Estelle nodded, grabbing Dareen by her shoulders and looking intently into her eyes. “We heard of you and what you did on Black Dawn. We need you to do the same here.”
“Excuse me?” Dareen said, confusion apparent in her voice and on her face. “What, pray tell, is Black Dawn?”
“That is what we call the day when the Kesh took us. Dressed in black, they were, and they attacked at dawn. You’ve been out of it for quite some time, but we heard about what you did to Toothless and they say you have magical powers of your own. We have need of those powers. Will you help us?” Estelle said.
Dareen looked at the woman intently, not seeing any sign of joke or jest. “What in all of Agon gave you the idea that I have magical powers, and who’s saying such things?”
Estelle gave Dareen a look of surprise, and then her face went stern and her words came quickly, in a low tone. “The Kesh themselves speak of it. They oftentimes tell the tale of how you freed your children and attacked a squad of their soldiers, killing several of them with your magical powers. They kept you drugged in the dungeon to heal, as the wizards here wish to learn more about the magic that you used.”
Dareen spoke back in a hushed tone as well. “I didn’t kill anyone, though I did make that one brigand toothless, at least in the front teeth.”
“And your children?”
“I freed one child, a son of mine who escaped, and he vowed to return to us, but I fear the river took him,” Dareen said. “What do you mean I was drugged?”
“Shush, we need to go now,” Margaret said, looking back and hearing Walton talking to someone outside the door.
“Will you help us or not?” Estelle asked, desperation in her voice.
“Help you to do what?” Dareen asked.
“Escape,” Estelle said.
Chapter 8
Farewell
Targon had allowed Khan to read Cedric’s book with Cedric’s permission. The decision wasn’t that acceptable to the young man, and he sat on the porch, watching Khan closely to ensure the Kesh man didn’t steal, destroy, or who knows what with his precious book. Dorsun and Khan sat nearby on the grass, backs against the wall of the cabin, just off the porch.
Salina had rounded everyone up except for Will. He was lying on the makeshift bed that Targon had used near the fire, too weak from loss of blood to move. Agatha had tended to him as best she could and had finally come around to utilizing the Arella plant, though it took her most of the summer to agree to the idea. A small supply was kept in the garden growing, and Monique had culled it earlier that day.
Targon had watched in silence as Core stood, shaking himself gently, and limped into the small barn, followed silently by Marissa who shut the door after they entered. The large brown bear had a serious limp in his front left leg, and neither bear nor child bothered to look or say anything to anyone as they left.
The day was interrupted only by a small funeral service held for Celeste and Thomas. The pair was placed in their clothing that had been cleaned as best as Emelda and Olga could do, as they brought water up from the nearby Bony Brook, heated it, and washed their dead companion’s clothing and bodies from inside the cabin.
Dorsun was enlisted to help Targon carry the bodies, and they laid them in the graves that Targon had dug next to his grandparents. The area was right at the north edge of the clearing, actually a dozen feet, if not more, inside the tree line, but to the east, a couple dozen yards of where the main battle had taken place.
Targon looked over at the five small mounds just visible past the brushes and trees of the forest that marked the location of the dead brigands from earlier that spring. So much death, he could only shake his head and stifle a yawn.
“Do you have the stones I asked for?” Salina asked, and Monique nodded, handing two smooth, round stones to the noblewoman. Holding them in her hands, she held them above her head in front of her, speaking, “From Agon you were born and to the Great Mother you shall return.”
Grasping a rock in each hand, she leaned down between the head of the two graves and gently placed a rock on the forehead of each body. Both seemed at peace, as if they were simply sleeping, though the paleness of their skin was most noticeable.
“Bloody hell,” Horace said aloud, warding himself and taking a step back. The stones glowed slightly, illuminating the darker interior of the grave with a pale, white light.
“Mother have mercy,” Agatha exclaimed, and indeed, all the Ulathans except Targon made the sign of warding.
“How did you do that?” Khan asked Salina softly, looking from grave to woman.
Salina stammered, “I don’t know. I have done this before during services of several of my husband’s troops, but never have I seen this before.”
“So it was not of your doing?” Khan asked.
Salina shook her head and then nodded. “I gave the standard prayer of Astor, but that is all.”
“Perhaps we need to cover their bodies before the stones do something else,” Horace suggested.
Several nodded, but Salina spoke to the contrary. “Not yet. I do not fear the light, though it surprised me greatly. I will take it as a sign of a good omen. Astor or Agon has smiled upon us here and graced us with her presence.”
“Ah, I beg your pardon, me lady, but do you think that is a good idea?” Agatha said most formally and completely out of her character.
“Yeah, what’s gotten into you?” Horace asked. “My lady,” he added for good measure.
“Mommy, I’m scared,” Karz said from Salina’s side, tugging at her dress, and Salina picked him up and held him tightly.
“No need for that, my love,” Salina said to him, ignoring the others for a moment. “Everything will be all right.”
There was silence for a moment before Jons asked, “Where’s Marissa and Core?” The children had no problem referring to the large ursine by name; only the adults seemed to think of the bear as a wild animal, despite its help.
“Marissa and Core are resting in the barn. Best to let them be for now.” Targon looked to the structure.
“Will they be there all night?” Jons asked.
“They could be,” Targon answered.
Another slight pause, till Horace spoke. “I’d fancy seeing them Kesh try to get that girl and her bear from out of there.”
All eyes turned to the two Kesh as they looked from the barn to the others. Khan responded for them as he usually did. Dorsun was the silent type. “It is good weather and more than time now for us to sleep under the stars.”
Another pause, and then Agatha spoke. “Brutal, bloodthirsty killers they may be, but they’re not stupid, that’s for sure.”
A few chuckled softly, almost imperceptibly, almost forgetting their surroundings and the reason why they were there. Khan brought them back to focus with his words. “I suggest you finish the burial. The Handmaiden of Agon has made her presence known through Salina, and I suggest you honor your dead and not break with tradition.”
“You seem to know of our customs and traditions,” Targon stated, though those who heard his voice didn’t know if it was a question either.
“I know what I know and this, at least, is obvious. You cannot deny the death stones,” Khan said, nodding toward the still illuminated stones on the forehead of each body.
“Dorsun?” Salina asked.
Dorsun nodded, and with a look at Targon, who also gave a nod, the Kesh chieftain took up the lone, wooden shovel and started to finish the act of burial for the Ulathans. The dirt covered their bodies slowly, and several members of the group closed their eyes, while some others started to cry softly.
When the deed was finished, the group said their final farewells and broke, each heading to their own duties or places of rest. Targon lingered a bit to discuss the situation with Salina.
“Is Will that bad off?” Targon asked.
“He is. I fear the infection will take him if he doesn’t die first from the blood loss,” Salina answered, still holding Karz wh
o was starting to sleep on her shoulder.
“Do you want me to take him?” Targon asked, hands outstretched toward the young boy.
“No,” Salina said, “but can we sit by that tree there?”
Targon looked to where she pointed and led the way. The tree was on the far west side of the clearing, the very one that they had discussed earlier that day.
“Why here? I think the Kesh bodies are here,” Targon said.
“I know.” Salina looked around and then found a suitable place to sit and have her back against the tree. “I felt a pull to come here, to this very tree, and I can tell you the Kesh aren’t here. They’ve been . . . moved,” she finished, sitting gently with Karz now soundly asleep on her chest, head on her shoulder.
“All right,” Targon said, sitting next to her and noticing their vantage point. It was perfect for seeing the cabin, both sides of the cabin, the front porch, and away, far to their right in the distance, Bony Brook. The tree seemed to be located at a very strategic location.
They sat in silence for a time, and Targon watched as Khan resumed his reading of the red leather book, guarded closely by both Cedric and Horace, though the crossbow now sat at Horace’s side and the old man actually looked like he was sleeping with his chin on his chest and his legs kicked straight out along the porch. Dorsun sat docilely next to Khan and listened intently as Khan spoke to him occasionally.
“I hate to pry, Targon, but it was hard not to hear. Is it true what the Kesh said?” Salina asked, not looking at him, instead focusing her gaze on the others in front of the cabin.
“Who heard?” Targon asked, looking intently at the woman.
“Everyone heard,” Salina began, returning his gaze. “Don’t take it the wrong way. We were as shocked as you were, and we understand that what your brother did, or may have done, isn’t a reflection on who you are or what you’ve done, especially for us.”
Targon sighed, remembering the heated conversation that he’d had with Khan. Targon had wanted details of the accusation, and for some very long moments, he had thought the Kesh was trying to confuse him or distract him from some sort of other devilry. Then, every time he wanted to know a detail or two, Khan was obsessed with the book. It was a messy conversation, argument even, but they got through it finally.
“If what the Kesh says is true, then my brother is the main reason why this happened to you and your people,” Targon said, his voice faltering.
“Our people.” Salina placed a hand on Targon’s knee and smiled at him.
“I appreciate the gesture, but the fact remains that my brother may have been a traitor,” Targon said.
Targon had learned that his brother may have indeed lived through the ordeal, but where he was now and why he would have done such a thing were beyond Targon’s reasoning. The steely cool gaze from Dorsun was what tilted the proverbial scales, so to speak, and Targon found himself almost accepting what Khan had said. Neither Kesh appeared to be lying, nor was there jest in their voices.
Salina stroked Karz’s head, adjusting the boy slightly so that they could both breathe easier. “Well, if it is true, then you at least have your brother alive and perhaps you will have a chance to ask him about this and learn what his motivation was.”
“What does it matter now anyway? My mother and sister are gone, my brother may as well be dead considering the information I have learned today, and my father and grandparents have long since returned to Agon’s bosom,” Targon said, dejection and despair now in his voice.
“I’m sorry,” Salina offered.
Targon hung his head for a moment and then looked up suddenly at her. “Wait a second.”
“Yes?” Salina asked.
“I said my father was dead.”
“Well, yes, you said that he and your grandparents had returned to Agon’s bosom.”
“That’s it.” Targon snapped his fingers.
Salina looked at Karz to see the sound disturbed his sleep, and then returned her gaze to Targon. “This has something to do with your father?”
“Yes, at least I think so,” Targon began, lowering his voice a tad as he noticed Dorsun looked away from him and back to Khan. “You see, my father died seven years ago at the hands of these same brigands. Malik blamed the king for this and said it was the king’s failure to protect his citizens and that the main role for a king to play was in defending his subjects.”
“So he doesn’t blame the Kesh?” Salina asked.
Targon thought for a moment. “It’s been years since we discussed it, but yes, of course he blames the Kesh. He has no love loss for them, but if you wanted to remove a king, especially one who you blamed for the death of your father, how better to do it?”
“Oh my,” Salina said, comprehension dawning on her face. “So he used the Kesh to unseat the king and obtain his revenge.”
“It would appear so,” Targon said.
“But why would he sacrifice the entire kingdom of Ulatha, not to mention his own family?” Salina asked.
Neither had noticed Khan walking toward them, and that was indeed rare for Targon, so focused he was on his brother and the reasoning behind the betrayal. Khan arrived, book in hand, and nodded before speaking. “He did not knowingly betray the kingdom, only the king. He was double-crossed by my mentor, Ke-Tor.”
“Why didn’t you say that earlier?” Targon stood to face the young wizard.
“I tried, but you were in denial and focused on whether or not your brother could have done what I said he did.”
“Shhh, both of you,” Salina said, looking to Karz.
Both men looked at her and then took a few steps away so she could still hear, but not close enough to disturb her sleeping son.
“You didn’t share that part with me,” Targon said, his voice sounding hurt.
“We never made it past the actual assassination of your king,” Khan replied, and Targon noticed Dorsun approaching. Both Cedric and now Horace were alert as well.
“So he only betrayed the king and not the city?” Targon half asked, half stated.
“Yes, though I would say Korwell was more a town than a city,” Khan said.
Targon thought for a moment and then motioned the two men closer to Salina again, who seemed to be tiring of the subject. “Salina, I want to take them back to the hunting blind. We can leave tomorrow. Do you have any objections before we leave?”
“What for?” Salina asked, looking up still from her seated position.
“Well, Khan here tells me he can use the other wizard’s staff, but it has been damaged severely during the struggle that occurred last night. Without a staff, a wizard is seriouslyweakened.” Targon looked at Khan.
Khan nodded. “Correct, that is one of the keys to defeating a Kesh wizard or mage. You must disarm him before he can kill you.”
“So?” Salina continued, not following the logic here.
“So,” Targon said, looking back to her, “I hid Khan’s staff and magic ball in the hollow of a tree trunk back near the hunting blind. Well, actually, not far from it. I intend to give those back to him.”
Salina narrowed her eyes a bit before speaking. “Targon, I know that we have been kinder to our Kesh guests than the others and I see that they assisted us last night when they could have done otherwise, but is it wise to actually rearm a Kesh wizard who resides amongst us?”
Targon thought for a moment, and both Khan and Dorsun looked at each other for a moment before training their gazes on the tall woodsman. “Khan, will you pledge to fight for us and to right the wrong that has been done to Ulatha?”
Khan looked intently at Targon, and then he took a long moment to take in Salina’s gaze and then looked at Dorsun who finally nodded. Returning his gaze to Targon, Khan spoke. “Give me my staff and critir and I will make my mentor pay for what he has done.”
“And Ulatha?” Targon pressed, sensing some sort of treachery in Khan’s words.
“I swear I will right the wrong that I and my country of Kesh ha
ve done to your realm of Ulatha and restore your people to their rightful place here again, or die trying,” Khan said.
“Dorsun. What will you swear to?” Targon asked the Kesh chieftain.
Dorsun looked to Khan first and then back to Targon. “I swear to protect my master, Khan, and fulfill his pledge even at the cost of my life.”
“Good enough for you?” Khan asked Targon.
“Yes,” Targon replied, satisfaction in his voice.
“Not good enough for me,” Dorsun said, surprising the others.
“Oh?” Khan asked, looking at his bodyguard and the man whose life he decided to save some months ago.
“Yes,” Dorsun continued. “I also pledge to return Kesh to its proper place and see to it that the High-Mage is replaced with a ruler fit for our country, one who will rule our people with honor and restore our civilization to greatness.”
“And who would that be?” Salina asked.
Dorsun just looked at Khan, whose jaw dropped, and the voice of old man Horace wafted across the clearing. “Well now, if that just ain’t the bloodiest hell, I don’t know what is.”
“You are quite right, Horace, quite right, indeed,” Salina said.
“Tell me why in the abyss I should believe that?” Bran asked, looking across the small fire at Malik and biting into the small piece of meat on a spit that he had been given by the rebellious traitor.
The men found themselves in a small cave with a small fire that had a rabbit cooking over a spit. The fire gave off almost no smoke, and what little it did left the cave by a small crack in the ceiling that obviously exited somewhere to the outside.
Bran had almost not walked along the narrow cliff face edge in order to reach the cave entrance. He was sure he’d fall and break his neck. The ledge was barely a half-foot wide, and he had to shuffle along it to reach the small entrance. No wonder they had never found the young scout.
“Believe what you want to, Captain. You asked the question and I gave you an answer. Don’t ask if you aren’t prepared for what may come,” Malik countered, sitting with his back to the rear of the wall and facing Bran.
Dead Druid: Claire-Agon Ranger Book 2 (Ranger Series) Page 11