Relics of War

Chapter Twenty-Four

Garander did not go back to the house to tell his family; he waited until everyone was safely out of sight, then knelt down and asked Tesk, “Are you all right?”

“I am fine,” he replied, lifting his head; if Garander had not known it was an illusion, he would have wondered how the shatra could move enough air through his ruined throat to get the words out. Tesk sat up, and shook clots of red-black blood from his arms.

“We need to get more equipment,” Garander said. “Then I’ll bring the Ethsharites.”

“I know this,” Tesk answered, looking around at the trampled ground. “We should use another place.”

Garander had not really thought about that, but a single glance made it obvious that Tesk was right. “And we should make it look like something has dragged you away,” he said. “In case Velnira or Burz comes back.”

Tesk considered this for a moment, then stood up. “Lie down,” he said.

“What?”

“Lie down where I was. I will drag you away.”

“Me?”

“Yes. I am stronger than you and heavier than you.”

“Stronger, yes…” Garander said, looking at Tesk’s lean figure.

“And heavier. I am not human. There are things inside me that weigh many pounds.”

Garander had to concede that could be true, and he reluctantly lay back on the bloody earth.

He was startled, though, when Tesk did not grab him by the arms, as he had expected, but by the neck. “Hai!” he protested.

“Do not struggle,” Tesk ordered. “You are pretending to be my corpse, being dragged by a beast such as a mizagar.”

“Urgh,” Garander said. Tesk was not trying to strangle him, but the powerful hands around his throat could not help but make it difficult to talk. He tried to relax as the shatra dragged him between two trees, and several yards along the forest floor. He closed his eyes, so as not to look at the hideous pallor and phantasmal blood of Tesk’s enchanted face and body, and found that made it easier.

When Tesk finally released him Garander opened his eyes, sat up, and rubbed his back. “I’m going to have bruises,” he said.

“Probably,” Tesk agreed. “Now let us prepare again.”

It took almost an hour to find a suitable spot and arrange Tesk and another collection of Northern equipment there, but finally they were both satisfied with the tableau they had created, and Garander hurried off to fetch the Ethsharites.

Lady Shasha did not bring any guards, but when Ellador offered to accompany her she made no objection. That made matters much simpler for Garander; he and the wizard checked Tesk for signs of life and gathered up the various sorcerous devices, and only needed to fool a single observer.

Of course, Lady Shasha appeared to be brighter and more alert than Velnira, but even so, having one of her own trusted magicians assuring her that the shatra was indeed dead was sufficient to convince her.

“It couldn’t be a sorcerous illusion?” she asked.

Ellador made a few meaningless gestures with his dagger, then assured her, “No, my lady.”

That appeared to satisfy her. She did ask Garander to help carry the equipment back to the Ethsharite campsite, and to thank his parents for their hospitality, and he could not see any reason to antagonize her by refusing. She apologized for not saying her own farewells, but said that Lord Edaran would want to receive the news-and the talismans-as swiftly as possible.

Delivering the Northern devices took some time, so it was an hour or so before Garander was able to return and allow Tesk to once again drag him away.

There was scarcely another hour remaining before noon when Garander finally left the forest and returned home to do his much-delayed chores.

He saw that the baron’s party was breaking camp and packing up, clearly preparing for departure. The Ethsharites, who had kept almost their entire camp on the flying carpet, were already gone; he could see them far to the south, a black speck against the midday sky.

His father found him there, staring at the distant carpet. “Where have you been?” Grondar demanded. “What have you done?”

“Good morning, Father,” Garander said.

“One of the baron’s soldiers told me they’re leaving. He said their business here was done, and they won’t be back.”

Garander nodded.

“What happened to the shatra, then? Did he go with them? Or with the Ethsharites?” He gestured toward the southern sky, where the carpet had now vanished over the horizon.

Garander shook his head. “He’s dead,” he said. “That’s why they’re going.”

“Dead?” Grondar said, his eyes widening. “How? What happened?”

Garander bit his lip; he had not thought about how his parents would react to the news. Grondar looked more upset than he had expected. “I…I think one of the mizagars turned on him. Maybe it didn’t like him talking to all those people.”

“How did you find out?”

“Um…I went into the woods looking for him, early this morning,” Garander said. “I found his body with the throat torn open.”

“You did? Where?”

“In the forest. I told you.”

“Show me!”

“But I haven’t done my chores, and it’s almost noon!”

“That can wait! Show me!”

This had been no part of Garander’s plan; he hesitated, wondering if perhaps he should tell his father the truth, but that had rarely worked out well where Tesk was concerned. He mentally turned up a palm and said, “This way.”

He hoped that Tesk was well clear; he did not want to try to explain any anomalies to his father. Of course, the shatra would probably hear them coming.

He could have gone to either site, but he chose the one he had shown the Ethsharites, since it was slightly closer. He only remembered at the last minute to feign surprise at the disappearance of Tesk’s body.

“He was here!” he said, pointing at the blood-soaked moss and flattened undergrowth. “He was right here!”

“He isn’t here now,” Grondar said. “Are you sure he was really dead?”

“His throat was ripped open! I could see his spine; his head was half-off!”

“Then where did he go?”

“Well, he certainly didn’t get up and walk away,” Garander said. “Either some animal got him, or some of our guests stole the body for their magicians to study.” He pointed to the trail he and Tesk had made. “It looks as if something dragged him away.”

Grondar frowned. “That shouldn’t have happened. He deserved better. I was going to build him a pyre.”

“His demon part might not have liked that,” Garander said.

“Huh,” Grondar replied. “I hadn’t thought of that. Maybe it woke up and walked the body away.”

“Could it do that?”

“How should I know? I’m no demonologist.” He shook his head.

They both stared at the bloodstains and other marks for a moment longer, then turned and headed back toward the house.

They were perhaps halfway home when Grondar said, “Ishta will be heartbroken.”

“I know,” Garander answered.

“She’ll suspect something, with all the visitors leaving.”

“I know.” He hesitated, then asked, “Do you want me to tell her?”

Grondar did not reply immediately, but then said, “I think that might be best. You saw the body, and I did not. She may think I still hate Tesk for being a Northerner. She may accept it better from you. But I’m her father; it’s my responsibility.”

“I don’t mind,” Garander said. “I think she will take it better from me.”

“Then I will leave it to you.” Garander thought he heard relief in his father’s voice, though of course Grondar tried to hide it.

When they reached the house Grondar sent his son to the barn to feed the livestock and muck out, with instructions to come straight inside to eat as soon as he was done. Garander obeyed.

He was feeding the pigs when Ishta appeared. “Father said you wanted to see me,” she said.

Garander had been thinking about how to deal with this. He did not want to see his sister crying over Tesk, but he did not want her to give away any secrets, either. “I did,” he said.

“Is it about Tesk?”

He nodded.

“Is he all right?”

“The baron thinks he’s dead,” Garander said. “So does Lady Shasha.”

Ishta sucked in her breath. “They do?”

Garander nodded again.

“Do you think he’s dead?”

“I’m not going to answer that right away.”

“So you don’t. What’s going on, Garander?”

“If they all think he’s dead, they’ll go away and stop bothering us.”

“I know. I saw them leave. But is he all right?”

“I showed them his corpse,” he told her. “I helped them steal all his equipment. Then they left him in the woods-they thought his body might be booby-trapped, so they didn’t try to move him. But if anyone goes back to look, they’ll find what Father and I saw-the body is gone. Something dragged it away.”

“Garander, you’re scaring me!”

“They all think maybe a mizagar killed him because he was getting too friendly with enemies of the Northern Empire. Or maybe it was his demon. Whatever it was, it ripped out his throat; there was blood everywhere. And whatever it was came back later and dragged the body away.”

“Garander!” He could see her eyes starting to well up.

That was good. He wanted her a little upset, so she could fool their parents.

“But the thing is,” he continued, “how could they both steal all his equipment? Velnira had two soldiers carry away armloads. Lady Shasha had me and one of her wizards help her carry everything.”

“What?” Ishta tried to blink away the incipient tears.

“Isn’t it just a little convenient, him dying like that?” he went on. “But both sides will think it must be real, because of all the magical stuff they took. He wouldn’t let that happen if he were still alive, would he?”

“Garander!”

“But what if he had extra equipment? There were Northerners all around here once, and they must have left supplies behind, and Tesk would know about them.”

She just stared at him as he hung up the now-empty feed bucket.

“Did you ever hear Father talk about a spell the Ethsharitic army used to use to fool Northerners into thinking that soldiers were dead, when they weren’t? It turns out one of Lady Shasha’s wizards knows it; he says it’s called the Sanguinary Deception.”

“You fooled them!” Ishta burst into a smile.

Garander held two fingers up to his mouth.

“So Father doesn’t know?”

“He might tell the baron if he thought Tesk was still alive.”

The smile vanished.

“You’ll need to be much more careful than before,” Garander said.

Ishta nodded.

“Don’t wipe away those tears.”

She nodded again, and smiled feebly.

Lunch was a somber affair. Ishta did not say a word, and as soon as the meal was done and the table had been cleared she vanished into the room she shared with her sister.

The baron’s party had gone, leaving the west and north fields a mess; the Ethsharites had done considerably less damage. Grondar and his son went to work cleaning up the debris.

That took most of the afternoon, and for the most part father and son worked side by side in silence. The sun was low in the west when they headed back toward the barn to dump the bags of trash and put away their hoes and rakes.

They had just stepped inside when Grondar said, without preamble, “He’s not really dead, is he?”

Startled, Garander said, “What?”

“He’s not dead. It wouldn’t be that easy. Even if it was something Northern.”

“I don’t know,” Garander said.

“And the others-they wouldn’t have just left. They came here for Northern magic.”

“All his things were gone,” Garander said.

“But they both left,” his father insisted. “If one of them had found the body first, they would have taken everything, and the other side would have put up an argument.”

“Maybe they agreed to share.”

“That fast? No.” He shook his head. “I don’t know what you did, son. I don’t want to know. But he’s alive, isn’t he?”

Garander looked his father in the eye and said nothing.

Grondar nodded. “Good,” he said. “Don’t say anything. Then I can’t tell anyone anything, no matter how tired or drunk or careless I get. Does Ishta know? Because at lunch…” He did not finish his sentence.

“I didn’t tell her everything,” Garander said. “I didn’t want her to look too happy, but I didn’t want to make her miserable needlessly, either.”

“Well done. But she’ll need to be very careful if she visits him anymore.”

“She knows.”

Grondar nodded again.

“Good,” he said again.

And that was that.