CHAPTER SIX

Janco’s ear pulsed with pain. It felt as if it had been jabbed by a red hot poker, but instead it had been caused by his instinct, warning him to danger. The one and only time he had failed to follow his gut instinct had resulted in losing the lower half of his right ear. At least, he hadn’t lost his head, which his opponent had been trying hard to do.

The whole situation with the Sandseed reeked big time, but he couldn’t figure a way around it. So Janco shook off his unease and shouldered his pack. He scouted through the Snake Forest, searching for signs of Rye’s trail. His partner, Ari stayed behind with Stripey the Sandseed. The magician claimed he knew where Rye was headed, but Janco didn’t trust him despite his proof that Yelena sent him. Plus Ari thought it best Stripey didn’t use his magic while in Ixia.

A magician in Ixia! Valek would be pissed. Then again, he would be more upset if he learned Janco and Ari hadn’t tried to stop this magical scimitar. The weapon even had a name—Pemba. Who names their swords and gives them magic anyway? Crazy Sitians. The Sandseed had a name, too, but Janco preferred to call him Stripey. If the man was going to wear a loud blue and gold stripped robe, he was fair game.

Janco grumbled to himself as he connected the line of bent leaves and footprints. The lush greenery made it easy to discern the signs, but the thick forest could hide predators and ambushes.

He inhaled a lungful of moist earth and freshness. It was half way through the warming season, and newness shone on the bright leaves. This time of the year reminded Janco of his childhood days, avoiding chores and discipline to stalk in the woods. He had learned how to move through the forest without making a sound, and had enjoyed pouncing on the unsuspecting. Which, hopefully, he’d be able to do today with that cocky greenie.

After he was satisfied of Rye’s direction, he loped back to find Ari. He spotted the Sandseed without problem. They would need to find him better clothes.

“Report,” Ari said.

“The greenie’s running home to Mama. East,” Janco added for the Sandseed’s benefit.

“How far?” Ari asked.

“Half a day, thanks to Stripey Boy’s little ambush.”

Ari shot him a warning look, but Janco ignored him.

“Let’s go. Double time.” Ari hefted his pack.

“Double time?” Stripey asked.

Janco grinned. “I hope you’re in shape.”

They jogged through the forest with Janco in the lead. Ari’s steps drummed lightly behind him as they

ducked and dodged through the low hanging branches. The Sandseed’s passage sounded like a herd of stampeding cattle.

Well into the evening hours, they stopped for a brief rest. Cuts and scratches laced the Sandseed’s face, and small rips marked his robe, but otherwise he seemed no worse for wear.

By daybreak they had gained significant ground. Unfortunately they were too late to help a small group of border guards, who were on patrol and had encountered Rye.

“Report,” Ari ordered the four men. They nursed various gashes and ugly slices left by Pemba.

“We stopped a Lieutenant for a routine check and to hear any news from the castle, sir,” one of the men said. He pressed a bloody handkerchief to his forearm. “He wasn’t one of ours, and he didn’t have any transfer papers on him.” The man stared at the Sandseed.

Janco leaned close and said, “He’s my grandfather. He dressed himself this morning and we don’t want to hurt his feelings.”

Now the soldier gaped at him. Fun.

“Janco,” Ari warned. “Continue.”

“We followed regulations and tried to take him into custody for further questioning, when—”

“He pulled a wickedly sharp blade and disarmed you all.” Janco flourished his arm as if striking with an invisible sword.

The man nodded.

“How long ago?” Ari asked.

“Two hours.”

Ari nodded as if he already knew. “Direction?”

“East.” Janco pointed to the spot where Rye had pushed through the underbrush, breaking a sapling’s branch.

“How do you know our quarry caused the damage and not these soldiers?” Stripey asked him.

Janco paused. Interpreting trail signs and reading clues from his surroundings was second nature to him. In his mind’s eye, Janco saw a vision of Rye still gripping the bloody scimitar as he navigated the tight trail. It took him a moment to translate what triggered the vision into physical details.

“The damage to the brush is limited to three feet, suggesting one man’s passage. And the break-off of the branch has a point on this side, meaning he went east,” he explained.

“If he heads northeast, there’s a small town along the edge of the forest, sir,” the soldier said.

Ari ordered the men to return to their station for medical treatment. Janco once again led the way, following Rye’s trail, which turned to the northeast.

“Pemba has fed on the blood of those soldiers, and her strength has grown,” the Sandseed said. “We must hurry.”

“What do you think we’re doing? Going for a stroll?” Janco snapped.

Ari didn’t say a word, but Janco sensed his partner’s displeasure. He increased his pace, and soon they arrived at the edge of the town. Before stepping from the forest, Ari pulled him back.

“Let’s not be too hasty,” Ari said, consulting a paper. “Rye probably knows we’re after him.”

“Pemba will alert him to intruders, and to any magic use,” the Sandseed said.

Janco considered. Ambushes and magical illusions wouldn’t work, but more mundane tactics might. “We have darts and sleeping juice. How close is too close?”

“You have a plan?” Ari asked in surprise.

He bristled at the insult. “Who saw through Stripey’s illusion? Me. Who thought of using Curare—”

“Of course,” Stripey said. “I had forgotten. We can use Curare to paralyze Rye and sever any magical connection with Pemba.” He smiled, flashing white teeth.

Janco exchanged a look with Ari. Should they fess up? Ari nodded.

“About that Curare stuff,” he said. “We…ah…lied. We don’t have any. Would sleeping potion work?”

Stripey’s smile died. “It depends on how strong Pemba is. If she has complete control of Rye, nothing but Curare will work.”

“Magic sucks,” he said.

Stripey stilled as he gazed at Janco. “The benefits far outweigh the abuses,” he said. “You, for example, could benefit from a session with me.”

“Hold on there, Stripey Boy. Don’t you try any of that story-weaving mumbo jumbo on me. I’m perfect just the way I am.”

A strangled cry emanated from Ari. He covered it by clearing his throat. “Let’s focus on the problem at hand. The house Rye grew up in is on the southeast side of town.” Ari peered at the paper in his hand. “We need to confirm he’s there first.”

“He’ll recognize us right away,” Janco said. “Unless we recruit one of the town’s guard?”

“Good idea. Once we know where he is, we can entice him out, but how?” Ari rubbed a large hand on his head as if he could force a plan to form.

Janco tried to put himself in Rye’s place. It wasn’t difficult to do. “He’s a young hot shot. We just need some loud mouth braggart at the local pub to claim he’s the best swordsman in town. Word spreads like fleas in tiny communities. Eventually Rye’ll get bit. He’ll show up, wanting to prove the big mouth wrong with his magic scimitar.”

“Pubs are busy places, lots of people so Pemba’s magic won’t pick us up,” Ari said. “We can disguise Bour to blend in better.”

Bour? It took a moment for Janco to realize Ari referred to Stripey.

“Once you shoot him with the sleeping potion, I can use my magic to help,” Stripey added.

“Only use magic if we give you permission,” Janco said.

“One problem to our plan,” Ari said. “There will be other challengers before Rye shows, and the loud mouth must be able to prove himself.” He gazed at Janco. “I doubt a local guard will have the skills to thwart all opponents, and I have better aim with the dart gun.”

Janco groaned. He had walked right into this one.

His partner cocked his head, studying Janco with a thoughtful expression. “I think you’ll look good as a blond.”