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

their technology, and we are going to use it against them. Does anyone have a problem with that?”

Loid raised his hand.

Key cast him a tired look. “What is it?”

“Do we all get those magic sticks?”

Making a face at him, Key said, “They’re called guns. And we’ll see.”

Loid glanced at Telerd and shrugged. “He has definitely changed.”

 

Chapter Eighteen: Meetings

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Telerd and Loid led Key and his comrades from Herra into the woods west of Kalsworth where they had a camp. The camp itself was particularly well hidden. The tents were covered in plants as if they had grown that way. And perhaps they had. With a professed wizard in their midst, it was clear that he was busy in the camp. Most of the people were busy in fact.

The actual leaders of the camp were local southerners. His childhood friends took Key to meet them in their woven house. He glanced at the leaves that spread over the ceiling when they ducked through the doorway. It was built more like a huge cone than a longhouse. The outside looked like a twisted-up tree. Loid introduced them, bowing to a middle-aged man with a scar across the side of his face and a small chunk taken out of the ridge of his nose. The man’s name was Lowman Freyman.

“This is my old friend, Kemdin Smith. Edman sent him to us.” He said then lifted his eyes to the Herra men. “He goes by the name of Key.”

“Key?” The man he bowed to peered at Key’s face and then at his hair. Key had taken off his hat, despite the urging from his Herra companions to keep it on. “So you are the famous Key? You are a mere boy.”

“Sir! Lowman! Please.” Loid set down his wrapped instrument on the table with a thud. “He is my friend, the son the Bekir smith. He is no more a mere boy than I am.”

Boy. Key did not feel the blow that Lowman had intended towards him. It was too familiar. It echoed the general’s regard of him as a nothing slave.

Lowman tossed back his head with a snort. “He has that naive look in his eyes. One who clings to hope in this hopeless time. I know his kind. And I know what he wants. The answer is no.”

Key glanced at the others that had come with him. 

“What are you, a coward?” Tiler stomped forward. “If you know what we want, then what is your problem? Joining in a united front against the blue-eyes is the best—”

“Silence, pup! What do know about bravery?” Lowman puffed up his chest, slapping it. “What do you know about pain?”

“They’re Herra Hills raiders,” Telerd said dryly. “I think that is answer enough.”

The camp leader scanned the faces of the young men then snorted. “These children? I don’t think so. Send me a real raider. Then we’ll talk.”

Key shook his head with a huff as he turned to Tiler. “Why is it that all these old men are so stupid?”

“What?” Lowman shoved past his men and tromped over to Key, balling his hand into a fist.

The six young men from the Herra Hills drew their swords. Key lifted up his chest. Lowman halted at their points and stared down at them, their glaring eyes showing exactly how deadly they really were. The man didn’t dare take a step back, though, obviously fighting to keep face as he was the leader of the southern camp. Instead he lifted his chin and gave another snort. “So, you are raiders after all.”

Key nodded sharply.

Lowman peered at him up and down examining the ordinary Hill clothing Key wore and the young man’s patchy white and brown hair, then glanced at Telerd and Loid who were both dressed in lake attire. “So, you are also from Bekir Lake? The Smith’s son, they said?”

Nodding deliberately again, Key hardly smiled.

Then glancing at the fine Bekir style swords, Lowman exhaled still trying to keep from looking foolish. The swords had not lowered at all. “And you made all these?”

Key nodded once more. “I did. And when I return north I intend to make more for those allies at Sundri. All we’re asking here is for a little cooperation in our efforts to rid our land of those demon Sky Children.”

“You call those blue-eyes Sky Children?” Lowman asked. His eyes narrowed on Key with regard for him as a traitor.

Nodding again, Key said, returning his sword to his sheath though the others kept theirs still up, “That’s what they call themselves. We ought to use the term to get used to it.”

“What for?” Lowman snapped, still eyeing Key with a glare of contempt.

Meeting his gaze, Key gestured for the others to lower their swords. “So we can enter their society without them knowing.”

There was murmur through the room. Most of the men in the camp stared at Key as if he were a demon rather than human, though Key’s face did have a Bekir Lake quality to it. They glanced at Loid and Telerd, both of who did not seem so startled by how Key spoke or stood. They had a patient look, a searching look as if they were still pondering the damage Key’s enslavement must have had on him. 

“That is what building an army is for?” Lowman snorted as he stepped back towards his men. “Why would we want to do that?”

“Look…” Key approached the table to demonstrate what he meant with the very maps, taking the opportunity he had before him. But when he did, the draping vines over the doorway stirred, and everyone turned to look.

Two men entered the room. One had a short stocky build where the other was an evenly balanced man of decent height who wore a floppy hat, a long dusty coat over a vest, with a knife sticking out underneath.

Blinking at him, Key stared. “You!”

The man and his partner walked in further, not even looking at Key.

“I brought him here, boss,” the stocky man said, hanging back as a dutiful soldier. “You said you wanted to meet him. Well, I found him.”

Lowman chuckled, shoving past Key without another thought.

The men from Herra staggered back. Key nearly fell against the wall, too stunned from being so abruptly brushed aside. Tiler caught him. Key’s eyes fixed on the newcomer who was now removing his hat with a cocky grin for Lowman.

The newcomer extended his hand for a shake. “Dalis Holbruk, at your service. What was so important that you wanted to speak with me?”

The man hardly looked at the rest of the people in the room, bent entirely on business.

Gripping Dalis’s hand firmly, Lowman said, with a small respectful nod, “Lowman Freyman, leader of the southern resistance. I need to talk to you about halting your raids for a while. The blue-eyes are currently scouring the forests for you specifically, and it is causing us problems. Can you draw them away to Wendora or somewhere to the north, perhaps to Wenden?”

A completely dumbfounded laugh escaped Dalis’s lips.

“You want me to hide so that you can continue to what? Just sit around and wait until you discover some magical solution to quit their existence? I can’t do that. Magic isn’t the answer.” Dalis lifted up one of his guns from an inside holster. “These are.”

Keeping face as he tried to hide his anger, Lowman squared his jaw and drew back his shoulders. His men looked more ruffled though. The Bekir men were the most dramatic in their responses. Loid and Telerd grimaced with disgust.

Lowman said with a grate to his throat, “Mr. Holbruk. It is irresponsible to—”

“I’ll hire you, then,” Key announced. He shoved past the men of the southern camp to the front of the group. He extended his hand to Dalis. “My name is Key. I’m representing the Herra Raiders up north, and we need a general who knows how to handle guns. Will you accept the job?”

Looking to him, Dalis blinked first then laughed, his eyes taking in Key’s hair. “Well, what do you know? It’s General Gole’s old slave. I see you escaped after all. Good for you!”

The stunned silence in the room was compounded by the pleased grin on both Key’s and Dalis’s face.

“So you’re the infamous Key? I see you got yourself a price on your head.” He then clenched Key’s extended hand, shaking it. “What’s the pay and when do I start?”

The men from Herra practically leapt. Tiler and Weston eagerly rushed to Key’s side, though Polan and Berd just stood there grinning at their luck.

Rainold hung back and shrugged with a glance to Loid whose mouth opened as if Key’s forwardness was not something he had seen in the past. Telerd even stared, though he was smothering a chuckle, shaking his head.

“Now wait a minute!” Lowman snapped, flushing red as he realized that the young man that he had just dismissed had suddenly circumvented his authority.

Key shot him a look that said the southern leader was too late. “Ah, come on. Us people with a little bit of hope left do have reasons for it. Besides, you didn’t think I would miss an opportunity to take an ally? I’ve been looking for this man.”

“You’ve been looking for me?” Dalis leaned back, regarding Key with more scrutiny.

With a nod, Key let go of the man’s hand. “That’s right. You’re my proof.”

“Good proof,” Tiler said with a nod. He stood at Key’s right with a grin.

Weston nodded also, smiling as if they had just found gold.

“Proof for what?” Dalis asked, now wondering what was going on in Key’s head. His eyes passed over his friends also. Polan walked over, followed by Berd and Rainold.

Key signaled to Rainold who was now taking out a sealed note from his pack’s front pocket. Rainold handed it to Key.

“Proof that my plan will work.” Key then passed the letter to Dalis, pressing it into his hand. “You take this to Yarrding. Hand it to a merchant named Talbit who lives at the crossroads. He’ll direct you to our training camp where our associates are training our army. I want you to train them to use guns and any other weapons that the Sky Children use. Do you accept?”

With a chuckle, Dalis looked Key in the eye and repeated, “What’s the pay and when do I start?”

Tiler patted Key on the back as Key answered.

“The pay is plenty of food while you work, and freedom from demon rule in the future. You start right away.”

Laughing more heartily, Dalis said with a slight shrug, “Funny. I was thinking more in terms of gold or silver. You know, there is a price on your head. Can you top it?”

Key rolled his eyes and took a step back. As he did, the Herra men with him drew out their guns and pointed them right at Dalis.

The room went silent.

Lowman stared at their weapons, as did every other man in the room. The Bekir men drew in breaths, glancing to Key who had cold look in his eyes.

“Try it and die.” Tiler seethed through his teeth.

That same killer glare was on the faces of all the Herra men. And Herra Raiders did not make idle threats.

Dalis lifted up his hands. His smile remained. In fact, he was chuckling. But even his