Death Comes To All (Book 1)

by Travis Kerr

  They passed by the road entirely, continuing south. As before, Raiste seemed to know exactly where they were heading. Exactly where he planned on meeting Tara on the road Roland was unclear about. Raiste had only told her to follow the south road, and said she would know where to go.

  Roland didn't believe that following one of the main roads would be such a great idea when it was likely that they were being hunted by soldiers from the city, but he refrained from mentioning it to his companion. Raiste knew what he was doing far better than Roland did, and if he thought that speed was more important than stealth in this instance, he would have to take the man at his word.

  The travel became far more difficult as the continued southward. They no longer had any sort of a path to follow, but instead forced their way passed thick ferns and scrawny, tangled tree branches, from many of which hung thick vines. In more than one place narrow creeks, and once a larger waterway that Roland could only describe as a bog, blocked their way, but Raiste continued through it without wavering in his direction.

  Well, at least he’s not having trouble with the growth, Roland thought irritably.

  Roland could have cut his way through the brush with Ocean's Hand, but Raiste wouldn't allow it. The harder it would be for those who wished to follow them, the better it would be for the two of them, he explained with brief, terse words. It was obvious that the man didn't want to talk, but instead expected to have his instructions followed without question. For now Roland was inclined to agree, though explanations would need to come soon.

  Tara will want to hear those explanations as well, he thought, trying to choke back the anger welling up inside him. He could wait until they meet back up with her to hear them.

  He hoped that the leather clothing he wore might protect him somewhat against snake bites alligator attacks, but he doubted that such would be the case. Those reptiles pierced far thicker leather than that which he wore without difficulty. Still, Raiste refused to changed his direction, and Roland was forced to follow no matter what terrain his companion decided to navigate. Pushing away thoughts of what might lurk in front of them, hidden from their sight beneath the murky water, he pressed on.

  They traveled for nearly two hours that way before Roland began to hear sounds coming from somewhere to the west. It took him only a moment to discern that the sounds were voices. At some point, he realized, they must have begun paralleling the southern trade road. Such a road would be heavily guarded, he knew, and it was entirely possible that guards would already be looking for them along that route.

  We’ll have to be cautious.

  With a wordless signal from Raiste, Trick flew off his shoulder and into the trees above them. What he had been sent to look for exactly Roland wasn't certain of.

  Perhaps he’s searching for Tara, he thought.

  Roland knew that the feral woman and Raiste already had a meeting place in mind, so perhaps Trick was searching for some sign of that location. Trick might also have been sent to discover how many guards were in the area. Raiste seemed to understand the creature to a point, Roland knew, but he still couldn't.

  "The place we will be meeting Tara is about another hour ahead," Raiste whispered. "From what I can tell from the way Trick is acting, the road is crawling with guards. I couldn't say how many of them, if any, are searching for us, and how many are just protecting the merchants along the road, but its best for us to stay out of sight regardless. Try to stay as quiet as you can. If any of them spot us traveling off the road, they'll certainly suspect us to be thieves preparing to rob one of the merchants, and that's if we're lucky. If we aren't so lucky, they'll know exactly who we are. Either way we need to avoid being spotted."

  Now it was Roland's turn to remained silent. He didn't need to ask anything, and wasn't ready to talk to his companion just yet. Once they had met back up with Tara, and Raiste was ready to explain the purpose behind what had happened in the city, then he would talk. Until then, he didn't really have anything to say to the man.

  The travel didn't get any easier as they continued. Thankfully they didn't have any other swamplands to cross after the first; just two narrow streams that didn't get any deeper than two feet in the middle. Still, the leather clothing he wore was already wet after the one they had crossed before, and had already begun to chafe the skin along the inside of his legs as he walked.

  He wished more than anything for a change of clothes. Anything dry would be better than what he was wearing now. All of the clothing he had bought that day, however, was now packed away on the horses that Tara would be meeting them with. He would just have to try and ignore the painful blisters that the wet leather caused with each step he took.

  Just as he began to think that he wouldn't be able to take much more, Raiste turned back eastward, heading away from the road they had been following. Roland had no other choice but to follow, certain that the meeting place must be nearby. It would only make sense, he thought, that Tara would not be meeting them along the road, but instead at one of the hidden campsites that dotted the land, known only to those that traveled it regularly. Malik had hinted at just such a location when he told Tara to meet them. He hadn't gone into any details, but of course he wouldn’t have to. From their brief exchange, Roland was certain that Tara would already know those details, and didn't need to be told.

  Fifteen minutes later his suspicions were confirmed, as the two men stepped into a small clearing next to a shallow pond. Roland could clearly see small fish dart along underneath the water. Near the center of the pond a small turtle, its head no bigger than Roland's thumb, stuck its head out over the surface to watch them intently. After a second it must have decided that they were not a threat, for it dived back under the water again to continue with whatever it had been doing before they arrived.

  Raiste set down the small pack he had been carrying and sat down on it, using it as a cushion. "You may as well get comfortable," he said. "There's no way of knowing how long it will take Tara to reach us here. We should be safe enough for now. Not too many people know of this little site. Most of the merchants, the legitimate ones, camp right along the roadside. There are some camps that the guards know about, but I'm fairly certain that this isn't one of them."

  "What makes you think that?"

  Raiste idly pointed in the direction of a nearby tree. Dozens of peanuts still hung from it, though it was late in the season for them. If they weren't roasted soon they would no longer be edible at all.

  Roland didn't need to question any further. If the site they were at was well known, surely someone would have gleaned every last nut that still hung from the tree. Instead, only the lowest hanging branches, those that would have been easier for smaller scavengers to reach, had lost a noticeable portion of its fruit. The ground was also littered with nuts that had fallen off of the tree, entirely of their own volition. Raiste had mentioned before that the mages destroyed most of the fruits and vegetables that grew wild near the roads.

  If the guards knew of this place, the tree would have been destroyed already, Roland surmised.

  Roland walked over and picked some of the nuts that were in reach. He could pick more once Tara arrived with the packs, as long as there was room in them to hold the extra food. Later on he would be able to roast them, assuming the group stopped and made a fire sometime during the next few days. Whatever he didn't eat right away he could make into peanut butter, which would keep for several weeks longer. He wished that he could use a preservation spell, similar to that which the brindle had used on his potions, but unfortunately he didn't have magic. As far as he knew Raiste didn't have that sort of spell either, or if he had the man had never mentioned it.

  Thankfully, he didn't have long to wait before Tara arrived, leading four horses behind her on long tethers. All four horses carried bags and packs, though Roland suspected that most of them could have fit on one animal. Only one of the horses sported a saddle, possibly to fool anyone who saw Tara leave into thinking she was traveling on her ow
n. Roland knew that two more saddles would be hidden away in the packs somewhere. More importantly to him, at least in that moment, was the dry clothing that would also be found there.

  "They must have about half the guards in the city looking for the two of you," She informed them quickly, tying the lines she carried to a tree at the edge of the clearing. "I must have been stopped five or six times by guards along the road. The guards at the gate were even worse. I was beginning to thing that they weren't going to let me out of the city at all. If I had been in a group I wouldn't have gotten out. They had several people detained at the entrance. It was obvious to them that I wasn't who they were looking for. Still, it might not be safe for us to travel the road once we leave here."

  “How much did you find out about us? Do they have any idea who we are yet?”

  “I only overheard bits and pieces. As near as I can tell they don’t have much of a description of you at all. Just a middle aged man of average height and build. Roland's description, on the other hand, is wildly exaggerated. According to what I’ve heard, he’s about seven feet tall, dressed all in black leather, with flaming red hair and a ten foot long, magic sword. They guards at the gate said he cut down nearly thirty men in a matter of a few seconds. You know how that goes though. It’s only a matter of time before their descriptions get more accurate. So what really happened out there?”

  "Damn, I had hoped that we would be able to ride,” he said, ignoring her question for the moment. “We need to move quickly, but it seems I've once again underestimated Bloodheart's response." Raiste started rummaging through the packs, finally finding the pack that he had been carrying on his back before they had arrived at the city.

  Roland had suspected before that it had been magical in nature, and now his suspicions were confirmed as Raiste pulled out several small metal containers, as well as other strange articles that Roland couldn't quite identify. Roland could hear the sound of liquid sloshing inside the shining metal vials. Next to the metal containers he added a box, which opened to display over a dozen wigs of various colors, sizes, and styles.

  There’s no way that such a small pack could hold so much.

  “Roland and I will need to change our appearance again. It won't keep the guards from finding us if they search us closely enough, but I don’t want any merchants or other travelers we pass to consider us should the guards question them. We don't want to look like the men they are searching for. We'll hide Ocean's Hand under some of the packs. They'll be looking for someone in leather, carrying a huge sword. It will hopefully be enough to get us passed a glancing inspection. Just keep in mind that if any guards give a closer look we'll be sure to be spotted, so don't hide it so deeply that you can't get to it should you need it. Change your clothes, and we’ll pick you out a wig of a different color to wear for now."

  "You still haven't told me what happened to you back there," Tara reminded him in a low, dark voice. Clearly she was still very angry.

  She’s not the only one, Roland thought sourly.

  “That’s not something I can answer easily.”

  “According to what I heard at the gate, you two picked a fight with the city guards. The only thing you really told me before was that you did a hit on someone that I didn’t know about and used your name to get to him. Does that about sum it up?”

  "It's a little more complicated than that," Raiste replied vaguely.

  "Then uncomplicate it," she ordered. "We've been traveling together for a long time, you and I, and I've never asked much about your past. I knew you had some vendetta against the mages, and I've pretty much figured it out that they aren't very fond of you either, but I never would have suspected the type of response that invoking your name seems to have brought. You know I wouldn't normally ask, but now we need to know exactly what sort of danger you've brought down in us. Who are you really, and what have you gotten us into?"

  "I'm sure you've already guessed some of it," he answered after a moments pause. "You recall the story of how the mages betrayed one of their own, a man named Fallon Goldstone, and murdered him and his entire family?"

  "Yes, I remember the story. You've told it a few times, using it as an example of how untrustworthy the elite mages really are. What about it?"

  "Then you also recall how some of those stories claimed that Goldstone's children might have escaped the assault, spirited away by magic. Those stories weren't just an example for me. They were the story of my childhood. As his last, desperate act, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to defeat those who opposed him, my father used the last of his magic to transport my sister and I away. We were sent to some of his supporters, men whom he had discretely worked with and trusted for years. He couldn't send us to relatives, or any known associates. The mages would still have been searching for us if they knew we were alive. They would want to finish what they started.

  "My father's friends, their names are not important, sent my sister and I in different directions to different people. They believed that as long as one of us survived, my father's legacy might also. By splitting us up they believed it increased our chances of escaping notice. I don't know for certain what happened to my sister, though I have my suspicions. I'll be keeping those to myself for the moment. I'm sure you understand my reasons. As for myself, I began training at an early age, in everything that I thought might be useful in completing my final goals. I felt that I needed to avenge my father's death. I still feel that way honestly."

  "That still doesn't explain whatever it was that happened today," Tara reminded him. "What exactly did you do to get half the city chasing after us?"

  "Like I said, I knew that Bloodheart would have been looking for me, and thought that there was a chance that he still was. I needed to get into one of his government buildings to deal with a man who worked there. I thought he might have information on what had happened to my father, and I had other reasons for killing him as well."

  "And what might those reasons have been?" Roland spat angrily.

  I’ve been silent long enough, he decided. I have questions of my own that need answering.

  "What did you think was important enough to walk me into a trap and nearly getting me killed over, without even bothering to tell me what you were doing? What was so important that you think that a mistake like that is acceptable?"

  "Aside from my own reasons, which would have been satisfied by simply questioning the man, I did it for you actually. Or to be more accurate, for your friend, Tammie. The man I needed to question just happened to be the same man that married her mother and, well you know more or less what else he's done. I found that out from the bartender, Silus.

  “Killing Sloan was not a mistake. Not at all. My mistake, which I admit to freely, was underestimating the number of guards in the building. I expected a half dozen at most, easy enough to dispatch myself if I had to. I never expected the shear numbers that we had to deal with instead."

  "So that was why you used that magic on me, to even out the odds?"

  "What magic are you talking about?" Tara demanded. Roland had forgotten that they hadn't had the time to tell her about the battle, or what had taken place during it.

  The only thing she knows are the tidbits of information she gleaned from the guards on her way out of the gate, and she probably doesn’t believe a word of those wild tales, Roland thought. He wondered what she was going to say when she found out just how close to the truth those stories really were.

  "I did not use any magic on you, Roland," Raiste answered seriously. Before he could continue the group heard a splash, distracting them. Trick had flown down into the pond, reappearing a few seconds later with a small fish clutched in its claws.

  Turning away as his friend greedily munched on its small prize, he continued. "I can't use magic in such a way. Admittedly I do have some secrets that I've kept hidden, and will continue to do so for now, but that wasn’t one of them. The magic you felt in that battle had nothing to do with me in the slightest. It was just as much o
f a surprise to me as it was to you."

  "What are the two of you talking about?" Tara asked, confusion evident on her face. The feral woman knew almost nothing yet about what had happened to the two of them. With a nod from Raiste, Roland quickly recounted what had transpired at Sloan's building, trying to recall the battle and the magic that had infused him to the best of his knowledge.

  "I don't know what magic he used on me, but I've never felt so powerful in my life," Roland concluded. "Once his magic had left me, I felt incredibly drained. I don't think I've ever felt so tired in all my life. We went straight back to the inn after that, and you already know everything that’s happened since then."

  "I already told you, I had nothing to do with the magic that gave you that strength today," Raiste repeated calmly.

  "Then who did?" Roland returned hotly, his anger not in the least deflated by his companion's demeanor. "I don't think that it was Sloan who did it. He didn't try to use any magic at all, until he tried to cast that fire spell on me during the fight. A spell, I might add, that was somehow absorbed into my blade and then redirected at another enemy. Even if Sloan had tried to use magic before then, he certainly wouldn't have done something to make either of us more powerful. That wouldn't have made any sense. Was the magic in the blade itself then?"

  "There’s no chance of that. I know the smith who crafted it personally. He's a canis, and while he's powerful physically, he doesn't have any magic. He doesn't have the ability to cast spells on his blades. You might be thinking that perhaps he hired a mage to do that job for him, but I know that isn't the case here either.