Pursued - Entire book

Chapter 1

"Admit it; this is going to be brilliant. Bet you can't think of anything better.

Klair looked at his best friend and shook his head, shivering as they stood in the shadowed tunnel. Two minor lamps illuminated the cavern of stone and dirt around them. "You've gone Hurrisic, Tarrant."

Klair's friend grinned. "You're just jealous because I thought of it first." He said as he finished tying a rope to the end of the boat.

Klair bent down and placed the box of whistles, their attached strings and posts inside the boat. It had been his friend's idea to come below ground, beneath the waterways near Merrsain village. They planned to install whistles throughout the tunnel and along the underground river. If things worked as expected, the townspeople would hear the whistling from the series of wells, lining the main road. Being early spring and the water would be freezing. Klair was glad for the sturdy boat.

"We'll be the talk of the town," Tarrant encouraged.

The roar of water echoed against the damp walls. Cold mist filled the air. Looking up, Klair studied the roots of plants spotting the ceiling.

"I'm not sure if this is the kind of reputation your uncle built at our age," Klair countered. His friend was sixteen and Klair fifteen. "I know you want to build connections and create an image, but this might just annoy a bunch of people."

Tarrant snorted. "Everyone loves music."

"Not in the middle the night."

"I don't need a fix up man right now, Patches. Klair, I need a partner."

Tarrant's getting good at manipulating people, him. But he was his best friend. When Klair first arrived in Merrsain three years ago, Tarrant had been the first to offer friendship. Not the first time Tarrant had planned and executed an escapade, often resulting in consequences requiring Klair's ingenuity to get them out of trouble. Because of his past efforts of help, he had acquired the nickname Patches. His friend's personality like a torch, easily directed all attention away from Klair's personal peculiarities.

"I don't need a fix-up man right now, Patches." Tarrant pointed at Klair. "I need a partner."

Tarrant's skills for manipulating people had grown over the last year. Klair, his best friend, being his prime target. Three years ago, when Klair arrived in Merrsain, Tarrant introduced himself first. Tonight's escapade had all the earmarks of the other escapades Tarrant had planned. Each one of those required Klair to smooth things over and gets them both out of trouble. At least Tarrant's fiery personality drew attention away from Klair's personal peculiarities.

I'm his Patches, his fix-it man.

He wasn't certain what his friend meant about his learning how to 'pull the strings.' Klair had no interest in politics.

Tarrant's hatred of Kapawn wizards made him popular. The war at Hurrisic Pass, between the nations of Anvil and Fist, seventeen years ago, caused some of the battling wizards to go insane. The battle made part of the land to be infertile causing resentment of the northern provinces of Anvil. Wizards were now hated in Merrsain as well as the other northern villages.

His friend, even at sixteen, fueled the flames of old hatreds getting him noticed by many.

"They won't know who to blame," Tarrant said, drawing Klair attention back to the boat. "It's just you and me, and I don't plan on opening my mouth... for now." Tarrant rested an arm around Klair's shoulder, lowering his voice to a conspiring tone, but loud enough to be heard over the river. "Eventually maybe we'll permit a casual comment, made by mistake," he emphasized, "showing those 'in the know' what we did. Yet we've kept our mouths shut. If we don't blabber this, then what else could we have done that we haven't told?" Tarrant spread the fingers of his free hand before him. "The imagination takes it from there."