“Why do you laugh?” Fahtin asked.
“Oh, no reason, really. I knew a man once who thought he was the Malatirsay. Always pointed out where the prophecy referred to him.”
“And what happened to him?”
“I don’t really know,” the blind man said. “I lost track of him when we went our separate ways. Not because of bad feelings, mind you. He just had duties he had to attend to and I guess I did, too. Yeah, good old Rai…good old Red. I miss him sometimes. He was a good friend, and true.”
“Well, we all think Aeden is the Malatirsay,” Fahtin said.
“Why would you be thinking that?” Tere asked.
“The Song identifies him. He’s from the northeast, has died and come back, was split and become one, and some other things. Plus, the creatures are after him. When they show up, they go right for him, not even bothering with us.
“When we were with the caravan, our family, all of the monsters attacked him, only attacking others when they were directly in the way. Oh, and he uses magic that can kill them.”
“Does he now?” Tere Chizzit looked to Aeden “That sounds like quite a bit of evidence, even more than my friend had. Maybe you’re right.”
“We are right,” Raki said. “The prophecy identifies him. Even my Nani, a fortune teller, thinks he is the one.”
“Even her, eh? That is something.”
The grin on the old man’s face was beginning to get on Aeden’s nerves. He was tired of being mocked. “Listen, old man, if you want to help us, then do so. We don’t have time to sit around here having our identities called into question. Will you help us or not?”
The old man swung his head toward Aeden. Those white eyes seemed to pull his attention to them. “Yes, I think I will help you. As to your claim, well, maybe it will become clearer. For the time being, consider me your guide through the forest.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful,” Fahtin said. “Thank you, Tere.”
Aeden watched the blind man’s face carefully. He was hiding something. Aeden didn’t know what, but he intended to find out. One way or another.
Chapter 32
Raki Sinde could tell the difference immediately when Tere Chizzit took the lead. The man obviously knew the forest. Their path seemed to open up in front of them instead of barring their way as it had before. It was subtle, until Raki thought upon it, but traveling became easier. The old man seemed to find ways to work with the forest rather than against it. It was like petting one of the dogs that followed the caravan in packs. They had been petting the beast backward, from tail to head, feeling the resistance to their movements. Now, with Tere’s lead, they were petting it from head to tail, making the action much smoother. The creature seemed to be wagging its tail at them.
“Here,” Tere said to them within an hour of their starting out. He pulled leaves off a nearby bush and handed some to each of the others. “Crush them in your hands like this.” He wrung them and twisted them, causing a pungent liquid to leak out. “wipe it over all your exposed skin. It’ll keep the bugs away.”
Raki wrinkled his nose at the leaves. He didn’t like the smell, didn’t think he would like it being all over him. He watched Fahtin apply it to her skin, though, and was surprised to see the bugs flee from her. And swarm around him. He took a breath, held it, and smeared the crushed leaf juice on his face, neck, and hands. The bugs flew off to find tastier prey.
Aeden handed the leaves back to the blind man. “I have no need of these.”
Tere Chizzit looked at him, a sour expression on his face, but then he appeared to focus on Aeden. His eyes didn’t move, didn’t narrow at all, but Raki got the sense that Tere was looking more carefully at his friend. It made him uncomfortable. That thing he did, seeing without eyes, it was eerie.
“Ah, so it seems,” the blind man said, taking the leaves back and putting them in a pouch on his belt.
Aeden eyed him suspiciously. “Are you not going to put it on yourself?”
“No. I am immune to the insects. I’ve lived here a long time, and they have learned they do not like the taste of me.” He laughed, but Raki saw that, like Aeden, he didn’t have any of the biting bugs around him.
They made good time with Tere leading them, and travel was not nearly as strenuous as it had been. Because of this, they also took fewer breaks. The mood lightened and the friends even joked. Raki thought that they would be out of the forest in no time, and on their way to the Academy to get their answers. Things were definitely looking up.
“A story,” Raki said when they had stopped for the night. The fire was already burning, meat was cooking—Tere had skewered two more squirrels and a large rabbit—and the mood was relaxed. They hadn’t told stories since the first night they were all three together.
“Whose turn is it?” Fahtin asked. “Or would our newest member of the party like to give it a try? I bet you have lots of stories, living out here in the wild.”
“Stories are overrated,” the blind man said. “They do nothing but put thoughts into young people’s heads, blinding them to the realities of life. They mostly have happy endings, and life just isn’t like that. No, I have no stories. Nothing but tales of misery and death.”
The other three were quiet for a time. Aeden finally spoke up. “I think it was my turn.”
“Yes,” Fahtin agreed, eyeing Tere Chizzit, who had slumped down on the ground by the fire, poking at it with a stick. “I think you’re right. What will it be then?”
Raki loved it when it was Aeden’s turn. Stories were a big part of the Gypta way of life, almost as much as music, but even at his young age, he had heard all or most of the stories everyone in the family knew. The People were constantly looking for new tales to add to their collection, but they rarely got them. Those in the villages and towns they passed shunned the Gypta except when they wanted something, such as to be entertained or to buy some of their handicraft.
Aeden, though, had fourteen years of life with the Crows, almost as long as Raki had been alive. He had a wealth of tales that Raki had never heard. He would rather Aeden told a story every night until his store was exhausted. It wouldn’t be fair, he supposed. All the stories from the family were new to Aeden, so it was good to share equally and take turns.
“What to tell, though?” Aeden mused. “I’m not sure. Let me think about it for a few moments as we eat.”
“Tell us another story about Erent Caahs,” Raki said. He loved hero stories, and there was no hero in the last three hundred years as brave and strong as the archer.
“Psht.” The sound came from Tere Chizzit. The man didn’t look up, just kept poking at the fire. “Waste of time. That one never did anything worthwhile in his life. All his running around and he made no difference at all. Better to tell about Annabelle and the magical donkey. Children’s stories can give you more truth than those about the so-called heroes of the world.”
Raki wanted to retort, but he held his tongue. He definitely didn’t like the man bad-mouthing his hero, but his Nani would never put up with him talking back to an old man like Tere.
“Sorry,” Tere Chizzit said, dipping his head. “Go on and tell your story. Don’t let my bitterness ruin things for you. Living alone for so long, it’s become my habit to speak my mind, when I speak at all.” He laughed, a dry, mirthless chuckle. “Just ask the insects and the trees. They’ve heard it enough. I’ll try to keep my opinions to myself.”
Raki saw Fahtin in the firelight as she cast her glance at the blind man. There was sympathy in those eyes. To be honest, he felt bad himself for the man. What could have happened to him to make him so cynical? Losing his eyesight probably did it. He turned his attention to the food as Fahtin tested it and pronounced it ready.
They settled down to eat, Tere Chizzit doing so quietly, not looking at any of the others, Aeden with a pensive look on his face, obviously still trying to figure out which story to tell. Raki ate, anxious for the story, but feeling the tension keenly. He glanced at Fahtin. The skin around her eyes had
tightened, and her mouth was neutral as she nibbled her food. She didn’t look at him; her eyes were only on the blind man.
“Right,” Aeden said as he finished up the piece of rabbit he was eating. He threw the bones he had picked clean into the fire and wiped his hands on his pants. “A story. I know how much you like stories of Erent Caahs, Raki, so how about one of those?” Raki sat up straighter, moving to the edge of the rock he was sitting on.
“In the last story I told, Erent had saved his love, Lela Ganeva, from the slavers, and he had returned her safely to her town of Delver’s Crossing. He told her he was on a mission, and that was the truth. He and Raisor Tannoch left immediately after returning the girls safely to their village, to continue on with their quest.
“You see, he had received word by messenger not one week before that his aid was requested by a minor lord in the land of Telna. It seemed some type of monster was terrorizing this lord’s lands, and he wanted to be rid of it.
“Many brave adventurers had heeded the call, but none had survived the beast. This nobleman was becoming increasingly desperate and spared no expense in getting the message to Erent Caahs. Though he usually didn’t take jobs for hire, this particular situation tickled his interest. The beast was rumored to be a dreigan.”
Raki gasped. He had never heard that Erent Caahs battled with a dreigan. Aeden looked at the boy and smiled, but kept on with his tale.
“Yes, a dreigan. He and Raisor had argued long and hard about the existence of such beasts.
“‘There are no such things as dreigan,’ the Croagh said. ‘No more than there are, or ever have been, dragons.’
“‘I do not agree, my friend,’ Erent said. ‘The world is a mysterious and strange place. You and I know that better than anyone. As well discount that there is magic in the world.’
“‘No,’ Raisor said. ‘I know there is magic in the world. I wield some of it myself. But these beasts, these monsters, there is no proof of them. They exist only in stories and the imagination of those with weak minds.’
“Erent Caahs laughed. ‘Then you must account me among those with weak minds, my friend, for I believe in such things. We will find out, soon enough.’
“So they traveled to Telna to seek out the lord who had sent the message. When they arrived, they were brought before him.
“Erent Caahs disliked him immediately. It was not only his look—he reminded the hero of an eel that had somehow learned to live out of water and had stuffed itself into fine clothes—but his entire demeanor that caused the feeling. He was thin, his face sharp and his hair oily. He sneered perpetually, and it was obvious that though he had asked for assistance, he looked down on Erent, and even more so on Raisor.
“‘Oh, I see you have brought a barbarian with you.’ The noxious man wrinkled his nose and lifted a small box on a chain around his neck to sniff something within, as if to cover up the odor of the two in front of him. ‘I guess that is acceptable. The beast can eat him, distracting it while you kill it for me.’
“Raisor did not like the man any more than Erent did, and liked less what he had said. He went to step forward, but his friend’s hand on his arm kept him at bay.
“‘Your message stated that the beast is killing people and livestock near one of your villages,’ Erent said to the man. ‘It also names the monster a dreigan. Is this true?’
“‘I have said it in my message, have I not?’ the lord said. ‘It has killed all the heroes who have come to do battle with it. It is a formidable beast, indeed. The common folk seem to believe you are a great hero. If you stop it from killing my livestock…oh, and my citizens—it was clear from how he said it which was the more important—‘then there will be gold in it for you.’ He looked the two over. ‘Perhaps you can use it to buy some clothing.’
“Erent Caahs almost struck the man, but held his temper. He would see what this creature was. This slimy minor lord was not worth losing his opportunity to see one of these miraculous beasts, and of helping an entire village in the process. ‘Very well,’ he told the eel. ‘We will solve this problem for you. What is the name of the village and where may I find it?’
“‘It is Chisan’s Draw, and it is twenty miles to the south and east. Return to me with proof of the monster’s destruction and you will have your reward.’
“The two heroes took their leave and headed for the village.
“‘You should have let me drub the arse,’ Raisor said as they left.
“‘Maybe,’ Erent answered, ‘but it is a little thing and he is a little man. The chance to see a dreigan, though; that is not so little to me. Let the pathetic little lord believe he is superior. It causes us no harm.’
“‘Aye, I suppose,’ Raisor said. ‘What was the wee arse’s name?’
“‘Flidian Rump, from the fine old family of Rumps.’ Erent said, maintaining a straight face. Barely. Raisor’s deep bellow of laughter didn’t abate until they were far enough they could not see the lord’s manor house any longer.
“They traveled the rest of the day, made camp just off the roadway, and completed their journey the next morning. When they got there, it was not exactly as they expected.
“‘That pompous arse,’ Raisor said for the twentieth time as they spotted the first village buildings and made for the center of them. ‘We should have strung him up and done all his citizens a great favor.’
“Erent just laughed. His friend was quick to anger, as most Croagh he had met, but he was a good man, a true friend. ‘We’ll do his job and take some of his gold. That will be reward enough. It is for the people that we will do this thing. That, and the chance to lay eyes on something few have ever seen and lived.’
“That caused the red-haired man to stop and think. Then, his great booming laugh echoed through the outskirts of the village as he clapped Erent on the shoulder. ‘Aye, that it is. Another grand adventure, eh?’
“The village of Chisan’s Draw was not large, but neither was it the smallest the two had seen on their travels. A clump of simple homes made up the bulk of it, with a few buildings that were obviously places of trade. Wooden signs swung over the doorways of these with pictures clearly identifying the type of service or merchandise within. An anvil and hammer, a pair of shoes, a barrel, these were all common types of shops. The name Chisan’s Draw, it seemed, was of the area itself and not truly the village, but as with many small communities, the two were one and the same.
“Raisor pointed toward a large building with a sign bearing a tankard overflowing with foam. In blocky letters underneath was the name The Tankard’s Foam. The red-haired man rolled his eyes at Erent. ‘That has to be the stupidest name for a pub I’ve ever seen.’ Erent nodded in agreement.
“The two entered the common room. The establishment was not just a pub, but also had rooms to let. There was a hallway off to the left that had several doors that could be seen from the entry. The common room itself was fair-sized, enough for ten tables arranged in loose rows. More than half of them were full. To the right, a long counter dominated that part of the room, several patrons sitting there on high stools.
“A man stood behind the counter with thinning hair that appeared to have been subjected to high winds. He was a heavy man, his belly straining the buttons of his shirt and causing his apron to hang off him like a flag. Erent headed toward him.
“As he did so, Erent caught sight of a man in one corner of the room, sitting at a table with a few men and many women around him. He disregarded the entire scene as unimportant and addressed the pub keeper when he got within a few feet of him.
“‘Good day,’ Erent said.
“‘Good day to you,’ the man said. ‘Drinks?’
“‘Ale, please.’ The man produced two tankards and Erent threw him a coin as he took his first gulp. ‘We have been sent by Lord Rump to see about the beast that has been plaguing your village.’
“The man looked Erent up and down and then turned his eyes to Raisor. After inspecting him as well, he nodded.
‘You’ve come to help, have you? That’s good. We can use all the help we can get, I figure. Maybe you can join the other hero over there’—he pointed toward the man Erent had seen, the one around whom all the people seemed to be gathering—‘Surus knows it would better your odds. We’ve lost several heroes to the creature already.’
“Erent took a closer look at the other man. He was tall, though just how tall was not evident because he was sitting down. He looked fit. In fact, he was muscular. His wavy blond hair seemed to stay in place even though the man moved and swiveled his head to give attention to several of the beautiful women who were on all sides of him. Even from the other side of the common room, Erent could see the man’s bright blue eyes. He wondered if this hero was as good with the sword propped up against the table as he seemed to be with the opposite sex.
“‘We work alone,’ he said to the man behind the counter. “Where can this monster be found?’
“The pub keeper laughed. ‘Oh, you are one of those, eh? One of those arrogant heroes who believe the beast will fall down and die just because you speak your name to it? Oh, ho, we have seen some of your kind here. They made good meals for the dreigan.’
“The man’s laughing had drawn the attention of several of the patrons and most of the room looked toward Erent and Raisor. The hero had been in similar situations before. He sighed.
“‘Please tell me where to find the beast and we will depart. The sooner you give me the information, the sooner you will be rid of your problem.’
“The man’s belly was shaking so hard from his laughter, Erent could feel it through the floor. ‘Fine, fine,’ he said. ‘Most of the attacks come from the southwest. There is rugged country there, broken hills, rocks, and some forested areas. No one is sure where the dreigan’s den actually is, but it shouldn’t be hard to find the beast itself. Rather, it won’t be hard for it to find you.’ He started laughing again.
“Raisor had been fingering his broadsword, a dangerous look in his eyes. Erent knew they had better leave before his friend did something rash. ‘I thank you. We will get some supplies and be off then.’ He turned to leave and realized that everyone in the common room was looking at him. Including the blond-haired man, who was getting to his feet.
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