Relics of War

Chapter Fourteen

Guests or not, there were chores to be done in the morning-livestock to feed, water to fetch, and any number of other mundane tasks to be performed. Garander was startled to find Azlia helping him with the chickens; she offered no explanation beyond a cheerful “Good morning!” and he decided not to ask.

As they finished up, she said, “Tell me about the shatra.”

Garander suddenly realized why she had been helping him; she wanted to know more about her quarry. She had gotten him alone, ingratiated herself…

But he had nothing to hide. In fact, he wanted to tell her. As he hung up the feed bucket he said, “We call him Tesk because we can’t pronounce his name; it’s long and strange. He speaks Ethsharitic, but he pronounces his words strangely and sometimes gets things a little wrong.”

“Where does he live? Do you know?”

“He lives in the forest-he doesn’t need a house. His magic keeps him warm and dry. I’m not sure how he finds enough to eat.”

“You’re sure he doesn’t have a cave or some other hiding place somewhere?”

Garander turned up an empty palm. “How could I be sure? But I don’t know anything of one, and I’ve seen him sit in a snowstorm as comfortable as an ordinary man at his own hearth.”

Azlia nodded. “How long has he been out there?”

“He says he’s been alone in the woods since the end of the Great War-he was out there watching the borders when the gods destroyed the Empire. I suppose they overlooked him.”

“He’s been alone out there for twenty years?”

“That’s what he says.”

“Why didn’t anyone know about it until now?”

“He didn’t want them to. He can hide really well when he wants to.”

“But then how did you find him?”

“Ishta led me to him.” Before Azlia could ask the obvious next question, he continued, “And she found him because he wanted her to. He got lonely, and thought that a child wouldn’t know any better than to talk to him.”

“Don’t parents around here tell their children not to talk to strangers?”

The empty palm came up again. “Do children in Varag do everything their parents tell them?”

Azlia smiled at that. “I suppose not.”

“He didn’t come looking for her, after all; he just stayed in the woods and let her find him. I think he may have known she wasn’t allowed there, and if she was already breaking one rule, why not another?”

“I see.”

“He didn’t want to just stay out in the forest forever. He may be part demon, but he’s part man, and men get lonely.”

“He waited twenty years, though.”

“He knew what would happen if the overlords of Ethshar found out a shatra had survived. He hoped that by now we’d all have forgotten what shatra were.”

“That’s not the sort of thing people forget.”

“I guess not,” Garander acknowledged, turning up a hand. “But remember, he doesn’t know much about us. His people were different from ours.”

“People are people,” the wizard said.

Garander’s mouth twisted wryly. “So you’re saying Northerners were just like us?”

Azlia paused. They had left the barn and were standing in the yard, halfway to the house. “Well, no,” she said. “Some things were different, some were the same.”

Garander nodded. “So he hoped that shatra were forgotten. But he wasn’t surprised when we figured out what he is.”

“So you did know?”

“Not at first. But our father told us some things about the war, and we figured it out.”

“And you still talked to the shatra?”

“By then we knew him, and we knew he didn’t mean us any harm. After all, if he wanted to kill us, he’d had twenty years to do it.”

“If he was really here all along.”

“Where else could he have come from?” Garander asked.

Azlia took a second to think, then said, “So you really don’t think he wants to hurt anyone?”

“The war’s over. He knows that.”

“What about the demon?”

Garander hesitated, then said, “He says that the demon can’t control him unless he tries to disobey his orders-and for twenty years now, he hasn’t had any orders, so the demon’s harmless.”

Azlia considered this for a moment. Garander glanced around, and saw Hargal and Grondar walking through the west field. No one else was in sight; Shella and their mother were probably in the house, but where Ishta, Sammel, and Burz might be he did not know.

“You don’t want us to hurt him, do you?” Azlia asked.

“No, we don’t,” Garander confirmed. “Ishta and I, I mean. I don’t know about anyone else. We like him.”

“How do you know he hasn’t gone off where we can’t find him?”

Garander took a deep breath. “Because I talked to him,” he said. “Last night.”

Azlia smiled. “Ah,” she said.

“He’d be willing to talk to you all, to show you he’s safe.”

“Oh?”

“If he does, if he can convince you he won’t hurt anyone, will you go away? Go back to the baron and tell him there’s no need to kill the shatra?”

Azlia hesitated. “I don’t know,” she said. “It’ll take more than words to convince us.”

“I think we can show you more than words.”

“You have something planned?”

“Maybe.” Garander frowned. “I’m glad I had a chance to talk to you; I don’t think Sammel really listens to me, and that Hargal scares me. I don’t know if I could have told them what I just told you.”

“You don’t think it’s an accident that I’m the one who helped you this morning, do you?”

Garander had not given the matter any conscious thought, but now that it had been pointed out, it seemed obvious. He grimaced; these people weren’t stupid. At least, the magicians weren’t, and Hargal didn’t seem to be; he really couldn’t say about Burz. They must have noticed that he found Azlia easier to talk to than the others. “I guess not,” he said. “But could you talk to the others, then? Sammel and the soldiers?”

“That’s what I plan to do, yes. So, when did you have in mind for this demonstration?”

“After lunch.”

“Today?” She sounded surprised.

Garander nodded.

“I thought you would need a few days to arrange it.”

“No,” Garander said. “This afternoon.”

“Then I have some preparations to make.”

Startled, Garander said, “You do?”

“I do.” She looked around, and spotted Hargal. “Excuse me.” Then she turned and marched off, headed directly toward the soldier and Garander’s father.

This abrupt departure caught Garander by surprise; for a moment he simply stood and watched her go. Then, gathering his wits, he headed into the house.

Burz was standing just inside the door, watching Garander’s mother and sister as they worked in the kitchen. The soldier turned as the youth came in, and asked, “Where’s the wizard?”

“She went to talk to Hargal,” Garander said, pointing.

Burz frowned. “Excuse me.” He brushed past Garander and stepped out the door. Garander let him go, then greeted his mother and settled on a chair by the hearth.

A moment later the door opened again, and Ishta entered. “They’re all talking over there,” she said, pointing to the west.

“All of them?” Garander asked.

She nodded. “The sorcerer was following me around while I did my chores, but when he saw the others talking he went over there, too.”

“Did he talk to you?”

“He tried to. I wouldn’t talk to him. They want to kill Tesk, so I’m not going to talk to any of them.”

“Oh.” That was typical of Ishta, Garander thought-though he wondered whether she might have talked more than she wanted to admit. Sometimes she couldn’t keep quiet, especially when she was excited or angry. But Sammel didn’t know her; he wouldn’t have known how to get her started.

“Would you two like to make yourselves useful?” their mother called.

Garander resisted the temptation to answer her question honestly, and instead got up and headed for the kitchen.

He had expected the baron’s people to be impatient to get on with meeting Tesk, but they did not seem to be. When Grondar came in he reported that they had been talking quietly and not letting him hear, and had then all gone into the barn and closed the door. He clearly did not appreciate being shut out of his own barn, but he was not inclined to argue with soldiers and magicians.

The family went about their business, not saying much about their uninvited visitors. When the time came to make lunch, Garander asked his mother, “Should I tell the…our guests?”

His mother snorted. “Let them feed themselves!”

Accordingly, the five of them ate a quiet meal, leaving the baron’s agents to their own devices. Garander did not think any of them would starve.

When everyone had eaten, the table had been cleared, and Shella the Younger was washing the dishes, Garander rose. “I need to talk to the wizard,” he said.

“I’ll come along,” Ishta immediately announced, springing to her feet. Garander repressed a sigh; Ishta could be distressingly obvious, and indeed, the rest of the family plainly saw that something was up.

“Fine,” he said, with a glance at their father. “But be quiet.”

Ishta nodded.

“Son,” Grondar said.

“Yes?” Garander answered, dreading what his father might say.

“I assume you are not simply looking for the wizard in hopes she might show you a few spells.”

“No, Father.”

“I hope you aren’t planning to do anything that might bring the baron’s wrath down upon us. Remember, while he may not have a great deal of power in his own right, he is one of the Council of Barons. If Ishta’s friend angers Lord Dakkar, it may bring not just the soldiers of Varag, but the armies and magicians of Sardiron and all its allies down upon us. Don’t judge them all by the two out in the barn, either; there are wizards in the World who can move mountains. And the dragons who fought for Ethshar in the Great War are not all dead; I don’t know what became of them, but I’m sure there are those in the baronies who do know, and who can call some of them back if the need arises.”

“I’m not trying to anger anyone, Father. I just want to convince the baron’s people that Tesk is harmless and should be left alone.”

For a moment the two men, father and son, looked at one another, assessing each other. Then Grondar said, “You do have a plan, then?”

Garander nodded.

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

Garander started to say that there was not, but then a thought struck him. He glanced at Ishta, but she was leaving it all to him. “You know, if you could bring some of the neighbors, so they can see that Tesk won’t hurt them, that might be helpful.”

Grondar raised his chin, considering, then asked. “How long do I have?”

Garander turned up an empty palm. “I’m not sure. Perhaps an hour? Perhaps two? No later than mid-afternoon.”

Grondar nodded. He turned and called, “Shella, leave the rest of the dishes for later, and get over to Kolar’s place. Bring anyone there who can spare the time-tell them it’s about the shatra.”

Startled, Shella dropped a dishrag. “What?”

“I said, go fetch Kolar and his family. Tell them we have the baron’s magicians here to deal with the shatra, and they’re invited to watch.” He turned back to Garander. “Do you know where?”

“The north field.”

“Good. Wife, can you see to Elkan? I’ll tell Felder myself, and the village if I have time.”

Startled by this sudden helpfulness, Garander stood, mouth agape, for a moment, as his parents and sister found their coats and prepared to go.

Grondar saw him. “Well?” he demanded. “Don’t you have something to do?”

“I don’t…I mean, yes, but now it…maybe I should wait…”

“Get on with it, whatever it is,” Grondar said with a wave.

“Come on,” Ishta said, tugging at his sleeve.

Garander started toward the door again, and had lifted the latch when his father’s voice stopped him again. “Son?”

“Yes, Father?”

“Be careful.”

“Yes, Father.”

With that parental concern in his ear, Garander stepped out into the chill of early spring and headed for the barn, with Ishta close on his heels.

Azlia and the others were waiting for him, and at least some of their preparations were obvious-the two soldiers wore breastplates and helmets, while the sorcerer had assorted talismans slung about his body on straps and cords. The wizard had doffed her traveling cloak and was wearing a blue gown and velvet cap; a black ribbon was tied around her right wrist, securing a small metal object with a complex and unfamiliar rune painted on its face, and several pouches and vials were strung on her belt. Garander guessed that the four of them were ready for combat.

“There you are,” Hargal said. “What’s this demonstration you have planned for us?”

“Well, it’s…it’s not so much a demonstration as a chance to talk to the shatra yourselves, so you can see that he doesn’t mean any harm.”

“Tesk wouldn’t hurt anyone!” Ishta burst out.

“It’s a shatra,” Hargal said. “They were made to kill people.”

“He’s a person!”

Azlia interrupted. “We can talk to him?”

“You said that if we could prove he can control the demon, you wouldn’t kill him, right?”

The soldiers and magicians exchanged glances. “All right,” Hargal said. “I guess we can agree to that.”

“Well, that’s what we plan to do.”

“How?” Sammel asked.

Garander hesitated, and then decided not to explain. He had intended to tell them, but now he thought that would be a mistake. He trusted Tesk to keep his demon half leashed, but these four did not, and they were not likely to agree to something that might get them all killed if it turned out Tesk could not restrain the demon. “You’ll just have to come and see.”

“Come where?” Hargal asked. “Can’t it come here?”

“Just out to the field,” Garander said. “I don’t…there isn’t enough room in here.”

Again, the four looked at one another; then Azlia said, “Come on.”

Garander and Ishta led the way out of the barn and around to the north field. Although the snow was almost gone from the field, the ground was unpleasantly soft underfoot; no one wanted to rush across it, for fear a foot might sink into the mud, so the six of them made a slow parade out to the center.

The sky was overcast, the sun hidden behind clouds, but it did not look likely to rain.

When Garander reached what seemed like a good spot-near the center of the field, clear of snow, and on ground that was not too soft-he stopped. He waited for the others to gather around him.

They did, but he noticed Sammel watching the forest suspiciously, and both soldiers had their hands on the hilts of their swords. Azlia’s hand was on the hilt of her silver dagger.

“Well?” Hargal demanded. “Now what? Where is it?”

“It’s not far away,” Garander said. “But first-Sammel, you said your sorcery could track a shatra. Tesk says it can’t.”

Sammel frowned. “Your shatra is correct. I could follow its path for a few yards, no more.”

“So if Tesk goes into hiding, you can’t find him.”

Sammel did not bother to answer; he just looked at Azlia. “I can find him,” the wizard said. “I know he’s less than half a mile from here.”

“Do you really think you can kill him?”

“I don’t know,” Azlia answered. “I think I could give it a good try.”

“What about you two?” Garander asked, gesturing at Hargal and Burz.

“Depends how much truth there is in the stories,” Hargal said. “If they’re all true, then no, I can’t, but if they’re the exaggerations some of us think they are, then maybe I can.”

“All right,” Garander said. “You’re about to get a chance to try.” He raised his arm above his head.

A weird ululating wail shattered the afternoon calm; the baron’s agents all whirled, looking for the source.

Garander turned more slowly. He had never heard the sound before, and had not expected it, but after an initial start he was not terribly surprised. He supposed Tesk wanted to make a dramatic entrance.

And sure enough, under the trees to the north stood a black-garbed figure, scarcely visible in the shadows.

The others spotted him soon enough; Sammel pointed, in case anyone had missed the mysterious figure.

Then Tesk ran out to them, moving with that supernatural speed and inhuman smoothness-not in a straight line, but zigzagging across the field.

He stopped about twenty feet away.

“I am Tezhiskar Deralt aya Shatra Ad’n Chitir Shess Chitir,” he said. “I understand you wanted to speak with me.”