Borin gave a small nod, just to confirm her name, and the half-elf took it to mean he had hit upon the whole truth. He gave a low whistle. “Well, I just hope you haven’t gone and committed yourself by accepting that ‘token’ of hers. You know what some girls are like.”
“No commitment,” laughed Borin, on safer ground now.
“That’s good,” Dannymere nodded, satisfied. “And in that case, I wonder if she has any single friends who are looking for a little romance of their own…”
The company of men travelled through the forest for two more days without incident. The pathways were smooth and well-defined which was unusual for such a wild and uninhabited place. The weather was still warm and they knew that winter would not reach the north until much later.
The dwarves claimed that the desert on the eastern edge of Desea was still so hot that the sand would strip the skin right off the soles of your feet. You had to cross the desert to get to Elms-haven but that huge expanse of arid land deterred many from making the journey. It had not put Borin off though; he was quite determined to do it, although he hoped it would be a little bit cooler by the time he was ready. Borin still had not broached the subject with Dannymere but he planned to do it very soon.
It was on the afternoon of the fourth day that an unexpected turn of events took them all by surprise. The men were watering their horses at a fast flowing stream when the sound of hooves started to shake the ground behind them.
At first, they feared an attack and their weapons were quickly unsheathed in readiness. But what appeared was no cause for concern- just two horses and not the legion they had feared. The riders were both slumped in the saddle, as if asleep, so their faces were hidden, but their clothes helped to identify them.
“It’s Fulk and Jed!” Callum cried, rushing forward while his horse continued to drink.
“Quick! Get them down!” Bardolph barked and many helping hands gently pulled them from their saddles. The mercenaries laid them down on their backs, on the embankment near the stream.
The men were alive but badly hurt. Their faces were a myriad of bruises: some paler and older but others more recent and dark. Jed had a split lip that was swollen to three times its usual size and some of his teeth were missing. Rope marks were evident on their wrists and ankles, meaning they had been bound tightly, and both men were painfully thin, as if they had gone without food for a long time.
“Water!” Bardolph shouted, and within seconds he had it and was splashing the men with it.
Jed was the first to come round and he recognised his bald-headed comrade immediately. “Bardolph- it sure is good to see your ugly face again!” he wheezed before taking the proffered water-skin and drinking greedily. “Where’s Fulk?”
“Just here,” Bardolph reassured him.
“Wake up!” he said, weakly shaking him by the shoulders. “Wake up, Fulk! We’ve found them.”
Fulk mumbled incoherently for a few moments and then one eye opened. He shook his head and groaned when he saw the crowd of faces staring back at him but that was enough to delight his friend who grabbed him in a bear hug. “We made it, you and me, we made it!”
The mercenaries were desperate to hear what had happened to their comrades and the two men were equally desperate to tell them. However, the merchant was strict and ordered them to eat and rest awhile in the back of a wagon, before he would allow them to speak at length.
The day dragged after that, especially for Callum who could not wait to see his friends. His elation at finding them alive was soon replaced by impatience.
“Whatever’s happened, we can all wait a little longer to hear it,” Bardolph said sternly when he observed the man’s countenance. “Your friends have been through a terrible ordeal and they need to rest.”
“They’ll be alright now they’re back with us,” Borin added.
“I guess you’re right,” Callum nodded and the matter was dropped.
That afternoon, Borin decided to ask Dannymere what he wanted to do once they arrived at Desea.
“I hadn’t really thought about it,” the half-elf admitted ruefully. “I assumed we’d be going back to Balsan but I’m not bothered either way. You know me- I’m easy!”
So Borin revealed his own hopes and desires; to see the sights of Desea and to cross the desert into Elms-haven. His friend listened carefully, occasionally nodding, but when Borin got the part about the elven land, his countenance changed completely.
“I don’t want to go back home,” he said quietly.
Borin was surprised and he said so. He knew that Dannymere had been born in Elms-haven but he knew very little else because Dannymere never spoke of it.
The two men had met in the army and discovered they had much in common: like a quick wit and loyal nature. When an old and prejudiced corporal started making Dannymere’s life difficult, it was Borin who had stood up for him.
Corporal Reed remembered a time when elves were not tolerated in the Kingdom and he longed for a return to the past. At first it was nasty jibes and sarcastic remarks which the half-elf had done his best to ignore. But then the corporal had thought up other ways to single him out. Dannymere had frequently been given the worst jobs, like scrubbing floors and cleaning the toilets. Once, the corporal had even smeared faeces on the wall and told the half-elf to clean it with his bare hands.
Borin had done what his friend had been unwilling or unable to do- he had rallied the other men, appealing to their humanity and honour, so that the next time the corporal had tried to pull a stunt like that, he found a solid resistance. Corporal Reed had retired soon after, by which time Borin and Dannymere had become firm friends.
Borin longed to learn more about his friend’s homeland but he did not want to push him on the matter. Maybe when they reached Desea and the holiday spirit set in, Dannymere would change his mind. Borin certainly hoped so.
When the wagons slowed to a stop that evening, Callum was the first man out of his saddle. He handed his reigns to Rolphus, who had kindly agreed to take his horse so that he could go straight to his friends.
Callum encountered the merchant on his way and Dromak said, “Come on, we’ll both go in together. I’m still their boss, so I should be one of the first to speak with them.”
The men arrived at the wagon and Callum leapt on board. “They’re not here!” he said, turning to face the merchant. “Are you sure this is the right wagon?”
What followed was a frantic search of all the wagons, but to no avail. There was no sign of either man. They had completely vanished again.
“Impossible!” said Felis when he heard the news. “I was riding next to that wagon the whole way. Nobody went in or out.”
“It’s true,” said Hugo. “I was there too.”
“It’s just like before,” wailed Callum, “when we were collecting the firewood.Now do you believe me?”
The mercenaries were up in arms. None of them could explain what had happened and, more worrying still, was the possibility that the same thing might happen to them.
“I don’t believe in magic,” said Dromak, “but someone is definitely playing tricks on us.” And when he looked down, his fine leather belt was missing and so too were his rubies.
Chapter 9
The Move is Made
The temperature dropped dramatically in the night and the mercenaries were cold in their sacks. They longed for a fire to warm their bones but they did not dare to light one.
Borin’s sleep was very disrupted with weird dreams wedged between moments of wakefulness. In one dream he was climbing a tree and looking out to sea. The waves were huge and he was scared of being washed away. The higher the waves, the higher he had to climb so that by the time he was roused to take over the watch, he felt more tired than before.
A few hours before day-break, an eerie blue light started to seep into the camp. Borin was instantly on his guard and he turned through three-hundred and sixty degrees, trying to find the source of the light. He did not find it
but instead he saw two large figures standing next to the wagon where the merchant slept.
Borin assumed the intruders were making for the cargo but they passed the wagons and started creeping around the camp. He watched them take a few tentative steps forward, then pause to check their surroundings, before repeating the process again. Step… step… step… stop. Step… step… step… stop.
Borin carefully unsheathed his dagger and hunkered down, close to the ground. He clicked his fingers twice, a sound like twigs snapping and a discrete signal to those keeping watch to the immediate left and right. He followed it up with an owl hoot, designed to reach those at the outer perimeter of the camp, and he waited.
A full minute passed but no help came. Borin swore under his breath and advanced, determined to keep the intruders in his sights. They were walking more slowly now, as if they were looking for a particular something or someone. A few times they leaned over a motionless mound before moving off again, to continue the search.
And then they stopped: right next to the bedroll with Dannymere in it. The intruders reached down, grabbed the sleeping half-elf beneath his armpits and began dragging him out of his covers.
“Hey-” he yelled instinctively but then he must have recognised them because he said, “Oh it’s you! What are you doing?”
When the dragging continued, the half-elf realised he was in trouble. He started to shout and kick but they had him firmly and were not letting go. Dannymere was making such a din that the whole camp should have been awake and on their feet but it was as still as a mausoleum.
Borin leapt across to Rolphus who was sleeping on the ground. His mouth was open and he was snoring. Borin shook him, ready to clasp a hand across his mouth as he stirred. Nothing happened. The man slept on. Another bout of shaking made no difference at all and Borin found it was the same with each and every other man he tried. It was as if they were under a spell.
The full weight of the situation dawned on him then and he went tearing after the intruders on a one-man mission to rescue his friend.
Albin was crouched behind the curtain of his wagon. Dannymere’s shouts had woken him and he had watched the shadowy scene at a safe distance, not knowing what to do. He had been perplexed by the blue light, the sleeping mercenaries and by Borin’s failed attempts to rouse them. Now he was rooted by indecision; whether to stay and hide until the others woke up or to give chase and help the other man.
Albin had no weapon of his own; nor had he ever held one so he did not know what kind of help he could offer. And yet there was one thing he did know: he could not turn his back on his comrade, knowing that he was the only other person in the whole camp who might be able to help. Clenching his teeth in determination, and to stop them chattering, Albin flung the curtain aside and plunged after the others, deep into the forest.
Dannymere had done all he could to alert the others and slow the intruders down but his continual thrashing around earned him a swift kick to the temple and he blacked out. Dannymere was a dead weight and after a few hundred yards his captors stopped to rest.
In the next instant, Borin was upon them. One man was down with a dagger in his back, before the other had a chance to react. He was still fumbling for his weapon as Borin grabbed him from behind, by the base of the neck, and lifted him clean off the ground.
“Stop!” choked the man and when he recognised the voice, Borin dropped him like a hot stone. Looking up from the floor was Fulk, one of the missing mercenaries. But his eyes were white, like milk, and the pupils were missing.
“What’s this?” Borin demanded and he heard a deep laugh emanating from the depths of the forest. The air began to buzz around him, like an angry hive of bees.
“He’s just a servant!” hissed the voice. “And I have many!”
The laughter continued as another six shadowy figures appeared, lurking between the trees. As they came closer, Borin could see they all had the same milky white eyes and they all carried swords. He gulped and stepped back.
Fulk saw his chance and leapt at him, catching his legs and taking him down to the ground. As the men rolled and wrestled, the other enemies closed in. Then an arrow whizzed by and it felled one of them. Borin used the distraction to throw Fulk aside and aim a swift elbow to his face. He heard the familiar crunch of a nose breaking.
Borin recalled what Callum had said about Fulk’s family life- about his wife and his young daughters. He understood now that the man was under some kind of spell so he could not deliver the killer blow. Instead, he picked up a rock and aimed it at the side of his head.
As soon as Fulk lost consciousness, the colour returned to his eyes and a moment later they rolled back into his head. Borin had to leave him there as two more figures clawed across the ground to reach him. One was nearly upon him when a sharp sword appeared from nowhere, severing the head from the shoulders.
Borin looked up and saw Felis above him with his hand outstretched. “Come on,” he said, kicking the other cursed man away.
Gratefully, he allowed the fighter to pull him up. Together they dispatched the remaining enemy before retracing their steps to Dannymere, who was still lying unconscious in the grass. Felis hauled him up and flung him over his shoulder as if he weighed nothing while Borin looked on in astonishment.
Behind them was Hugo, firing arrows into an advancing figure which was refusing to fall. “This one’s tough,” he said through clenched teeth. He let another arrow loose and finally the enemy toppled.
Felis touched his nephew on the arm. “Let’s go before more come.”
Hugo gave a curt nod and turned to Borin. “We brought the horses. They’re tethered nearby.”
“How did you know-” Borin began but Hugo cut him off.
“There’s no time. Follow me.”
The men stumbled along, low on energy but high on adrenaline. Felis was still out in front, even with the added weight of the half-elf on his back. Before long, they heard feet crashing through the bushes behind them and they knew that at least one of the cursed men was close.
In the next instant, Borin tripped over a tree root and his world turned upside down. The wind was knocked from his lungs and before he could get up, a large figure loomed over him. He thought his time had come when he saw the glint of steel in the first rays of morning light and he screwed his eyes shut.
“Stop!” said a small voice and when Borin opened his eyes, he saw Albin there. The young boy was standing just in front of him, using his flimsy body as a shield.
“Get out of the way!” Borin said, terrified that he would be butchered. But then he noticed something odd. The sword had stopped as commanded.
The sword began to shimmer, warp and change right before their eyes. Now instead of a sword, the cursed man was holding a serpent with purple scales and a forked black tongue. The creature hissed and whipped around, biting the cursed man on the neck. The man screamed as the teeth penetrated his skin and deadly poison was released into his blood. His face started to turn purple and to swell.
The cursed man soon had a head the size of a watermelon. Borin guessed what was happening and looked away just before the head exploded. When he looked back, a headless corpse lay on the track; the plants and bushes were covered with gore and the young boy next to him looked about ready to faint.
The serpent was gone and the original sword lay innocently at Borin’s feet as if asking to be claimed. The sword looked very old, with scrolling patterns on the hilt and a shape like an eye carved into the pommel.
“Shall we take it with us?” Albin asked.
“No- don’t even touch it,” Borin grimaced. “Let’s get out of here.”
The men found their horses soon after and Borin was pleased to be reunited with Duchess. She rubbed against him affectionately and he patted her on the nose.
Felis had to ditch his saddle so that he could ride with the unconscious half-elf in front of him, leaning over the neck of the animal.
Borin thought they were returning to the ca
mp but Felis shook his head. “We’re bound for Elms-haven,” he said. “We can’t go back. It’s not safe for you there.”
“B-b-but they need me to serve the food,” Albin protested in a small voice. “It’s my first job and I can’t let them down. I was counting on the wage too,” he said, blushing.
“You will get whatever the merchant promised you and more, just as soon as we get to Elms-haven.”
“What about Minkle? He won’t know what to do without me.”
Felis felt sorry for the boy but retracing their steps would be too risky. “I’m sorry,” he said. “We can’t go back but your pet will be safe as long as he stays with the others.”
“What about Dromak?” Borin asked. “He’s losing men left, right and centre. We must go back to fulfil our duty.”
“Trust me, you think the cargo needs protecting but your friend needs protecting more. Haven’t you ever stopped to wonder why he’s always at the centre of things?”
Borin sighed. There had been so many strange happenings and he could not see the connection.
“You really have no clue do you?” Hugo said, his cold tone returning.
Felis tutted at his nephew. “You’ve held a grudge against Borin for weeks but now you can see that he’s innocent in all of this. It’s time to make your peace, Hugo.”
Hugo hung his head and when he looked up again, his features had softened. “My uncle is right,” he admitted. “I thought you were keeping him away from his kin, filling his head with dreams of a free life when he should be fulfilling his duties instead. Now I see I was wrong.”
Borin looked at Hugo blankly. “We are still talking about Dannymere, aren’t we?”
“Yes, but his name isn’t Dannymere… it’s Arius, the royal prince and heir to the throne of Elms-haven and he needs to be back in his homeland in time for his coronation!”
Chapter 10
The Lost Son Page 6