“Yes,” he said tentatively. “Have you ever heard of it?”
“Oh yes sir,” she replied, smiling. “I grew up near the Kinfen mountains. Dathos is a famous leader from my village’s history and the ruins of his watch-tower can still be seen on a clear day. I may be wrong, but I think he used to call his house ‘the keep’. The house itself is at the bottom of a deep valley and the only way to it without riding along the valley for a number of days is through a secret passage in the watch-tower. Or so the rumour goes, anyway. ”
Seth took the pail from her cold hands and handed it to Dal. “Would you mind coming with me?” he asked, gently taking her by the arm.
She appeared a little flustered at the attention as colour rose in her cheeks. “It has been a long while since I have been asked that by a nice young man.”
Seth beamed at her. “I am sure that is not true,” he replied, leading her along the corridor towards Tor’s suite.
“What am I supposed to do with this?” Dal called after them, holding the pail out in front of him.
Tor was in his room and welcomed his guests in. “Find something to clean,” Seth hollered to Dal before closing the door, though not quickly enough to stop him hearing the reply.
“Does he know what that actually means?” he asked Tor before apologising to the maid for having to hear such foul language.
The old lady chuckled. “I was young once too you know.”
She was escorted to a comfortable chair and, at Seth’s request, repeated the statement she had made to him.
“I knew you were worth bringing with me,” Tor said before sending Seth off to the kitchen for refreshments and also to find the others. Once they were all assembled, the maid told what she knew for the third time. She was being treated as an honoured guest so did not mind having to keep repeating herself.
“You are absolutely sure that your village’s historic figure was called Dathos?” Bellak asked her, staring at her intently.
Bellak made her nervous so she timidly nodded her head instead of answering vocally.
“Then we head off in the morning,” Tor announced. “It looks like we are going back to Kinfen.”
Chapter 28
“So how do we let the others know where we have gone?” Ellen voiced the question that was on everyone’s mind.
“I have no idea,” Tor admitted. “I am estimating that Ban and the others will not arrive for at least another week and I do not want to have to wait for them. We can easily leave a new message at the inn, but they could end up just chasing after us forever.”
“And Hawk is also on his way, remember,” Sam reminded them all.
“Frack,” Seth swore. “We should have thought of this before splitting the team up.”
“Watch your language,” Tor warned him, casting a look at the elderly maid. Seth had the decency to be embarrassed.
“Do any of us have anything that would have any of their scents on them?” Ellen enquired, an idea forming in her mind.
“I still have one of Hawk’s cloaks in my bag,” Sam said. “He lent it to me a while ago to cover myself when I slept in his coffin and I never got around to giving it back,” she quickly added, looking at Brin out of the corner of her eye.
“And I have one of Liselle’s scarves,” Ria volunteered.
“Why?” Tor asked uneasily. He had a horrible feeling he was not going to like what Ellen was about to suggest.
“The Duke owned a couple of tracker hounds. Since he is dead I think they now belong to Tibia and I am sure she will allow us to borrow them.”
A shocked silence filled the room.
“What’s the problem?” Sam enquired. It was Patrick who responded, his voice hard and emotionless.
“A dozen tracker hounds were created a few hundred years ago by an evil wizard, purely for the purpose of hunting down and killing his enemies. Thankfully none of them exist now; all have been successfully destroyed. However, before they were captured and eliminated, they were bred with normal domestic dogs and it is the half-breeds that are still in existence. These creatures are lethal. Once they have been given a scent to follow, they will not deviate from their assigned task until it is completed. While they will not specifically attack someone who is not their intended target, they will not hesitate to savage anyone who gets in their way; man, woman or child. Mortal weapons do not harm them and, if they lose a scent, they will eventually pick it up again. It is impossible to shake them once they are on your trail.”
He turned to face Ellen, fury simmering in his eyes. “I died once trying to save a friend from one of those beasts. How can you even think of using them? They are nothing but savage killers. If I had my way they would all be destroyed.”
“Hear me out,” Ellen requested in a soothing voice. “While everything that Patrick said is true, they are not quite as bad as he is making them out to be. They obey every order they are given, not matter what it is. If they are instructed to not harm any human being, they will not do so.”
Patrick snorted in disgust, but Tor was prepared to listen. “I think I see where you are going with this. They could be used to carry a message to our friends.” He tapped his teeth with his fingers as he thought, having subconsciously picked up Tibia’s habit. “But how will we get them to understand that they are to deliver a message only, not kill them. Or anyone else, for that matter.”
Ellen looked at Sam and a smile spread across Tor’s face. “Mistress Sam,” he said formally to her. “Will you agree to speak with the tracker hounds for us?”
“No.” Brin rose and stood in front of Sam. “I will not allow her to take that risk. They could tear her apart before she even has the chance to open her mouth.”
“We will take no risks,” Tor assured him. “I presume they are kept in secure cages.” Ellen nodded. “Sam would be able to speak to them without being in danger.”
“The answer is still no.”
Sam laid her hand gently on Brin’s arm. “I appreciate your concern, but it is my decision to make, not yours.” She looked up at Tor and Ellen. “Take me to the hounds.”
First they found Queen Tibia and told her of their plans. She shared Patrick’s concerns about using the hounds, but agreed to let Sam speak to them. They were led to the back of the palace grounds, close to where the cats exercised. The hounds were kept in a huge cage, which only the Duke and their keeper were ever permitted to enter. At the far end of the cage was an enclosed area, providing the resident beasts with some privacy. As they were nowhere in sight when the group approached, they assumed that that was where the animals were hiding; at least they hoped that was the case. The only other possibility was that they had escaped and that was something none of them wished to think about.
“I never come down here,” Tibia confessed. “I knew the Duke owned these creatures, but, to the best of my knowledge, he never used them and I did not realise I had the authority to order them destroyed. Maybe I should, once you have finished with them.” She walked up to the cage, trembling slightly. “Even the kitties avoid this place,” she added in a quiet voice.
She abruptly stepped back as she heard movement from within the cage. The sound of her voice had awoken the hounds from their slumber and they eased slowly into view, sniffing the air as they did so.
They were not as large as Sam had been expecting; not much taller than an Alsatian, though more heavily built. They were completely black, even their eyes, which made you feel like prey as soon as they fell on you. Samson regarded them contemptuously, his expression suggesting that he did not see what all the bother was about and that he could easily defend the humans against a couple of dogs. One of them growled softly, curling back its lip to reveal a large sharp fang. As Tibia slowly eased away from the cage, Sam made her way forwards, speaking to them in a soft, calming voice. Nobody could make out what was being said, but the hounds appeared to be listening. When she was close enough to touch the side of the cage, she sat down. The two hounds approached her, each slow
step deliberate and menacing. Brin started to move forward, but was pulled back by Patrick. When they were as close as they could get, the two dogs sat down on their haunches, regarding her curiously. No human had ever spoken their language before and they were unsure how they were supposed to react.
Sam continued to speak to them calmly, though it took all of her self control to not scream and run away. If they managed to get hold of her, she would be unable to protect herself, and they knew it, however they made no attempt to get out of the cage. She carefully explained who she was and why she was there. They showed no reaction to her ‘words’ until she told them they were going to be requested to hunt some people down to deliver a message to them, not to harm them.
They cocked their heads to one side and regarded her intently. “Why no kill prey?” one of them asked.
Sam explained that the people she wished tracked down were part of her pack. They had become separated and she needed the pack to be together again. This the hounds understood and accepted. Sam then said that, should the canines agree to accept their mission, they were to only attack for food. No creature, human or otherwise, was to be hurt in any way, other than to provide a meal. The hound that had so far remained silent, licked his lips. Sam, realising what the gesture meant, pointed out that anything that walks on two legs was not food and they were not permitted to eat them. The tongue stopped moving, but was not withdrawn, making the large dog appear almost comical; not that any of the observers were brave enough to laugh. The two animals reluctantly nodded, then looked towards the cage door.
“Give me the scarf and the cloak,” Sam instructed as she pushed herself off the ground and made her way to the entrance to the cage, the two dogs mirroring her steps from the inside. Brin passed the items to her before backing away. He had to put a little space between himself and Sam in case either of the hounds attacked and he needed to put an arrow into its heart. Sam nodded at the hounds’ keeper and, with trembling hands, he unbolted the door and swung it open. The two dogs ignored him and walked sedately over to where Sam was holding out the clothing. Each chose one to sniff and immediately nodded, confirming that the scent was firmly fixed in their minds.
“How will they know where to go?” Dal asked from where he was hiding behind Patrick.
“Show them a map,” Sam suggested. “They are highly intelligent creatures. We know the likely routes both Hawk and the others will take. The hounds assure me they will be able to recognise roads and rivers and they already know the names of many towns and their locations.”
A servant was sent to locate the most accurate maps in the palace while Tor withdrew to write the letters that the hounds would deliver. Letters would also be left at the inn, in case the hounds failed to find their quarry before they arrived at Tennel, but everyone hoped that would not be the case. They needed all of those still travelling to change course and head for the mountains as soon as possible.
“Would it not be easier to spread the maps out over the floor in one of the rooms inside the palace?” Sam asked.
“You are joking,” Patrick exclaimed. “Let those monsters loose inside the palace? I think not.”
“They are not a danger. They have agreed not to harm anyone.”
“And you are going to take their word are you?”
“I will.” The conviction in Tibia’s voice surprised them all. “I, for one, will not be comfortable bending over a map out here.”
The hounds received a few nervous glances as they made their way to the palace, but they behaved perfectly until they entered the building and a guard pointed his sword at them. Simultaneously, they bared their teeth at him, making him scream in fright and run away, dropping his sword on the floor with a loud clank. They proceeded to an empty reception room, unmolested, bumping into a servant laden down with maps on the way. The maps were quickly inspected and the most useful ones spread on the floor. If the servant was shocked to see his Queen get down on the floor on her hands and knees, he was too professional to comment on it. Tor arrived with his letters and handed two to the servant, one addressed to Hawk, the other to Ban. He informed the man which inn they were to be delivered to and that the innkeeper was to throw away the previous notes he had left there. The servant departed and all eyes turned to the maps on the ground.
One map was an excellent piece of work, with every river, city and village in Auxland clearly labelled, as well as the main roads. This was quickly discarded as too detailed. The next showed the same area, but with only the important features. This too was quickly placed in the ‘not appropriate’ pile. The hounds would probably need to leave Auxland so a map showing just that country was useless for their purpose. The third one gave them everything they needed. All of Auxland was shown as well as part of Amenia, including Vada, from where Hawk had hopefully already commenced his journey. All rivers, major roads and cities were clearly drawn with the right amount of detail. Tor beckoned to Sam and the hounds and unceremoniously pushed the others out of the way.
“We are currently here,” Tor said, pointing to Tennel with his sword. Sam translated for the hounds, which appeared to nod their heads in agreement. “Our friends left from here and are heading to Tennel via this road.” Tor traced their route with the point of his sword, carefully keeping it just above the map so as not to cause any damage. Once again Sam translated, indicating that this was the route the hound who had sniffed Liselle’s scarf must take. When she was happy that she had been understood, Tor continued.
“And this is the route that we think Hawk will take.” He pointed to Vada then followed the roads through Amenia and Auxland. He paused and glanced up at Sam. “You had better mention that he may fly via a more direct route. I do not think he will as I cannot see him leaving his coffin behind, but you never know.” Sam did as instructed and soon she was happy that both hounds knew the scent of their quarry, where they needed to go to find their trail and that they should return home as soon as their mission was complete.
“You are certain that they understand that nobody is to be hurt?” Patrick asked Sam, for the umpteenth time. “Not that the death of Liselle would be any great loss,” he said under his breath.
“Yes,” Sam replied in exasperation, ignoring his comment. “They have assured me they will harm no creature other than to eat, and even then it will only be animals.”
“And you believe them.”
“What you class as lower forms of life do not know how to lie.” Sam was getting irritated with Patrick’s lack of faith and did not bother to try to hide it. The concern that Samson had lied to her, and therefore invalidated what she had just said, she pushed to the back of her mind.
“But their ancestors have been magically tampered with,” Patrick persisted, pointing towards the two hounds, who were calmly sitting down, enjoying the show.
“Enough,” Tor snapped. “The decision has been made. They are being sent whether you agree with the decision or not.”
Patrick looked like he was going to continue to argue, but backed down and walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him. “Now?” Sam asked.
“Now,” Tor agreed. “How do we attach the letters to the dogs? They cannot carry them all the way in their mouths.”
“The same way we use birds to deliver messages?” Seth suggested.
“Tie it to one of their legs you mean?” Seth gave Dal a disgusted look.
“No. Put it in a tube on a chain round their necks, stupid.” Dal blushed bright scarlet. Tibia rang a bell and a maid answered her call. She told her what she required and the girl soon returned, tubes and chains in hand. The hounds did not react to having things placed around their necks, though only Sam was brave enough to do it. As soon as she was satisfied that the letters were secure, the hounds were sent on their way.
“I hope I am not making a big mistake,” Tor confided to those who remained in the room. If he was hoping for reassurance, he was disappointed.
Preparations were made for their own departure early the n
ext morning. Tibia agreed to provision them with horses, blankets and enough food to last them a week. They would be following one of the main roads until they got closer to the mountains so purchasing more supplies along the way should not be a problem. The old maid, whose village they were going to, had agreed to accompany them. Once they left the main road she would guide them from village to village until they reached their destination. For once, they would be staying in inns instead of makeshift campsites. While the maid said she was more than happy to sleep rough for a few weeks, Tor refused to allow her to do so, insisting that her health was more important than saving the cost of a room for the night. Tibia also wanted her maid taken good care of, insisting that she ride in a cart instead of on a horse. She had served at the palace for many years and Tibia hoped that she would continue to do so for a long time to come.
Due to the unrest in the country, Queen Tibia offered to lend them a company of soldiers to act as escorts, but they declined. They were used to looking after themselves and did not want to risk being slowed down. The necessity of taking a cart with them would delay them considerably, but nobody argued against the decision.
The morning arrived, bright and sunny, and, as usual, everybody was ready on time. The cart was loaded and Seth helped the maid up into the seat before taking the driver’s place next to her. She turned out to be a very interesting woman and those riding horses found themselves pushing for position close to the cart whenever she regaled Seth with tales of her younger days.
As the days went by, they passed many signs of fierce battles having been fought in the recent past, but were not unfortunate enough to encounter any still going on. On the fifth day of their journey, the road they were on went past a large estate and they were hailed from the road leading up to the main house. Tor called a halt, but warned everyone to be on their guard in case of trouble. Brin removed his bow from his shoulder and Patrick, Cirren and Dal all placed their hands on their swords, though they did not draw them from their sheaths. Seth had stored a flail behind his seat and he leaned back and carefully picked it up and placed it in his lap.
The Maze Page 33