Westhaven by Rowan Erlking (ebook audio reader .txt) 📖

anvil again, offering the fighting stick.

Key just stared at it. “I have to ask.”

With a shrug then a sigh, Tiler said, “The moment you came into this camp with Kleston’s arm around your shoulder everyone’s been jealous of you. He listens to you. And our leader listens to you, and the magician listens to you. All the adults listen to you. You are respected where they treat us like kids.”

“Well you act—”

“I know, ok?” Tiler nudged Key with the stick again. “We don’t act the way they want us to. But you don’t ever have any fun—and don’t you tell me that sword making is fun because it looks like hard work.”

“It is hard work,” Key said glancing at the stick in Tiler’s hand as if it were stupid. “But I like it.”

Tiler smacked the stick into Key’s hand. “That doesn’t mean you can’t play with us once in a while.”

Key closed his eyes. He chuckled and then grasped the stick. A small grin cracked on his face. “Ok. But don’t beat me up with the stick. I’m still a beginner.”

Laughing, Tiler patted Key on the back then made him set down the sword to cool with a glance to the smith who was hiding a grin. “I’ll go easy on you, though you really are not as bad as you think.”

*

“It is worse than I thought,” Gailert said, peering over the map with all the hit sites marked. “The hills are infested with these raiders.”

“So, what do you think we should do?” the captain asked, waving his arms over the map. “We’ve tried about everything.”

“Have you detected a pattern in their behavior?” the general asked. “A location they have not hit, the roads, or within the city on purpose?”

“Well, obviously they avoid the human zones and strike concentrated areas where we live,” the captain said. “I also believe that they even strike human collaborators.”

“Really?” Gailert leaned back. “Which ones and how?”

Taking out a city map and setting it over the area map on his desk, the captain pointed to the wealthier area of the city where the inhabitants were mixed between humans and Sky Children. “Two days before the fire there was a murder up here. That night a demon Night Stalker came out and started to hunt. Eventually the demon stopped its hunt three days after the fire, having killed five of the wealthy humans and two Sky Children merchants. The final death is usually the perpetrator of the murder, and it was one of the key men that turned in the swordsmith of Lake Bekir years ago in exchange for his life and to keep his business. The humans of the lower town have hated him for years. And that swordsmith has become something of a mythic hero.”

Raising his eyebrows, the general was uniquely surprised. “A hero?”

“Fancy that, huh?” the captain said. Then he had a thoughtful look. He glanced at Gailert. “Did you really pick up his child and make him your footman?”

Gailert nodded, thinking on the hero status of his former slave’s father. There didn’t seem to be anything expressly heroic about the man. His sobbing for his son had seemed rather pathetic in fact. “I did.”

“Was that the one that got away?” the captain asked.

Nodding, Gailert frowned.

“Was he ever retrieved?”

Shaking his head, Gailert’s frown deepened. “No. But after all this time and the events of his disappearance, I had given him up for dead. The child stands out too easily to hide for long. It’s been two years almost. Someone would have seen him by now.”

“Maybe a demon had, and ate him,” the captain replied.

Gailert slowly nodded. “That’s what I had figured.”

“So, back to business.” The captain tapped the city map. “I’ve been trying to figure out how a witch could trick a Night Stalker into waking up and killing that particular man. This whole thing reeks of revenge.”

The general shook his head, thinking of the strategy as if he were the one seeking revenge. “This takes no witch. Just one man with a silver tongue.”

“Pardon?” the captain asked, turning his head with bewilderment. 

With a grin and a nod, Gailert tapped the location where the last man died. “We should be checking out the close associations of this man. Whom did he do business with, and who had his ear. Anyone with sense would not murder for money in these hills. They are packed with sleeping Night Stalkers waiting to make a kill. But a sweet-tongued man could convince a ‘friend’ towards committing the perfect crime with the promise that they would not be killed by the Stalkers.”

“And how would his friend get away with it?” the captain asked him. “Confederates in murder would also be hunted down.”

“No so,” Gailert reminded him. “Not if the other man’s motive had nothing to do with money.”

“Revenge?” the captain uttered, thinking with a nod.

“Night Stalkers don’t kill people for revenge, only murder due to avarice.” Tapping the map Gailert nodded. “I bet the man they murdered also was a collaborator with us.”

The captain blinked. “He was, come to think of it.”

“Now all we have to do is find their friend,” Gailert said and smiled.

*

Kleston walked down the hill into the hollow where Key and Tiler were practicing their sword fighting. He noticed the short sword Key had been working on resting on the stone work-area in the smith shop also. Watching the usually melancholy boy spar with Tiler with a trace smile on his face and a glitter in his eyes was refreshing. Kleston had wanted the boy to be happy more than anything. In the deepest part of his heart, he really had wanted to take the boy away from the Herra Hills, far away from any battles. However, since Key had insisted that he join the raiders, it did not feel right to deny him what he wanted most.

“Keep your point up,” Tiler said, preparing to meet Key’s stick. “That’s the most important thing.”

Key was sweating hard. His eyes were on the stick as he worked with all his might to do as Tiler said. There was something so innocent in Key’s earnestness that Kleston stopped to watch. No guile was in that boy, or pride. While in so many others he worked with had issues of bravado and saving face that it made life difficult. It was no wonder the Cordrils had trusted the boy-growing-into-a-man when they arranged their plans with their camp. Their departure, Kleston took as a personal shame.

“Now I’ll come at you. You block.” Tiler held his stick up and started to attack, not at all going easy on Key.

In way, that was gratifying also. Finally Key had gained the respect of one of his peers. Kleston watched Key defend himself. The young man took every blow with serious care, but his moves were more deliberate than instinctual. Despite his grace in his moves, he just didn’t have the spirit of a fighter. Truthfully, he didn’t want to see any more death.

“OW!” Key rubbed his hand where Tiler had smacked him.

“Sorry!” Tiler called out. “But now you’re wounded. You have to put that hand down.”

They continued to spar. Tiler had the advantage from experience, though Key still held his own. Unfortunately, Key slipped on the mud and Tiler touched his stick to Key’s throat.

“You lost,” Tiler said.

“No joke.” Key moaned rubbing his backside, trying to get up.

Lowering his stick, Tiler extended a hand to help him up.

Kleston blinked. That was something new.

Tiler said as he heaved Key to his feet, “Your problem isn’t your fighting. You need to have a killer instinct.”

Key made a face, still rubbing his backside. “I don’t want a killer instinct.”

“Then how are you going to win a fight?” Tiler said, now suddenly noticing Kleston standing there watching.

Kleston smiled and raised a hand, walking down the rest of the way.

“I don’t know,” Key snapped. He picked up his stick for another bout. “More practice?”

Tiler laughed. “How are you going to kill that general of yours if you don’t have a killer instinct?”

Key froze then looked to the ground. “I don’t know.”

Wrapping his arm around Key’s shoulder, Tiler said, “Well, we’re going to find it. I’m going to help you find it.”

With a shrug, Key exhaled then lifted up his stick again to fight.

“Nah,” Tiler set his own stick down. “I’m done for the day. Let’s get something to eat.”

Tiler veered Key towards one of the fire pits where a few people were already eating beans with meat. Key did not notice Kleston at first, but then he looked up as they passed by and caught sight of his face.

Kleston smiled. “How’ve you been?”

Freezing where he was, Key then hopped right over to him, leaving Tiler standing. Tiler shrugged and hurried on to get food anyway without Key. Everyone knew Key thought of Kleston first before anyone else in the camp.

“You’re back!” Key’s grin split across his face, his melancholy gone. “You’ve been gone forever!”

Drawing in a breath, Kleston nodded, surveying the campsite with a nostalgic smile. “Yeah, and I’m afraid I’m going to be gone for a while after this too. I can only stay for a bit.”

“Ah, really?” Key kicked the dirt, his smile already gone. “That’s not fair.”

“But the raids are going well,” Kleston said and poked Key in the chest. “So you shouldn’t be complaining.”

Key hung his shoulders, walking with him as Kleston headed towards the main longhouse. “I know, but—”

“No buts,” Kleston said, leading Key up the hill. “You knew that life with the raiders was not going to be fun and games.”

Key made a face. He never had assumed that, and he thought Kleston was ridiculous for even suggesting it.

“Besides, as much as I like you, I can’t neglect my duties in town or with the other camps.” Kleston nudged Key towards the long house door to go in.

Blinking, Key realized that he had been steered there.

“Unfortunately, the reason I’ve come this time is as a bearer of bad news.” As he walked in, Kleston waved to the magician who was poring over a map. He stood with their leader in the center of longhouse under the light. “Hello, men. I’m back from Herra.”

Their leader blinked at Key then glanced to the magician before speaking. “What brings you this way? It is not on schedule.”

Guiding Key to the table where they stood, Kleston nodded. “I know, but uh, I have word on a certain thing afoot in town. And you are not going to like it.”

“But why bring the boy?” the leader asked, barely even looking at Key.

Kleston’s grip on Key’s shoulders immediately tightened as if to brace him for something.

Key looked up at him, wondering.

“It concerns him too,” Kleston said. He then paused, considering his words carefully. “Word on the street, and I have seen it for myself to confirm it, is that General Gole has come to Herra.”

Key almost collapsed. He didn’t know where the strength in his knees had gone, but Kleston held him up until he could find a seat. Kleston and the magician steered him into one to gather his bearings.

“I don’t think he’s come here for Key,” Kleston said to make it clear for them all. “But I do think our reckless stunt with that city we burned down caught the attention of the Sky Lord, and he pulled the general out of retirement.”

“To hunt us?” their leader asked, his voice grew weak.

Kleston nodded. “Which means we better have an escape plan ready. Only those that always remain in the camp should know it, and no one else. That way they won’t be able to follow you.”

“He’s going to find me.” Key clenched his head, starting to hyperventilate.

“No, he’s not,” Kleston said, reassuring him with a firm touch on Key’s back. “I won’t let him.”

Key shook his head. “He’s going to kill everybody.”

“No, Key.” Kleston crouched down looking the young man right in the face, making sure Key’s eyes met his. “No. He’s not. He doesn’t know the woods as well as we do,