Teleporter (a Hyllis family story #2) (19 page)

“Yeah,” Tarc said feeling somewhat sheepish.

She reached out and patted him on the shoulder, “I appreciate the offer though. You’d better get some rest, so you’ll be ready for your watch tonight.”

Tarc felt humiliated. He wanted to say, “
My
arrows killed
six
of those eleven soldiers today!” but bragging about killing seemed like the worst form of crassness. He
certainly
couldn’t tell her that his
talent
had guided all eleven arrows home.

***

Tarc had just started his watch on top of the shooting platform over the guard wagon. He had a reflector lantern and would occasionally sweep the surrounding fields with its beam. Although he did this, as he’d been instructed, he didn’t really watch the beam because his ghost could sense considerably farther out than he could see in the meager beam.

When he first detected one of the raiders’ scouts approaching along the fence line from the direction of the woods, he did feel the temptation to try to point the beam at him. Before he did so, he realized that the beam wouldn’t reach and that pointing it directly at the man would suggest he had some other means of detection. So, Tarc kept sweeping the beam slowly back and forth without watching it at all as he focused all of his attention on what his ghost told him about the man.

Although Tarc could detect the man readily enough, sensing what weapons the man carried was difficult because they weren’t warm. As the man approached, Tarc apprehensively realized that he was carrying a bow. The man stopped about forty yards away, just behind the fence post at the corner of the little pasture Prichard kept for the caravan’s animals.

This was considerably closer than the scouts had come the previous night. Tarc uneasily wondered whether the man had a purpose beyond scouting. He had assumed that they approached the night before just to be sure that the caravan hadn’t begun to leave in the dark. Forty yards seemed closer than necessary to be sure the caravan wasn’t loading up. Especially in view of the fires the caravan was keeping. The flames had to outline the wagons and any activity to someone out there in the dark.

Suddenly, Tarc heard Lizeth’s voice. She was the roving guard, coming around to check on the others. “See anything Tarc?” she asked quietly.

“Um, no, but I heard something.” He replied in a similar low tone. “It sounded like someone stepped on something out that direction.” He turned the weak beam of his lantern directly toward the scout. The man immediately hunched down behind the fence post, though Tarc couldn’t see either the post or the man in the weak lantern beam using just his eyes.

He sensed Lizeth with his ghost. She was shading her eyes, presumably to keep extraneous light out of them, and peering out along the beam of the lantern. “I don’t see anything, do you?” she said.”

“No, but I sure
think
there’s someone out there.”

“Well,” she said, obviously assuming that Tarc had imagined things, “keep your eye out. Call me if you
see
anything.”

Lizeth moved on. Tarc glanced down but could hardly see her in her dark clothing. However, his ghost sense could easily follow her shapely form and vaguely catlike stride. It wasn’t exactly like she was nude, her clothes, slightly warmed by her body lay over the more definite image of her figure. But, in Tarc’s mind, the slender, muscular and quite feminine shape of the body inside the clothing strongly predominated. He followed her until she was far enough away that her form no longer tantalized him.

When Tarc turned his attention back to the scout, he realized in full panic mode that the man was stringing his bow. Tarc fumbled for his own bow. In the dark he had to turn his attention from the scout to finding the string of his own bow when he dropped it. Once he had the bow strung he turned his attention back to the scout out there in the darkness. Simultaneously he fumbled with his right hand for an arrow in one of the quivers built into the little protective wall on the front of the shooting platform.

The man had leaned back, his left arm pushed up into the air and the right pulled back. He was about to drop a high arching arrow into the caravan! With people and animals packed so tightly together he had an excellent chance of hitting a target. Just killing one of the animals would slow the caravan when it tried to leave. Striking people would
terrorize
the caravan.

Of course, if the arrow hit Tarc, that would be highly undesirable too.

His ghost saw the man release an arrow and reach for another.

Tarc’s suddenly thick fingers fumbled with the arrow like in a bad dream. He wondered why he hadn’t had this problem yesterday, not realizing that the smoldering anger he’d felt when the man attacked Lizeth had kept him from feeling fear.

Tarc’s arrow tumbled from his clumsy fingers!

Tarc’s ghost found the scout’s arrow falling into the caravan. It came down out in the middle of the circle. Tarc faintly heard the whump of it penetrating the large body of the animal it came down on, but he wasn’t sure what it had hit until he heard the squealing of a mule.

Tarc was kneeling, trying to find the arrow he’d dropped, when he realized he should just get another one out of the quiver. He stood back up, found the quiver, and pulled out an arrow. He almost stopped when another arrow came out with it; after all, he’d always stopped if an extra arrow came out during target practice. He didn’t want them to fall and be damaged. Cursing himself, he let the extra arrow fall and fumbled the one he had onto his bowstring.

The scout had fired another arrow before Tarc brought his own arrow to bear on the ghostly image of his opponent.

Tarc fired. Instantly, he could tell he hadn’t given the arrow enough loft! He lifted the arrowhead with his talent as he fumbled for another arrow with his right hand. A second later the arrow’s fletching dragged the ground for a second before it skidded into the fence post the scout stood behind.

The scout’s second arrow was falling. Remembering what he’d done in the square, Tarc reached out and guided it down to land between two of the beasts in the circle.

Tarc had out another arrow. As he drew, the scout released a third arrow. He eased his own draw so he could follow the scout’s arrow. This one was coming down on a wagon across the circle! Tarc reached out and pulled on it, but he didn’t have much control at this distance. He did manage to pull it nearly to the side of the wagon, but thought it might have hit someone’s hand.

Immediately turning his attention back to his own arrow, Tarc drew and loosed. Unfortunately, the scout was drawing his own! Tarc was torn: guide his own arrow to its target, or guide the scout’s so it would miss? In the square he’d applied a little guidance to each of multiple arrows, but they’d been fairly close to one another and going similar directions. Most importantly they were all coming closer which gave him better and better control. With these going in opposite directions he knew it would take him precious moments to transfer his attention from one to the other!

With a sense of desperation he decided to control his own arrow. If it was too far off to bring it home into his opponent, he would then transfer all of his attention to the arrow coming into the caravan. His shot was pretty good. He was pulling it to go into his opponent’s head like he had in the morning when suddenly he realized there would be many questions if he shot the man in the skull, in the dark, at a long distance. He steered it down and into the man’s right shoulder. As soon as he was sure it was going to hit, he turned his attention to the scout’s falling arrow.

From the shouting Tarc heard, someone had found an arrow. Now others in the caravan knew what was causing the commotion. The falling arrow was about to hit another of the animals. It was already too close to impact for Tarc to do much, but he managed to push it far enough that it hit the animal’s haunch rather than mid body. This time the squeal of a horse pealed out over the camp.

His ghost sense told Tarc the animals were surging back and forth in a panic. The caravaners were out of their tents and some, mostly women he thought, were trying to calm the animals. Others were getting weapons and peering out between the wagons looking for assailants.

Tarc turned his attention back to the scout. The man knelt, left hand to right shoulder where Tarc could faintly sense his arrow protruding, mostly out the back. The man staggered to his feet and stumbled away toward the woods. Tarc knelt to pick up the arrows he’d dropped into the shooting platform. Below him he heard Lizeth’s voice, “Tarc, dammit! Get your light pointing out there! We’ve got to find that son of a bitch who’s shooting at us!”

Tarc stood back up with the lantern he’d set down when he started shooting. He pointed it out over the fields and swept it around.

It showed nothing of course.

With the enemy gone and the animals panicking inside the caravan’s circle, they needed Tarc a lot more inside the camp with the animals than they did up on the shooting platform pointing his light out over an empty field!

Desperately, he wished he could explain it to them.

Most of Tarc’s watch was taken up with the settling of the caravan back down. The arrow that landed in a wagon had in fact hit Jesse Carter’s hand. Actually only her finger, which it effectively amputated. Eva merely washed and bandaged the stump. The arrow that hit the mule went through its intestine and the mule had to be put down. The arrow in the horse’s haunch only injured muscle. Eva advised drawing it out and hoping the wound didn’t get infected. Getting the arrow out of the agitated horse was difficult though and the horse neighing in pain made it difficult to calm the rest of the animals.

Two of the guards went out with lanterns and swept around looking for the archer. Their suspicion was that he might be lying in wait for the camp to settle down, whereupon he would send in some more arrows. As a terror ploy, that did sound reasonable to Tarc even though he knew the man was gone.

At first, Tarc thought he might try to send the guards to where the archer had actually been. There might be blood there to tell them where the man had been and that he must have left. Then Tarc realized that the most obvious evidence of the archer’s presence would be Tarc’s arrow, stuck into the base of the fence post. Blood would suggest that another arrow had been successful. Because it was one of the guard’s arrows and pointed directly back at Tarc’s location, it would raise a lot of questions he didn’t want to have to answer.

He resolved to pick up the arrow in the morning before anyone else found it.

With the camp calm, when Tarc’s watch was over he was looking forward to getting some sleep. As he was starting to crawl into his tent, he sent his ghost over to check on Lizeth. She was in her tent, but wasn’t lying down. She seemed to be changing her boots?

A minute or two later, she came back out of her little tent and moved off towards the back of the caravan circle. Tarc suddenly realized that she was still planning to go out on her scouting trip. For some reason, he’d assumed that after all the excitement she would cancel it.

Tarc quickly pulled his own boots back on, then went to the wagon to get his bow and over-the-shoulder quiver. He considered getting his sword, but it tended to make noise when he walked.

Besides he wasn’t any good with a sword.

Minutes later he was leaving the back side of the camp himself. Lizeth was about 100 yards away and completely invisible in the darkness, but easily detected by Tarc’s ghost. At first, he trotted a little bit to catch up, then realized that if he caught up enough for her to realize he was there, she would probably demand that he return to camp.

He started keeping a close watch, both by eye and with his ghost on the position of her head. When she turned to look behind her, he dropped to the ground and remained motionless.

He had thought that they would be going in somewhat the same direction that the raiders’ archer had been going when he left, but they weren’t. Then he remembered that Lizeth had heard the raiders were staying at a farm further along the road the caravan was following. She seemed to be heading in approximately that direction. He wondered where the raider had been going. With an arrow wound like the archer had in his shoulder, Tarc would have thought he would have been heading directly back to his base, but maybe he had a good path he followed. Or maybe Lizeth’s info on the location of their camp was faulty.

They traveled on across country. A crescent moon had risen since the caravan had been attacked. Tarc thought that Lizeth must’ve been waiting for moonlight before she undertook her mission. He could sense and sometimes see the road off to their left a ways and wondered why Lizeth didn’t move over to it. It would certainly make travel much easier.

After some thought, he realized that she probably suspected the raiders had a guard on the road.

They entered some woods. The going was a little difficult even for Tarc, who could sense the paths, underbrush, and various roots that obstructed their route. In the poor lighting, Lizeth had quite a bit of difficulty. She occasionally had to stop and double back.

Tarc felt amazed by her stamina. After standing a watch and going through the excitement of the attack, he felt drained. Traveling over the rough land and through the woods was taking it out of him, even though, as opposed to Lizeth, he could tell where to place his feet. He kept expecting to hear her cursing when she made a misstep or had to double back, but she remained silent.

Eventually, she stopped at the other edge of the woods. At first Tarc just waited behind her, but then he realized she was observing whatever was going on out there. He slowly moved off to her left, maintaining his distance from her, but closing on the road. He figured this was a good opportunity to examine the area near the road for anything the raiders might have done to prepare an ambush for travelers. To his surprise, he didn’t find anything. Then he realized that if they had had an ambush set up, they would’ve used it when the caravan went out the previous morning.
They’ll probably build one as soon as they have time
, he thought to himself.

Tarc reached the edge of the woods. Lizeth still hadn’t moved, so he spent some time studying the next farmstead himself. Both the house and the barn had many body-temperature objects in them. At this distance he couldn’t tell for sure what they were. The objects in the barn weren’t big enough to be horses, cattle or oxen. They could have been small pigs, but Tarc suspected that they were the captured womenfolk from the other farms.

Six other warm spots were scattered about in a loose circle around the farm buildings. They probably represented guards Tarc decided. They were pretty well hidden; he really couldn’t see them without using his ghost.

Lizeth started moving closer to Tarc. At first he thought that somehow she’d detected him, but then she moved out of the woods into a little swale that lay between her first position and his current location. Possibly it was a streambed after a big rain, but it was dry right now. It meandered towards and passed fairly close to the farmhouse. Tarc realized she was hoping to use it for cover as she approached it.

Unfortunately, two of the guards were hiding in it. With a curse, Tarc started toward the swale himself. He moved faster than Lizeth was traveling because his ghost let him watch his footsteps even in the dim lighting, but he was afraid he wasn’t going to catch up to her in time.

And what the hell am I going to say to her if I do catch up to her? I just happened to be out here? Somehow I know that there’s a guard hidden in those bushes just up ahead on your path?

Besides,
she
was the fighter. Tarc’s ghost told him that she was carrying her sword out of its sheath and with the speed he’d seen her display, Tarc suspected that she could take out any guard who attacked her.

He abandoned any plan he’d had to run full speed in order to catch up and warn her. Instead, he continued a steady pace. Not really a run, but not just a fast walk either. He danced along on his tip toes, almost leaping from spot to spot, landing where his ghost told him the ground was stable and wouldn’t make noise. He didn’t know what to call this method of travel.

Lizeth glanced back and Tarc ducked behind a bush. Now she was approaching the guard. Did she see him? Did he see her? Tarc’s tension ratcheted up.

To Tarc’s astonishment, Lizeth walked right past the man! Was he asleep? No! The guard slowly rose and stepped out of the bushes he’d been hiding in, then into the bottom of the little swale behind her. He turned to stealthily follow Lizeth!

Tarc felt astonished that the guard had focused on Lizeth without noticing Tarc himself. Tarc was about fifteen yards back now. He kept up his “almost run.”

Lizeth was approaching the next guard. Suddenly, the one behind her said, “Corn.”

Lizeth spun around while Tarc wondered why the hell the man would say “corn.” Then he realized it was probably the first half of a challenge and response password.

Lizeth lifted her sword, but Tarc realized that any chance she might have had for a stealthy reconnaissance of the farm was rapidly evaporating. He reached back over his shoulder.

Lizeth’s eyes widened as she saw Tarc approaching behind the man. She quietly said, “bread.”

Tarc stopped ten feet behind the guard, wondering if Lizeth actually knew the response to the challenge.
Could she be with them?

The second guard stepped out and started moving up behind Lizeth!
It doesn’t look like she is with them!

Lizeth stepped towards the guard in front of Tarc as the man laughed and lifted his own sword. He said, “Wrong response honey, you were supposed to say ‘cob.’ Now drop your pretty little sword before I have to hurt you.”

Tarc heard a light “clink” as Lizeth’s sword pushed the guard’s aside during an astonishing lunge that sent the tip of her blade up under his chin and into his skull.

Tarc threw his knife, then started backing up with his hands held in the air as Lizeth stalked after him, the bloody point of her sword right in front of his nose. “What the
hell
did
you
just throw at me you sniveling little shit?!”

Eyes crossed to focus on the point of her sword, Tarc kept backing up. He kept from stumbling by using his ghost to determine where to place his feet. He said, “Um, behind you.”

Lizeth couldn’t believe that the Hyllis kid had been there behind her. He had to have followed her from the caravan campground, but how could a wet behind the ears, citified, boy
serving-wench
, have followed her across the countryside without her noticing him?! And then gotten close enough behind her that he could’ve thrown something at her. She wasn’t so much upset that he
tried
to follow, but she was horrified that he’d
succeeded
in shadowing, and disgusted that she’d let him get in a position to attack her!

No one got the drop on Lizeth Salder!

Staring at the boy, she said, “You’re not going to fool me with
that
crap. Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you right
now
!”

“Really, there was a guy behind you too!”

Lizeth suddenly leapt to the side, knowing that when she moved quickly others simply couldn’t keep up. She glanced back where she’d been coming from. There were two bodies back there, not just one! She looked back at Tarc. Still holding the point of her sword on him, she glanced back again.

Narrowing her eyes she looked at Tarc another time. She waved her sword a little and bobbed her head in the direction back toward the two guards. “Let’s you and I go back down there and try to figure out what just happened.”

Lizeth directed Tarc with her sword until he was leading the way back down the swale to the two bodies. Lizeth stayed right behind him with the point of her sword just behind the middle of his back.

When they reached the two sprawled figures, Lizeth ignored the one she’d taken out herself. Instead, she walked Tarc to the second one. This appeared to be a man much like the one she’d taken out with her sword. Unmoving, muscular, large, a sword lying by his hand, he lay face down in a slightly contorted posture. He couldn’t possibly have been lying there when she had been walking down the swale, could he? She shook her head,
Even as focused as I was on the heads up view, I couldn’t possibly have missed someone lying right in my path!

“What the hell…” she said wonderingly. She nudged the man with a toe, keeping her sword unwaveringly on Tarc. When the man didn’t respond, she slid her toes under his shoulder and lifted until he rolled onto his back. A knife was sticking out of his eye socket! “Holy shit!” she breathed, her eyes slowly sliding up and over to stare into Tarc’s. “
You’re
the one?”

“Um, what one?”

She gave him a sly grin, “The one that stuck a blade into the eye socket of so many of Krait’s men back in Walterston!”

Tarc shrugged noncommittally.

“You sneaky little bastard,” she said with a grin, stepping closer and punching him in the shoulder.

Tarc looked like he was resisting the temptation to reach up and rub his shoulder.
“Um…” he said.

“‘Um!
That’s
all you’ve got to say for yourself?! Hell, if I’d
known
you were a lean, mean, killing machine, I would’ve been
begging
you to come with me, not trying to leave you home with Mommy!”

Tarc gave her a sheepish grin. But then he said quietly, “I’m not real proud of all those guys I killed. I hope you won’t start telling everyone?”

Lizeth stared at him wide-eyed for a moment; then she broke into a grin. A moment later, she doubled over, hand over her mouth as she tried to stifle a fit of laughter.

Getting control of herself, she straightened up, wiped an eye, and said, “Sorry. The guys I hang with bend over backwards to try to get people to think they’re dangerous killers, even if they aren’t. Your request just caught me by surprise is all.” She grinned again, then forced her face to solemnity and gave him a little bow. “Your secret will be safe with me.”

Tarc glanced down at the two bodies, then bent down and pulled his knife out of the closest one. He wiped it carefully on the man’s shirt, appearing to pay particular attention to the junction between the hilt and the tang. “Are we going back now?” he asked.

“Oh
hell
no! Now that we know their challenge and response, we’re going to take out more of their guards. Finding a bunch of their guards dead’ll take the starch out of the bastards.”

“Um,” Tarc said, “I’m not too excited to just go around killing people.”

“Tarc,” she paused, considering her words, “you need to think about what you just said. First of all, think about what these guys did to the town you used to live in. Think of what they did to the people who lived there, some of them probably your friends. Think of what they’ve done to your life, forcing you onto the road and costing your family its tavern. Then, consider what’s happened to the people on the farms around here, not just the men killed and the women raped or enslaved, but also the heavy taxes they’ve imposed. Finally, think about what’s going to happen to you, your family, and the rest of the people you’ve come to know in the caravan! Unless something is done about these guys, they
are
going to attack us. We got lucky today… but just think of that stunt a few hours ago, shooting random arrows into the caravan! Women, children, animals, they don’t care! These guys are sick!
Somebody
needs to do something about them, but Prichard, Norton, and Arco don’t think they can.”

“
They
can’t, but you think the two of us can?!”