Page 28 of Lake of Sorrow
“I’m fine,” she said.
“Do not shoot enemies far more powerful than you.”
He was right—her round hadn’t done anything but draw the Kar’ruk’s arrow—but she bristled at the order. “I’ll shoot whomever I please, whenever I please, thank you very much.”
Vlerion looked toward the wounded woman, then turned grave eyes toward Kaylina again as he rested a hand on her arm. The touch was light, his voice calm, if irritatingly pompous. “Not the Kar’ruk.”
“You think I should stick to rangers?”
He managed a tight smile. “Targon awaits proof of your accuracy with ranged weapons.”
“I can’t wait to give it to him,” Kaylina muttered as he walked toward Jankarr.
“I’m not sure how…” Jankarr pushed a hand through his sweaty blond hair. “But I think the Kar’ruk took his own life.”
“A pill or a tooth capsule,” Vlerion said. “Their scouts often carry poison into battle at the orders of their chieftains, who would rather have them die than betray secrets under torture.”
“Meaning there are secrets to be discovered?”
“Their reason for being in our land, at the least. And how they slipped past our watchtowers.”
“We need to question one.” Jankarr looked toward the Kar’ruk that Vlerion had battled, but the throat cutting had been fatal.
“That’s exactly what they didn’t want. But maybe the woman learned something.”
Kaylina joined them in the camp as they turned their attention toward the tied woman, her lip puffy, her face bruised, and blood dripping from her broken nose. The two men strung up to nearby trees were both dead. Only she had survived.
The woman turned glassy eyes toward the rangers. When Jankarr touched her shoulder and asked if she was all right, she barely stirred.
“She’s in shock,” he said, reaching for her bindings.
“Understandable.” Vlerion checked the men for pulses before cutting them down but shook his head. “These two were killed after being tortured.”
“Or they died because of the torture,” Jankarr said grimly.
Kaylina hung her sling on her belt and flexed her hands, feeling like she should be doing something. Being useful. But she didn’t know how.
Reminded of Crenoch’s wound, she went over to check on him. Blood matted his fur under the axe gouge, but he whuffed, as if to say it was nothing.
Kaylina didn’t agree, but she also didn’t know how to treat it. A doctor—or was there a ranger veterinarian who handled the taybarri?—would have to stitch it.
When Jankarr removed the wounded woman’s bindings, her knees gave out. He caught her and held her in his arms.
“She needs a doctor,” Vlerion said. “She’ll have to be treated and recover before she can tell us anything.”
“Are we heading back, then?” Jankarr lifted the woman to carry her to his taybarri.
“Take her to see Penderbrock.” Vlerion pointed at tracks on the ground, some heading east from the camp—deeper into the preserve and toward the mountains. “There were a lot more than these Kar’ruk in the area at one point.” He looked toward Kaylina.
She nodded. “We saw several last night, and there could have been a lot more.”
“We should all go back,” Jankarr said. “As delightful as Ms. Korbian smacking Kar’ruk with rocks is, she’s not yet a ranger and can’t help you.”
Kaylina winced, disappointed by how ineffective her sling had been. Kar’ruk skulls had to be harder than human skulls.
“You need experienced men with you in case you run into more,” Jankarr said when Vlerion continued to look east, his jaw set. He wanted to go after the rest of the Kar’ruk.
“You are correct that it would be smarter for Kaylina to return with you,” he said, ignoring the rest of Jankarr’s objection, “but you must be careful that she’s not seen in the city.”