The Turquoise Queen, Pedro Urvi [e book reader android txt] 📗

in the far-off southern lands. It’s unbearably hot and there’s barely any water anywhere. And what’s more, you’re a Creature of the Ice. The desert’s the last place you ought to go to.

I go. I see.

Maybe one day. For the moment we have other things to worry about, such as those poor peasants.

Yes. Help peasants.

I’m afraid those mercenaries are some of the ones Thoran hired for the war. They’re strong, and they’re good fighters with those scimitars and curved knives. Be careful, both of you.

I careful.

Ona gave a moan.

They’re about two hundred paces away. I can get them with my compound bow, but I’m worried about those peasants …

Release. Kill. End. Camu said, simplifying the situation as only he could.

It’s not going to be that easy. I can count five mercenaries. They could take the peasants as hostages if I attack, and there are women and children …

Lasgol thought about it. The situation was not a hopeful one for an attack. It never was when there were innocents involved. He was sure those mercenaries would have no qualms about killing the peasants. They would use them as human shields and threaten to kill them unless he came out into the open to shoot. He had to come up with a plan that would allow him to rescue the peasants without any casualties. He considered a couple of scenarios, but after analyzing them he realized they were too risky and the possibilities of success minimal.

Ona was staring at him inquisitively. The panther felt they were going into action, and she wanted to know what she had to do. So, did he. He snorted and went on thinking about options. The only advantage he had was that the mercenaries did not have bows, only scimitars and knives, and he had to make the most of that advantage. As he was thinking, he noticed the one who looked like the leader, judging by his gestures and his size and strength. Lasgol knew that under no circumstances must he get close to them. In close combat they would tear him to shreds. He was not even half as strong as them.

He could avoid interfering, trusting that the mercenaries would leave their prisoners alive. That was not the mission he had been given and which was awaiting him a little further northeast. Curiosity and ill fortune had led him into that situation. If he acted, things might go wrong, and innocents might end up wounded or dead. With five armed foreign soldiers, there were too many things that could go wrong. Maybe he ought to watch and not intervene. With a bit of luck, the mercenaries would finish their looting and be on their way.

Then he saw one of them dragging away a young woman who to judge by her brown hair could be no older than twenty. He was dragging her to one of the houses, while she screamed and fought back with all her strength. When one of the peasants tried to help her, he received a blow on the head from the butt of one of the mercenaries’ swords and fell to the ground unconscious.

Lasgol made his decision. There was no real choice.

Let’s go.

Chapter 2

Camu, to the third farm, he transmitted to his partner urgently.

I go, came Camu’s determined answer.

Ona. Stalk. Second farm.

The panther let out a small growl to show she had understood.

Be very careful and do exactly what I say. I don’t want anything to go wrong.

We follow, Camu promised, and Ona chirped in agreement.

A moment later they both ran off, one in his invisible state and the other hiding in the bush as if she were hunting for deer. Lasgol nocked his compound bow and aimed at the mercenary who was dragging the girl away. He had kicked her in the sides to stop her resisting, but in spite of the pain, terrified of the atrocity she was about to experience, she went on screaming and struggling. The man hit her again. Lasgol nearly released at that point, but his friends were not yet in position, so he bit his lip, took a deep breath and let his rage and frustration out with the air.

He managed to catch a glimpse of Ona, but Camu was invisible. Knowing his speed and the distance he could cover in a short time running at top speed, he calculated how long it would take his friend to reach his position. Then he took another deep breath, knowing that the moment had come. He had a clear target, although at that moment he wished he were Ingrid or Nilsa, who – along with Molak – were really amazing archers. He realized that he needed more and more urgently to develop a skill which would help him with long-distance shots, but he brushed the thought aside. There was no time left now for either complaints or wishful thinking.

The mercenary kicked the door of the second farm open, still dragging the young woman behind him. Time had run out, and Lasgol acted.

In most situations a Ranger had to act stealthily, always taking care to hide from the enemy, but this was not one of those times. He called upon Improved Agility and Cat-like Reflexes to help him in the fight. He identified two mercenaries at the far end, by the third farm, together with two more beside the prisoners – one of whom looked like the leader – and the fifth, who was about to enter the farm and bring his vileness to a head. He raced towards them across the open expanse of land, and contrary to what the Path taught, yelled at the top of his lungs: a Norghanian war cry.

The five mercenaries turned immediately and readied their weapons. He guessed he must be about a hundred paces away from the second house by now, and