Kass was beyond irritated. First the blue-edged white tie on his door to let him know that he needed to report back to Laravi and then the three days spent trying to settle the local magistrate and his mother. A short chat with Finala, the magistrate’s daughter, had convinced her to withdraw the accusations she’d lodged. It had taken two days for Kass’s mother to calm down enough to remember her normal routine and return to her daily life. Grubar, the innkeeper and a long-time friend of the family, had promised to keep an eye on Alrisa. Sokan was damned lucky that Kass had been there to straighten things out. Otherwise, the newly-fledged bard would have returned home to the headsman. His brother had left a real mess behind him but then, that’s just how Sokan was. He couldn’t help it. Not with…
“No,” Kass grunted to himself, his voice harsh and gravely. “He’s my brother.”
Finding out that Sokan had returned briefly only to set out again, his sights on the Patogan border, had put Kass’s temper on a slow boil. Sokan could fend for himself in the forests — Kass had made certain of that before the boy hit adolescence. But walking through a warzone unscathed? There was no way in the winds that Sokan could pull that off, no matter what color cloak he wore. Alrisa had remembered just enough to worry and to beg Kass to look after his little brother. Kass never had been able to refuse his mother when she pleaded with him. And, no matter what, he couldn’t blame Sokan too much. His father’s death was not Sokan’s fault. After all, the boy had not even been a quickening in their mother’s womb when her husband died. Sokan growing inside of her was all that let Alrisa hold on to sanity. But, her strength had given out before the boy was able to walk and Kass wound up taking care of both of them. It had been a hard way to become a man, especially given that there were just under a dozen years between them. Luckily for them all, Kass had already become an avid and adept hunter and woodsman. His hunting and trapping was how he kept them fed, paid the taxes on the home, and kept them clothed until Alrisa regained enough of her wits to be able to work a turn in the tavern under Grubar’s watch. Kass still gave most of his income to Grubar in order to be certain that his mother was fed, the house stayed with her, and that she had such things as were needful. However, once Sokan was old enough to tend to himself, Kass had moved out and into the forest. A few years later, old Jev had wandered into town and Kass watched as Sokan began to learn the talents of the traveling minstrels.
At least it was a profession of some kind that would take Sokan away. Maybe without him there, Alrisa’s mind would begin to heal. Kass felt guilty for thinking such things. He loved his brother. He really did. Sokan had an easy manner and a quick wit. True, his smart mouth had gotten the boy in trouble more than once and he was too pretty for his own good. But Sokan and Kassrylon were very different people for all the shared blood between them. A look in the mirror could tell them that. Aside from the blue eyes, they had nothing in common. Sokan was shorter, more slender, and possessed of a wiry strength and nimbleness that belied his size. He had very fair skin even if his hair was black as pitch. His facial features were softer, more refined, and wouldn’t look out of place among the gentry. Sokan was clever and quick-witted, able to memorize lengthy passages with little effort. He kept himself neat and clean and had little desire to live rough. Kass, on the other hand, towered over his younger brother. His skin was dark, deeply tanned from long years spent outdoors. He had a strong, square jawline, an aquiline nose, and thin lips. Where Sokan was clean shaven, Kass kept a neatly trimmed goatee. Kass’s dark earth-colored hair was longish and hung down over his forehead and in his eyes but it was nowhere near as long as Sokan’s. Kass had broad shoulders, muscular arms and legs, and a well-defined chest. His eyes seemed smaller than they were due to his habit of squinting and his heavy lids but his crystalline blue gaze could be sharp and piercing enough to pin anyone to the wall. Their temperaments were completely different as well. Kass prized his solitude; Sokan enjoyed being the center of attention. Sokan loved the sound of his own voice whereas Kass could go weeks without speaking a word. Sokan could set people at ease and gain their trust with little effort. He also trusted people easily. Kass made people nervous with the way he tended to stick to the shadows and the scent of the forest — soil and leaves — clung to him. He also trusted rarely and never forgave anyone who betrayed his trust.
“The damn boy can take care of himself,” Kass muttered to himself as he opened the door to his small home. He’d built it himself, selecting a spot well off the common paths, set against a hill, for it. Very few people outside the rangers knew where it was. Even his family had never seen it. The building had just a handful of rooms — a small kitchen with a table he’d built himself, a large library that he kept stocked with books, a workroom where he made his arrows and honed his daggers, and two bedrooms. Attached to the house was a separate structure, the bath house. Usually rangers who wandered into his area stayed in the second bedroom but, known only to a handful, Kass had let others stay there. Only children who had gotten lost in the forest, been kidnapped, or women who had been taken by force, to be sure. He was not running a boarding house out here in the middle of the deep forest. The children never bothered him even when they refused to sleep and pulled his books off the shelves and stacked them into elaborate towers, ate all of his food, scared off game when he went out hunting, and just upset his routine in general. Kass liked children. Occasionally, he liked women. When they were quiet and didn’t talk too much, make too much noise, complain too frequently, bother him constantly, whine when he didn’t pay attention to them, or just generally act as if they had no business being out in the forest and as if the Thunderer had put him there solely to wait on them hand and foot. Kass hadn’t met a woman who lived up to his expectations and he was beginning to think such a creature did not exist.
Kass pulled off his boots and set them in the mudbox by the door. He set his crossbow down next to them and began to strip out of his clothes. After spending three days back in Laravi and dealing with his mother, Kass was looking forward to taking a long, hot soak to relax. Stomaching Alrisa’s wandering thoughts, her constant nattering about Sokan, and her frequent confusion over who Kass was — he resembled his late father a great deal — all of those things had set Kass on edge. Before he decided whether or not to do as she had asked, he wanted to relax. He needed to relax. Part of what she wanted was just insane. There was no way in the winds that Kass was going to spend the rest of his life shadowing his brother to make certain Sokan was safe. He was allowed to have his own life at some point, wasn’t he? Hadn’t he sacrificed enough for Sokan already?
A noise from deeper inside the house pulled Kass out of his musings. He refastened his belt and grabbed his crossbow, making his way through his home towards the source of the sound.
“What in Thunder are you doing here?” he demanded angrily. “Did you get blood all over that bed?”
The ranger in the spare room, a man called Olisir, snorted and shook his head. “You sound like an old housewife, Kass. I’ll clean it up,” he promised. “I came here because it was closest and because I knew you had string and needles. Also, I came to warn you to watch out. The Patogan Royals are looking for you. I’m not sure why they want you but they’re asking for you by name. I saw your little brother get corralled by them. You might want to go and break him free before he finds himself in the pickling kettle.”
“How in the name of all the Covenant did someone manage to get a blade in you?” Kass muttered as he walked over to one of the chest of drawers and pulled out some cloth he kept on hand for bandages. “And what in the name of the fiery Blaze is Sokan doing in Patoga?”
“He’s a bard and you know they’ve called for Searchers. He’d be drawn to that like a moth to flame.”
“South wind of storms,” Kass groaned. “Before he left, I told the boy to stay out of Patoga. I told him that he wouldn’t find anything but trouble there and what does he do? Head there quick as he can and get caught up in the mire of politics.”
“Politics draws people like your brother in and spits them out worse for wear.”
“Don’t I know it,” Kass muttered as he squatted down and began tending to Olisir’s wounds. “I’ll have to go pull his ass out of the pickling kettle just as soon as I know that you’re not going to bleed to death in my guest room.”
“I’ll be fine, Kass,” Olisir laughed. “Go, rescue your brother.”
Kass grunted. He was planning to do just that.
The next day had Kass near the Patogan border. He kept back to the shadows, careful not to be seen. A small patrol of guards was camped out in the shallow part of the forest still in sight of the road. Undoubtedly they thought they would be safe there and no one would spot them. The ranger knew better but remained back. He had no desire to pick a fight with soldiers. Instead, he planned to shadow them and see if they knew of Sokan’s exact whereabouts. From there, he would be able to figure out a way to extricate his little brother from whatever knot of trouble he’d gotten himself twisted up in and see him safely back to Estalia. The ranger knew there was no way to keep a bard completely out of trouble but he planned to put the fear of the Thunderer into his brother and keep him from trying to make for the Temple of Ali’ama the minute Kass’s back was turned. With a stealth learned from many years living in the forests, Kass drew close to where the guards were camping and then opened his ears to their conversation.
“The princess is in a fine temper these days,” one of them was saying, “what with her sister run off to the gods alone know where. It’s no wonder she’s trying to hire out rangers from Estalia to track Lady Kelsa down.”
“The last time I spoke with her, Lady Kelsa had definite ideas about being tracked down and dragged back to the camp,” another of the guards laughed. “She even threatened to flee for Ridhan and marry the first bachelor she could trip into a green if that’s what it took.”
“Her father would have a fit at that. Kelsa was always his favorite. She’s the best of the lot of them if you ask me. She’d make an excellent Prime.”
“She doesn’t want to be Prime. She’s wanted nothing less than that ever since she was formally recognized as an heir to the Seat.”
“Well, she’s not got a lot of choice in the matter now. She’s the oldest living child Ximiron has and that makes her his heir apparent. Once we win this little dispute, of course,” the first guard laughed. “I’ll tell you, if we could recruit those Estalian rangers to our side, we’d have this matter sewn up inside a week. Less, even.”
“The rangers would gut us and use our entrails to make harps to sell to the bards!” one of the other guards roared with laughter. “Gods, they hate us.”
“Yeah, I know. I’ve never quite worked out exactly why they hate us, though. It wasn’t always this way.”
Maybe if your worthless Prime hadn’t come into our lands and taken our women to his bed whether they willed it or no, Kass thought silently, we wouldn’t hate you so much. But leave it to you to be confused as to why killing hundreds of civilians and raping dozens of women would not be reason enough to hate you and your bastard Prime. The conversation around the campfire suddenly fell silent and Kass cursed himself mentally. He must have made some noise to indicate he was there. The guards, though unaccustomed to the forests, weren’t stupid. They reached for their weapons and began looking around nervously. Silent as a shadow, Kass began to draw back deeper into the trees. Then another sound drew his attention. Spinning on his heel, Kass groaned when he saw one of the Royal Guards standing a dozen feet behind him. The man held a sword pointed towards Kass but seemed shocked to see one of the rangers in front of him.
“By the Thunderer,” he growled softly to himself. “Let me pass. I mean no harm to you or your comrades,” he said quietly and firmly to the guard.
“The princess sent for you,” the guard said tonelessly.
“I heard. Let me pass and I’ll be happy to report to the border station tomorrow morning.”
The guard started to lower his weapon. Kass heaved a sigh of relief. Then the guard dropped to the ground, limp as a boned fished. Kass blinked, wondering if he was hallucinating. A small, cloaked figure stepped out of the shadows behind the guard. “If you possess even half the wisdom of the rangers, you’ll go now and never return to Patoga,” the figure said. Kass stared at it. The voice was low-pitched and pleasant to the ears. A faint hint of musicality was evident. The speaker straightened and then bent at the knees as if preparing to leap up into the tree. Kass moved quickly and tackled the figure. He felt something ram into his side. His armor blocked it, turning a potentially fatal stab wound into a minor irritation. Kass grabbed his attacker’s wrist and pressed hard, pinching the nerve so that they were forced to drop the knife. Pressing down hard to keep them pinned beneath him, Kass used his other hand to tear away the cloak.
“You’re…” he trailed off in shock. The cloak hid a woman’s face. A woman’s angry face. Cobalt blue eyes glared at him from over an angry snarl. But it was the hair that marked her. In the few seconds that he held her pinned beneath him, her hair turned white then silver and finally green. “You’re…” With a twisting shove, the woman wormed her way out from under Kass. Before he could react, she grabbed a thick club and hit him over the head. When he dropped to the ground, unconscious, she winced and seemed to think better of it.
“I am,” she muttered. “But you can call me Blade. Now what in the name of the Thunderer am I going to do with you, Kassrylon Llhersian?”