by Ty Johnston
The tracing hex was still on Kron Darkbow and his companions, and Karitha swore she could tell where they were located. What confused Belgad was the three seemed to be moving slightly northeast through the woods. They had turned off the most direct route to Pinsonfork. Belgad had expected them to leave the road after Holderby’s Landing, but it confounded him why they had turned northeast. Once he thought about it, Belgad realized he did not know his enemies’ destination, or if they even had one. Perhaps they were only running, meandering around in hopes of escape? Darkbow seemed more systematic than that. Besides, they could have been as safe in the city as they were on the highway if all they had wanted to do was hide. But where could they be going? The mountains lay a good ways to the east, and beyond that was East Ursia; to the north was Caballerus, then the Prisonlands, but those places wouldn’t provide any more protection than what they would have known in Bond.
Belgad did not have any answers, but he knew he and his people would continue to Pinsonfork unless the general demon was proven correct and Randall were dead by sunrise. If that should happen, Darkbow and Adara also would be dead and everyone could return home with some grisly trophies. If Kron and his folks eluded the demons, then Belgad would be waiting for them in Pinsonfork. If Kron and the others did not go through Pinsonfork, Belgad would follow. Sooner or later Darkbow would slip up or slow down and Belgad would have him.
It was a waiting game, and Belgad hated waiting.
***
Adara and Randall’s first instinct was to flee. Their whereabouts were known by the war demons and possibly Belgad.
“If we ride instead of think, we will soon be dead,” Kron said kicking dirt onto their camp fire, putting them in darkness.
“If we sit here waiting we will soon be dead,” Adara spat.
“Think!” Kron said. “They knew where we were. How?”
Neither Adara or Randall could come up with an answer.
“If they knew where we were, then they likely will know wherever we go,” Kron said. “There is no reason to run. They have us, so it’s better to stand and fight or try and find out how they can follow our movements. If we can figure that out, we might be able to do something about it. Then we can ride.”
They were all quiet in the darkness of the forest, each thinking in their own silence.
After a minute, Adara asked, “Randall, did you cast your protective spells today?”
“Yes, I placed a shielding web over us,” the healer said. “It should be strong enough to block all but the most powerful of observation magics.”
“Would the demons be able to bypass your spell?” Kron asked.
“Not likely, though my father might be able to,” Randall said, “but he would have to have known our location at a particular point before he could track us further.”
“The demons or Belgad could have told him we were in Holderby’s Landing,” Adara said.
“There’s more to it than that,” Randall explained. “He would have to have looked in upon us with sorcery, to see us in a particular spot. I don’t think that could have happened.”
“Is there anyone else that powerful?” Kron asked.
“Markwood,” Randall said. “Maybe one or two others at the university. Other than that, I wouldn’t have a clue. I’m sure somewhere there are a handful of other mages with the ability to see through a protective web, but they would be few and far between.”
“Are there any other possibilities?” Kron asked. “Magic weapons? Creatures? Maybe something like your ring?”
“Nothing I’ve heard of,” Randall responded.
“This is getting us nowhere,” Adara said, frustrated in the dark. “They traced us here, and they could be back any minute. We have to leave!”
“What did you say?” Randall asked.
“I said they tracked us here, and —”
“No, you said they traced us here,” Randall said with hope in his voice. “That’s it! It’s a tracing hex!”
“A what?” Kron and Adara said at the same time.
“A tracing hex,” Randall said. “Remember when Karitha cast some kind of spell at us, but it didn’t seem to do anything.”
“I remember,” Adara said.
“That could have been a tracing hex,” Randall said. “You have to be close to whomever you’re casting it upon.”
“That would explain why she was foolish enough to be so near us,” Kron said.
“It would also explain why her attack didn’t harm us,” Randall went on.
“How does this hex work?” Adara said.
“It places an invisible mark upon a person. A mage can track them that way, and a protective web won’t help because the web spell covers an area, not an individual,” Randall said.
“What can we do?” Kron asked.
“It’s simple,” Randall said. “All I have to do is cast some detecting magic on us, find out who or what has the mark, then I erase it.”
“How long will this take?” Kron asked.
“Just a few minutes,” Randall said.
“Get to it.”
***
“We’ve lost them.”
Those were not words Belgad wanted to hear from Karitha Jarnac, and his disappointment was apparent as he twisted his head to glare at the woman.
“They’ve discovered the hex and erased it,” the wizard said. “It was bound to happen sooner or later.”
The Dartague jumped to his feet and roared to the night’s sky.
Karitha retreated, fearing Belgad’s reaction. The others in the camp looked up from whatever they were doing to stare at Belgad, with the exception of Fortisquo. The sword master simply continued thumbing through his book, the title and author’s name on the leather cover revealing it as a treatise on fencing maneuvers written by Karitha’s late brother.
“We are done for,” Belgad said. “Once the demons discover this, they will butcher us.”
“Posh,” Fortisquo said not looking up.
Belgad spun on the sword fighter, his eyes boring into the man’s head.
Fortisquo snapped his book closed, dropped it in his lap and placed his crossed feet on a tree stump in front of his chair. He looked up at the barbarian lord. “We can still be their agents in hunting Adara, Darkbow and the healer,” he said casually, almost with disinterest. “The demons don’t like doing Verkain’s bidding, so the less they are involved, the better for them. We, however, can continue the search without the demons having to be involved, and we might get to our quarry without their assistance.”
Belgad’s eyes remained enlarged while he sucked in deep breaths and took in the sword fighter’s words. For a second he had been tempted to bounce across the grassy distance between himself and Fortisquo, then crush the man’s head with his bare hands, but Fortisquo’s words made some sense. It was true the demons did not enjoy serving others despite their payment of human souls; Verkain did not appear to be directly involved with the hunt for his son, leaving the work to the demons and to Belgad, so it was possible the demons would allow them to live on the pretext the demons were continuing the hunt while actually Belgad and his people would be doing most of the work.
“You play a game with our lives,” the Dartague said.
“We have no other choice at this point,” Fortisquo said, “unless, of course, Karitha here can lace another hex on our foes.” He turned his head to look at the wizard.
Karitha shook her head.
Fortisquo looked back at Belgad. “There you have it,” he said. “We have little choice. When the chief demon arrives, he will likely be angry because now they can’t track Randall either. Placate him. Tell him we will continue the search and Karitha will place another hex on them. The demons will agree to it. What choice do they have? They’ve a master to serve.”
Belgad spun away from the camp and stared into the dark forest. Perhaps Fortisquo was right. The demons would not be pleased, but they might take the deal. Belgad hoped they would take the deal. He did not
find appealing the notion of spending eternity in hell.
***
After several minutes of casting, Randall found he had been correct about a tracing hex. Unfortunately, Karitha’s spell had been more complex than Randall had anticipated; it had been a multiple tracing spell, placing a hex on each of them. Still, after a few minutes of working to magically erase the hexes, they were done away with.
“We are hidden once more,” Randall said.
“Mount up,” Kron said, and soon they were making their way through the woods once more.
The blackness of night slowed their travel further, but that did not matter. Kron wanted distance between them and their last camp site. Belgad or the demons were likely to investigate by morning.
After a silent hour of waltzing their riding beasts through the dark, Adara asked, “Are we going to stop for the night?”
“In a few more hours,” Kron said.
“Where are we going?” Adara asked.
“East,” Kron said.
“I know we’re going east,” the woman said. “I would like to know the location to which we are going.”
“Kobalos,” Kron said.
Adara had to grit her teeth to keep from saying something sharp. She had no fondness for the opposite sex, other than their usefulness in combat training and enjoyment of them in bed, but Kron Darkbow was the most infuriating male she had met. If she did not end up killing him, she might eventually come to like him, or at least appreciate him.
“I believe she meant a nearer destination, Kron,” Randall said.
“As I said, East,” Kron said slowing his steed to traverse a shallow, dry gully.
“You mean East Ursia?” Adara asked.
“Yes.”
“Oh, Ashal,” Randall said.
“Exactly.”
Chapter Five
Most of the next week was spent in the saddle for Adara, Randall and Kron. They made their way east slowly, staying in the relative safety of dense forest when possible and crossing open farmland and fields only when they had no other option.
They strayed far north of the town of Pinsonfork, cutting across a trail of dirt that led north to Caballerus. There were a few villages between Pinsonfork and the mountain range known as the Needles, but Kron made sure they avoided those. He also tried to keep them out of sight of farm houses and one old castle that looked as if it were still inhabited because of firelight in the open windows.
Their food supplies were running low when the far gray peaks of the Needles appeared above the tree line.
“We need something to eat,” Adara said gazing at the distant crags, noting they grew white at the tops, “and we’ll need proper dress if we’re heading into those mountains.”
Kron looked the three of them over and realized Adara was right. His own black garb, Randall’s white robes and Adara’s fencing wardrobe would not block out the chill of the Needles. They would have to venture into civilization for cold-weather gear.
“Randall, can you do anything to keep us warm?” Kron asked.
“I can’t stop the cold,” the healer replied, “but I can take care of frost bite and the like.”
“That won’t do,” Adara said to Kron from her saddle. “He might be able to keep us alive, but we’ll be miserable, too miserable to face Belgad if he should show.”
Again, Kron had to admit Adara was right. The road they had been traveling parallel to for most of their trip ran through the mountains into East Ursia and it took only a couple of days to get through those mountains using the road. Kron would rather avoid the road altogether, but it would take months for them to traverse the Needles if they did not use the road. There was also the possibility they would not survive the climbing. The road would have to be used.
“When I was a boy, there was an old military depot just this side of the Needles that the Western army had converted to a lodge for travelers,” Kron said. “There should be warm clothes.”
“When was the last time you were there?” Adara asked.
“Fifteen years ago,” Kron said, then looked to the healer. “What do you think?”
“Let’s try for this lodge,” Randall said.
“We’ll ride a bit further, then stop for the night,” Kron said. “In the morning I will go to the lodge.”
“Dressed all in black?” Adara said. “The locals will remember you for years. Belgad would have no problem finding out you’d been there. Let me go.”
Kron would have smiled at the woman, but he thought it might make her angry. She had been correct for a third time in one conversation. His training was beginning to pay off. She was using her head and complaining less.
“In the morning, then,” Kron said to her and rode on, “but Randall and I shall be near in case Belgad should rear his ugly, bald head.”
***
The following morning Adara found herself alone marching along the bricked road toward the mountains. There was little traffic, which helped her keep an eye out for Belgad and his crew. She had wrapped Kron’s cloak around her to shield her somewhat from view; she was not dressed to draw attention, but it was not ordinary in rural areas for women to wear men’s clothing, which was basically what Adara wore.
She could see the white waters of the Ursian passing her by on her right as she spotted the road winding its way into the lower levels of the Needles and the upright log walls that surrounded what was the old military depot. The lodge sat in a valley just before a giant crag opened for the road in the mountains. From her slightly elevated position Adara could see a large, two-story log structure inside the surrounding walls. Smoke curled from several brick chimneys in the back of the building and a good number of horses were tied to a post out front. A barn of cut timber sat to one side of the main building and its doors were open as travelers pulled their steeds from inside and prepared for the day’s travel.
As Adara pulled near the open gate of the lodge, an older man in a weathered blue tabard of the West Ursian army excused himself from talking with a group of travelers loading gear on their horses. Adara instantly took in the chain armor the man wore, the sword on his belt and the lengthy axe-like halberd he carried upright. She could see a couple of other men in similar uniforms further inside the grounds.
“Morning to you,” said the man as he walked toward Adara.
“And to you,” Adara said, tying her steed to a hitching post with other horses just inside the gate.
“What can I do for you today?” the man asked.
Adara pointed east along the road that ran into the Needles. “I need clothing for mountain travel,” she said. “Would you have any for sale? Or know of a nearby shop?”
The old man chuckled and jabbed a thumb toward the big log building behind him. “We’ve a goods shop inside,” he said. “I’m sure they’ll have anything you’d be wanting.”
Adara thanked the helpful fellow and made her way to the log building. She was at the bottom of the wooden steps leading up the building’s entrance when she saw four men in chain shirts walking out of the barn and straight for her. They were talking among themselves and did not seem to pay her any attention, but it caused the woman to stop in her tracks.
The four were Belgad’s soldiers, the ones who had chased them at Holderby’s Landing.
Adara’s eyes darted around the grounds of the walled depot, but she saw no other signs of Belgad or his other minions.
The four armored men with swords on their belts continued to walk toward Adara, but they were taking their time and so far had not paid her any attention.
Adara spun and walked away from the steps and toward the open wood gate, hoping all the while the four men would not notice her or at least would not recognize her in Kron’s cloak.
“Decide against buying anything?” the old guard asked as she neared him and her horse.
“You see those four men behind me?” Adara asked without looking back.
The old guard glanced over her shoulder. “You mean those brutes in ch
ain?”
Adara nodded.
“What about them?” the old man asked.
“I saw them on the road a week ago,” Adara said with a whispered voice as she tried to sound like a nosy traveler. “They don’t wear any insignia or colors. I was just curious as to who they are.”
The old man grinned as if he enjoyed sharing gossip. “They rode in her like lightning three days ago,” he said. “They’re with some big muckity muck from the city. Says they’re waiting for someone. You ask me, they’re up to no good.”
“Really?” Adara said, widening her eyes in fake surprise.
“Our captain is allowing them to stay in his quarters,” the guard went on. “He’s got his nose so far up the big, bald muckity muck that I’d be surprised if he can smell his own breakfast at the table.”
Adara chuckled. “I seem to remember seeing some other people with them,” she said, “a woman and two men.”
The old man nodded as he leaned in closer to Adara and his grin grew wider. “There was a woman, and she’s pretty fiery.”
“You mean she has temper?” Adara asked.
“No, I mean she’s fiery,” the old guard said. “She set fire to the rear of one of our men who slapped her on the butt. All she did was point at him and the back of his pants legs burst into flames. I’m thinking she’s one of them wizarding folks from the big city.”
The old fellow obviously enjoyed talking and Adara let him continue.
“There was another fellow with that group,” the guard said. “He was a tall, skinny man dressed like a fop, all silky and like. He looks shifty. I keep my eye on him. I keep my eye on all of them.”