Relics of War

Chapter Twenty-Three

“Velnira! Come with me, please!” Garander tried to sound genuinely desperate.

The baron’s chamberlain looked up from her breakfast, blinking in the bright morning sun. “Why?” she asked. “What is it?”

“It’s the shatra!”

Her eyes narrowed. “What about it?”

“He…it…it’s terrible!”

Velnira set her plate aside, and asked Burz, “What’s he talking about?”

“I don’t know,” Burz said. “He just said it was urgent, and I knew he was in on all the talking, so I let him past.”

She looked questioningly at Garander.

“Something terrible has happened!” he said. “I think he may be dead.”

Her eyes narrowed. “The shatra? Dead?”

“I…I think so.”

“What about his magic?” she asked warily.

“You mean why didn’t it protect him? I don’t know! His talismans are still there, so-come and see!”

Velnira frowned and got to her feet. She told Burz, “You’re coming with us.” She pointed to another soldier, a man Garander did not know, and said, “You, too.” She ordered a third, “Inform the baron, and see which magicians are available. Have the magicians ready, in case I send for them.” Then she turned to Garander. “Show us,” she said.

Garander turned and trotted eastward, glancing back over his shoulder to make sure the others were following. Burz took the lead, then Velnira, and the other soldier brought up the rear as the farm boy led them across the field and into the woods beyond.

“I was coming to see whether he wanted to talk to anyone this morning, and I found him,” Garander said as he pushed through the underbrush. “I came straight to you-I thought the baron ought to know.”

“You haven’t told anyone else?” Velnira asked, as she stumbled over a fallen log.

“No,” Garander said. “I’m a loyal subject of Lord Dakkar, so I came to you first.”

“Hmph.”

Then Garander brought them around the trunk of a big oak, and there was Tesk, lying on his back in a pool of blood, his head flung back across a fallen branch, his helmet half off, and his throat exposed-both the outside of his throat, and the inside. Raw red flesh and a glimpse of white bone lay open in a shaft of sunlight, and the bits of skin around the wound that weren’t covered in blackening blood were grayish-white.

Even though Garander knew it was an illusion, he shuddered at the sight. He heard Burz choke, and Velnira gasped and stepped back at her first glimpse of the downed shatra.

“I think one of the mizagars may have turned on him,” Garander said. “Or maybe his own demon, because he was talking to Ethsharites.”

“He looks like he’s been dead for days,” Burz said.

“We spoke to it last night,” Velnira said. “Maybe it’s decaying quickly because some preserving magic is gone, and it’s making up for all those years time was kept at bay.”

Garander was pleased that he did not need to make that suggestion himself; he did not want to appear to have all the answers, as that might arouse suspicion. He was just a farmer, after all, not a magician or scholar.

“Go fetch the magicians,” Velnira ordered the soldier behind her. “Tell Lord Dakkar that the shatra is dead, and we await his instructions.”

“Should he tell Lady Shasha?” Garander asked. “She ought to know, too, shouldn’t she?”

Velnira threw him a sharp glance, and then looked at Tesk’s body-and at his equipment, scattered on the ground around him. “Make sure none of the Ethsharites see you,” she told the soldier. “We want to keep this quiet for now. Don’t let anyone see you or the magicians when you bring them back-maybe one of them can work a spell to ensure that.”

“I’ll do my best,” the soldier said, with a bob of his head. Then he was gone, crashing through the underbrush.

“All his weapons are still here,” Burz remarked. “Whatever killed him didn’t rob him.”

“Maybe there’s a protective spell on them,” Garander suggested. “Or maybe it really was a mizagar-they wouldn’t have any use for all those tools and talismans.”

“Maybe,” Velnira said.

“What should we do?” Garander asked.

“We wait,” Velnira told him. She gestured at a mound of dead leaves. “Have a seat, if you want.”

“I know you don’t want to tell Lady Shasha,” Garander said, “but shouldn’t I tell my family?”

“No,” Velnira snapped. “Sit down.” She suited her own actions to her words, slumping back against the base of a tree.

Garander hesitated, then found a spot of his own, not on the dead leaves, but nearby. He glanced up at Burz, but the soldier seemed content to stand.

“Poor Tesk,” he said, looking at his friend’s body again.

It was hard to believe that the shatra was not really dead; he looked ghastly. In addition to the slashed throat, blood ran from his mouth and nose and stained his clothing from neck to navel. Blackish rivulets had run down his side and pooled on the ground beneath him.

“Hard to believe he’s dead,” Burz said.

Velnira turned her head to stare at him. “Are you mad? Look at him!”

“Oh, I know he is dead,” Burz acknowledged. “I just don’t understand how he could be. I saw him fight; by the gods, I fought him myself. He was faster and stronger than anything I had ever seen before. If he had wanted to kill me, he could have done it at any time. But here he is, dead as a stone. If this was a mizagar’s work, then those things are even more dangerous than I thought.”

“It might have caught him off guard,” Garander suggested. “After all, he thought they were on the same side.”

“That’s true,” Velnira said, “but it might have been one of those wizards from Ethshar.”

“Why would they kill him?” Garander asked. “They were trying to hire him!”

“Maybe he told them no,” Velnira said.

“Oh,” Garander said. “You think that’s it?” He tried to decide whether he wanted the Ethsharites blamed for this. He probably did not; it might serve as a pretext for conflict.

There was something ludicrous in the idea that the barons might start a war with Ethshar to avenge the killing of a left-over Northern monster, especially when Lord Dakkar had announced last night that he would have the shatra killed if Tesk did not cooperate, but that did not mean it was impossible.

Velnira did not answer, and after a moment of awkward silence Garander asked, “Would a wizard leave his throat like that? I thought wizardry…well, that it either wouldn’t leave any marks at all, or that he’d be completely ripped to pieces.”

“I don’t know,” Velnira said, obviously nettled. “Ask the wizard when she gets here. Or he. Or they.”

Another uneasy silence settled over the threesome. Garander wished that they would get on with whatever they were going to do; he was worried that someone from Ethshar of the Sands would come looking for Tesk and stumble on the party.

He also feared that Tesk might shift position. He knew no ordinary man could stay so motionless for very long. Tesk, of course, was no ordinary man, but still, Garander could not help worrying.

It seemed like hours before the soldier returned with Sammel, Azlia, and a woman Garander did not recognize, but at last they came stomping through the forest, making what seemed to Garander like far more noise than necessary.

“There you are!” Velnira said. “What did Lord Dakkar said?”

“He won’t be coming himself,” the soldier replied. “He thought that would attract too much attention.”

“And of course, he’s worried that it might be a trap,” the unfamiliar woman said. Startled, Garander took a closer look at her.

She was short, and a bit plump, dressed in a red tunic embroidered in white, green, and gold over a respectable ankle-length green skirt. She was wearing boots-far more sensible for tramping around the forest than the shoes Velnira, Sammel, and Azlia had on. Given the soldier’s instructions and the fact that no one had remarked on her presence, Garander assumed she was a magician of some sort, but her clothes gave no indication of what kind of magician. Wizards traditionally liked hats and robes, while her head was bare and her clothes ordinary; although he had never met either one Garander had always heard that theurgists wore white and demonologists wore black. She might be another sorcerer, like Sammel or the man who had vanished after tampering with Tesk’s weapon, or she might be a witch, or something else entirely.

Whatever she was, Sammel glared at her and held two fingers to his lips in a shushing gesture. Then he lowered the fingers and looked at Tesk.

“Well, there’s not much question he’s dead,” the sorcerer said. “I don’t think even a demon could keep him alive in that condition.”

Azlia glanced at Garander and said nothing.

“Is there some way you can tell whether the demon is gone?” Velnira asked.

Sammel frowned. “I’m a sorcerer, not a demonologist.”

“Do we have a demonologist?”

“Not that I know of. Certainly not in Varag, and I don’t recall anyone in the delegation from Sardiron who looked like a demonologist.”

“Some demonologists prefer not to announce themselves,” the unknown woman said.

“Well, if someone’s keeping it secret, then we can’t invite him,” Sammel retorted.

“So we don’t have one,” Velnira said. “It’s up to you, Sammel.”

Sammel grimaced. “You saw what happened to Arnen.”

Velnira nodded. “Be careful,” she said.

Moving cautiously, Sammel approached the fallen shatra. Azlia, Velnira, and the two soldiers watched him intently.

The strange woman, though, watched Garander; he shifted uncomfortably, then glared back.

He had expected her to look away, but she did not; instead she beckoned to him, and stepped back, away from the others.

Intrigued, Garander gave the others one quick glance, then followed the stranger as she stepped behind a big oak.

The minute he joined her, she whispered, “You know he’s not dead.”

“Who are you?” Garander asked.

“My name is Zatha the Witch. You’re Garander Grondar’s son?”

“Yes.”

“You know he’s not dead. Why are you doing this?”

Garander threw a glance at Tesk. Sammel was carefully lifting one of the larger talismans from the shatra’s side.

“So they’ll leave him alone,” he said. “Lord Dakkar threatened to kill him; well, he can’t kill him if he’s already dead.”

“Where did you get the spell?”

Garander hesitated. It was none of the witch’s business. “Why do you want to know?” he asked.

“I want to know who knows he’s still alive. The more people who know a secret, the more likely it will come out.”

“A wizard from Ethshar,” Garander said. “And Azlia knows. No one else.”

“Will Sammel notice anything, do you think?”

“I don’t know. You’re the magician; I don’t know whether a sorcerer can see through a wizard’s spell. Until you called me over here, I didn’t know witches could.”

“Oh, this is exactly the sort of thing we’re good at, but sorcerers? I don’t know. If Sammel had seen anything, though, he’d have spoken up by now, so you may be safe.”

Garander looked over at the rest of the party. Sammel had retrieved several devices and passed them to the two soldiers. The Sardironese seemed more interested in looting the body than in Tesk’s condition.

“Is that stuff booby-trapped?” Zatha asked him.

His head whipped back to face her. “No! We wanted peace-that’s why we’re doing this. We were afraid those idiots would start a war over him.”

“Ah!” Zatha nodded. “And I’m sure Lord Dakkar would have tried, but the other barons aren’t all as hot-headed and stupid as he is. So those things are harmless?”

“I didn’t say that,” Garander whispered. “They’re real Northern equipment; they aren’t any safer than the one that killed Arnen. But they aren’t any less safe, either. The idea is to let the baron think he’s gotten something for his trouble.”

“Clever! And the Ethsharites?”

“We have more equipment hidden away. They’ll get their share.”

The witch nodded. “What if they decide to take the body with them?”

“Which? The Ethsharites?”

“Or my people, either one.”

Garander threw Tesk a glance. “He won’t allow it. He’s alive and conscious. If anyone tries to move him, he’ll probably kill them.”

“It seems to me that’s a flaw in your plan.”

“It’s a risk,” Garander admitted. “I did the best I could.”

“You did well,” she answered soothingly.

“Are you going to tell them he’s alive?”

She snorted. “Why would I do that? I don’t want them to capture your shatra or start a war any more than you do, even if my reasons are different.”

“Thank you,” Garander murmured.

She nodded, then stepped out from behind the tree and walked straight toward the rest of the group. Garander hurried after her, terrified that she had just lied to him and was about to expose his scheme.

“Don’t move the body,” Zatha said, as she strode up next to Sammel. “I sense danger. I think it would explode if disturbed. After all, the Northerners didn’t want anyone to study the shatra and learn their secrets.”

Startled, Sammel turned to her. “Are you sure?”

“No, I’m not sure-I’m a witch, not a sorcerer or a demonologist. But I sense danger.”

Sammel frowned, then handed the last of the Northern artifacts to Burz. Kneeling over Tesk, the sorcerer pulled his own pack off his shoulder and fished in it for a moment before bringing out a gleaming metal talisman.

“What are you doing?” Garander asked.

“I’m checking…” Sammel held the talisman over Tesk’s chest; a spot on its surface glowed yellow. The sorcerer sucked in his breath, then returned the talisman to his pack.

“You might be right,” he told Zatha. “There’s sorcery still active in his body, even though there’s no sign of life.”

Velnira stepped back; the two soldiers looked to her for instructions.

“If you’re planning to move the body, give me time to get clear,” Sammel said, straightening up and moving away.

“That won’t be necessary,” Velnira said. “We have his equipment, and we know he’s dead. Let us take it to the baron; if he wants anything more, he can say so.”

“Good,” Burz said, hefting a bundle of Northern sorcery.

“Come on,” Velnira said.

“I’ll go tell my family,” Garander said.

Velnira dismissed him with a wave, and marched off through the trees. The two soldiers followed her, carrying their loot; Sammel came close behind, lifting his pack back onto his shoulder.

Azlia hung back, watching Garander; Zatha moved to one side, as if attending to some private business of her own. Garander hurried to the wizard’s side.

“Thank you,” he whispered. He glanced toward the witch. “Zatha could tell he was alive, but she says she won’t tell anyone.”

“Is he really going to be all right?” Azlia asked. “He looks horrible!”

“He’s fine,” Garander said. “I talked to him before I went to get Velnira, while we were setting everything up. He’s fine. Thank you.”

Azlia hesitated a second longer, then turned and followed the others.

Then Zatha was there beside him.

“Good work,” she said. “I’ll try to put a little subtle pressure on Lord Dakkar, to get him to pack up and go home; I’m sure you don’t want him around.”

“Thank you,” Garander said. “Thank you for everything!”