by David Hodges
“Stand and deliver!” a voice called. “The next shot will be at your back!”
Hazel and Fergus stopped. Hazel’s heart was pounding. She struggled to control her barb who had spooked at the gunshot.
Fergus did the same on his horse. When he was settled, Fergus looked at Hazel, then down to his musket strapped onto the side of his horse.
Hazel shook her head. Better they lose their money than their lives.
Two of the men rode up to them while one stayed back with the post boy. The boy was crawling on the ground. The two men that approached wore outfits typical of gentlemen, three piece suits and lacy cravats around their necks, though they had not been washed recently.
One of them was wearing a black mask along with a black wig. He pointed a pistol at Fergus. “Off your horses, both of you.”
They obliged.
The man dismounted his horse and walked up to Fergus. “That’s a mint Brown Bess you’ve got there, hand it over... slowly.”
Fergus did as he was told.
“Let’s see what you’ve got in those cases...”
While Fergus opened his luggage, the man walked over to Hazel.
She was shaking now.
“Don’t worry,” he stroked her hair, “we’re not gonna hurt you.” His breath reeked of liquor and fish.
“Don’t touch her!” Fergus shouted. “Take what you want and leave us.”
The man smirked at Fergus before he noticed a commotion down the road. The post boy had managed to get on his feet and was stumbling back toward the toll house.
The man near the post boy noticed and stopped cutting the mail bags off of the boy’s Fell pony. With a pistol, he took aim at the boy’s back and shot him. The boy fell to the ground where he laid motionless.
“You didn’t have to kill the boy, you beef head!” shouted the masked man in black.
“He knew me from the toll gate, he would have told someone.” He finished removing the mail bags from the pony.
“Well now we’ve got witnesses, and you’ve just revealed you were at the toll gate, which, given the fact that these two were traveling away from the gate, means you’ve revealed your identity to them!”
Hazel pleaded, “We won’t say anything. Just take what you want and let us go.”
The man sighed. “Kill the lad, we’ll take the lass.” He tried to hand his pistol up to the man on his horse next to him.
Hazel was shaking uncontrollably.
The other bandit said, “Why me? I’m not the one who made this mess.”
“I’ll do it, you pair of Sallies.” He spat the toll guard through the handkerchief concealing his face. He approached and snatched the pistol out of his accomplice’s hand.
Fergus seized the opportunity to jump off of his horse and began to pull a small knife from his waist just as the toll guard pointed the pistol at him.
A shot echoed through the air.
On the ground, the toll guard was struggling with a large wolfish dog that had its jaws around his forearm.
The horses startled. One of the robbers was thrown off his horse which proceeded to gallop away. The masked man in front of Hazel aimed his pistol toward the dog.
Hazel struggled to maintain control of her barb.
A cloaked man appeared from the brush and with a flick of his wrist he had a saber at the masked man’s throat. “Drop it.” Another dog stood behind him, calmly watching.
The masked man jumped backward and swung his thick cutlass at the cloaked man.
The cloaked man parried the blow effortlessly with his nimble saber and thrust the blade into his chest.
The masked man looked down at the blade and sputtered a stream of blood onto his chin. He collapsed as the cloaked man removed the saber.
The bandit, who had been thrown off of his horse, limped off. On the ground, the toll guard was nursing his arm which was torn open, bits of flesh hung off of it and blood gushed from the wound. His face was colorless. A puddle of blood had formed beside him.
“Go,” growled the cloaked man.
The toll guard struggled to get on his feet, then plodded off.
“I hate highwaymen.” The cloaked man wiped his blade off on the dead robber’s coat and sheathed it.
Hazel finally remembered to breathe. “Thank you, sir...”
Fergus said, “I owe you my life.”
“Thank him.” He nodded in the direction of the wolfish dog as he lit a pipe.
Hazel recognized the dog and the man’s pipe and realized it was the same man who had pointed them in the direction of the convoy earlier. Before she could ask the man to verify her presumption, Fergus spoke.
“I appreciate your help, but I must ask... why did you let that man go? He murdered that post boy.”
“He’ll be dead before he reaches that gate.”
Within a few seconds, the toll guard weaved in the distance, his legs failing him. He slowed, then sat himself down. A moment later, he tipped over and laid motionless.
Hazel had never see a man die before that day, and in less than a minute she had witnessed three killed.
The cloaked rescuer said, “You should get going. You don’t want to be here when someone stumbles across this scene. If you’re hoping to avoid another robbery I’d keep close to that convoy.”
She looked in the direction of the convoy and saw that they were nearly out of sight.
“We will,” said Hazel, certain then that it was the same man.
He walked away and his wolves followed after him.
Hazel ran to Fergus and hugged him as tight as she could.
“This trip has had more than enough peril for my taste,” said Fergus.
“I agree,” replied Hazel. She let him go. “Did you notice? That was the same man from the barracks last night.”
“I did. That’s twice he’s helped to keep this trip from ending short.”
“Could he be following us?”
“I dunno... there aren’t many roads from Leicester, it could be a coincidence.”
“I suppose you’re right.” She looked ahead toward the convoy that had shrunken in the distance. “C’mon, let’s catch up.”
Fergus gathered his musket, then he and Hazel went toward the convoy. They continued trailing them for several hours until they arrived in Derby. Hazel saw Cameron and Daniel checking in to a posting inn and decided it was best to sleep at a different one nearby.
After a quick dinner at the inn’s kitchen, they went to their room.
“I’m exhausted,” yawned Hazel.
“Rightfully so,” said Fergus.
Hazel dressed down to nothing but a thin shift and let her hair down. “You don’t mind, do you?”
“No… that’s... fine with me.” He blushed and averted his gaze. “I’ll sleep on the floor.”
“Don’t be silly. There’s plenty of room for both of us.” She went to him and gave him a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “You were very brave today. I’m glad you were with me.”
“Oh you know. I was just reacting, that’s all.” His face was redder.
Hazel smiled. “Call it what you want.” She climbed into bed and went to sleep.
Hazel was wakened suddenly by Fergus jumping into the bed. “What’s going on?”
He whispered, “Quiet... I was out to use the lou and I saw...”
The door swung open.
“Fergus! I know it’s you.” Daniel pulled the covers off the bed to reveal Hazel in her shift and Fergus in his drawers and an un-tucked shirt.
“It’s not what it looks like. I swear,” said Fergus.
“What are you doing here!” said Daniel.
“Calm down, there’s no need to shout,” said Fergus.
Hazel said, “Daniel, we wanted to come with you and Cameron to search for Alexandra, we’ve been following the convoy.”
“You shouldn’t have come. You have to go back; it’s too dangerous for just the two of you to be traveling.”
“Trust me, we know,�
� said Fergus.
Hazel smacked his shoulder.
“What do you mean? Forget about it. Look, Cameron won’t allow it. You should go back and at least spare yourselves the scolding. I won’t tell him you came if you leave first thing in the morning.”
“Daniel, please, we’ll be careful. We’ve made it this far. Let us stay close to the convoy for just another day or two. If Alexandra isn’t found by then we’ll leave, I promise.”
Daniel sighed and replied, “If Cameron finds you out, I didn’t see you... you understand?”
Hazel nodded.
Daniel walked toward the door then turned back. “And Fergus... put on some breeches.”
9
ALEXANDRA
Alexandra was half asleep when the carriage finally came to a halt. She had been inside for what felt like an eternity, but given the cracks of light had come and gone only once, it could not have been more than a day since she first woke up in the mobile prison.
The door began to open.
This was her chance. She pushed the door back with all the force she could muster and jumped out. She was immediately grabbed by a hooded man, his arms wrapped around hers, pinning them to her sides. Alexandra struggled and screamed, “Let me go! Why are you doing this!”
The man spoke loudly. “Calm down.”
She stopped resisting, more out of fatigue than his order.
“You have nowhere to run, so there’s no point in trying,” he said calmly.
She was expecting to be restrained in some way, but instead the man let go of her. She thought about making another attempt at fleeing but she could barely stand.
There was a cottage nearby surrounded by nothing but trees in every direction as far as she could see in the clear night. She understood why he did not bother taking any precautions.
“Stay here,” the man said. He reached into the carriage and hoisted the body from within over his shoulder then looked at her. “Go to the cottage.”
Alexandra walked slowly toward the small log building. Her legs felt weak and tired from being cramped in the same position for so long. She stopped at the door.
The man pulled out a key and unlocked it. “Inside.”
She could barely make out the interior walls as she walked into the darkness. When she was through the door, the man walked by her and set the body on the floor.
He lit a candle on one of the walls, then carried it over to a few other candles and touched it to each of them, slowly revealing the cabin’s features. The room had simple furnishings. There was a square table with four chairs, a pair of wood benches in front of a fireplace, and a kitchenette composed primarily of a large cutting block and a rack of butchering utensils. A hunting cabin.
The man walked toward the kitchenette and pulled out a pair of metal mugs. He scooped water out of a bucket with one of them, then opened a cabinet and set a plate on the cutting block. From the same cabinet, he pulled out a few strips of dried meat and put them on a plate. He set the meager meal on the table and pulled out a chair. “Eat quickly.”
She walked to the table and considered whether or not it was safe to eat, but decided that if the man wanted to harm her he could have done it directly. She sat in the chair and sniffed the meat. It smelled gamy, but she was too hungry to be choosy. She took a bite and found it to be more appetizing than she had expected.
While she finished off the meat and drained the mug, the man went to the body, pulled out a white syringe that looked like it was made of bone, and filled it with a liquid from a glass vial. He crouched down to the body and injected whatever was in the vial into the man’s arm, then he sat on a bench and waited.
Alexandra was pondering why he would inject a dead man when the body began to stir. He was alive.
Her abductor stood up and pulled something from his cloak.
Alexandra recognized it as the same sort of dart that was in Cameron’s neck the night she was taken.
Her abductor looked to Alexandra and nodded toward a door. “There are cots in that room. Go.”
She obeyed him. In the room, there were four cots prepared with simple linens. As she walked toward one of them she noticed a window. She looked back at the room door, which was still open, letting in the candlelight from the main living area. She was not being watched.
She went to inspect the window and found that it was boarded up from the outside. She sighed in frustration, then wondered if there was something she could use to open the window until she remembered the vast forest outside and was reminded that it would be futile to run, even if she could get outside unnoticed. She walked back to the door and closed it.
The room was completely dark without the candlelight from the living room. She shuffled to one of the cots and sat down on it. It had little padding, but it was far more comfortable than the bench in the carriage. She pulled the covers off and laid down in the cot.
Within minutes, she felt a sudden wave of unnatural fatigue. She tried to resist it, she even tried to sit up, but she struggled just to keep her eyes open. She had one thought before slipping away, the food.
Alexandra was at her dining room table in Leicester. She was at one end of the table, directly across from her at the other end was her father. No one else was in the room. A fire raged behind him in the fireplace. He slammed his fist on the table and the dishes and silverware clattered. “Why the boy!”
Alexandra woke up with a start. She could hear muffled voices from outside of the room. She got up and moved closer to the door.
“Tell me! Why the boy?” demanded one of the voices.
“He may be able to take us to the Sphere,” said another man.
Alexandra wondered what they meant by the Sphere and the boy. Maybe they were referring to Cameron, maybe that was why they took her.
“It’s not too late to fix this...”
“How?”
“There are others, others who would join you... others who would join us.”
Alexandra heard them walk away. A door opened and closed and she could no longer hear them. She returned to her bed and sat, hoping for another clue that could help her understand what was going on.
After a few minutes she heard a door open and close again. Footsteps approached her room and the door swung open. A man entered, he was holding a candle, a pair of buckets, and a tray of dried meat strips. He was shirtless, his shoulder and arm were wrapped with bloody bandages.
Alexandra could not help but notice that he was strikingly handsome. He had piercing eyes, dark hair, and an athletic build.
He placed the tray on the cot nearest to the door and set the buckets down on the floor. He set the candle down on a nightstand, then approached Alexandra with a rag in his hand and pulled a vial out of his pocket.
She shrunk away. “What are you doing?”
He gripped her firmly. “Stay still.” Alexandra recognized the voice as her abductor’s.
He carefully unwrapped the bandage on her shoulder.
Alexandra winced at a twinge of pain as he peeled off the final layer.
He wiped off the blood that had dried around the wound.
Alexandra grimaced, her entire shoulder was tender and ached from the pressure.
He carefully placed a thumb and a finger on either side of the puncture, uncorked the vial, then looked to Alexandra. “This will help it heal, don’t move.” He pulled the partially sealed skin apart.
Alexandra gasped at the jolt of pain.
He quickly poured a few drops of the viscous liquid into the opening.
The throbbing immediately abated, though Alexandra felt faint. She caught her breath as the man eased her onto the bed.
The man stood and said, “I won’t be back until tomorrow night.” He pointed at the tray. “Eat.” He went to the door.
“Wait,” said Alexandra.
The man stopped and listened with his back turned to her.
“The boy I was with, when you took me... is he alright?”
“I don’t kno
w.” He continued toward the door. “I wasn’t there.”
10
CAMERON
A lone farm laborer walked alongside a pair of draft horses. They were pulling a large mechanical contraption that had several funnels attached to drills that hung just above the ground.
“You see the size of that drill? Looks like he’s seeding this entire field himself,” said Daniel.
Cameron reflected on the archaic method of hand cast seeding that Uncle George insisted on at their farm. “That’s the way to do it these days, imagine the profit margins we’d have at home if we had one drill driver for every dozen laborers we employ.”
Daniel replied, “Imagine how many people we’d put on the streets.”
“Valid point. I’m telling you though, we can’t keep it up forever. Soon we’ll be losing money on cultivating.”
Daniel pointed ahead. “Looks like you’re right about those profit margins.”
Up ahead at the edge of the large wheat field was a enormous manor, three levels high with ornate moldings and bountiful windows. The green landscaping around it was in pristine condition with an ornate fountain springing up from a pond.
“That’s a proper palace,” Cameron remarked.
“Makes the Marlows’ place look modest,” said Daniel.
The convoy continued forward to a closed gate. A pair of soldiers opened the unlocked gates, and the convoy proceeded forward.
“I suppose the royal army doesn’t need permission to enter a private property,” said Daniel.
As Cameron walked by the iron gate, he took notice of the design. Dozens, if not hundreds, of animals were portrayed on the fence, subtly embedded within immaculate, sinuous copper branches that stood out against the wrought iron. At the top of the gate were three words, Talamh an Dréimire. “I wonder what it means.”
“Family name, maybe? Or it could be Latin, that’s favored these days,” Daniel replied, “makes them feel intellectual.”
“Must be.”
Cameron looked into the distance and saw that the road disappeared into a lush forest. “Looks like we’ll be taking the scenic route.”