Lawrence Watt-Evans: Relics of War

“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!”

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.”