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

by Salvador Mercer

  “Who gave the order for her execution?” Alister asked.

  “Dax, the commander of the stockade and production pits,” Cruxes said.

  It became apparent that Dax seemed to know about Khan’s situation and didn’t believe or didn’t care that Ke-Tor could be involved. No, most likely he didn’t know that Ke-Tor’s name was invoked by Khan, otherwise the commander would be bordering on suicidal. Finally, self-preservation kicked into high gear for the wizard’s apprentice.

  “Counter his order,” Alister said, looking now at Dareen. “See to it that she is transported to Keshtor for processing. How soon can she be moved?”

  “The next caravan departing Ulsthor will be in three days. Where is she to be taken to in Keshtor?” Cruxes asked.

  “See to it that she finds her way to the Onyx Tower. Ke-Grenson will ensure that she makes her way to the order’s laboratory for study,” Alister said.

  “Yes, Master. Is there anything else?” Cruxes asked, giving a traditional bow of the head in deference to the wizard caste.

  “Only one thing more,” Alister said, looking to Grimer and wrinkling his noise. “See to it that the guard here gets a bath immediately. He stinks to high heaven.”

  Dareen snorted and sniffled a laugh, causing the Kesh men to look at her for a moment before the wizard departed with the other guard, leaving Cruxes with Grimer. “You heard the master. Find yourself some soap and go to the bathhouse immediately.”

  “He can’t be serious, can he?” Grimer asked, sounding upset.

  “I can assure you he is. Now get to it, man,” Cruxes said, whirling and departing after the other two.

  “Ah, yeses, Commander, I’ll get right to it, but what is a high heaven?”

  Cruxes answered without turning around. “I don’t know, but it sounds like a stinky place.”

  Grimer had other Kesh guards who worked for him in keeping some order and routine to the dungeon. Most of them seemed to suffer from the same general lack of hygiene that the fat Kesh chief of the dungeon suffered from, mainly dirtiness. Dareen was slowly starting to understand that the Kesh had more than just the two castes, wizards, and brigands. There seemed to be actual castes of brigands that were distinctly marked to either a Kesh proper or someone with a discernible eye.

  Grimes reminded Dareen of the lowest brigands, used for the dirtiest of jobs and for raiding parties. They were uneducated, dirty, rather profane in their language and speech, and dumber than doornails with the exception that they understood to respect the higher castes, especially the wizards. She wasn’t sure how she could exploit this yet, but she noted it and thought it may be important.

  If Dareen understood correctly, then she would actually live for another few days, long enough to enact her plan, or at least die trying. She literally had two nights and one day with which to work with. Her first goal was to see if she could get out of her cell or not. The dull metallic iron comforted her and gave her hope, but having her cell right across from the guard’s cubicle and what literally amounted to their work space meant she was under near constant supervision.

  She was surprised that no one bothered to frisk her, but she understood that once in the slave stockade, they were expected to be clean, so to speak. Either that or the dungeon guards were more lax in their security methods. Either way, she had to figure out how to get the guards’ eyes from off of her. The one who just relieved Grimes was sitting on the wooden desk, one leg resting on it and the other on the floor, staring at her, twirling his own set of keys that were in his hand, and he looked like he wasn’t enjoying his shift too much for her comfort.

  Standing, she walked over to the gate. “So what’s your name?”

  “Who, me?” the young guard asked, ceasing his key twirling.

  Dareen grabbed the iron bars and tried to be as seductive as she could. Her problem was that the other guard was much younger than Grimer, and she was twice his age, if not more. “Yes, you. You seem too young and handsome to be a Kesh guard. What do you really do around here?”

  The guard looked at her as if she were crazy, and Dareen began to despair until the man spoke. “I’m actually just fillins in for these dumb chaps. I normallies work the kitchen line up tops, but that damn Grimer is always making me work for his fat arse.”

  “He is such a rude man, I would agree.” Dareen used a hand to move the hair off her eyes, smoothing it back behind her ears. She brushed off her dirty dress, managing to hike it up somewhat as she put her right leg through the bars as far as it could reach, revealing her milky white skin. “Why did he make you come down here?”

  The other man seemed to be staring at her leg. It would appear he wasn’t taught much in the way of manners, but that was fine for Dareen for now. He looked up at her before speaking. “The dirty pig always comez up and steals da leftovers, ya know?”

  Dareen covered her mouth in mock shock. “You mean he takes your food from you?”

  “Well, he takes what we don’t eatz and is supposed to go to you slaves,” the guard said, making a frown as his eyes left hers and gazed up at the ceiling as if he were looking at where the man would be right now, or he was remembering one of Grimer’s thefts. “Dats why youz are sometimes hungries. He takes and eatz what you needz.”

  Dareen nodded. “That pig, he should learn to stay in his place and remain here and be thankful that he has any food to eat.”

  “Rightz, that’s what I’z been sayings to the kitchen boss, but he no believe me,” the guard said, returning his gaze to Dareen before dropping his eyes again to her leg.

  “So when he’s done, does he come down here and drink from that water keg?” Dareen asked.

  The guard’s eyes darted to hers, and he looked confused. “What kindz of question is dat?”

  Her confidence seemed to wax and wane from one second to another. Quickly she improvised. “Surely a fat pig like him won’t drink just water. He has to have a stash of something good to drink.”

  “Ah, very sly for a slave, you are.” The guard nodded, looking at the desk and then moving around behind it. He opened a bottom drawer and showed her a dirty wine flask with an unknown symbol branded into its leather. “He’z not supposed to have dis, but he thinks we don’t know.”

  “I see, a nice little stash of wine for dessert after he raids your kitchen,” Dareen said.

  The guard’s expression turned to confusion again. “What wine? Dat is forbidden. Death the masters will give us if we’z drunk on duty.”

  “Then what is it?” Dareen asked, her voice changing from sultry to normal, breaking up her attempt at seduction, which wasn’t going very well for her, anyway.

  “Juice,” the man said, as if she should have already known. He put it back and then returned to his position in front of the desk, this time leaning back on it and keeping both legs on the ground. “Hey, what’z you in here for, anywayz?”

  “Little ol me?” Dareen asked. The man nodded, and Dareen continued. “I hit a guard on the head with a brick.”

  The other man’s eyes went wide and then he started to laugh. “Dem fools, always thinking they’z better than us. What did da fool do to you?”

  Dareen withdrew her leg now that the other man seemed not to notice it any longer, and she kept her voice normal, not liking the sultry image she was trying to portray. She had imagined herself to be like Inga, but in her heart, she knew she was trying to sail without a boat. “The fool tried to take my dinner rations.”

  It was a complete lie and didn’t sit well with Dareen, but desperate times called for desperate measures, and she now changed tact, trying desperately to connect to this kitchen worker turned part-time guard. Mentioning the fact that her rations were stolen, or attempted to have been stolen, seemed to work.

  “Dat no good fool . . .” he said, shaking his head.

  “Then I was thrown in here, and that fat pig Grimer, he stole my dinner rations as well, so I’ve had no food to eat for the entire day.” Dareen ignored breakfast, hoping he wouldn�
��t notice, and told another lie about Grimer and her food, though if she didn’t receive any, then it would be true.

  The other man hit the table. That one touched a nerve, Dareen thought to herself.

  “I shoulda known dat da fat fool would do dat to a pretty gal like you,” he said.

  Dareen thought that maybe she had given up on the seductress role too easily. She wanted to ask him if he really thought she was pretty, but then realized how foolish that was and it jeopardized her objective. Quickly she refocused on her main goal. “You should steal a peek at the fool and maybe even hide your leftovers. He doesn’t deserve them, anyway.”

  The young man nodded and then frowned, tilting his head to look at Dareen. “I can’t be sneakin’ up tops like dat. I’ll get thumped for sure.”

  “You could bring me back something to eat,” Dareen said, sounding hopeful and pathetic at the same time.

  “Why’z would I wanna do dat?”

  Dareen realized the man was Kesh; sympathy, thoughtfulness, or even kindness was most likely foreign to him. Revenge, payback, and holding a grudge were, more than likely, his strong suite, so she changed tact immediately. “You could bring some wine down and put it in his flask. He’d get in trouble if he was drinking on duty.”

  “Who would know?” The young guard looked down at the desk where the flask was stored out of view.

  “The wizard was just here . . . I mean, Master Alister was here. He talked to me and said he’d return this evening. I will tell him that fat man Grimer was drinking on duty.”

  The other man eyed Dareen carefully before responding. “You’d lie to the master?”

  “If it got Grimer in trouble, yes.”

  Now that was something the Kesh guard seemed to understand, someone lying, as it appeared to be a common Kesh trait. The other guard took a look around and then pointed a finger at Dareen as he stood. “You keep me outta dis, and no making any funny moves.”

  “I will speak only of Grimer, and what can I do locked in this cell?” Dareen lifted her manacled hands. “These will keep me safe and sound for you.”

  The other man didn’t seem to be so sure, but he grinned and headed down the corridor at a brisk pace. The chance for some payback on the chief dungeon guard seemed too good of a chance to pass up, especially when a slave would be the one lying to one of their masters.

  It didn’t take long before the gate opened, shut, and then the man’s boot steps faded as he quickly ascended the stone staircase. Dareen fished in the top of her hair ball, finding her small wooden wand, and pulled it out, along with the bundle of nightshade. Her hands shook, and she quickly turned the wand in her right hand on the manacle, locking her left using the command word for the wand. “Otkroi!”

  Nothing happened other than a small pulsing of her wand. Dareen felt a lump in her throat, and her skin shivered at the thought that she may not be able to free herself. She tried a second time and then a third to no avail. She let herself fall to a seated position and tried not to cry, though tears started to well in her eyes, not for her own plight, but because she thought about failing her daughter and her friends.

  Something strange happened then. The thoughts of others came to her mind, and she felt calm again, calm and something else, a sense of determination that she had last felt when she had freed her son. That was it! She remembered her mother’s words. The powers of Agon serve those who serve others. She took a deep breath, and instead of thinking of her own need to free herself, she thought of freeing herself as the first step in freeing and helping others. “Otkroi!” she tried again, and with a faint flash of white, the manacle unlocked, freeing her hand. Quickly she repeated the steps for her other hand, her feet, and then finally, her cell door.

  The door opened as easily as if she had a key. Quickly Dareen ran to the desk and opened the drawers to see which one had the flask. She found it in the bottom drawer and pulled it out, opening it and smelling it. Well, that little liar, she thought at first as a sick smell of nasty fermented apple juice wafted from the flask. Dareen thought for a moment and knew the fat Kesh guard would not drink from that flask, but why was it there?

  She leaned down and looked under the desk from her angle almost on the floor. There, hanging tightly from two hooks, was another flask, much cleaner looking. She crawled under the desk and pulled it out, opening it and smelling it. A sweet aroma of a red wine came to her senses, and she started to understand Grimer better. The other flask was a decoy, used in case anyone suggested he kept contraband for himself in the dungeon. It would also act as a form of insurance in case he was caught somewhat intoxicated; he could claim the juice had fermented from being there too long. No, she was overthinking this now. Time to act.

  Dareen set the flask of wine between her legs, and, using her wand to rub against the herb that she held over the flask opening, she put a healthy amount of the Nightshade into the flask, ensuring that it was mixed well by stoppering it and shaking it well. She then returned it to its place, hooking it again as she had found it, and then put the nasty flask back in the drawer and then returned to her cell just in time.

  She got her locks back on and hid her wand after wrapping the herb back around it again as the young guard returned. He didn’t speak to her but just nodded, taking the old flask out of the drawer, walking to another cell, and dumping its contents into the bucket there used for personal waste by prisoners. “I be cursed as all, duz dat juice of hiz stink.”

  “Such a waste,” Dareen said.

  The other man returned and poured the contents of a small pouch hid under his tunic and refilled the flask with what appeared to be wine into the old flask’s container and then returned it to the drawer, tucking the empty container back under his tunic. The sounds of approaching boots got both their attention, and without saying a word, the young guard reached under the other side of his tunic and grabbed a freshly cooked bun, tossing it to Dareen as the young man stood waiting for their visitor.

  Was the young man kind? Dareen thought to herself. No, it was a bribe, she understood now. That is how they operated, and he was bribing her to lie for him. Still no kindness from a Kesh.

  “What’z so funny, you kitchen rat?” Grimer said, walking into view.

  Dareen was shocked. The man looked different, as his swarthy skin was a few shades lighter with less dirt on it and his hair was actually combed and his clothes looked like they had been cleaned, though they were wrinkled heavily as if they had sat in a drawer or chest for weeks if not months.

  “You look clean,” the young Kesh said, also in shock.

  “What’z it to ya?” Grimer said, walking around to sit at his desk and taking a long look around as if to reassure himself that everything was just the way he had left it.

  “Nothing. You donez up tops?”

  “Yeah, now get’z yourself back to da kitchens, you dirty rat.”

  The young guard took one quick glance at Dareen before tossing the extra set of keys at Grimer and exiting the dungeon. Dareen noted that the gate was left open for him, and it locked on its own when shut. Not wanting to interact with Grimer, she lay down and faced the back wall with her back to him.

  Grimer seemed to be in a non-talkative mood as he grumbled and made sounds that Dareen couldn’t understand. After what seemed like a very long time she heard a faint sound that she hadn’t noticed before. It sounded like some sort of chime coming from the courtyard and was faint but audible.

  “Blimy, if it ain’t nine o’clock already,” Grimer said.

  Dareen heard the man’s keys dangling and clanking one against the other as he started to do his rounds of the dungeon, occasionally making a remark to either himself or someone in one of the other cells. She hadn’t seen anyone in any cell near her, but she had heard the screams once and knew that someone was down here with her, if not more than one person.

  After about ten minutes, the man returned and sat behind his desk again. Two other guards showed up and reported that their sections were secure.
Grimer acknowledged their rounds and sent them off for the night. After what seemed another couple of hours, she heard him opening the drawer and pulling something out. It wasn’t the flask, but rather it sounded like something wrapped that was edible. The fat guard made too many oohing and aahing sounds as he ate something delicious. Finally, she heard what she had been waiting patiently for all evening, the sound of someone drinking as the liquid made a noise as it passed down the man’s throat.

  “Ahh,” Grimer said, “that be sweet, indeed.”

  Dareen realized the man was talking to himself and seemed most pleased with his late night meal despite having to clean himself up, or perhaps he enjoyed the cleaner him if not the act of cleaning?

  The shade worked slowly, and it took half an hour before she heard the sound that she had prayed to Agon for. Snoring. Working quickly, she moved to the bars of her cell and called to Grimer. “Psst, wake up, you fat pig.” That should have gotten a reaction, but when there was none, she knew he was asleep.

  She repeated the process for freeing herself from her cell and tiptoed, despite his appearance of sleep, to the man and started to try to lift his keys from his belt when she noticed the wall rack where the spare key set was hanging. Smiling, she took the spare set and headed down the corridor, peering into each cell that she passed, but they were all empty. Perhaps they filled these last?

  Dareen opened the gate with the spare keys, having to try three keys before she found the correct one as she didn’t want to rely on her wand as it made a small flash of white light and a cracking sound. It wasn’t very loud, but she realized it reacted in proportion to the lock, louder and brighter for bigger locks, and she didn’t want to risk anything now.

  This was one of her many weak points in her plan. She had a rough idea of the layout of the castle from a few Ulathans who had told her where the children were kept. The dungeon consisted of one half of the basement complex, and the kitchens took up the other. Actually, they were on the main floor, but the pantry and the children were in the bottom cellar, opposite of the dungeon. If the Ulathan woman who had been to both was correct, then there was no connecting passage directly between the two. Dareen would have to risk moving up to the main level and then crossing over.