“No, dear one,” Tealor replied, glancing over at his beautiful companion, “I mean; someone's already on the scent. While we were following the main trail, I noticed another running beside it. It's possible that two riders were spread out from the main pack for some reason, but it is much more likely that it was a second group following the first. Also, notice that one of the guard's swords is missing. You can see where whoever took it dismounted and searched the area before taking the blade and riding across the bridge.”
“You have very clever eyes.”
“Thank you, but the soil is soft and the trail is fresh. Still, we must hurry.”
“Lead on, my noble champion.”
In response, the warrior spurred his horse onward across the bridge at a full gallop, his lady following quickly and closely.
“You have no idea why he wants me?” Gwendolyn asked as soon as the horses had slowed to a pace that allowed conversation.
“None whatever,” Sir Barlan answered, staring out into the distance.
“I'm no one of importance,” the young maiden said, turning to face her captor. “My family's nobility was lost in the war. We have no lands or titles. If Galrin's as wealthy as you claim, then he certainly doesn't want me for ransom. Why am I worth all this effort?”
“In my opinion, you're not,” the giant mercenary said, shaking his head. “But, what I think doesn't matter; it's what Galrin thinks. He thinks you're worth a great deal.”
“Are you sure I'm the right girl?”
At this, the giant rogue laughed heartily.
“Of that, I'm quite certain. Your house was watched for weeks. Every door, every passageway was memorized. I don't know why Galrin wants you, but I know it's you he wants. You and none other.”
This reply temporarily brought their discourse to an end. Questions filled her head, but it was doubtful that her captors could answer any of them. Was she more important than she knew? Had her father become involved in something that had made him powerful enemies? Perhaps Galrin himself was mistaken. These thoughts circled through her mind as she rode along at the side of her captor.
“Perhaps he wants you for a bride,” Barlan said after a few minutes' silence.
“A bride?” Gwendolyn exclaimed.
“Well, to be honest, I hadn't given the question much thought,” the mercenary captain replied, turning his eyes to his prisoner. “Usually, there's no reason. We're paid to do a job, and we do it. There's always a motive if you look for one, but I don't. It's bad for business. In this case, however, you can't help but ask questions. That's just what was bothering Mort. Questions without answers. As far as I can tell, you really are of no importance. Your father has a little gold, but nothing to compare with Galrin. He's the son of a broken noble, and you're his daughter. So far, there's nothing extraordinary about that. If he had done something to anger Galrin, he'd have been dead long ago; so this isn't about revenge. Of course, for all I know, Galrin truly is mad. He may want to sacrifice you alive in some ritual because he thinks your bloodline's important or something like that.”
“You'd hand me over knowing he might kill me?” the young girl asked, the blood draining from her face.
“For what he's paying us, I'd cut your throat myself,” the villain said with a wicked grin. “It's nothing personal, my dear, it's just business. If Galrin wants you dead, you're going to die. If I can get something out of it, at least it won't be a total waste. We all die, one way or the other...”
Once again, this brought their conversation to a close. Gwendolyn's eyes began to fill with tears as the possible fates that awaited her played out in her imagination one by one. Few things are as terrifying as the unknown, and she had nothing but the unknown to face. The drops running silently down her pretty face momentarily warmed some small corner of Barlan's heart.
“There's no need to cry, little one; at least not yet,” he said, stretching himself in the saddle and smiling at her. “More than likely, Galrin plans to keep you safe and well. He gave us very strict orders not to harm you in any way. I don't think he would have bothered to do that if he just meant to kill you. I'm also sure he wouldn't have told us to treat you well if this were a matter of revenge. No, he wants you for a bride. More than likely for Valrak. Though, why he wants you, I can't imagine. Probably saw your pretty face and was captivated by it. You're a bit young in my opinion, but time will cure that. Here you sit crying when you'll probably end up one of the wealthiest women within a hundred leagues.”
This idea seemed to sober the old rogue for a moment.
“Keep in mind, dear, that we've treated you well,” he said after a brief silence. “We've done no more than we were paid to do. If you end up Valrak's wife, I want you to remember that none of this was our idea. We only did as we were ordered. If there's any fault here, it's with Galrin; not Sir Barlan and his rough, but honorable little band.”
Gwendolyn didn't reply. She had nothing to say. The thought of marrying Valrak or Galrin seemed, if anything, worse than death itself. There was only one thing to do. She would have to escape. At the first opportunity, she would fly. Until then, she had to do her best to make sure that the opportunity did arise.
Darian glanced over his shoulder to see his passenger staring off into the distance behind them. The trail they were following led into a small wood and, with each passing moment, more verdure stood between them and the plain they had just crossed. Whatever she was looking at would soon be hidden from view.
“Is something wrong?” the young knight asked, wondering just what was captivating Erana's attention.
“No,” she replied, still staring behind her, “I'm sure it's nothing.”
Darian turned his attention back to the road just in time to keep from running into Kilren. The young rogue had brought his horse to a stop and was staring down at the remains of a fire.
“They camped here,” he said, sliding from the saddle, “and they weren't here long.”
“What makes you say that?” Darian asked as he and Erana dismounted.
“You can see where their horses were tied. The grass is still long and thick. If they had been here for more than a few hours, that wouldn't be the case.”
“They haven't been gone long either,” Erana observed holding her hand above the fire. “These ashes are still warm.”
Kilren smiled at Erana. “One of them is wounded; his dressing was changed here. You can see drops of blood on the grass.”
Erana rose and stalked over the ground carefully. “Two of them have ridden off in a different direction. Perhaps he's wounded badly.”
“They're kidnappers,” Kilren announced, leaning back against a tree.
“How can you know that?” Erana asked, glancing up at him.
“Well, I suppose I can't be sure,” he said, picking up the night dress Gwendolyn had discarded when she changed clothes, “but, they're either kidnappers or very strange.”
“Maybe they had a girl with them the whole time,” Darian suggested.
Both his companions stared at him silently for a moment.
“That's not very likely, is it?” Kilren replied with a grin. “Murderers very rarely take their daughters with them to teach them the trade.”
“Besides, she was tied,” Erana explained, picking up a piece of frayed rope near the foot of tree.
“Then, it's even more important that we hurry! We must....” Darian began.
Erana raised her hand and turned her head quickly. “Someone's coming.”
“I can't hear anything,” Kilren said after a moment's careful listening.
“I'm not surprised,” Erana replied, “but there are riders approaching, none the less.”
“We can't wait, we need to hurry,” Darian said, climbing back in the saddle.
“They may know more about what's going on; they may even offer to help,” Kilren suggested.
“I agree,” Erana said, unshouldering her bow. “We need to see who they are and what they know. You two talk to them. I'l
l watch from cover in case they turn out to be less than friendly.”
“If nothing else, you can scare the life out of them,” Kilren winked.
“Arrows through the eyes tend to do that,” she replied before hiding herself carefully amongst the plant life.
A few minutes' wait brought the sound of galloping horses to the less sensitive ears of the two young men; a minute more revealed two riders. A large man on a dark horse rode before a small, beautiful woman on a white mount. As the two approached the camp, they slowed their horses and finally came to a complete stop within feet of the knight and his companion.
“Hail. I'm Sir Darian, and this is Kilren. Who are you and what brings you here?”
The man sat, silently staring at the Telian with a pensive expression on his face. At last, he spoke.
“That symbol on your chest is the mark of Solarin.”
“It is,” Darian answered with a nod.
“Solarin fell long ago.”
“It will rise again!” was the young knight's firm reply.
A smile slowly spread across the large warrior's face.
“I'm Tealor, and this is Sarena.”
“We must be very careful,” Kilren said, urging his horse closer to that of his companion while staring at the beautiful woman before them. “Many men have been led to their doom by fey spirits taking on the form of creatures whose beauty defies nature. I could almost believe this nymph were human if she were just a bit less fair. As it is, we must be wary; we must not fall to the charms of her seduction.”
“This nymph whom you fear may seduce you is my wife!” Tealor said, laying his hand on the hilt of his sword.
“Ah, yes! On second thought, I see it now. Quite the matronly figure, really. Obviously, an excellent cook. Good birthing hips!” Kilren said, nodding as he spoke.
Tealor began to draw his blade before his wife's laughter stayed his hand.
“Don't be angry with the fool, love,” she said, smiling at her husband. “I'm certain he meant no harm. I'm curious to know why they're here, and a corpse isn't very likely to answer your questions.”
“You're right, dear heart,” the warrior replied, sliding his sword once more into its sheath. “First, I'd like to know what you're doing here; including your hidden companion.”
Erana emerged from her hiding place; a slight tinge of red revealing her embarrassment at having been discovered.
“We're pursuing a band of murderers who've kidnapped a girl,” she said, staring boldly up at the warrior.
“Well then, your journey's at an end,” Tealor replied. “My wife and I will rescue the girl. You children can go home where you'll be safe.”
“I'm not turning back,” Darian said, “but, I'd be glad of your company.”
“It takes more than a suit of armor to make you a warrior, boy,” Tealor said, turning his gaze to the young knight.
“It's my duty to rescue this girl. I'm a Telian Knight.”
“Are you, indeed?” the warrior asked, leaning back in his saddle and crossing his arms.
“I am a Ranger of Innalas,” Erana said, proudly lifting her head.
“How very impressive,” Tealor replied with a tone of condescension.
“And I'm... Well, I guess you would say... Anyway, I'm with him,” Kilren said, pointing at Darian.
“It's very noble of you to want to help, young knight, but...” the warrior began.
“I'll not stop pursuing these villains,” Darian said, shaking his head. “Destiny has led me here, and destiny will lead me to victory. We can ride together or apart but, in either case, I'll not turn back.”
“Let them come with us, love,” Sarena said, interrupting the argument. “The elf and the knight may prove useful. As for the fool, when he gets himself killed; it will certainly be amusing.”
“Very well,” the large warrior said after a moment's consideration. “We'll ride together.”
Gwendolyn felt as if she had spent an eternity in the saddle by the time Barlan called his band of mercenaries to a halt. In truth, they had only ridden for about twelve hours; but that was far longer than she had ever ridden for pleasure. Every one of her muscles seemed to cry out in pain as she slowly lowered herself from the saddle. Still, if all went as she hoped, she would be riding again before the night was over.
“Start a fire, Mallin. I want something hot to eat tonight,” the large mercenary said as the party came to a stop.
“Do you really think Valrak may want me for a bride?” Gwendolyn asked, stepping over to where the giant rogue stood unsaddling his horse.
“It's seems likely,” he said, pulling the bridle from his horse's head.
“I see...” the young maiden said almost dreamily. “How wealthy is he?”
“Very,” Sir Barlan answered with a chuckle. “He's one of the richest men in these parts; perhaps in all of Areon.”
“What is his castle like?” she asked, stroking the horse's face.
“A fortress, from what I hear,” the giant mercenary replied, lifting the saddle from his beast and walking over to the already blazing fire. “I don't think it's had much in the way of the feminine touch up to now.”
“It seems that may change...” she replied wistfully. “Does he have many servants?”
“I would guess that more than a thousand men serve him, but they're all warriors. I don't know more than that,” Barlan said, taking a seat on the ground.
“Does he have a title?” the maiden asked, staring down into the fire.
“No, but men call him Lord just the same,” Barlan answered, glancing over at the young girl. “He'll end up a Duke someday, mark my words.”
“So I would be called Lady?” Gwendolyn asked, holding her hands out to the small blaze.
“I'm sure you would be,” Barlan said with a chuckle. “I suppose that would thrill your little heart.”
“Is he handsome?” she asked, smiling at her captor.
“I've never laid eyes on him, but I've heard that he is,” he answered with a nod.
“When will we reach Galrin?”
“Sometime tomorrow night or the following morning.”
“Can we ride further tonight?” the young maiden asked, a hint of excitement in her voice.
The old rogue laughed loudly.
“You can barely walk, and the men are exhausted. No, we need a good night's rest. We'll start again in the morning.”
“Very well,” Gwendolyn sighed. “I guess the sooner we get to sleep, the sooner we can be up and on our way.”
“That's certainly true,” her captor replied.
The young maiden began to show a warming enthusiasm as she was given descriptions of Valrak's wealth and power. Whereas before she had seemed the helpless captive, she now appeared to be a willing participant in all these events. Gwendolyn knew that her best hope of escape was to put her captors off their guard; to make them believe she was not only ready, but eager to meet Galrin. She insisted that they let her remove the saddle and bridle from the horse she had ridden, as well as brush the beast down. As they ate, she sat beside Barlan; pelting him with questions about Valrak. She showed delight at every hint of his power, every description of his wealth. She asked each member of the little band to tell her what they knew of the great mercenary lord.
Once the meal was completed, most of the men fell quickly to sleep. A single member of the band was left to keep a wakeful watch over the camp. Gwendolyn sat down beside this single sentry, offering to keep him company. After a few minutes' talk she began to sing very softly and quietly. She sang songs that her Nanna had often sung when she wanted to lull the maiden to sleep. The weary rogue was not immune to their almost mystic powers. Soon, his chin lay on his chest; his breathing slow and steady.
The moment she was certain he was asleep, Gwendolyn rose and crept silently to where she had laid her horse's bridle. As she picked it up, it made a slight clang. Her blood froze within her. For a minute, she stood as still as stone; her heart pounding withi
n her chest. Thank the Eilian, no one moved. She crept over to her horse and rubbed its face gently before slipping the bit into its mouth. Tonight, she would ride without a saddle. The slightest noise might rouse the whole camp. If this chance was lost, it was likely she would never get another.
Gwendolyn led the beast slowly and silently out of camp before leaping up on its back. She was exhausted and sore, but the thought of escape forced her weary limbs to move. She wouldn't stop riding until she was safe. If she could find another living soul in these parts, it was likely they would be willing to help her. As she sat considering which direction to take, she heard a noise from the camp. Barlan's booming voice was crying her name. There was no time left for thought. She would go wherever fate led her. With a firm kick, she sent her horse galloping quickly off into the night. If they wanted her, they would have to catch her!
Chapter 3: Hunters and the Hunted
The last rays of the setting sun had vanished hours before, leaving the world wrapped in the pale embrace of the rising twin moons. Their gentle light painted the countryside in shades of silver. Trees that seemed cast of that precious metal dotted the countryside, their long shadows stretching out as if in reverence to the queens of the night. The music of countless insects filled the cool, still air which was sweetly scented by those shy blossoms that will only open after the sun has set.
Five companions rode swiftly and silently over the hills and through the valleys that stood before the mountains beyond the outskirts of Mikral. Darian silently thanked the Eilian for their providence. He felt certain that no human eye could follow the trail left by the fleeing kidnappers with the speed and unfailing accuracy of the fair elvish ranger who was, at the moment, leading the party in its pursuit. She had been sent to aid him before he had even known he was in need of her skills. A smile spread across the young knight's face. He had done the right thing; she was meant to travel with him.
Erana drew gently on the reigns, bringing her mount to a halt at the edge of a small stream.
The Stars of Areon (The Chronicles of Areon Book 1) Page 5
