Thinblade

by David A. Wells

“Good night, Isabel. Sleep well,” he whispered.

  She sighed before giving him a look that made his heart race. “I doubt I’ll sleep at all after that.”

  She left him standing outside his room with his heart pounding, his mind filled with possibility, and his soul soaring. It had been a much better night than he would have ever expected.

  Chapter 30

  Alexander slept like a baby. He woke early the next morning to the sound of loud banging on his outer door. He threw on a robe and opened the door to find Erik.

  “Is she here?” It seemed as though Erik couldn’t decide if he was angry or worried.

  Alexander was still a bit groggy. “Who?”

  “Isabel. Is she here? You left the banquet with her last night.” He brushed past Alexander and went to the bedroom.

  Alexander stood at the door and watched him while scratching his head and trying to stifle a yawn. Erik no sooner stepped into Alexander’s bedchamber before he came out looking even more worried. Alexander started to feel a tingle of dread work its way up his spine.

  “Erik, what’s going on?” Alexander asked.

  “Isabel is missing. She never came back to the family living quarters last night. Her room is empty, her bed hasn’t been slept in, and the gown she wore last night isn’t in her armoire. Slyder is gone, too. Isabel doesn’t do this kind of thing. She always makes sure to tell someone where she’s going.” The words tumbled out of Erik’s mouth as if he couldn’t get them out fast enough.

  Alexander was fully awake now. “Let me get dressed and I’ll help you look for her.” Alexander didn’t take long. He strapped on his sword and long knife on his way out of his bedchamber.

  Erik was pacing.

  “I’m sorry, I thought, I mean I was just hoping…” Erik sputtered.

  Alexander held up a hand to stop him.

  “That’s not important, Erik. Let’s go find Isabel.” He stepped into the hall. “The last I saw her she walked to the end of this hall and turned that corner.”

  Erik nodded, “That leads to the family living quarters.”

  “All right, let’s trace her most likely path,” Alexander said.

  Erik was clearly agitated but seemed to be somewhat settled by Alexander’s calm approach to the problem. He led the way down the hall and around the corner. The long hall that followed was interrupted here and there by doors to several other guestrooms.

  Alexander stopped and relaxed his vision in the hopes that his second sight might reveal something, but it didn’t. “Where do these doors lead?”

  “Most are guestrooms, one is a cleaning closet, and that one at the end leads to a servants’ access passage,” Erik answered.

  “Is anyone staying in any of these rooms?”

  Erik thought for a moment before shaking his head. “The rest of your companions are on the other side of your room. These are all empty.”

  “Good.”

  Alexander marched to the first door and threw it open. It was much smaller than his suite and only offered one room rather than a sitting room and a bedchamber. The curtains were drawn back and tied open, the floors were clean, the fireplace was cold, and the linens were neatly folded on the foot of the bed. Alexander closed the door and went to the next while Erik opened the door across the hall.

  They worked their way down the hall going door to door. Each room was clean, cold, and ready to be made up for the next guest.

  The service corridor at the end of the hall opened onto the landing of a long staircase that led down several flights, broken by landings every twelve or fifteen steps. It was dimly lit with low-burning oil lamps at each landing, and it looked clean and well kept.

  “Where does this lead?” Alexander asked.

  “Down to the kitchen, prep rooms, and service quarters,” Erik answered, looking past Alexander down the stairs.

  Alexander was about to close the door when something caught his eye. He froze as he tried to peer through the gloomy light. When he bolted down the stairs, Erik followed right on his heels and nearly knocked him down the final flight of stairs when Alexander came to an abrupt halt on the second landing.

  There, on the next step down, was Isabel’s white fur shawl. He picked it up carefully, almost tenderly. When he turned it over and saw the lurid splotch of bright red blood, his legs nearly buckled. He steadied himself against the wall and handed Erik the shawl while fighting to keep the icy dread of the unthinkable from flooding into his mind and rendering him helpless.

  He heard a low groan escape from Erik before he bounded down the remaining flight of stairs and raced down the hall. He stopped where the hall came to a tee and frantically looked back and forth down the hall for any further sign of Isabel. To his right, the corridor led to an outside exit. To his left, it led deeper into the palace. When he saw the puddle of red coming out from under the door, he felt the unthinkable push against his defenses. He dashed for the door and yanked it open.

  There in the middle of the little storeroom lay a young man in a pool of cold and sticky blood. He had a wound in his gut from a single thrust of a blade that had apparently run him completely through. Next to the man, Alexander saw a footprint in the blood. He looked down the hall in the dim light and found what he expected. There was a blood trail leading from the outside door at the end of the corridor and a boot print in increasingly faded blood leading back to the door. When he opened the door to the service courtyard on the side of the palace, he saw where the young man had been killed. Blood mixed with dirt to form an ugly brown mud. Then he saw one of Isabel’s shoes. As he picked it up, he swallowed hard.

  “Take me to the nearest Ranger barracks,” he commanded Erik, who nodded woodenly, his face ashen white.

  Erik led him at a dead run around the courtyard and into a nondescript entrance to the low barracks room. The light of day was just overcoming the darkness and the Rangers were still sleeping. Alexander came to a halt just inside the door. There were rows of ten bunks on each side of the long room, each with a locker at the foot, and each with a man snoring under the covers.

  “Everybody up!” Alexander boomed. A few came out of their bunks quickly, while a few rolled over and pulled their pillows over their heads. “Everybody up, now!” he bellowed. “I am Lord Alexander and I expect every one of you dressed and ready to ride in five minutes. I will wait outside. Do not make me wait long.”

  Alexander felt a rising sense of sick panic in his belly and struggled to transform it into anger. He stalked from the barracks, allowing his anger to fester and boil.

  “Erik, go tell your parents what’s happened. Get Anatoly and Mason as well. I’m going to ride with the Rangers as soon as they’re ready.”

  Erik nodded and dashed off.

  Only a minute or two passed before the platoon leader emerged fully dressed. He was older than Alexander by several years and looked experienced by his bearing. His eyes were a deep brown and his hair was jet black and cropped short. He stood about Alexander’s height and was only slightly heavier. Alexander could see the anger under his schooled demeanor. He strode up to Alexander, came smartly to attention and snapped a salute against his chest.

  “Lord Alexander, I am Lieutenant Cross, leader of this platoon. If I may ask, what are our orders this fine morning?”

  Alexander regarded the lieutenant calmly, deliberately nurturing his anger. “I will brief all of you at once, Lieutenant.”

  The Ranger regarded him somewhat more coolly and nodded once, “As you wish, My Lord.”

  Others were beginning to emerge from the barracks, first in a trickle, then in a steady stream until they all stood in formation behind their lieutenant.

  “All present and accounted for, My Lord.” Cross had reined in his anger and replaced it with the studied, detached professionalism of a soldier.

  Alexander took a deep breath and held up Isabel’s shoe. “Lady Isabel has been abducted.” The lieutenant stiffened and his anger came back in a flash, only more fiercely. “I was the
last to see her after the banquet last night. She was brought down the service passage from the guest quarters and out the door into the service courtyard around the corner there.” Alexander pointed in the direction he and Erik had come from. “Erik and I also found a dead man in a small supply room just inside the outer door.”

  The entire platoon was standing at attention and looked ready for blood. Isabel was one of their own. Alexander could see the fierce loyalty they had for her and for her family.

  “Lieutenant, you and your two best trackers will come with me while the rest of your men get horses for all of us and bring them around to the side courtyard.” Alexander issued his commands with deliberate calm that masked his boiling rage, then turned and strode off toward the scene of the crime.

  Lieutenant Cross started barking orders and was quickly following a step behind and to the right of Alexander with another two men in tow.

  Alexander stopped short of the area in front of the door. “This is where they came out. I found her shoe right over there. I believe the young man was killed right there.” Alexander pointed to the blood in the dirt. “Lieutenant, have your trackers examine the area and tell me what else they see.”

  The lieutenant nodded to the two men and they moved into the area very carefully, slowly, and deliberately so as not to disturb any tracks that might be there. One went inside while the other looked carefully at the ground in the surrounding area. Only a minute later, the two returned to the lieutenant and Alexander with their report.

  “Lord Alexander, you say you and Erik came out of this door and found Isabel’s shoe. Are these your tracks here?” The Ranger tracker pointed to the deep boot prints from Alexander and Erik.

  Alexander nodded.

  They looked at each other before one spoke. “There were two men here. One struggled briefly with the dead man in the storage room, killed him there where you thought, and then dragged him inside to conceal his body. Isabel was unconscious, loaded into a wagon or cart and taken in that direction. Presuming they remained in the cart and traveled all night, they are likely several miles ahead of us.” He looked up at the sky. “Looks like a clear day ahead, so we should be able to track them well enough.” The other nodded to confirm the report.

  Moments later a herd of horses came around the corner bearing a platoon of angry Rangers bristling with spears, swords, and bows. Four men in the lead had the reins of an extra horse each. Alexander recognized his fine white mare with the brown splotch on its forehead and was pleased to see his bow and quiver were strapped to his saddle.

  All four mounted up. Alexander raised his voice over the sound of anxious horses. “The trackers will take the lead. Do not get ahead of them and destroy the trail.”

  Everyone in the platoon nodded, some even looked a bit offended at the rather obvious command. Alexander didn’t care.

  They rode more slowly than Alexander wanted to. He was seething with anger and fighting to keep the unthinkable from overtaking his reason. The trackers were careful and thorough. On some stretches of road they were able to move quickly but on others they slowed to a crawl. Not an hour from the edge of town, they came to an intersection where three roads came together to form one larger road leading into the heart of Glen Morillian. The trackers stopped and dismounted. They spent several minutes going over the ground, even getting down on all fours and combing slowly through the dry dirt before agreeing on the road to take.

  Half an hour later they came to a wide, shallow place in a small stream that served as a ford for road traffic. There was a small copse of trees hugging the opposite bank. The platoon let their horses drink from the crystal-clear water while the trackers dismounted on the far side. This time they didn’t need to crawl but simply walked, heads down, right off the side of the road before stopping abruptly and pointing toward the stand of hardwoods that grew up along that section of the mountain stream.

  Lieutenant Cross issued orders to his men with hand signals that they clearly understood perfectly. The platoon broke into four smaller units and spread out to approach the grove from several angles at once. When they entered the trees, they converged on a finely made four-wheeled cart. With practiced precision, the Rangers surrounded and enclosed the enemy position, half approaching with spears at the ready while the other half remained at range with arrows nocked.

  The lead force called out to the lieutenant and Alexander, “It’s empty. Looks like it’s been abandoned.”

  Alexander dismounted, handing the reins of his horse to the nearest Ranger, and vaulted into the back of the cart. He found a blanket and some straw in the bed. His heart skipped a beat when he found a strip of cloth from Isabel’s dress. She was leaving breadcrumbs. At the very least, she was alive when the cart was abandoned.

  “Lieutenant, she was here. Search the area.” He held up the little strip of cloth from her dress. With swift precision, the Rangers fanned out and did a quick but thorough search of the surrounding woods.

  Within minutes, a Ranger called out from the bank of the stream, “Here, they brought her here.”

  Alexander, the lieutenant, and several others made their way to the bank.

  The Ranger held up another little strip of cloth. “Looks like two men brought her here,” he pointed to some tracks in the damp dirt. “They struggled and she went down here,” he pointed out the place where Isabel had hit the ground. “Then they loaded her into a boat and cast off,” he pointed to the overturned stones in the shallows along the bank and the indentation left in the soggy ground where the boat had been moored.

  “This was planned,” Alexander muttered to himself.

  Lieutenant Cross agreed, “Whoever did this thought it through pretty carefully.”

  “Where does this stream lead?” Alexander asked.

  The lieutenant looked in the direction the stream was flowing and frowned for a moment before he answered, “I believe it leads into the estates of Duke Covington.”

  Alexander tried to reason it out. Who would want to take Isabel and why? The only name that came to mind was Truss, but her abductors had clearly taken her downstream toward Covington’s lands. It didn’t make sense. When Alexander had looked at the nobles with his second sight, Covington was the most trustworthy.

  “Lieutenant, search the area again. Make sure we haven’t missed anything.”

  Cross issued orders to his men without hesitation. He was thorough, professional, and clearly had the respect and loyalty of his men. Alexander decided he liked him.

  Minutes later they reported back. They’d found the horse that had drawn the cart wandering in the fields nearby and there were no other tracks. Isabel had been taken downstream in a small boat.

  “Lieutenant, send a rider back to the palace to report to Warden Alaric, then split your force in half. I’ll take one group and we’ll work our way down this side of the stream while you work down the other side.”

  Again the lieutenant nodded to Alexander and issued his orders with precision and unmistakable command authority. His men obeyed without question.

  Moving down the bank of the stream was slow going. The ground was uneven and muddy in many places and Alexander wanted to be sure that they didn’t miss anything. He let the tracker set the pace and relied on his expertise to find where the abductors had come ashore. Close to noon, they came to a spot where the stream flowed into a wooded area, which slowed their progress even further. The trees were thick along the bank and the undergrowth hampered the horses. Alexander was becoming worried that they would lose the trail, when they came to a clearing where a horse trail crossed the stream along a little wooden bridge constructed of two logs lined on top with rough-cut boards.

  Caught under the bridge was a simple little boat. It looked like the people who’d abducted Isabel had let the boat loose in the stream but neglected to ensure that it made it under the low bridge. The Ranger trackers made a quick search of the area. They quickly called Alexander and Lieutenant Cross over to a burned-out campfire.


  “There was a single man waiting here with a team of four horses. The boat was brought ashore there,” the tracker pointed to a spot on the bank of the little mountain stream. “Two sets of tracks lead here. One set is much deeper than the other so we believe one of the men was carrying Lady Isabel. He put her down here,” he indicated an area of the grass that was crushed. “If you look closely you can see the print of a woman’s bare foot.” He squatted down with Alexander and the lieutenant and pointed out the faint impression Isabel had made on a soft place in the ground.

  “From here she was walked by two men, one on each side, to here, where she mounted a horse. Looks like all four left that way along the trail,” the tracker pointed into the trees.

  “Good work. Take the lead and stay sharp,” Alexander commanded as he returned to his horse.

  They moved on into the woods along the narrow horse path. The trail wound around trees and was narrow enough that they rode single file. Not an hour later they emerged from the woods onto a well-traveled road. It was wide, travel-worn, and formed of hard packed dirt. The trackers spent nearly half an hour searching the road for any indication of which direction Isabel and her abductors had gone but found nothing among all the other horse and wagon tracks. As they searched, Alexander felt cold dread settling into the pit of his stomach. After the first few minutes, he knew they wouldn’t find anything but he let them search without interruption in the hope that he was wrong.

  “Lieutenant, where does this road lead?” he asked.

  “That way takes us back to the road we were on when we stopped at the stream and then on to an intersection with another major road. That way takes us into Covington’s estate,” Lieutenant Cross said.

  When Alexander could hold still no longer, he stopped the trackers and asked for their report. It was clear that they were miserable at having to tell him they’d lost the trail. Alexander fought quietly to maintain his hold on sanity and thought for a moment that he would fail right there in the middle of the road. The unthinkable closed in on him. He felt helpless and angry all at once. When he saw the telltale dust column of approaching riders, he calmed his emotions and reminded himself to be driven by emotion but ruled by reason. He told himself he would do all it took to find Isabel but that he must use reason and clear thought to accomplish his goals.