Remedy Maker (46 page)

“I understand the attraction now.” Alek ignored his question and continued to stare at the spot where the girls had disappeared.

“I was talking about the Troll.” First Alek finds out Pennelope is dead, then he gets slapped with the marital surprise. Talk about your double whammies.

“Yeah, I’m good. Finding out she was married to Nubbs was like getting kicked in the teeth, but now it all makes sense.” He gestured with his hand for emphasis. “When she and I last spoke, she wished me well but said she’d gotten on with her life. Told me to go do the same. I just never thought . . . .” He looked at the ground, one hand on his hip, and pawed the dirt with a hoof. “Yeah, whatever.”

Whatever.
None of my business
. Rhy had his own problems to deal with—starting with his broken heart and a meeting Savella had called with all Herd leaders.

His personal life with Patience would have to journey an odyssey for time-tested love.

A few hours later, after packing his medical bag with additional remedies and other necessities, he and Alek made strides to the auditorium where the Herd meeting would convene.

“If I have to look at your ass much longer, I think I’m going to puke.” The Kempor’s ass end became a nauseating view on the single file trail they followed.

Alek laughed. “Might as well kiss it right now, buddy. You’re just jealous because mine is so fine and your pony is boney.”

To distract from the disgusting feature in front of his face, Rhy thought about which Centaur leaders and woodland representatives would be present, though all were called to this mandatory meeting. It would give an indication of who was loyal to the crown, and who wasn’t.

Gazing around deep in thought, his sight fell on a tiny sycamore sapling. No taller than the top of his boots, the little tree with green and yellow leaves struggled in the scant dirt between two large granite boulders.

“Alek, wait a sec.”

Poor soil conditions and lack of direct sun would surely kill the sprig over time.

An idea formed. And the more it took shape and dimension, the warmer his heart became. A need to infuse the infant sycamore with nutrients and life took on a force of its own. He thrust his fingers into the shallow dirt pitted in the tight crevice between the rocks.

“What the hell are you doing? We don’t have time for your garden club activities.” Alek stomped an impatient hoof and slapped a hand to his hide. His tail twitched from side to side, the equivalent of a tapping foot.

“I’m the royal Remedy Maker, Kempor Aleksander,” he said, good humor curving his lips. “Don’t question my methods.”

Rhycious placed the dirt packed root-ball in a clean cloth from his backpack and tied the package tight. Next, he carefully placed the sapling inside so as not to damage a single leaf. When he stood and adjusted the pack straps in place over his shoulders, contented ambience filled him once again. He focused on the change within and took tremendous pleasure in his mental realignment. It brought him one-step closer to normalcy—one-step closer to being worthy of Patience.

A direction to follow and his plan in place, they moved out, taking his latest and greatest remedy with him.

Thirty-Five

Rhy ached all over from lack of food, lack of sleep, and the emotional turmoil that plagued his mind. And yet, he had a smile on his face. He’d held the answer in the palms of his hands, the same answer that held his future.

Following Aleksander’s relentless pace, Rhy found himself nearing the site of the auction cave.

They both travelled easily with lightweight body armor, weaving in and around the pines and sycamores. A light film of perspiration cooled his neck and back.

Chunks of flowering vines wrapped their green feelers around moss-covered stones that littered the hillside. Not even nature in all her springtime glory could conceal the trampled grasses and cigarette butts left in the area.

Alek slowed when they neared the shadowy entrance. “Do you mind if we stop a minute?”

The way he stared into the abyss swept a chill up Rhy’s spine. Hollow eyed and grim faced, Aleksander looked the demonic specter in the face. The hole in the hill left Rhycious cold. It was so damned dismal, like the auction activities themselves.

It made a guy want to arm himself to the teeth before venturing forth.

“Sure. I understand.” Despite his reservations of reentering, he certainly empathized with Alek’s need to go inside.

For closure, if nothing else. 

Without the press of bodies, the interior seemed larger. Alek’s hooves struck the rocky floor, kicking loose stones to skitter about, bouncing their echo around the chamber like a rubber ball. Once their vision adjusted, Rhycious glanced about and noted the collar and leash lying on the ground, near the rear wall.

“The last time I saw Pennelope was right over there.” Rhy pointed at the items of enslavement and stepped closer. “Pennelope forced Serenity to wear that when she led her around.”

Aleksander didn’t say a word. He just stood with his hands clenched at his hips, staring at the proof before him. He picked the items up and gave them a little shake to knock the dirt off. “What the fuck was the Troll thinking?”

“I don’t know. Nubbs might. But you’ll never know if he’s giving you a straight answer.” Rhy caught sight of the glowing numbers on his watch. He didn’t want to hurry, knowing the importance of closing this chapter in his friend’s life, but they had to make tracks to arrive at the meeting on time. “Come on, buddy. Let’s go.”

Aleksander stashed the hard evidence in his carryall as they moved toward the mouth of the cave. Then something caught his eye, and he veered off. Down on his knee, he picked a shiny object out of the dirt and blew on it. Holding it to the light, he turned it over and around.

His face hardened into a glacial mask.

“Look at this.” Alek walked toward him, his hand open.

Outside, Rhy examined the object. In the flat of Aleksander’s calloused palm lay a silver brooch with emeralds cut in the shape of trees. Arching over the green stones was a bar of gold.

“Unless this was stolen, which I highly doubt, I’d say a cocky little shit has some explaining to do.” Aleksander opened his bag and tossed the pin inside.

Rhy rolled his shoulders, adjusting the backpack. “I’d like to hear his whiney explanation for this.” Habitually, he scanned the trees and areas in-between before moving out and onto the path. “If you’re smart,” he cut Alek a sharp look, “which you’ve never been, you won’t show that crap to Serenity. Not unless you want to get hurt, hospital bad.”

Alek laughed, his goatee stretching to accommodate the wide smile that won him many female hearts. “You’ve been hanging out with Patience too long. Now you sound like her.”

Movement in the brush off to their left had them both suddenly crouch, each pulling a weapon. The familiar leather wrapped handle of his heavy Bowie rested in a loose grip. Alek fondled two deadly stars.

Aleksander held up one finger, and then used it to point at the slow moving, barely discernible cracking bushes and crunching leaves. Next, he pointed to himself, then to a brush-framed recessed area in the hillside farther away.

Rhy kept his gaze focused in the direction where crackling movement alighted. A frightened grouse took to wing, chirping as it flew away, but their visitor remained anonymous.

He shot a glance toward Aleksander, who’d made it into position without a sound. As huge as the Kempor stood on four legs, he certainly kept light on his hooves.

Had it been a deer, the blond summer coat would have peeked through the intermittent brush and scattered rocks. A squirrel or rabbit didn’t have the weight to break twigs. And judging by the fading sounds, the operative moved further away.

Spies, lookouts, those who were sent to track and report—all of it went through his mental wash cycle, variables tumbling around. If the person out there were friendly, he’d have made himself known.

Knowing he’d piss Aleksander off, he took a chance.

Rhycious stood tall and glimpsed the fluttering ends of a beige robe. Aleksander’s curse rang out and the Centaur jumped over his cover of brush. Hooves shaking the ground on impact, Alek glared at him when he raced past to overtake whoever tailed them.

Rhy hurried to catch up, dodging obstacles in his path, trying not to jostle the precious cargo in his remedy bag. Just short of a clearing, he came abreast of Alek, who stood repacking the
shurikens
in his vest and watching the hillside before them.

On the other side of the clear-cut, a short statured creature with highly polished horns scampered with lightening speed through the underbrush. Goat-like climbing skills propelled the male up the steep embankment, clamoring over rocks and jumping sheer outcroppings. The short robe may have hidden his upper body, but the stiff, uplifted tail and those gleaming dual horns belonged to one person only.

Albion Yerdank,
Protectorate of Domains.

Aleksander squinted when the slight figure topped the steep rise and scurried out of sight. “What in the hell do you suppose he’s up to?”

“Hell if I know. You don’t think the little shit returned to the scene of a crime, do you?” Rhy sheathed his knife and cast a glance around, judging the simplest path back to the trailhead. Scrub oak and Manzanita twisted leg-breaking branches everywhere.

Aleksander turned his long equine body on the narrow patch of clear ground, his butt nearly knocking Rhy into a thorn bush. He gave an apologetic smile. “If that’s the case, Albion has something to do with what happened at the cave. It’d also explain why I found his pin of office laying in the dirt.” He scrubbed at the lines of tension between his brows. “Slavery? Murder?”

“I hardly know the man. What little I’ve seen, I can’t stand.” Rhycious turned down a switchback, routing them back on the trail to the auditorium.

“He’s power hungry, and I wouldn’t put anything past him. Savella appointed him to the position hoping to gain the trust and backing of the Satyr tribes. It’s worked to a degree.”

“If Albion’s guilty . . . .” Rhy paused in thought, the meaning obvious. “Then Nubbs is in the clear.” His boot slid in the loose top soil on a short decline.

Alek put out a steadying hand. “I can’t say I’d put it past Nubbs to—”

Crumbles of fist-sized rocks tumbled down the hill, raining on them with stinging force. In unison, they slammed themselves flat against the embankment. Debris continued to fall, striking them about the head and shoulders. Aleksander in his true form took more hits on his wide back than Rhy. Their armor deflected the worst of it, but every pelt gouged with torturous pain.

Keeping his voice low, Rhy asked, “You see anyone up there?”

“No. Not enough time.” Alek attempted to gain an upward visual, ducking back before falling debris smashed his face. Using his arm for head protection, he nodded toward the trail ahead of them. “It widens up ahead. It may just be Albion.” He shook some of the loose dirt out of his eyes. “Let me go first, then wait for my signal.”

Rhy gave him the thumbs up. More loose rock trickled down and he wondered if it were a natural occurrence or if someone was up there, walking the edge, watching for them. Damn it.

Aleksander blew a hard breath, then leaped out from the safety of the hillside. His tail streamed out as he galloped fast to the fore. An arrow whizzed overhead, aimed for his back. Rhy sucked air and held it, tracing the flight pattern, and breathed easier when it failed to pierce its mark.

Who the fuck
was up there?

Equally spaced pops rang out. Bullets crisscrossed overhead, cutting through vegetation, ricocheting off nearby rocks. The repercussions were absorbed by foliage and steep terrain. Within seconds, the peaceful atmosphere of the Boronda Forest changed. Wildlife within earshot ran or flew for their lives. Everything else became immobile, fear a common denominator.

Bits of dirt and puffs of dust ripped the ground in a succession of mini explosions alongside Aleksander’s galloping hooves. Thank the gods the shooter had terrible aim.

Weapon fire ceased when Alek dashed under a canopy of trees. Low dipping boughs provided a thick screen from whoever was shooting above on the ridge.

Rhycious kept his eyes trained on Aleksander, who held up two fingers and pointed above them. Next, he held one finger up, and directed two fingers down. He fluttered them back and forth.

Two hostiles above. One coming down.

The thing about being a mythological creature in the throes of an aggressive take-over, Rhy mused, is one never knows who their enemies are.

Both shoulder straps of his backpack were damp when he slipped them off and dropped it soundlessly to the ground. The seedling packed carefully inside must be kept safe at all costs. But if something should happen to him, who would know to deliver the tree to Dendron?

Another avalanche of rocks tumbled down in prelude to a Centaur’s appearance, his bow drawn and at the ready. Rhy pressed further into the hill and peered through the dry twigs of a dead bush, barely breathing, not moving.

The reddish hide and regency guard uniform gave away the newcomer’s identity. Sergeant Dryas moved like the mole he was, glancing back once, then stalked steadily toward Aleksander. In his arms, he held the latest in technology, one of the new crossbows with a sleek modern design. Detachable scope. Pinpoint accuracy.

Nice toy.

Definitely not the weapon of choice in close-range combat.

However, the way the sun glinted off the flesh tearing, three-blade titanium arrow tip, the circumstances wouldn’t make the crossbow any less deadly. Set to release at a feather’s touch, spring action pulled back and loaded, he wouldn’t argue with its owner.

If Dryas had Aleksander in the bad end of the crosshairs, Rhycious didn’t know. But knives, throwing stars, and a sword were all the weapons they had to defend themselves with.

 
Gods. Nothing like bringing a knife to a crossbow fight.