by Ben Cassidy
Chapter 2
It didn’t take very long to find Simon. The mule was wandering aimlessly in the bushes a little ways up the trail. He brayed happily when Kendril appeared.
“Faithful as always, huh?” Kendril asked the beast as he grabbed his bridle. “First sign of danger and you bolt like a rabbit.”
Simon gave him a sloppy kiss on the side of his face.
Kendril pushed the mule’s head away. “Come on,” he said. “And stay close this time, okay?”
The mule grunted his acknowledgement.
Kendril had half-hoped the woman would just be gone when he returned. It would certainly have made things easier. He could have searched around for a bit, shrugged his shoulders, and continued on his way. But she was still there, right where he had left her. It didn’t look like she had moved at all.
Simon gave an unhappy snort at the smell of blood.
Kendril gave him a sour look. “Quit whining, you big lout. Here, hold still.”
He removed some items from the pack on the mule’s back, then tied Simon to a branch on one of the nearby trees.
The animal immediately began searching the undergrowth for something to eat.
With a sigh, Kendril pulled his gloves on, then turned to the woman.
He cut her bonds, and then carried her over to one of the logs by the campfire, resting her gently against it. After a quick search for the driest pieces of wood he could find, he started a small fire, warming some water over it while he pulled some clean cloth out of the saddlebag.
Within ten minutes he had cleaned out her wound with the water and tied the white cloth over it as a bandage.
That done, he heated up some more water, made some coffee, and leaned back against one of the trees, drinking the steaming liquid out of a tin cup and watching the rain soundlessly.
About half an hour later, the girl gave a sigh. Her eyes fluttered open. She stared at the fire for a moment, closed her eyes, than opened them again.
With a jerk she sat upright, the blanket falling from her shoulders. She stared quickly at Kendril, her eyes wide with fear. She opened her mouth, but the words seemed to catch in her throat.
Kendril didn’t look at her. “Are you hungry? There’s some bread, if you want. A little bit of dried meat, too.”
She pivoted her head, taking in the small campfire, and Simon tied up a few feet away. She turned her gaze back to Kendril.
“What do you want with me?” she said.
He shrugged. “I don’t want anything with you.”
The woman gave him a confused look. “Where am I?”
Her eyes were blue, Kendril noticed. He had been betting brown.
“Somewhere in the Howling Woods. Don’t ask me exactly where. I’m not quite sure myself. Do you know how you came to be here?”
The woman began to answer, then stopped. Her eyes showed a flash of puzzlement, then fear. “I…I don’t remember,” she said, her voice shaking a bit. She reached up, and gingerly touched the bandage on the side of her head.
Simon snorted, pawing the ground.
Kendril ignored him. “Looks like you took a pretty nasty blow to the head,” he said. “You were probably out for a while. Are you injured?”
The young woman stared at the campfire, then back at Kendril. “No. No, I don’t…I don’t think so. Just this.” She touched her bandage again. She stared at Kendril, her eyes showing her uncertainty.
He glanced up at the cloudy sky. The rain was finally dying down. “I’m not going to hurt you, if that’s what you’re wondering. What’s your name?”
She started, then stared into the fire again. She closed her eyes. “I don’t remember.”
Kendril tilted his head. “You don’t remember your own name?”
She opened her eyes again. “I don’t remember anything. I can’t…” Her voice began to break, but she fought back her tears with determination. “I can’t remember anything,” she continued, her voice steady once again. “It’s like I just woke up by this fire for the first time.”
Kendril leaned forward. “You don’t remember who attacked you? Where you were before this?”
She shook her head.
Kendril got to his feet, shaking the raindrops off his cloak. “Can you stand?”
“Maybe,” she said. “Yes, I can try.”
He stretched out a gloved hand.
She took it, rising rather shakily to her feet.
Kendril led her away from the fire, supporting her with one arm.
They reached the body of the dead man lying in the grass. Kendril flipped it over with his foot, watching her face carefully. There was no sign of recognition in her eyes.
She glanced away quickly. “You killed him?” There was new fear in her voice.
“He tried to kill me,” Kendril responded testily. “Ambushed me on the trail back there. I followed him back here and found you tied up. You don’t recognize him at all?”
She shook her head again.
Kendril scowled. Wonderful.
By the time they reached the campfire, she was able to walk by herself. She lowered herself onto the log, clutching her knees with her hands.
Kendril remained standing, leaning against one of the trees a few feet away. “Let me get this straight. You can’t remember anything? Nothing at all?”
She nodded slowly, the color draining from her face. A tear streamed down her cheek. She bit her lip until it grew white.
Kendril mumbled a curse, staring out across the clearing for a moment. If she was lying, she was a pretty convincing actor. His gut told him that she wasn’t. Unfortunately, that meant that the only other person who could answer his questions was lying dead a few yards away.
“Well,” he said finally, “I suppose we should get moving, if you feel well enough to travel. I can take you as far as the Outpost, about a day or two from here. Maybe someone there will recognize you.”
The woman looked at him. “The Outpost?”
“Yeah. Just a trading post mostly, but the closest thing to civilization for a ways. If we’re lucky you’ll remember something by then. Do you think you can travel?”
The woman drew the blanket around her, staring down into the campfire. She nodded slowly. “Yes. I can walk.”
Kendril chuckled. “I’ve no doubt you can. I was thinking you could ride Simon, though, at least for the first part. He’s stronger than he looks.”
She glanced over at the mule, who was scratching his flank against the tree trunk. “Your mule?” she asked.
Kendril nodded. “Why don’t you grab something to eat, and then we can head out when you’re ready.”
She brushed a strand of hair away from her face. “I’m not very hungry.”
He nodded. “All right. There’s some coffee here, if you want it. You can warm it up again on the fire. I’m going to see if I can find more water. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” He turned to go.
“Why are you helping me like this?” the woman asked suddenly.
Kendril turned around. A smile crept across his face. “What was I supposed to do, leave you to the wolves?”
“Thank you,” she said.
Kendril nodded. “I’ll be back in a few minutes,” he said.
The trail ahead didn’t get much better, but at least the rain looked like it had stopped for the day. The sun even managed to break out a few times, though only for brief moments.
At first Simon was not happy at the prospect of carrying a passenger, but Kendril had a talk with the beast in private. After explaining the situation and bribing the animal with a carrot from the saddlebag, Simon seemed a lot happier. Kendril even carried one of the saddlebags and the rifle, so as not to tax the creature. The air still had a distinct chill to it, so the woman kept the blanket, wrapping it tightly around her as she sat on the back of the mule.
They walked for about two hours in silence, Kendril leading and Simon trotting behind with the precious cargo on his back. Ever
y few minutes or so Kendril would halt them, and check the trail behind them for a few moments. Simon didn’t seem to mind the frequent breaks. The woman said nothing, but Kendril could tell that she was still weak enough to need the breaks as well. She didn’t complain, though, and she was gradually getting more color back in her face.
Kendril was just returning from one of his brief scouting trips back down the trail when he saw the girl rubbing Simon behind his ear. The mule was grunting and snorting in pleasure. She glanced over at him with a smile.
“I think I’ve found your mule’s favorite spot to be scratched,” she said.
Kendril grabbed the saddlebag from where he had dropped it on the ground, slinging it over his shoulder. “Don’t spoil him.”
She laughed. “I hardly think that’s possible. He really is a pleasant creature.” She turned her head, fixing Kendril with her bright blue eyes. “I just realized…I know the mule’s name, but not yours.”
He smiled. “Kendril. I don’t suppose you’ve remembered your name yet?”
Her smile faltered. “No.” She scratched the mule in silence for a moment. “You don’t believe me, do you? About not remembering anything?”
Kendril dropped the saddlebag again. His back was aching anyway. He looked away for a moment, back down the overgrown trail. “I think we all have things we’d like to forget.” He looked back at her, running a gloved hand through his brown hair. “But I’ve never heard of someone losing their memory before.”
The woman surprised Kendril with a smile. “I can’t tell you if I’ve heard of it or not.” Her face suddenly grew more serious. “I’m telling you the truth, Kendril. If I could remember anything, I’d—”
He raised a hand. “It’s all right,” he said. “There might be someone in town who can give us some better answers. At any rate it’s beyond me.” He glanced down the trail again.
“Why do you keep checking behind us?” The girl straightened, looking back down the trail herself. “What are you looking for?”
Kendril rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Nothing in particular. Just being careful.”
“Careful of what?”
“Just a thought, that’s all. It seems kind of odd to me that there was one man with you out in the woods all by himself. What exactly was he planning to do?”
She glanced quickly down at the muddy trail. “Well, I suppose—he might have…”
Kendril shook his head. “Then why was he watching the trail? He couldn’t have seen me or heard me if he was back at the campsite. He was waiting at the outcropping, and watching for someone or something.”
“You think there might be others?” asked the woman quietly.
“I don’t know. It’s possible. Either way, I think the more distance we put between us and that place, the better.” He reached down and grabbed the saddlebag. “How are you holding up?”
“A lot better, thanks.” She smiled. “I get a little dizzy from time to time, and my head is still pounding, but it’s starting to ease up a bit.”
Kendril slung the saddlebag over his shoulder once more. “So what exactly am I supposed to call you?” He smirked. “Until you get your memory back, at least. Calling you “lady in the green dress” will get pretty old.”
“It’s jade,” she said suddenly.
“Pardon?” Kendril gave her an odd look.
“It’s jade,” she repeated. “The color of the dress. Not green. Jade.” She reached up with a confused look, touching her bandage. “That’s odd. I just….” She gave him a strange look. “I don’t know why I know that. It just seems important for some reason.”
“All right, then.” Kendril stepped ahead onto the trail, grabbing Simon by the bridle. “Why don’t I call you Jade, then? When you remember your real name, you can let me know.”
She gave a shy smile, nodding her head. “Sounds good.”
“Then let’s go, Jade,” said Kendril, turning towards the trail. “We have a few more hours before nightfall to find a place to camp. By tomorrow we should be at the Outpost.”
The three figures started down the trail once more.
“She’s gone!” The man emerged from the bushes out onto the road, gasping for breath.
For a brief moment there was only stunned silence. The eight horsemen stared down at the man, their mounts anxiously pawing the muddy ground.
“What do you mean, ‘gone’?” said one of the riders in an icy tone. He was dressed in a long blue cloak, with a black hat on his head which sported a large red feather. His sleeves ended in frilly white lace. “Where’s Nedric?”
“He’s dead,” sputtered the messenger, still trying to catch his breath. “His body’s back by the camp.”
The man in the blue cloak turned violently in his saddle, startling his horse. “Dead?” he hissed at one of the other riders. “So where exactly is the girl, Montrose?”
The second rider didn’t respond at first, but pulled a wooden pipe from the pocket of his long brown greatcoat, casually filling it with tobacco. A wide-brimmed hat cast a dark shadow over his face, almost obscuring the long scar that ran down through his right eye, covered over by a black patch. His good eye, rising above the dark stubble on his face, was a sharp gray color. A large double-bowed crossbow, fitted to hold and fire two separate bolts, was hanging from the saddle next to him. Hanging from the other side of his saddle was an iron mace, the head of which had been molded to resemble a clenched fist. Without a word he calmly lit his pipe, and gave it a few preliminary puffs. The other horsemen looked at him expectantly.
“Well?” said the man in the blue cloak again. “What exactly do you want me to tell his Lordship?”
The man called Montrose pulled the pipe away from his mouth, and stared down at the trail. “You can tell him that we’ve run into an unexpected delay, but that he’ll have the girl by the time he specified.” He stuck the pipe back in his mouth, and then gave his horse a sharp kick, moving forward on the path.
“That’s it?” The first man’s face was beginning to turn various shades of red. “That’s it!?”
Montrose stared down at the path, then glanced at the forest to the left of the trail.
The first man swung his horse around, his fingers clenching the harness tightly. “You told me Nedric could handle himself. You said that we would have the girl tonight.” He spread his hands, gesturing around them mockingly. “Well? Here we are, your man’s dead, and the girl’s nowhere to be found.”
The other men remained silent, but several of their hands moved towards their weapons. They were dressed like their leader, in mud-spattered greatcoats and cloaks.
Montrose blew a wreath of smoke in the air, and tapped out some of the cinders from the pipe, which fluttered towards the ground before fading into nothingness. “Obviously I was wrong about Nedric,” he said quietly. “Still, we couldn’t keep the girl with us. They would have found her, and we’d all be hanged by now.” He stared quietly at the rocky outcropping in front of them.
“Well, the Guard have her now,” spat the first man bitterly.
Montrose shook his head. “I don’t think so.” He pointed with the end of his pipe to the trail behind him. “Those tracks there. One man, with a donkey or mule of some kind. He was shot at here,” he pointed to a nearby tree where the bark was shattered by a musket ball, “and ducked off the trail there.” He replaced the pipe in his mouth, and took another puff, the tobacco glowing dully.
“How do you know he wasn’t one of them?” persisted the first man.
A soft chuckle filled the chilly air. “One man? Leading a donkey? I hardly think that would be an effective rescue party. If he was one of the Guard you can bet a dozen others would have been with him, and they would have been riding chargers.” He blew a soft cloud of smoke into the air, where it hung for a moment, drifting lazily apart. “More than likely some local hunter or trapper came down the trail here. Nedric may have been seen, or maybe he panicked, or maybe he just thought he had an easy kil
l and decided to indulge in a little banditry.” He smiled bitterly. “In any case he must have been here, watching the trail, instead of in camp, watching the girl. A couple shots were exchanged, and he got the worst of it.”
“And so did we! Now the girl’s gone, along with this hunter or whoever he is.”
The sunlight was beginning to fade, causing the shadows to lengthen across the trail. Montrose turned his horse around to face the men behind him. “Yes, and where exactly are they going to go?” He cocked his head. “The Outpost? Let them try. These footprints are fresh. They can’t have left here more than twelve hours ago. They have one donkey, and we’re all mounted.”
“What if they turn around?”
Montrose grinned evilly. “Backtrack? Then they run into us. Besides, there’s nothing behind us for days in any direction. No, they’ll head for the Outpost all right. I’d bet my last copper on it.”
The man’s face curled into a sneer. “And what if they give you the slip? Move off the trail and into the woods?”
Montrose’s face darkened. His horse took a step closer, so that he was only two feet away from the man in the blue cloak.
The first man swallowed hard, his eyes showing the first sign of fear.
“Now you listen to me, because I’m only going to say this once,” said Montrose in a low voice. “Out here, you’re on my turf. And I don’t need any prissy aristocrat telling me how to do my job. Am I making myself clear?”
The man swallowed again. He licked his lips nervously. “Yes,” he finally managed.
Montrose smiled. “Good. Because if you insult me again, I’ll bash your head in, regardless of what your boss is paying me. Understand?”
The man’s face turned pale. He glanced anxiously behind him, only to see the hostile eyes of the other riders staring back at him. He turned back to Montrose, and briefly nodded his head.
“Good,” said Montrose. He leaned back in his saddle, and took another puff of his pipe. “Now, to answer your question, they won’t go off the trail, because unless this trapper is a complete idiot, he’ll know that two people wandering alone in the Howling Woods will be wolf-meat by dawn. And unless they’ve got carrier pigeons, they have no way of communicating with anyone. So as of right now, we’re the only ones who know where they are, and where they’re heading.” He snapped his fingers, which caused the man in the blue cloak to jump involuntarily. “Regvar, Derik!”
Two of the horsemen separated from the others, and rode up to his side.
“Get to the Outpost. There’ll be precious little moonlight tonight, so don’t gallop, or you’ll throw one of the horse’s legs. Go at a good trot. You should make it to the post before dawn. Lie low, watch who comes in and out. If you see the girl, you watch her, make sure she doesn’t leave, and wait for me, understand?”
The two riders nodded, both smiling cruelly at the young nobleman, who was still visibly shaken.
“Good. The rest of us will camp here tonight, and at first dawn tomorrow we’ll follow the tracks. If they do go off the trail, or bypass the Outpost, I’ll send Queltin for you. And no funny business,” he added, glowering at the two riders. “You get to the Outpost, and you hold tight. No women, and no drinking. If you do, by Eru, I’ll skin you both alive. Got it?”
The two nodded, then raced off into the gathering darkness. The sounds of their horses’ hooves faded into the night.
Montrose sighed. “We’ll make camp here tonight. Uther, Harold, take care of Nedric, will you? See that he gets a proper burial.”
The two other riders nodded, and then led their mounts off the trail, disappearing into the undergrowth.
Night was growing all around them. The man in the blue cloak cleared his throat nervously. “I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “I didn’t mean to offend you. Of course you are the best, that’s why you were hired for the job. I’m just a little jumpy, you understand? There weren’t supposed to be any hitches.”
Montrose blew a small smoke ring that drifted quietly through the air. “No plan is free of hitches,” he said. “We’ll have the girl by tomorrow night. No later.”
The other man straightened the lace around his sleeves. “What about this mysterious companion of hers?”
“Well,” said Montrose with a strange glint in his eye. “I think he probably knows a little too much by now, don’t you?”
The man nodded slowly. “I see,” he said, his voice still a bit unsteady.
The one-eyed bounty hunter smiled. “Don’t worry, my friend. I’ll make sure he doesn’t tell anyone.”
With a soft chuckle, he gave his horse a sharp kick and disappeared off the trail.