Council of War (19 page)

"I am not afraid to die," retorted Gerant. "I will gladly go into battle against whatever lives in these woods, but I will not sit idly by and wait to be eaten."

Gerant jumped to his feet and grabbed his bow. Karl spun and wrapped his arms around the elf's legs before he could take two steps. Gerant tumbled to the ground and lost his grip on the bow. Karl swiftly crawled on top of the elf and held him to the ground. Gerant was no weakling, but Karl outweighed the thin elf considerably. He pinned the elf's arms to the ground.

"You are part of a group, Gerant," Karl said softly. "While you might prefer to die in battle this very night, there are others here depending on your skill to keep them alive. They have not lost hope of escaping the Forest of Death, and neither have I. Now, calm down and think rationally. Lyron needs your protection, and your prince also requires it. We are also responsible for the sailors among us."

Gerant had been struggling to get up off the ground, but Karl's calm voice seemed to have had the desired effect. Slowly, the elf relaxed. Karl cautiously let go of Gerant's arms and stood up. He extended a hand down to the elf, but Gerant remained unmoving, face down in the clearing.

"Something is moving out there," Max said anxiously.

The forest had darkened considerably, and it was hard to see anything outside the clearing, but everyone looked in the direction Max had been looking. Even Gerant raised his head off the ground.

"Clint, Shawn," Karl said sternly, "keep watching your own sectors. I don't want us to be diverted from another attack. Prince Rigal, take over my sector. Gerant, get your bow and join me."

Gerant grabbed his bow and stood next to Karl. The Knight of Alcea pulled his sword as the elf nocked an arrow.

"Steady," Karl whispered to Gerant. "Let whatever it is come in closer. As soon as it reaches the clearing, aim to kill."

"But it will not die," frowned the elf. "The horse I shot got up and walked away. Lyron's rabbit bit him and ran away."

"That is what my sword is for," Karl smiled thinly. "You knock it down, and I will make sure that it stays down if I have to hack it into tiny bits."

Something moved from tree to tree not thirty paces from the edge of the clearing. Karl and Gerant both saw the movement, but they could not determine what was out there.

"We shouldn't let it know that we are watching it," whispered Gerant. "Try to watch it without looking directly in that direction."

Karl nodded silently as he changed his posture to make it look as if he were talking to the elf. For a long time, nothing happened except the continued darkening of the sky. When the last vestiges of dusk receded, the creature made its move. It charged into the clearing.

"No!" shouted Ecaro as he rose and starting running towards his brother. "It's Alando."

Gerant froze, unwilling to release his arrow into the sailor.

"Shoot!" commanded Karl. "It is no longer Alando."

Gerant released his arrow, and it struck Alando in the center of the forehead. The one-time sailor pitched to one side and smashed to the ground. Karl raced forward, as Ecaro faltered and wailed in horror at his brother's death. The Knight of Alcea didn't hesitate to swing his long sword and sever the creature's head from its body.

"Gerant," called Karl, "come with me as I dispose of this body."

The Knight of Alcea dragged the body out of the clearing as the elf picked up the severed head and followed. Karl dragged the body far enough into the woods so that it could not be seen from the clearing.

"Are we going to bury it?" asked the elf.

"No," replied Karl. "Just throw the head down with the rest. While the sailor deserves a decent burial, this is not the sailor we knew. Alando died last night, not tonight. Besides, I do not want the two of us out here any longer than necessary. I just wanted to get the body out of view of the brothers. Alando's death is already hard enough on them without having to constantly gaze upon his remains."

Karl gazed around the dark forest anxiously and then nodded towards the campsite. The two warriors returned to the clearing where Cirris was comforting his last brother. Karl addressed the group and set up the shifts for guarding the camp. The sailors were tired and drifted off to sleep without prompting, but the warriors were restless and sat silently staring off into the darkness for a while. Eventually, even they retired, leaving the elves to take the first shift. An hour later the distant howling began.

"Wolves," Gerant commented softly. "Perhaps they smell the blood in the air."

"Over the smoke?" asked Prince Rigal.

"Smoke?" questioned Gerant.

"I have been smelling smoke for some time now," nodded the elven prince. "Can't you smell it?"

Gerant sniffed the air and eventually nodded.

"Faint," remarked Gerant, "but smoke it is. I wonder what is burning."

"Whatever it is," shrugged Prince Rigal, "it is not close by."

Gerant suddenly stiffened. "The smoke might not be close by," he said anxiously, "but something else is."

Prince Rigal glanced at Gerant and saw him staring into the trees. He followed Gerant's gaze and saw two eyes staring at him. While he could not see the shape of the creature, the eyes were like two bright stars in an otherwise black sky. The prince slowly grabbed an arrow and nocked it.

"It's gone," whispered Gerant.

"You mean we can't see it any more," corrected the prince. "I do not think it is gone."

A few minutes later Prince Rigal nodded to the right, and Gerant turned to see the eyes again.

"Should we wake the others?" asked Gerant.

Prince Rigal glanced at the sleeping warriors and then shook his head. "If everyone stays awake the entire night," he said, "we will not be able to keep up the pace tomorrow. Perhaps that is why the creature is here in the first place."

"What do you mean?" asked Gerant.

"If you knew that a group was determined to get through your forest," explained the elven prince, "would you attack them the first night? Or would you seek to deprive them of sleep and reason and then attack them when they are weary and sluggish? Even a wolf pack will keep its prey on the run to wear it down before closing in for the kill."

"Surely you do not think those are mere wolves out there?" retorted Gerant. "I have never seen eyes like that before."

"Nor have I," agreed the prince, "but whatever it is, it wants to be seen. Ask yourself why it wants that."

"To spook us?" asked Gerant.

"Exactly," nodded Prince Rigal.

* * *

Morro led Garth through the slums of Farmin in the dark of the night. Not many people were moving about the city as dawn was only a few hours away, but more than a few were sleeping outside in the filth of the alleys. Those were the ones so poor that they did not even have a roof over their heads for the night. Garth tried to ignore the shapes he saw littering the ground, but his battle instincts required that he take notice of everything around him.

Morro halted at the end of an alley. He paused in the darkness for a moment, listening for the sounds of anyone walking about. Satisfied that they had not been followed, Morro opened a door and slid into a dark room. Garth followed silently and eased the door shut. With the door closed, even the scant light given off by the stars was lost. The room was pitch black and could not be traversed without having first memorized it in the daylight.

"Put your hand on my shoulder," Morro whispered.

Garth immediately complied, and Morro slowly made his way through the room. He stopped briefly to open another door and then continued onward. Another room was crossed and another door was passed through, and Garth began to get the idea that they were passing through several interconnected shacks. He thought about the idea, and a smile came to his lips. Soldiers trying to sneak through such an elaborate approach would surely give enough notice of their advance that sneaking up on the thieves would not be possible. He began to admire the thoroughness of the thieves of Farmin. Eventually, Morro halted and reached up to remove Garth's hand from his shoulder. The elven thief placed Garth's hand on the back of a chair in front of him.

"Sit," Morro said softly. "Juggler will be with us in a moment."

Garth eased around the chair and sat down. He could hear Morro doing the same next to him. For several long minutes, the two men sat in total darkness, awaiting the presence of the head thief of Farmin. Garth listened carefully for the man's approach, but he never heard it. The first sound that hit his ears was the man's voice.

"Who is Garth Shado?" asked the voice.

Garth was not startled by the sound because he was expecting it, but he could imagine how someone who was not expecting it might have felt. He automatically turned his head slightly to face the voice, although the effort was fruitless. There was no light in the room to see by, but that didn't mean that Garth could not hit the thief with a Lanoirian star. He had killed men before by locating them through the sound of their voice.

"I am," Garth stated.

"So I am told," the head thief replied, "but just who are you?"

Garth hesitated. The silence in the room was imposing as the thief waited for a reply. Garth sighed in frustration. He knew that the thief would not be satisfied with rehearing his cover story about being a merchant. If he had been willing to accept that story, he would not be pressing further.

"Perhaps coming here was a mistake," the Knight of Alcea stated. "I was told that you could help me with an endeavor that I am undertaking, but I am not prepared to discuss myself any more than you are. I came respecting your privacy in the thought that you would do the same."

Garth silently fisted a star in the lull that followed his statement.

"Fair enough," Juggler finally said. "Morro vouches for you, and that is sufficient for now, but I have to wonder why a merchant from Tyronia should have any interest in the poor people of Farmin."

"Call it a soft heart," replied Garth, "but I cannot stand idly by while so many suffer through no fault of their own. Is it wrong to want to do something about it?"

"It is not wrong," Juggler replied, "but do you really think a one-time operation will really change anything?"

"No," Garth admitted, "but that is the best that I can do for now."

"For now?" questioned Juggler. "Are you planning to help the people further in the future?"

"I am," answered Garth, "but I am not prepared to talk about my future plans at the moment."

"Interesting," mused Juggler. "Morro has not mentioned anything about that."

"Nor should he have," countered Garth. "My interests are not specifically centered on Farmin."

"So," Juggler smiled, "you seek the downfall of the Federation then. Why not share your plans? You must know that I would keep your secret."

"I know no such thing," retorted Garth. "Morro has spoken highly of you, and I trust his judgment, but I do not know you. You on the other hand have already had a chance to observe me and my people, and I have no doubt that you have taken that opportunity. The fact that you keep your face hidden from me shows that you do not trust me. Why then should I trust you?"

"The darkness is for my safety," countered Juggler. "You could be an assassin from the Federation who has managed to gain the trust of Morro."

"If I were an assassin out to kill you," smiled Garth, "you would already be dead."

"Preposterous," balked Juggler.

"Do not ask for a demonstration, Juggler," Morro interjected. "Garth does not boast. If he wanted to, he could kill both of us and be out of here before anyone noticed. You both have many goals in common. Let's forget the games and talk about them."

A moment of silence followed and then the sound of a striker shot through the room. Garth slid the star into his pouch. A candle began to glow, and the room illuminated enough for Garth to see Juggler sitting behind a desk. The head thief was an older man, with more than one scar upon his face. He pushed the candle to the side of the desk and nodded to Garth.

"No games," Juggler said. "I am naturally leery. I have found that it tends to prolong my life."

"I understand," smiled Garth. "Has Morro mentioned what we need from you?"

"He has," replied Juggler. "I have no problem in supplying everything you need, but I confess that I am skeptical. You are a stranger to our city, yet you seem to want to dive right in and get involved. That causes me to suspect your motives."

"My motives are pure," Garth said reassuringly. "I just want to get some food to the people of the slums. I am not foolish enough to believe that it will make a long-lasting improvement in their lives, but it will at least fill their bellies for a day or two."

"And then you will move on?" asked Juggler.

"And then we will move on," Garth said as he stared at the head thief. "The problem of feeding the people will then fall to someone else."

"Fair enough," stated Juggler. "The uniforms are right there," he pointed to a shelf on the wall. "I can have the people assembled within an hour's notice, although I can't imagine how you will be able to determine their schedule ahead of time."

"We can do that," smiled Garth. "What about the map?"

Juggler reached into a desk drawer and pulled out a folded cloth. He pushed it towards Garth, and the Knight of Alcea picked it up and inspected it.

"I have marked the streets and alleys in question," explained Juggler. "It would be advisable for you to walk those areas before the event."

"I intend to," nodded Garth. "Will there be any repercussion on the people of the slums?"

"That depends upon how well you pull it off," frowned Juggler. "My main hesitation when Morro described the raid was because of the potential for the wrath of the Federation to fall upon the poor people. He assures me that your group can handle it in such a way as to alleviate that."

"We can," replied Garth, "but I was worried more along the lines of retaliation after it is over."

"Who would they retaliate against?" grinned Juggler. "Are they going to punish the entire slum? I think not. What can they do to a people who are already on the verge of death? If there is retaliation, it will be against the soldiers who were careless."