by P. A. Wilson
Above was an abandoned hayloft, the best use for that was as a roof to the bottom. The barn roof had collapsed long ago. Given his choices, Maynard took a front stall. It offered shelter from any wind, a measure of concealment, and he could escape over the low walls if need be. He recognized that the desire to have an exit was simply instinct. No one knew where he was. That thought gave him a shred of comfort as he rolled himself in his cape, the sack with his belongings and the stone wrapped inside with him.
* * *
Something woke him. Wide awake and alert, Maynard kept his eyes closed as he listened. There were no sounds to give him a clue what woke him other than a light susurration of the breeze moving debris outside, the call of a night bird — hunting prey by the tenor. Those were all natural and would not have disturbed his peace. He gently drew in a breath through his mouth to taste any threats, only the taint of goat, and a memory of hay. Had he been woken by a bad dream? Like a frightened child? Impossible, he was not so weak as that.
Maynard knew that opening his eyes would end the possibility of feigning sleep, but his imagination was already filling in the demons. When he did open them, it was to fingers and an arm reaching to unwind his cloak. It was the elf girl.
She reacted to his gaze by striking for her target, his sack. Shocked Maynard couldn’t do anything but react like an animal — attack. He sat up swinging his legs around to sweep hers away while increasing his grip on the stone. She leapt up and avoided his ploy.
Once moving, he was able to think. Springheart would be near, prepared to attack.
Willowvine wasted no time trying again, this time her objective seemed to be rendering him harmless. She launched herself at him, trying to make him fall against the back wall of the barn. Maynard scrambled backward trying to anticipate her next move and locate her partner. If he had been less confident that he had made a clean escape from The City, he would have kept a knife free to defend himself. He cursed, but there was no time to pull the knife from his bag. His only advantage was that the girl didn’t seem to want him dead. Incapacitated, but if dead were an option, they would have killed him before trying to take the stone.
Springheart was still not in evidence, so Maynard focused on the danger he could see. Shuffling away from her attacks was not going to get him out of this. He couldn’t hold the stone and fight back. He couldn’t drop the stone, that’s probably what Springheart was waiting for.
The girl rushed him again, and Maynard saw his chance. He was facing the stall opening. Rather than dodging her, he bent and rushed Willowvine, using his body as a ram. There was no way a frail elf would withstand the contact. As he knew she would, Willowvine leapt to avoid the collision, her feet running across his bent back.
There was no impediment in the open space, nothing between him and the street, a place he could run. Knowing the elves would be as reluctant as he was to alert the villagers, Maynard ran out of the barn, turning east. A short run to the trees would mean he had a better chance of losing the girl.
* * *
Springheart dodged aside to let Maynard run past him. Willowvine was aiming for the man’s back, but he seemed to be blind to anything but the path in front of him.
Joining Willowvine in pursuing Maynard into the woods, he gave her the hand signal to circle around. Maynard was likely thinking he could hide from them in the trees, but that never worked with elves, and at night they had the advantage of being able to see clearly unlike humans.
He watched her swerve to the right side of the still oblivious Maynard before running to the left. Springheart couldn’t suppress a smile at how easily Maynard had been tricked into running directly to where they wanted him. By the way he was clutching that sack to his chest, it contained the stone. It would be back in their possession in a few minutes. Plenty of time to question Maynard on his motives, and then find a place to tie him up until they were aboard ship.
Maynard glanced behind before entering the trees. It didn’t seem to occur to him that anyone would come from the side. “How has he survived this long, let alone be so successful?” Springheart murmured, testing to see if Maynard was even listening for pursuit. The man didn’t react.
Willowvine was supposed to get ahead of Maynard. They had worked out the best plan they could when they found him asleep in the barn. His snores had drawn them. Maynard really needed training in stealth. The first plan had simply been to take the stone while he was sleeping. Simple, but they both thought unlikely given the way that Maynard was curled around the sack.
This was their plan B. Trap him in the trees, take the stone, and run for a ship.
Within a few meters, Maynard came to a stop against the trunk of an ancient oak, breathing hard and scanning the woods as if suddenly aware that they might have set a trap.
Springheart stayed in the shadows of the neighboring trees, waiting for Willowvine to show herself. A chattering call of a night bird gave him her position and startled Maynard. The sound had come from above. Searching the branches of the oak tree, Springheart saw a flash of elven hair. Was she planning to drop on Maynard like a spider? Too flashy, but there was nothing Springheart could do except watch and be ready to contain Maynard when she had the stone.
Leaning slightly forward, ready to lunge, Springheart watched as Willowvine lowered herself down the rough trunk of the tree. She was silent, Maynard still looking around, less frantic, but not calm enough to think to look up. How was she planning to relieve him of the sack? No longer clutched to his chest, it hung from his hand, but Maynard still held the bag like his life was contained in it.
As Maynard’s breathing calmed his body relaxed. They had fooled him into believing he had escaped. Good.
Willowvine halted her descent, assessing her next steps. She reached behind her to retrieve a small blade tucked into the back of her belt. Springheart knew that she wouldn’t kill Maynard, but he was suddenly unsure how much damage she was willing to inflict. There was no doubt in his mind that she would want revenge for the trouble and delay the human had caused.
In a swift movement, she used the blade to pin Maynard to the tree through his jacket, dropped to the ground and wrested the sack for his grasp. The man had no time to react. She was running to Springheart’s hiding place as Maynard started to reach across and pull the knife free.
Springheart ran forward to stop Maynard as he wiggled at the hilt of the knife. “Keep going. I’ll catch up,” he told Willowvine as they passed. He could get his answers while she made sure the stone was safely on its way to the docks. “Get Zerenia to book our passage.”
He didn’t stop to check on her progress, trusting her to put the stone’s safety ahead of any other consideration. When Springheart reached Maynard, he swung and landed a punch to the man’s temple stunning him. While Maynard’s senses were muddled, Springheart pulled out the knife holding him to the tree and then swept the man’s legs from under him. Springheart rolled Maynard onto his stomach and bound his hands before stepping back out of range of the kick Maynard mustered in defense.
“What in the name of all sense were you thinking?” Springheart demanded.
Maynard struggled to a sitting position. “That girl was taking too many risks. I needed to make sure that the contract got fulfilled.”
A nice lie.
“You don’t know what the contract calls for. Where were you headed with the stone?”
“It’s something elven. I assumed the elves would want it.” Before Springheart could ask his next question, or even form it, Maynard glanced at something over Springheart’s shoulder.
“Why would you think that?” Willowvine asked.
Springheart kept his eyes on Maynard as he said, “Did you not hear me? I said to run.”
She stepped beside him, Maynard’s empty sack hanging from her fingertips. The stone was weighing down her own bag, which was slung across her shoulders in the manner of all couriers. “I did, but it occurred to me that he knows too much, and I had some questions. How do you know the
elves will want it?”
Springheart knew the answer. “You were listening. Somehow you hid in the guild hall.”
Maynard laughed, despite his restraints he seemed to think he was in control, as though he had knowledge they didn’t. “Yes, and I know how the elves feel about orphans. Even if I don’t know where you were to deliver the damn thing, I know the elves would prefer not to be in debt to you.”
Springheart drew another length of rope from his pack. “You may be right about orphans, but no elf would feel indebted to us beyond the fee they paid to the guild.” He tied Maynard’s legs at the knees and ankles, and then retied his arms. “We will be going. When we are safely on our way, we will send a bird to the guild to tell them what happened and where you are.”
Maynard looked around him at the darkness. “You would leave me here to the animals?”
Willowvine chuckled. “Whatever happens to you out here is on your head.”
Maynard blanched.
Springheart felt a trace of pity. The man would be facing punishment from the guild. He didn’t need to spend the night in unfounded terror. “I’m sure it won’t be long before someone finds you, and there are no dangerous animals this close to the village.”
Chapter 41
Springheart feared that Maynard would find a way to get free before they expected. He drove Willowvine at a full run on the journey back. They could rest on the ship to Crous. It was more important to catch the tide than it was to rest. Their time was short because of Maynard’s side trip.
“I don’t like the idea that we left Maynard that way,” Willowvine said.
Springheart knew she didn’t mean she pitied the man, but she wanted a more permanent solution. “We could have knocked him out, but you know that the guild board would hold that against us.” He wasn’t willing to think of a more drastic action, and couldn’t believe she meant they should have killed him.
“There was a jail in the village. We could have convinced them to hold him until the guild paid to release him. Then we would know he was off our trail for long enough for us to finish the job.”
They passed through the city gates before Springheart answered. She was getting better at thinking beyond the moment, but the complexities continued to slip past her. “Do you think I missed the fact they had a jail?”
She sighed. “So, you thought the delay was too much? Waking someone and bribing them?”
He nodded, glad that she knew what he thought, and hoping Willowvine would soon learn to think it through before questioning him. “And we don’t have enough money for a bribe and passage. We may have to work our way back as it is,” he added.
“You need to start telling me things instead of just expecting me to follow your lead.” She dug in her pack as she spoke. “I didn’t give him back his purse. It was mostly our money anyway.”
He laughed, acknowledging her point. “You could have let me know you’d done that.”
“It didn’t seem like a good idea at the time.” She hefted the small purse she pulled out. “There isn’t much, but enough for a small bribe. And he couldn’t have bought his freedom with only his charm.”
As they stepped onto the promenade, Springheart was pleased to see that the docks were busy as usual. The hustle would provide them with cover. “I promise we’ll talk more. Let’s get passage and information before we run into any more problems. Your scree follower maybe looking for us again.”
“I’ll get some supplies.” She handed him the purse after retrieving a few pennies. Willowvine grinned at his frown. “We need food. I’ll just get a bit. I promise not to burn through our fortune — or get caught.”
Springheart waited until she pulled her hood over her fair hair and wrapped a scarf to cover everything other than her eyes. “Be careful.”
There were tables set up for booking passage. It was convenient, but too open for Springheart to feel comfortable. There was no option, though, and there were no scree in sight so it should be safe.
“When is the next ship to Crous?”
The man behind the table glanced up from his list. “How fast can you be ready?”
Not a straight answer, but Springheart had to trust there was a reason. He told himself that the feeling of an arrow pointed at his back was just a touch of paranoia. He resisted the urge to glance around to verify it. “My companion will be here in moments.”
The man checked his list again then waved at a waiting shuttle crew. “The boats leave every quarter hour to board passengers. The next ship sails after this shuttle. An hour before another sailing.”
This time he did look. Willowvine was approaching with a full paper sack. There were no archers aiming for them. There was a pair of scree stepping into the crowds of the market, but their focus was on the approaching shuttles.
“This sailing,” he said. The man named a sum that would leave them with only a few pennies, but Springheart didn’t want to bargain. They needed to be aboard the shuttle before someone recognized Willowvine. He handed the coins over, gave a shrill whistle to alert Willowvine to rush, and headed to the waiting ladder.
Within minutes they were below the level of the dock and the oars began to drive them toward their waiting ship.
* * *
Maynard scanned the docks. It had only taken him a short time to release the bonds the damn elves had confined him in. He was still too far behind them. No matter how fast he ran, only goblins could outrun elves. There was no sight of Willowvine or Springheart, or any elves for that matter. While they were rare, it was unusual not to see a few in a crowd this big.
He knew they had to take the stone somewhere off the mainland. He guessed that it wasn’t back to Lands Home, but it could be any of the other four islands. He had no money for a passage, but perhaps he could offer courier services as trade. Striding toward the tables set out to sell passage, Maynard pushed aside the nagging doubt. He would find the elves and still be the one to complete the contract. Step one was to find out where they took the stone.
It took three tables of rude men for Maynard to get the information he needed. Willowvine and Springheart had boarded a ship for Crous. “When is the next sailing?”
“You can board on any of the shuttles. The next ship goes in a half hour, then in an hour. They wait the tide at Crous.” The man looked at Maynard expectantly.
“Who do I speak to regarding paying in trade?”
A roll of his eyes preceded the man’s answer. “If they are taking trade you need to speak to the captain’s representative.” He pointed to a group of men talking and smoking in the shade of a canopy.
He had time.
As he strode to join the representatives, Maynard smoothed his clothes and pulled himself into a less frantic demeanor. He didn’t have to rush at the first offer. Boarding a ship now, may mean waiting for the tide at Crous. His path took him across the line of passengers unloading from the latest ships from Lands Home. He nodded to a few people he recognized, none who he could ask to lend him money for passage.
At the end of the straggling line of people, he saw someone. Maynard stopped his progress and garnered a few grumbles as people had to swerve around him.
Vitenkar.
A new plan blossomed. He would create an alliance with the scree, at least until they arrived on Crous to dock. He marched over to Vitenkar who had been joined by a second scree. The conversation was not going well, and he was surprised at the level of fear on the face of the second scree.
“Why did you not send a bird to advise me you hadn’t found them?” Vitenkar snapped at the other scree.
Before the answer could come, Maynard said, “You are looking for two elves.”
The two scree looked at him. “Who are you?”
Unconcerned at the sneer in the tone, Maynard said, “I know who they are, what they have, and where they are going.” He wasn’t sure how much the lesser scree knew, and didn’t want to alienate Vitenkar by revealing information that he would prefer to keep close.
&n
bsp; Vitenkar dismissed the other scree. When they were alone, or as alone they could be in the crowd on the dock, he asked, “What do you want for this information?”
Maynard wanted the stone so he could continue to his goal. He knew Vitenkar had his own plans, plans that Maynard would deal with when they intercepted Springheart and Willowvine. “I want to come with you and help. I need you to pay for the passage to… our destination.”
He could see that Vitenkar took his directness as a sign of weakness. Fine. It would put him off his guard.
A cold smile twisted the scree’s mouth. “How do I know your information is good?”
“The fact that I know what they stole from you should be enough,” Maynard said.
“What did they steal?” Vitenkar said the word they as though he didn’t credit the information. As if they hadn’t stolen anything of value. The scree was a fool, and would be easy to deal with as soon as they arrived on Crous.
Realizing the man might not know about Springheart, having only caught Willowvine, he said, “Yes, they. The elven girl had a partner.” He looked around and noticed that the crowd was giving them room. No one wanted to intrude on whatever business a scree was doing. Satisfied that no one was eavesdropping, he added, “A stone. An elven stone of power.”
Vitenkar took a step closer. “You will give me the information for the cost of passage?” It was part question, part threat.
“I want to be there when you take it back. To see them fail,” he said. Then, thinking he needed more, he added, “I can get information that a scree cannot.”
Vitenkar stared at him for a long moment. Maynard wanted to tell him to hurry, that they were falling farther behind with every second of delay, but he kept his mouth shut. Then Vitenkar waved for his servant — at least that’s what Maynard thought the other scree was — and agreed to their partnership. “Do not speak of this to anyone other than me,” he threatened.