The Fur Trader

by Sam Ferguson

  Garrin folded his arms and narrowed his eyes on William. Brywood was not only on the other side of the Dryden Range, it was beyond the Seron River, the northern border of the kingdom. Garrin glanced to the young boy and noted the somber expression on the youth’s face. There was something that wasn’t quite right about this pair, but Garrin couldn’t put his finger on it.

  “What’s so urgent that you would rather chance death in Geberron Pass than take the much safer route along the coast?”

  William cleared his throat and glanced back at the boy before answering.

  “Listen, I’ll pay extra for discretion. We have family business that is most urgent in Brywood. We are meeting a cousin of mine there. Get us safely there and your share will be five thousand gold crowns.”

  Garrin blanched. That was several lifetimes’ worth of payment for a man of Garrin’s station. For all his ten years in the Frontier Legion, he had only ever earned a tenth of that. He didn’t believe the bit about family business for one moment, but the offer was too good not to at least feel out.

  “Half now,” Garrin said.

  William shrugged. “Actually, I was going to offer three thousand now, and the final two thousand upon safe delivery to Brywood. Once there, I can even arrange a place for you to stay and resupply before your return journey.”

  Garrin hadn’t expected that. He had never haggled with anyone who would come to terms on the first number offered, much less anyone who would offer better terms than requested. However, William cleared the air of any doubt when he reached to a large coin purse and tossed it over to Garrin. The large trapper nearly stumbled back a step when he caught the hefty bag in his hands. He opened the drawstring and saw that the bag was filled with large, gold coins stamped with the value of ten crowns each. Something in the back of his mind told him to pass the offer up. It wasn’t smart. Winter was nearly in full swing and the pass was going to be a nightmare.

  Then again, if he stuck to the ruins and the caves, perhaps he could make it through with them. Another thought crept into his mind as he looked up from the bag and narrowed his eyes on the boy. The youth wore an expression he had seen before, many times in fact, on the faces of those about to be attacked by Tarthuns on the frontier. The boy needed help.

  Garrin decided to play along for now and see what he could figure out. Just then, the coffee pot whistled from inside the cabin.

  “Come inside,” Garrin offered. “I have coffee on the stove. You can leave the horses out here by the workshop. Kiska and Rux won’t bother them.”

  Garrin went into the cabin and waited for the others. To his surprise, Rux and Kiska followed William and Richard into the cabin. Now Garrin knew for sure that something was not right. The split-tails would never willingly come in unless they sensed danger, or if perhaps Garrin tricked them with fresh rabbit, but since there was no rabbit now, he knew the split-tails were here for other reasons.

  “Help yourself,” Garrin said as he motioned to the pot. “I need to put on my proper clothes.” Garrin removed his coat and hung it on the hook near the door. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Richard staring at him. Garrin turned to ask why the boy was staring open-mouthed and wide-eyed, but then Richard pointed.

  “What happened to you?” Richard asked.

  Garrin looked down and began chuckling when his eyes found the long, purple scars across the left side of his abdomen.

  “This is from a bear. We had a disagreement of sorts.”

  “A disagreement?” Richard echoed.

  Garrin nodded. “He thought I was dinner, and I thought he was dinner. I won, but he gave me this first.”

  William whistled through his teeth as he poured a bit of coffee into a mug.

  “I assume I can pour some for you as well?” William offered.

  Garrin nodded. He turned his back to his guests and searched for his shirt, but that only caused Richard to gasp.

  “What about your back?” the boy asked. “Did the bear do that?”

  “Nope,” Garrin replied without turning back around. “That was given to me by a Tarthun swordsman.”

  “You fought the Tarthuns?” Richard asked.

  Garrin snorted and turned around. “All young men serve in the army,” he said. “I served ten years in the Frontier Legion.” Garrin pointed up to a round, purple scar on his right shoulder. “Took an arrow to the shoulder in my first year. Broke a few ribs fighting in the eastern plains my second year.” Garrin bent down and pulled up his right pant leg. “Never could figure out what bit me here,” he said as he pointed out a crescent-shaped, jagged scar along his calf. “But I got this my third year while we were crossing some river delta by some caves I don’t remember the name of.” Garrin stood up and turned his right arm over to reveal a long, faded scar along the underside of his forearm. “Got this from a welk two weeks before I got my discharge orders from the legion.”

  “What’s a welk?” Richard asked.

  “Nasty monster that you never want to trifle with,” Garrin said quickly.

  “So after ten years in the army, you thought a life as a trapper to be a fitting retirement?” William asked as he stepped over and handed Garrin a steaming cup of coffee.

  “It’s nice not to have others telling you what to do all the time,” Garrin replied evenly, looking squarely into William’s blue-gray eyes. “What about you, did you serve?”

  William nodded his head. “Not in the Frontier Legion, but yes.”

  “That’s right, I forgot nobles can choose softer assignments,” Garrin said. William bristled, but he didn’t respond to the insult. Instead, Garrin watched as William turned and walked back to the pot of coffee and poured himself some more.

  “And you?” Garrin asked looking to Richard. “When do you begin your service?”

  Richard screwed up his eyebrows and shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  “Don’t know?” Garrin scoffed. “All boys begin service at the age of seventeen. Some as early as fifteen.” Then it hit him. The boy was about that age now. Garrin cocked his head to the side and glanced to William. “Is that it then?”

  “Is what it?” William replied.

  “Dodging military service? What’s the matter with your family, don’t have the right connections to pay for a soft assignment? What, did your father insult someone?” William frowned and looked to Richard. Richard clammed up and backed away from Garrin.

  “We don’t want any trouble. If it’s all the same to you, I would prefer not to discuss our business.”

  Garrin shook his head. “I have no love for the army, but I have to know what I am dealing with. You come here and offer me more wealth than I could earn in three lifetimes to take you across Geberron Pass, in winter no less, and you want me to believe you are just looking for a quick way to settle some business with your cousin?”

  “Enough!” William yelled as he dropped the mug of coffee he was holding.

  Kiska and Rux were up in front of Garrin in an instant, fangs bared and hackles raised. Richard yelped and shied away. William pulled a knife and stepped between Richard and the split-tails.

  “No more talk of his family. His parents are dead, murdered last week. I am getting him out of here to safety with my cousin’s family, and that’s the end of it. I don’t care if you help us or not, but if you stand in my way, I will tear you apart.”

  Garrin could sense the sincerity in William’s voice. He also saw that Richard was cowering behind his uncle. There was a relationship of trust there. Even if it didn’t smell exactly right to Garrin, the two appeared to be in on it together, whatever ‘it’ was.

  “Boy, your parents are dead?” Garrin asked.

  Richard whimpered and turned around.

  William glowered at Garrin. “I said enough! Leave the boy alone, have you no heart?”

  Garrin patted the air. “Rux, Kiska, down.” The two split-tails backed away, although Kiska made sure to keep her eyes on William the whole time. “If you are telling the truth, then I will
help you, but I have to be sure.”

  “What do you mean?” William asked.

  Garrin moved to a wooden crate at the foot of his bed and retrieved a long, cylindrical canister. He turned around and slowly moved toward the table and set the canister down in front of William.

  “What is that?” William asked.

  “This will tell me if you are telling the truth,” Garrin replied evenly.

  William glanced to the canister and then back to Garrin.

  “You’re cracked aren’t you?”

  Garrin shook his head. “Do you have any magical powers or artifacts?” Garrin asked.

  William scrunched up his nose and shook his head.

  “If I did, I wouldn’t be walking through the cursed snow now would I?”

  “So that’s a ‘no’ then?”

  William shouted, “Of course I don’t!”

  Garrin nodded. He opened the top of the canister.

  “If you are telling the truth, then I will help you. If not, then we have a serious problem on our hands.”

  “And what, the can is going to explode if I have magic?”

  “Something like that, yes,” Garrin said with a nod.

  William laughed and put his knife away. “That can is no more magical than I am a wizard. Tell me plainly, will you help us or not?”

  Garrin held a finger up and watched the canister. After several moments of silence, a small, pink, whiskered nose popped up out of the opening. A white, furry head rose up with round ears on top and keen, blue eyes that stared at William.

  “That’s a weasel,” William said. “Come, I grow tired of these games.”

  “No, it’s a Dryfoot mink,” Garrin countered.

  “Those are extinct!” William exclaimed.

  Garrin shook his head. “Not all of them. This one here is named Kaspar.” Garrin clicked his tongue and Kaspar jerked his head around to look at Garrin. Another click of the tongue and Kaspar leapt out of the canister and onto the table. His nose twitched as he sniffed the air. “You do know that Dryfoot minks are able to detect magic in living and inanimate objects, don’t you?”

  “Garrin, I-I told you m-most of the truth,” William stammered. “I have no magic, but the boy does.” Garrin narrowed his eyes on William. “That is why he is in danger. His magic is his curse.”

  “Magic runs in the blood,” Garrin said. “If he is your nephew, then you also have some magic.”

  William shook his head. “No, Richard’s magic comes from his father’s side. My sister and I have no magic in our veins.”

  “No more!” Richard yelled suddenly. He came out from behind his uncle with red, tear-filled eyes. His hands came up and flames appeared in his palms. “Let us go!” Richard let the flames loose through the air.

  The Dryfoot mink reacted quickly, quenching the flames with a water ball that shot out of its mouth and then soaked Richard’s face. The boy sucked in a breath and wiped his face. Garrin made another click with his tongue and Kaspar leapt back into his canister, turning back and angrily chattering at Richard.

  “Kaspar says only the boy has magic,” Garrin announced. “And, now that I have seen the boy is not here under duress, I can agree to help you.”

  “You are a hard man, Garrin,” William said coldly. “Do not let your pet attack my nephew again, or I shall have a mink cap.”

  Garrin smiled. “Kaspar may look cute, but you would have better odds fighting the two split-tails over there. What kind of supplies did Jacop set you up with?”

  “You had better be worth the trouble,” William said sourly as he dug for a list and handed it to Garrin.

  Garrin took the list and smiled. “I have never lost anyone as a guide before,” he said.

  “You said you don’t hire out as a guide,” William reminded Garrin.

  Garrin grinned slyly and winked at William. “I said I don’t hire out as a guide to city folk looking for adventure. I took a man through Geberron Pass once.”

  “Only once?”

  Garrin laughed. “How many times have you gone there?”

  William shook his head. “Can you get us to Brywood?” he pressed.

  The trapper looked to Richard and nodded once. “I can get you there. Do as I say, and you will make it all right.”

  Chapter 4

  Garrin finished preparing his sled while Kiska and Rux paced in front of the cabin. William and Richard were waiting inside, eating a bit of soup. Garrin still felt as though he was missing something, but seeing the ferocity with which Richard had tried to not only defend his uncle, but end the conversation about his family, was enough for the trapper to go on for now.

  Five thousand crowns didn’t hurt either. Once he made it back, he could afford anything. For the first little while he thought of building a large manor, hiring servants, and running Cherry Brook as some sort of governor. Those thoughts soon faded when he realized he could put the money to better use by wooing Belinda. The occasional gift, a fancy dress from the city, or perhaps some sort of furniture brought up from Richwater. Those would at least get him noticed, but Belinda was not a person to be bought, he knew. So he would use some of the money to hire a private dance instructor. He would sweep Belinda off her feet and leave Brent standing along the wall helpless. Or, maybe he could hire a private tutor so he would sound as intelligent as Brent. Perhaps he could buy a business too.

  Garrin shook his head. They were all fine ideas, but the problem was his courage. He could face down a bear with nothing more than a spear, but all the dancing lessons in the world wouldn’t prepare him to speak with Belinda. He supposed that was likely best anyhow. Though it was true that he was one of two men to work in Geberron Pass, the road would be extremely treacherous now. The chances of making it across unscathed were slim at best.

  He pushed the thoughts of Belinda out of his mind as best he could while he packed the last few items for the road. Then, he had Richard and William mount up and he locked his cabin, hoping he would soon return and that he hadn’t just sealed his home for the last time.

  “We are about two hundred and twenty five miles from Brywood,” Garrin told William as he walked around to the back of the sled.

  “That’s not far at all,” William said, sounding encouraged.

  “I mean as a crow flies,” Garrin explained. “The trails we will use will not be straight. We’ll have to skirt around cliffs, lakes, and some rivers. The mountains are heavily wooded and they can be very steep. There will come a point where the horses will no longer be useful. From then on, we will need to use the sled to carry all of our provisions.”

  “What will we do with the horses?” Richard asked.

  Garrin shrugged, “We could eat one of them and turn the other loose with the mule,” he said.

  “Eat the horses?” Richard squeaked.

  Garrin nodded. “If we turn them loose up there, they will likely die anyway, so we may as well make the most use of them we can.”

  “I’m not eating horse,” Richard said.

  “Pipe down,” William scolded. “You’ll do what you have to do.”

  Garrin narrowed his eyes on William, but nodded his agreement.

  “Kiska and Rux could eat one of the horses themselves. If we butcher the other and pack the meat, it could be a real life saver up there.”

  “What of the, er, your animals?” William asked.

  Garrin nodded knowingly. “They can make the journey. We’ll have to dump the sled near the pass though.”

  “I thought mountain passes were a way through,” Richard commented.

  Garrin smiled. “They are, but Geberron Pass was never a particularly safe crossing. It may have been the best place to cross a few hundred years ago, but now it is more of a death trap. Still, if you want to get through Dryden Range, it is the only possible pass.” Garrin paused for a moment and held his arms out. “Second thoughts?”

  William shook his head. “No, let’s be off.”

  Garrin turned to the sled and gave a sharp
whistle. Kiska and Rux tore off through the snow. William and Richard prodded their horses into a trot to keep up. They wound their way through a narrow road which cut its way through the snow-covered pines until they came to the edge of a frozen pond several hours later. Kiska and Rux bounded toward the pond without any command from Garrin; they knew the camping spot well. Garrin unhitched the two split-tails and the animals bounded off, looking for snow hares and other quarry. William and Richard were a whole two minutes behind Garrin, trotting into the clearing next to the pond as Garrin was already pitching his tent made of thick canvas.

  “Why are we stopping?” William asked. “There is plenty of daylight left.”

  Garrin shook his head. “Out here, you have to pace yourself. You hop from campsite to campsite. We don’t do marathon races from sunup to sundown. That’s a sure way to get yourself killed.”

  William didn’t look pleased, but whatever he was thinking behind those stormy blue eyes, he kept it to himself. The two nobles dismounted and led their horses to a large pine tree with low-hanging branches.

  “Be sure to keep all your food packed down wind and in a bear hang.”

  William nodded. The three of them set about preparing the campsite and then Garrin built a fire. William and Richard had some trouble setting up their tent, but Garrin let them struggle through it, occasionally calling out instructions while going about his own chores. They ate supper before the sun had fallen behind the western mountains. None of them talked much. Richard kept his eyes fixed on the flames and Garrin continued to study the pair, still not entirely sure what to make of William.

  Garrin popped open the canister hooked to his belt and stuck a piece of dried meat in for Kaspar. The Dryfoot mink took the morsel and began chattering contentedly as it ate inside its little can.

  “Where did you find him?” William asked, pointing to Kaspar’s canister.

  “Out here in the forest,” Garrin said. “I’m not the best with people, but animals seem to like my company well enough.”

  William nodded appreciatively and smiled. “Well, I have never seen anyone with as many furry companions as you have. It must be a gift from the gods.”