"Anything?" Mathyss demanded in brusque greeting, returning Kandra's cloth markers.
"Nothing. It concerns me. There is no sign of disturbance, unless it's at the village, or the hamlets further along. What's perplexing is the matter of the small bee farms off the main trail. Their paths are quiet of movement, animal or elvenkind. We are due their harvest; lonninroot is widespread, and they should have gathered it for the alchemists' demands. There's nothing, just as with the barges. Our people are not here." She was even more frustrated, but hid her concern and fears behind the strain of creeping ahead alone. An enviable situation.
"I am uneasy. The farmers are good friends, but you're correct. It's too still, and raiders would have left a sign. Animals would leave spoor and humanoids eventually need to sleep. Rest and drop behind again. Follow us by half an hour and see who, or what follows. It must occur soon. I sense a wrongness. If I had time, I would check every farm and side trail, but that wasn't their patrol route. Our people were to reconnoitre the larger settlements and coast. We must check them as the priority. She would see to that before any homesteads."
"As you wish, Commander, but it's ahead we need to worry over. I feel we missed what passed through here. I don't know what—or how—I can justify it. Something we have yet to encounter spooks the forest." Kandra rose, frustration stifled for the moment, then faded into the red-leafed trees.
Mathyss could slice the tension with his sword, cleave invisible human and elven conflict. Alone with his irrational thoughts, he scowled, feeling perturbed and more powerless. Pushing worries he could not influence aside, he blanked his face and waved his two men forward again to scout ahead, forcing an encouraging smile on his face for their benefit. He had seen the odd looks and the concerned glances among his two men and four women when Kandra was away.
While they spoke nothing aloud, the growing tension could break apart their fragile alliance with both human officers suspecting elven motives. The human woman watched the Elven men and women incessantly. She was even more sceptical, and unlike the seamen, he knew nothing about her motivations and her presence jarred.
Mathyss gave a profound sigh, Kandra was correct. Her sense of the land was superior to his, and everything felt wrong, as though the forest had weathered a storm, unseen and unheard, and they had no tangible evidence of its passing beyond instinct. Suppressing his irritation was becoming a full-time occupation with petty trivialities. He wished he had the answers to their concerns, to salve their fears, elf and human alike.
Inwardly, he knew his leaders erred in their method of capturing the humans. Valindal with his secretive orders might yet doom this alliance. Mathyss knew what the wily old sea elf had prompted, and it made trust and companionship difficult, his command a lie. Who knew, maybe it would take something to challenge their combined skills and form a more companionable bond, forge them in the crucible of conflict.
Mathyss turned, hearing footsteps from the main body. A fleeting glance into the gloom of the dusk-blanketed trail garnered Van Reiver and Dagmar approaching under a dull sky with exaggerated care. He resisted, wincing at each crunch of their feet on drying leaves littering the beaten earth trail. Instead, he forced on a neutral expression, his tensions controlled by years of iron discipline and a supreme effort to follow his leaders' instructions to be polite. The hardest order they had ever given him.
"Anything?" Van Reiver asked, keeping his voice low, echoing Mathyss' earlier question.
"No, it is too quiet; there should be more northbound traffic. I agree with Kandra; I would expect to meet carts and the occasional forager and exchange news."
"No sign of your people, or the villagers?" Van Reiver pressed, studying him.
"No, which is troubling. Let us continue. However, no talking from now, to be prudent."
Van Reiver inclined his head at Dagmar, who bobbed a nod and crashed back along the trail to pass the instruction along, robe flapping noisily against his boots as he slammed through grasping leaves. This time, Mathyss winced at the cacophony.
Van Reiver chuckled at his pained expression, as skulking in the forest was not Dagmar's strongest point. Kandra had slyly reported that the scouts called him 'giant boar feet' after the protracted chase the women endured when Dagmar encountered a kirre while piddling against a tree at dawn. Several hundred pounds of an eight-legged magic-sniffing feline had panicked the magus into flight, with caterwauling so deafening he'd scared off the animal and half the forest on his own.
Mathyss had said nothing, but his unhappiness had been obvious to those nearby. It had taken unbelievable willpower with the humans exposing their location and then the need for two scouts to find and recover Dagmar from a thicket a mile away, where he was trying to climb a tree in his robes. Mathyss couldn't blame Dagmar for his reaction at seeing a kirre for the first time. In his place, he'd run from an outlandish monster like a kirre. All the elves might be accustomed to huge insects and cats, but the humans weren't, and at this moment they were a liability. Van Reiver looked back and asked soberly. "Is there anything specific you wish me to do, Commander?"
Mathyss shrugged, pondering options before nodding ahead. "Keep an eye out for anything strange. I appreciate our isle is unusual for you, yet I know something significant has occurred. Kandra doesn't think we are under observation, but it is vital we keep our vigil and silence."
Van Reiver nodded, and the elf waved his hands for his other scouts to move out, then back along the trail for the leading group to advance. Merizus saluted back and ushered Tryphon's crew along in single file, heads bobbing like laden mules to join him.
.*.*.
The second hamlet was empty, just like the first they visited the previous night. The people living a gentle existence seemed to have departed in a great hurry from the items left out; however, no visible signs of conflict or panic were evident among the abandoned personal items. More critically, no-one could discover a reason behind the hurried departure of four extended families. Mathyss' scouts were scouring the treeline for the one vital clue to crack the mystery asunder. So far, Van Reiver thought, they'd failed.
"Even their livestock's gone," observed Harcux, bending to empty a stone from his boot. Van Reiver's men clustered at the centre of the settlement, nervous after days on foot in the forest with its strange dappled shadows, the crashing of beasts and unknowable eerie sounds. The big man nodded across at an empty bird pen, its woven wooden door ajar, a leather thong tied back with a neat knot. It was also clear to anyone who looked that feed for the creatures still lay within, in a slight mound untouched by beak. Mathyss had already given a meaningful glance to Van Reiver to acknowledge Harcux' comment.
Van Reiver stepped close to the scout leader and, keeping his voice low, asked, "How much further is the larger village? If there was an explicit threat, would your patrol move everyone from here to there?"
"A few miles over the ridge yonder. Follow the trail and it's nestled between two tiny hills. It is possible, but we must see for ourselves. Ahead is the densest woodland we traverse and a mile of rolling ground underfoot. Many snakes and forest dwellers." Mathyss sighed and gestured at the trail that descended further south into thinning trees before it plummeted towards the ocean. "We have no fortifications, so it would only be to consolidate our people. An unusual tactic if proven correct, and not one I would have considered using."
"Would you like it scouted while it's quiet? We need to rest up and eat soon, won't we, so it would be an ideal opportunity?"
"I know, I was planning on sending my pathfinders ahead once they inspect the perimeter. They know what to avoid and can they can move faster." Mathyss responded, only paying partial attention and knowing how the humans felt about trail rations. He faded back to his original thought, looking deflated, and frowned. Van Reiver stared at him in bemusement.
"What have I missed?"
"We can scout it now, without despatching your scouts," Van Reiver suggested, forcing an even tone over amusement. He felt uneasy in t
heir unfamiliar environment, but unlike Dagmar, he felt he was learning from the elves.
Mathyss appeared to appreciate the effort, or at least tolerate it. This time Mathyss turned, attentive at Van Reiver's cryptic remark. "What are you implying?" Van Reiver noticed the hint of exasperation, showing the elf's tension between the environment and the stress of boisterous humans.
"Dagmar has a few mystical abilities beyond those of a normal sea leach. My friend is quite gifted with his arts. I assumed Synalavar briefed you on their first encounter?"
"Oh? Not really, I am no magus and there were a few hiccups with equipment to resolve. Will he do it?"
"He will if I ask nicely and do not insult his dress and big stick. It is how he met Synalavar, so perhaps I should have suggested it earlier." Van Reiver frowned, scratching at an itch on his neck from something airborne that had taken a chunk from him. Bastard thing pained him more than aching legs with the way it snagged on the helm. Bloody bugs. Could the dragonets Carla disliked be of use and munch the neck-biting fuckers?
Mathyss shrugged, unconcerned by buzzing bugs or weird flying seahorse things with butterfly wings. The stinging sensation continued for several seconds, making Van Reiver uncomfortable and hot and irritable.
"Even late is good." The elf quoted an obscure proverb and sounded nonsensical to Van Reiver. "Please despatch your friend, but prepare everyone to march at an instant's notice." Van Reiver grunted agreement, took a last glance at the trail which showed little beyond taller trees, and hurried in the direction his friend had taken, shivering once from foreboding rather than any chill in the air.
He wasn't used to marching, and despite the snug leather, his legs and feet throbbed from the days on the trail and the backpack he carried. He did not wish to let himself down with the men, but all he wanted to do was lie down and rest. It did not take a reader to know they felt the same. If they marched any faster, they would be too knackered to fight. He knew he was too knackered to fight. Recent injuries were all too fresh in their minds, and some, like Hatch, were fortunate to be breathing.
Dagmar had disappeared into one of the six buildings, aligned equidistant like spokes on a wheel with an open centre. He agreed to Van Reiver almost before he finished asking.
"Yes, I'll do it. He can ask himself, you know." The sunjammer quipped, projecting his voice outside to carry to Mathyss. Ever ready to make a bad jest, he now spoke in a hush without unable to hide his trepidation, "When do you wish me to start?"
"Now. What do you need?"
"Some space where I won't get pestered or stood on." Dagmar looked around at the elegant wooden framed huts with their thatched roofs. He gestured at a pair of fruit trees in the grassy circle of some indeterminate species that looked a cross between an apple and a peach. Neat grass, thick and luxurious, surrounded the trunks like a rich green-blue carpet, with an irregular patch of shade in the centre of Van Reiver's imaginary wheel. "That's perfect." Dagmar grinned, despite any misgivings, and ambled over, dragging his staff as a drunken farmer would their plough.
Van Reiver looked for Merizus and found him loitering in earshot several yards away, drinking deep sips from a flask while watching Hadly inspect each building. He was oblivious to any shame in eavesdropping, and Van Reiver found it reassuring to know the marine colossus was looking out for them.
"Did you hear that?" he asked. The big marine nodded; unlike the seamen, the march hadn't affected him, despite his injuries sustained on Tryphon.
"Get everyone ready to move. We leave as soon as Dag finishes."
"Right, just a lovely afternoon stroll, eh, sir?" He observed with a last sip. The serjeant flicked several of the now familiar hand gestures that had men rising to their feet without the usual complaining. Hadly looked grim and holding an armful of fruit called out to men to take one as they passed. Van Reiver looked at him and shook his head at the man being useful. How could anyone eat at this moment? The men scurried about, ensuring they would leave no equipment or taking advantage of the trees surrounding the settlement for personal matters.
39
Van Reiver leant on the exotic fruit tree Dagmar sat against and stretched to ease his back. It made no difference as the low-down ache still throbbed. Rubbing the area granted no discernible improvement and leaning on the tree only shifted the pain from left to right. He thought of their trip to date. He hoped the kirre had taken the hint to be elsewhere while Dagmar was at his most vulnerable. And quiet.
He looked up at the sound of trudging feet and gave a friendly smile to a red-faced Carla. He knew she felt as he had over the last few days. The noblewoman was in a similarly awkward position, acting as a spare part of their small company. Unlike her, he could pass along Mathyss' instructions while pretending to be useful and keep an eye on Hadly and any seaman likely to offend their 'hosts'. It wasn't a full-time job. He'd expected complaints and jibes—with his limited authority—but to his stupefaction, the noblewoman had taken pains to keep matters low key and carry her own weight and equipment. It had shut Hadly up, at least.
Van Reiver worried she brooded too much on the death of her father, but there was only so much small talk he could manage while following Mathyss at the pace the elf set while keeping forty suspicious bickering men quiet. At least his family's mercantile travels provided him with a few topics and tall tales to regale their idle time and avoid too many stilted conversations.
While their trek had thrown mind-boggling discoveries in flora and fauna at them, any interest paled as the speech of the tense elves went from quiet to uncommunicative. When not chatting alongside him, Carla trailed at the rear, followed by Cephill, Hadly and a pair of elven scouts. Neither of the two elf women had spoken to the humans in a day and only communicated with hand gestures twice among themselves. Behind them, Kandra was a silver tipped form, flitting from shadow to shadow. Chatty.
Van Reiver rummaged in the main pocket of his backpack to withdraw two wax-paper wrapped bundles of the hardtack, the elves with stunning imagination called trail rations. The cereal and fruit crackers had more protein than the dry weevil infested biscuits used as lunchtime fodder by the Spires navy. Compared to their usual fare, he enjoyed them, unlike most of the men. Some even missed the crunch of the weevils. A particularly disturbing admission to hear at mealtimes, though worth it to see Hadly looking sick at each remark. It was petty, but he couldn't bring himself to trust the man, when behaving well, unlike Dagmar, who brooded. Damn, he was too weary to think.
"Enjoying the walk?" he asked. Carla glowered, shook her head and slid down the tree opposite Dagmar, to rest her hair against the smooth silvery bark of the trunk. Like the other humans, sweat ringed her brow and hairline with the hurried pace taking its toll. She closed her large eyes, dropping her helmet. The noblewoman took several deep calming breaths, before raising a hand to wipe a runnel of sweat away.
He examined the branches overhead, scrutinising the differing shades of grey-brown and the sinewy twist to the timber. Her leather armour was rather becoming and enhancing when breathing hard. It wouldn't do to upset her by leering when he would require her to corroborate Tryphon's sinking, if he wished to keep a naval career.
Dagmar looked at Van Reiver and when their gazes connected, inclined his head before suggestively rolling his eyes. Pushed into embarrassment, Van Reiver grasped the hint and sat beside her, armour creaking as he thumped onto the spongy grass. With still-closed eyes, a shy smile spread across her lips and she ran her arm through his. Dagmar opened his mouth, poised from all appearances to declare the witticism of all witticisms—then changed his mind and smirked. Van Reiver coloured, making the grin broaden on the magus' narrow face before he winked conspiratorially. The magus closed his eyes, garnering concentration to project his thoughts elsewhere, and that was a godsend to Van Reiver's embarrassment.
"You look weary, Lady Carla. I suggest you rest; we will depart soon." Van Reiver said, feeling a squeeze on his arm as he used the other to open the biscuits.
"Will you give the formality a rest?" She scuffed an irritable divot in the grass with her heel, before asking in honeyed tones, "Are we are not staying, Edouard?" Her eyes seemed to yearn for a rest.
"The people who lived here have gone somewhere, and recently at that. It is causing Mathyss some concern. The damn elf gives nothing away, but his scouts look worried. It is clear from their silence and the fact they are almost running around with bared steel in hand."
"He is perturbed, but I am not surprised. I believe he is a principled man, and I think we can trust him. Dagmar needs to be careful out there. However, I will heed your advice." Van Reiver frowned at her and felt her snuggle against him. He leant back, closing his own eyes and munched, hoping her estimation was correct. Her warmth spread. His weariness and some of his backache faded as he chewed. And chewed.
Her closeness was comforting. He had little desire to remove his arm, so perhaps his friend's smirk was justified. How? She was a noble of status. More so with the death of her father and all the duties and responsibilities that entailed. He guessed he would never learn all the truth of that. Thinking on that would have inflamed his anger if she wasn't pressed up against him. It was hard to be angry within a moment of peace when everyone was in danger together. The elves had every opportunity to bring harm to them and while he didn't believe in their prophecy, it would be an implausible ruse to heal, equip and despatch them here for no purpose. Gods, would they get a ship at the end of this? It may be peaceful for the moment, but there was a storm brewing beyond the trees. He could feel it, even if he couldn't see it.
Van Reiver heard a faint footfall puncturing his turgid thoughts and cracked a protesting eyelid to discover Mathyss standing at his feet with an enigmatic smile on his lips. It gave him a different, relaxed countenance, in contrast to the stony-eyed elven impassiveness he maintained around humans. A comfortable pace from Dagmar by the opposite tree, the elf squatted, heedless of the heavy pack he wore, and his bow, double quiver and longsword. He glanced coolly at the magus without hurrying to converse.
THE TRYPHON ODYSSEY (The Voyage Book 1) Page 34
