Search for Audric

by Richard S. Tuttle

  "Will it be only the one then?" she asked.

  "Well," Kerzi said hesitantly. "I am a talker, and I feel as if I am intruding here. I don't want to upset you."

  "You're not upsetting me," the woman quickly replied. "I enjoy company while I am working."

  "No, I understand completely, believe me," Kerzi responded. "I can well imagine your reticence to talk about others."

  "Good," smiled the woman. "Nothing good comes from gossip."

  Kerzi finished his ale and picked up the silver piece. He walked over to the woman and handed it to her.

  "Best we settle accounts," Kerzi smiled. "I wanted to see the village that Jared came to, and I have done that. I best be on my way."

  "Jared?" gasped the woman. "You knew the lad?"

  "Knew him?" questioned Kerzi. "I know him. Why do you speak of him in past tense?"

  "He is dead," answered the woman as her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "He died a year ago. What game are you playing at?"

  "The lad is not dead," Kerzi responded. "That might be what his father says, but Jared merely ran away."

  "Why would he do such a thing?" the woman shook her head. "He was always such a happy lad, and he adored his father. I don't believe you."

  "It is a sad story," sighed Kerzi, "but you know how children get confused at times. The truth is, I found Jared on my last trip trough Salacia. He said he had been on the road for over a year. The whole purpose of my trip is to try to reunite the lad with his father. I thought coming here might lead me to him."

  "I told you the lad was not dead," came a low voice from the rear door of the building.

  Kerzi looked up and saw a large man standing in the doorway. Kerzi figured he was the husband and nodded to the man.

  "He was seen on the Koar-Anatar Road days after the old man said he had died," continued the husband. "I never believed the old hermit's tale."

  "Are you sure it is Jared?" the woman asked.

  "It is the name that he gave me," answered Kerzi, "and he is the one who told me about this village. He used to come here to get fruits and vegetables for his father. He also said that his father fixed things for people of this village. Could it be anyone other than Jared that I was talking to?"

  "No," smiled the woman. "I am so thankful that he is alive. He was such a sweet young man."

  "You won't ever find his father," declared the husband. "The man sneaks around so much that even the squirrels can't follow him. He leaves this village in a different direction every time he comes."

  "Just knowing that the man still lives is enough for me to continue looking," smiled Kerzi. "Have you seen him recently?"

  "Yesterday," nodded the woman. "He doesn't come as often as Jared did. We may not see him again for weeks. Where is the boy?"

  "He is staying with friends," answered Kerzi as he reached into his pouch and pulled out a gold coin. He pressed it into the woman's hands.

  "If he comes in again," Kerzi said, "tell him that Jared loves him very much and wants to come back to him."

  The woman stared at the gold coin as Kerzi turned to leave the shop. The husband moved forward to see what she had received.

  "Bless you, Kerzi," the woman called after him. "You take good care of that lad."

  Kerzi left the shop and moved quickly out of the town. He met up with Horst and mounted his horse.

  "Jared's father is alive," he declared. "The man told the shopkeepers that his son died a year ago. He was in town yesterday and won't be back for weeks, if at all."

  "I wonder how the lad will take this news?" frowned Horst. "It is not an uplifting thing to be rejected by your father."

  "I won't be the one to tell him," stated Kerzi.

  * * *

  The Salacian prince followed the trail along the edge of the stream until it suddenly stopped. The footprints led into the stream as if the father had intended to cross it or walk along in the water for a pace to make tracking him more difficult. A less-skilled tracker would have fallen for that trick, but Prince Derri noticed something out of place. There was a small clump of damp sand resting in the depression of one of the early footsteps. It was smaller than the fingernail of his smallest finger, and Prince Derri stooped to examine it.

  The clump had made a depression in the already-compacted sand, and the tracker knew that it had fallen from some height. Prince Derri's eyes rose to examine the cliff face. He smiled as he saw the path the father had taken. Small already-dried drip stains of sandy water marked the path upward. Prince Derri stepped into the creek and grabbed the small overhang. He was easily able to lift his feet onto a small ledge and follow the trail to the top of the cliff.

  Prince Derri paused at the top of the cliff and gazed around to get his bearings. He had been following the father's trail for hours, and he was beginning to have profound respect for the man. In fact, Prince Derri was sure that the only reason he was still on the father's trail was because of that respect. The father had used every trick in the book to lose a tracker, and Prince Derri had refused to take any of the bait. He stopped and examined each turning point with careful study for all possibilities, not just the most obvious ones. This time was no different.

  The area right at the top of the path had been deliberately brushed to remove prints. The brushing was not obvious, unless you were positive that your man had come this way. The intent was to lead one to think he was following a false trail and make him turn around. Prince Derri was not turning around. He looked along the very edges of the cliff to see if anyone could have moved away from this spot by walking on the rim. There was no evidence of that, and Prince Derri gazed up in the trees that grew right to the edge. The trees had a flaky bark, and there was no sign of anyone climbing the trunk. The lowest branches were too high to reach. It looked very much like a tracker's dead end.

  The Salacian tracker scoured the area away from the rim looking for any signs of recent activity. He found nothing and returned to the edge of the cliff. He gazed up in the tree again and made his mind up to climb the tree. He hugged the tree and worked his way up the trunk sending showers of flaky bark downward. When he reached the first branch, he pulled himself onto it and rested. After a few minutes he stood up and gazed further up the tree. That was when he saw the rope coiled on an upper branch. He quickly climbed upward and studied the rope. He smiled broadly to himself. The rope was obviously lowered whenever the father needed to use the alcove. It was clever indeed, but it was also a liability when your tracker knew about it. Kenra now knew that the father would be camping in the alcove only when the rope was lowered. He mentally filed that information away and looked to see where the man had gone next.

  The large limbs of the old trees ran in every direction. They intertwined with the branches of the other trees and made for a thousand paths that the father could have taken without setting foot on the ground. Kenra sighed in frustration.

  * * *

  Gunnar rode slowly through the forest. He kept his eyes on the surface of the trail, but also watched for the edge of the gorge off to his left. He knew that sooner or later he needed to veer to the left to meet up with Prince Derri, but he did not have a good feel for when to make that turn. As long as the gorge remained close by, he could always shout for his friend, but that would only be an act of desperation when he had given up hope of finding him any other way.

  The Arin prince came to an intersection of trails and halted. There were fresh horse droppings on the trail, and he dismounted and examined the tracks made by the recent riders. He noted four distinct tracks and remounted. He followed the same trail the four men had taken, but he now also watched the distance in front of him. He did not want to ride up behind the other riders and be noticed.

  Gunnar followed the trail for another hour until he stopped again. The sun was declining and daylight would soon turn to night. The tracks he had been following split up with two men going to the right and two men to the left. He had a decision to make. The gorge was still off to the left, and that is whe
re he should go, but he was extremely curious about the riders he had been following. There were only two reasons he could see for the group to split up. Either they were going different places and this was where they needed to part company, or they were in the process of surrounding something. It was the second option that disturbed him greatly. He had no rational reason for thinking such was the case, but Gunnar instinctively took the right fork. His gut was telling him that a fight awaited him.

  The trail turned sharply, and a broad clearing suddenly appeared. A wide field of brambles covered the clearing, and Gunnar saw the two riders off in the distance. His eyes scanned the entire clearing, and he could not see anything that would interest them, but the two men had dismounted. Gunnar kept moving along the trail that curved around the large bramble patch. As he got closer to the men, he urged his horse into the trees on the right side of the path. He untied Prince Derri's horse from his saddle and tied it to a tree. He then tied his horse and moved forward on foot.

  The two men were intently watching the center of the field of brambles, but Gunnar still could not see anything of interest. He continued to sneak up on the men as he stayed within the woods. When he finally came up behind them, he peered past them. Far out in the center of the brambles was a depression of some type. A narrow winding path led through the brambles from the depression to the far side of the clearing where the other two men were standing. Gunnar nodded as he realized that the men were indeed surrounding something, but he could not tell what or who. What was stranger was the fact that there was no trail through the brambles on this side of the clearing. He wondered what the two closest men were there for.

  Gunnar moved a little nearer and saw a hole in the ground near the feet of the two closer men. The tunnel entrance was practically concealed by the brambles, and Gunnar doubted if he would have seen it had he been merely riding by.

  The two distant men began moving along the winding path through the brambles, and the closer men drew their swords. Gunnar saw a head pop up in the depression in the center of the brambles, and the two distant men shouted with excitement. He did not hear their words, but the closer men must have.

  "The rat's coming this way," one of the men laughed. "I've waited a long time for this."

  "Don't spend your gold yet," scowled the other man. "He has escaped us many times in the past."

  "Not this time," snarled the first man. "He has nowhere to go."

  Gunnar began to get a clear idea of what was going on, but he did not know who the bounty hunters were after. He would not interfere with the capture of a criminal, but there was a chance that it could be Jared's father that they were after. More shouting came from across the brambles, and curses flew from the nearby men.

  "Who is that?" snarled one of the men.

  "I have no idea," replied the other man, "but his sword is drawn. Do we help with their fight or bag the old man?"

  "You can go help them if you want," laughed the first man. "I am staying here to get my bounty."

  "It's only one man," the other replied. "They can handle him."

  Gunnar moved to get a better view of what was happening. His eyes widened as he saw Prince Derri racing through the brambles with his sword held high. The distant two men turned to fight him, and Gunnar knew that it was Jared's father in the tunnel crawling towards him. He drew his sword and moved stealthily towards the trail.

  "Here he comes," one of the men said softly. "I can hear him crawling."

  "So can I," Gunnar said sharply as he stepped out onto the trail. "Who is it that you are hunting?"

  "Stay out of this," snarled one of the men. "We've hunted this criminal for years, and we are not splitting the gold with a newcomer."

  "I am not asking for gold," Gunnar replied steadily. "I asked who it was."

  The two men looked at each other and then suddenly charged Gunnar in unison. The Arin prince jumped back as the men slashed out with their swords. As they once again moved to attack in unison, Gunnar sidestepped to his right, which thwarted the leftmost man's swing. He met the other man's swing with a steady block and pushed hard at his opponent. The man stumbled back a step and knocked into his partner. Gunnar did not hesitate. He brought his two-handed sword down sharply, slicing into the man's left shoulder. The man tried to move back another step, but he could not. His partner was trying to move forward to help with the battle.

  Gunnar pulled back his sword and swiftly plunged it forward into the man's chest. Gunnar pulled his sword out of the body and instinctively leaped backwards. The sudden move saved his life as the second man's sword sliced through the air where Gunnar had just been standing. Gunnar struck before the man could recover from his swing. He slashed out with his long sword and cut the underside of the man's arm as he was preparing another blow. The strike nearly severed the arm, and the man's sword fell from his hand, but Gunnar was already into his next move. The prince's sword sliced into his opponent's neck, and the man's body tumbled on top of his useless sword.

  Gunnar rushed towards the tunnel exit just as an old man was crawling out of it. The man saw boots approaching and tried to wiggle back into the tunnel, but Gunnar dropped his sword and dove for the tunnel. He reached in and grabbed the man's tunic. The man struggled to break away, but Gunnar overpowered the old man. With a steady pull, he dragged the old man out of the tunnel. The man tried to break free, apparently not realizing that he had just been saved. Gunnar wanted desperately to make sure that Prince Derri was alright, but the man wouldn't stop fighting with him. Gunnar rose and dragged the old man to his feet.

  "Stop fighting," snapped the Arin prince. "I am not going to hurt you."

  Gunnar peered across the brambles and could see two bodies, but he could not identify them, and he could not see the third man. The sky was already beginning to darken.

  "Kenra!" shouted Gunnar. "Can you hear me?"

  The old man continued to struggle, and Gunnar could not hear any reply. He was concerned that an enemy would emerge from the tunnel and he would be occupied holding the panicked old man.

  "If you don't stop struggling," Gunnar said sharply, "I am going to have to knock you out so I can defend myself and you. That will not make Jared happy."

  The old man immediately stopped struggling. "What do you know about Jared?" he asked nervously.

  "He is my friend," Gunnar replied. "Now be quiet so I can tell who is coming through this tunnel after you."

  "Gunnar?" came a distant voice.

  "Kenra!" Gunnar shouted with a broad smile on his face. "Come on out."

  "You know him?" the old man asked softly.

  "He is also a friend," nodded Gunnar. "I was not sure if he had managed to kill the other two bounty hunters or not. I had to know who was coming."

  Prince Derri crawled out of the hole and looked around. He saw the bodies of the two bounty hunters and rose to his feet.

  "Is he Jared's father?" asked the Salacian tracker.

  "He is," nodded Gunnar. "See what you can find on the bodies. I am afraid to let go of our friend for fear he will run again."

  "If you are truly Jared's friends," the old man said, "you will just let me go."

  "We do not plan to harm you," Gunnar said calmly, "but you will not be allowed to leave until you have answered some questions to my satisfaction. Who are you?"

  "I will answer nothing," the old man said defiantly.

  Kenra approached holding two pieces of paper he held them out so that only Gunnar could see them. One was the image of the Arin prince, and the other was an old drawing that looked quite similar to the old man they were holding prisoner. Gunnar nodded that he had seen the pictures and Kenra folded them up and put them in his pouch.

  "There was little else on the bodies," the Salacian prince said.

  "The men were bounty hunters," Gunnar replied. "I heard these two talking. They have been after this old man for years."

  "I can believe that," nodded Kenra as he wiped the dirt off his clothes. "This old man is a tracker's
nightmare. I have learned quite a few tricks today following his trail. I particularly like the rope in the tree at the top of the cliff. That is one that I will always remember."

  "I was in a hurry," shrugged the old man, "or you would never have found me."

  "These other men found you," Gunnar pointed out. "I followed their track, and they knew exactly where they were going. They split quite a ways back to be in position on both ends of your tunnel."

  "I have done this for too many years," sighed the old man. "Good tricks should only be used once, not over and over again."

  "I do not know what you have done, Zalman," Gunnar said, "but I can protect you if you are innocent."

  "So you know who I am," sighed the old man. "Just kill me and be done with it. I am too tired to continue any longer."

  "Don't you even care about Jared any more?" scowled Gunnar.

  "How could I not care about my son?" snapped Zalman. "What kind of question is that? I love my son dearly, but I will not have him suffer because of me. He is far better off if I am dead. Why did you have to come looking for me and spoil his ignorance?"

  "Let's take him back to the camp," suggested Kenra. "Maybe Jared can get him to talk."

  "No," shouted Zalman. "Tell him that I am dead."

  "I cannot lie to him," Gunnar shook his head.

  "Then kill me and then tell him that I am dead," retorted Zalman. "I beg of you, do not destroy his life."

  Chapter 29

  Memories

  Gunnar and Kenra took Jared's father to where the Arin prince had left the horses. They sat in a small clearing away from the trail as the sky began to darken.

  "I do not understand you," the Arin prince said to Jared's father. "What is it about your life that endangers Jared?"

  "I am Zalman," sighed the old man. "Does that name mean nothing to you?"

  "Nothing," shrugged Gunnar. "Is it supposed to?"

  "It must," scowled Zalman. "You knew my name when you seized me. Why do you lie?"

  "I did not know your name," Gunnar corrected the man. "It was on the poster my friend took off the bodies. Show him what you showed me, Kenra."