The Turquoise Queen Page 2

  Lasgol thought about it. The situation was not a hopeful one for an attack. It never was when there were innocents involved. He was sure those mercenaries would have no qualms about killing the peasants. They would use them as human shields and threaten to kill them unless he came out into the open to shoot. He had to come up with a plan that would allow him to rescue the peasants without any casualties. He considered a couple of scenarios, but after analyzing them he realized they were too risky and the possibilities of success minimal.

  Ona was staring at him inquisitively. The panther felt they were going into action, and she wanted to know what she had to do. So, did he. He snorted and went on thinking about options. The only advantage he had was that the mercenaries did not have bows, only scimitars and knives, and he had to make the most of that advantage. As he was thinking, he noticed the one who looked like the leader, judging by his gestures and his size and strength. Lasgol knew that under no circumstances must he get close to them. In close combat they would tear him to shreds. He was not even half as strong as them.

  He could avoid interfering, trusting that the mercenaries would leave their prisoners alive. That was not the mission he had been given and which was awaiting him a little further northeast. Curiosity and ill fortune had led him into that situation. If he acted, things might go wrong, and innocents might end up wounded or dead. With five armed foreign soldiers, there were too many things that could go wrong. Maybe he ought to watch and not intervene. With a bit of luck, the mercenaries would finish their looting and be on their way.

  Then he saw one of them dragging away a young woman who to judge by her brown hair could be no older than twenty. He was dragging her to one of the houses, while she screamed and fought back with all her strength. When one of the peasants tried to help her, he received a blow on the head from the butt of one of the mercenaries’ swords and fell to the ground unconscious.

  Lasgol made his decision. There was no real choice.

  Let’s go.

  Chapter 2

  Camu, to the third farm, he transmitted to his partner urgently.

  I go, came Camu’s determined answer.

  Ona. Stalk. Second farm.

  The panther let out a small growl to show she had understood.

  Be very careful and do exactly what I say. I don’t want anything to go wrong.

  We follow, Camu promised, and Ona chirped in agreement.

  A moment later they both ran off, one in his invisible state and the other hiding in the bush as if she were hunting for deer. Lasgol nocked his compound bow and aimed at the mercenary who was dragging the girl away. He had kicked her in the sides to stop her resisting, but in spite of the pain, terrified of the atrocity she was about to experience, she went on screaming and struggling. The man hit her again. Lasgol nearly released at that point, but his friends were not yet in position, so he bit his lip, took a deep breath and let his rage and frustration out with the air.

  He managed to catch a glimpse of Ona, but Camu was invisible. Knowing his speed and the distance he could cover in a short time running at top speed, he calculated how long it would take his friend to reach his position. Then he took another deep breath, knowing that the moment had come. He had a clear target, although at that moment he wished he were Ingrid or Nilsa, who – along with Molak – were really amazing archers. He realized that he needed more and more urgently to develop a skill which would help him with long-distance shots, but he brushed the thought aside. There was no time left now for either complaints or wishful thinking.

  The mercenary kicked the door of the second farm open, still dragging the young woman behind him. Time had run out, and Lasgol acted.

  In most situations a Ranger had to act stealthily, always taking care to hide from the enemy, but this was not one of those times. He called upon Improved Agility and Cat-like Reflexes to help him in the fight. He identified two mercenaries at the far end, by the third farm, together with two more beside the prisoners – one of whom looked like the leader – and the fifth, who was about to enter the farm and bring his vileness to a head. He raced towards them across the open expanse of land, and contrary to what the Path taught, yelled at the top of his lungs: a Norghanian war cry.

  The five mercenaries turned immediately and readied their weapons. He guessed he must be about a hundred paces away from the second house by now, and stopped to aim. Now came the most delicate moment as he called upon his True Shot skill, which as he knew by now would take a long moment to be activated.

  The mercenary leader pointed his scimitar at him and began to give orders to his men. Lasgol had nearly invoked his skill by now, but still needed a little more time. The orders were in Nocean, and he did not understand a word of what the man was saying, but one thing he knew for sure: they were going to fall on him and kill him immediately.

  Nor was he mistaken. Three of them ran toward him, but meanwhile the skill was taking forever to activate. Even so, he stayed calm and let the process finish. A green flash ran through his arms and bow: at last! He released. That shot against a target which was still moving as it dragged the woman to safety into the house would have certainly missed, except that the skill would not permit failure. And so, it was. The arrow struck the mercenary in the heart as he went into the house, just as Lasgol had visualized as he invoked the skill. The Nocean let go of the woman’s hair, dropped the scimitar he was carrying in his other hand and fell dead, his heart transfixed.

  With a lightning move Lasgol nocked another arrow. Unfortunately, he had no time to use the same skill again, because it took too long to summon up and the man who had been beside the leader was already upon him. He was huge, and luckily not as fast as a lighter and more agile rival might have been. Sometimes muscle and height were a disadvantage. Lasgol aimed at the advancing mercenary’s torso as he rushed at him, scimitar at the ready. He heard the Nocean’s attacking cry and released almost point-blank. The arrow hit the man in the center of his chest, and Lasgol thought he had killed him. But the mercenary went on running, and before Lasgol could nock another arrow, he launched a massive stroke with his sword. Lasgol half-turned and let the scimitar pass close to his side, but thanks to the skills he had already invoked, he managed to avoid the fatal blow. The mercenary raised his scimitar again, and he prepared to dodge it. The sword began its descending motion, but never finished it. Instead, the mercenary fell forward, dead.

  Lasgol gasped with relief. He nocked again, and at the same time he saw that the leader, as he had feared, had grabbed another woman and was using her as a shield. His left hand was holding a long knife against her throat, while in his right arm, which was clutching her, he also held a huge scimitar. The woman was a blonde peasant of around thirty whose hair was disheveled from the treatment the mercenaries must have given her. She was trembling, and tears of terror and despair were falling down her cheeks.

  At the same time the two other mercenaries, who were further away by the third farm, come running to help their leader.

  Camu, are you in position?

  I am.

  Bring down the last one.

  Lasgol aimed at the two mercenaries, ignoring their leader. All of a sudden, the one further behind was hurled off his feet to one side, lost his balance and fell back heavily. His comrade, unaware of this, kept running toward Lasgol, who waited until he had a clear shot and then released. The arrow went through the man’s neck. He stopped, dropped his weapons and fell to the ground, choking. Lasgol gave a sigh of relief. He had aimed at the man’s torso, but the shot had gone a little high. He nocked again and saw Camu tripping the mercenary, who had no idea what invisible force was pushing him to the ground so violently.

  Ona. Stalk, Lasgol ordered.

  The panther came out from behind the house. As if she were starting to hunt a deer, she approached the enemy leader from behind with total stealth, unobserved. The mercenary, meanwhile, still holding the woman in his grasp and threatening to cut her throat, was yelling at Lasgol and pointing his scimit
ar at him. The peasants seemed to be too terrified to intervene. Lasgol was glad of this, since any interference at that critical moment might be fatal for either the poor woman or whichever peasant stepped in – or worse still, for Ona or Camu.

  Camu brought down his third man, who gave a desperate scream. The leader yelled at him for help, signaling with his sword as he did so, but before the mercenary could get up from the ground Lasgol’s arrow got him in the stomach. The shot had come out a little low. He nocked his bow again, while the mercenary writhed with pain on the ground.

  Now the only one left was the leader, who had not noticed Ona’s presence behind him. The panther was crouching and ready to pounce, her fur blending in with the last of the snow which partially covered the side of the house. Lasgol took a step forward. The mercenary leader shouted threateningly and gestured with his sword, ordering him to lower his bow. Lasgol knew that with a True Shot at this distance he could get him in the arm, even the forehead if he did not move too much. But there was no guarantee that his opponent would not cut the peasant’s throat at the last moment, and he hesitated before using that skill. Invoking it would take time which he was not sure he had, seeing how critical the situation was.

  The woman was sobbing in terror. Her look of horror and her staring eyes screamed that she wanted to live. She was looking aside at one of the children, who looked very like her. An old woman was holding back the boy, who was struggling to go to the woman’s aid. This must be her son. Lasgol swallowed, unwilling to risk a shot. He did not want to risk the poor woman’s life. Very slowly he lowered his bow, and left it and the arrow on the ground, then raised his hands and showed them to the mercenary leader. The huge warrior gave him an evil smirk, revealing a set of ivory teeth. He pointed his scimitar at him and called out something in Nocean. Lasgol had no doubt that he had now been condemned to death. The leader laughed and relaxed for a moment, seeing that Lasgol was no longer a threat, then released the pressure on the woman’s neck. The knife was no longer at her throat but two finger-breadths below. It would be enough. Lasgol knew this was the moment to act.

  Ona. Bring down, he ordered.

  The panther gave an enormous leap with her hind legs and fell on the mercenary leader with tremendous force. The woman was thrown forward as the leader fell to the ground under the force of the impact. Lasgol ran to the woman, grabbed her by the arms and pulled her back, then took out his Ranger knife and axe. With a massive heave the leader pushed Ona back with his arm and shoulder, so that she fell on her back. He stood up and grasped his scimitar.

  Ona. Watch, Lasgol ordered, so that she would not attack but remain on guard. He did not want the mercenary to hurt her.

  “I’m waiting for you, big man,” Lasgol said. He showed him his weapons with a gesture of total indifference, as if he did not fear him at all, which was very far from the truth. He knew he was in a weak position in close combat with that enormous Nocean. But at the same time, he had his Gift and his two partners.

  Apparently the man did not understand Norghanian, but on the other hand he understood that disdainful pose perfectly well. He lunged at him, slashing to right and left. Lasgol slid to one side and thanks to his enhanced reflexes, allowed the sword to pass him by without touching him.

  He could not see Camu, but he knew he must be close at hand. Camu, bring down, he ordered.

  Suddenly the huge warrior was unexpectedly butted in the back by something invisible, and fell forward. He struggled to his knees.

  Ona. Bring down.

  The panther gave another enormous leap, and before the man could get back to his feet and recover, she fell on him and pushed him over again. Lasgol, wasting no time, ran to the mercenary while he was still trying to stand up, cursing. Being so big had many advantages in combat, but not when getting back on his feet, and Lasgol seized his chance. The mercenary dodged his axe with his own scimitar, but he could not block the knife, which buried itself in his throat. Wide-eyed, he stared back at Lasgol, who pulled out his knife and moved back rapidly, at the same time gesturing Ona to move away too. The Nocean dropped his sword, put his hands to his throat and stepped back. Despair showed on his face as he realized that the wound was deadly. After a moment he fell dead to one side.

  Very nice bit of work, both of you! Lasgol told his two friends.

  Easy job, Camu transmitted with a feeling that was half one of joy, half one of pride in what they had achieved. Ona chirped in acknowledgement.

  That certainly wasn’t easy. That poor woman nearly didn’t make it. Things got very complicated, as I was afraid they would.

  You not release.

  I couldn’t see it clearly. I was very worried about the knife at her neck. If I didn’t kill him instantly, he was going to cut her throat. I didn’t think I could cause death so instantly with a single shot, and if I didn’t, the woman would’ve died. It was too risky.

  Put bow down, more risk.

  Yeah, it wasn’t the best possible strategy, but it worked.

  Ona complained with a moan. She had been equally unhappy about the way he had lowered his bow.

  Let’s hope next time I can come up with something better …

  Yeah, better, Camu agreed.

  Maybe we ought to prepare ourselves to face situations like this …

  Fun.

  Lasgol was about to tell him there was no fun involved, but after how well they had done, he could not bring himself to.

  You’re fantastic, he said gratefully.

  I fantastic.

  And so is Ona.

  Ona second fantastic.

  Ona moaned in protest.

  You’re impossible, Camu.

  I possible.

  Lasgol shook his head and rolled his eyes.

  The farmer families were hugging one another, glad to have come out of their desperate situation alive, even though nothing would wipe away the terror they had felt in their souls, or their grief over their dead relatives. The woman whose life Lasgol had saved came to him and took his hands.

  “Thank you … so much …” she muttered, part-terrified, part-grateful.

  “You’re welcome,” he said reassuringly. “It’s over now.”

  “Thank you, Ranger, you’ve saved us all,” said one of the elderly farmers, who must have been over seventy.

  “It’s my duty as a Ranger,” Lasgol replied. Seeing their grateful faces, he felt deep pride in being a Ranger and being able to defend those in need.

  “If it hadn’t been for your help …” said the young woman who had been dragged into the farm. She still looked terrified. Her little brother hugged her tightly.

  Lasgol was looking sadly at the murdered farmers. “I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner.”

  “They were good men,” the blonde woman said. She wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her frock. “They tried to defend us.”

  “They killed them … as if their lives were worthless,” the brown-haired girl said. She was in tears. “They didn’t deserve to die like that. They didn’t know how to fight, they didn’t stand a chance.”

  “Devils take them!” cried one of the children as he ran to the side of one of the fallen.

  “I’m sorry I couldn’t save all of you,” Lasgol said. “Is there anything else I can do? Whatever you need.” He looked up at the farm, which had stopped burning and was almost completely destroyed by now. He wished he could have done more for those poor people.

  “You’ve already done a lot, Ranger,” said an old woman who was hugging a little girl. “The farm’s lost, and my son’s dead. There’s nothing to be done. That’s life here in the North. War always brings misfortune and suffering. This one was no different.” There was profound sorrow in her voice.

  “We’ll take you in,” said the woman who had nearly had her throat cut.

  “Thank you … with all my heart …”

  “We Norghanians help one another in times of woe,” another elderly man said. “Our home is yours too.”

  Tears fl
owed, and grief and pain took over the families who had lost their loved ones. Lasgol insisted on helping, but they would not allow it. They begged him to go on with his duty of helping Norghana, because there was nothing more he could do there. They would say farewell to their loved ones and prepare funeral pyres for their eternal journey to the Ice Gods. At last, Lasgol took his leave and left, with a heavy heart, to go on with his mission.

  That evening, resting beside a fire in a roadside wood, Lasgol was petting his two friends. One hand was on Camu, the other on Ona, as if they were two huge playful pups. They were both enjoying his affections immensely. Trotter, who always preferred to stay a little further away from the two friends, was resting beside a tree a few paces away. Lasgol could not help smiling delightedly. The love and comradeship Ona and Camu willingly gave him, filled him with great joy.

  He smiled. Cuddly, that’s what you two are, a cuddly pair.

  I not cuddly. Ona cuddly.

  Oh yeah? That’s why I’m scratching your tummy and you’ve been lying with your legs in the air without moving for quite a while. You’re not enjoying this at all. I can see that clearly.

  I not enjoy. Ona enjoy.

  Can you believe what he’s saying, Ona?

  The panther protested.

  Exactly. Camu, you don’t fool us. You’re enjoying the petting too. Or would you rather I stopped and only stroked Ona. As you don’t like it …

  Camu, lying on the ground with his legs flexed in the air, stared at Lasgol without moving. Go on a little more, he begged, looking saintly.

  That’s what I thought, Lasgol laughed, and Ona let out a chirp that sounded like a giggle.

  They settled down to sleep. It took Lasgol a while to fall asleep after what had happened, but he finally did. The presence of Ona and Camu at his side made him feel safe. His first dream of the night was turbulent, but in the end his sleep was peaceful and pleasant.

  With the arrival of dawn, they got ready to set off again. An idea he had had in mind since the confrontation with the mercenaries came back to him.