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

by Salvador Mercer

  Ke-Tor’s personal room was off the main lodging room where the wizard sat, smoking his pipe and watching the flames dance in the rock fireplace. Without warning, the hair on his head started to tingle and he felt the urge of his critir calling to him from his room. He was in no mood to deal with the High-Mage this evening, and he felt it was rude for their leader to bother him this late at night, not that the Kesh didn’t keep late hours, but the wizard caste was loathe to conform to anyone else’s dictates.

  He shrugged off the urge, thinking perhaps it was Zorcross, who was rather well-trained in the use of the seeing device. Of course, not as proficient as Am-Ohkre. No, that Arch-Mage had been able to show a mastery of the critir that no other wizard could come close to, yet what did it profit him? He was scattered from Ulatha to the far Western Sea, his ashes becoming one with the land.

  Suddenly, his gut wrenched, and he felt a pull on his mind stronger than anything he’d had to endure previously from his former master, Am-Ohkre. This was something entirely foreign to Ke-Tor’s experience, and he realized that he had stood straight up and laid his pipe in the tray by his side on the table. He wanted to resist, but his feet began to move toward the critir where it was placed on its tripod, covered by a silk cloth. The movement was unnatural, and Ke-Tor hesitated for a moment, wondering if Sultain had learned the secrets that his former master had possessed.

  Let us get this over with, Ke-Tor said to himself, angry and reluctant to see who dared called to him using his own seeing orb. Within seconds, he stood next to the metal tripod and lifted the silk covering to reveal his orb dancing and illuminating his room with its magical light. He peered into the swirling mist inside and noted the features of a face coming into focus before him. The face looked hauntingly familiar.

  It had similar features to his old master, Am-Ohkre, but the other man’s staff was wooden and had a green gemstone set on top of it. The brown plain robe was likewise a very non-Kesh identifying feature. The face looked familiar, but it was different. It had a granular texture to it, and the color was ashen or pale, not the usual tan, pinkish color of a living human being. It took a moment before the realization of who this was hit Ke-Tor like the proverbial ton of bricks. “YOU!” was all Ke-Tor could utter.

  “Yes, me, Kesh wizard, and I have something to show you,” Elister said to Ke-Tor.

  Ke-Tor watched as the ball hazed over and then revealed a scene of a mighty warrior standing next to what looked like a very accomplished Arch-Mage. The sky was dark, darker than night, and the scene was illuminated only from dozens of destructive fires that appeared to be burning all around them. The mage had a wondrous staff that glowed as the charged particles in the air danced around it, and the two figures were standing on the ruins of an ancient castle, two mighty titans facing one another. The scene seemed too familiar.

  The figures spoke, but no sound could be heard, and the mage shot a thunderous bolt of lightning at the mighty warrior, who raised a perfectly polished shield to deflect the bolt back at the base of the ruins that the mage stood upon. Without effort, both mage and warrior rushed one another, scrambling lithely upon the rocky ground, and blow after blow was traded between the pair, sword on staff, staff on shield. Great bursts of blinding light erupted with each smite of the sword or staff.

  Wait! There were others below the pair, watching and looking up, but at what? Ke-Tor strained to see overhead, and slowly the critir complied, revealing the twin sisters above them, glowing with their own internal light, and behind them was the massive planet of Dor Akun, Father Death himself blocking out the light of the dragon’s fire, which had plunged Agon into complete and utter darkness.

  Ke-Tor forgot about his circumstances, so engrossed in the duel that he was witnessing until a figure of fear rose in the background, coming at the two battling men. It was red, scaled from head to foot, and it rose taller than everything else in the vision. Ke-Tor had never actually seen a dragon before. No, the Draconus were extinct and his order had done the deed, ensuring their survival for all time, but seeing the massive creature, even through a magical vision, was terrifying nonetheless.

  The two fighting men, mage and warrior, stopped, and the fighter threw his shield down and gripped his sword with both hands as a third man ran up to them from the bottom of his view, climbing the rubble with a quickness that belied the man’s age. The last figure had a brown robe and a wooden staff with a ruby gemstone on top, and he reached the pair, gesturing at the great red dragon violently. The other men seemed to understand, and with a fluid motion, two staves, one metallic, the other made of wood, and the warrior’s sword came together at the exact same time that the dragon breathed a wall of fire that consumed the area.

  The conflagration consumed everything, and as the four blows came together, the entire scene erupted into an explosion of light as multi-colored rays shot from the center of their weapons in all directions. The blast knocked everyone down, and indeed, Ke-Tor had the distinct impression that few could survive that blast.

  Slowly, the scene cleared and the area was plunged into the dim light of fire as warrior, druid, mage, and dragon had all disappeared. The air from where they were standing rippled with waves, distorted as if looking through the intense heat of a furnace, and the trail of distortion traveled up and away between the twin sisters to Dor Akun itself. Darkness fell, and the critir went dark.

  “No, wait,” Ke-Tor said to no one in particular, searching his critir and willing it to return to the vision. Instead, the stone face of the old man across the Gregus River came into view again.

  “Now you know what your High-Mage seeks,” Elister said, looking past the critir and motioning at someone with his head to come over.

  “I do,” Ke-Tor said, his voice in awe, and he understood now what the triumvirate desired so much that they kept it secret from him. “He seeks the Staff of Alore.”

  Elister nodded in agreement. “You must stop him or he will use it to rule Agon and you will forever be subservient to him.”

  Ke-Tor’s eyes narrowed, and he hated that the druid spoke the truth, easily seeing the other man’s manipulation but the wizard was unable to counter it. “I will deal with the High-Mage personally.”

  “Wise of you to do so,” Elister said. “However, you have unfinished business in Ulatha as well.”

  “What would that be, druid?” Ke-Tor said, speaking the last word with hate and venom.

  The critir hazed momentarily, and a very familiar face peered at Ke-Tor with equal hate and venom and a familiar voice spoke. “Master no more, I am coming for you. I will kill you.”

  “Khan, you traitor!” Ke-Tor said, forgetting his own mandate to never speak the man’s name again. “I will see to it that I flay you alive and feed your corpse to the slaves.”

  Khan disappeared as the ball hazed for the last time, and Elister appeared, looking intently at Ke-Tor, who had drool coming from his mouth as his hatred and anger caused him to salivate excessively. Ke-Tor wiped it off with the back of his sleeve and then felt a vibration in the room and heard the last words from his critir before it exploded. “You’ll have to catch him first.”

  The explosion ripped a hole in the back of the room and brought down several walls as the roof was torn off and the quarter keeper came tumbling down a broken staircase into the main room, which was filled with smoke. Ke-Tor had been blasted backward to land on his back next to the fireplace, which was the only thing still intact from the intense energy of the blast. Ke-Tor’s critir was no more.

  Troops, soldiers, and the Balarian bodyguard that Ke-Tor employed came running into the setting dust and debris that used to be the main lodging quarter for the upper class of Kesh. It was a smoking ruin now. One of the wizard’s personal bodyguards leaned over Ke-Tor saying, “Are you all right, Master?”

  Ke-Tor’s ears rang and his vision was blurred, but anger fueled his adrenaline and the wizard struggled to stand, finally getting to his feet with the help of his men. “Prepare to move out. We leav
e for Keshtor now.”

  “But we just arrived,” the caravan master complained.

  Ke-Tor had kept a grip on his staff, and without hesitation, he muttered one of the invoking words for destruction and struck the hapless caravan master on his chest, and the man erupted into flames from head to toe. The troops around ran for cover, and everyone, including the somewhat fearless Balarian bodyguard, moved back several steps as the gruesome scene unfolded. Finally Ke-Tor repeated himself, annoyed for having to do so. “I said we leave and we leave now. Anyone else care to disagree with me?”

  No one spoke a word to the wizard, and orders were barked to move out within the hour. The caravan actually was ready to go just shy of half an hour, record time, and the entire group traveled past the burned-out debris of the lodging house with their caravan master still burning near the fireplace. Ke-Tor was going to pick a fight.

  “What happened?” Khan asked Elister as the critir went dark, after seeing a bright light erupt from it. The Ulathans had covered their eyes until the light darkened, and after a few seconds, it began to glow again. This small glow was all there was to see from Khan’s magic orb. No vision of Ke-Tor could be seen within.

  “I’ve freed your magic peeping glass,” Elister said, holding it out for Khan to take. Khan hesitated, looking at it as if it may be dangerous now. “Go on, it’s perfectly safe now to both hold and use.”

  Khan took it gingerly and held it against his chest, stroking the top of the orb much as a mother would stroke her child’s head. “You are certain it is safe to use? The highest of my order can bend a critir to their will and make it show them things, even against the owner’s desire.”

  “Yes, I know,” Elister said.

  “So, what is to prevent my old master from doing the same?”

  Elister made a sighing sound that was most odd, considering the man didn’t breathe, and began to speak in a tone that sounded as if he was explaining something simple to a child. “I broke the connection between your peeping glass and your master’s—”

  “Ex-master,” Khan corrected.

  “Very well, ex-master,” Elister said, “and I was informing you that he is no longer in possession of a working—”

  “Critir,” Khan finished for him, not wanting him to refer to it as a peeping glass again.

  “Ah yes, a critter,” Elister said, mispronouncing the name of the device. “A warning, however—your critter won’t work here in the Earlstyne. I dare not open a portal for you to be able to do so. One of your order could exploit it and peer inside, so to speak.”

  “So where will it work?” Khan asked, continuing to stroke his critir.

  “Outside of the forest, but we don’t have much time for all this. Before I contacted your master . . . ex-master, I took a moment to use the . . . device to see what was happening in Ulsthor. I can’t be sure, but it appears that Targon’s mother has engineered a rather daring escape, but it can’t succeed without our help.”

  “What are you talking about?” Targon asked. “I’m going to Kesh now, and I don’t want anyone to try to stop me again.”

  “Of course you’re going to Kesh. Now get ready because not all of you can go with him,” Elister said.

  “Why not?” Salina asked.

  “Because some of you must return to Korwell to find the ancient history book of Diamedes and ascertain the location of the Shield of Ulatha as well as the Draconus Rod,” Elister explained.

  “What’s going to happen to Targon’s mother in Kesh?” Monique asked, concern in her voice. Cedric seemed not to mind.

  “She plans to smuggle the Ulathan children out of slavery, but she doesn’t know about the border pass,” Elister said.

  “What about it?” Will asked.

  “There is a full inspection of all carts, wagons, and goods at the pass,” Khan said. “At least, that was our procedure when last I was a member of my order. I don’t see how anything could be smuggled past the makeshift fort that we built there this spring.”

  “Then we must intercept them before they reach the pass.” Targon looked at everyone for approval of his words.

  Elister spoke first. “Yes, you must go there with Marissa and Core and free the children. The Kesh here, Cedric, Lady Salina, and Will must return to Korwell immediately.”

  “Can’t we help Targon first and then go to Korwell?” Salina asked.

  “No,” Elister explained. “The historian’s book was hidden, magically most likely, and I had to break the concealment so that Khan here can find it using his critir while there is no magic-user in Korwell.”

  “So that is why you broke Ke-Tor’s critir, to prevent him from finding it and having one of his apprentices retrieve it,” Khan said.

  “Yes,” Elister confirmed his motive. “I also set into motion what I hope will be the start of a small civil war between the mages of Kesh by showing this Ke-Tor, wizard fellow, a vision of what the High-Mage is after.”

  “What is that?” Horace asked.

  “He wants the Staff of Alore,” Elister said.

  “The first staff of magic, both powerful and deadly, capable of lifting any mage to unimaginable heights of power,” Khan said, nodding at his understanding now. “My only question to you, druid, is how did you know what vision to show him? Did you make something up?”

  Elister reached out to smack Khan on the forehead with his staff and then stopped suddenly, remembering his place as Khan flinched and Dorsun reached for his weapon. “Don’t accuse me of lying, Kesh. I showed him the last battle of the Wizard-Dragon War that ended the apocalypse of Agon.”

  “That is impossible,” Khan said, stopping his demonstrative affection of his orb and eyeing the dead druid suspiciously. “That was over a thousand years ago.”

  Elister simply responded, “Nine hundred and ninety-nine to be exact, and I know because I was there.”

  Chapter 21

  Escape

  “Why not?” Dareen asked, standing and pulling her wand from her pocket, not sure what she could do about this new development. Ann clung to her leg from the bed, and Dareen wondered what would happen if she tried to invoke the charm of opening on this sinister figure’s head.

  “You can’t leave us here alone and take the children. The Kesh will kill us for sure.” The figure spoke but did not move, keeping the knife in its hand held downward. The voice spoke in the common tongue, but the dialect was not Ulathan.

  “Who are you and where are you from?” Dareen motioned for Ann to stay and pulled herself from her daughter for a moment and walked toward the figure.

  That did get a reaction, and the figure raised the knife and took a step back, illuminating the figure and showing Dareen that it was one of the three kitchen workers she had seen an hour ago. “We are from Rockton, and we are slaves here the same as you, tasked with overseeing the kitchen chores and the work of your children.”

  The sound of yelling came from the top of the stairs, and the sound of the gate at the top could be heard opening. Dareen asked, “Who is that?”

  “The kitchen boss. We don’t have time. Quick, hide under Shiela’s bed there.” The figure motioned toward the side where another worker had sat up and now pointed under the bed. Dareen hesitated for a second, and the sound of yelling and cursing could be heard along with the distinct echoes of boots on the stone staircase.

  “Psst, over here, quick,” Shiela said.

  Dareen ran and slid under the bed, giving Ann one quick look to convey to her that everything would be all right. Shiela quickly adjusted her blanket to cover the edge of her bed and sat upright, placing her feet on the floor. The other figure hid the knife in her clothing and ran to Ann just as the kitchen boss arrived with two guards.

  “What’z happenin’ down here?” he asked, coming in and sticking a large lantern into the room, casting too much illumination for Dareen’s comfort.

  “Just a nightmare, Boss,” the figure said from Ann’s bedside.

  “What, da little Ulathan bratz can�
��t sleep tight?” the boss asked. There was no response from the figure, and Dareen was upset that she couldn’t see what was happening. “You keepz them bratz quiet, Mary, or I’ll give them a cup of knockout, I will.”

  Dareen had no idea what in Agon a cup of knockout was, but it didn’t sound pleasant. She heard Mary respond, “I will, Boss. No lessons are necessary.”

  “Good. One more peeps out of you and I gives all of ya a good lesson.” The boss then left the room, plunging it back into the dim light of the lone candle and flickering of the oil lamp as the sound of their departure echoed back at them.

  The sheet was pulled back. “It’s all right now. You can come out,” Shiela said.

  Dareen crawled out, seeing Mary by Ann’s bedside, and most of the children were awake, rubbing their eyes. Dareen ran over to Ann and hugged her again, ignoring the other woman for a moment before addressing her. “I guess I owe you my thanks.”

  “Perhaps,” Mary said, giving Dareen a good once-over. “How in Nine Towers did you get in here?”

  Dareen had no idea what the Nine Towers were or what that meant, but then again, she didn’t know much about Rockton and she didn’t have time. “We don’t have much time. I’m here to get our children to safety. I didn’t know that you were stuck down here with them.”

  “We are, and they will blame us for sure if you take them without us. We can’t allow that as they hold us personally accountable for them,” Mary said.

  “How many are you, just you three?” Dareen asked, motioning to the other two women who were sitting on their beds.