Pursued - Entire book

Chapter 22

The next morning, two wagons rattled against the uneven ground while they traveled the road deeper into Koova's forest. Poral waved his thumb toward his men sitting in the back of their wagon. "This is your responsibility, wizard. Keep my men safe while they chop."

Klair nodded.

"Jerkanis may be my elder brother, but he can't stop me from chopping here"

"Is the rest of the forest re­stricted?" Though Klair was an only child it seemed sad to see two brothers, both who loved the woods, would be enemies.

Poral snorted. "Of course not."

"Then why—?"

"You're not elder here, boy." The woodsman snapped the reins against the twin horses and the first wagon increased pace.

"Stick to what you've been assigned." He jabbed a finger against Klair's chest. "Keep us safe while we cut. It's going to require something more than your trickery of dancing hats and mugs."

Klair stared ahead and shivered in the cold.

Poral had taken Klair's cloak, replacing it with a threadbare imitation until Klair earned ownership through their contract. Poral had also arranged for Klair's portrait to be sketched in case he fled and proved himself a Spawn under the employ of the Seiun.

The Seedling would be hunted down if the need arose.

Klair glanced back to the trail behind them. He missed his customary spot beside Nallock. He'd never seen two men so different than between the woodsmen and the weaver. The woodsman nearly ignored him, treating him with cold distain while Nallock had become a friend. Now in the effort to earn more silver, he foolishly boasted his magic and lost his apprenticeship. His stomach twisted with regret.

Hope Merimee will tell Nallock what happened.

The wagon entered a denser concentration of trees and the green-laden trail muffled the rattle of the wagon. One of Koova's chief exports was lumber and the city hosted a thousand families. Klair, Poral and the group of woodsmen sitting in the back in the bed of the wagon rode in companionable silence. Klair breathed in the aroma of the great oaks. He loved the trees.

"You have a grand forest here."

The woodsmen only grunted.

Bejja would have loved it here.

Mentor five had taken a particular delight in carving toys out of different woods. Bejja's skill with the blade and saw had shown wizardry wasn't required for one who possessed their own kind of magic.

Bejja also introduced Klair to scent wood. As a gift to the city, his previous mentor had managed the community fires during celebrations.

Scent wood made great the soaps too.

He felt a pang of homesickness as he remembered his mother's response to Klair's and Scov's teasing about her soaps.

The woodsman pulled the wagon to a stop.

"When I point out Jerkanis to you, kill him," Poral said.

Klair stiffened, his breathing quickened. From the damage he'd done to trees and people's homesteads, he knew he had the power kill a man with his magic. How many huge trees had he destroyed during a mere temper tantrum? Could he take another's life in a similar manor? He might stop the beat of a heart. Klair could crush someone's neck like he'd done to the wasp?

Could he kill a man?

If he was willing to kill a man, he must decide now. Would he do whatever Poral ordered? He looked at the man's hands. His right palm had no city seal of execution. The man condoned murder. Klair looked to face Poral and found the other watching him. His voice hardened. "I will not kill your brother."

"Who will you kill?" Poral demanded, grabbing him by his tunic so he couldn't breathe.

Klair yelped in pain. He tried to pull back but the woodsman's grip was like a vice. "Let me go!" Klair squawked trying to pry the man's hands away, his heart raced.

"Who would you kill, wetling?"

Klair felt the sting of skin caught in the clutch of the other's grip. His panic rose and the hold made it hard to breathe. "Let me go!"

"Make me!"

Klair's heart pounded. He glared down at the hands holding him.

Poral suddenly let go, shaking his hands like they had been burned.

Klair fell back, gasping grateful lungs of air and he drew a trembling hand to his chest massaging the hurt there.

"Your pupils fill your eyes when you use your magic." Poral stated more calmly.

They do?

Klair glared back at him, anger rising for a new reason. He scratched his head vigorously, trying to dissipate the energy there. "You're testing me!" Klair accused

"You're untried," the other said in a tone of dismissal. "You're almost a man. Have you not yet decided what you are going to do? I thought you had chosen wizardry with how you paraded yourself up on stage."

Klair did not reply.

"Silence is not an answer." Poral's eyes bored into him. "Perhaps you are a coward and intend to do damage in secret where no one knows better." The woodsman thrust a hand out toward the trees. "Perhaps you want to destroy our forest. Why not starve a nation by rotting our land?"

"Starve a nation—"

Patience spent, Klair swept his hand before him. His magic almost succeeded in knocking Poral out of the wagon. Had the man not previously inserted his foot around the brake and quickly compensated. Had he not bent to the slap of power, Klair may have succeeded.

"You tell me to kill your brother and you call me coward!" His voice rose, sounding like a child's, and he tried to ignore the high pitch.

It would be so easy to—

Klair folded his arms, hands tucked beneath his armpits to help contain the too easy urges while Poral pulled himself more securely into the wagon. To Klair's surprise, he didn't retaliate and the men in the back merely watched the exchange.

The forester's voice softened. "Klair, you obviously have enormous power and ability. Perhaps you have the skills common to other Spawn. With all the stupid Strands dirtying up the waters, you're the first real Kapawn pup I've met." He shook his head. "It looks like you have yet to decide what you will do." He looked down at his singed fingers. "I'm not certain what to make of you."

Voice subdued, Klair's gaze settled to the dirt road. "Neither do I."

=2�ѵw&