Two Renegade Realms (Realm Walkers Book 2) (16 page)

“Hardly a coincidence. The realm walker with them had
been monitoring the ward-protected portal. He knew it had opened as soon as you took the book off the shelf.”

“Do you think they have Cho?” Neekoh’s hands came together in a loud clap, and he proceeded to wring them until Cantor thought he’d pull his fingers off.

“No, I don’t.” Dukmee peered at Neekoh through slitted eyelids. “You swing to extremes, young man. Stick to the happy side of your pendulum. Optimism carries people much farther than pessimism. The worst thing that could happen rarely does.”

Dukmee’s gaze took in all of their party. “It seems Errd Tos expects to find information about the vehicles that transport the Lymen warriors.”

Bixby stirred beside Cantor. “We already knew that, but did they truly find anything?”

“What they found was a lot of material about Chomountain.”

“I have books I pilfered from one of the rooms.” Cantor patted his tunic where a hamper held what he’d gathered. “They looked to be about Cho. I didn’t take time to read the titles closely.”

Bixby bounced. Her light clothing glittered in the sunshine. “The room I looked into must have had works of art. I could see by the clean spots in the dust where statues had been. There were also places on the wall where pictures must have hung. I collected the pencils, quills, ink, and paper left behind. I thought Cantor could give us an idea of what these writing utensils had been used for.”

Cantor nodded to her. Yes, that would be useful, but the practice of his talent still gave him the willies. He likened it to dead people whispering in his ear, or some ghost moving
his hand. It wasn’t that, Dukmee had assured him, but it did feel odd.

A loud cracking noise interrupted them.

They first looked at each other as if one of them would have an explanation. Cantor saw their puzzled expressions and focused his mind on hearing anything that would explain the explosive sound.

“There’s a commotion going on at the portal. People hurt, and the cracking noise was the portal shutting unexpectedly.”

Bixby stood with her head at a tilt, her face pensive as she listened. “The realm walker is on the other side.” She gasped. “He wasn’t the one holding it open. The council has a machine that serves the purpose of a realm walker. A machine!”

Disgust pulled at Dukmee’s face. “Yes, a mechanical device, something they’ve made instead of using the course of action given us by Primen. As you would expect, it hasn’t proven to be reliable. That’s why they had a realm walker with them. But he was unschooled and of no use when the portal started collapsing.”

“Shouldn’t we go help those who are injured?” She looked to Dukmee.

Cantor’s jaw clenched. Of course, Dukmee was the oldest and the most experienced, but no one had assigned him as the person to be in charge. It grated, after two years of being the one making the decisions. He consulted Bridger, true, but the ultimate choice was his.

He chastised himself. Arrogance helped no one, and if he had to step aside in order to work well with Dukmee and Bixby, then that’s what he had to do.

Dukmee didn’t answer Bixby’s question but stood collecting information. Cantor watched his thoughtful expression
and knew exactly when the mage had left his mental assessment of the situation at the portal. With eyes bright, Dukmee addressed his friends.

“The injuries are minor. One of the laborers seems to have enough training to patch the scrapes. The councilman believes the portal will reopen in a matter of minutes.” Dukmee chuckled. “He’s distraught, and I don’t think our aid would be anything but more disruption. And I do think it’s prudent to keep our presence a secret.”

“I want to see them,” said Neekoh. “Can I sneak close and watch them for a while?”

Cantor gave the hamper holding the books to Dukmee. “I’ll take Neekoh while you look at these. I hope there’s something useful in there.”

He smiled and gestured with his head to the ward guardian. “Come on.”

“We’ll be here when you get back.” Bixby’s wave was cut off by her eagerness to see the contents of the hamper. She and Dukmee sat on the ground with Cantor’s unpretentious sack between them.

Cantor took one last look, then hiked up the hill toward the ruins. “Stay close. I’m taking you to a rise in the land on the far side. We should be able to look straight at the portal area from there.”

Neekoh followed. His stealth impressed Cantor. When they reached the place where they could slither under some bushes and peer over the crest, Neekoh kept taking big breaths and holding them.

“Trying to settle your nerves?” Cantor whispered.

Neekoh nodded but said nothing.

“Look.” Cantor pointed. “The portal is just now opening.”

The area in front of the waiting men shimmered like heat waves on a desert. A dark color separated from the undulating center and looked like it solidified in a frame around the portal. The hue and formation didn’t look right to Cantor. He counted himself as an experienced realm walker, but his skin crawled at the sight.

Cantor could tell that Neekoh had never seen such a thing. “That doorjamb is not really there,” he explained. “You could pass your hand through it.”

The realm walker stepped through. Cantor took a good look, first trying to recognize him and then etching the man on his memory. He wanted to know who this man was. If he ran into him again, he’d be wary of any connection.

The councilman shoved in front of the laborers and spoke to the realm walker, his hands moving in rough, angry gestures. After a moment of apparent bickering, the subordinate bowed and led the councilman through the opening. The realm walker came back, and with the guards herding the laborers, they all filed through the portal.

“I’d like to go through that.”

Cantor chortled. “How did I know you would say that?”

“What’s on the other side?”

“Excellent question. It’s important to find out what’s on the other side
before
you charge through. In this case, I think I recognized a farmhouse a few miles outside of Gilead on Dairine.”

The portal slipped shut with a faint shooshing.

Neekoh backed out from under the bush and stood up. “Let’s go look at the ruins.”

Cantor objected. “Dukmee and Bixby are waiting for us.”

“They’re looking at those books. They won’t mind if we
take a quick walk through the abandoned buildings. Maybe we’ll see something else to take back and examine.”

The idea appealed to Cantor. Spotting likely items was easier when you weren’t watching for guards.

“All right. But a quick look — the emphasis on quick.”

Neekoh plunged down the hill, his shoes slipping on loose stones. Somehow he managed to get to the bottom without tearing his clothes or his skin. Cantor followed at a slower pace, eyeing the area. It would only take one straggler or one man left on watch to ruin their effort to be unseen.

“I think this was a city,” said Neekoh as the two men passed in and out of one of the decrepit buildings.

“I’m guessing a university or some center of learning.” Cantor pointed to the big structures in various states of decay. “There don’t seem to be any dwellings for common folk.”

“They’d have to have some kind of servants. Smart people don’t have time to cook and wash and tidy up.”

Cantor laughed out loud. “You’re right, Neekoh. They aren’t always very savvy at taking care of themselves. But in the biggest buildings, the stairways probably lead to servant quarters beneath the ground.”

“I’ll go see.” Neekoh ran down some steps, then did an about-face and raced up. “Do you have a light orb? It’s very dark down there.”

Cantor obliged, and Neekoh returned to his quest. Cantor took out a light for himself and followed slowly, looking at carvings on the wall.

“Help!”

Neekoh’s cry transformed Cantor from a casual observer to a warrior. He pulled his sword and charged down the rest of the steps. At the bottom, he stopped and surveyed the short
hall before him. It came to a T. A light glimmered from the right turn.

Cantor took the time to listen. He heard Neekoh sputtering, possibly from a hand over his mouth. He also heard labored breathing.

Mumbled words came from Neekoh. Cantor strained to interpret them.

“I can’t breathe. Take your grimy hand off my face.”

The one holding Neekoh muttered through uneven panting. “Hold still or I’ll stick this knife in your throat.”

“Don’t do that. That could kill me.”

“That’s the idea, rat.”

“You’re bleeding, aren’t you? I can smell it. And I think your blood is soaking the back of my shirt. It’s very uncomfortable.”

“You talk too much.”

“But I’m very good at stopping blood and cleaning wounds and making bandages and finding herbs to ease the pain.”

Cantor crept to the end of the hall, being careful not to be seen by the men around the corner. “If you’re injured, let us help you.”

“Why would you want to do that?”

Neekoh piped up. “They have these codes of honor and vows of integrity and other noble things. They have to help you, or their consciences will hound them.”

“They? How many?”

Cantor cleared his throat. “No need to say how many, Neekoh. Tell me, are you one of those who were here at the ruins today?”

“I am.”

Neekoh shuffled his feet. “Ow! I just needed to get my leg in a better position. Why didn’t you leave with the others?”

“They left me here to die. I was held responsible for some thieving the laborers did.”

“So they aren’t your friends anymore?”

“Friends?” The man scoffed. “They were never my friends, but I am now no longer in their employ.”

“Oh, well then, how do you do? My name is Neekoh. I was employed —”

“Neekoh! You don’t have to tell this man your business.” Cantor turned the corner and allowed the injured man to see him.

The guard swayed. His face gleamed with sweat. Blood stained his tattered uniform. The whites of his eyes barely showed under heavy eyelids. His injuries must be many and deadly.

Cantor took a step forward. “I think we can help you. Let Neekoh go, and we’ll take you back to our friends. One of our party is a healer.”

“Who?” asked Neekoh.

“Dukmee.”

“He is? I thought he was a mage and a scholar.”

“He’s also a healer.”

“Amazing. I’m so glad you came looking for — um, someone. I have not been bored for even an hour since you broke the —”

“Neekoh!” Cantor ground the name out between clenched teeth.

“I can’t say anything about that, either?”

“No.”

The man behind Neekoh groaned. As Neekoh stepped forward, the wounded man slipped to the floor.

“Well, that’s good,” said Neekoh. “Now we can help him without having to talk him into it.”

A PATIENT

C
antor communicated to Dukmee and Bixby, telling them about the wounded guard and asking them to bring the horses. He lifted the man and carried him up the stairs.

Neekoh trailed behind, chattering about the ruins, the visitors, and the guard. “That talking with your mind thing sure is convenient. Do you suppose you could teach me to do it?”

“I don’t think so.” Cantor laid his burden down in the shade of one of the less-worn walls. “I think you’re born with the ability, and then you learn to use it.” He crouched beside the guard and examined him.

Neekoh clasped his hands together. A frown etched his face in unfamiliar lines. “Is there something you need me to do to help?”

Cantor sat back on his heels. “He’s been beaten severely and sliced every which way. No method to their cruelty, just random infliction of pain.”

“Will he die?”

“His injuries are beyond my skill, but Dukmee and Bixby may be able to pull him through. And Trout had a cabinet stuffed with dry herbs.”

The guard groaned.

Cantor put his hand on the man’s shoulder and spoke. “Help is coming. Neekoh, prop him up some, and I’ll give him a drink.”

“Respectfully, sir, it would be easier if I gave him the drink while you held him up.”

Cantor nodded. “Good thinking.”

Neekoh’s chest puffed up with the casual praise.

Cantor noticed.
He’s been alone too long.
He wondered who had set up the strange tradition of one of the Neekoh family guarding the entrance to Bright Valley. It seemed a rather pointless task, since the wards kept intruders away, and apparently Chomountain wasn’t even in residence.

Cantor supported the guard’s head and shoulders easily. Rousing him so he could drink was another matter.

Neekoh touched the man’s arm and shook him gently. “Wake up!”

The guard’s head lolled from one side to the other, and he groaned.

“Splash some water on his face.”

Neekoh obliged, and this time, the man opened his eyes.

“Drink.” Cantor nodded to Neekoh, who held a flask that had been filled at Trout’s well. The old man had claimed the water had special qualities. It tasted like plain water to Cantor.

The guard eagerly downed the water with quite a bit of dribbling. He sputtered, and Neekoh pulled the flagon away from his lips.

“It’s good.” His words slurred.