by Bryan Davis
A man appeared from around the cabin, pushing a one-wheeled cart between two trees. When he noticed the arrivals, his eyes bulged, and he dropped the cart. Blinking rapidly, he smoothed out his clothes and hurried to join the children, his fingers tight around a sword hilt at his hip. His uniform and dark handlebar mustache gave away his identity, though both appeared damp and drooping, as if he had been caught in a rainstorm.
“Drexel?” Adrian said. “What are you doing here?”
“Hoping to help you.” Drexel bowed toward Marcelle, then toward Adrian. “You look like you have been through a battle.”
Adrian touched the bite mark on his scalp. It oozed blood, but it wasn’t too bad. “I’ve been through my share of tussles, but I’m okay.”
“That’s good, but it seems that Marcelle has not fared as well. She appears to be quite ill.”
Adrian glanced at her. With her mouth partially open and her eyes wide and glazed, she seemed to be lost in her dream world again. “She is ill. She suffered a lot at the hands of the dragons.”
“Wicked beasts!” Drexel scowled for a moment before letting his face relax. “Shall we prepare a place for her to lie down?”
Adrian eyed Drexel. As the head of the palace sentries, he held an influential position in the Underground Gateway. He had always been able to switch facial expressions quickly, aiding the cause to rescue the slaves at one moment and licking the governor’s boots the next. “Thank you. That would be very helpful.”
Drexel waved a hand toward the door. “Take her inside. The children will help you.”
“She needs to be cleaned up. She’s not … well … not in control of her faculties.”
“I understand. Perhaps your female companions can take her in, and Cassandra”—he patted one of the three girls on her head, pressing down her tangled dark hair—“will help with the bedding and cleanup. In fact, all three girls can help, and I will send the boys away, then we can discuss my presence here privately.”
Adrian nodded. “That will be fine.”
Penelope gave Adrian his sword, then, led by the other girls, she and Shellinda guided Marcelle through the door. When all six faded from sight, Drexel tousled the hair of the tallest boy, but he ducked away, a scowl on his face.
“Orlan,” Drexel said, apparently unaffected by the boy’s rebuff, “find Frederick. He’ll want to know that his brother is here.”
“His brother?” Orlan stared at Adrian. “He does look like Frederick.”
“Of course he does. Go on now, and take the other boys with you. There is safety in numbers.”
The two younger boys looked at each other, fear in their eyes, but they stayed quiet.
“Did Frederick say where he was going?” Orlan asked. “He must have gotten up before dawn.”
Drexel nodded. “He said he was going to check his traps.”
“He checks them in the evening,” one of the younger boys said, “so the birds won’t pick them clean during the night.”
“Perhaps I misheard him. He might be trying to catch some fish for breakfast, so look for him at the stream.”
Orlan shook his head. “His fishing gear is still behind the cabin.”
“Very well. Then look for him at the hunting stand. If he isn’t there, then check the stream.”
“He’s not hunting.” Orlan pointed over his shoulder with his thumb. “His bow and arrows are still here, too.”
“Since you’re so well-informed,” Drexel said through clenched teeth, “search for him wherever you wish. If you’re frightened, take the bow and arrows. Just go.”
Orlan shot a glance at Adrian and at his sword, then scampered around the cabin with the other two boys. Seconds later, they appeared at the corner where Drexel had left the cart and ran deeper into the woods, Orlan with a bow in his hand and the two boys clutching arrows. Soon, the pounding of their bare feet faded.
Adrian continued listening. Could there be other big cats prowling the woods, or were they confined to the marsh? The two smaller boys seemed pensive, frightened. Their slave mentalities, however, wouldn’t allow them to appeal. “I would like to go with them.” He lifted his sword, displaying a smear of blood on the blade. “We killed a big catlike creature on the way here. They wouldn’t stand a chance against one.”
“They’re long gone,” Drexel said. “We could never catch up.”
“I’m sure I can track them. Let’s talk on the way.”
Drexel glanced at the cabin. “Who will guard the girls?”
“The door’s closed. They should be fine.” Adrian marched along the path the boys had taken, eyeing the broken twigs and flattened foliage they had left behind. His heart pounded with every footfall. After all these long months, he and Frederick would soon be reunited.
“I take it you found the dragon’s portal,” Drexel said from a few steps back.
A chill ran up Adrian’s spine. Walking in front of Drexel was unnerving. “I did find the portal, but in an unexpected way. I can explain everything when Frederick comes.”
“Of course. Retelling stories can be tedious.”
“I know what you mean.” Adrian used his blade to push a broken fern out of the way. “But do you mind telling me how you got here?”
“I found the portal Uriel Blackstone used.” Drexel pulled on Adrian’s sleeve, stopping him. In his hand, he held a small book. “This is his journal. I happened upon it in Governor Prescott’s room when we were searching for evidence. You see, shortly after you left, someone murdered the good governor, so I—”
“Murdered?”
“Yes, a tragedy, to be sure.” Drexel averted his gaze, apparently looking in the cabin’s direction. “Of course, with this portal information in hand, I decided to come here. I hoped to bring proof of Dracon’s existence back to Mesolantrum so I could muster an army to rescue the Lost Ones. I thought bringing a malnourished child home would be sufficient to embolden the hearts of our people against the dragons.”
“I see,” Adrian said, nodding. “An emotional hook. Since you have children now, are you going back soon?”
Drexel shook his head. “It seems that the journal lacks instructions on how to open the portal from this side, so I am trapped here. Since I was fortunate enough to find Frederick, I assume the Creator is guiding me on my path, and I expected, knowing your reputation as a superb tracker, that you would eventually find both of us here. Since you have arrived, it seems that my supposition has been confirmed. Now the three of us will find a way home with these children in tow.”
“Maybe more than three. My father is in a place called the Northlands, and a dragon told me Jason is trying to get there.”
“A dragon told you Jason is here?” Drexel’s scowl returned. “And you believed the lying beast?”
Adrian cocked his head, pondering Drexel’s sudden outburst. Was this real anger or another one of his calculated shifts in mood? “I spoke to Arxad, the dragon priest. He mentioned Jason’s name before I did, so they must have met.”
“Not necessarily.” Drexel shifted his weight from foot to foot, again averting his eyes. “I have long suspected that the dragons have been communicating with Governor Prescott about a possible trade to obtain extane from our world. Perhaps Arxad heard your brother’s name from him.”
“Not likely. I think Arxad wants the Lost Ones to leave. He has no reason to lie.”
Drexel’s eyes focused on Adrian, his brow bending. “A naïve conclusion. I doubt his sympathy and his words. Jason had no way to get here. Uriel Blackstone’s portal required a genetic key that Jason was unable to obtain.”
“A genetic key? How did you get it?”
“I can explain at another time. For now, we need to decide how many adults will be returning to Major Four. Someone will have to stay with the children, and perhaps Marcelle will not be well enough to join us.” He glanced toward the cabin. “What did the dragons do to her?”
“Again, allow me to explain when we find Frederick.” Adrian refocuse
d on the path. Soon the signs would be more difficult to discern. “We’d better hurry before the boys get too far—”
Something rustled in the woods, and a low growl followed. Adrian lifted his sword and searched for the source, but the dense forest gave away nothing. “Did you hear that?”
“I heard.” Drexel drew his own sword. “I have been here only since last night, so I am not familiar with the beasts that lurk in these woods.”
“It sounded just like the cat creature.”
Drexel nodded in the direction the boys had gone. “Then by all means, make haste!”
Adrian ran ahead, again following the trampled undergrowth. The terrain sloped downward and grew moister. Maybe the boys had gone toward the stream after all. He glanced back, but Drexel was nowhere in sight. Obviously he had no intention of keeping up.
Soon, the sound of running water reached his ears. In the distance, the three boys stood at the edge of a shallow stream, staring at the water. He hustled down a vine-covered slope and halted behind them. “What are you looking at?”
Orlan pointed at the stream. “Frederick’s sword.” He shifted his finger. “And it looks like someone climbed out at the other side.”
Adrian ran into the ankle-deep water and snatched up the sword from the stream’s rocky bed. Yes, it was Frederick’s. The miniature family crest engraved in the hilt gave it away. He scanned the slope at the opposite bank, a mixture of grass and mud that led upward to a ledge overlooking the stream from about five feet up. Deep gouges in the turf verified Orlan’s guess that someone had crawled out.
He leaped up to the ledge and scanned the grass beyond. Dried drops of blood dotted a trail leading away from the stream with a wide gap between each drop. The person or animal was either running or bleeding slowly, perhaps both.
Following the trail for several steps, he studied the flattened grass. The pattern definitely matched that of a running human, most likely an adult. Yet, an odd narrow depression ran down the middle of the trail, consistent in width and depth, like a wheel bearing a heavy load.
He turned back to the boys. “Did you see anyone? Hear anything?”
Orlan shook his head. “Just you when you came up behind us.”
“No rustling sounds? No animal noises?”
“Nothing.”
“I heard some birds,” one of the younger boys said. “And the water.”
Adrian leaped back to the stream and splashed across it. Showing the boys Frederick’s sword, he ran a finger along the blade. “There’s no blood, obviously, because of the water, but there’s a nick here. I know my brother. He hones any flaw in his blade, so this has to be fresh.”
Orlan touched the nick. “Could he have been battling Drexel and lost his sword?”
“Battling Drexel?” Adrian cocked his head at Orlan. “Why would you ask that?”
“Well …” Orlan averted his eyes. “I just don’t trust Drexel.”
“I don’t blame you. But don’t worry about Frederick. He could best Drexel with a dull stick.” Adrian looked at the stream again. “Maybe he fell, and the blade got nicked on the rocks.”
“Then why would he leave the sword behind?” Orlan asked.
Adrian glanced between the stream and the ledge. “That puzzles me. Unless my brother was severely dazed by the fall, he would’ve picked it up.”
“So what are you going to do?”
“Follow the trail.” He extended Frederick’s sword to Orlan. “Can you handle a blade?”
“No.” Orlan raised the bow. “I can’t even use this. These two can shoot it, though.”
Adrian gazed at the two younger boys, likely no older than six or seven, but if they were once cattle children, their growth might have been stunted by malnutrition. “I heard something prowling on my way here, so maybe you should come with me. Drexel’s back there somewhere, but I can’t count on him to protect you. He might have headed to the cabin.”
Orlan took the sword. “Maybe you should go alone, and I’ll take these two home.”
“Why?”
Orlan looked toward the cabin, though it wasn’t in sight. “The truth? Nothing held back?”
“Of course.”
Half closing an eye, Orlan stared at Adrian for several seconds. “I think I can trust you.”
“I just gave you a sword. That should tell you something.”
“True.” Orlan focused on the blade. “Like I said, I don’t trust Drexel, especially around the girls.”
“Why? What do you think he would do?”
“I don’t know. Back at the mine where I work, a lot of people died after he showed up and killed a dragon.”
“Drexel killed a dragon?” Adrian let out a whistle. “That’s impressive.”
“I know, but I still don’t trust him.” He looked Adrian in the eye again. “The only reason I took off to find Frederick was because I think you’re an honest man. He wouldn’t do anything to the girls while you’re around.”
Adrian looked at the trail of blood. Frederick was in obvious trouble, while Marcelle and the girls were likely fine, in danger only in Orlan’s imagination. Apparently Drexel had done them no harm to this point, and this boy was obviously strong and smart, so with a sword in hand, he could get to the cabin safely, allowing a faster search for Frederick. The cat creature hadn’t bothered them so far. “Okay. Take the boys. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“Just watch out for the deer trap,” one of the smaller boys said, pointing across the stream. “It’s in that direction.”
“A trap?” Adrian pointed at the ground. “Is it a pit?”
The boy nodded. “With spikes at the bottom.”
“Thanks for the warning. I’ll watch out for it.”
Orlan ran up the vine-covered slope, herding the boys, one at each side. Adrian leaped across the stream in two bounds and then up the embankment. Clutching his sword, he sprinted through the grass and into the forest, dodging low branches and jumping over exposed roots. The trail stayed clear, and the blood splotches grew bigger and closer together.
Finally, he reached a glade surrounded by pine trees. Their needles covered the ground with a copper-colored blanket, making the red trail a bit harder to see, but it was still evident. As long as he stayed on the path Frederick had followed, he wouldn’t fall into a pit.
Slowing to a jog, he continued, glancing left and right for any other sign of—
The ground collapsed. As Adrian toppled forward, he rammed his sword into the dirt on the far side and held on. Now dangling, he looked at the pit’s floor. Sharpened stakes protruded about ten feet below. A man lay face down, apparently impaled, but the sun’s angle didn’t allow much light to reach the bottom. The man had to be Frederick, but it was impossible to tell how badly he was hurt.
As the loose dirt gave way, the sword bent. Only seconds remained before it would pry free from the wall. Adrian lunged and reached for the lip of the pit, but his hands fell short. Clawing and scrabbling, he slid down the side, bringing a miniature avalanche and the sword down with him.
He bent his body and thrust out his arms, trying to avoid the sword and the stakes, but when he landed, one stake pierced the heel of his hand and passed through, leaving at least three inches visible on the other side.
Biting his lip to keep from yelling, he grabbed the sword and chopped the base of the stake, freeing himself. With pine needles and green leaves raining from above, he edged around to the opposite side of the pit and examined the prostrate man. It seemed that his body broke some stakes, but one had rammed through his leg and now protruded from his calf.
Adrian squinted at the man’s profile. His scruffy beard and shaggy hair covered all but his nose and part of his cheek. Still, his identity was clear. “Frederick! Can you hear me?”
Frederick neither moved nor answered. Adrian set his ear against Frederick’s back. His heart beat steadily, but his breaths were shallow and labored.
Using the sword again, he chopped off the stake pie
rcing Frederick’s leg and slowly turned him on his side. Three stakes under his body lay fragmented on the dirt, though one section pierced his belt and stomach.
Adrian felt the entry point. It appeared to be embedded only an inch or so. With pain ripping through his impaled hand, he eased the stake out of Frederick’s stomach and pressed his fingers over the hole. Blood oozed slowly—a minor wound.
Running his fingers through Frederick’s hair, Adrian found a hefty lump. Apparently someone clubbed him and threw him down, then covered the hole and sprinkled blood on top to make it look safe to cross.
Through clenched teeth, Adrian muttered, “Drexel!” That scoundrel did this. Wasn’t he pushing a one-wheeled cart earlier? And his damp clothes indicated that he had perspired profusely. Apparently he had committed this crime only moments before they arrived at the cabin.
Adrian’s biceps flexed. So now he had to get back to the cabin. Who could tell what Drexel might do next? But he couldn’t leave his brother here.
Turning to Frederick’s leg, Adrian felt the bone. It shifted, evidence of a break. Frederick gasped, his eyes clenching. When the pain eased, he relaxed, but stayed unconscious. A shiver ran across his body, but it soon eased as well.
Adrian touched Frederick’s thin sleeve. In the video, hadn’t he worn an outer tunic? When he traveled, he always wore at least two layers. Maybe he had given one to the children to keep them warm at night.
Looking up, Adrian scanned their trap, a circular pit about ten feet deep. Frederick likely chose this spot because the dirt was so loose, allowing for easy digging. If not for the stakes, a victim could claw at the sides until it caved in enough to allow for crawling out.