Kelren Among the Skiras by Julie Rollins

Kelren Among the Skiras by Julie Rollins

Author:Julie Rollins [Rollins, Julie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Gyroscope Books
Published: 2016-11-26T22:00:00+00:00


9. Destroying Spirit

Kelren bounced like a flea on his mighty bataka. Although his legs didn’t hurt, the hairy back was too broad for him to grip with his knees, so he clung to the saddle strap to keep upright. He hoped Shilat Kanthus would find another little bataka for him soon! The Skiras thundered into the sleepy village.

“Now what?” Astap called.

Hopping down, Kelren shouted, “Buy an empty preserving jar with a lid, a large straining cloth, and a seasoning cup of red paint. Then follow me to the waste pit!”

* * *

After tethering their mounts, the Skiras crept up to the old quarry.

Bittan met them. “Just before you arrived, five Shadow Warriors left to go searching for our camp. Ten remained here to guard Master Padash.”

“Is he still alive?” Benawar whispered.

“Dala. They are waiting for their leader, Kytan, to come and examine him. Apparently Kytan is very skilled in persuading his prisoners to talk.”

Kelren slid off his huge mount and took the preserving jar from Benawar. “If I’m successful, then get ready to ride out of here fast!”

“And if you’re not?” Astap asked.

Kelren clutched the jar. “Then come and get me!”

“I hope your deception works,” Bittan whispered fervently.

“May Yavana be your rear guard!” Benawar added.

“Amen!” Kelren breathed in English. Taking his jar, he crept out of the cover of the woods. The ridge jutted out into the quarry, a peninsula surrounded by a sea of empty air. At the far end stood a bataka-hide tent. Four Shadow Warriors stiffened when they saw him.

“It’s him!”

“The heir-son!”

“Where is his spear? His bow? He isn’t coming to us unarmed, is he?”

The other six warriors rushed out of the tent. Kelren tried to appear calm as he approached the warriors. They were big, even by mashtic standards. One wore a twisted smile. Raising his spear, he prepared to throw it.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Kelren said in a casual voice.

The warrior’s fingers wiggled as they held the spear. “Why not?”

“Because you don’t know what I have in this jar. If you hurt me, I might drop it.” Kelren’s face wore a devious smile of its own. “And you might not like that.”

The warrior’s eyes wandered to the clay container. “I can’t think of anything I should fear that comes in a jar!” he sneered. “What’s in it?”

Kelren felt uncomfortable with the idea of lying, but he had no problem with letting the warrior draw his own false conclusions.

“It might be filled with hundreds of little flies,” he said, nodding ominously.

“Flies?” The warrior laughed, but kept a tight grip on his spear. “Why should I fear flies?”

Kelren shook the pot. Then he pressed his ear against it to listen. “Well, they might be dung flies, or they might be …” His eyes wandered back to the warrior again. He smiled.

“Bistits!” a warrior whispered in dread. He took a quick step back.

The warrior with the spear abandoned his cocky smile. “What do you want?”

“Master Padash, of course.” Kelren took a step closer.

“You’re bluffing!” the warrior snarled.



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