by LeRoy Clary
Shell gently placed an arm around the wolf’s neck and pulled her closer to him. In a soft voice intended for the others to hear as well, he said, “Thank you.”
The wolf raised a paw and placed it on Shell’s shoulder. They stayed like that for a short while, communicating as two friends in a way no one else could hear or understand. Shell provided a mental image of the wolf exploring the area around the cabin. She turned and entered the deep shadows under the trees and disappeared.
Knowing he had a lot of explaining to do, he stood and faced the other two. Both seemed ready to flee if he so much as sneezed. They needed time to understand the wolf had saved Camilla’s life. The carnage of two dead men was the price paid for her. They were shaken, scared, and hadn’t had time to rationalize it, especially with the men still in sight. He would bury them soon but needed to make sure all were safe. “I’ll go search the cabin.”
He cautiously threw open the plank door, half in fear that there still might be someone else inside, even if the wolf said no. The last thing he wanted to do right now was to call the wolf back into the clearing and upset them again. If she showed itself, Camilla and Henry would probably take off for Fleming, and he didn’t know if he could catch up with them.
No one was in the cabin. However, it was full of other things. There were piles of assorted clothing, a table laden with knives, two swords, and at least six or seven blankets tossed around the room. But it was the boots and shoes that told the story. More than twenty shoes of different sizes and fashion lay together in a pile. Some were men’s. Others women’s. Large, small, almost new, others so old they were ragged. None looked like they would fit either of the dead men.
Henry said, from right behind him, “What is this place?”
Camilla still stood in the yard in the same place, as if her legs didn’t work. She said, “They kill and steal.”
“Why do they kill?” Henry asked, his voice hushed and hoarse.
“They like to. And they want the women. But most of all, they talked about torture; what they did to people. They laughed about it. When their enjoyment was over, they killed them and laughed some more.”
Henry said, “And they wanted to steal? That’s why they did this?”
“No,” she said. “They liked to torture and kill. The stealing was just taking what’s left over.” She turned and took a couple of tentative steps towards the cabin.
“You probably don’t want to look in here,” Shell said.
She came to stand at his side, anyhow. He watched her eyes, and for any sign of weakness or that she might collapse at the devastation inside. She said, speaking to nobody in particular, “So many blankets and shirts everywhere. That table is full of knives and nothing else.”
He watched her eyes alight on the shoes and her knees went weak. Shell grabbed and steadied her before she fell, then half-carried her to the far end of the meadow and gently sat her down on the grass. He went to the first dead man and searched him for any clues of his identity. Inside his waistband, he found a knife with a gold jeweled hilt, a red ruby at the butt, a row of smaller ones set in the handle.
The other man wore a knife plain as the other was gaudy, but at least as expensive. The blade bore the unmistakable marks of quality workmanship, not a pit or spot of rust on the metal. The plain blackwood handle fit him perfectly, but he placed it on the ground with the other knife as he continued searching their bodies. Finding nothing else of interest, he said, “Henry, give me a hand dragging these two off into the bushes.”
Henry said, pulling one foot as Shell took the other. “Let’s take them way out there. I don’t want them close to here.”
When they had dragged both men far from the hut, they returned, Henry went to the stream with the bucket and splashed the water to wash the blood from the grass. It took him three trips. Camilla stood on wobbly legs and waved off any help. Shell was not sure what to do for her but expected she would let him know if she wanted, or needed him.
She said, “I’m kind of weak. I haven’t eaten in three days, not that I could eat something now, I’m just explaining why I’m like this.”
“I see,” Shell said, ignoring her lie about why she was weak, and understanding why she said it. Coming so close to death had to tear at her mind, and then seeing the lives ripped from her attackers by a wolf and thinking she was going to be killed next, must have terrified her. Instead of being critical, he wondered how he would have fared in similar circumstances. He would not have done as well. Not even close.
She turned to Henry with a limp smile. “We haven’t met. I hope Shell didn’t do that to your face. It looks awful.”
“Henry,” he said, sounding proud of the name as he used it for the first time to introduce himself. “He saved me.” Then he turned to Shell and continued in a dull voice, “We have lots to talk about.”
Shell smiled weakly as he reached out and touched the mind of the wolf for comfort. It had already made a complete circle around the cabin but avoided one area. The wolf passed the information to Shell that the stench of rotting flesh was too much in one place for the sensitive nose of the wolf. The stench lay to the east, where a gully cut through the ground, and probably ran deep with snowmelt in the spring.
But Shell now knew where the bodies that had worn the shoes were located, victims from months or years ago. He fought an impulse to try and fit the proper shoes on each corpse, but understood in advance, there was no way to tell, even if his nose and eyes allowed him to get within a hundred steps of the place.
He said, “It’s getting dark. Why don’t we build a fire here in the yard and leave early in the morning?”
“Can’t we leave?” Henry asked.
Shell shook his head. There were too many unanswered questions, too many things to learn. Beside the dead in the gulley, there were the friends, associates, and relatives of them that needed answers.
Camilla said, “You two build a fire. I have things to do.”
Shell raised his eyebrows at her, not sure what she meant.
“Inside the cabin may be articles that will help identify the poor people those two killed. We might be able to find something and use it to locate the families, or at least, some of them.”
“What sort of things?” Shell asked.
“Letters, diaries, names engraved on blades, and things like that. We owe it to the survivors to at least try.”
“Call out if you need me,” Shell said, sensing that she wanted to do the chore alone, and puzzled by it. Did she just need a few minutes alone, or was she trying to find a reason for the actions of the two men? A way to understand the depravity? Did she hope to resolve it for the families, as she said? Or for her, almost another victim. Probably the idea that she had almost died here made her more empathetic with those who had. She wanted to help them because she had almost been one of them.
Whatever it was, it didn’t matter. He intended to stay out of her way so she could work her way through the emotions that filled her. Shell also realized he needed some time alone. The odd looks and unasked questions about the wolf from both Henry and Camilla were going to have to be faced soon. He didn’t’ have all the answers, and didn’t know how much to share, especially with Henry present.
Camilla was Dragon Clan, and she should know all, even about the wolf bonding. She would understand at least a portion of what happened, more than the boy. Henry was a different story. But Henry couldn’t be shut out completely. Henry didn’t know about the red dragon because he’d been unconscious when it attacked the farmers and house so that part of the story could be skipped. The actions of the wolf might be explained away, but it would take a tall story, and Henry would not believe it the wolf was a dog, and probably hadn’t from the beginning. He could perhaps tell Henry that he’d found and raised the wolf from a pup and they were used to working together.
That story almost worked. It didn’t explain why he had started running at the end of the trip, just before finding the cabin that stood behind him.
How had he known of the danger to Camilla? How could he explain he knew they were trying to catch up with her? But maybe he could add to the truth, and skimp on details.
His mind selected details and tried to fill in answers, no matter how poor they sounded. What if Shell explained that the wolf had howled, and Shell heard it. That was the signal so he would know to hurry. Perhaps the howls were so far away that Henry hadn’t heard them, but Shell was used to listening for them, and his ears always listened for the wolf. The story was weak, maybe wouldn’t be believed, but it might work if he refined it.
Glancing at the cabin showed a candle or lantern now provided light inside. He saw Camilla hunched over something, then moving from one place to another as she examined the contents. She cleared off a small table and placed it near the door and sat something upon it.
Turning away, Shell found a pile of firewood large enough for three nights, and Henry hurrying to find more. The boy wouldn’t meet his eye. He shifted thoughts to reach out and sense the wolf that was nearing the end of the second concentric ring around the cabin. She again avoided the area where the bodies were tossed and found nothing but a small overgrown road or lane leading west, probably leading to the nearest town or village.
Camilla strode from the cabin, a book held in her hand. She said, “Point me to where you moved the two dead men.”
“You don’t want to go near them.”
“I don’t want to, but will. Where are they?”
Shell pointed.
She followed the drag marks and headed into the forest. He wondered if he should go too, and quickly decided that for now, he needed to stay away from her. Her eyes had flashed, her mouth was set, and she walked like a general at the head of an army, back straight, shoulders square, head up.
He’d seen his mother act similarly during hard times, and because of her actions she now sat at the head of the council, respected by all, and probably feared by some. Camilla surrounded herself with the same sort of reserved confidence as his mother, defying anyone to get between her and the goal.
It wouldn’t be him. A shovel stood against the side of the cabin, a handle with a thick wooden blade. Shell carried it to a place not too close the pile of firewood and scooped out a shallow hole, so the coals and embers didn’t escape and burn down the forest. He set to making a fire, and when he looked up, Camilla had returned, her face pale on the last glow of the day.
She walked to him and nodded her approval at the woodpile and fire pit as she handed him two sheets of paper. “Do those look like the two men?”
The drawings captured the main features of both, but he had no idea of why she’d drawn them. “Yes, very detailed and you’ve managed to catch their likenesses. I’d know them from your picture.”
She nodded, then pointed to the sketch in his right hand. “That one has scars on his forehead and cheek, so he was easy. The other has a nose too big, but if anyone has seen them, they will recognize my drawings, I think. Can you put them in your backpack and make sure they stay dry?”
“I have an oil-skin case for tinder that will keep them.”
She turned and walked to the cabin again, just as Henry came up behind him. Henry said, “She scares me.”
“Me too. But she almost died and is emotional. We’ll give her some time.” He tossed more wood on the fire, placing a few larger pieces on top so they’d burn longer and he wouldn’t have to watch it as closely.
Henry said, his tone flat and even, “Lucky for her your wolf knew when and who to attack.”
Shell turned around to respond, choosing his words carefully, but Henry was walking away gathering more firewood they didn’t need, as he stooped to pick up another branch. Shell turned back to the cabin and watched Camilla from a distance, feeling lost to both of them.
She placed another item on the small table outside and went back to her searching. He wondered at that but decided to let her remain inside if she wished, undisturbed. As darkness overcame them, Henry unrolled a blanket and sat near him, both watching her move from place to place inside.
She had started just inside the door to her right and methodically worked her way around the room, touching and examining everything slowly and with care. Now and then she carried an item to the small table. The cabin was not large, and she had almost finished, when she pulled to a stop, looking up.
“What’s she doing? Henry hissed.
“Don’t know.”
As if she’d heard their private conversation, Camilla turned and motioned as she called, “Come here.”
They looked at each other. She hadn’t specified who should go, so they both leaped to their feet and rushed inside where she stood, pointing. “What’s that look like?”
Following her pointing finger, Shell saw a bump on the center beam of the cabin, far too high to reach, but odd in its placement. The color matched the wood of the beam, but a smooth curve against the rough-hewn beam looked odd.
Henry eagerly pulled the single chair from the corner and stood on the seat while reaching up. At fourteen, this was more of a game, and the grin on his face said he was enjoying it. He slid what appeared to be a wooden bowl nearer to the edge. If it had been pushed a few inches further back, in what was probably its normal resting place, she would not have seen it hidden up there. Only the careless placement revealed the lip of the bowl, larger than Henry’s hand, and he lifted it as if it was very heavy.
When he lowered the bowl by handing it to Shell, the coins inside almost spilled over the side. It was full of coins of every size, color, and metal. Camilla lifted one and read the name stamped on the back, “Demaria.”
Shell found one and read, “Arunta.”
“I’ve never heard of those places,” Henry said. “But look at the pretty woman’s face on this silver one.”
They sorted through the coins, wondering and speculating on the origins, values, and why there were so many different and unusual coins, and from unheard of places. Camilla said, “Travelers. They carry money from their homelands. They have to buy food and supplies while they travel so they carry fat purses.”
Shell wondered if any of the strange names were from across the grasslands where Quester had lived. He said, “The mountain pass, we came through is the link from east to west, I guess. How are we going to return all this? We don’t even know who the people were.”
“Or how long those two have been killing and stealing,” Henry said. “They might have been doing it for years.”
Camilla tossed more of the coins back into the bowl after briefly examining them. She said, “The three of us need to sit and talk. About a lot of things.”
Henry said, “I’ve never seen coins like these, but I haven’t seen many. This is a fortune.”
Shell said, “One of those gold coins would buy your farm. In fact, I sold your farm for a few like those silver ones, and your share of the future crops.”
“That’s so strange to me. A flat, little circle of metal can be traded for a farm or house,” Henry ended with a shrug. “They buy food for a winter. Can you imagine how much that whole bowl will buy?”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The fire in the clearing didn’t take the chill away from the three people who sat around the fire. The cabin stood as a black shadow in the dark, a mute reminder of where they were. All three were quiet as if each waited for another to speak. Shell wanted to avoid what he suspected was about to happen. They would question him about things he couldn’t explain, but saw no way to avoid it. While he hadn’t done anything wrong, the other two were sure to ask about subjects he didn’t feel ready to share, even if he knew all the answers.
But they would need at least some answers. The problem was to decide which, and how little he could say and get away with. His best choice might be to plead ignorance and speak to Camilla alone to form a believable tale, but if he tried, Henry would know.
Camilla said, changing the subject of what the bowl of coins would buy, “There is nothing that I found inside to tell me
who any of the victims were. Not a paper, a name carved into anything, an inscription on the jewelry, or even a slip of paper with a city. It’s like they got rid of anything that might lead to the victims.”
Shell said, “Yes, they probably destroyed anything like that to avoid others accidentally finding out about them. When we leave here in the morning, we should follow the road and see if there’s a person of authority in the nearest village. Maybe word of missing people has reached him, and he can help find the families.”
He saw Camilla glance at Henry before speaking. “That sounds like a good idea, but how do you know there is a road? Besides dragging those men into the trees, you haven’t been out of our sight.”
The tone was sharp, and he resented it. Instead of telling the truth, he waved a hand at the cabin and said, “The builders of that cabin had to come from somewhere. A road is only logical.”
She didn’t believe his weak story, and it showed in her expression. “If we give the money and jewelry to the local sheriff . . . Well, when he cannot locate the rightful owners, he will be a wealthy man. Not all constables and officials are honest, you know.”
“Are you suggesting we keep it?” Shell asked. “And what jewelry are you talking about?”
“Didn’t you notice? On the small table by the door? I put all the valuables there. We should hand them over to a family council when we find one,” she said.
Henry asked, “What’s that?”
Shell turned to Camilla to let her cover up her verbal blunder about mentioning the Dragon Clan family council to an outsider. “The council?” She hesitated as if suddenly understanding that nobody had mentioned Henry being part of the Dragon Clan, and she had not seen his back but must have assumed he was one of them. “Well, some villages have a council instead of a single leader. We should consider giving what we’ve found to them.”
Henry snorted in derision. “I know I’m young and all, but not totally stupid.”
