Dangerous Territory

by Lindsay Schopfer

  Feeling eyes upon him, Keltin glanced up to see Wendi watching him from across the table. To his surprise she didn’t immediately turn away, but gave him a friendly, encouraging smile. He did his best to return the smile, wondering how Elaine might react to his melancholy. He smiled in earnest at the thought. She would likely tell him that worrying wouldn’t help, and that since he was doing all he could, he should take heart and enjoy the moment. With a resolve to do just that, he turned to Ross and asked how the training of Kuff was progressing, soon finding himself in a good-natured comparison of successful beast hunts that continued on throughout the dinner, past dessert, and well into the night.

  * * *

  The celebration petered out eventually as the men went back to their bunkhouse, no doubt to enjoy private stores of spirits that Yull would not allow them to imbibe while in the farmhouse. Keltin was grateful that Yull had volunteered his men to help with the washing up afterwards, leaving little work left for those who had spent so much time preparing for the event. As the last of the workers placed the final plate in the cabinet, the foreman drew aside Keltin and Ross into the parlor.

  “Well, I suppose I won’t be seeing either of you again. I’m heading down south with most of the lads, and I understand both of you are headed elsewhere.”

  Keltin shot Ross a curious look, as he had assumed that the hunter would head south with Yull and the others. He had no chance to ask for clarification though as the foreman continued.

  “I just wanted to say one last time how grateful I am to you both. I know most of the men might not say such out loud, but I know that every mother’s son of them was grateful to have you around. Thank you.”

  Ross shook his hand.

  “It was good to be protecting the farms of Krendaria again,” he said. “Even if it was for foreign owners this time.”

  Yull nodded and shook Keltin’s hand.

  “I don’t know where you’re headed after this, Mr. Moore, but I wish you luck and safe travels wherever you’re bound.”

  “I appreciate that. Take care, Yull.”

  The foreman left, leaving the farmhouse pleasantly silent after the frenzied din of the celebration. Harper and Wendi entered the parlor and everyone agreed again on the quality of the food. Keltin yawned and turned to Harper.

  “Well,” he said, “I suppose we’d better turn in. We’ve got an early start ahead of us.”

  “Yes...” said Harper, giving Ross a questioning look.

  “What is it?” asked Keltin.

  Ross blew out his cheeks, looked at Wendi, then turned to Keltin.

  “We’d like to go with you. All of us.”

  “No,” said Keltin. “Absolutely not. This is isn’t your problem. I’m willing to let Harper come with me because he has his own reasons for wanting to get into Malpin. But you two have no reason to come along, and it’s just too dangerous.”

  “But Mr. Harper agrees that having a woman along may help if we need to come up with some sort of cover story,” said Wendi.

  Harper shrugged.

  “I did say that. But I also said that it was up to Keltin, and that I wasn’t in favor of putting Wendi in any danger.”

  “I’m not eager to do that either,” said Ross.

  “But you said that you would like to help Mr. Moore if you could,” said Wendi.

  “I did say that.”

  “And I did help Mr. Moore with that beast, even if it scared me.”

  “It would have scared me too,” put in Harper. “Nobody here doubts your courage.”

  Ross turned to Keltin. “The truth is, I have no other plans for the time being, and neither does Wendi. Beyond that, we both consider you a friend, and we both feel there’s a debt that needs repaying for you coming to Wendi’s aid against the armored leech. Let us at least travel with you to the border. If it looks too dangerous for all of us to continue on, then we’ll stay behind and allow you and Harper to go on without us. We can wait on the Krendaria side for you and help you all travel the rest of the way from here. If nothing else, you can enjoy Wendi’s cooking for a little longer.”

  Keltin looked to Harper, who gave him a slight nod. He took a breath, then turned to Ross and Wendi.

  “All right. We’ll all go north, at least to the border. From there, we’ll see what happens.”

  Wendi surprised Keltin by grinning and clapping her hands.

  “Thank you, Mr. Moore! Don’t worry. We’ll help you rescue your friend and her family. You’ll see.”

  Keltin returned the girl’s brave smile and hoped that she was right.

  * * *

  The North Road ran through the fields and cultivated forests of Dhalma province. It was a fairly well-maintained dirt track winding its way through the steadily thicker woods of the north country. Keltin had crossed the road dozens of times over the course of his patrols of the territory, but he had never seen any other travelers on it. He’d always assumed it was because of the seasonal incursion of beasts, but now he wondered if perhaps Krendaria’s unfriendly northern neighbor might also have something to do with it. After two days of traveling without encountering another soul, it seemed as if the closing of Malpin’s borders had cut off whatever small traffic there might have been at this time of year.

  For their part, Keltin’s companions had mostly kept their peace during the journey, making the best of two nights of wet camps in the steadily falling rain of a late Krendarian autumn. Keltin was grateful to find that Wendi, while not as experienced on the road as Keltin or the others, was a nonetheless stalwart traveling companion. By the second night, he was gratefully accepting a steaming mug of sweet broth from her as she put the finishing touches on a small pot of potato stew. He had to admit that she reminded him a great deal of Elaine for her determination to make the best of a difficult situation.

  “I suppose we’ll reach Wellos in the morning,” he said once the stew had been dished out. He turned to Harper. “I was thinking we’d learn what we could there before deciding how to attempt our crossing.”

  “That seems sound,” agreed the newspaperman. “I doubt we’d be able to bluff our way past the border station itself, though it’s worth looking into, if only to possibly save ourselves a dip in the Bent Knee River.”

  “I’ll let you and Wendi focus on gathering information in town. Meanwhile, I think it’d be best if Ross and I scout out the southern riverbank to either side of Wellos and try to find somewhere we could possibly cross it. We’ll scout about a day’s journey in each direction, then meet up again in Wellos to discuss our options.”

  Wendi shuddered. “I hope that we’ll be able to get across at the border station. Even if it isn’t frosting, it’s going to be awfully cold to have to ford the Bent Knee.”

  “We may not have to get our feet wet,” said Keltin. “There’s plenty of timber. We could build a raft and ferry ourselves across if we find a calm enough section.”

  “However we do it, have you considered where we’ll go once we’re across?” asked Harper. “I’m not sure if it’s wise to make straight for civilization once we get across the border. The Malpinion border guard is sure to be at its thickest in the towns closest to Krendaria.”

  “Destov said that he was going to send his family to Carris. I think we should go directly there, and bypass any other towns along the way. No point in taking too many chances out in public.”

  “Do you know where in Carris they are supposed to be?”

  “No. They’ll likely be in hiding. All he said was that I should seek out the Brothers of Kerrtow somewhere in the city.”

  “Hmm,” Harper stroked his moustache thoughtfully. “It’s good news for them if they’ve managed to connect with the Brothers, but with no contact information it will make our job much harder.”

  “Why is that?” asked Wendi. “Who are the Brothers of Kerrtow?”

  “They’re an underground organization dedicated to supporting the displaced and disenfranchised Loopi from the capital city and surrounding co
untryside. From what I’ve heard, they do everything from expediting Loopi emigration to stealing Loopi holy relics from state-owned museums to smuggle out of the country.”

  “Can they be trusted?” asked Keltin.

  Harper shrugged. “I think so. I know that they have no love for the Vaughs or the MLP. I suspect the hardest part will be getting them to trust us. I’m sure that they’re tight with secrecy and fearful of infiltration.”

  “It’s a shame that your paper doesn’t maintain a foreign correspondent in Malpin,” said Ross. “We might have gotten some help from them.”

  “Oh we do, but he’s up in Kerrtow. Besides, even if he could put us in contact with the Brothers, there’s no telling that the cell we meet would have any direct connection with the one helping the Destovs. There’s just no way of knowing how organized they really are, since that’s one of their most carefully guarded secrets.”

  “Well, we’re going to have to find them somehow,” said Keltin.

  “You worry about getting us across the border and to Carris,” said Harper. “I’m very good at ferreting out information. I’ll find them.”

  Keltin nodded and prayed silently that the newspaperman was as good as he thought he was.

  * * *

  Wellos was the sort of town that seemed to exist primarily as a place to pass through rather than stop and stay for any reason. There was a modest inn, a pub, and post office, as well as a store or two to keep the local people supplied with their daily needs. Keltin sat with his companions at a corner table in the town pub, watching the other patrons while Ross fetched their food. Keltin had wondered if he might find more Malpinion refugees in Wellos than they had seen on the road. He’d imagined bedraggled, desperate people clutching what few belongings they could carry as they tried to decide where they would go to restart their lives. But the pub was practically empty, and besides himself and his companions everyone there seemed to be a local. He wondered if it was a sign of the efficiency of the border guard and considered how that might affect their chances of bluffing their way northward.

  Ross’ footsteps echoed in the eerily quiet room. He set down their plates with a clatter before taking a seat and resuming his report of the Bent Knee River stretching off to the east.

  “It never got less than twenty feet across,” he said in a low tone, “though the current was slow enough. The forest has grown up pretty densely along the banks, but there’s a likely-looking bend with some gravely shores that might suit us, if we wanted to try to raft across.”

  “That’s better than I found,” said Keltin. “Less than a mile from the border station the banks got rocky and the water got fast. There were a number of small drops, and even some rapids in places. If we want to find a place to cross, it won’t be to the west, at least, not within a day’s travel.” Keltin turned to Harper. “What were you able to learn in town?”

  The newspaperman shook his head. “Everything’s dried up around here. The town’s lifeblood was traffic to and from Malpin, such as it was. It sounds like travelers were becoming scarce before the formal closure of the borders, with new restrictions coming almost every week. That tells me that we can’t expect a hastily mustered border guard scrambling to cover themselves. This has been some time coming, and it’s likely that the men at the station have already seen dozens of attempts to bluff through customs.”

  “Sounds like our best option is to go east. We’ll need to make a stop at a local general store for some extra supplies.”

  “What do we need?”

  “Extra rope for raft lashings. We’ll also want a good-sized saw to cut some sturdy saplings to make it out of. We may also—”

  Keltin fell silent at the sound of the tinkling bell above the pub’s front door. Turning, he was surprised to see Bol, the Heterack sleevak wrangler along with several of his companions. Harper immediately leaned over and whispered to Keltin.

  “We’ll need to go over and say hello,” he said. “It will seem odd if we don’t.”

  “How do we explain our being north together?” asked Keltin, keeping his eyes on the broad-shouldered hunters as they made their orders at the bar. “They know that we’re both from Riltvin.”

  “I’m reporting on the border closure. I hired you to guard me along the way.”

  Keltin didn’t have time to question the story as the Heteracks turned from the bar and entered the taproom. Bol immediately noticed them, and left his companions as Keltin and Harper both rose to their feet to meet him halfway.

  “Mr. Moore,” said the Heterack in a polite greeting. “I hadn’t expected to see you this far north after the end of the season.”

  “Harper wanted to write a story on the border closing. I agreed to make a little extra money keeping him safe on the road.”

  The Heterack nodded. “It’s still a dangerous place, to be sure, though I doubt he would have needed more than one abled beast hunter to keep him safe.”

  He nodded slightly to indicate Ross, Wendi, and Kuff seated behind them. Keltin was just registering the need for another lie when Harper filled the silence without a misstep. “Oh, we were just accompanying our friends back to their home in the north-western corner of the country. We were planning on parting ways here, and were just having our last meal together.”

  “Ah, I see,” said Bol without a hint of incredulity. Keltin was suddenly very grateful that Harper was with him. The Heterack turned back to Keltin.

  “How did you fair for the rest of the season? We didn’t see anything of you after your single visit.”

  “I tried to keep my distance from your territory,” said Keltin. “I didn’t want to have any unfortunate run-ins with your sleevaks.” He paused a moment, then decided to try being courteous. “I hope they made it through the season in good health?”

  “They did, though one got into a bad roll with a quilled terror. It took a triple dose of drugged meat to knock it out enough to get all the quills out. We were lucky though. One of the quills came dangerously close to an eye. Too deep, and even a single quill could reach the brain and kill the boil deader than stone.”

  The clink of tankards signaled that the Heteracks’ order had arrived, and Bol gave Keltin and Harper brief, firm handshakes in parting.

  “I’ll wish you both luck on the road then. We’re returning home to Olsivo first thing in the morning.”

  “You don’t anticipate any problems crossing the border?” asked Harper.

  “Not really. We’ve got the proper visas and work exceptions. When you’re in the business of hauling dangerous cargo around the countryside, you get used to having all the necessary paperwork at all times.”

  Keltin and Harper bid the Heterack goodbye and returned to their table. Unwilling to continue their earlier conversation with the Heteracks nearby, Keltin and his friends fell to eating silently. As Keltin ate, a nagging thought occurred to him. This was an opportunity to put something behind him. After a moment, he stood, gave a reassuring look to his curious companions, then went to the Heteracks’ table. Bol looked up at him as he approached.

  “Yes, Mr. Moore? Was there something else that you needed?”

  “I was hoping to have a word with you. Alone, if you don’t mind.”

  Bol gave him a curious look, but shrugged.

  “All right. I was going to go check on the sleevaks soon anyway. Come along with me.”

  Keltin followed the Heterack outside and around the back of the pub to find two wagons with the caged sleevaks securely lashed down in the back.

  “Are you worried about leaving your wagons unattended?” asked Keltin.

  “Not really. Who would bother a pack of sleevaks, even caged ones?”

  “Fair enough.”

  Keltin hesitated, trying to put voice to his uncertain thoughts. Bol watched him a moment before speaking again.

  “So what was it you wanted to say, Mr. Moore?”

  “I... I wanted to apologize. I didn’t think very well of you when we first met. You see, Last year
when I came to Krendaria to participate in the campaign, I met some other Heterack sleevak wranglers from Malpin. They were bullies, and worse, careless with their creatures. One day, they released their sleevaks too close to my team of hunters as well as a gang of field workers. We had to kill three of the beasts to protect ourselves.”

  Bol grimaced and spat. “I don’t have any patience for wranglers like that. These creatures are dangerous, and should be handled carefully. What part of Malpin were they from?”

  “Olsivo, like you.”

  “Do you remember any of their names?”

  “Their captain was named Rok.”

  “I knew him. Not well, but by reputation. A runny carrion feeder from what I heard. Haven’t seen him around for... well, since the campaign.”

  “A tusked giant took him.”

  “Good.”

  Keltin nodded, pushing aside the unpleasant image of Captain Rok to focus again on Bol.

  “Well, I just wanted to say that it was wrong of me to assume that you were the same sort of hunters, just because of what you are and where you’re from. I’m sorry.”

  Bol extended a large muscular hand to shake Keltin’s.

  “I’ll accept that, as long as you remember that not all of my people are worthy of contempt and fear, especially with conditions as they are.”

  “You don’t agree with what’s happening in Malpin?”

  “I’m not a politician. I’m a hunter. Speaking of which, I need to see to these creatures. Good luck to you, Mr. Moore, wherever you go.”

  “Thank you, Bol, and you as well.”

  Keltin left the Heterack and went back inside to his friends, wondering how many more of the common people of Malpin felt just the same as Bol, the sleevak wrangler from Olsivo.