Orval wasn't dumb, though, and he was starting to get suspicious about Derek's delaying tricks. He spent his whole day bringing up the rear in their little procession, and constantly watching the other members, which he had been doing from day one; he even watched the other swordsman Garrick. But as he had gotten more suspicious, he had also gotten more vocal, which still wasn't saying very much, as he had hardly ever spoken in the beginning. Now, however, he didn't hesitate to question every delaying decision that Derek made, and it was seriously starting to irritate Derek. It was hard to refuse a logical suggestion from Orval without a valid reason. And all of Orval's suggestions centered around on speeding the trip up.
Garrick, on the other hand, was the exact opposite of Orval. He hadn't even appeared to notice that the trip was taking longer than it should have, or if he did notice then he was doing an excellent job of hiding it. He was still annoying though, and he spent the entire day telling stories about his past, his friends, or just things he had heard. He moved his horse all around during the daily trek, each time moving closer to another rider to tell them one of his stories, apparently not noticing their complete and total inattention. He was just as bad every night in camp. They had fallen into a bit of routine in setting up camp but that still didn't stop Garrick from taking turns telling each person a better way of doing something that they had been doing from day one.
Tomorrow, however, was more than just the one week mark of their trip. Derek was fairly certain that they would reach Baron Ludon's estates tomorrow, and then they were in serious trouble. The villages were starting to get closer together, and these villages owed their allegiance to the Baron.
Early in the afternoon, Orval had even asked a farmer how much longer to Ludon's estates. The farmer had looked terrified, but he had said that the riders were about twenty five miles away. Without a doubt, they should reach the estates tomorrow.
The farmer had quickly returned to his work, all the while keeping his eyes down. That was not unusual, though. As much fun as the trek through Ontaria had been, the trip through Delamar had been equally depressing. In Ontaria, the villagers and farmers had waved at the riders, and been quick with a friendly word, but not in Delamar. Here, the villagers kept their eyes on the ground, and kept silent, and that was if you managed to see them. Because, if they saw the riders first, then they just hid until the riders had gone past.
Derek didn't blame the peasants, though. On three separate occasions, they had ridden past a tree that had been decorated with a man hanging from one of the limbs. The first time, Derek had asked a farmer what the man had done. Derek had been horrified to hear that the man's crime was hiding food from his lord. He hadn't asked after that, not even when they saw a whole family hanging from a limb. Averting his eyes, he had just kicked his horse into a faster trot.
“There's a good spot,” Derek called out, pointing to a small wooded field just off of the road. “Let's set up camp just over behind those trees, there.”
“Why?”
Derek sighed; once again it was Orval questioning his orders. Silently, he wished that he could just tell the man to be quiet and do as he was told, but the chances of that happening were not very good. He silently promised himself that Orval would be the first swordsman to go. “Because,” Derek said through gritted teeth, “it's nearly dark.” That wasn't quite true, but it was close enough.
“So?” Orval returned, “We're close enough to the estates. Let's just ride through the evening.”
Fighting hard to keep his temper under control, Derek turned his horse around so that he could face Orval. “Fine. Go on then, but we are spending the night here.” Glaring, but without another word, Derek spun his horse around and headed for the tree line. He could hear the others following, all of them silent, except for Garrick who was chuckling.
Setting up camp was even less enjoyable than normal that night. Sensing the mood, the other guardians were quiet for the most part, each going about their normal tasks. Orval, however, sat down on a rock, and just sat there watching the others do their work. If he had been a kid, Derek would have said that he was pouting. Of course, Garrick was not quiet, in fact he seemed louder than ever, but maybe his voice just seemed louder since everyone else was so quiet.
Sighing, Derek walked away from camp, he didn't plan on going far but he couldn't think with all that tension surrounding him. What to do about the swordsmen? Maybe they could beat the two in a fight, but he feared that one or more of the guardians could be seriously hurt, or Adel forbid, killed. There was no way that he could ever forgive himself, if one of those under his command died. Feeling the first tinges of a headache coming on, Derek began rubbing his temples. He had to get rid of the swordsmen, but how? They were already suspicious, well, at least Orval was suspicious. Garrick was just crazy, and he couldn't decide who was the more dangerous. Orval had to go first, because he was the one who was paying attention. Hell, they could probably kill Orval without Garrick even noticing.
He walked for about ten minutes, trying to come up with an idea, but his mind just kept wandering. What to do? What to do? They had to get the rid of the swordsmen quick, but he couldn't think of a way. Anything obvious was doomed to failure, especially with Orval already scrutinizing every decision he made.
The night air was cool and relaxing, but he could still feel the tightness of his muscles, and his head continued to throb. Looking around, he noticed a small hill just to his right, and headed up the gentle slope. He stumbled in the darkness, but caught himself before he fell. Had to be careful in the dark, or. Suddenly, his foot caught something, and he fell over, landing hard on his stomach, the breath knocked out of him.
It took a moment to catch his breath, and as he lay there his shin was already starting to hurt. Cursing quite loudly, Derek climbed back to his feet, checking first to make sure that nothing was broken. Looking around, he found what had tripped him, it was a log and he hadn't seen it in the darkness.
Taking it as a sign from above, Derek sat down on the end of the old log. It had been dead a long time before it fell, and woodpeckers had attacked it with gusto, so he lowered himself slowly, just in case it crumbled under his weight. As rotten as it was, it was a pleasant surprise that it was still in good enough shape to support him.
Pulling up his trouser leg, he hesitantly began rubbing his sore shin. He was relieved that there wasn't any blood, but the skin was still extremely sore to the touch. Without a doubt, it would be an outrageous bruise.
Chuckling, and not really sure why, he wondered what else could go wrong.
The next morning dawned cool and grey. The clouds had started rolling in early the previous afternoon, and they had apparently kept coming right on through the evening.
Derek was eating breakfast, if you could call a stale biscuit and a piece of leftover fish breakfast. He hadn't slept much last night, instead, he had tossed and turned in his blankets, still feverishly trying to think of a way to lose the extra members of their party. But so far, inspiration was avoiding him like the plague. He glanced up from the disgusting biscuit, and froze. Orval had left the camp, possibly to relieve himself, and Garrick was busy pestering Kara on the far side of the camp. That left Derek alone with Trestus for what felt like the first time in days.
Trestus was also sitting by the fire, eating an old stale biscuit. Well, actually, he was sitting, holding a biscuit and staring half asleep into the fire.
Glancing around again to make sure that Orval wasn't sneaking up on them, Derek whispered, “Trestus. We have to lose these guys today. Quickly! Any ideas?”
Trestus glanced around, now looking noticeably more awake. “No. I have been thinking about it for days now, but I've got nothing. You?”
Derek shook his head, “No.”
“We may just have to risk a fight with them.”
“That will be risky,” Derek said. “I think these guys are good at what they do.”
Trestus nodded, “Maybe if we surprised them?” He shrugged,
“Perhaps, take one of them out quickly.”
His suggestion mirrored what Derek had been thinking, but it still bothered him. “Orval is the one who's watching every move we make, so perhaps we should take him out first.”
Trestus frowned, “Maybe, but if Garrick isn't paying attention to us then maybe he would be easier.”
A rustling came from the forest on the other side of camp and Orval emerged from the bushes walking slowly towards the fire. Looking down so that Orval couldn't see his lips move, Derek spoke quickly and quietly. “Follow my lead, and do whatever you think is best.”
Orval walked across the camp and knelt down by the fire, on the opposite side from Derek. He smiled, but it was an evil cold smile. “So, we should reach Baron Ludon's estates today.”
Hating the man, Derek nodded. If he had a knife, he would have thrown it at the swordsman. “Yeah. I'm guessing mid-afternoon.” Derek tried hard to keep the hatred out of his voice. Orval's smile got bigger, and Derek knew he had failed miserably. 'He knows,' Derek thought. How could they possibly surprise Orval? He always rode at the back of the group, watching everyone like a hawk. Perhaps Garrick would be easier. Should he take out Garrick first? He looked over at Kara and Garrick. He was following her around telling her something about how to cook over a fire. Kara was trying her best to get away from the man, but he would not be dissuaded.
Orval stood up, “I'll just go pack my stuff.” He smiled again, “I'm looking forward to meeting the Baron.” Smirking, he walked away towards his blankets.
Derek waited for a moment to make sure that Orval couldn't overhear them, “Trestus. Pass the word to Kara and Enstorion. Make sure they know to be ready.”
They broke camp less than an hour after sunup, and continued along the road to the southwest. They were definitely getting close to Baron Ludon's estates, they could tell by the increasing number of farms they were passing. Not only were there more farms than before, but they were getting much nicer. Derek saw several sprawling manor houses made of stone. He could only assume they belonged to the minor nobles that served the Baron.
Wiping sweat from his forehead, Derek used the motion as an excuse to look behind him. It was still cool in the morning air, but the sweat drops were running down his face and back. It was the anxiety and fear that were getting to him, not the heat. It wasn't fear for his own life that so worried him. The fear that threatened to turn his bowels to water was that one of the other guardians would die for his mistake. If one of us has to die, then please let it be me, he prayed under his breath. How did Flare deal with this on a daily basis?
Looking back over the riders, things were pretty much as he expected, bad as could be. Orval was even farther behind the other riders than normal, and he was watching them intently. He even rested his hand on his sword hilt. His dark eyes seemed to be stuck on Derek, and he most definitely caught him looking. A mirthless grin spread across his face.
Just in front of Orval was Enstorion, patiently riding his mare, and leading the pack horse. He watched the road carefully, but seemed oblivious to all else, so much for Trestus telling him to be ready before they left camp this morning. Derek pushed away the anger that tried to rise up. It wasn't Trestus' fault and Derek really wasn't angry with him. The frustration and anxiety was simply starting to take their toll on him. Perhaps Orval hadn't left them alone long enough to talk, but it really didn't matter, this was bad, plain and simple. As soon as Derek decided to attack the swordsmen, Orval would attack the nearest guardian, who just happened to be unarmed and not paying attention. Enstorion would be dead before he even knew anything was going on.
Just in front of Enstorion was Trestus. He plodded along, seemingly indifferent to the world around him, but Derek knew better. The man was coiled and ready to spring at the first sign from Derek. Trestus' eyes found Derek, and he raised his eyebrows slightly, silently asking were they ready. Derek shook his head almost imperceptibly, and Trestus turned his attention back to the fields on either side of the road.
Ahead of Trestus, and just behind Derek, were Kara and Garrick. It was obvious that Kara was not happy with this arrangement by the scowl she wore like armor. She too caught Derek watching, and for a moment her scowl deepened, as if Derek was enjoying her situation. But then she also raised her eyebrows, silently asking the same question that Trestus had asked. Once again, Derek shook his head imperceptibly. Well, at least Trestus had managed to warn Kara and she was ready.
Garrick as usual, noticed nothing. He just kept droning on and on, but luckily Derek had learned to ignore the man, which was not an easy thing to do.
Sighing, Derek turned back around and surveyed the road. Can't wait much longer, got to do this quick. Even though there were several hours until they should reach the Baron's estates, they couldn't wait near that long and it was because of the increasing number of farms and manors. The peasants may run and hide in Delamar, but if a noble looked out his window and saw a sword fight between six people, then the guardians would definitely have to face a judge, and probably the executioner, as well.
This part of Delamar was getting hillier, perhaps a quick strike as soon as they crested a high hill. Garrick would have to be first to go, there simply wasn't any way to get to Orvall, quickly. Maybe he could take out Garrick without Orval even seeing. Maybe, but somehow he doubted it. As much as he dis-liked Garrick, he loathed Orval, and he felt bad about the upcoming betrayal. If he could have found a way to get to Orval first, then perhaps he could have convinced Garrick to ride away and forget them. Probably not, but he would like to have tried. Frowning, he began seriously searching the road for a suitable place.
In addition to getting hillier, there seemed to be fewer farms along this stretch of the road. Perhaps, it was because of the difficulties of farming in hilly terrain, especially when the nice flat grasslands were so close. Regardless of why there weren't many farms, the fact that this area was hilly and lacking farms only increased Derek's sense of urgency. The perfect spot had to be around here, he just had to find it.
The road was definitely sloping up now, and woods were growing on either side of the road. The woods were mainly pine trees and showed signs of having been cut back from near the road. After traveling through the grass lands for so long, the trees were a pleasant sight. If not for the upcoming fight, Derek was sure that the trees would have relaxed him. But as they would soon be fighting two swords masters, the trees did not do much for him. Looking ahead, he noticed the road curve upward and to the west. It peaked right next to an old dead chestnut tree. The leafless tree stood right next to the road, and was kind of eerie. Perhaps an omen? Derek thought. That spot seemed like the best he could hope for, wait until they crested the hill, and try to quickly and cleanly take out Garrick. And then? Then, hope and pray.
It took about ten minutes for them to reach the beginning of the hill, and then several more to reach the peak. Derek, of course, reached it first. Right before cresting the hill, he looked back once more. Everyone was in the same position, but both Kara and Trestus caught his eye and he knew that they would be ready. Still turned in his saddle, he glanced quickly at Orval. He still had his hand resting on the sword, but he was staring off in to the trees. Perhaps this would work out.
Starting to turn back around, he suddenly noticed that the droning voice of Garrick had finally stopped. Glancing at the man, he was surprised to see Garrick watching him, all the while wearing what looked like a wicked smile. Why had he stopped talking, and started staring. Did he suspect? Panic flooded Derek; his whole plan depended on taking out Garrick before Orval knew. He had been more worried about Orval finding out what was about to happen than Garrick. Was that a bad judgment on his part? Steeling himself for whatever happened, he resigned himself to the upcoming fight.
Just reaching the top of the hill, Derek turned back around, facing forward. Taking a deep breath, he tensed, preparing to strike the first blow, but he suddenly saw what was in front of him, and pulled his horse up short. He heard K
ara and Garrick pull their horses up behind him.
About twenty men stood in a semi-circle, effectively blocking the road forward. Each of the men held a sword at the ready, like they had been expecting them to ride over the hill. Judging by the way they held the swords, they knew how to use them, although Derek doubted that any of the men were even close to Orval or Garrick's skill level. This was bad and getting worse by the moment.
The worst part, were the three figures sitting on horses just beyond the semi-circle of warriors. On the left-most horse sat a warrior. He had a dark complexion and would have fit right in here in Delamar. Although difficult to tell with him sitting on a horse, he seemed short but muscular. He had long black hair that reached down to his shoulders and a long hanging down mustache, a single gold hoop hung from his right ear. A sword hilt stuck up over his left shoulder, and he wore a grim pitiless smile. It was a smile that held no mirth and chilled a person to their toes. He didn't wear a cloak, but instead wore a long sleeved woolen shirt, and loosing fitting trousers.
The middle rider had to be a magician, judging by the staff resting across her pommel and several books tied to the back of her saddle. She wore a long grey cloak that covered her almost completely, except the cowl was not raised, and her face was clearly visible. She was a beautiful woman, high cheek bones, light colored skin, full lips, and long jet black hair, but her beauty was marred by an unmistakable coldness. She had an arrogant sneering look about her.
The rider on the right looked every bit the way a lord should look. He was tall, with chiseled features, and piercing blue eyes. Shoulder length blond hair framed a face that would have made any woman swoon. He wore grey trousers, and a loose fitting white shirt. A sword that was slightly curved rested on his hip. He stared at the newcomers with a piercing knowing gaze, as if measuring each of them. A sense of deadliness radiated from him.
Ossendar: Book Two of the Resoration Series Page 35
