T'Lan'toria

Chapter 4

“Let me get this straight! You, high and mighty Kelaine need me! I never thought the day would come!” Praetor laughed so hard his frame shook. Kelaine and Praetor were outside while Janorda and Joel scrambled around the hut looking for supplies. Kelaine and Praetor were supposed to be mapping out their journey. Kelaine ground his teeth.

“Look, Praetor, we have work to do. I know this is a bit much to ask but shut that gaping trap of yours. Get this straight- I am leading this party, I am the one in charge and you will follow my orders. Save your gloating until after we are finished. We have a job to do. My sister felt you’d be useful, but if I find you distracting, annoying or in any way displeasing, you will meet with a bad end.”

“Are you threatening me, Kelaine? I don’t do well when threatened,” His mood had changed abruptly. He smiled, all teeth, and fingered the knife on his belt. “I’ll ignore your threats this time, for your sister. But don’t cross me again, you don’t know what you are dealing with. Oh, I’ll play in your little charade. I’ll work with you only so long as your back is covered, but watch for the day when it’s not, because I’ll be there.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Kelaine muttered when Praetor turned to attend to his horse. “Just so long as we understand each other.”

Joel emerged from the hut, a pack slung over her shoulders. Her grin slipped a little before returning with a determined fastness when she felt the tension between her brother and the man. “Janorda, I think it’s time we said goodbye old friend.”

“Yes, I do believe you need to be going. Moving around after dark isn’t the safest thing for a young girl like you. If you move quickly you can make it to Clott’s before full dark.”

“Goodbye now,” Joel and Janorda hugged each other.
Kelaine held out an expectant hand towards his sister to help her mount Tanreal.

“Joel, you look far too tired to ride that beast for very long. Come up beside me,” Praetor drew his horse next to Joel. Kelaine gave an irritated look at Praetor but before he could say anything, his sister smiled.

“Why thank you so kindly Praetor. I would like to ride a little nearer the ground tonight.” Kelaine threw her a puzzled and hurt look but she pretended not to notice as Praetor helped her onto his horse and swung up behind her.

“Well, we better be off, Janorda. We don’t want to be out at dark, as you said so wisely,” Praetor threw a cocky look over to Kelaine. “Hurry up and mount your beast. We’ll see you at Clotts’.” With that, Praetor urged his horse off, shooting clods of muck behind him at Kelaine.

“Kelaine,” Janorda’s voice had changed. It was now clear, strong and sounded very young, “I know you don’t trust me or Praetor. I’m not asking you to. Your sister is stronger than you think but she’ll need you more than ever. Do not smother her, but watch her carefully. I knew your mother well and Joel has much of your mother in her.” Kelaine turned to look at the woman but as he did, Tanreal let out an anxious sigh and Kelaine hurriedly calmed the animal. By the time he was finished, Janorda was gone.

Puzzled Kelaine swung himself into the two-person saddle. “Lets keep low to the ground and keep an eye on that sister of mine, shall we?”

A few leagues later, as Tanreal and Kelaine circled in the sky above Joel and Praetor, Kelaine thought about the words of the old woman.

“Crazy old hag,” he muttered and Tanreal nodded in agreement. “What could she mean—she’s just off her rocker, that’s it. It has to be. She couldn’t even be as old as Joel is, let alone our mother’s age. Then again, I’ve always felt that nagging feeling around her, as though something was not quite right.” Tanreal looked back at Kelaine, snorted and rolled his eyes. “All right, all right. I’ll be quiet now.” Tanreal hummed softly and Kelaine soon lost himself in its rhythm.

<<Kelaine! KELAINE!>> Joel’s voice pierced his rest.

<<Huh? What?>> Kelaine shook himself and looked around. Something wasn’t right. Kelaine quickly broke off contact with his sister, shook his head as if to clear himself and bent to pat Tanreal’s head. As he moved forward, he felt as though he was hitting a wall of ice. Tanreal’s head wasn’t right, colors kept shifting and Kelaine felt like he was looking through warbled glass. Kelaine heard a scream, high pitched, from the ground below. He knew that voice but couldn’t remember where. Suddenly the saddle lurched and Kelaine realized he was rising higher and higher in the air. The higher he became, the more his vision cleared. Tanreal twisted his neck and nudged Kelaine, whimpering. The contact roused Kelaine from his stupor. Shaking, Kelaine looked down. The sun was almost completely gone but he could see well enough to know that his sister and Praetor were in deep trouble. Four hooded beings surrounded the two on the horse, light shooting from outstretched hands to make a dome over Praetor and Joel.

“Great. Dranlies,” Kelaine growled under his breath at Tanreal, “just what we need.”

As Kelaine thought about what to do while in the air, his sister on the ground had no such luxuries.

“Good, at least he’s safe from this,” Joel whispered to Praetor. “I was at least able to warn him before he too was trapped.”

“Too bad your brother doesn’t pay close attention to—Ow! What was that for?” Praetor hissed, rubbing his side where Joel had expertly poked his ribs.

“Quiet,” was all she said before the dome was complete. Complete. Joel felt ill, she was cut off from the world, trapped in her mind. A part of her knew she was in the dome, that she was on a horse with Praetor holding on to her, but for the most part, she knew nothing. She was disconnected. She couldn’t move. If this went on for much longer, she knew she would forget even her own name. Please Kelaine, hurry! she thought before succumbing to the blackness.

Praetor felt her go limp in his arms. “What the devil is going on!” he mumbled. He couldn’t see the dome. All he saw were four men forming a box around him and Joel, and Joel’s brother flying uselessly overhead.

“Four men never stopped this snake before,” he crooned to his horse. “Stay and keep the lady safe, old boy.”
Praetor jumped from the horse or tried to anyway. Instead of flying through the air he felt as though he had jumped into a bog. Gritting his teeth he drew his sword and moved forward, slowly but surely. One of the four men turned his attention from Joel to Praetor and laughed. A sound similar to metal scraping stone. Praetor felt a slash of pain through his leg but ignored it and moved forward. Curse Janorda! he thought, that old witch had better give him a good explanation for all of this! Praetor waded forward but knew he was getting nowhere. Then he heard it. A scream of an animal in total anguish and rage. Turning towards the sound he was surprised to see one of the four writhing in agony on the ground. Dranlies. The thought came to him suddenly as he stumbled forward. Creatures of the mind, attracted to that mythical thing called magic. Even in the Wilds they were old wives' tales. Praetor’s blood ran cold. I don’t want to know why they are here or what it is that’s stopping them, I just want to get away. Find a tavern with a wench or two. That’s all. But even as Praetor was thinking this, he knew it wasn’t true. No wench would stop his craving for Joel. Melodious, free Joel, true sunshine in a bottle.

A second Dranlie fell to the ground, also writhing in agony. Joel turned over in the saddle and let out a feeble moan. Praetor started towards the horse but before he could get to there he fell, unconscious, to the ground.

Kelaine stared grimly at the five limp beings on the ground. Four, he knew, were creatures of the Dark, one was just a man who was almost as bad to Kelaine’s mind. The Dranlies had been hard to fight and Kelaine had a slight headache from the strain. Tanreal nudged him towards his sister, who was struggling to sit up in the saddle. Praetor’s horse had turned to a fleshy statue, its mind crushed.

A large black dog bounded towards Kelaine from the surrounding trees, barking. A few moments later, a man followed. “I see Rupert has found you, Kelaine. And in such a sorry state.”

“Hello Clott. It’s been a while. Sorry to have made such a mess of your woods here.”

“No problems. At least, not so long as you brought your singing sister with you!” Clott winked. “But it looks like she’s in bad need of good lodging and strong drink.” Clott’s smiled in Joel’s direction, a fatherly smile. “I reckon you could use some of those accommodations yourself, especially after dealing with those,” Clott pointed a gnarled stump at the Dranlies bodies. “Four of em. Nasty buggers. I wonder what got into their heads.”

Rupert whined and gently took Clotts’ hand in his mouth and tugged Clott in the direction of Praetor’s disheveled rags.

“What have we here? A friend? I’ve never seen the two of you travel with anyone, other than Tanreal of course,” Clott nodded respectfully towards the large Nerea.

“I wouldn’t call him a friend,” Kelaine growled, then sighed. “But whatever he is, he’s part of my group. Let’s get these two back to your place and I’ll explain the whole story.”

With the help of Tanreal, Kelaine and Clott were able to get both Joel and Praetor to Clott’s cottage within the hour. After situating Joel in Clott’s bed and setting Praetor up in a cot in the far corner of the room, Kelaine and Clott sat at the small table in front of the hearth.

“So, Kelaine, why are you here? And who’s the stranger?” Clott said as he stirred with his only good hand the small kettle over the fire.

“As if you don’t know why I’m here,” Kelaine chuckled before grimacing in pain. “Sorry, my head is killing me.”

“Killing four Dranlies would do that. Just a few more minutes and this will be ready. As for your business in the Wilds, what’s going on Kelaine? And what’s with the stranger?”

“Trying to find three runaways. Boys without enough sense to stay home. The first two are unimportant but the third is the Regent’s only son. I believe the Klicch has great plans for him which is why we were sent to retrieve him. Joel thinks that”—he pointed to Praetor—“he could help us.”

“Don’t think much of him do you?” Clott sighed and shook his head slowly, “As for the other, that’s like trying to find three needles in a haystack. When did they leave home?”

“We think it was about four or five days ago.”
Clott gave a low whistle. “You have your work cut out for you, Kelaine. Those boys could be quite a ways by now, granted they are still alive,” he said. “Okay, here we go.” He took the kettle off the fire and poured its contents into three mugs. Clott set one of the mugs in front of Kelaine, “Drink up. Lucky you only need half of what they do. This stuff works but it doesn’t taste very good.”

Kelaine gingerly took the steaming mug between his hands as Clott stoked the fire. His head hurt terribly. Four Dranlies in one night. He should’ve known better than to let Joel travel on the ground. Especially at night. “Well, here goes nothing,” Kelaine grumbled as he drained the syrup from the mug. Clott looked up as the vessel hit the table.

“It usually only takes a few minutes to kick in. I’m going to need you with a clear head to help me give it to the others.” Clott rose from his stool by the fireplace and went to a bucket near the door. “Here you go,” he said as he returned carrying a clean cup, “fresh, cold water to wash it down with. I’d offer you ale but you need to have your wits about you on a night like this.” As soon as the cool water touched his tongue, Kelaine felt his head begin to clear.

“Feeling better, I see,” Clott laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. “Very good. Now let’s help that sister of yours.” They both turned to the bed where Joel lay. Unlike Praetor who was stiff and silent as a corpse, she was whimpering softly. So softly that Kelaine could barely hear it. Joel’s usually smiling face seemed frozen in a painful grimace. Kelaine had once been caught by Dranlies and he knew the torture his sister was going through. Dranlies crush the minds of non-magical beings and feed on that collectively, but to magical beings it is much worse. Dranlies trap a person inside their own mind and feed off the magical energy that that person emits trying to escape or survive their mind. Killing the Dranlies hadn’t been enough to free Joel of her prison but it did save her mind from being passed to the collective hive. Quietly, Kelaine started to hum; it was a whisper on the wind at first, quiet yet urgent. I have to get inside, Kelaine thought and he hummed more fervently for it.

Clott stood to one side, scratching Rupert between the eyes. He had helped the pair before and, while he wanted no part in their adventures, he was willing to help them and provide a safe haven. Clott jumped as Joel’s head started to thrash from side to side.

“Now,” Kelaine said. “She needs it now. But first let me see her mug.” Kelaine was scared by how panicked his sister had been, how lost she had seemed. As he took the mug from Clott, the old man gave him a sympathetic smile. Kelaine deftly dug in his hip pack with one hand for the little packet of rafieous root. “You mixture is very good,” he said, “but she needs this to regain what she has lost to them.” Clott gave a noncommittal grunt as Kelaine swirled the powder into the syrup. Clott looked at Kelaine who gave a decisive nod. Both men positioned themselves around Joel: Clott holding her up in a sitting position as Kelaine gently opened her mouth and forced her to swallow. After a few swallows, Joel’s face relaxed and her eyes fluttered open. Kelaine paused to let his sister breathe.

“That tastes horrible,” she murmured. Clott laughed and even Kelaine chortled.

“I know, but—”

“I have to drink all of it. Kelaine, I know. I remember saying the same to you on more than one occasion.” Kelaine moved to pour the mixture in her mouth but Joel put her hands up. “I am not so weak as that Kelaine,” she teased as she took the mug from her brother. Grimacing, she drained the mug. “Ugh! That tastes like the backside of a cow.” Joel shook her head as if to clear it and sat up away from Clott. “Thanks,” she said, “for everything.” She scanned the room. When she saw the far back corner where Praetor lay on the cot, her face became as still as stone. “Kelaine,” she said quietly, “is he…?”

“No, Joel, no. He’s just unconscious. Your warning gave me enough time to stop that.” Kelaine outwardly soothed his sister but inwardly he seethed, Wish I could’ve saved his horse. That was the only noble thing Praetor had.

Joel’s face had relaxed. “Sitting here won’t help him,” she stood up from the bed and gritted her teeth as the floor lurched up at her. “Rafieous root,” she grimaced. “Wasn’t sure if that was part of the dreams or not.” She shook her head to clear it and sat back down. “Clott, can I get some water? Kelaine, give me your pouch. Mine seems to have disappeared.” She raised an eyebrow at Kelaine as he handed her his pouch.

“Don’t worry, it’s safe. It’s over there with the saddle bags. I let Tanreal hunt tonight,” Kelaine said, almost defensively.

Clott stood up from the bed and quickly retrieved a cup of water for Joel. “Here you go, miss,” he said gruffly. For all Clott’s friendliness toward Kelaine, he felt awkward around any woman, especially one like Joel.

Joel dug around in her brother’s hip pack until she found a small packet, similar in size and appearance to the rafieous root. “Here we go,” she said as she unwrapped the packet and poured it into her water. “Kelaine, remind me to give you some of my willow bark until we can get some more. I’m using your last packet.” She drained the cup. “That should kick in eventually. Let’s get to work,” Joel’s voice had regained its fullness. “Clott? Would you mind helping me over there?”

Clott helped Joel stand up and they headed towards the corner where Praetor lay. Joel leaned heavily on Clott’s shoulder as they walked and Clott looked distinctly uncomfortable. Kelaine bit back a laugh as he watched the burly man stumble over a stool that Joel seemed to dance around. Joel definitely has that effect on him, Kelaine thought.

“Kelaine?” Joel called from the corner of the room. “I’m going to need your help.” Kelaine started. “Well, come on, we don’t have all night.” Kelaine grabbed the remaining mug from the table and hurried to join the two in the corner.

Joel, using Clott for support, hummed for a few seconds to evaluate the damage then motioned Kelaine to bring the drink. “I’ll hold his head up while you help him drink. Clott, will you help me get situated?”
Once Joel was settled, Kelaine moved reluctantly forward.

“Why couldn’t he have just died,” he grumbled, earning him a sharp look from his sister. “All right, all right already.” Kelaine moved towards Praetor’s semi-conscious body, took a deep breath and, under his sister’s watchful gaze, opened Praetor’s mouth. After the first few spluttering gulps, Praetor’s eyes opened.

“What the—” Praetor began, pushing the mug and Kelaine away. He continued, unaware of Joel’s presence, “You trying to poison me? Be forewarned, I am stronger than you may think.” He started to rise but small hands held him down.

“Shh, calm down Praetor. No one is trying to poison you,” Joel soothed. At the sound of her voice, Praetor stopped trying to struggle. Joel let him sink into the pillow and she stood next to her brother.

“It tastes vile enough,” he muttered quietly.

“He just woke up and I think I know how you feel Kelaine,” Clotts’ voice rumbled. Joel turned her clear gaze toward Clott who cleared his throat. “Well, I think Rupert and I will go get some more wood for the fire.”

Clott hurriedly left the room, taking his hound with him. Joel went over to the bags and started digging through to find her packs. Praetor turned his dark eyes on Kelaine, who was holding the mug expectantly.

“What? You think I’m going to finish that bile?” he sneered.

“Only if you want to join us in the search. Otherwise, I might be able to talk Clott into letting you stay and recoup for about two weeks. I don’t know how you’d feel about that, but personally, I like the idea.” Kelaine gave a small triumphant smile.

“Kelaine,” Joel’s voice warned. In a much softer tone she continued, “Praetor, if you expect to join us tomorrow, you will finish drinking what is in that mug.” Praetor bit back a protest when he saw Joel take the mug from her brother’s hand. “Kelaine, I believe we need some more water before night is completely set in.”

Kelaine watched a smug smile spread on Praetor’s face before he grabbed the half empty bucket and went out into the cool night air. He shut the door tightly behind him.

“Air get too hot in there for you too, eh?” Clott was sitting with his back to a tree ten paces from the door. Rupert was stretched out beside him; his giant head up and alert watching the forest surrounding the small cabin. Kelaine walked to the water pump and set the bucket under the spout.

“Something like that,” Kelaine grunted before venting his frustration on the pump.

“Just don’t break the pump. It takes a while to replace with only one arm.” Clott chuckled. “So I guess you didn’t leave of your own accord?” A loud snap accompanied that remark. “And there it goes,” he sighed. “Kelaine, there is some cured oak shafts in the box beside the door.”