Kaavl Conspiracy (44 page)

“You don’t want
food.
You want power over Rolban. Admit it! And you want to steal what is rightfully ours. People are dying for your greed.”

“You are a fool!” he snarled, grabbing her tunic and hauling her up on her tiptoes. “I hold your life in my hands.” He gave her a hard shake. “And still you dare to attack me?”

“I’m not afraid to speak the truth.” She struggled to ignore the panicked beating of her heart. “And you shouldn’t be afraid to hear it.”

Verdnt burst back in the room. “More Rolbanis have escaped!” He shot a vicious look at Methusal. “We need to eliminate our liabilities, and move quickly.”

“Kill me, you mean,” Methusal said. “How simple for you to slit the throat of a girl. But I should expect no less from a traitor…” her gaze swiveled to the Dehrien Chief, “…and a liar.” Why she felt so determined to antagonize them, she didn’t know. But she did want them both to feel as furious as she felt. And if she must die, then first she’d try her best to extract some answers.

“Tell me.” She drilled a gaze into Verdnt. “How did you do it, you clever man? How did you steal food and pelts and get them to Dehre? And let’s not forget Tarst.”

Verdnt glanced at Mentàll. The Dehrien Chief unexpectedly released Methusal, but that didn’t make her feel any safer. No expression flickered on Mentàll’s stony face.

Pride visibly swelled Verdnt’s chest. He couldn’t resist this opportunity to boast. Just as she had hoped. Maybe if she could keep these two sidetracked for a few more minutes, the Rolbanis could turn the tide of the war. Even better, maybe she could turn them against each other.

“It was simple,” Verdnt said. “I stole what I wanted, and dropped it into the ravine. My accomplice collected it on the plain.”

“Who?”

Verdnt’s lip curled with arrogance. “Ludst Lst.”

The Dehrien runner. “And what about the pots in Tarst? How did they get there?” Methusal pressed.

A contemptuous, nasty smile twisted Verdnt’s lips, but he said nothing.

“Why send the pots to Tarst?” she pushed. “To make us think they were guilty? To throw suspicion off of Dehre?”

“You’re not even close, Methusal. For a smart girl, you’re stupid when the facts are staring you right in the face.” His glance included Mentàll. “You all are.”

Mentàll blinked.

“What does that mean?” Methusal said.

“Rolban’s treasure is what matters, don’t you see, Methusal?”

“What treasure?”

“Why, the ore, of course, and the
Second Book of Kaavl
. Isn’t that right, Mentàll? Isn’t that your true reason for taking over Rolban—to find the second book, just like I want to do? And let’s not forget vengeance. I forgot your truest motivation.”

Methusal looked from one to the other, confused now. Vengeance? And what did he mean about the
Second Book of Kaavl
? She could read nothing on the Dehrien Chief’s cold face, but Verdnt looked prideful and self-satisfied. “I thought the Dehriens took the book during the Great War. Why would it be here?”

Verdnt sidled forward and yanked at her tablet necklace. The cord bit painfully into her throat. “The clue is here, of course.”

The pressure on her neck scared her, and made her feel vulnerable. She swallowed, and tried to sound cool. “Show me the clue.” She’d never seen anything but the “M” before.

“Here.” Verdnt twisted the necklace over and pointed to the scratches near the bottom edge on the back. The first few were indecipherable, but the last was a capital “R.” Two mountain peaks had been scratched above it. She’d noticed the scratches before, but had never thought much about them, because she’d thought one of her child ancestors had made them. But obviously Verdnt thought the “R” referred to Rolban. Did he think the mountains did, too? The Rolban Mountains technically had three peaks, not two. Few people realized this, though, since the most distant peak was a little lower than the others, and couldn’t be seen unless someone hiked up to the glaciers. She didn’t mention this fact to Verdnt.

“Let me see.” She tugged the tablet free of Verdnt’s clutches. “Why do you think these scratches point to the location of the book?”

“Mentàll told me the legend thirteen years ago, when I first arrived in Dehre. When we were both training for the Kaavl Games. Should I tell the tale, or will you?” He turned to the Dehrien.

Mentàll’s face remained expressionless. “Tell your tale. All of it.”

Verdnt smirked. “Legend says, Methusal, that your ancestor foolishly brought the book to the battle line during the Great War. That line was inside of Rolban’s borders. The Dehriens invaded the camp on the plateau, stole the book from Jotham Maahr, and took him prisoner. The Dehriens wanted to hide the book somewhere for safe-keeping, until they could recover it after the war. The book disappeared then.

“The Dehriens used Jotham as bait to lure the Rolbanis away from home. They killed him outside the coastal city of Quasr. Legend says he scratched the location of the book on his tablet necklace, which he wore until he died. The Dehriens took the necklace, but on their way out of Quasr they were captured by Rolbani forces. All were killed except for one, who carried the tale home to Dehre. The necklace was returned to the Maahr family. Now you wear it.”

Methusal couldn’t believe her ears. “I’ve never heard this story before. Why should I believe it?”

“It’s a Dehrien legend, Methusal. A tale told to children. Until I stole your necklace, I didn’t believe it, either.”

So
that
was why her necklace had been stolen. Also, her link to the
Second Book of Kaavl
was why Verdnt had used the necklace to frame her for Renn’s murder.

“Have you found the book?” Neither man spoke. “Well, have you?” she demanded. “It belongs to Rolban.”

Mentàll flicked her a freezing glance. “It belongs to the Kaavl Master.”

“You, I suppose. How convenient. But you’re a thief. Just like the Dehriens were murdering thieves back then!”

Mentàll turned his attention to Verdnt. “Where is the book?” His low words sounded deadly.

Verdnt shrugged. “Did I say I’d found it? And would I give it to you, if I had?”

The Dehrien Chief’s shoulders tensed. Methusal watched, fascinated, as the full force of his fury turned upon his partner in crime. He snarled, “You are a
traitor!
”

“Never.” Verdnt gave a sly laugh. “My loyalties have never wavered.”

In one swift movement, the Dehrien Chief grabbed Verdnt by the throat and shoved him hard against the wall. “Where do your loyalties lie?” he hissed.

Verdnt didn’t attempt to fight Mentàll. Instead, he seemed to wilt. “Myself, of course. Dehre is second.”

Mentàll stared at him for a long moment. “You are a liar
and
a traitor!” The harsh voice shook. “And you started this war without authorization. Why?” His grip tightened, and Verdnt’s face turned purple.

He gurgled, “The war had to start sometime.” He choked and gasped. “The Rolbanis were vulnerable. We had our best warriors here. It was better to start the takeover then, before their best kaavl players returned.”

Mentàll shoved him away, and Verdnt crumpled to the floor, clutching his neck. The Dehrien Chief’s cheekbones were etched red. It was the only visible evidence of his rage, except for the hatred and fury in the gaze with which he skewered Methusal. He came closer. “Give me that necklace.”

Methusal was scared to death. In this mood, he’d probably
rip it from her neck. Now wasn’t the time for bravado. She took it off.

He examined it briefly and shoved it into his pocket. He turned to Verdnt. “We have a war to win. Can I trust a traitor to fight beside me?”

Verdnt stumbled to his feet and bowed his head obsequiously.
“I want Rolban defeated, too.” But Methusal saw the sly twist to his mouth.

Mentàll grabbed him by the tunic and propelled him to the door. “You first, then.”

Had they forgotten about her? And what did the rift between the two of them mean? It sounded as if Verdnt might have an agenda the Dehrien Chief knew nothing about.

“I’m not finished with
you
yet.” Mentàll snarled at her, and the door slammed shut. A bar lock scraped across the door outside and slid into the wall, anchoring it shut. She was alone in the sudden silence. Her heart thundered against her ribs. At least she was still alive.

She rushed to the door and futilely rattled the latch. She had to get out!

She looked through the hole just beneath the opening handle and twisted her head left and right, trying to see where the bar lock was located, although she suspected it was above the door handle. An unknown person swept by outside and sent a cool waft of air into her eye. She blinked and withdrew. Poking a finger out didn’t reveal any information either, and she sprang to her feet to inspect the door hinges. Maybe she could take them off.

A roar swelled from the dining room, and she examined the hinges, knowing the battle was intensifying. They needed her. If only she could pull these hinges apart…

“Mmm! MMmmmm!” The enraged growl came from behind her. Barak! Dismayed, she spun around. How had she forgotten about him? Quickly, she untied him and pulled off the gag.

“Rah..Blllb!” The large man violently shook his head, and spit out a small piece of leather.

“I’m so sorry, Barak,” she cried. “Verdnt fooled me into thinking you were the traitor!”

“Rmmmph!” The crop tender lumbered to his feet, fists clenched. A scowl darkened his face. “That traitor fooled a lot of people.”

He was at the immovable door in two strides. After inspecting it for a second, he stepped back a few paces. “I can’t…” he hurtled his body at the door. It shuddered mightily. “…wait…” A few quick steps and he retreated to the far back wall. Concentration pulled at every line of his heavy face. As he leaped toward the door, running full tilt, one word belted out with each stride.

“…to…get…my…hands…” A shuddering crash, and the door folded like a leaf under his mighty shoulder, and Barak erupted into the hall. “… on him!” he finished triumphantly. Wow! Methusal stared at the door, and then at Kitran’s brother.

“Can you take care of yourself?” he said roughly.

“Yes.” Apparently that was all the confirmation he needed, for he plunged down the passage, toward the shouts and screams in the dining hall. Pandemonium of some sort seemed to be going on there.

Alone again, Methusal wasn’t sure where to go next. The dining hall? Or maybe… But she didn’t have time to consider her options, because a commotion down the hall, from the direction of the supply room passage, sent her ducking back into the room.

When the footsteps unexpectedly paused, she peered out again and forced herself to relax into kaavl. She needed to focus now, more than ever.

Where had they stopped? If only she could
see
around the corner and into the next passageway. Her gaze fastened on a lamp facing directly down the supply room passage. If she was standing right there, she could see down…

Suddenly she saw Mentàll, Verdnt—who gripped Aali’s arm—Old Sims and five Dehriens standing just beyond the lopsided supply room door. The picture was as crystal clear and rich in detail as if she actually
saw
them this very minute. Even as she watched, Mentàll’s lips moved. Now, just to focus in and listen…

But the moment she realized what had just happened,
the image vanished. Had she actually
seen
down the passage?

Shaken, she slipped into kaavl again and listened.

“We caught these two throwing rocks on the plateau, Mentàll.”

“Let me go!” Aali shrilled. A scuffle reached Methusal’s ears. Verdnt cursed.

“Be quiet.” Mentàll’s voice sounded venomous. “An old man and the Chief’s little daughter. This could be fortunate.”

“Let’s kill the old man now,” Verdnt urged. “We don’t need him.”

“No!” Aali screamed. “I won’t let you! You can’t, I say! Let me
go!”

A harsh slap, but her young cousin cried out again, undaunted. “Let us go, you horrible bea…” Her shout was abruptly muffled.

“We need to make a plan,” Verdnt bit out.

“Be quiet!” snapped the Dehrien Chief. “Hold them still while I think.”

Methusal’s palms felt sticky with nervous perspiration. She
had
actually seen down that hall, and it was clear Aali and Old Sims were Dehrien prisoners. She had to do something! But what? Clearly she could not take on seven Dehriens by herself. And Aali and Old Sims wouldn’t be much help. She listened intently. If only she could hear their plan…

“…plateau?”

“Yes, but it’s tricky.” Verdnt’s voice.

“Get moving, then.” Footsteps whispered back down the passage.

They were going to climb up to the croplands. But why? Did they plan to kill Aali and Sims up there? That didn’t make sense.

Methusal gave up trying to figure
it out for the time being, because she realized that regardless of Mentàll’s plan, she needed help. And she knew just where to find it. She hoped.

Methusal ran
toward the dining hall, kaavl strips in her teeth, and rocks in her hands for protection. Pandemonium reigned in the dining hall, passage, Grand Staircase, and Great Hall. Rocks flew and knives flashed as men fought in hand to hand combat. Screams and hoarse shouts reverberated in the rocky halls. From the number of people up ahead, it looked like at least two dozen Rolbani men had escaped. She didn’t see any women or children, and guessed they were probably still captives in the dining hall.

She crouched low and ducked and twisted among the wrestling throngs of people, heading for her classroom. A flying knife grazed her arm, but she barely felt it. A lunging, slithering crawl between the legs of two fighters, and then she was through, rolling down the narrow passage on the other side of the dining hall.

She leaped into the dark sanctuary of the first classroom, hoping no Dehriens lay in wait for an unwary Rolbani. She
hoped, instead, to find friends. If not, she’d use Aali’s passage
so she could go help those on the plateau.

“Thusa!” A hoarse whisper caught her attention.

Cautiously, she tiptoed toward Aalicaa’s tunnel, located in the far corner of the room.

“Here.” Behran leaned over Deccia, who lay sprawled against the far wall. In the dim light, her face looked pale.

Horrified, Methusal dropped to her knees. “What happened?”

“She’ll be okay.” Behran’s gaze rested on her for a moment, reassuring her. “Her arm is sprained, and right now Timaeus is finding a sling. She also has a knife wound in her side. It’s not too deep. Timaeus already treated that.”

Methusal was glad that runners always carried healing coltac leaves with them, just like she did. “Are you sure you’re okay?” she anxiously asked her sister.

Deccia offered a wan smile. “I’m fine. But I’m glad Behran got me out of that fight. It’s wild, isn’t it?”

Just like Deccia, to turn the attention away from herself. Methusal turned as Timaeus ran into the room carrying thin strips of leather for Deccia’s sling. He was white around the lips, and his tense expression showed just how worried he was. Methusal and Behran scooted away so he could tend to Deccia.

“What’s going on at the other end of Rolban?” Behran asked, pulling Methusal up by the hand to stand beside him.

“Not as much as here.”

He interrupted. “You’re bleeding!” Dark blood smeared his palm.

“It’s nothing.” A glance decided this. “Only a little cut.” A quick dig through her pocket brought up squashed coltac leaves, which weren’t of much use. “I’ll deal with it later.”

But he gently held her arm up to the light spilling through the doorway before he would agree. “I guess we can’t do much now. Timaeus is out of coltac leaves, too. You say the other passages are pretty much cleared?”

Methusal quickly explained that Verdnt was the traitor and murderer. Deccia gasped.

“I
knew
Verdnt had done something wrong!” she said. “Before you went to Dehre, Verdnt said something strange. He said that he and Mentàll are friends. Present tense. Like they’re still good friends.

“I didn’t think anything of it. Verdnt had lived in Dehre for a long time, after all. But after he said that, he looked at me kind of oddly and said they
used
to be friends. Something felt off. I think he knew it. After that he wouldn’t let me out of his sight. Like he’d said something he didn’t want repeated.”

Verdnt’s many deceptions would have to be figured out later.

Quickly, Methusal told them about the situation on the plateau while Timaeus finished tying on Deccia’s sling.

“Aali!” Deccia’s face paled even further. Timaeus gently took her hand in his large, sun darkened one.

“But why would they go to the plateau?” Behran sounded
puzzled. “I’d think they’d want to use Aali and Sims as hostage
s to turn the battle in their favor. What good are hostages on the plateau? The battle is inside.”

“I think I know.” Finally, Methusal understood. “They want to reach the front gate. They’ll show their hostages in full dramatic glory there. But they don’t want to go through the fight in here to reach it. They’d be overwhelmed if they did.”

“I know there’s a path down from the plateau to the plains. It’s by the stream,” Timaeus said. “Is there another path, too?”

“One, but it’s pretty faint, and really steep,” Behran said. “Aali used it to climb to the plateau from her secret passage. Verdnt may know about it, too. Remember, he’s been spending a lot of time on the plateau, and he carried Liem’s body down to the plains. It just depends where the Dehriens want to come down. Aali’s trail comes out closer to Rolban’s main entrance. Verdnt could show them the way, if he knows it.”

The traitor! Methusal’s temper kindled. The
murderer.
The injustice of it all made her clench her fists. He was despicable. Rolban had accepted him as one of their own. Not only that, but they’d given him the honorable job of teacher, and let him run for Chief.

“We have to
do
something!” Deccia’s fearful eyes beseeche
d them all.

“Seven Dehriens to our four,” Behran said. “We can do it if we plan it right, and if you use your kaavl, Thusa.”

“But how?”

“Traps?” Timaeus suggested.

“Don’t forget, one of those seven is Mentàll,” Methusal reminded them. “He won’t be easy to fool. Plus, they all have weapons, and we have none.”

“They’re probably climbing down the cliff now.” Deccia sounded worried. “We’d better hurry up and think of a plan to rescue Aali and Sims.”

None of them spoke the other obvious thought: and save Rolban. The drama of the new hostage situation could distract the Rolbanis from the fight and give the Dehriens a chance to gain the upper hand again. That couldn’t be allowed, regardless of the hostages.

“Let’s go,” Methusal agreed.

“We need a plan, Thusa.” Behran put a restraining hand on her arm. “Let’s throw out ideas.”

“Pop them off one by one as they climb down the cliff,” Methusal suggested promptly. “Someone could throw rocks from Aali’s passage. There’s a great view at the top, and it’s protected.”

“Good. That might get a few Dehriens, if we hurry. What else?”

“We could hide and wait for them outside the entrance, among the rocks,” Deccia suggested. “Maybe throw stones at them first, and then attack them with knives, if we have any.”

“I have one,” Timaeus said.

“Who wants to throw rocks from Aali’s cave?” Behran asked. “We’ll need someone who’s a good shot.”

“I’ll go,” Timaeus spoke up.

“Right. Then after they’re down the cliff, follow and help
us out down below, if you can.” Behran pointed. “Aali’s passage
is behind a loose board in that closet, Timaeus.”

Timaeus peered into the dark hole, and looked a bit surprised to discover its existence. Before going in, he handed a short, wicked looking dagger to Behran. “I have two. Take this one.”

With a final hand squeeze for Deccia, he wriggled in and his feet quickly slid out of sight.

“When we hide outside,” Methusal said, “we’ll need to stay clear of the Dehriens’ line of vision while they climb down the mountain. I’ll be the scout.”

“Good.” Behran turned to Deccia. “Do you feel up to helping, or would you rather stay here?”

“I’m coming.” Resolve hardened her voice.

“Come on, then.”

The sisters followed Behran to the door. He poked his head out and looked left and right.

“It’s still a mess near the dining hall and down the stairs,” he reported. “We’ll have to make a run for it. Put up your arms to protect your heads.”

The three ran and forced their way into the fray, and were buffeted, almost falling, all the way down the stairs. The Great Hall was a scene of bedlam, too, and they dodged back and forth, speeding for the entrance.

“Over here.” Behran burst outside first. The brilliant, early morning sunlight washed his blond hair gold.

Methusal ducked into the cool shadow of a boulder just to the left of the great gates.

The three crouched and waited to see if anyone would follow them out. No one did. A faint breeze whispered across the cave entrance, swirling up leaves from the ground. Methusal drew a breath of relief.

Behran craned his neck back and looked up the mountain. “I don’t see them. Do you hear anything, Thusa?”

While she strained her ears, directing her focus for the mountain slope on the other side of the gates, Deccia quietly collected together a large pile of rocks and stray sticks.

“They’re about halfway down the other side,” Methusal reported finally, “but too many rocks are falling. I can’t tell if Timaeus has hit any Dehriens yet. I’m going to go hide over there and see what’s happening. I’ll signal back to you.”

“Okay.” The hesitancy in Behran’s voice made her glance up. His blue gaze caught hers and held it for a moment. “Be careful.”

“You, too.” She offered a cheeky grin. She didn’t want to
think about the possibility of going up against the Kaavl Master
, one on one. Methusal had escaped from him once, but only by the narrowest of margins. The man terrified her.

“Good luck, Thusa.” Deccia touched her arm. Her gaze looked calm, but determined. “We can do this.”

Taking a deep breath, Methusal dashed across Rolban’s entrance and ducked behind a boulder, which was overshadowed by a small ledge. She pressed her back against the rock, hoping Mentàll and the other Dehriens hadn’t seen her.

The strange visual carry she’d experienced in the hall flew to mind. Could she repeat it here? Then she wouldn’t have to poke her head out to see up the mountain.

Concentrating hard, she stared straight ahead at a small rock, which was perched on top of a boulder. If she could just
carry visually from that point, she could see right up the cliff…

Nothing happened. She was trying too hard. She needed to
relax
. In that instant, she knew where Kitran and Mentàll, in all of their strivings for the Ultimate level, had gone wrong. The secret to kaavl wasn’t in manipulating emotions or states of consciousness. It was practice, yes, but even more than that, it was relaxation—lettin

g kaavl flow without restriction through her entire being.

This unexpected insight made her giddy. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. Was this what Mahre, the Old Kaavl Master, had learned? Methusal felt like she was on the brink of an incredible discovery, but the scrabble of feet overhead snapped her attention back to the present.

The Dehriens were close. She had to risk it. Carefully, she craned her neck so she could see just past the ledge overhead. There. Even as she looked, a huge rock hit Ludst Lst’s head. He was the messenger who had so cruelly won the Quatr-level in Dehre. He gave a startled cry and fell, tumbling fatally down the steepest, rockiest portion of the cliff.

Now five Dehriens remained, and Aali and Old Sims.

Movement to the left caught her eye. Belatedly remembering her duty, she signaled the information to the others.
Behran darted over, but hid closer to the entrance. Now they
just needed to wait. She quickly stockpiled stones and stout sticks for weapons. As she listened and waited, she formulated a plan.

Closer…closer. Now! She pulled a kaavl strip from her pocket. They would walk right in front of her. If she could capture the last man without any of the others noticing…

She peered out, glad that she was almost completely concealed on all sides by large boulders. There was just enough room to drag a man into her small space.

Mentàll, Aali, Verdnt, Old Sims, and a Dehrien passed, and she tensed, ready. Another…and her string flicked out, expertly snapping around the last Dehrien’s leg. He fell with a startled “OOoomph!”

She shoved a rock into his mouth and whipped the line around his legs. One, two, three passes. Now for his hands… But as she fumbled for another line, a slight snap sounded behind her and an arm clamped around her neck, jerking her violently up on her tiptoes.

Choking, she grabbed at the steely arm. “Le…”

“Thought you could fool me, Methusal?” The Dehrien Chief’s voice was soft in her ear, and he wrenched her closer. “You can’t hide from me.”

He yanked her between two rocks and out onto the plain. Her toes barely wisped over the ground, “I might not kill you after all. You are much too entertaining. Now, come on!” This jerk was vicious. “You’ll help win me Rolban, fair Methusal.”

Unaware of anything, except for Mentàll’s ore-like arm about her neck, she clawed at his sleeve, straining for a small gulp of life giving air. They had almost reached the gates
now, and the world was going gray. Methusal had a brief impression of the Dehriens and hostages watching. Desperately, with all of her strength, she wrenched at his arm.

Finally, a cool draft of air slid down her throat, easing her searing lungs and giving a spark of coherency to her slowed thoughts. Behran and Deccia needed help!

Tears filled her eyes, and she fought desperately, fighting like a wild thing. She had underestimated Mentàll. But he couldn’t win this easily—she wouldn’t let him.

The Dehrien Chief easily subdued her frenzied thrashings by tightening the arm around her neck and clamping a hand on both of her wrists. She gasped. The world swirled, slowly going black. Mentàll shouted something…warnings, maybe, to the Rolbani people, as he carried her inside.

Suddenly everything went very quiet, and Mentàll’s grip loosened, allowing her feet to touch the ground. Greedily, she gulped in great breaths of sweet air. It took a few seconds to take in what was going on around her.

Mentàll was speaking. “As I have told Petr and Erl, Tarst has signed a treaty with Dehre. It gives me complete legal control over Rolban for three weeks. You are illegally fighting and killing my men, who arrived here for peaceful purposes. I am willing to produce the document and discuss the matter with your elders.”