It wasn’t until they stopped for the night and began gathering fallen brush to act as lean-tos that Reecah realized her ears no longer ached.
Junior observed her playing with her earrings. “Do they hurt?”
“Huh? These? No. Not really.”
He reached out. “Do you mind?”
She shook her head.
Junior grabbed an earring, rubbing it between his thumb and forefinger. “Grimelda put these in?”
“Yes. Without my knowledge.”
He released her. “How’d she do that?”
“It’s a long story. I’ll tell you about it someday…” She lowered her voice and indicated the others with a nod. “When we’re not with them.”
“I’d love to hear it.”
Several people gathered wood and rolled stones into a large circle.
Anvil stormed up to the fire ring. “What’re ye doing?”
The strapping youth, Edo, was poised to apply his dagger to a sliver of flint. He looked up from his crouched position. “Starting a fire, Anvil.”
“No fires!” Anvil boomed. “Fires give away your position.”
Reecah gaped at the weapon master, echoing the grumbling of the others. How were they going to cook the wild turkeys? Worse, without a fire, Lurker and the others would never find her and Junior.
Lying beneath a well-built lean-to she had erected, Flavian and Junior on either side of her, she lay awake, staring at the dark, forest canopy. Sporadic gusts revealed dark clouds roiling across the sky between gaps in the treetops. It promised to be an ugly night.
Braving the rain in the early morning twilight, Jaxon glared at the tall guard manning South Fort’s outer gate, aware of the other guards keeping an eye on him. No one looked happy standing out in the persistent drizzle. “What do you mean they left yesterday morning? I’ve been assigned by Prince J’kwaad to keep a close watch on two of them. What’s your name?” He thrust the scroll the prince had given him into the guard’s hands.
He had spent the previous day searching South Fort for the stowaway girl and her long-haired companion dressed in black, with no success. Several times he had visited the open area beyond the first stable on the advice of multiple people. Everyone that knew of her, also knew that she was one of Anvil’s charges.
His spirits had ebbed as the sun tracked across the sky. If Prince J’kwaad became aware of his inability to locate the miscreant, he dreaded the repercussions—regardless of whether he had anything to do with her disappearance.
A rational thinking person would surmise that there was no way he could carry out his task if the person he was sent to keep an eye on had disappeared before he came on duty. Unfortunately, no one ever accused J’kwaad of being rational.
Jaxon had spent the entire night searching the nooks and crannies all over South Fort, braving to onset of rain. He unearthed interesting people and witnessed many strange goings on, but there was no sign of the Bone Breaker or his trainees.
Returning to the training ground at first light, he attempted to employ his tracking skill. The well-trodden ground covered in puddles left him little to go on, but it was obvious a group of people had gathered around the stump and an old bucket lying on its side.
Where they had gone from there was a mystery. Toward the first stable was the best he could determine, but from there, their tracks were obscured by the passage of the rest of the city.
The guard he questioned let the damp scroll roll back on itself and returned it; the perturbed look on his face softened into one of newfound, if not forced, respect. “Forgive me, Lord Jaxon. I had no idea.”
Lord Jaxon. That was an honorific he could get used to. He stuffed the scroll beneath his belt and decided it was time to exploit his new title. He peered down the end of his nose in haughty arrogance. “See you don’t forget it.”
“No, m’lord. I’m Sir Batkin, captain of the South Fort Watch. I had no idea you were in South Fort. The group you seek left at sunrise, yesterday. Down the King’s Wood Road.”
Jaxon had no idea where that was. He fought to subdue his mounting frustration. “When are they expected back?”
“The Bone Breaker didn’t say.”
“Didn’t say?” Anger slipped into Jaxon’s tone. “As captain of the guard, is it not your responsibility to know the comings and goings of the people?”
“Yes, m’lord, but not when it involves those of higher station.”
“So, this Bone Breaker outranks you?”
“Oh aye, m’lord,” Sir Batkin answered, a puzzled look crossing his face. “Begging your pardon, but you’re not from around here are you?”
Not caring to explain himself, Jaxon ignored the question. “Was there a girl with brown hair and a tight braid in the group?”
“Do you mean GG, m’lord?”
“Yes! That’s her. And a man with long, blonde hair, wearing black livery and chain?”
“Aye, m’lord. The newcomer. GG claimed he was her brother.”
Jaxon mulled that over. There was something peculiar about this GG person. Something that resonated with him at a deeper level, but the mention of her having a brother threw him off. He almost laughed out loud as to who he had thought GG might be.
“Is there something funny, m’lord?”
Jaxon wiped the smile from his face. “Certainly not, you twit. Point me in the direction of the King’s Wood Road, and be quick about it.”
Sir Batkin bowed slightly and started onto the drawbridge. Halfway across, he stopped and raised a hand. “Keep on that road. Follow the left fork as it passes beyond the city wall. That’s the King’s Wood Road. There’s nothing along the route for over a week’s travel on foot. It leads to Arcanium.”
Jaxon had heard of the fabled wizard conclave of Arcanium. He wasn’t keen on visiting a den full of magic users, but Prince J’kwaad’s insistence that he not fail in his surveillance of this GG woman overrode his fear of wizards and their ilk.
“Were they on horseback?”
“No, m’lord. All on foot.”
Jaxon nodded, more to himself than for Sir Batkin’s benefit. A smirk twisted his lips. If the group was headed for Arcanium, he had no doubt he could catch them long before they reached their destination.
“Very well, Captain Batkin. I’ll inform the prince how helpful you’ve been.”
Sir Batkin bowed deeply. “Thank you, m’lord. Safe travels.”
Jaxon nodded and started away. He stopped at the end of the drawbridge, sheltering his eyes from the rain with a hand. “Sir Batkin?”
The guard hadn’t moved. “Yes, m’lord.”
Stomping back across the wooden span, Jaxon offered the man the kindest smile he could muster. “There’s one other thing you can help me with.”
The rising sun, hidden by the interminable wood and incessant downpour, provided little warmth as Anvil roused the group.
Choking back a strip of hardened beef Flavian provided her and Junior, Reecah rung out her cloak and slipped into its cold material; goosebumps riddling her skin. She located the Dragon’s Eye safely tucked within its inner pocket with a grim sense of satisfaction. Its presence a constant reminder of a promise unkept.
She had protected her useless diary as she slept by stashing it within her shift, close to her waist. When the rain came, she stuffed it into a leather pouch hanging off her belt—stretching the holder’s seams.
Using her fingers, she brushed wet strands of hair from her face and mentally prepared for what promised to be a challenging day. According to Anvil, if they improved on the distance travelled yesterday, they would leave the comfort of the King’s Wood Road sometime in the afternoon and begin their arduous trek northward through the untamed stretches of the King’s Wood. The easy part of the trek would be behind them.
Catenya set a slow pace as they set out in the rain, which suited most of the group just fine.
At one point in the middle of the dreary morning, Anvil growled from behind Reecah, “Bilge rat. Why don�
�t ye get up there and get us moving? At this rate, we’ll be lucky to reach the cursed pile of rock afore the snow flies.”
Reecah smiled at his endearment, but didn’t honour him with a response. Her mind was far away. Along the shores of the Lake of the Lost worrying about her friends taking unnecessary chances to find out what had happened to her and Junior. The king’s men’s response would be harsh if they were ever to discover their location.
The sound of a stick breaking preceded Flavian’s cry of pain. He fell to the wet roadway in a heap.
Reecah watched him hit the ground hard. She searched the immediate area but couldn’t see the offending stick until it dawned on her the snap had been his ankle.
“Hey!” Anvil barely missed tripping on him.
Reecah, Junior and Anvil stopped but the rest of the group kept on trudging through the mire—soon lost beyond a bend in the road.
Flavian held his right ankle, his face scrunched up in agony.
“Let’s see the damage, boy.” Anvil stepped over him and took a hold of his boot.
Flavian screamed, but if Anvil cared, he didn’t let on. Yanking the boot free, the weapon master shook his head. Flavian’s ankle had already swollen and turned a convoluted mixture of purplish-black.
“Not good. Ye ain’t travellin’ on that fer a while.”
Flavian grabbed his bare ankle, fear in his pained eyes.
Anvil straightened to his full height. “Pity. I had high hopes for ye.”
Reecah gaped. “You can’t just leave him here.”
“Ain’t much else to do with him. Unless ye plan on carrying him all the way to Headwater. Given the weather, we’ll be lucky to get there on time as it is.”
“You can’t be serious. Who cares about Headwater? Flavian needs a healer.”
Anvil scanned the thick undergrowth. “Ain’t to be seeing one.”
Reecah searched for a way to help her friend. The image of Grog being hauled out of Dragonfang Pass came to mind. “We can make a litter and carry him back to South Fort.”
“And ruin a valuable lesson. I think not. Ye’d best be followin’ after yer mates afore they get too far ahead. I’ll see to him.”
Reecah didn’t like the sound of that. She refused to leave Flavian in Anvil’s company. “A valuable lesson? Flavian’s life depends on us getting him out of here.”
Anvil’s face darkened. “Ye think the king will halt his march every time someone twists an ankle? This is a real time exercise with real time consequences. Ain’t no exceptions on Flavian’s account. High King J’kaar depends on me to weed out the weak.”
Reecah put her hands on her hips. Rain dripped off her face, running freely beneath her cloak, but she didn’t care. “Flavian isn’t weak. He slipped in the muck because of the rain. It’s not like he was careless.”
Anvil shrugged. “Ain’t me problem. Ye need to choose. Catch up to yer mates and continue yer training, or stay with him and throw away the chance to better yerself.” He turned to leave. “I’d really hate to lose my two best archers, but rules ain’t to be broken.”
Reecah’s temper flared. “Rules be damned, you unfeeling brute. Go join your precious trainees. See how proud you are when the best your class has to offer the king is that malicious bitch Catenya and her group of spineless followers. A fine lot of good they’ll be when the king needs them to protect his royal hide.”
Anvil’s face turned purple.
Reecah braced to defend herself, expecting to eat his fist. From the corner of her eye, Junior’s hand wrapped around the hilt of his sword. She placed a staying hand over his, fearing it would go badly for everyone if Junior bared steel.
Anvil’s heavy brow came together. “Suit yerself. If ye weren’t a woman, I’d throw ye to the ground and beat ya senseless.”
Reecah stepped up to him, throwing her shoulders back and puffing out her chest. She had to crane her head back to stare him in the face. “If you weren’t a man, I’d take you up on that threat. Know well, it’d be the last thing you did.”
Anvil’s laboured breaths were visible in the cold air. He clenched his hands tight, his bronzed knuckles turning white, but he didn’t rise to the bait. With the meanest glower Reecah had ever witnessed, Anvil grunted and pushed by her, knocking her to the ground.
Junior slid his sword halfway out of its sheath but one look from the angry beast as he stomped by, stopped him from making a fatal mistake.
Anvil broke into a swaggering jog and disappeared around the bend.
“That was a stupid thing to do,” Junior said, offering Reecah a hand up. “Brave, but stupid. He might have eaten you.”
“Ya, brave is but one mistake removed from stupidity.” Reecah grunted, wiping the worst of the muck from her rump. “Good thing it’s raining. I think I wet myself.”
Ignoring Junior’s gaping stare, as if he wasn’t sure whether to laugh or not, she knelt at Flavian’s side. “Can I? How’s it feeling?”
The pain behind Flavian’s eyes told her all she needed to know. She gently probed the ankle with her fingertips, subconsciously noting an aching sensation in her earlobes.
“Ow!” Flavian regrasped his ankle, brushing her touch away.
She stood. Her expression grim, she whispered to Junior, “It’s broken.”
Junior ran a hand through his rain-soaked hair. “Oh, for sure. I can see it from here. Now what?”
“We carry him back to South Fort.”
She could tell Junior wanted to protest, but to his credit, he held his tongue. Taking a deep breath, he positioned himself on Flavian’s far side.
The rain ceased and the clouds parted, bathing them in the welcome heat of early afternoon sunshine whenever they hobbled beneath a gap in the forest canopy.
At first, it was all they could do to help Flavian keep his weight off the ankle but with the departure of the rain, their progress had quickened.
Reecah attributed their pace to the break in the weather and the three of them getting used to walking as one, but watching Flavian step gingerly on his affected foot she brought them to a halt.
She slipped his arm from her shoulder and faced him. “You’re walking on it. Doesn’t that hurt?”
Flavian glanced at his feet, both firmly planted on the ground. A look of wonder crossed his face as he cautiously stepped back and forth. “I can’t believe it. I thought it was broken.”
Though not an expert on injuries and healing, Reecah agreed with Flavian’s assessment. It had certainly appeared broken when Anvil pulled his boot off.
“Remove your boot. I want to see something.”
Reluctantly, Flavian lowered himself to the ground with Junior’s assistance. Experiencing a great deal of discomfort, he wiggled his boot free and stared at his ankle. The swelling had gone down considerably, though the bruising didn’t appear any better.
Reecah inspected the ankle. “How’s it feel?”
As soon as her fingers touched his skin, her earlobes ached. She pulled her hands away and the sensation subsided.
Flavian rotated his foot. “It’s a miracle. It’s still sore, but it doesn’t feel anything like before. I must’ve just twisted it after all.”
Reecah stood and exchanged glances with Junior. There was no way Flavian had only twisted it. She had felt the broken bone beneath the skin.
Junior shrugged, shaking his head. “Beats me.”
Reecah swallowed, unwilling to accept what her premonitions were telling her. There was more to the sensations she had been experiencing lately than she knew.
Witch Hunt
Muted sunshine drove the chill from the King’s Wood, but did little to remove the dampness from their clothing as they stopped to take advantage of the last rays beaming through a wide gap in the trees.
Flavian’s sore ankle kept them from sustaining a steady pace for long—having to stop frequently to let him rest, but that didn’t prevent him from asserting they chase after Anvil and the trainees.
Each time they res
ted, Reecah insisted on wrapping her hands around his ankle. With every application of her gentle touch, she experienced the peculiar sensation in her ears.
As the last rays of light lingered, they sat Flavian on a large tree that had fallen recently along the edge of the roadway. Reecah asked to see the injury, but Junior held up a hand for silence.
Junior peered up the roadway toward South Fort. His gaze wandered into the dense forest on either side of the trail before he cocked his head in thought and strolled back to where she stood with Flavian.
Reecah shrugged her bow free. “What is it?”
Junior shook his head. “Thought I heard something.”
She took a few steps and stared down the barren roadway but didn’t see or hear anything out of the ordinary. The low-lying sun cast bright rays into the gloom making it difficult to see anything to the west. Birds sang various choruses all around them, while a gentle breeze blew the remaining leaves from their branches—covering the forest floor with a multi-coloured carpet.
She returned to Flavian. “Let’s see how it’s doing.”
Slipping the boot from his injured foot, Flavian’s face lit up in wonder. The swelling had all but disappeared and the ugly bruising had faded to pink.
“I don’t understand. That’s impossible. How did it…?” His eyes widened. “You did this.”
Reecah knelt on one knee in the wet loam. She reached out to inspect the injured area but he jerked his foot away.
“You’re a witch.”
Not knowing what to say, Reecah couldn’t dispute the claim. It appeared Jonas Waverunner had been right all along. The truth of it stunned her as much as it did Flavian.
Like it or not, she had inherited her great-aunt’s penchant for magic. She didn’t know if it was residual power lingering in her earrings from whatever rite Grimelda had performed, or whether she possessed an arcane ability she had no comprehension of.
She couldn’t recall when the sensations had first started. It must have recently surfaced. Thinking hard, she thought beyond Flavian’s injury and recalled Junior’s struggle during yesterday’s hike. She had worried about him maintaining the pace set by the group and offered to relieve him of his sword belt. The more she thought about it, that was around the time Junior had found his second wind. One that had lasted the remainder of the day. Had she facilitated Junior’s recovery as well?
Legends of the Lurker Box Set Page 51