by Sam Ferguson
William turned his head to see a reddish-brown haired woman come into view. She wore a well-tailored, red dress with a floral pattern along the bottom of the skirt that climbed up her left side, hugging her curves until it ended in a purple blossom of silk on her left shoulder. William knew instantly that she was not a native of Cherry Brook.
“Just out for a camping trip,” William said. “We are going north along the foothills and then back,” he lied.
“Poor season for such an excursion,” she said. “Have you a guide?”
William nodded. Better to be friendly with them rather than cut off their line of questions, to do otherwise might raise more suspicions.
“We spoke with Orin, do you know him?”
“Orin is an excellent choice,” the woman said with an approving nod. “If he is going with you, then you will have a wonderful time.”
“Still,” the clerk began, “I am surprised he would agree to go out so late in the year. However, I am not one to judge. Here,” the clerk set a piece of paper on the counter. “Make a mark next to each item you want. If you want more than one of something, then be sure to denote the quantity desired. Then you can sit over there and have a smoke while we fill the order.” The clerk turned to the woman. “Belinda, be a dear and take the young man over to the sitting area. I have some chocolates here as well.”
Belinda nodded. “Of course, Jacop.” Richard went with Belinda while William filled out the list.
The clerk remained close by, watching the marks William put on the list and unnerving the man. Finally, William looked up and handed the list to the clerk. The bespectacled man wrinkled his nose as he perused the list. Then, he looked up and set the list on the counter.
“I’ll fill the order,” he said. “It will take a few minutes. You can take a seat over there with your…”
“Nephew,” William filled in for the clerk.
Jacop nodded. “With your nephew. However, I should tell you this is going to be expensive.”
William nodded once. “I understand.”
Jacop stroked his chin. “I might also tell you that Orin is a fine guide, but there is one who is better.”
William perked up at that and leaned in. “Who is that?”
Jacop smiled wisely. “I can tell by your list that Orin isn’t going to be taking you anywhere. Now, what you want to do off in the mountains is your own business, but I can’t have it said that Jacop sent any customer off into the forest unprepared. Therefore, go and find a man named Garrin. I’ll draw a map to his house on the back of the list. However, I should caution you, if Garrin refuses to take you, then you should reconsider your trek.”
“No, this is a once in a lifetime trek,” William said. “It means a lot to both of us.”
Jacop nodded. “Very well. However, if you go to Garrin and he talks you into changing your mind, I will let you return all of the supplies for a full refund. I don’t want anybody saying I am not a generous shop keeper, you hear?”
William smiled and said, “Tell me where to find this Garrin fellow.”
Jacop flipped the list over and started drawing a map. When he finished he handed it to William.
“Don’t you need the list?” William asked as he took the map.
Jacop shook his head. “I know what Garrin would order. I’ll get the right supplies ready and then you can be on your way.”
Chapter 3
The door to the throne room opened and a pair of halberd-wielding guards stepped in. A thin youth followed them and then made his way across the chamber, the bottoms of his shoes slapping the blue and black marble tiles as he hurried toward the throne.
Upon the black throne carved from a great ebony tree sat Nor Vindarian. A gold chain hung around his neck, with a large, emerald pendant dangling from the yellow links just above his chest. The flowing, black silk tunic was tucked into a wide, leather belt with gold and silver rings set into it that held his extremely baggy, black silk trousers in place. Atop his head was a tall, cylindrical, black hat of fur. In his right hand he held a scepter made of oak, crowned with a large, purple crystal. If the six and a half foot tall man’s stark beard and brooding brown eyes set evenly in his stoic face did not command respect, then the sizzling arcs of energy that randomly shot across the many facets of the purple crystal in Nor’s scepter would.
The thin youth dropped to his knees and then bowed prostrate before the throne.
“My king, I have news.”
“You have found the traitor?” Nor asked in his deep, thunderous voice.
The youth kept his face pressed to the marble tile. “No, my king, but I have found a clue.”
“A clue?” Nor repeated. “And what is that?”
The thin youth held up a lock of sand-colored hair. “I searched the traitor’s room, and I found this in a waste basket.”
“Excellent, take it to Zek. He can use the hair to track them. The traitor will be dealt with.”
The youth pushed back to his knees, bowing twice more before standing, and then another three times as he backed away from the throne, clutching the hair in his hands next to his heart. Then he turned and ran from the throne room.
The two guards exited and closed the door. The metallic click of the lock sliding into place echoed throughout the chamber.
Nor tapped the fingers of his right hand upon his scepter. Could it be? Nor wondered. Was the traitor so stupid as to leave a lock of hair? Nor rose from his throne and made his way toward a side door. His baggy silk pants whiffed with each step as the fabric rubbed together. He waved his hand and the door opened by itself, clearing his way. Nor turned to his right, walking through a long corridor with a green carpet running down the center of the tile floor. A pair of servants, who were carrying trays of what looked to be the day’s lunch, bowed graciously and stepped to the side of the hallway, allowing Nor to pass.
The two servants then turned on their heels and began to follow Nor with the trays of food.
“Set them in the dining hall,” Nor said without bothering to turn and look at his servants. They sighed and turned around again to comply with their master’s wishes.
Nor continued onward until he came to a large set of oaken double doors. The wood had diamond shaped patterns carved into it across the whole of the entrance, and a pair of brass rings hung from lion-heads made of dark iron. Nor waved his staff, almost imperceptibly, and the doors opened inward.
Candles burst into flame upon his arrival, bathing the chamber in a soft, warm light. There was a rather large window at the far end of the narrow library, but Nor demanded the thick velvet drapes be closed at all times. Day or night, he preferred the candle light, especially in this room.
The doors closed behind him and he moved to a low-backed, overstuffed leather chair and sat down. He drew a curved knife from his belt and examined the blade in the light of the candles. He focused on the ruby placed in the pommel and closed his eyes.
“What is it, my king?” a voice asked.
Nor opened his eyes and saw a smoky figure floating in the air before him.
“Zek, I am sending a runner to you. He has something that will aid us in finding the traitor.”
The face in the smoke nodded, becoming slightly blurred as it moved.
“Most excellent. I have discerned the path the traitor fled as well. I have already sent a group of men northwest, along the foothills. They will scour every village until we find him.”
“The runner has found a lock of hair,” Nor said.
The smoky face grinned wide and Zek’s nostrils flared.
“The traitor’s hair?” he asked.
“Perhaps,” Nor replied. “It was found in the traitor’s bed chamber. So, it is either his hair, or perhaps—”
The door to the library burst open and Nor stopped speaking. He turned to see a woman in tattered clothes, hands bound by tight cords in front of her waist, and a gag securely in place. Nor turned to the smoky apparition.
“You work with the h
air, the guards have found the traitor’s wife. I will see what I can learn from her.”
Zek smiled and nodded. “By your command, my king.” The smoke disappeared and the magical connection was severed. Nor rose from his chair and approached the bound woman. Her blue eyes were wide, following him as he walked. Nor dismissed the two guards and then closed and locked the door after they left.
“Your husband is a bad man,” Nor said. He reached out a hand to brush the dirty hair from the woman’s face. She shied away and tried to shout through the gag. Nor seized her arm and gripped it tightly. She winced in pain as Nor pressed her up to the closed doors.
“Your husband has committed terrible crimes against the crown,” Nor said. “Not only is he a traitor, but did you know he is guilty of kidnapping as well?”
The woman’s eyes flared wider and she trembled with fear.
Nor grinned. “I know of kings who have tortured people accused of such crimes. I know of rulers who have even tortured for fun and pleasure, but I am not like that.” Nor released her arm and took a step back. “I have, other tools at my disposal,” he said as he waved the scepter menacingly close to her face. The purple crystal popped and hissed as yellow bolts arced out and zapped the woman’s hair and forehead. “Tell me where your husband is, and I shall spare you. However, try to defend him, or lie to me about your involvement, and I will kill you.”
Nor reached up and undid the gag. The women sucked in a deep breath and then spat in Nor’s face.
“Khefir take you!” she shouted.
Nor sighed and wiped the spittle from his face.
“You are fortunate that my mother raised me never to hit a woman.” The purple crystal glowed brightly and the woman was lifted from the ground. She winced and tried to scream, but the magic trapped her voice so she could no longer speak. “Don’t bother fighting it,” Nor said. “To do so is futile. Besides, it won’t hurt anyway.”
The crystal sent out a long, snake-like tendril that slowly slithered into the woman’s nose. She went rigid and then Nor closed his eyes and groaned as the crystal empowered him to join his mind with hers. He sifted through the memories in her mind. He waded past her fears and innermost desires. A dark cloud of swirling thoughts surrounded him, closing in. Traversing another person’s mind was dangerous. Unskilled wizards could lose their own soul during such spells, or perhaps slip away into a deathly coma. Nor was undaunted. He pushed back the clutter and continued to delve deeper into the woman’s mind until he found what he was looking for.
He played through the memories of her husband from the time they met up until the last few days, just before the man had betrayed Nor. Unfortunately, the traitor knew what Nor was capable of. There was no memory in the woman’s head detailing where the traitor was going. Instead, there was only a tear-filled farewell as the wife pleaded with him to stay and he apologized over and over before leaving his wife alone in a dark room.
Nor had seen enough.
He withdrew from the woman’s mind and she gently floated back down to the floor as the tendril slid out from her body and the crystal released its magical grip on her.
“I see that you had no part in planning his betrayal, or the kidnapping,” Nor said.
The woman stood silent, shaking and with tears in her eyes.
“Still, you knew that he was going to betray me, and you let him go. Why didn’t you stop him?” Nor shook his head. “I am a merciful king, so I will not pronounce judgment upon you now. I shall have the court deal with you later. For now, be gone.” Nor waved his hand and the doors unlocked and opened. The two guards from before entered and took the weary woman away, half-dragging her along as her body struggled to recover from the powerful spell Nor had used.
The tall, bearded wizard closed the doors and then moved back to his chair. He needed some good news. He pulled his dagger up again and contacted Zek once more. The smoky apparition smiled and bowed its head.
“My king, the runner has brought me the hair.”
“Did it help?” Nor asked. “Is it from the traitor?”
Zek smiled wider and shook his head. “Better than that, my king. The hair belongs to the child he took. We now know where they are.”
“Good, send your men, bring my child back to me!”
*****
Garrin pulled on his linen trousers and slipped his feet into his moccasins. He shuffled across the floor of his cabin, rubbing a weary hand across his eyes. He had worked late into the night, which in turn meant that he had slept until almost lunch time. He could hear Rux and Kiska growling and playing in the snow in front of the cabin. He went to his kitchen area, stoked the fire in the stone oven, and then set a pot of coffee on top and grabbed a half loaf of bread. He tore a bite off in his mouth and began to chew as he opened the front door and stepped out into the cold air. His skin reacted instantly, tightening with prickly bumps before growing accustomed to the temperature outside.
He turned in and reached for a light coat hanging on the inside of the doorway and pulled it over his naked torso. Then, he made his way to the workshop and inspected the skins. Each of them were stretching on their racks. Luckily, neither of the split-tails had bothered them last night.
The trapper turned and began making his way back to his cabin when he saw Rux and Kiska leap away from each other, throwing a flurry of snow about them, and then stand rigid with their heads hanging low and their lips curling back in wicked snarls.
Garrin looked out in the same direction and soon a pair of horses came into view. A man and a young boy rode toward him, with a pack mule in tow. Garrin took another bite of his bread and watched as the strangers came. Rux and Kiska growled low, but made no move to attack. The horses were larger than most Garrin had seen, with thick fur over their bodies and long tufts sticking out from behind their hooves. They looked somewhat like the draft horses he had seen in the city where he had initially trained for his assignment with the Frontier Legion, but those had never been as heavily furred as these he now saw.
“Easy now,” Garrin said.
As soon as the man atop the lead horse saw the split-tails, he stopped his horse and held his hand out to stop the young boy also.
“Hello to the house,” the man called out. “We mean no harm.”
Garrin swallowed his third bite of bread and took a couple of steps out into the open.
“Hello,” he said flatly. “No harm to be had here among friends,” he added. The man nodded, but Garrin noted that his eyes never strayed from the split-tails.
“Perhaps we are lost,” the man offered. “We are looking for a trapper named Garrin.”
“You found him,” Garrin said. “Have you come on business or pleasure?” Garrin asked. It wasn’t often that he entertained visitors, and those who did come usually arrived with small pelts they wanted to trade to him.
“A bit of both,” the man said. “I am William Stenton, this is my nephew Richard Estrada. We are seeking a guide.”
“A guide?” Garrin repeated. “You must certainly be lost, then,” he chuckled. “Cherry Brook is your best bet for a guide. Look for a man named Orin, just don’t bother yourself with his cousin, Enin. Enin is a soft man who stays close to comfort. Orin is the one you want.”
“Already spoke with Orin, he refused the job,” William said.
Garrin took another bite and chewed it thoroughly before swallowing.
“And what makes you think I will take the job?”
“Jacop, back at the general store, told me to find you. He said you were the best.”
Garrin nodded. “That may be, but it depends on what you mean by the best. If you mean the best trapper, then that’s me. If you mean the best woodsman out in these parts, then again, that’s me. But, if you’re looking for the best guide to babysit a couple of city folk while they get their kicks in the wilds, that would be Orin. I don’t hire out as a guide. I don’t care to pander to fancy nobles with deep pockets.”
William moved to dismount, but Kiska took
a menacing step forward and he froze in the saddle.
“If I dismount and approach, will he attack?” William asked.
Garrin shrugged. “I imagine she will bite you if you call her a boy again, but as long as you are polite, she won’t cause you any trouble.”
William nodded. “She,” he repeated. “Sorry ‘bout that,” he said to Kiska. He slowly slung his leg over the horse and lowered himself from the saddle. Kiska stalked closer, her cat-like paws making absolutely no sound at all. “Easy now, I just want to talk,” William said.
Kiska moved in closer. William’s horse whinnied and trotted away, glancing nervously over its shoulder. William stood still as a tree. Kiska came within a few yards and sniffed the air.
Garrin laughed softly and broke the tension with a sharp whistle and a quick double-clap of his hands.
“Back off now,” he told Kiska. The split-tail broke her gaze and turned as if now entirely disinterested in the newcomer. “She likes to make sure she is number two in the pecking order, that’s all,” Garrin explained. “To your credit, most would have turned and run. You did well.”
William nodded and wiped his hands on his sides.
“Well, I am sure if she wanted to make a meal of me, there wouldn’t be much I could do to convince her otherwise.”
Garrin let out a hearty chuckle. “No, I suspect not.”
“Listen,” William said with sudden earnestness in his voice. “I have a very simple proposition for you. My nephew and I are scheduled to meet with relatives in Brywood. We need a guide to lead us in the right direction.”
“Brywood?” Garrin repeated. “You would have done better to skirt the southern coast and then travel around the Dryden Range entirely.”
William shook his head. “It is a matter of life and death,” he said. “We have family matters that must be resolved as soon as possible. Skirting the coast would take weeks, maybe even months longer than the time we have available. We must cut across Geberron Pass.”