The Jewel of Turmish c-3 Page 6

  "No more than anyone else I don't know," Druz replied truthfully. She held up her hands, dragging the heavy chain up after them. "I wouldn't have wished this on you."

  The druid nodded. "Nor I you." He paused for a moment, glancing back at the campsite, then said, "However, if something happened to you, there would be no witness to tell the man who hired you that his son had been avenged. Other hunters would be employed, and more wolves would die."

  "And that's what worries you?" Druz didn't even try to keep the sarcasm from her voice.

  Shifting his dark gaze back to her, the druid said, "Those men would die, too. Would that concern you?"

  Druz considered the possibility only for a moment. Images of other hunters getting picked off one by one in the forest filled her head.

  "If you killed those men," she said, "they would put a bounty on your head."

  "Yes."

  Or maybe there already is one. The thought occurred to Druz in a flash. It wouldn't have been the first time a druid from the Emerald Enclave was marked for death by one of the cities of the Vilhon Reach.

  She said, "I don't even know your name."

  The druid was silent for a time. He shifted against the tree, uncomfortable, and said, "I am called Haarn Brightoak."

  Druz shook her head. Knowing his name now, when they were both captives, somehow made the situation worse. She pushed her breath out and tried to relax.

  "You should have escaped."

  "I couldn't," Haarn replied.

  "Because of me?"

  The druid gazed at her and said, "Partly, but if I hadn't surrendered myself, these men might have tried to get away."

  A chill spread across Druz's shoulders and ran down her spine. She'd heard terrible stories about druids. Some sages maintained that the druids, including members of the Emerald Enclave, were good and honest men and women whose reverence for nature clouded their judgment and made them do things that didn't fit in with civilized thinking. Others proclaimed the druids as savages, capable of torture and brutal killing.

  Most of the other people tied to the slaver chain slept. Druz counted twenty-seven men, women, and children other than herself and the druid. One woman held a small child to her breast. All of the slaves looked hard-used, as if they'd been on the chain for days, perhaps even as much as a tenday. Their skin was sunburned and their clothing, common and homespun at best, hung in rags.

  "Where did these people come from?" Druz asked.

  "A small village somewhere close by," Haarn answered.

  "You don't know where?"

  "Some of the outlying villages don't have names. They learn to be autonomous, trading only occasionally with passing merchants or each other. Many of them don't see the need to pay the taxes cities like Alagh?n levy on people who only try to survive." The druid turned to her and added, "Living in such conditions, paying faceless tax agents of Lord Herengar and the Assembly of Stars, isn't much better than living in the servitude they're bound for now."

  Druz bridled at the comment. Though she didn't know Lord Herengar personally, she knew of him.

  "Lord Herengar is a good man," she said, "a fair man."

  "Before he was named as ruler of Turmish, acting on behalf of the Assembly of Stars," Haarn said, "he was a leader of a mercenary band called the Call of Arms. He acted in his own interests then, and he continues to do so now."

  "Those taxes you speak out against help make the city safe," Druz insisted.

  In the back of her mind, she knew she should be more concerned about escaping, but there was something about the druid that challenged her and made her want to make him see cities the way they really were-as homes and havens. Maybe it was the dismissive way he treated her, and maybe it was because she'd never been around a man so arrogant and confident as the druid. Even here in the midst of the slavers he spoke as if he'd trapped them instead of it being the other way around.

  Haarn smiled and said, "So Herengar heads up a new mercenary band and demands tribute for his services-one that pays much better."

  "Most people in the city wouldn't know how to fight to defend themselves," Druz argued.

  "And they lose themselves because they are not taught to do that," Haarn said bluntly. "Take away a person's ability to protect himself, to know enough to survive on his own, and you only have a slave. A privileged slave, perhaps, but a slave nonetheless." He took up the padded chain. "Maybe you can't see the chains on those 'citizens,' Druz Talimsir, but they are there."

  "Cities allow people to raise their children in peace." Druz disliked the way the druid seemed to look down on everything about her. "I've fought, defending towns and cities during time of war."

  "Against others who felt certain that whatever it was they were after from the places you defended rightly belonged to them," Haarn stated angrily, "because they decided to own one section of a land or another."

  "Territorial wars are the most common-" Druz started to go on, but the druid cut her off.

  "The land isn't meant to be owned," Haarn said. "It's meant to be treasured and tended. The land will provide sustenance to creatures that understand its needs and its gifts. Cities are spawning grounds for maggots that reap what they will of the land and leave only a decaying husk behind."

  The vehemence in the druid's voice surprised Druz enough that she stilled her tongue.

  "Loggers fell trees from forests," Haarn continued, "and they never give thought to replenishing those trees. Miners dig in the land and create holes that fill with rainwater that become contaminated and poison other areas. Animal species are hunted nearly to extinction and cause other problems with overpopulation. The sheepherders overgraze the land and render it useless for years. Still other places have been polluted by magical fallout. What happened to the Whamite Isles is a clear example of that." He looked at Druz. "Your cities are toxic in other ways as well. They provide a means and an area for eaters to live and reproduce."

  "Eaters?" The term was unfamiliar to Druz.

  "Eaters," Haarn repeated. "Civilized man simply eats nature's bounty and puts nothing back into the land. If they had to live off the land, struggle through the four seasons and keep themselves healthy, most of them wouldn't be able to."

  "I could live off the land. I've done it before," Druz argued hotly, feeling certain that the druid had lumped her in with the Eaters he spoke of.

  "But you've never learned to be happy living with what nature has to offer," the druid accused. "Otherwise you'd never go back to those cities and its laws and its taxes."

  "I like the idea of a home," Druz said. The thought occupied her mind a lot. Her parents hadn't had much, but they'd been generous with what they had. For the past nine years, Druz had lived a mercenary's life: traveling from engagement to engagement, praying to the gods that she didn't get killed or maimed, and living in a crude barracks. "I like taverns and eating a meal someone else has prepared. I like the marketplaces, and I like seeing things from other lands."

  "We're not intended to have all the world. You should learn to live where you are," Haarn said, raking his dark gaze over the slavers.

  A small group of men sitting at a cookfire still talked and drank from a bottle they passed around. They'd arrived back in the camp a while ago. No one else had shown up, nor did any more bands seem expected.

  "You've never had a… wanderlust?" Druz asked.

  "Of course I have," Haarn said, barely paying attention. "I've wandered all over Turmish."

  "Did you ever go to a city?"

  "No."

  Druz couldn't believe that. "How can you talk so badly of Alagh?n and other cities if you've never seen one?"

  Haarn looked at her. "Have you ever been bitten by a poisonous viper?"

  "Yes."

  "You know the poison will kill you if left untreated."

  "Of course," Druz agreed as she worked at her own bonds.

  She found no looseness in the leather ties. Her aggravation at the druid increased, but she knew it was a byproduc
t of her own helplessness. Railing at their slaver captors wouldn't be safe or satisfying, and the druid's chain of logic eluded her.

  "If you didn't see the viper that bit you," Haarn asked, "do you believe that the poison would kill you just as certainly?"

  "Yes."

  "That's how I feel about the people I've met who come from cities. I don't have to see their cities to know that they're unacceptable."

  "That isn't fair."

  "I don't have to be fair," Haarn said, then he started chanting.

  The guttural words sounded incredibly old and harsh to Druz, but she felt the magic in them. During her sojourn as a sellsword she'd had several occasions to work around combat mages. Once at a fair in Westgate a seer had told Druz that she carried a hint of magic about her. Druz had chosen not to pursue that possibility-she didn't much care for magic, and mage schools were expensive-but she'd always known when magic was working around her, if it was close or if it was strong.

  She knew the magic Haarn used was powerful just by the way it prickled her skin and tightened the hair at the nape of her neck. He spoke a single word at the end of the chant and a sudden cold feeling stabbed into Druz's stomach.

  Haarn's features started to melt, collapsing and flowing like a beeswax candle. Feathers took the place of flesh as the druid dwindled in on himself, becoming smaller and smaller. In a matter of heartbeats, a great horned owl stood on clawed feet where the druid had been sitting only an instant before. The leather fetters lay on the ground.

  The owl unfurled its great wings and leaped up. Though the winged predator's weight prevented it from speedily gaining ascent, the owl flew nevertheless. The druid in owl form sped toward the five slavers gathered around the cookfire. Druz heard the wings beat the air as the owl sailed over the sleeping slavers.

  One of the slavers noticed the owl's approach and cried out in alarm as he dragged at the sword sheathed at his side. Without hesitation, Haarn raked his owl's claws across the man's face, savaging his features into a bloody ruin and narrowly avoiding the sword blow that cleaved the air for him.

  The slaver fell back, squealing in pain and fear. The other slavers grabbed for their weapons and shouted an alarm. Even as the rousing slavers struggled to come to their feet and react, the huge brown bear broke the tree line around the clearing and charged into the camp. The bear roared and the sound was deafening.

  The slavers yelled in fear and called on their gods. In the next instant, the bear was among them, flailing and rending with its great claws and fangs. Men dropped away from the bear's attack, and many of them never moved again. The bear was as vicious as it was relentless.

  Haarn, in owl form, attacked a man who had fitted a crossbow to his shoulder and was taking aim at the bear.

  The slaver dropped his weapon and screamed, "My eyes! My eyes!"

  He stumbled back and fell into one of the campfires. Smoldering embers rose into the night air along with the man's renewed screams of pain.

  The chain holding Druz's leather restraints jerked. She glanced down the line of slaves and saw that most of them had roused. Three of the men grabbed rocks from the ground and stood ready to defend themselves. Druz pulled at the leather binding her, but there was no way to get free. She watched helplessly, knowing that if the druid wasn't successful in killing the slavers, he might have doomed them all to harsh deaths.

  The owl cut the air and glided over a small wagon that sat at a tree on the other side of the camp. A pair of horses neighed loudly and fought against the ropes and hobbles that held them. The owl dropped from treetop level and plummeted with folded wings. The druid touched the ground again in human form.

  Haarn raced to the small wagon and went through one of the chests in the back. He located his scimitar and a small kit that Druz assumed he'd worn under his blouse because she hadn't seen it earlier. He also took out her sword belt. Firelight danced across his features and the wild black hair that brushed his shoulders. His face was cold and impassive, and the absence of emotion-fear or anger-made him appear like an alien thing.

  The bear roared and growled deep in its huge chest as a crossbow quarrel took it high in one shoulder. The offending sliver of wood and fletching looked incredibly small against the bulk of the ursine. Turning its broad head, the bear snapped at the quarrel and bit part of it off, leaving only a few inches embedded in its flesh.

  Haarn threw himself into the attack. Firelight glinted along the scimitar's length as the druid engaged one of the slavers. The fight lasted only a moment. Perhaps the druid had never been to a city to accept proper tutelage, but his bladework was some of the best Druz had ever seen.

  Fiery red lightning strobed across the night sky like a hag's withered claws. Druz smelled the change in the weather as the humid heat that had plagued the day suddenly chilled. For a moment she believed the druid might have summoned the weather change, and she knew the slavers probably believed that as well.

  Out of over twenty men that Druz had counted, a dozen lay stretched out on the ground. Many of them never moved, and the others wouldn't be getting to their feet soon, nor were they in any kind of shape to resume the fight.

  Twisting viciously, the druid avoided a desperate sword cut from his opponent. Still carrying Druz's sword in his other hand, the druid whirled and brought his scimitar around in a flash that was almost too fast for even Druz's eyes to follow in the uncertain light. The scimitar's last few inches slashed through the slaver's throat.

  Crimson bubbled down the man's shirtfront as he dropped his blade and reached for his throat. Druz knew from experience that the slaver wasn't going to survive the cut.

  Coldly, the druid stepped forward as the dying man dropped to his knees. Haarn's attention was already focused on his next opponent. He stepped forward and took his place at the bear's side with a graceful ease that showed years of experience. The remaining slavers broke and pulled back. The slaver leader, Brugar, called the surviving men to him, holding his battle-axe in two hands before him. "Form up a damn line!" he called. "Do it now or the damned forest elf is gonna gut you all!" The men scrambled, pulling into a loose formation behind their leader. Haarn threw Druz's sword belt over to her. Kneeling, the druid plucked a throwing knife from a dead man left stretched out by one of the bear's blows. His eyes never left the slavers as he tore away a piece of the dead man's red shirt. Standing with the piece of red cloth trapped between his fingers, the druid spoke words in a guttural tongue. The red cloth frayed in the whipping winds that preceded the cannonade of thunder that shook the earth. Lightning threaded across the wine-dark sky again, briefly illuminating the camp and the horror it had become as if in the brightest day. One of the men tied to the chain darted forward, intent on claiming Druz's sword belt. She turned on the man, catching his eyes with hers. "No," she commanded. She felt pity for the people bound to the chain, but she knew from experience that she couldn't do them any good if she wasn't able to take care of herself. The man backed away resentfully and said, "If they get the chance, they're likely to kill us now that you people have interfered." Interfered? Druz bridled at the comment, then pushed it out of her mind. During her years of service she'd sometimes found herself cursed by the same people who'd thanked her for her help at first. It had gone the other way too when an engagement played out well. Druz gripped her sword hilt and slid the weapon free of its scabbard. Holding the sword trapped between her knees, she slid the leather binding her wrists against the sharp edge. The leather parted like a spider's web. Still, her hands had numbed and she knew she couldn't properly wield the weapon, so she made herself wait. One of the slavers reloaded the crossbow he held while the others screamed at him to hurry. "Haarn!" Druz called out, seeing that the druid was praying again and might not have seen the threat. She became aware of a distinct buzzing noise that cut through the silence left after the thunderous cracks. Even as the crossbowman brought his weapon up, a swirling mass of flying beetles slammed into him. The insects cut at the slaver's flesh. Bright drops of bloo
d streamed from his face and arms. The beetles clustered to the man, covering him the way bees swarmed over a honeycomb. The slaver threw the crossbow down and tried to flee, but the flying beetles pursued him. He didn't go a half dozen steps before he tripped and fell, seemingly weighed down by the heavy mass of beetles clinging to him. The man stopped writhing and fighting in seconds, and chill horror cut through Druz as she realized she didn't know if the man was alive or dead. The bear growled a challenge and started forward. Almost carelessly, the druid reached out and caught up a handful of fur. "No, my friend," he said softly, holding onto the massive ursine. The bear twisted its wedge-shaped head and growled again. It sounded as if the bear was protesting the fate of the slavers. "Kill them," Brugar snarled, starting forward. Druz took up her weapon. Though feeling hadn't quite returned, she knew she couldn't leave the druid standing against the slavers on his own. Haarn raised a hand and uttered a few more words. Another prickling sensation passed through Druz, almost strong enough to buffet her as much as the storm winds that came howling through the forest. She watched in amazement as the trees around the slavers came to life, twisting and writhing like arthritic snakes. "Brugar!" one of the men yelped. Tree branches reached down and caught the man up, curling around him and ripping at his clothing and skin with rough bark. A jagged flash of lightning sizzled across the black sky, turning the surrounding world harshly white for a heartbeat, then dropping the curtain of night back into place. Only two of the slavers escaped the groping tree branches that lifted them high into the air. The bear left the druid's side in a diving lunge that took it back to all fours. Before the two slavers could take more than a handful of steps, the bear closed on them. Jaws distended widely, then snapped closed, ripping through the back of one man's neck. A mighty paw slammed against the back of the second man's head, crushing the skull like a grape and spilling a loose-limbed corpse to the ground. The bear shook its first victim then dropped the body and stood up. It growled a challenge, reaching for the men suspended in the trees. The slavers drew their legs up, barely out of reach of the bear's claws. The wind picked up in intensity, bringing an almost wintry cold with it. More red and purple lightning darted across the black sky. The druid stood unmoving in the winds and peered up at the slavers. It was easy to believe, Druz realized, that the man had summoned the storms. "I am Haarn Brightoak," the druid stated in a loud voice, "charged by the order of the Emerald Enclave to protect and care for the lands you have invaded." Lightning flashed again, followed immediately by booming thunder that almost drowned out the pleading cries of the men trapped in the trees. Can he crush them? Druz wondered. She'd never seen the spell before, but she'd witnessed black tentacles summoned by combat mages that had wielded incredibly destructive force. The men hanging in the trees, she knew, had to be asking themselves the same thing. The slavers struggled against the grasp of the still-moving tree branches, screaming out in pain as the rough bark tore into their flesh. Even if they got free, the bear and the druid waited below. There was no escape. Druz realized that even as she knew the slavers had to. She'd seen men kill coldly in battle before, and even some kill coldly afterward. Some of those kills had been merciful, putting injured men out of their misery, but some had been done with a vengeance. She didn't know what emotion moved the druid, and she didn't know if she could stand by while the men were ruthlessly executed. The trees finally stopped moving and resumed their normal shapes. The bear growled threats at the slavers, who wisely made no attempt to climb down from the trees. "Leave these lands," the druid commanded in his fierce voice. "Are you going to guarantee us safe passage?" Brugar called down. Haarn didn't hesitate. "No." "Then what are you going to do?" "Let you go free," Haarn replied. "Whether or not you make it out of these lands is up to you. Animals will hunt you until you are clear of this area, and they will devour you if they catch you." "That's no kind of bargain," Brugar objected. "You've killed over half of my men. We've got damn little chance of getting clear of here." "Nature doesn't bargain. It is neither merciful nor merciless and only requires that the strong survive. Whether you're strong enough to survive is up to you." Haarn turned away and the storm winds whipped his hair across his implacable face. "Druid…" Brugar called. "In a few moments, I'm going to release these people," Haarn replied without turning around. "I'm sure they'll avail themselves of the weapons that are lying around this campsite. Perhaps they'll even choose to shoot you down from the trees with the crossbows they find… if you haven't left. I understand that a crossbow doesn't require much skill." Brugar snarled oaths. "If those peasants think that I'm going to-" Haarn looked up at the man. "If you dare attack them in return, I'll hunt you all down and kill you. None of you will ever see home again. I offer my oath to Silvanus on that." Quietly, after only a little hesitation, the slavers climbed down from the trees. As soon as they reached the ground, they ran for their lives. The druid turned his attention to the people tied to the heavy slaver's chain. His scimitar flashed, reflecting the lightning as the impending rain started to fall in heavy drops. Unfettered, the people gathered in small groups and took shelter from the pelting rain, but they were careful to avoid the trees that had captured and held the slavers. A few of them scavenged among the supplies the slavers had left behind, seeking out other garments as well as something to eat. Druz kept her sword naked in her fist. Even with the power that the druid had shown, she didn't trust the slavers completely to leave the area. They'd left too many things behind. Maybe, she thought, staring at the trees that now just looked like trees again, the slavers had been scared enough. Glancing back at the druid, she watched as he quietly talked to the wounded bear. The massive animal dropped down to all fours and nuzzled the man. Gently, Haarn put his foot against the bear's shoulder, gripped the broken crossbow quarrel, and pulled it from the animal's body. Blood leaked out of the wound, matting the bear's fur. Growling, the bear licked the wound with a bright pink tongue. The druid spoke softly to the bear, then prayed for a moment and placed his hands over the animal's blood-matted shoulder. Blue light gleamed from under the druid's hands, and Druz's skin prickled again in response. When the druid took his hands from the animal, the bear moved its shoulder tentatively, then put its weight on the limb with greater confidence. The bear rumbled again, but this time it sounded almost pleased. Haarn turned from the bear and walked to the wagon. The released slaves backed away from him fearfully, but a few of them muttered that he was probably coming to claim his choice of whatever gold and silver the slavers might have left behind. Instead, Haarn only recovered the few items of his that were personal belongings. He rigged his weapons once more about him without a word and set off into the forest. "What are you doing?" Druz asked. "Leaving," the druid replied. "You can't-we can't just leave these people here like this." "I don't owe them anything." "You freed them." "I came after the slavers," the druid said, "not to free those people. They're responsible for themselves. If they're meant to live, they'll find a way." He stepped into the brush without hesitation or a backward look. Caught off-guard, Druz quickly went to reclaim her own kit from one of the men, who had taken it from the wagon. "That's mine," she said. "I found it," the man said, clutching the leather kit to him. Druz showed the man the sword in her fist. "I'm not leaving here without that kit," she stated in a calm voice. Even though she'd felt sorry for them a moment before, she also knew she'd take what was rightfully hers. She'd been in cities before that had been attacked by invading forces. Even after the invaders were routed, looting had gone on in the shops and homes that had been damaged. The citizens had taken whatever was left by the invading forces. "Let her have the bag, Larz," a thin woman with a bruised face said. "I found it," the man said. "It's probably hers." "Maybe she's lying." Angry and frustrated, Druz stripped the bag from the man's hands. She'd liked the man better when she'd believed he was a victim. Stepping back from him, she tucked the kit tinder her arm and opened it. She took a few small packages from the kit and handed them to the woman. "Food," Druz said. "It's not much, but maybe it will
help see you back to your homes." "The slavers burned our homes," the woman said. "They burned us out when they took us." "I'm sorry," Druz said. "What we've got here," the woman said, "is all we have." "At least you're still alive and free," Druz said. "Free to starve to death in this forest or to fall to one of the vicious beasts that live here," a man muttered. "If we don't catch our death in this rain." "We need someone to guide us out of here," the woman told Druz. "We have small children with us. Maybe we can't pay you for your services now, but there will come a time when we can." "No," Druz said softly, forcing herself to be hard. "I'm sorry. I can't." She glanced at the forest in the direction Haarn and the large bear had gone. There was nothing to mark their passage. "I've got to go." "If you leave us here, we may die," the woman said. Druz sheathed her sword. "Maybe you won't," she replied. "Head east. Alagh?n lies in that direction. Perhaps you'll encounter a merchant caravan. Stay together and you should be all right." The ex-slaves' faces showed the doubts they had. Haunted by feelings of guilt but knowing she'd already undertaken an allegiance, Druz jogged in the direction Haarn had taken, hoping the druid had not gotten too far ahead of her and wasn't going to try to leave her behind. She didn't allow herself to look back at them because she didn't think she'd be strong enough to keep going. She knew it wasn't strength that had allowed the druid to leave the slaves. The man simply didn't care for any of the people they'd freed. The realization chilled Druz as much as the rain that soaked her clothing because, for a time, she'd tied her future to the druid's.