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

by Salvador Mercer

  Khan stood and held his staff out in front of him, near the fire, but pointed directly at Elister, who remained calm. Targon, however, reacted differently. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “There were once many disciplines of the arcane that my order studied, but now we are limited to just a few,” Khan said, preparing to cast his spell. “I once dabbled in divination, to see if I could learn what my fellow apprentices were up to. I found a book in my master’s library that hinted at what could be accomplished by a proper diviner, if done properly. Let me try a simple thing to see what I may learn.”

  Targon wanted to protest, but everyone else held still. Indeed, even Elister looked blankly at Khan, no longer threatened by the man’s staff.

  “Pokozhi cebya!” Khan invoked, and a light luminescence wafted from the tip of his staff across to Elister, circling the dead druid like a morning mist. Quickly, Khan held his gemstone tip up to his face and closed one eye, peering through it at the druid.

  “Well, can you see anything?” Salina asked, taking a moment to stand, and Dorsun stood too out of habit.

  “Remain seated,” Khan ordered Targon, who started to rise and then sat back down again. “Yes, very interesting.”

  “What?” Targon asked.

  “I want to try something different,” Khan said, looking at Targon now and releasing his gaze through the gemstone. “Do you have something dear to you and your order?”

  “I don’t understand. What do you mean by ‘dear to me’ and what order are you talking about?” Targon sounded confused.

  Khan sighed and then brought his hand to his chin and started to stroke it, annoying Targon further. “Something that is special to you and would represent . . . let us say nature, or Agon.”

  Targon thought for a moment and then remembered his wood carving of the Clairton bird that he had gifted his mother. “I do. I have a small wood carving of a woodland bird that I gave to my mother for her birthday.”

  “Do not reach for it,” Khan said, as Targon absentmindedly started to release the staff with his right hand to reach into his tunic where the carving still clung from the silver necklace that Monique had given to him months earlier. “Salina, perhaps it would be safest if you removed the item.”

  “You mean Targon’s necklace?” Salina asked, moving around the fire to come up behind the tall woodsman.

  “Yes, if that is what he refers to,” Khan said.

  Salina moved silently, with a nod from Targon, and unclasped the necklace, pulling it out and holding it up for Khan to see. “Here it is.”

  “Place it on that rock there,” Khan ordered, pointing to a flat granite rock near the fire.

  Salina moved to the rock and laid the necklace and carving on the rock and then instinctively stepped back. Dorsun moved to behind his master in order to observe, and both druid and Ranger looked on from their seated position. Khan took a step closer and began to mumble under his breath, waving the staff back and forth over and over but keeping the gemstone tip pointed always in the necklace’s direction.

  After a long time, several minutes at least, Khan stopped his chanting and looked at Salina. “There, I think that will be enough for now. Put the necklace around the druid’s neck.”

  “Are you sure about this?” Salina asked, looking anything but.

  “No, I am not,” Khan answered, too honestly yet again for the Ulathan’s comfort.

  “I will do it, Master,” Dorsun said, stepping around to retrieve it.

  “No,” Khan commanded, releasing his double-handed grip on his staff and using his right arm to reach out and hold Dorsun back. “Let the Ulathan woman do it.”

  Salina looked sideways at Khan. “Is this dangerous?”

  “Yes,” Khan said, eliciting exclamations of shock from both Ulathans, “but it is less so if one with a pure heart performs the deed.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” Salina asked warily, still not moving to comply with Khan’s command.

  “It means that Dorsun and I have blood on our hands, so to speak. The druid seems more accustomed to your culture and perhaps will not react to my charm that I placed upon the carving and chain.”

  “Perhaps?” Salina asked incredulously, her eyes opening wide in shock.

  “Yeah, exactly what sick trick are you trying to pull here?” Targon finally chimed in, restrained to holding Elister’s staff from his seated position on the large log and feeling more than a little helpless.

  “I placed a warding charm on your necklace. It is supposed to work better when the item, or device, is something sentimentally strong to the person who will receive the warding.”

  “But the necklace and carving are mine, not his,” Targon noted.

  “Yes, but the druid has no free items with which I can place the charm except his staff, and I am loathe to do anything to that. It does not seem . . . natural,” Khan said.

  “I can assure you it is completely that,” Elister said, referring to his staff.

  “Go on, Salina, pick up the necklace and place it on the druid,” Khan ordered again, softer this time.

  Salina looked at Targon and Elister. While Targon nodded, Elister didn’t move at all. Gingerly, Salina picked up the necklace and moved behind the druid who continued to sit, looking intently at the Kesh men.

  Salina held the necklace out in front of Elister’s head, ready to clasp it, and turned to Khan for one last time. “You sure?”

  “Yes, go on,” Khan said.

  “Here goes nothing,” Salina said, laying the necklace on the druid, clasping it, and stepping back quickly.

  The transformation was immediate. The druid’s eyes flared white, and the dull ebony glow emanating from him turned lighter and brighter. The forest canopy suddenly was filled with a violent wind as leaves, sticks, and twigs flew in every direction. The companions tried to close their eyes and hold up their hands to protect themselves from the debris.

  A wolf from far away howled in protest, and a sudden crying filled the air as many birds screeched in protest. Small animals and rodents suddenly appeared at the fringe of their encampment and went wild with reckless movements among the trees as if trying to flee something. A dark mist coalesced, swirling around them all before dissipating into the very ground at their feet.

  Suddenly then, without warning, the stone man stood quickly, pulling his staff free from Targon, who was surprised more than anything, and then pointed it at Khan, saying, “Time to die.”

  Chapter 16

  Dungeon

  The day had dawned as usual, and the grueling routing commenced yet again. Only the shadowing threat of being taken away for execution lingered heavily upon the slaves in the brick pits, and this was now tempered by the faint hope of a single bird that had arrived the prior night.

  If there was now any doubt about Dareen’s reputation, it wasn’t visible within the camp, nor amongst the Kesh guards, for that matter either. The bird wasn’t seen upon its arrival, but the guards saw it well enough when it left, screeching and causing a serious commotion that brought nearly all the slaves out of their shanties to look and see what the fuss was all about. Several crossbow bolts tried in vain to shoot the bird down, but all failed as it flew off into the night.

  Many Ulathans warded themselves and then returned to sleep, but by noontime the next day, everyone was abuzz about the rumor that the wood-witch had summoned her flying demon bird to do her bidding. Dareen received looks from awe to contempt, and more than one barrow slave warded themselves after dropping off a load of mud or forms at her table. Even Theobold seemed to be in fear, having somehow heard the news despite being seated right next to Dareen. Gwen refused to look at Dareen, much less speak to her, while Mrs. Stone, the elderly lady that worked the transport line in front of Dareen, seemed to be the only one oblivious to what was going on.

  More than once, Dareen watched as a small group of Kesh brigands stood nearby and pointed at her. Still, nothing unwarranted happened, and she was relieved to finish
the day alive, though a faint plan still held a modicum of hope for her.

  “You know they’ll never let you see your child now,” Estelle whispered to her as they stood waiting to march back to their camp. There were always a few stragglers that held up the procession, and the Kesh guards were barking orders for them to get moving and get in line.

  “I know, that is why I intend to change our plans,” Dareen whispered back, wiping her hands free on her dirt-encrusted apron, which she washed every evening at the rear of the slave compound.

  “What would that entail?” Estelle asked.

  “I had no idea that between taking out Vika and that Kesh guard—”

  “Bricks,” Estelle interrupted, taking a moment to snicker and muffle a laugh.

  “Yes,” Dareen continued, suppressing a smile, “Bricks, that the druid’s bird would cause such a commotion.”

  “Well, what would you expect? It seems that the bird is some kind of bad omen for the Kesh. It riled them up more than we would have thought possible, and ol Wally still can’t believe you talked to it.”

  “You four were supposed to keep it quiet,” Dareen said, referring to Wally, Marge, Estelle, and Inga.

  “How in Agon could we keep that wild beast quiet?” Estelle raised an eyebrow.

  “No, not the bird,” Dareen said, quickly losing her smile and frowning at the misunderstanding. “I meant the fact that the bird even came to us.”

  “Oh, that,” Estelle nodded. “Well, so intent you were on cooing to that bird that you didn’t see the half-dozen folks behind the other shacks. They saw you and it looked . . . well, let us say it looked like witchcraft.”

  “Nonsense.” Dareen snorted.

  “Say what you like, but that isn’t natural, and word spread throughout the camp once many others saw it fly away, and the busy bodies started telling stories.”

  The Kesh guards barked orders, and the group started to march back to the stockade. Wally usually caught up with his wife who worked in the pits, and being a man, he found himself further back in the line as a barrow slave. Once he caught up to her, they usually waited together for Estelle and Dareen who worked the tables, and Inga seemed intent on walking back alone as she always did, hair covering her face and more mud on her body than any other slave in the pits.

  Walter nodded as the women approached, and gave a quick look at the guards who seemed more attentive this time. “That was interesting,” he said.

  “What is it now, Wally?” Estelle asked, giving him a slight frown.

  “They say on the line that Dareen enchanted the bird, ordering it to fly her away and free her from here,” Walter explained.

  “Well, if that isn’t daft,” Marge said, walking with her head down but listening and answering intently nevertheless.

  Estelle snorted, mimicking Dareen from earlier. “And do those fools realize she is still here?”

  Walter scratched his head, dirtying his hair further, not that it mattered much as he was almost bald up there. “I don’t think they thought this through.”

  “Of course not. They be stupid, idle, gossip mongerers, nothing more,” Marge said.

  “Well, we’re certainly not idle,” Estelle countered.

  “Oh, please,” Marge shot back.

  “Enough,” Dareen said, looking around. “I fear our ability to escape has been compromised, but I intend to do something else, Agon willing.”

  “What now?” Wally said rather harshly.

  Dareen half expected one of her companions to scold the man for his tone, but they seemed just as angry and depressed despite her words of reassurance. “I intend to free our children.”

  Estelle perked up at this news. She had a ten-year-old son kept at the castle near the town proper, but her other two companions were older and their children were grown and gone. Estelle looked at Dareen intently. “Can we do that?”

  “Yes, I didn’t have a chance to explain everything last night, but Argyll informed me that the brick caravans return to Ulatha every few days,” Dareen said.

  “So what does that mean?” Wally asked softer this time.

  “It means that if they were taken as slaves and smuggled into Kesh, perhaps we can free them and smuggle them back to Ulatha,” Dareen said, determination in her voice.

  “So the rest of us stay here to die?” Wally asked, looking sideways at Dareen.

  “Quit thinking of just your own skin,” Estelle scolded him.

  “He’s thinking of all our skins,” Marge added.

  Dareen cleared her throat, getting all their attention, and the group remained silent as they filed into the stockade where many of the others were lining up for dinner while the majority sat or lounged around the front, waiting for their food. Dareen motioned to a table far from the center of their prison and as far from the main gate as she could find.

  “Where’s Inga?” Dareen asked.

  The group looked around before Estelle spoke. “I don’t see her. Want me to go find her?”

  “No, but keep an eye out for her. I want her to know what we intend to do,” Dareen said.

  “Don’t you mean what you intend to do?” Marge asked. “I’m surprised we weren’t marched away to their dungeons today.”

  “The day ain’t over yet, dear,” Wally said, reaching out and placing a hand on his wife’s arm in an effort to comfort her.

  “That isn’t very comforting,” Marge said, though accepting his gesture.

  “Wait, there she is,” Estelle said, motioning for Inga to come over. Slowly the girl shambled to their table and sat down much as she had done the day before when they first met.

  “Good to see you, Inga,” Dareen said, her voice soft.

  Inga nodded back. “Am I interrupting something?”

  “No, Dareen here was just explaining her plan. Do go on, please,” Estelle said.

  “Yes, well, that is the problem. I need to get marched away in order for my plan to succeed,” Dareen said, getting the others to look at her and drop their jaws.

  “Are you mad?” Marge asked.

  “I am forced to agree here,” Estelle said. “You can’t do anything from the dungeons. They have strong locks and metal bars. At least here everything is made of wood.”

  “Am I missing something here?” Wally asked.

  “Yes, you all are, but not to worry. Let me deal with the dungeon. Estelle, when did you say the children will visit again?” Dareen asked.

  “Once a week, so if my reckoning is correct, they will be here the day after tomorrow. They came not long before you arrived, so you’ve been here close to a week already,” Estelle said.

  Dareen nodded. “Yes, how time flies when in Kesh.”

  “That’s not the only thing flying,” Wally said. “What did you and that bird cook up?”

  “I know we didn’t have time to discuss this since the guards enforced curfew last night and all, but I did mention to you all the bird is a friend—”

  Estelle interrupted. “We should have had this talk last night if not for Marge shushing us all to sleep.”

  “Well,” Marge shot back, “after getting that girl Vika and her friend sent off to the dungeons, attacking a Kesh guard and having Dareen, the wood-witch, call forth the Kesh demon bird of death, I thought it prudent to call it a night and get some sleep.”

  “All right, everyone.” Dareen tried to calm them down for a moment. “Please let me finish. Argyll—”

  “The bird,” Wally interrupted.

  Dareen looked at Walter again, giving him that I-dare-you-to-interrupt-me-again look, and the man just lowered his head and nodded for her to continue. “The bird . . . has seen much and knows much. Its master is dead, a druid by the name of Elister. I didn’t know the man, but my parents taught me in his ways. Argyll . . . the bird . . . informed me that Ulathans still fight the Kesh, trying to protect our homeland.”

  “What, what did you say?” Estelle asked, and Marge leaned forward.

  “Who is fighting?” Inga asked
, moving strands of her hair away from her face to see Dareen more clearly.

  “I don’t know for certain, except he indicated it was Ulathans.” Dareen looked from companion to companion for a reaction.

  “Did the bird say if the fighters were soldiers?” Inga asked, much more involved in the conversation now.

  Estelle peered down and at Inga’s face through strands of dirty blonde hair. “You’re in love.”

  “I am not,” Inga said defensively.

  “You are too,” Estelle said. “I can see that clear as day.”

  “What does it matter if the young woman is in love or not?” Walter asked. “I want to know what this wacky bird said about our countrymen.”

  “The point is that we have a resistance in Ulatha and the brick wagons carry our labor back into our homeland. If they can do that, then they can carry our children too,” Dareen said.

  “You must have bumped your head again,” Wally said, looking with disbelief at Dareen. “You’ll all be caught for sure.”

  “Let her speak,” Estelle said, thinking of her own child.

  Inga nodded and then looked around before speaking in a hushed whisper. “The Kesh learned of your bird and its visit and they intend to do something tonight.”

  “Why wait?” Marge asked, sighing in the process.

  “They didn’t want to interrupt or risk the production line, did they?” Dareen snapped her fingers, understanding her enemy better now.

  Inga nodded. “They usually won’t take action outside of the stockade. Every time they moved against us before, it was when we were here, after dinner and in the evening.”

  “She’s right,” Wally said. “When we first arrived, there were many such incidents, but they are few and far between now.”

  “Yes, they move when we are most tired and fed, content to sleep or let just about anything go, when we are least likely to put up a fight or complaint,” Dareen said, half to herself, half to her companions.

  “So, perhaps you will get your wish; they will take you to the dungeon tonight.” Wally stroked his head again, scratching at a small clump of caked-on dirt to free it of his scalp.