nothing happened. How odd. He felt nothing at all. The gem didn’t even grow warm. Could there be something wrong with it? Was its energy depleted? He tried to draw power from two other gems. They didn’t work, either.

  Suddenly, the reason dawned on him.

  Kaff turned and found Ben watching him.

  “Nice knife,” Ben said.

  “Here, take it for now. It’s better than the one you have.”

  “But it have gems,” Ben protested, “an’ I can’t use ‘em.”

  “No one else can, either. The knife is gem-bonded.”

  Ben gave Kaff a blank look.

  “That means the knife only works for its owner. Elias gem-bond items with gems, and Tyla gave them to certain clan leaders. Morodin must have gotten this. Someone from his clan may be able to form a new bond with the knife. But for now, you may as well use it.”

  Ben slipped the knife into his sash.

  “The bodies you looked at, Ben. What kind of injuries did they have?”

  “Cuts. Burns. Sores. One fellow, he kill hisself.”

  “How do you know?”

  “There be a knife in his belly, an’ he be holding it. Come see.”

  Ben led Kaff to the body, and it was just as Ben had said. The fellow was still holding the knife embedded in his belly, a terrified look on his face. It crossed Kaff’s mind that an Outcast had done this, and the victim had been trying to withdraw the knife when he died, but weapons were valuable, and an Outcast wouldn’t leave a knife behind.

  “This makes no sense,” Kaff said.

  “Yes it do! Evil Yellow Stone! Remember?”

  Kaff nodded slowly. “Yes, the one Jules tried during the Amulet mission. It made him so depressed he almost killed himself.”

  “Woulda ‘cept me an’ Tina Ann tooked it away.”

  Kaff frowned as something occurred to him. If Emanicus gnomes used the Focal Gem along with Evil Yellow Stone, they could project its suicidal power onto hundreds of gnomes at once, putting a swift end to any battle. It was too dreadful to consider.

  The scavengers had missed two knives, Kaff thought as he took the knife from the fellow’s hand. He closed the dead gnome’s eyes and said the blessing. He couldn’t take any more of this. It was too depressing. “Come on. Let’s go find the others.”

  Chapter 65

  Kaff woke with a start. Eneff was shaking him.

  “What’s the matter?” Kaff asked groggily. The first light of dawn shone into the makeshift tent, illuminating Eneff’s face, and when Kaff saw Eneff’s expression, the haze of sleep vanished.

  “There’s a battle going on. Not far away.” Eneff’s voice was tense.

  Kaff scrambled out of his bedroll and noticed the breghlin were gone. The air smelled faintly of smoke—the same burning weed smell as before. That must be how Eneff had known something was going on.

  Xenon announced grimly from outside the tent, “There be three of them.”

  Three what, Kaff didn’t know, but it was clear by Xenon’s tone that whatever it was, it wasn’t good.

  Kaff ran a hand through his disorderly red hair and followed Eneff outside. All three breghlin were looking at the sky.

  Plumes of smoke rose a couple miles away, and three pythanium circled, dawn’s fiery tones highlighting their black-and-red scaled bodies.

  Kaff’s heart sank. It hadn’t occurred to him that pythanium might join a battle. If they attacked, they would throw the already disadvantaged militias into total confusion.

  “I think those pythanium accompanied the three Outcast regiments,” Eneff said.

  Kaff watched them circling. They reminded him of giant carrion birds. Three regiments, three pythanium. Yes, it made sense. They probably had orders to follow the troops to Elantoth.

  “Ben, Oliver, hitch up the carts,” Eneff said.

  “If we get much closer, our supplies may fall into enemy hands. We should leave the carts here and go the rest of the way on foot,” Kaff told him.

  Eneff considered that a moment and nodded. “You’re right. A few of our forces could come here and carry back the supplies. Put on your red sashes, grab your weapons, and let’s go.”

  They started walking eastward, wading through knee-high weeds interspersed with prickly shrubs. The further they traveled, the stronger the smoke smell became.

  When they had gone about a mile, they crested a hill and finally saw troops below. The wind carried shouts and cries, some of which sounded like orders from commanders. From this distance, it was hard to tell. Kaff took Eneff’s arm, reining him to a halt. “Anyone who looks this direction will see us. I’d better turn us invisible.”

  “Good. We don’t want to draw attention to ourselves. The forces below aren’t our only concern.” Eneff looked up. Pythanium continued to circle the battlefield, high enough that they didn’t become targets themselves. Maybe they wouldn’t fight. Maybe they would simply escort the troops, watch what happened, and report back to The Emanicus.

  “Stay close,” ordered Kaff. He turned invisible and extended the field to encompass the others. “It’s hard enough to maintain invisibility for myself much less all of you. Once we join the others, I’m dropping the field.”

  “I be lookin’ forward ter slittin’ throats an’ bustin heads,” Ben said as they started down the hill.

  “We promise Tina Ann ter bring ya back in one piece, so yer best be careful,” Xenon told him.

  So far, the two forces were keeping their distance. Their numbers were quite evenly matched, and Kaff suspected each side was trying to whittle down the other before closing in.

  The air ignited over the militias, making Kaff jump. A fireball hurtled down, scattering the troops. Field grasses burst into flames. One gnome, too close to the impact, found himself on fire, and a few of his companions tried to keep him from running and becoming a living torch. Finally, they dragged him to the ground and rolled him to smother the flames.

  No wonder the ground was charred at the battle site where Morodin had died, Kaff thought. The enemy had used these same tactics.

  The wind carried the smoke toward Kaff, making his eyes sting. If it was bad here, it had to be worse on the battlefield.

  As they came closer to the action, Kaff saw stones flying toward Outcast forces, but it was more of a distraction than an effective weapon. A few breghlin went down, but they soon got up again.

  Suddenly, a dark cloud formed overhead between the groups, and snow began to fall in a band that spanned twenty or thirty feet. Within a few minutes, it was snowing so hard Kaff felt certain neither side could see the other. Who had created the storm? The militias or the Outcasts? His answer came when the cloud began moving toward the militias. Ranks of breghlin advanced behind the snow, shielded from sight.

  “If only we could warn them,” Eneff said.

  “Even if we ran all the way, we’d never get there in time.”

  Fortunately, a militia gem master must have suspected the Outcasts’ ploy. A deep trench opened in the ground on the militia’s side of the snow wall, and Kaff cheered when the first line of breghlin broke through and fell into the trench.

  Gnome troops dashed forward, and a battle ensued. Trying to fight from within the trench was a great disadvantage for the breghlin. The cries of their wounded and dying were terrible to hear. Some shouted a warning, or more would have come through the blinding snow and met a similar fate.

  The cloud dissipated as quickly as it had formed, and the enemy saw the trench. It was too wide to leap across. They would have to go through it or around it.

  The troops at the brink stood still, perhaps waiting for orders as others marched forward to join them.

  Once again, the air exploded over the militias. Three carefully targeted fireballs crashed to the ground on their side of the trench, driving them back. The enemy gave a triumphant cry and surged forward, scrambling through the trench.

  K
aff led his group toward the rear of the militia forces.

  Oliver grumbled, “The fightin’ be that way.”

  “Gem masters support troops from a distance,” Kaff said. “Remember the ambush? Once Eneff killed the Outcast gem master, we defeated his troops with relative ease. Gem masters have to survive if we hope to win the war. Go to the front lines if you want, but remember, Tyla will need you to defend Elantoth if we can’t stop the enemy here.”

  The breghlin didn’t argue after that.

  When the group neared the militia, Kaff said, “I’ll turn visible and explain who we are.”

  “Who ya gonna tell?” Ben asked.

  “I’d like to find a commander.”

  “There’s a fellow over there with a yellow sash trimmed in red,” Eneff said. “Everyone else has a plain red sash, so he’s probably a commander.”

  Kaff started forward, the others following closely. A troubling thought occurred to him. If the commander recognized Kaff from newssheet images, he would assume Kaff was still a Sheamathan sympathizer. Kaff had fled the O.D. and moved to Elantoth, but no one knew that. The rest of the group would be regarded with even greater suspicion. Eneff was an obvious Outcast, and breghlin typically fought for The Emanicus.

  Kaff jumped at the sound of a deafening bang. Another fireball streaked through the sky and landed, not hitting anyone but setting more weeds on fire. Now that the Outcasts were closer, their fireballs were penetrating further into militia territory.

  Kaff stepped in front of the commander and turned visible while maintaining the field around the others. “It’s okay. I’m on your side,” he said hastily. “A few of us came from Elantoth with two carts of provisions. Are you a commander?”

  “Yes. Jarren. Frentien clan.”

  The air exploded again, and Kaff looked up to see a fireball hurtling straight toward them. He abandoned the invisibility field, and the others turned visible just as Commander Jarren shouted, “Run!”

  Eneff made a two-handed motion, like throwing a ball, and the fireball changed trajectory, flying upward. It rained down sparks high overhead and burned itself out.