Urake kept a stiletto hidden in behind a rope that hung by the door. It was but the work of a moment to hide it in his clothing. The charade was going to end soon but first he wanted a little more information. His cursory glance around the room had yielded a few interesting pieces of information. For one the hunting bow that resided in the corner was missing. Another thing was that the cupboard with the food was open and empty. The kitchen knife from the counter was also missing. The bundle of twine was considerably smaller and there was coarse flour grinds around the pot of flour where the coin was kept.
“Why do you want the worthless boy?”
“The chancellor wants him so he must not be so worthless. Not that it is any business of yours.” This was all Urake needed to know. Vorat was standing with his back to Urake and the captain was facing him from across the table. A quick stab to the back of Vorat’s neck just below the skull paralyzed him and ensured imminent death. The captain had hardly registered that Vorat had begun collapsing with a confused expression on his face before the stiletto was flying through the air. He wore a distinctly surprised expression as the blade buried itself in the soft spot at the base of his neck above his rib cage.
Urake stepped over Vorat’s motionless body and around the table. The captain had already pulled out the blade and was gurgling and choking in an attempt to call for help.
“You shouldn’t have pulled the knife out. You see, you opened a hole in the major veins by your heart. You will be dead in a couple minutes at the most. Mind you, not that leaving it in would have extended your life much. I should also inform you while you still live that the swill you so ungraciously turned down earlier though not my best work is still better than the garbage you pour down your throat in the capital. It is a pity you didn’t have a chance to try it. I hope you don’t mind too much but I have to deal with your other two men now.”
Urake left the captain in a pool of his own blood and went through the partition into the bedroom. Under his bed he pushed out a knot hole and pulled up on a loose plank in the floor. Underneath was a compartment. Urake pulled a war bow out and tested the spring in the weapon. Next was a carefully wrapped coil of bowstring. It was the work of a moment before the bow was strung. Next came a quiver full of iron tipped arrows with back fletching. A heavy bundle was the last thing to be extracted from the hiding place. Leaving the bundle Urake moved past the dead soldiers to the back door.
Slipping out the door Urake peaked around the corner. The carriage was hidden behind the trees well enough but anyone aware of their surroundings would have seen it through the foliage. The two soldiers lying in wait were another problem though. They were hiding well enough that he couldn’t be sure of a shot. They had a view of the house and would have well known something was up if they had seen him without his captors.
Urake pondered trying to sneak out the back into the trees and making a circuit around but discarded that as being too risky. Realizing that the men were looking for only one thing gave him an idea.
“SKELN, STAY AWAY, THEY WILL KILL YOU!” Dashing back out through the door Urake was rewarded by the sight of the two soldiers emerging from the trees with crossbows in hand and intent on the trees behind the house. The first soldier fell with an arrow buried almost to the fletching in his chest. The other soldier had been ahead and turned at the startled cry of his compatriot. He never saw the arrow that killed him. Urake slung the bow over his shoulder and stepped around the corner.
Both the soldiers were dead by the time he got to them. The carriage was what he expected. A horse drawn prison cell. The horses would have drawn too much attention to him even if he needed a ride. The dead bodies were still a problem though. After driving the carriage up next to the house he cut the horses free and gave them each a smack in the rump. All four horses disappeared up the valley quick enough. If anyone found them, they didn’t have a piece of identifying tack on them that might link them to the soldiers.
The soldiers posed a more difficult problem. Returning to the house Urake picked up the bundle he had removed from hiding earlier and untied the strings that held it together. Inside was a brace of fighting daggers and another couple of throwing knives. A fine sword was revealed a plain scabbard. The runes imprinted in the pommel spoke of the dwarven origins of the blade. The edge was as sharp as the day it had been forged and nary a speck of rust blemished the bright steel. The cloth that wrapped the whole was a fine cloak black on one side and gray on the other side. The cloak he wrapped the sword in and the knives he hid under his cloak. The stiletto was secured in his boot with a throwing knife.
Walking back outside he carried the bundle to the trees and returned to the house. He took a few minutes to drag the dead soldiers that were outside into the house. Stripping them of the telltale chain mail he appropriated a set of clothes that were close to his own size. The rich cloak had an insignia that he had no wish to be associated with embroidered on the back so he left it. The crown and the oak of King Illiad was feared and hated much in equal parts throughout the lands. Fear and hatred could both be turned into violence against a lone representative of the king if he were to find himself in the wrong place and company. The ring mail was too heavy for his use and so it was buried in a shallow grave with two of the men and their weapons a short distance behind the house. The tack with emblems on them were also buried. The carriage had the iron rimmed wheels removed and carried inside.
The captain was close to Urake’s size so he was placed on his bed. One of the other men were short enough to be taken for the rather tall Skeln so he was positioned on the floor between the beds after Urake removed the arrow. Taking the jug of alcohol he sloshed it liberally around the house. Pausing at the door he struck sparks from a piece of flint and watched for a moment as the alcohol caught and the room went up in flames. The carriage would catch soon enough and by the time anyone arrived most everything would be consumed.
The villagers would think the fire an accident and without evidence to the contrary would believe the two skeletons inside to belong to Urake and Skeln. With luck they would think the iron banding to be from a couple kegs consumed in the inferno. The only loose end would be the peddler who had witnessed Urake and the soldiers together. Beyond that there was little to link them beyond a few questions asked in town by the soldiers. Urake surmised that few people beyond the peddler would put the events together. The peddler in the wake of his life being threatened was not likely to come forward with knowledge of the incident.
Urake picked up the bundle and added his bow and quiver to it. Skeln had removed everything of value from the house so Urake would have to catch up soon. He took one last look at the house in flames. As far as he was concerned, Urake and Skeln were dead. If he caught up with Skeln they would have to craft new identities.
Turning Urake looked for signs of Skeln’s trail. It was beyond the stream before he found even a trace. It had signs of being a hasty trip through the woods. The toe prints were deeper than usual so Urake guessed that Skeln had been trying to keep low and was leaning forward as he ran. Unfortunately Skeln had several hours head start by now so Urake had to deal with older traces than before.
Rising to the challenge Urake made good time until he reached the woods. Here the tracks disappeared into the pine needle covered floor. It was only by the occasional disturbed patches of needles where Skeln had twisted to look for pursuers that Urake was able to continue. He feared the worst for several minutes when even these signs disappeared. After going back to the last signs he circled until he found another track. Skeln had made an abrupt shift in direction and was now moving straight up the hill. After several more false starts he found the trail again high up on the side of the valley. The trail was still hard to follow but it was there to the trained eye.
Urake had followed the faint trail miles down the valley before it disappeared again. After several false starts he found it in a patch of sand at the top of the ridge. Darkness and worry were setting in as he followed Skeln down into
the forest on the other side of the ridge. It was no use following a trail as well hidden as Skeln’s in the dark.
Urake cursed himself for not having trained a dog in tracking these many years he had wasted. Now he had a chance of losing the boy he had called his son. As he made a makeshift camp he recalled the past. All those many years ago and the day he had arrived in the obscure village in the Garoche foothills. Old memories emerged and Urake looked at them from a new point of view.
Chapter Five
Encer stood at the door moodily watching the clouds pour into the valley. Rimmed in on three sides by mountains, Dragon’s Hamlet was spared the harshest of storms but this one looked like it was not going to be thwarted by simple geography. Lightning peeled ominously in the distance. A cold wind was already drifting down from the Vaulwar icy heights. By the feel of it snow would soon carpet the village. This year’s crops had been plentiful and there was enough preserved game to feed the village throughout the winter so no one was worried.
It wasn’t the imminent storm that was bothering Encer. The village had thrived since Inadar had been deposited in their midst. The dragons were only occasionally seen and no one was terrorized. What bothered him was that in the last five years no one had been able to leave the valley and no one had entered. The reason being the fact that dragons seemed to appear anytime anyone attempted to leave. In time everyone had come to an understanding but the isolation had worried many of the villagers.
The road had melted back into the verdant meadows from disuse and only the fresh dragon signs could be seen in the valley mouth. No one ever saw the dragons in the act but anytime someone ventured out that far they saw huge prints and scarred and scorched earth across the whole valley entrance. It was clear what the dragon's desires were.
“Close that door before you let in half the winter.” Mytera scolded Encer. He smiled and closed the door. His arrangements with Mytera were more of convenience than any other reason. She was a widow caring for a child and he was a bachelor who had almost died from food poisoning three winters back. He performed the tasks a husband would have like tending land, hunting game and firewood gathering. She cleaned, cooked and sewed. They shared the tasks of caring for Inadar.
Encer had acquired an education before being pressed into the army so he had become the school teacher. During the winters when there was little to be done so many of the villagers crowded into his house and practiced their letters. Most of the villagers had never seen a book let alone thought they might one day learn to read. Now most of them had a firm grip on reading and writing. Maths were also worked at but usually with less enthusiasm than the mysterious art or reading. Few of the villagers saw the need to understand numbers for their day to day lives.
Today after the snow fell would probably mark the beginning of another such winter. Selene had already been over that last day or two asking for help with a few of the words in the book Encer had lent her. Recalling the subject of books caused him to scowl anew. He was running out of new books. The crates he had carried with him to the settlement had been worth a small fortune. They had been the sum of his inheritance when his father had died while he had been at war.
Returning home after the dragon campaigns were over Encer had been shocked to find his father’s lands being managed by a land master for the King. Despite his legal inheritance he had been turned out of his father’s house at sword point after being told that the lands had gone to the crown at the old man’s death. One of the peasants had recognized him walking back to town. The man had had worked in the house for several years and had taken home several crate of books the land master had tossed out on his arrival. Now they were all that Encer had left of his childhood home.
Encer couldn’t afford new books even if he could manage to get out of the valley with his skin intact. Not only for the books but for any news of the world outside. For all he knew the rest of the continent could have fallen into the Silent Seas. The isolation was particularly frustrating to him.
Inadar’s brisk discussion on the properties of the porridge that she had been served woke Encer from his contemplation. With a smile he had to admit that the girl was making a good case for her point. She contended that the mixture of ground corn was not fit for human consumption. Its color was a sickening yellow, the texture was nauseous and above all it tasted terrible.
Mytera countered with the fact that a little sweetener and milk did wonders for the flavor and that despite Inadar’s observations and deep seated opinion it was edible because she said it was so. Inadar had not yet found an argument for such sound logic. Encer was sure that she would soon enough. The girl was bright as a polished brass button. Mytera caught him smiling and scowled at him. Hardly able to hide his smirk he sat down and spooned some of the aforementioned porridge into his bowl. Inadar was still trying to avoid ingesting the porridge but when it came to a battle of wills Encer would have always put money on Mytera’s. He was sure that she could browbeat a dragon if it offended her enough. That could also have been the reason why no one in Dragon’s Hamlet remarked on her living arrangements. One didn’t risk her undying ire over such a trivial issue.
Breakfast was over soon and Inadar had been coaxed into eating a few spoonfuls of the porridge. Encer could have sworn that if she ate less she would blow away in a stiff breeze. Despite her meager appetite she was in the midst of a growth spurt that kept Mytera busy mending and lengthening the child’s wardrobe. After finishing to the exact spoonful required of her Inadar asked to be excused and slipped outside to play with her friends.
Mytera cleaned up the table and chatted about the weather as Encer pulled out the block of wood he was working on. The table was soon strewn with the carving tools and Encer was engaged in carving out a new bowl. He only committed a part of his attention to the conversation and thus only nodded his head and agreed every now and then. Mytera knew his ways but still continued talking. He suspected that she was merely thinking aloud and wouldn’t have spoken if she knew he was paying attention.
“That addle brained girl is outside without her coat. The poor thing will catch her death.”
“What?” Encer noticed that Mytera had sat down near the fire and picked up her sewing. Beside her he saw Inadar’s coat hanging on a peg as his brain translated what he hadn’t been paying attention to.
“She went out in this cold without her coat.” Mytera sighed in exasperation and stood up.
“Don’t worry. I will take it to her.” Encer left his carving and put his own coat on. His fur lined boots were next. Suitably armored for the cold he accepted the coat and hat that Mytera gave him and slipped out. Inadar was probably across the village with Selene’s children. Trudging through the chilled air he made for her expected location. A drifting white flake caught his attention. Looking up he saw a smattering of the snowflakes falling silently to earth confirming his earlier prediction.
Inadar was indeed coatless and frolicking joyously with the other children. She wasn’t the least bit cold. Encer held her hands to see for himself and found hers to be warmer than his. Oh to be a ten year old child again with boundless energy and health. Encer left Inadar properly appareled and began the return trip. He took his time however the village wasn’t large enough to warrant a long trip but if one walked slow enough it could last a few minutes.
With the sleeve cuffs folded down over his hands and the collar folded up Encer didn’t feel the new bite in the air. The snow was coming down harder now covering everything under a soft white blanket. In a few days it might be melted off but chances were it would be the base for a couple feet of snow throughout the winter. With the store house full enough to last for two winters no one was worried. The children would all be making snow men and building forts and reenacting the dragon wars.
For the adults in the village other hobbies filled their time. The women would be washing, dressing and weaving the wool shorn from the sheep last spring. Some of the men maintained the trapping lines that provided fresh meat. Others
like Encer engaged in hobbies such as wood carving or fletching arrows. Everyone found an activity that kept them from insanity.
The clippity clop of horse hooves broke into Encer’s mind. He first remarked to himself that the snow would soon be deep enough to render them silent. The next thing he realized was that there were two horses in the village. One a gelding and the other an old mare of dubious origins. The gelding was his and the mare never walked as fast as the approaching horses. The second realization of plural horses startled him into attention. The silhouette of a dozen horsemen could be seen through the falling snow. Encer was so stunned that the horse men were upon him by the time he reacted enough to get out of the way.
“You there! What village is this? I have no knowledge of a village this far into the Vaulwar.” The lead horsemen addressed Encer.
“This is Dragon’s Hamlet. We haven’t heard from the outside in more than five years.” It was then that Encer was able to make out the coat of arms that the man wore. An oak tree over a signet ring. These men were not the King’s men or acting on his orders. They were loyal to the Chancellor. Encer knew that most of the business conducted in the King’s name was by the Chancellor’s hand. The man must have grown more powerful than before because now he fielded troops in his own name.
“We are searching for a dangerous individual. Have you seen any strangers recently?” The storm was now blocking out most of the light giving the morning the feel of evening. In spite of this light Encer recognized the man he was speaking with. When Encer had known him he was a captain in the dragon campaigns known as Verkal. He had obviously been promoted. Encer had only been a lowly soldier so Verkal hadn’t taken any notice of him let alone enough to recognize him now.
Chronicles of Den'dra: A Land Torn: Ancient Powers Awaken Page 5