She stepped quickly to receive his arm. Together they descended the stony path to the valley below.
What a sight they made: an old man and a young lady, arm in arm, carefully picking their way down the hill in the last rays of a dying day. Many men would remember that sight long after they’d forgotten James’s bier or the bitter battles they had fought.
Torches lit the procession as thousands paid their last respects. Out of sight, but not out of mind, the gates of Devia remained closed and silent.
Kneeling beside the open grave, Jennifer tossed the first handful of dirt upon the body. James looked so peaceful; she found it hard to feel sorry for him.
Her mind drifted to the men lining the floors of the command center. This would not be a peaceful night of tranquility for them. Those with less grievous wounds were bunked outside. She could hear their cries as pain ate holes into their courage and pride.
“Are you ready to go?”
She heard the familiar voice beside her. She knew men were all about her, but she was aware of only one. She took John’s hand and rose to her feet. “Yes, I need to return. I’ve already been away too long.”
Even in the torchlight, she could see concern written upon John’s face. “Are you sure you will be all right?” he asked. “The lads tell me the tent is full!”
“I have plenty of room for myself, and my heart would be at peace in no other location. I only hope to share some comfort with these poor men.”
John smiled at her. “You are a brave young woman, but you must allow time for your own rest. Tomorrow will require strength to pass its tests as well.”
She nodded and took his arm. Together they ascended the steep hill to the tent.
“I would like to speak with you tomorrow,” John said. “We cannot leave you or those who are injured here indefinitely.”
She nodded and started to turn away.
John’s big hands caught her shoulders and turned her once again to face him. Looking deeply into her eyes, his voice faltered. “Thank you for helping me through this evening.”
Impulsively, she threw her arms around his neck and planted a soft kiss on his cheek. Turning, she slipped through the tent’s flap.
John could hear a cacophony of voices rise to meet her entrance. “Miss Jennifer, help me!”
CHAPTER 19
A Quest Begins
A new command center was established across the ravine from Jennifer’s hospital. There Gaff, Stafford, and various officers interviewed those who’d had contact with Thomas in the days before his disappearance. Outside, thousands of soldiers searched through the dead on the battlefield. Thomas’s body was not found. Hope grew that he was indeed alive somewhere. Jabin’s stronghold in Endor was mentioned time and time again.
“Why would anyone take Thomas to Endor?” John asked.
“Where would you take the kidnapped prince of Amity?” Gaff asked.
There was a long pause. “You know, we’re not sure he was kidnapped,” John said.
“Jabin has no use for another dead body. If Thomas had been slain, they would have let him lie. I say he has been kidnapped and is probably at Endor. If he’s not there, then where is he?”
“What about Devia’s fortress?” someone asked.
“Too close,” another voice responded. “Someone inside would get word to us.”
“Maybe.” John’s tone was reluctant. “But why do you keep tying Samoth to this affair?”
“Thomas and Samoth have never been on good terms, sir,” Rudy said quickly.
John smiled. “How do you know so much about my son’s relationships?”
Rudy began again. “Sir, it has never been a secret that Samoth and his father long to exert the power and authority over people that you and your sons are able to do. They could have the throne and be the lords of Amity—if your family were out of the way. Samoth is the same age as Thomas, but he has always walked in his shadow, and his resentment runs high.”
“And I’ll vouch that Samoth is in league with Jabin,” Gaff added. “Endor seems likely to me.”
Rudy glanced at Seagood before speaking and then added, “Excuse me, sir, but Seagood and I volunteer to go to Endor to find Thomas.”
“I want to go as well,” Mathias demanded. “The family of Gaff should be represented.”
John smiled at their willingness but shook his head. “No, I can’t let you go. It would cost you your lives.”
Gaff surprised John. “I disagree with you, John. I think the boys should go. If they travel light, they might be able to catch Samoth before he reaches the safety of Endor. If we march with an army, we will be opposed all the way, giving him too much time. Speed is essential.”
“But you can’t send your son!”
“Why not?” Gaff asked. “Mathias is of age. But three is not enough. I would recommend six. They can travel quickly, yet they will have plenty of fighting power in a pinch. However”—and he looked directly at his son—”you must not use confrontation but stealth as your weapon.”
John looked about the determined faces within the group. “All right,” he said. “It seems to be settled. Seagood,” he said, turning to the grave young man, “pick three more men to accompany you, and set out tonight under the cover of darkness.”
Seagood stepped along the rows of volunteers.
Darren Yeoman had grown up in the house of Stafford. He had been a constant companion to James and Thomas from the earliest days. Last summer he had fought by their side in the battle of Great Bend. He, among all the men assembled, probably knew the mind and thoughts of Thomas better than most. Seagood chose him.
Clyde Fost stood out as well. Bodyguard and companion of Thomas, he was among those most devastated by his master’s disappearance. He felt personally responsible. He would travel with the six.
The group needed one more man. Seagood stepped down the line, examining each man. A boy inched forward as Seagood approached.
“No! Not you, Wart!” Rudy called from behind Seagood. “You don’t realize the danger. We need warriors, not boys!”
Undaunted, the lad continued to look Seagood straight in the eyes. Then he spoke. “I know some of the languages and customs of the men of the north. I may not be a warrior, but I’m not afraid.”
Smiling, Seagood leaned back and studied the lad before him.
“Wart, how do you know the languages?” Rudy asked. He knew the lad had been very fond of Thomas and would do anything for him. He hoped Wart wasn’t making up a story just to be chosen.
“My father was a boatman on the Great River above the Fords,” the boy said proudly, and then his eyes dropped. “That is, until he disappeared.”
“Can you speak the language of Endor?” Rudy asked.
“Understand it better than speak it, sir. But I would do my best.”
Seagood seemed satisfied. Giving a nod, the group was complete. They would leave yet tonight.
“Wart, how is it you know all about this country?” Rudy asked.
“I don’t know all about it. I’ve been on the river several times with my father, but he didn’t let me go often. There were too many pirates, and my presence would have made his travels too dangerous.” Wart went silent and bit his tongue. He felt sure there were some in this group who resented his presence. They thought he was too young and would hinder their progress.
“Where did you stay while your father was gone?”
“We had a cabin on the west side of the river.”
The stillness was broken only by their conversation. Mathias and Seagood led the procession, followed by Clyde and Darren. Rudy and Wart brought up the rear. They followed the main road west from Green Meadow. Gaff’s men held the road secure, and the group was forced to stop at many check stations. Mathias was readily recognized by his fellow countrymen, and that helped speed them on their journey.
>
Their route was a constant descent coming off the mountain pass at Green Meadow, and they were making good time. There was a long silence before Wart asked, “Rudy, do you know what route we are taking?”
“No.”
The silence lingered. They passed another checkpoint.
“This saddle sure is getting hard,” Wart complained some time later.
“I told you it wasn’t going to be easy.” Rudy laughed. “Now you’ll just have to hang in there. We have barely started.”
To Wart it felt like they had ridden all night when they came to yet another check station. Rudy had shaken him from a half sleep as they’d neared the circle of light around a campfire. Wart heard Mathias ask the sentry, “Do we still hold the road to the Fords?”
“There is no guarantee, sir. Our scouts report nothing, but we have had no forces west of this point for days.”
Rudy pushed forward to join the conversation, and Mathias turned to address the group. “Where do we go from here? The most secure road leads southwest to Great Bend. We could take the river from there.”
“And add several days to our journey,” Clyde said quietly.
“Yes,” Mathias said rather stiffly. “Or we could take the road west. It is unsure, but it angles over the mountains until it reaches the Fords on the Great River.”
Rudy studied Seagood’s impassive face for a while and then said, “I cast my vote for the road to the Fords. It will shorten our time on the river.”
Seagood nodded, and everyone remounted, turning their horses toward the northwest.
Now, an army checkpoint is not a homey place, but any time out of a saddle can be restful. A small fire crackled near the road and brought with it a sense of civilization and friends. Leaving the fire behind brought a deep sense of loneliness upon the travelers. The clopping of horses’ hooves was the only sound to disturb the night.
It was very late when a crescent moon rose in the eastern sky. Veiled behind thin clouds, it cast eerie shadows across their path. The twisted limbs of scrub oaks looked like giant trolls reaching out to devour the little group.
An owl hooted overhead, and Wart shivered, glad to be in the company of others. The path rose steeply at the foot of each mountain and dropped sharply into the valley beyond. Dense forest growth in the valleys turned the path black as ink, and the air was so cold it seemed to chill one’s very soul. Wart thought morning would never come.
Finally the sky began to soften from black to gray, and colors began to greet the land through which they rode. Not one homestead, campfire, or traveler had greeted them since the last check point.
The tiny group huddled behind a huge boulder at the top of an especially high mountain pass. The crisp, cold air stung their faces and numbed their fingers. The high, thin clouds were turning shades of red and orange, illuminating an undulating pattern of hills that separated them from the Great River and Fords.
Rudy finally spoke. “We’d better make camp. There is no use in us being seen and announcing our mission to the entire world.”
They quickly descended the mountain and found a spot some distance from the path in the valley below. Watering their horses at a small stream, they unsaddled, rubbed, and tethered their stock. Then, without the pleasure of a campfire or warm food, they bunked down.
Wart was asleep before his head hit the sod.
“Get up, sleepyhead!” A boot gently raked Wart’s ribs. Wart opened his eyes and marveled. It wasn’t fully light yet.
“Hey, can’t a guy get any rest?”
There were a couple of snickers from the group. “Get any rest?” Rudy mocked. “We let you sleep all day. Don’t tell me you want to sleep all night too!”
Bewildered, the lad sat up. The light was just about as dim as when he had fallen asleep. Trying to get his bearings, Wart remembered seeing his shadow before hitting the sod; now it lay on the opposite side of his body.
“All day!” he said, stretching.
“Come on, sleeping beauty,” Rudy said cheerfully. “We may even make the Fords before dawn if we can get everyone up and moving.”
In truth, Wart had slept all day. Others had taken turns standing guard through the eventless day. No one had passed on the road, and even birds sang little to break the silence.
Jumping up, Wart began to roll his blanket. His stomach growled, and he remembered how hungry he had been before falling asleep.
“Take time to eat,” Rudy said, laughing. “We don’t want your stomach waking the countryside tonight.”
Wart sniffed the air. Something was cooking. Mathias, Clyde, and Darren were seated around a small, smokeless campfire. Several small quail were simmering over the glow of the coals.
It was dusk when they departed. Wart was still licking his fingers. He turned to Rudy and asked, “Who got the birds?”
“Seagood was scouting when he came across the covey.”
“Boy, I’m glad he found them. I was about to starve!”
“So I noticed. Doesn’t the food in the pack excite you anymore?”
Wart wrinkled his nose. “Excite? No. But it will do in a pinch, I guess.”
Rudy smiled. “You might just make it yet, boy!”
They rode silently through the night, topping each mountain only to follow the twisting path into the valley beyond. Wart didn’t know how many hours they had ridden, and he didn’t care after the first several.
Mathias rode beside him this night. He didn’t have much to say, and Wart wondered if the man didn’t like him. Maybe he thinks I was too forward at the selection process, Wart thought. Maybe he thinks Seagood could have made a better choice.
Wart remained silent a long time, his thoughts constantly accusing him. Maybe Seagood could have chosen better, he thought, wincing at his own admission.
It was very late when Seagood brought the group to a halt. Silently they sat in the darkness, listening. With a quick movement, Seagood reined his horse into the bushes along the path. The others followed suit, and in moments they were huddled in dark shadows a short distance from the path.
Wart was dying to ask what was going on, for he had not seen or heard a thing, but the tension he sensed in the others kept him silent. After some moments, he slowly began to hear a faint sound. Imperceptible at first, it grew more distinct. It was the clatter of horses’ hooves.
A few moments later, a large company of horsemen came galloping up the road. Mathias grabbed for his sword, but Seagood held his arm.
The riders passed recklessly into the night. They were disorganized and heedless of their surroundings. Minutes passed. Gradually the noise of their passing subsided. Still, Seagood made no move, waiting, tense and silent.
“We should have waylaid them!” Mathias whispered. “They will probably attack the supply line to Green Meadow.”
“The six of us were no match for them,” Clyde whispered.
“We could have made them pay for their carelessness,” Mathias retorted.
“That isn’t our mission,” Rudy said quietly. “We are to find and rescue Thomas. No doubt, routing that company would have been about as easy.”
“Well, which way do we go now?” Darren asked, changing the subject. “This road may be crawling with soldiers.”
A lengthy discussion ensued. Some thought going back to the road was too risky. Others argued that it was the only way to the Fords. They were about to take a vote when a small voice broke in. “I think I know another way.”
Stunned to silence, the group turned to look at Wart. He had been studying the dark terrain while they discussed their plight. Leading his horse into their midst, he spoke quietly. “The Fords are a common exchange point for river traffic. Barges from north and south meet wagons from east and west. Goods are bartered or exchanged, and then everyone goes back home.”
The group shifted restlessly. They knew this i
nformation already.
“If we go back to the road, we don’t know who we might meet,” Wart said.
Someone stirred, and someone else cleared his throat. As they began to consider this, they realized they might meet a caravan of merchants. Traveling in the western wild was dangerous, and to lessen the risk, many traders hired bands of ruffians or renegade soldiers to escort them over the roads. They had no idea what they might find at the Fords.
Wart continued. “On one of my father’s runs, we cached our goods to avoid bandits. We later packed those goods through these mountains following deer trails. I’m sure we could go straight north through these mountains and hit the river unobserved.”
There was a long moment of silence, and then Rudy asked, “How far is it?”
“Are these paths known by others?” Darren asked.
“I don’t know how far it is,” Wart stammered. “We traveled in daylight, and it didn’t take all day, but we could see where we were going. I don’t know how many people use those paths, but I doubt very many.”
“How long ago was this?” Rudy persisted.
“I don’t remember exactly,” Wart said, “but it was several years.”
“Could you find this path in the dark?”
“I don’t know,” Wart said honestly. “Path or no path, I know the river is straight north over several hills.”
Seagood stirred and studied the boy intently. Wart could actually feel the inspection more than see it, but undaunted, he held his ground and returned Seagood’s gaze.
Rudy watched the exchange between the two, and after a long moment he said, “Well, gentlemen, it appears we are going to follow the Wart.”
Wart began to tremble. I don’t want to lead these men! Why did I ever open my mouth?
Scrambling over rocky terrain, Rudy tried to keep pace with the wiry boy. Like shadowy phantoms, he could just see the others ahead, leading their horses through the darkness. He had lost ground going up the very first slope and had continued to fall farther behind. The path was nearly impossible to see.
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