by H. A. Harvey
“As you wish.” She nodded, “Nian and I were talking while we did some light fencing practice and it came up how he’d managed to get a good count in the distance by starlight. They moved in groups of six, and were mounted. Alone, either is suspicious, together, they aren’t slavers, but Baedite military, and elite. In Noorwood, we fight constantly to keep the pillagers out of our forest. Baeden units fight in teams of six almost like it’s a divine covenant. As for the horses, easy to miss if you’re Tyrian, where a farmer who can’t afford to keep hogs has a brace of good horses working his fields. The Baeden Mountains don’t have much to speak of in the way of pastures, and what flat lands they have are needed for food production. A man with a horse is rare and wealthy there. A group of thirty horses? Only a Baron could supply that, and wouldn’t do so for raw troops.”
“But why send a group like that to Longmyst?” Rowan asked.
“Chaos.” Nian said mostly to himself, but noticed everyone had paused to look at him. He blushed a little and elaborated, “Ah, well, it might be. I mean, Longmyst is a quiet town, but David’s family is wealthy for a reason. The whole Spireward edge of Tyre relies on it when you get down to things. From the Gateward edges of Lone Wood nearly out to the coast, food and lumber pretty much come from Longmyst exclusively, and the Dwarves of Caer Dunan are the closest friendly source of steel tools and weapons, which they float down to the lumber camp to trade.”
“The fires!” Rowan almost leapt to his feet in realization, “We thought they had been distractions to buy the slavers time to get away. They burnt the tavern, which doubles as the town’s registry, where farmers and other merchants come to see what orders need to be filled from the outside. They also set fire to the stables, mill, lumber dock and grain silos.”
Nian nodded, “Longmyst won’t be able to support Deepwood or Highkeep at least until the fall harvest, and most of that will be needed to keep people from starving by then.”
“And,” Kolel chimed in, “by making it seem like slavers had raided the town, the lord in Highkeep will have patrols out scouring the countryside for ghosts while Earl Cirrus is expecting reinforcements. I am guessing intercepting the missive to Highkeep was the first target of this group we are following.”
“Wait,” Nian paused, a bit confused, “How did they even know there was a missive?”
“Deepwood has a traitor.” Ellia stated flatly, “It’s no surprise. Civilized nobility plays games with each other’s lives during peacetime. They call it intrigue. I think they are just fighting off boredom until they can get an excuse to go to war and kill off each other’s common folk.”
“Whatever the game,” Ulif concluded, “the only change to our task is that we will be fighting a stronger foe than we expected on the morrow, and that we have to be quick. If the slaves were a ruse, they may decide to shed themselves of the weight at any moment.”
Kolel laid a calming hand on Nian’s shoulder even as he started to rise, “For that, we will have to trust in Kadia, and the greed of the Baron who sent them. Slaves are a valuable commodity, and the thing about men with great wealth, they always want more. We will keep going in the Hope we will find the captives alive, imagining otherwise at this point will only weaken resolve we will need soon enough. Get some rest, my friend, in the morning we will begin the end of this hunt.”
. . .
“Karen, stop it!” Adrienne whispered insistently. “You’re going to get us all killed.”
Karen ignored her friend and kept working at the nail, pressing it first to one side, then the other for several seconds at a time before tugging sharply on the broad head. It was slow going, and the difference with each pull was almost imperceptible, but ever so gradually, the wood around the nail released a little more of its grasp and the nail worked its way out. She knew it was working, since she could get half a finger under the head, where at sunrise she had needed to dig with her nails into the wood to get purchase. She already had one nail out of the board and had slipped it into her apron pocket with her little doll.
“Addy,” She finally whispered, “You’ll be fine. I’m not waiting around here until we get sold off somewhere. If you want to stay, you don’t have to run when I do. They’re keeping us in the wagon because of our looks. That means three things. One, we’re valuable, and if they catch me doing something, they’re not going to damage you and cost themselves money. Two, they think because we’re in party dresses that we’re useless, and aren’t watching us as close as the ones walking. And three, I don’t care what happens once I get this board loose, it’ll be better than what we get sold for at the end of this ride.”
Adrienne slumped back against the far wall between Kelly and Riona, one of the barmaids David’s family had hired from out of town. There was more room now, one of the men had woken up and been taken out to join those on the chain. Karen hadn’t recognized him. Likely a guest that night at the inn. The other man, a butcher from the Gateward edge of town, had broken his leg badly in the struggle. When the bone jutting out of his leg started to reek of rot, their captors had drug him out and dumped him in a river as they passed. Karen couldn’t for the life of her remember his name. Nian would have, he knew everyone. It had never seemed important to her to remember the name of every face around town, they were always there and never changed. Except now, they weren’t.
Karen looked sadly at her closest friend as she, in turn, stared disapprovingly at Karen’s fingers, still working diligently despite blisters and cuts from her efforts so far. Karen wished Adrienne could understand, she had to do something. She had to try. Karen paused briefly to draw her doll out of her pocket. The leaves were healing, but the little girl’s gown was currently all but gone. Karen plucked the flower hat from her head and dropped it through the crack.
“I miss Nathan.” Adrienne finally said softly, her eyes now on David, settled in on Karen’s lap.
Karen’s resolve suddenly faltered. Nathan was Adrienne’s husband. He had left the party early with their young son, Christopher. She suddenly felt a wash of guilt, remembering she had coaxed Adrienne into remaining just a bit longer to keep her company. But looking at her friend, she saw no accusation in her face, only longing. She imagined what must be going through her friend’s mind; things left unsaid, touches that could have lingered longer.
“You have to keep trying, Addy, and we’ll see them again. It’s a blessing they aren’t here.” Karen paused and bent down to kiss David before murmuring, “I love you, David.”
The healing line had barely passed over the little flower when the wagon ground to a halt. The driver called ahead to his companions that the horses needed a rest. The other slavers trickled back to the wagon and began making camp, locking the end of the captive chain to a large tree on the far side of the camp. Karen scanned the motley prisoners, hoping to make out someone she knew. Most nights, the prisoners were chained ahead of the wagon, so this was her first opportunity to be certain her brother hadn’t been captured. Some looked familiar, but everyone was so dirty and bedraggled that it was hard to be certain. Still, she could tell that none of the men were Nian’s build. He’d been a late bloomer and had only recently passed her in height.
However, her relief was cut short when she recognized one of the women on the chain. Talitha, her mother stood leaning against a tree in exhaustion. Her peppered black hair hung down in a dilapidated mess, rather than the bun it always rode in, but the dress Karen knew well, even torn and dirty. Karen had spent weeks in secret doing extra chores for others throughout town and taking every extra run she could manage to get material to ‘look presentable’ for the big wedding. The two of them had spent every evening for a week before the party getting the two gowns, her bridal gown and her mother’s, just right so they looked like inverse-colored twins. Her mother had laughed at the idea at first, claiming her frumpy old form would ruin everything, but Karen had thought she looked like a queen in the finished dress.
/> Once the slavers had largely settled in and eaten, a bowl of boiled herbs was brought to the wagon for the prisoners to pass between them. Karen waited to last, and fed her share to David. He had woken some hours before, but was still too weak to stand. Bridgette had helped her keep him still to avoid the guards noticing he was conscious. She passed the bowl back to the slaver who stood waiting for its return and caught sight of the group’s leader striding out to the edge of the firelight to meet a gristly looking fellow coming from ahead of the wagon.
The leader, the others called him Captain and nothing else, was easy to note despite the similar garb of most of the slavers. He had been the one Bridgette’s sister Sarai went after, and the left side of his face bore an angry, infected memorial to the girl’s brave defiance. The other, Karen had overheard being called Kellin, and she could tell by his garb that he was their scout even if they hadn’t made it obvious no one else knew how to get a wagon through the forest. Unlike the others, he wore no armor, and a waist-length mantle of wolf-fur, the beast’s head kept intact to form a disturbing sort of brooch clasp over his shoulder.
“You were out a ways.” The captain stated as he passed a bowl and crust of bread to Kellin. “We’ve been stopped for near-on two hours now.”
Kellin nodded as he drew a strip of jerked meat from his belt pouch, dipping it in the broth before tearing off a bite. “Aye, I ran ahead a pace to check our path to the road. It’s clear straight through, we’ll be there by midday tomorrow. The old man’s there, eager to get his wagon back. He wasn’t happy that the count’s one shy, but he’ll take what we’ve got. We’ll move faster without the blasted thing anyway. He’s got a rested team of horses waiting to swap over.”
“He can suck rocks. We’ll take the price of the extra girl out of Darun’s pay. He’s the idiot that let a boy with an apple branch set her loose in the first place.” The captain spoke loudly and with his head facing the fire. He spat at the ground and turned back to Kellin as a small cluster of men by the fire laughed and shoved one of their number about mockingly. “I’ll just be glad when . . . what are you looking at?”
The scout was looking away from the captain, chewing idly as he stared at something along the edge of the firelight. Without speaking, he set his bowl on a stone at the two men’s feet and walked over to the edge of the light. There, he crouched by a small, purple flower. Karen cursed inwardly and sunk back down in the wagon, keeping an eye on the men from the shadows.
“Never took you for the flower pickin’ sort, Kel.” The captain chuckled as he stalked over to stand by his friend, “If you’ve a girl to impress, you might want to pick a different one, that things half wilted.”
“That’s because the night air is too cold,” Kellin explained, ignoring the jest, “This is roper’s vine, it shouldn’t even take root around here. You! Light a torch in the fire and come with me, but keep it at my back.”
The captain’s laughter faded and he nodded to the man Kellin had shouted at. The three wandered back along the clearing they had crossed until their torch was about all Karen could make out. Eventually the light grew again and the men strode swiftly back into the campsite. The little man who normally rode atop the wagon walked up to meet them.
“What’s wrong?” He asked.
“This.” Kellin tossed a fistful of dirt and plants at him. “Someone has been using your little magic trick to leave roper’s vine every few hundred feet. A drunken woodcutter could track us.”
The captain glared about the camp angrily, and it wasn’t long until his eyes fell on the wagon. At his bellowed command, a half-dozen slavers leapt to the back of the wagon, unlocking the cage and dragging the occupants out into the circle of firelight. The men held David and the girls fast while their leader began to search. He held Bridgette by the throat as he frisked her roughly, leaving her gasping for air. Finding nothing, he cuffed her across the jaw before moving on to Riona.
“Wait, wait!” Riona pleaded suddenly, nodding toward Karen, “She has it . . . in her apron.”
Adrienne hissed at Riona angrily and Kelly who stood closest tried in vain to kick at her. The captain stalked over to Karen, giving Kelly a heavy slap as he passed, leaving her limp in the arms of her captors. He stopped in front of Karen and tore the pocket from the front of her apron with the doll inside. Her nail fell to the dust unnoticed. The captain examined the little doll angrily before nodding to the man holding Karen.
Released from the slaver’s vice-like grip, Karen stood defiantly in front of the captain. Sure that she was about to join Bridgette’s sister, she saw little use in begging. Instead, she decided to leave her own mark and sprang forward to claw at his wounded face. The man must have been expecting just that reaction, for his arm shot up, sinking his fist deep into the high part of her gut, knocking the wind from her and sending her to her knees.
“Karen!” A familiar voice shouted her name from those still chained in the shadows.
David managed to shake free of the men holding him and stagger forward, only to be pushed down roughly by the captain. The man sneered, made to look all the more unpleasant with the seeping wound on his face.
“You tried that already, remember?” He jeered down at David, “Perhaps not, more than one across the head, as I recall. But what was that out here? Bring her over.”
Two more men unshackled Karen’s mother and drug her forward into the light. David’s guard kneeled on his back to pin him down, though he needn’t have, for David had used every bit of his strength to break free once. At the captain’s signal, the man behind her again grabbed Karen, wrenching her arm behind her back and holding her upright on her knees by the hair. The captain tossed the doll into the campfire before he walked over and lifted Talitha’s chin, looking between her face and Karen’s in mocked fascination.
“Look at this. . .you know, I’d have to say there’s quite a resemblance here.” The captain pulled his iron-shod club from its hanger on his belt, swinging it idly by the tether. “It must be nice, knowing so many people are concerned for your health. A shame you don’t return the favor. What an ungrateful girl.”
“Please. . .please don’t.” Karen begged, her eyes locked on her mother’s as Talitha smiled back, a calm, comforting look on her face that reminded Karen of when she was sick as a child. “No. . .”
The captain strode idly in a circle around her mother, still spinning his club idly. “You won’t stir up any more trouble, or find some other way to leave pebbles or teardrops on our path?”
“I won’t I swear.” Karen sobbed in terror.
“I don’t believe you.”
The captain spun and struck Talitha across the back with such force that Karen heard the snap of bone as she was jerked forward out of the slaver’s arms. Karen screamed and tried to rise, then look away, but was foiled at every turn by the slaver’s cruel grip. The iron-shod club descended again and again until well after Talitha had ceased to react to the blows. The captain strode over and turned Karen’s limp head to face him with the bloody end of his cudgel.
“If you were thinking you were too valuable to hurt without good reason, you’re right. But, while no one on that chain is worth more than a handful of copper bits to me, I’d wager you know every last one, and they know you. By dawn, you won’t be my problem anymore, but if I have any more trouble from you, I’ll start sending them to meet with her, starting with your boy hero here.” The captain nodded to David, “Take him, if he can walk enough to try and fight back, he goes on the line. When he can’t walk, cut his corpse off the chain. As for the rest, strip them to the skin and burn the dresses. I tire of knives and dolls coming out of nowhere. Then load them in the wagon and chain their hands to the bars, except the conscientious one there, give her a cloak. Spring nights can get cold in the mountains.”
“I’ll kill you.” David muttered as they drug him out of the firelight. The captain scoffed and waved to the other slav
ers, who began tearing the women’s dresses from them and bundling them into the flames. All the captives remained in a stunned silence. The spectacle seemed to have turned the stomachs of even a few of the slavers, and those who loaded Karen’s limp form into the wagon did so with almost reverent care. Less than ten minutes passed from the outset of the spectacle to when they were once again rolling slowly through the forest.
“I had to say something.” Riona finally broke the silence softly, pulling the cloak tighter around her bare shoulders. “They were going to find it anyway, and probably kill us all. I didn’t know he wou-“
She was cut off as Bridgette, sitting chained next to her, spit squarely into her eyes. Riona shrank back to the front of the wagon, sitting in silence as the starlight glinted off the eyes of the other girls, all glaring into her shadowy hole with cold malice. All except for Karen, who lay limp along the floor of the wagon, staring blankly back at the campfire, still burning high with the fabric of their dresses and lighting the still form alone in the circle.
After the wagon rolled a few yards, Riona scooted forward again. She gingerly draped the cloak over Karen before sitting back down by Bridgette. Her fingers felt around on the darkened floor until they found the loosened nail. She murmured without moving her head, “I deserved that . . . and more, but I’ll make it right.”
6
The Wild Run
Rowan-Willow dashed across the field with Ikoz hovering along just behind him, careful not to pass the boy and foul any tracks. Nian, Ellia, and Ulif were close behind with the rest of the mercenaries trailing. Both Rowan and Ikoz pulled up short at the edge of the camp site in the trees beyond the field. Rowan turned as Nian caught up, stepping directly in front of his friend’s path. Nian had never seen such a blank expression on his friend’s face.
