Secrets at the Keep (Kingdom of Denall Book 2) (9 page)

“If you have a nickname for me, I thought it would be…”

“No,” she interrupted. “That’s not how this works.”

“Either way that was amazing!” Mylot said excitedly. “I can’t believe how quickly I moved. It was like opening a whole other side of my gift.” Before he could say any more he stumbled and sat down swaying back and forth.

Bethany nodded, “Oh yeah, you might feel light headed the first couple of times you use your gift for speed. It takes some practice and control. That’s why we’ve been doing the exercises. If you just go right into using your gift for speed, it can knock you unconscious for several hours.” She helped to ease Mylot down to sitting next to the fire. She held him steady and looked into his eyes, making sure he wasn’t going to pass out. “Strongarms are not just strong; we can do amazing things with our gift.” Then she hesitated for a moment. “You can’t share that with just anyone. If you do then we would lose our advantage.”

“What about other gifts?” Mylot’s interest was piqued. He was still feeling light headed, but his mind was gradually clearing and, although he felt like he could sit up straight on his own without Bethany’s support, he let her hold him for a time.

“They each have their own secrets, we worry about ours.” Mylot nodded. “So you keep practicing that and as a level five you will be picking those pebbles out of my hand in no time.” Mylot shot out his hand to grab the remaining pebble from her, but her hand was closed faster. “Well maybe not in no time,” she said with a sparkle in her eye that she only got when she really smiled.

Kaz stood up high in a tree, looking down on a campsite where three men dressed in worn, woolen clothing lay around a fire that was burning bright long after the sun had set. The large fire would easily draw the attention of anyone who was in the area.

His heart beat quickly and he anxiously shifted his weight back and forth as he pulled experimentally on his bowstring. A hand reached up and rested on his shin. “Calm down,” P whispered to him. “I don’t need to be a listener to hear your heart drumming from here. And you two,” she reached up to the branches above her and slapped Seed and Smudge on their legs, “If you cannot calm your breathing, I will send you both to wait with the horses. You are far too loud!”

Kaz glanced up to the two young men who, everyone agreed, should stay with Kaz as his “assistants.” Though they were both nearly as old as Kaz, and both extremely eager to participate in the uprising they hoped would bring their families freedom, no one wanted to see them get hurt. It had been agreed that Seed would keep Kaz’s extra quiver ready for him, and that Smudge would be ready to relay orders if necessary. Smudge looked eager for the action to start, and tossed a sly smile Kaz’s way before silently mimicking P’s scolding facial expressions. Seed, on the other hand, was staring fixedly out at the forest, an almost feverish gleam in his eyes as he waited for the plan to unfold. His breathing was very quick and heavy, and Kaz wondered whether the frail boy’s heart might not give out after even a few more such nights if he could not learn to calm himself.

Kaz looked down at P and couldn’t help but envy the way she seemed to be able to treat every situation as though it was the simplest thing in the world. She always seemed so calm and collected. In the weeks it had taken them to travel all the way from Lexingar, he could count on his hand the number of times she had shown even the slightest bit of surprise or excitement.

Her face almost always wore a calm, almost stoic look, except when she spoke to the men from Hess about their families and the others living in slavery. Kaz knew what she was doing was an expression of her deep love for those people, but the emotions of love, concern and excitement never showed; she just looked like a statue—a very attractive statue.

After all the careful plans, after the long journey, now they were about to reveal part of Omer’s treachery, and in the process, help get supplies for an uprising.

P tapped Kaz’s soft leather boot and threw a small stone down on the ground next to the men at the fire. They heard the sound and responded by rolling over on the thin canvas that had been used for tents on the journey, and which were now being used for ground cover. Kaz looked out into the distance and saw some movement in the trees. A group of thieves was approaching the campsite.

When the thieves got closer, Kaz tensed and raised his bow to the ready position. His job was to watch the thieves and make sure they were stopped if they actually posed any threat to the men in the camp.

The thieves entered the light of the fire. “Get up slowly or we'll gut you where you sleep,” the leader threatened.

The men around the fire got up slowly and, just as P had directed, acted scared. “Don't hurt us,” Digger said, clasping his hands pleadingly. “Take whatever you want.” He pointed at their packs.

While the first thief picked up the pack, the other three kept clubs raised. The leader picked through the bags and took all of the food, the only thing of value they were carrying. “There's nothing good here!” he said, enraged, as he backhanded Digger. At this point their trap was almost spoiled, Digger instinctively swung back and landed a punch squarely on the man's nose. Blood streamed down his face as he grabbed for his broken nose and stepped back. The other three bandits raised their clubs and moved menacingly toward Digger. Kaz drew his bowstring back, but P silently waved for him to let the scene play out.

Digger put up his hands and naturally fell back into the role of a helpless man being robbed. “I'm sorry, it was an instinct. You can take whatever you want, please don't hurt me.”

He pleaded so convincingly that the leader of the thieves simply returned a square punch to Digger's face and spat on him while turning to his friends. “He's not worth it.”

P made another motion with her hand, meaning that the soldiers were coming. Shortly after seeing her motion, Kaz held up his hand with one finger, then a two with the same hand indicating that he could see twelve men approaching. The thieves also heard the noises. “Let's get out of here,” the leader said. “It must be Omer's patrol coming.” They retreated from the campfire and unknowingly ran straight into five armed and angry slaves hiding deeper in the woods.

Into the light of the campfire came a full patrol of twelve riders with gleaming armor bearing the crest of Omer. The scene seemed very familiar to Kaz. The leader offered to help the poor, lost people back to a nearby road, telling them about the dangers of camping so far off the main roads. P raised her hand and her men in the trees silently drew their bows.

One of their men below couldn’t resist the urge to make a sideways glance up toward the trees, causing one of Omer's men to follow his gaze. For a moment it seemed he may not have noticed Kaz and P as they froze in place, afraid to even breathe, and he began to turn back to the men on the ground in front of him. Just then Kaz could see out of the corner of his eye that Seed had raised a hand to his heart. The small movement must have also caught the patrolman’s attention, because his eyes flew wide and he looked back to them again, reared his horse back, and loudly warned, “Get out! It's a trap.”

P dropped her arm to signal the first volley of arrows, and instantly eight of the twelve soldiers were calling out a chorus of pain with arrows protruding from their thighs. Several of them fell from their horses, crying out in agony. The three men by the fire had grabbed carefully concealed short staves and began trying to take down the lead rider. The three men with staves were hardly a match for the rider with a long sword, but they were able to distract him long enough for Kaz to nock and shoot a bodkin-pointed arrow right through his chainmail. The rider screamed out in pain as he also tumbled to the ground.

The eight men who had been hiding in the trees jumped to the ground rushed to the wounded soldiers and finished them off with a gusto Kaz had not thought to have ever seen from them. One of Omer's soldiers turned his horse and bolted for the woods. P pointed at him and Kaz drew his bow. The man dodged between trees as he made his way toward the keep. “Shoot him!” P shouted, but Kaz continued to wait for a clear shot.

When the soldier was out of range for any average archer, P scowled at Kaz, and jumped to the ground to grab the reins of one of the fallen soldiers’ horses. Before she could pursue the rider, he slowed down, and Kaz released his arrow, taking down the retreating soldier.

P gave Kaz a surprised and approving look, then jumped down out of the saddle, curved short swords in her hands. This trap was her idea, and she was determined to be part of the action. She confronted a soldier who was off his horse. He approached confidently, swinging his sword in a long, arcing slice. P easily ducked under his arm and wheeled around, thrusting one short sword between his breastplate and helmet. He fell, lifeless, to the ground. Now P ran toward the 'thieves' to see if there were any left alive.

Even though the men were fairly new to using bows, they had made short work of the patrol. When the soldiers were all dead, the victors removed the armor and collected the weapons from the fallen enemies. They doused the fire and took the horses and other spoils of war back to their true campsite, which was concealed a safe distance from the ambush site. The men were chattering excitedly about how successful the evening had gone when P returned with the food the thieves had taken, “Did we lose anyone?”

Digger was the first to answer. “No, we're all here, and look at all this loot.”

“We’re going to need to do more weapons training,” Kaz commented while he looked over the steel swords, a crossbow, armor and horses. From the 'thieves' they had gotten clubs. Now the men had real weapons -- not just walking staves.

“What we need right now is to cover any evidence of our having been here. We don’t need Omer’s thugs figuring out what is happening for many nights to come. Let’s get moving to get these bodies moved. There is a ravine not far from here. We can bury them with a rockslide pretty easily. Let’s go men!” Then, turning to Kaz, she said, “You stay here and handle those two.”

He turned then toward a clanking sound behind him and was startled for a moment to see two armored patrolmen approaching before he realized that the “patrolmen” were far too short, and far too skinny for the armor they were wearing.

“This is great!” exclaimed Smudge after opening the visor to the too-large helmet he had on his head. “We look great, don’t we Seed?” Seed nodded as best he could, his own helmet wobbling all over as he did so. “Tell me, mister, what are you doing out here at night without a pass? I think you need a taste of my steel here!” He gruffed at Kaz with a deep voice.

Kaz put his hands up and feigned fear. “Please, have mercy!”

“If you can answer my riddle, I’ll think about it. In your pocket it’s a treat, in the ground it’s a baby and in the air it will make you sneeze!”

Kaz found himself truly baffled. He had never heard such a riddle. He looked helplessly to Asher who was busy tying the horses to some nearby trees before heading to help at the ravine. He was laughing happily, watching this interrogation play out. “A seed!” he called out.

Smudge whirled on him and pointed an accusing finger. “No help allowed! You’re next, old man!” Asher simply laughed harder and waved the young man off as he turned to head in the direction P had gone. “One more try,” Smudge said, turning back to Kaz. “Give him a good one, Seed!”

Seed fumbled to open the visor on his helmet and looked at Smudge with surprise. “But you took my favorite one,” he complained. When Smudge simply nodded back in Kaz’s direction, Seed cleared his throat and stuttered out, “It’s bent as an o-old m-man, f-fresh as a child, and sharper than the s-smartest mage.”

Kaz really had to think about this one. Finally an idea came to him, as he thought about weeding in Gran’s garden in Dungan. “A rose bush!” He said triumphantly. Smudge and Seed were clearly enjoying the game. They continued with riddles and stories for the better part of an hour while the other men shuttled the bodies of Omer’s patrolmen and hired thieves to the ravine.

By the early hours of the morning the group had finished their work and continued on their way closer to Omer's Keep, following the ravine north for several miles. They were able to conceal themselves in a thickly wooded area that overlooked the keep.

“We'll rest here for the day, and then tomorrow night we'll strike again,” P told the men.

As the men prepared for sleep, Kaz approached P. “What are we doing tomorrow?” P did not respond at first, but after Kaz gazed steadfastly at her, P conceded.

“Omer is a level four strongarm.” She looked down for a moment and added, “Brainpower is not his strong suit. The schemes and deceptions he has perpetrated for so many years require a very astute mind.”

Kaz nodded. “So you don't think he's the brains behind the operations.”

Nodding, she replied. “Exactly. Digger and some of the other slaves heard of two intellects working as advisors for Omer. I’ve only ever known him to have one, and he was as brilliant as he was cruel. I want to get a closer look and see who is really running the day to day affairs of his operations. Then I want to remove them. If we cannot remove them, this entire mission will be pointless.”

“And if we can remove them?”

She looked up to see if anyone else was listening, then quietly answered. “It will still be a long shot.” Then more cheerfully she added, “But making long shots seems to be your specialty. Get some sleep. I need you at your best tomorrow. The hardest part is still to come.”

*****

The Algernon caravan set up in a circle outside the village of Cotham. The trip had been uneventful as they travelled along the Gulpa River, but now outside the medium sized village, the people were filled with excitement at the prospect of having a caravan visiting. The children ran among the carts with eager smiles as parents were asking about the wares they had brought with them this year.

Farin was helping Blade set up his wagon when he saw a man from the village head directly to Odon’s wagon. “Who is that?” he asked Blade while pointing at the man who walked as though he was someone of importance.

“That’s Caleb,” Blade answered as he set up a table with assorted pieces of tanned leather. “He’s the mayor of Cotham. A very nice and reasonable man. Probably just coming to welcome us to the area.”

While he was getting the practice ring set up for his daily sparing with Angela, Farin overheard something Caleb said that drew his attention. “Odon is his name.”

Farin turned and saw Odon smiling and nodding his head. “Yes we met him a while back. He seemed like a wonderful young man.”

Caleb shook his head, “Do you even know who his father was? He is a criminal and a liar.”

“I think people can change,” Odon argued. “And I don’t think people always turn out to be like their parents. What did your father do for a living?” he asked.

“My father was a carpenter,” Caleb answered.