The Way to Freedom: The Complete Season One (Books 1-5): An Epic Fantasy Action Adventure (The Way to Freedom Series)

by H. M. Clarke

  “Well. What’s done is done.” Harada relaxed his stance and broke a twig off of a nearby bush and began to half-heartedly strip the leaves from it.

  “Yes. What’s done is done.” Vosloo turned to look back at the camp.

  Harada looked as well. The place was hushed and subdued. It did not have the loud laughter and singing as it had nights previously. The news of the IceTigers use of Mind Bolts had swept through the camp like wildfire and then to hear that one of their own was missing and presumed captured …

  Harada tried not to think about it.

  “We will not tell them about the message. Hopefully they do not hear of it.” Harada dropped his twig to the ground and rubbed his hands together to get some warmth in them. “We will also not tell them about the Wing Commanders disappearance.”

  The Captain turned back swiftly to look at Harada. “Why in the One’s name not?”

  “I do not need to explain my reasoning to you,” Harada said with a smile to soften his statement.

  “Humph,” was all the reply he received.

  “We will say that you have sent her and the search party to investigate the source of these Mind Bolts. I really do not want them to know just how important she is to us.”

  “You mean you don’t want word to get back to Fellian about how important she is to Garrick.”

  Harada nodded in the darkness.

  “Sending a messenger direct to Prince Garrick is like waving a big red flag over Kalena’s head showing Fellian’s spies where to look.” Vosloo thumped a fist into his thigh in frustration as what he had truly done sank in.

  “Very well Harada. I will bow to your judgment as I have always done.”

  Harada could not tell if the resentment in the Captain’s voice was directed at him or the situation. No matter what it was directed at, the Wing Commander ignored it. Vosloo resented the fact that Harada wanted them to approach Inman with this information rather than having the Justicar summoned to the Captain’s tent. He wanted Inman to be thrown off guard and having Vosloo come to him rather than the other way around would work to their advantage.

  “Well and good then. Let us go and get this over with.”

  Justicar Banner Inman, a black lounging robe wrapped tightly about his body, sat behind his camp desk. He had not said a word during the Captain’s report and now he sat glaring at both Harada and Vosloo.

  Harada kept his gaze on the small camp table, a step behind the Captain who as a Freeman had a higher ranking in the eyes of the Justicars. The Wing Commander did not mind. Harada felt uncomfortable enough standing in the middle of the Justicar’s command tent without being directly under the ice-cold eyes of Inman. It was the first time he had been here. The taunt black canvas rippled in the night breeze and Harada was conscious of the red dust that they had both tracked over the lush gold carpet.

  Vosloo did not appear not to mind, on entering the tent he stamped his boots to shake as much of the dust off as he can. Large black candle stands stood behind the Justicar, their flickering light making Inman’s sun bleached blonde hair glow unnaturally again the dark backdrop of the tent.

  To Harada, the camp table was the most interesting object in this place. Across the table was strewn numerous papers and scrolls along with a partially unrolled map of the grasslands and the northern foothills. Several small red stones that had been collected from outside were holding down the unrolled section of the map but the harsh red ink from Inman’s scratchings did not draw Harada’s attention as much as the half opened letter that lay upon it.

  The wax seal glinted in the candlelight and Harada could see the impression in it clearly. It was the mark made by his mother’s signet ring, a ring now used by his father’s whore. Seeing the seal bought unbidden memories to Harada’s mind, happy memories of when his mother was young and full of life. This seal was the symbol of the Legal Consort of Suene, but to allow a mistress its use…Harada felt appalled at the thought.

  From this angle, Harada could not read the script but the date was clear. It was written two days ago and to the side of the map was a sheet of Parchment half filled with the Justicar’s scrawl. Harada stood staring at the map deep in thought only to be interrupted by the voice of the Justicar.

  “What makes you think that I am interested in what happens to those feathered freaks. The Icetigers can kill them all for all I care. The Empire did well enough before we took that Island and we would be much better off if we killed every feathered thing on it.”

  Inman’s voice was soft and lecturing but he meant every single word he said. All Justicars thought that way. They have said the same things about the Pydarki. Harada’s great great great grand father had exempted them from the Second Born Rule in exchange for the secrets of the Krytal.

  “You are the Intelligence Officer. Come up with some Intelligence that I can use. It would have been nice to have had some warning of this.” The Captain restrained himself from saying any more and Harada was glad of that.

  Inman made a show of yawning into his sleeve before moving the papers around on his desk. When he had finished, Fellian’s letter and his reply were covered.

  “As you can see I have no information to give you regarding the Icetigers. But if it makes you feel better, why don’t you send out a land search party to find this thing? You would have better luck with that then trusting those feathered lizards.”

  ‘Feathered lizards! I’ll show him feathered lizards.’ Samar’s voice blistered into Harada’s mind.

  ‘Leave it be Samar. Don’t show him anything. Remember he’s a Justicar.’

  “I just might do that Inman. Thanks for the help.” Vosloo said before turning and exiting the tent leaving Harada to beat a hasty retreat after him.

  The Wing Commander followed the Captain through the camp until they reached Vosloo’s tent. Once inside they both collapsed into camp chairs and laughed to dispel the tension that both men felt. After the laughter had subsided Harada sat forward in his chair, his elbows resting on its rickety arms.

  “Inman and Fellian have been exchanging correspondence. There was a letter from her on his desk that was not two days old.”

  Vosloo nodded. “I saw it as well and I was able to read a little of his reply before he covered it. He was reporting to her about our movements and location. I also saw both our names written but I could not read in relation to what.”

  The chair squeaked as Harada leaned back. “Would he know anything about our plans?”

  “Of course he doesn’t. Fellian just has him watching us because of our relationship to Garrick.” Vosloo raised a hand to the bandage around his head.

  “Maybe. All the same, I’m going to have Samar keep an eye out tomorrow for the bird that the Justicar is going to send and see if we can intercept it. It would be nice to see exactly what he is telling her.”

  “Better tell Samar not to eat it.” Vosloo laughed again. He knew that the feathered lizard comment would not have gone well with her.

  “She won’t. Samar is more likely to eat Inman than a pigeon.”

  Both men laughed, truly relaxing for the first time this night.

  “Are you truly going to send out another search party?” Harada finally asked after the laughter died.

  “Yes. Garrick entrusted the girl to me and I should be the one out looking for her. I will organize a squad tonight and we will leave first thing tomorrow.”

  “I know I can’t talk you out of it so I’ll leave and wish you luck now.”

  Vosloo rose with Harada and both men gripped each other in a fierce hug.

  “Just remember to tell which ever lieutenant you leave in command that they should take my advice at times while you are away,” Harada said as he leaned back and clapped Vosloo on the shoulder.

  “Those Mind Bolts first started attacking Adhamh while we were flying around Daegarouf and that makes me wonder,” Vosloo said abruptly as Harada was turning to leave.

  The Wing Commander raised an eyebrow in surprise as he turne
d back to look at the Captain. “Why?”

  Vosloo stepped away and started to step back and forth across the open area of his tent, reminding Harada of the Duke of Morcar’s frantic pacing.

  “The Pydarki do not tolerate anyone treading around that precious rock of theirs. Why did they allow the Icetigers and whoever made that bolt access to their mountain?”

  “They most probably did not even know they were there. After all was it not you yourself who told the council that the Icetigers can appear from nowhere and attack?”

  Vosloo stopped his pacing and raised a finger to his lips as if considering Harada’s words.

  “Well, maybe you’re right,” he finally said and tried to give Harada a reassuring smile. “You had better go back to your own camp now. You have an early start tomorrow.”

  Harada turned back as he held up the tent flap to leave.

  “Just don’t do anything stupid Fraser.”

  The Captain smiled

  “That’s what men call bravery Harada.”

  “I know and many men have died because of it.”

  Then the Wing Commander was gone, the tent flap swaying in his passing.

  Chapter Seven

  The Hunt

  The officer held a hand over his brow to cut the glare of the sun from his eyes. Beside him sat Captain Fraser Vosloo on a monster of a horse that was a twin to Prince Garrick’s.

  It had taken two days of careful tracking to find this location but now no further trace of their passage was seen. The officer did not know who his men were trailing except that they were on foot and there were at least six of them. His man had found a very well concealed camp in a large clearing about half a day’s ride from here and it was only by chance that Hanton had found white animal hair on an oak where it had scratched itself.

  “Lieutenant, what is your man doing?”

  Dalon Peana started at the mention of his title. Beside him, Captain Vosloo moved to make himself more comfortable in the saddle. Dalon’s eyes moved to watch Hanton as he quartered the ground before them. The rest of his men sat their horses behind himself and the Captain so as not to disturb what tracks might remain in the sea of grass.

  “He is searching Captain, give him time.”

  Captain Vosloo leaned forward in his saddle, resting his arms on the high pommel.

  “They get further and further away, the more time we spend looking.” The Captain said more to himself than to Dalon, but the officer answered anyway.

  “It is best that we spend time finding tracks, otherwise we might find ourselves on a wild goose chase by following the wrong signs. Then whoever we are tracking would be further ahead or lost to us completely.”

  “I know, I know,” Captain Vosloo replied. “But I cannot stand the waiting and I do not want anything to happen to her.”

  “Then we are not just hunting Icetigers?” Dalon asked casually.

  The Captain did not reply.

  They waited a long while in silence until Hanton stopped suddenly, dropping out of sight to his haunches to study something hidden in the long grass.

  Dalon stood in his stirrups to see if he could get a better look.

  “Found anything?” he called.

  Hanton continued studying the trace a moment longer before replying to his Lieutenant.

  “Yep. A clear set of tracks heading straight into the plains, Lieutenant Peana. ”

  The tracker stood up from his crouch and arranged his uniform back into place. It never seemed to fit the man who was too tall and too lanky to get any of his clothes to sit properly.

  Hanton irritably brushed his mop of brown hair from his eyes before pointing towards the distant mountain range.

  “In that direction, Sir.”

  “How old are the tracks?” Dalon called back.

  “Over a day old at least.”

  “Are you sure it is theirs?” Captain Vosloo asked.

  “Definitely. The paw print shows the same misgrown claw in it as that one I found at the camp site.”

  Hanton brushed his hands on his trousers as he walked back towards them. “There is something here that doesn’t quite fit though I can’t put my finger on it.” He said more to himself though everyone heard it.

  “What is it?” The Captain asked him.

  Hanton jumped when he realized who was talking to him. The man touched a hand to his forehead as he bowed to Captain Vosloo.

  “I don’t know, Captain. It’s just something…something doesn’t look right.”

  “I see.” Captain Vosloo turned impatient eyes on Dalon.

  “We move out, have your man lead the way.” Captain Vosloo heeled his horse into a trot.

  Dalon turned to his men; raised his voice, “Move out.”

  The horses came forward at a trot with Hanton quickly mounting and racing ahead to follow what little signs had been left behind.

  They now ate trail rations in the saddle, as Captain Vosloo did not want to stop to eat and lose time. The only stops they had that day were when Hanton had to dismount to carefully study indistinguishable signs to make sure they were on the right track. After he was finished, they would move on again and it was always in the same direction – towards the Bhaliger Mountains.

  Dalon rode silently next to the Captain who always stared ahead as if hoping to see something in the distance, not making any conversation as if that too would waste the time needed for this search.

  As dusk approached Hanton rode into a small dell and immediately leapt from his horse to search the ground.

  The rest of the group stopped on the lip of the dell, watching Hanton combing the earth with the last rays of the setting sun.

  “They were here last night, again no fire and only the barest trace that anyone had been here. There is something familiar about this Lieutenant Peana.” Hanton said as he finished his search in the centre of the dell.

  “What is familiar?” Dalon asked as he dismounted from his horse.

  “If I didn’t know any better I’d say that we were tracking Pydarki.”

  The Lieutenant looked across his saddle to the Captain who had also dismounted and saw the disbelief that crossed his face.

  “Devious bastards,” Dalon heard the Captain say to himself.

  “Captain?”

  Vosloo flicked the stirrup up on his saddle and began to unhitch the girth strap.

  “We camp here tonight and tomorrow we head straight to Daegarouf.”

  “Daegarouf!” Dalon said in shock. “We will not be allowed to go within a mile of its base without being turned back by their warriors. They do not like visitors.”

  “They will let us through.” The Captain said. “They will let me through.”

  They rode on through the next day, only stopping to rest the horses enough during the day to continue their journey.

  Captain Vosloo pulled Hanton back to ride beside Dalon. He saw no need for a tracker now that he knew their destination. Dalon rode with the Captain who said little except to give commands and give curt answers to unwelcome questions.

  That night, the Captain pulled a large glass bottle of wine from his saddlebags and poured out a generous helping into the cups of each solider present. Just as the sun was setting he raised his cup in a silent tribute.

  “We drink to the dead.” Captain Vosloo said and drank from his cup followed by the soldiers who stood silently around him. None knew who he drank to but the wine was much welcome.

  “May they rest in peace.” Draining the rest of his cup, the Captain corked what was left in his bottle and returned it to his saddlebags. He then sat away from the campfires, away from the rest of the men, deep in his own thoughts.

  When Dalon came to give the Captain his meal, he found him staring at an old folded piece of stained parchment that he hastily tucked back into his doublet pocket when he realized that the Lieutenant was approaching.

  Dalon asked him no questions but sat and ate his meal with Vosloo. The man was troubled, and from Dalon’s experience,
silent company sometimes helped ease a man’s mind.

  The company rode hard for several days, eating trail rations when they could and bringing down game to supplement this when they were able.

  Ahead of them loomed the Bhaliger Mountains and towering above the range was Daegarouf, its crown covered by thick white cloud. Dalon inwardly shivered whenever it caught his eye. The Lieutenant had heard many stories about the mountain, some he knew to be blatant lies but others… he had heard other stories from men under his command. Men he knew could not lie to save their mothers. Men who’s courage he would not question but at the mention of the mountain’s name would turn to mush. He had seen many harsh things in his life – he was one of the few officers to have risen from the ranks – but nothing he had seen compared to those tales.

  Hanton rode quietly beside him deep in his own thoughts. Since the Captain had taken the lead, the tracker had nothing to do except to think, eat and sleep.

  “How did you know that there were Pydarki in that group?” Dalon asked on the spur of the moment. He could only stand the ride in silence for so long.

  The tracker jumped out of his thoughts with a start.

  “I didn’t say that I knew, I said it ‘looks like’ they were.”

  “Why did you think that?” Dalon asked, from the Captain’s reaction to the news he had a feeling that Hanton had hit the nail right on the head.

  The tracker shrugged. “The way the trail was disguised. The technique used to cover or hide the tracks. It just looked like what the Pydarki use when they are out hunting.” Hanton turned a quizzical expression to Peana.

  “Why would the Captain want to hunt Pydarki?”

  That’s something I would like to ask him myself. But the Lieutenant only said, “He is not hunting Pydarki, he is hunting the Icetigers. Perhaps they have Pydarki prisoners.”

  The lanky man slowly nodded as if that made sense.

  “When did you gain experience with Pydarki tracking techniques?” Dalon asked.

  “About ten years ago. A group of Emperor’s men went to the Mountain People for intensive training, a group of them came to us to learn some of our ways. I was with that lot for six months and I learnt more in that time than I did in three years apprenticed to the Emperor’s Huntsman.”