Tarah slung her bow and quiver over her shoulder. Then she grabbed her staff and her papa’s sword. As she touched the handle, a flash of memory entered her mind. She felt the sense of justice in Djeri’s heart as he lopped off Mel’s head. Tarah clutched the handle tightly. Then she walked over to Djeri, who had just found and put on his boots.
“What are you in such a hurry to leave for?” he asked.
“I want to kiss you again,” she said, ignoring his question and he didn’t object.
They didn’t pull apart until they heard the uncomfortable sound of a man clearing his throat. Tarah looked and saw a tall man with a long face standing in the doorway, holding his knuckles to his lips. He wore standard-issue academy leather armor and had the largest bow Tarah had ever seen slung across his back.
“Captain Djeri,” said the man with a deep monotone voice. “I-uh, thought you might want to hear what I found?”
“Yeah,” said Djeri, looking embarrassed. He gestured to Tarah. “Tarah, this is Swen the Feather. Swen, this is Tarah Woodblade.”
“Ma’am,” Swen said and Tarah thought he might have one of the most expressionless faces she had ever seen.
“Swen here headed down to West Filgren for me to see what news he could find,” Djeri said. “I needed to know if they were looking for me.”
Tarah frowned in concern. “What would you do if they were?”
“I would probably have to turn myself in,” he said.
“No you wouldn’t,” she replied.
“I can’t have the academy taking the blame for my actions,” Djeri said. Tarah’s frown turned into a glare.
“I don’t think you’ll have to do that,” Swen said. “There was a lot of confusion going on at the docks. All the talk is about a crazy gnome that used to work on the ferries. The tower man said that he suddenly attacked a large group of dwarves, killing most of them, then he ran on and attacked the town watch. He somehow managed to knock most of them unconscious without killing any of them and then he disappeared.”
“I see. And the ferry chain?” Djeri asked, his eyes troubled.
“The man in the watchtower didn’t get a good look at the man who cut it because of all the snow, but he said he thought it was one of the dwarves the gnome attacked. The Town council and the local nobles are planning to meet with House Roma to discus how to repair the ferries.”
“Any survivors?” Tarah asked.
“The westernmost ferry hit the rocks, but everyone survived,” Swen said. “The strangest thing though, was the easternmost ferry. It swung all the way across the river and people were sure that everyone had been killed, but just before I left, they got word that a miracle happened. There was a man on the boat that took charge and somehow with everybody’s help, they kept the boat stable. When they reeled the ferry into the docks, they’d only lost one ferryman and one dwarf passenger.”
Djeri swallowed, both relieved and disturbed at the same time. “Then Shade lived.”
“Somehow I knew it. It seemed too easy for him to be dead,” Tarah said. She chewed her lip. “It sure would be nice if Donjon was the dwarf that fell overboard,” Tarah said.
“We can only hope,” Djeri said. “Well at least our part in this is over. We can find our way across the river and report back at the Mage School.”
“I’m sorry. We can’t. Or at least I can’t.” Tarah said.
“Why?” he asked, frowning.
She told Djeri about how she had tracked Esmine and how the dwarf smugglers had taken the rogue horse away. “She was free for a thousand years and it was my fault she was captured! Just before I passed out I heard the one they called Ringmaster Blayne say they were taking her to her death. I won’t let that happen. I won’t!”
Djeri paced back and forth, thinking about it. He ran a hand through his black hair and finally gave her a decisive nod. “Alright. I’ll send a message to Captain Commander Riveren telling him that I’m taking a leave of duty. He’ll understand. Still, I don’t see how we’d be able to take down Blayne Cragstalker’s group by ourselves. We’ll need help.”
“I’ve been thinking about that, Djeri,” Tarah said. “I want to hire the academy.”
“You want to hire us?” Swen asked, his wooden eyebrows raised in surprise.
“I’ve decided. Tarah Woodblade has been hoarding her money for too long. Now I know what I want do with it.”
“Tarah you don’t have to do that,” Djeri said. “I might be able to rustle up some volunteers.”
“I want to do this,” she said, her eyes intense. “Besides, we don’t have time to try and gather up support. The dwarves are taking Esmine to Alberri and they already have a head start.”
“We have a little time,” Djeri said. “They’re still wasting time looking for the Prophet’s rogue horse. Chances are they won’t get moving until Shade rejoins them anyway.”
“How much money do you got?” asked Swen.
“Six-hundred-fifty gold,” she said and Swen whistled.
“You won’t need that much,” Djeri insisted.
“You could hire a whole division with that kind of gold,” Swen said. “The only problem is we don’t have that many troops at the outpost. The academy is stretched thin right now with the rebuild. Even if we take staff down here to a minimum, we could only spare maybe five men and I don’t know if our captain would go for that.”
“I’ll take all I can get,” Tarah said firmly.
“The captain will have to okay it, but I’d be happy to go with you,” Swen said. “I can also pick out the best of the rest to go with us.”
“Even if he’ll give us all five, that won’t be enough,” Djeri said, frowning.
“If you want to pick up some volunteers real quick, we could head over to Coal’s Keep,” Swen suggested. “Your uncle Lenny’s still there last I heard.”
“Uncle Lenui is there?” Djeri asked in surprise. “I thought he and Bettie would have headed back to Wobble for their wedding by now.”
“Naw, the baby took longer to come than they expected,” Swen said. “Lenny’s been raring to leave, but Bettie’s been wanting to wait awhile.”
Djeri scratched his head. “That’s good news, but I don’t think he could come and help us. There’s no way Bettie would let him.”
“Maybe not, but Master Tolivar and his bonded are there. Since this is about a rogue horse, I’m sure they’d want to help,” a smile split his wooden face. “Especially Willum. He’s still on the academy payroll and he’s been looking for excuses to keep clear of Dremaldria.”
“Willum Oddblade, huh? That sounds like a plan to me,” Djeri said with a relieved chuckle. “Tarah, it sounds to me like you’re going to be my client. Though I hate that you’re spending so much money to do it.”
Tarah nodded thoughtfully as her Grampa Rolf provided her an angle. “I don’t know. It sounds to me we’re still a little short handed. As your client I demand you bring along a tracker.”
“We . . . don’t have any here at the outpost,” Swen said, confused. “But aren’t you-?”
“I agree,” Djeri said grinning at her as he understood. “Well-well, that is a dilemma. Lucky for you I happen to know one the academy can hire.”
“I think I know who you’re talking about,” she replied with a wry grin. “But I’ll warn you now, Tarah Woodblade don’t come cheap.”
Epilogue
Justan grunted, his muscles straining under his heavy winter jacket as he pulled a heavy cartload of rubble up the hill towards the dumping point. “This is a lazy way to train me, Jhonate!”
“I finished my training this morning while you were meeting with the dwarves,” Jhonate replied. She was sitting on top of the rubble as he pulled it, seemingly unconcerned with the cold, her arms folded over her knees. “Besides, if Gwyrtha can do this kind of work, you can.”
“That isn’t fair,” he said through gritted teeth. He was pulling the two-wheeled cart by the two handles that protruded from the front and a leathe
r strap that he had slung across his chest. “She’s a rogue horse. She loves to do this kind of thing!”
I’m helping! Gwyrtha sent as she rushed by them, pulling a wagonload. It was a two horse wagon, but the rogue horse had increased her size so that she would be able to pull it by herself. You’re slow, Justan.
Yeah, thanks. She had been getting better and better at transforming herself and strangely enough, her intelligence seemed to be increasing too.
The workers had been frightened by her appearance at first, her sharp teeth and patchwork mix of fur and scales bringing nightmares to mind, but they had quickly learned she was sweet and a hard worker. A few of them even called out to her and waved as she passed.
The construction of the new Dremaldrian Battle Academy was going faster than expected. The wizards sent by the Mage School were making the cutting and transport of new building stones much easier and the new contract with the dwarves of Wobble meant that they had no shortage of tools and equipment.
The most painstaking part of the process was the removal of the rubble caused by the old academy’s destruction. This was something the wizards weren’t as keen to help with. It was a huge undertaking and somehow Justan’s father had convinced him to be part of the group in charge of the removal. He wished that he had been able to go out on scouting missions with the academy graduates like Deathclaw had.
“Stop griping, Edge,” Jhonate barked from atop the cart. “Deathclaw needs that type of work. You have let your training regimen become far too lax lately.”
“You’ve . . . picked up a bad habit of monitoring my thoughts, Jhonate,” Justan said as he was almost to the top. Of course he knew that meant she’d just make him go down and bring up a new load. “If you don’t stop it I might just have to take off my ring.”
“You would not,” she said, but he could feel through the link that connected them that she was concerned. The matching Jharro wood rings they wore allowed them a connection that was similar to the bond, but it was weaker and its range was much more limited.
“I would not,” he said with a sigh as he reached the top. She was the most self-confident woman he knew, except when it came to their relationship. Then she seemed almost fragile. He didn’t know what she was worried about. Their connection through the rings should have made it obvious to her just how much he loved her.
Fragile, am I, Justan? she sent, and Justan winced. “Once we dump this load, I shall make them stack the next one higher.”
At the top of the hill, the ground leveled off and Justan waited in line for the dump-off point. The wizards had cut an enormous quarry out of the ground in the first two months of the rebuilding process. Looking down into the pit, Justan found it hard to believe that all the rubble would fill it, though the dwarves on the planning committee had assured him it would.
When it was his turn, Jhonate jumped down and helped him back the cart to the edge and dump it out. There were a few tricky moments as he tilted the edge of the cart over the precipice. The ground was icy in places and they had lost two carts over the edge in the last week. Luckily no one had been hurt, but the loss of equipment slowed them down. The carpenters could always build more, but they were overloaded with projects as it is.
“Alright. Back for the next load,” Jhonate commanded.
“You know that I outrank you, right?” Justan said. “If I chose to, I could put you on caltrop duty.”
One of the biggest problems with the cleanup project was dealing with the thousands of iron caltrops that the academy had catapulted into the hills during the war. People and animals were constantly stepping on them, and it happened even more often when they were covered with snow. Most of the workers found scouring the countryside for the sharp metal pieces a nice respite from their heavier labors. Jhonate found the work tedious.
She raised an eyebrow at him. “Get moving, Edge.”
Jhonate jumped into the back of the cart and he started pulling it again. He made it as far as the top of the incline when he saw two familiar figures walking up the hillside towards him. He smiled and came to a stop.
“The longer you take, the heavier that next load will be,” Jhonate warned.
“That load will have to wait,” Justan said, setting the cart down. “We have visitors.”
She jumped from the cart and joined him as he approached the two men. One was tall and broad shouldered, the hilt of an enormous sword rising from behind his shoulder. That was Justan’s father, Faldon the Fierce. The second man was the bigger surprise. He was slighter of build and wore a sword on each hip.
“Sir Hilt!” Justan called. The man smiled and greeted him with an embrace.
“It’s good to see you, Edge!” Hilt said, and as he pulled back, Justan noticed a wide scar that ran from just behind Hilt’s ear and down his neck to disappear into the collar of his coat. He didn’t have that scar the last time he’d seen him. “You know, as much as I have fond memories of this area, the part I miss the least is the winter.”
“Why are you back so soon?” Jhonate asked.
“Where is Fist?” Hilt asked, ignoring her question. “Beth sent me with a present for him.”
“He’s back at the Mage School with my mother,” Justan explained. The ogre couldn’t leave until Darlan was finished with her projects there. “She’s eager to join us here, but they still haven’t filled all the spots on the high council.”
“Wizards,” Hilt said with a snort. “How long did it take the academy?”
“Once the war was over?” Faldon said. “A week.”
“So why isn’t Beth with you?” Justan asked.
Hilt gave an embarrassed laugh, “Well that would be because she’s home with the baby.”
“Baby? That’s impossible considering we just saw you four months ago,” Justan said. Not to mention the fact that Beth was barren.
“We sort of, uh, ‘adopted’ one on the way back to Malaroo,” he said. “She’s sweet as can be. Beth named her Sherl-Ann, after your mother.”
“Wow. I’m sure mom will be flattered,” Justan said.
“I’m planning on sending her a letter about it today,” Faldon said.
Jhonate’s frown increased the longer they talked. “Why are you here?”
“I’m glad to see you too, Jhonate,” Hilt said, embracing her as well.
She patted his back dutifully but when he pulled away her face was serious. “I mean it, Hilt. What does my father want now?”
He grimaced slightly. “We always do seem to meet this way, don’t we? Yes, I am here at your father’s request. Only this time I brought several envoys with me.”
“Envoys?” Jhonate said suspiciously.
“Yes. A few of your brothers and Yntri Yni came with me as well,” he said.
Gwyrtha chose that moment to thunder past. Justan felt a rush of glee coming from her through the bond. She had a rider.
I like this elf! Gwyrtha sent. He’s really old!
Clinging awkwardly to her back and looking concerned was Yntri Yni. Like the last time Justan had seen him, the ancient brown-skinned elf didn’t seem to feel the cold. He wore nothing but his loincloth and the bow and quiver that hung over his shoulder. He was making a rather frantic series of clicks and whistles as they rode past, but Gwyrtha continued on down the hill without stopping.
Hilt watched them go by with a bemused expression on his face. “Your brothers are back at the camp getting some proper winter gear. I warned them about the winter, but they figured if Yntri could handle it, they could. Did you know they had never seen snow up close?”
“Why are all of you here?” Jhonate said. “I am not going back home until my contract is up, I told you that when you left last time.”
“Your father disagrees,” Faldon said. He gave her an apologetic smile. “He sent his delegation here with an offer. He wants to create an alliance between the Roo-tan and the academy. They arrived late last night and have been meeting with the council all morning.”
Jhonate gave
Hilt a glare for not telling her. “An alliance?”
“That’s great news.” Justan said. An alliance with their people would make his marriage to Jhonate happen so much easier. But his connection to Jhonate told him that her thoughts weren’t nearly so enthusiastic. “Isn’t it?”
“As part of the agreement, two of your brothers will stay here with us and you will return to your father’s side,” Faldon said.
“Oh,” Justan said, understanding her anger.
“I will not allow him to break my contract,” Jhonate said with a glower.
“He’s not breaking anything. The council is,” Faldon said. “I’m sorry, Jhonate, but the alliance is too valuable for us to throw away just because you want to stay for a few more months. Your contract has been ended as of this morning.”
“We leave in two days,” Hilt said. He looked at Justan with something akin to pity in his eyes. “Xedrion is also quite anxious to meet the famous Sir Edge his daughter is betrothed to.”
“That’s good,” Justan said nervously, feeling Jhonate’s worry rising. He put an arm around her. “That means we won’t have to wait so long to get married, right?”
“Perhaps,” Jhonate said. She pointed to Hilt’s neck. “Did Father do that to you, Sir Hilt?”
“This?” Hilt said, reaching up to trace the scar with his fingers. “Well, let’s just say that Xedrion was none too happy with me for okaying your betrothal.”
Jhonate’s face paled. “Father is that angry?”
“He wounded you?” Justan said, concerned. Hilt was the best swordsman he had ever met. If he could do that to Hilt . . .
“It’s alright now,” Hilt assured them with a hesitant smile. “He and I patched things up.”
“That’s something I wanted to talk to you about, son,” Faldon said, placing a hand on Justan’s shoulder. “When you get there? Try not to get killed.”
Tarah Woodblade Page 33