Chapter 9: Chasing stories – part 3

“We told you to wait for us,” Yaling said, breathless, once she pulled the whistle out of her mouth.

“I had it handled,” D’Argen replied automatically and sheathed his dagger back in his boot. “Where are the others?”

“We found a cart by the road with three more bandits, Lilian went to stop them. Abbot saw the wounded men in the forest and is making sure they are alive. Is this all of them?”

“I don’t know. I saw five in total, chasing one.”

“And the one they were chasing?”

D’Argen looked back around the clearing as if the bearded man in the ornate robes would have shown back up while they talked.

“Somewhere around here,” he said with a shrug.

“And the light? The sound?”

“Don’t know.”

Yaling rolled her eyes and then stepped up to where the two men were unconscious on the ground. She had used her mahee too much with the whistle, making them pass out.

“That cart, was it by any chance…?”

“Oh yes. Definitely Matias,” Yaling answered when D’Argen trailed off. “It was… it truly was gaudy. That woman was not exaggerating.”

“And Abbot? Has his luck run out yet?”

“Probably. He should have taken more when we were back at Evadia.”

D’Argen groaned and crouched by the man that had swung at him with the axe. He was a huge bear of a thing and though D’Argen was strong, he was not strong enough to not be petty. Instead of picking the man up, he flipped him over onto his back and grabbed him by the legs to start dragging him about the forest. Yaling did not resort to the same pettiness and instead used the whistle to direct her mahee and the sounds of the forest into levitating the other man.

Although Yaling could do it without the whistle, D’Argen was glad she was using it because it helped her be more precise and D’Argen could still hear the faded forest sounds and the drag of the body behind him without even a peep from Yaling’s whistle.

They came to Abbot shortly, crouched near the blinded man that D’Argen had seen earlier.

“What did this?” Abbot asked, his tone wary.

The blinded man whimpered and flinched away from where Abbot was applying a salve to his face.

“Not sure, didn’t see,” D’Argen replied. “The other one ran away.”

Abbot only hummed in response and finished applying the medicine. Only then did he look up to see both of the men that D’Argen and Yaling had been carrying were sprawled uncomfortably on the ground. Abbot rolled his eyes at them and stood up. He helped the mortal stand as well and then said, “hold onto this, I will lead you out.” He gave the man the edge of his cape and slowly guided him closer to D’Argen and Yaling.

“We cannot possibly drag them all out of the forest like that,” Abbot said, pointing at the two unconscious men.

Yaling groaned but she nodded in agreement. She put the metal whistle away in the folds of her belt and then reached for the strings hanging from her headscarf. On one of them was a much smaller wooden whistle that she popped between her lips like a grape. When she let it direct the sound this time, both Abbot and D’Argen heard it and winced. It immediately awoke both of the men on the ground, startling them into sitting up.

D’Argen had collapsed his bow earlier so he rested a hand on the hilt of his sword instead and drew it out barely a finger.

“You don’t stand a chance. Just follow us and we’ll see to it that your friends make it out without any lasting damages,” he said loudly, trying to keep his voice stern.

The two men looked at one another and must have come to the same conclusion because they nodded when they turned to face D’Argen again.

“Up,” D’Argen ordered loudly, aware that their ears were probably still ringing from Yaling’s attack and subsequent wake-up call.

They followed the order obediently and when Yaling started walking away, Abbot followed right behind her and the three mortals behind him. D’Argen was at the back, his eyes focused on the two men who could still see. He kept his arm crossed over his stomach to hold the hilt of his sword, ready to draw it at any moment. They collected the mortals’ last companion, though Abbot had to carry that one as D’Argen had definitely dislocated his knees during their encounter.

By the time they all made it out of the forest, D’Argen was itching to hit one of the men over the head. The two in front of him were whispering in another language, as if D’Argen could not understand it, and plotting on how to get free as soon as they were back at the cart.

Since D’Argen had not seen the cart itself, it took him completely by surprise when he finally came to it, parked on the side of the wide road with not a single bush or tree in sight. For the first time since he could remember, he was glad that he was colourblind. The mixtures of shades, patterns, and textures were enough to make his eyes water. He could not imagine what it would look like in its full glory and he did not want to.

Lilian was sitting on the bench in front beside the bearded man that D’Argen had encountered twice already. The two were talking amicably. By one of the cart wheels were three mortals dressed in the same travel garb as the mortals D’Argen and his friends had taken out of the forest. They were sitting back-to-back with their hands tied in their laps and at least three lengths of rope over their chests.

D’Argen raised an eyebrow at Lilian in question and they just shrugged.

“You,” the bearded man said for the third time as he addressed D’Argen. “I, um, I’m sorry and thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” D’Argen responded then turned to the mortals in front of him to ask, “Is this all of you?”

“Yea, yea,” the axe man replied quickly.

“Uh huh… and where are your horses?”

“No horses.”

“We rode in on katcha,” one of the men Lilian had tied up responded. “They are free in the woods now.”

D’Argen narrowed his eyes at him and said, “call them back.”

The man lifted his bound hands as if to show that he was unable to. D’Argen waited him out in silence. After a moment, the man sighed, brought two fingers up to his lips, and blew out a loud whistle.

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“You, we need to talk,” D’Argen pointed at the bearded man. “Are you Matias?”

“You’ve heard of me? I am honoured, milord,” Matias said with a grin and bowed low, even though it only looked like he was hunching over his lap as he had yet to stand from the cart seat. “I am so sorry for what you witnessed. I was caught completely off guard and—”

“Yes, yes,” D’Argen interrupted with a wave of his hand. “How did you fight them off?”

Abbot and Yaling had been working on tying the rest of the men up together how Lilian had them, but they stopped to listen as well.

“Ah! An old invention, nothing too special. Actually, it’s mostly used for the kids and—”

“Show me.”

Matias’ smile dropped and he nodded quickly. He jumped off the cart, circled to the back, and opened the wooden door with a key from around his neck. The back of the cart was tall enough for Matais to stand without hunching but it was also filled to the brim. There were rolls of silk beside already folded garments of wool and cotton, two crates filled with straw and tiny glass jars inside them, and one entire wall was filled with more of the same tubular things that Matias had used to threaten D’Argen and the bandits.

“This is it, this is it, here,” Matias said excitedly as he pointed to the wall. “It’s my own invention. I call them ‘white fire flowers’, though not all are actually flowers. I also have birds, demons, and a few—”

“Demons?” D’Argen interrupted with a growl, his hand tightening on the hilt of his sword.

“Ah, no, no. No demons. Just the name. It draws attention and makes it easier to sell.”

“Sell where? What is it?”

Matias made a show of stepping to the edge of the cart and peeking out. He squinted at the sky even though it was still pink with the morning light, and the smiled wide at D’Argen. “Give me till the sun falls and I will show you. It’s no good during the day.”

“D’Argen,” Lilian called his name.

D’Argen narrowed his eyes at Matias but decided to leave the man alone and circled the cart to where Lilian was still sitting in the driver’s seat.

“He is harmless, truly. The bandits were at fault.”

A quick glance at the group of mortals, all sitting tied up with rope strung between them, revealed that they were all conscious and scowling, glaring up at them and spitting angry curses under their breaths.

“What is the closest big city with a jail?” Yaling asked just as one of the men called her a whore.

“Kaariai,” D’Argen responded immediately. Jiya was much closer with a much easier terrain to travel, but D’Argen was still feeling petty for being attacked without reason. “Master Upates would not be happy about it, but…” he trailed off when he saw most of the men blanch in fear. Good. Upates did not work for centuries to make his city so inhospitable to not have any results. D’Argen was curious how the stories had changed over time to make them even worse.

“Good, we can take Matias there too,” Lilian said with a wide grin.

Matias popped out the front window of the cart, startling both Lilian and D’Argen into reaching for their weapons.

“What? But I have done nothing to—”

“Master Upates will be most impressed with your ‘white fire flowers’. I guarantee it.” Lilian smiled wide at him once they let go of the string of their fan.

“My white—oh!” Matias suddenly brightened up at the praise, all fear leaving him. He hid back inside the cart and then yelled out, “I know exactly which ones to show him. But I will show you all the best ones tonight. You will not be disappointed, I guarantee it!”

D’Argen still had no idea what the man was talking about, but he was glad that he agreed. With the cart and the bandits, it would take them less than a week to get there, but that was enough time to get the stories out of Matias about the demons and, hopefully, convince the man to stop telling them altogether.

The sound of a roar from the forest made D’Argen turn around just in time to watch as five large katchas jumped out of the trees. The wild cats were huge with dark stripes on their pale bodies and large manes. All five of them were wary as they approached the cart where the bandits had called them over.

One of the men narrowed his eyes at the cats and then pursed his lips, whistling out a complicated tune. The sound never reached the cats as Yaling’s citrus scent filled the area quickly and she muffled it completely. The woman took out her metal whistle and flipped it between her fingers with a pointed eyebrow raised at the men who glared at her.

D’Argen looked at Lilian, sitting comfortably and making no motion to move at all, then at Abbot, smearing salve on the burns of yet another man. He sighed and finally released the hilt of his sword.

The cats hunched over and growled when he approached them, but they did not run away or attack. He raised both hands in the air to show himself as unarmed and then lifted his chin, bearing his throat and belly to the beasts. The largest of the cats approached him slowly, sniffing first at his raised hand and then at his belly. When the cat’s snout lifted to his neck, D’Argen tensed on reflex. The cat growled out in response but still did not bite him.

“What is the command to kneel?” D’Argen asked once the cat approved of him enough to drop its hackles.

The man said something but the sound did not reach D’Argen. Yaling did not bother repeating it so it must not have been right. D’Argen tried the most basic commands he knew, motioning down with his hands, lowering himself to his knees on the ground, letting out two sharp whistles, and then… then one of the cats dropped to sit right beside him.

He let out a sigh of relief and reached slowly for its muzzle. It sniffed him and then let him touch the back of its head. He dug his fingers into the thick fur, scratching away to comfort it with one hand while the other went to the clasps of its harness. It was easy to undo with one hand though it still startled the cat when the leather saddle slid off and hit the ground. It jumped up with fangs bared and then it shot off, running back into the trees.

D’Argen looked at the largest cat pointedly, hoping the animal was smart enough to understand what just happened.

The lead katcha let out a mighty roar, startling D’Argen into sitting down and reaching for his daggers. The rest of the streak circled him and though D’Argen wanted to draw a sharp blade, he held back the instinct as multiple heads started nudging at him and paws with hidden claws tapped at him.

A quick glance back at the group revealed Yaling with the metal whistle between her lips and Lilian standing in their seat, hands open and ready to direct the wind in a blast to protect him. Abbot was not even looking at him, believing in him far too much as he smoked at his pipe.

A heavy head nudged at his shoulder and D’Argen turned to look at the katcha right beside him. One by one, he undid the harnesses on each of the cats until he was left only with the streak leader. Her tail flicked back and forth in agitation, the tuft of fur there distracting him from the long fangs peeking out of her mouth. He reached with slow hands and undid her harness last.

The katcha shook her entire body once free of the saddle and then let out a mighty roar right in his face. D’Argen felt the wind increase at his back but it was not an attack. The katcha stretched out its neck, revealing it to D’Argen the same way all Never Born did in respect, then turned away and fled after the others, disappearing into the forest.

D’Argen turned to glare at the group of bandits, all of them staring at him with wide eyes and jaws open.

Oh, they would love Kaariai.

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