The man gritted his teeth as Claude lowered his large body to the ground and leaned against the mud wall. The guard pulled a cigarette pack from his pocket and put one of the white sticks in his mouth.
“There’s no time for that,” the man spat at him.
Claude appraised him with cold eyes, then took the cigarette from his mouth and slid it back in the pack with the others.
The agent snorted and turned away to follow the single set of footprints going off into the bush. He’d noticed right away that the tracks were from feet too big for the younger children. There are some scuffs, though. Maybe the kids went this way and then that girl had wiped out their tracks. And then didn’t erase her own? Would she be that sloppy? She knew what was at stake and, so far, she’d been quite clever.
She’s tired, he reasoned. And it was possible she hadn’t known her pursuers were so close. Maybe they’d caught her by surprise and she didn’t have time to wipe out her own footprints. Or she was leading them astray while the brats escaped in another direction.
He followed the tracks into the bush. The trail was unchanged, except for – he stopped abruptly. What was that, glittering in the morning light? A filament of spun gold? A glistening spider web? It was strung chest-high, from one bush to another, right across the girl’s tracks.
“It’s a hair,” said Claude, looking over his shoulder.
“It can’t be. Who would it come from?”
“The pony? Maybe it’s a palomino or something.”
The agent leaned close to the strand. Was it the pony’s hair? It seemed too fine, like a strand of flaxen silk. And he’d never seen a horse with a mane or tail that colour. Palomino manes and tails were white, not gold.
With a puzzled expression, he poked at the filament with the machete. A warm tingle buzzed against his hand. He jerked away with a gasp and glanced back, embarrassed that Claude had heard his surprise. The shame didn’t last. When he saw Claude’s face twist in held-back laughter, his own face hardened. He turned to grab the golden thread between his thumb and forefinger.
But it was gone! He stared at the branches it had been caught on, at first thinking he must not be seeing it because it was so fine. There was no sign of the filament on the ground either.
So it was magic! Another trick played on them by that girl. But the magic wasn’t strong and as the girl got farther from them, she was less able to maintain her illusions. That had to be why the strand disappeared.
“Uh, Boss,” Claude spoke hesitantly behind him. “There’s another one.”
The man focused ahead. Sure enough, there was another. A puzzled look swept over his face. What was she trying to accomplish? Was she trying to scare them off? Or was she luring them along? He strode toward the second filament, but when he reached it, a sharp birdcall came from his right – and when he looked back, it too was gone.
A jolt of fear invaded him when he noticed another glimmering thread, just a few yards ahead.
Slowly, he backed away. He didn’t know what the girl was trying to do, but there was one way to find out. They would go back to the hut and look for more tracks. If they found them, and if there were more than one set of footprints, they would follow them. If there weren’t any other tracks, they would come back and follow these, despite the magical threads.
He spun around, almost driving the machete blade into Claude’s leg. “We’ll separate and go in widening circles around the hut,” he instructed the guard as they walked. “See if there’s another set of tracks. If she’s trying to lure us in the wrong direction, we’ll find out when we do the circles.”
As soon as they reached the hut, Claude pulled his cigarette pack out again.
“Not now!” barked the agent. He snatched the guard’s matches and flung them into the bushes.
Claude glared at him for a moment, then stalked to the left without a word, his massive shoulders stiff with resentment.
My plan did not work, but the fear I saw in the man’s eyes has given me another idea. I will leave the magical hairs across the children’s real trail. If the restavec agent truly is afraid, he will turn back again.
They do not know I exist yet, and that gives me an advantage as well. In fact, I believe they think Giselle is doing this – and we may be able to use that against them too, later on, if I cannot turn them back now.
“Over here, Boss!” Claude’s yell burst through the quiet like a bull’s bellow.
The man made his way to the guard’s side in seconds. When he saw the trail, he was impressed that Claude had even noticed it. He wouldn’t have expected the big man to know that the subtle scuffs in the dirt were the children’s trail. Claude wasn’t known for his brains.
The head agent examined the tracks. Five or six children had passed this way. And there were hoof prints. The rest of the children must be riding the pony. “Let’s go,” he muttered and strode along the trail.
Claude waited a few moments before following.
Giselle’s legs burned as she climbed up, up, up, pulling Jon and Paris along with her. They’d been climbing one slope after another as they walked, and she was almost ready to drop. Every movement needed energy she didn’t have. But still, she somehow took another step. And another. And then another.
It didn’t help that they weren’t following a trail either. It took far more energy to walk through the bush – but it would also make them harder to track if the men turned around. At the top of the incline, Paris collapsed on the ground. Then Jon was down too, breathing hard.
“We have to keep going,” Giselle said, though she was glad to stop as well, if only for a moment. “I know you’re tired, but we can’t give up. If they found our trail, they’ll be gaining on us.” If only she had some water for them. But she had nothing left to give, not even the energy to pull them to their feet.
“We’ll take turns riding and walking,” Giselle said, and then added in the firmest voice she could muster, “We can’t stop. Come on, Paris. Get up.”
With the promise of a ride on the pony’s back, both Paris and Jon staggered to their feet. Paul and Giselle lifted Amelie, Robert, and Tyla from Domi’s back and put Paris and Jon in their place, and the group trudged onward once more.
The agent came to a quick halt. “Look. On that branch.” He pointed.
Claude moved closer and squinted. “It’s another hair.” He reached past the man to take it in his fingers. “Hey! It’s gone! What the…” He blinked a couple of times. “It was there, wasn’t it? It weren’t my imagination?”
The agent shook his head. Claude was so thick-headed. Hadn’t he noticed the other filaments had disappeared too? But maybe the guard’s intelligence, or rather lack of intelligence, was an opportunity. The agent didn’t want to go blundering through the golden filaments himself, just in case they were enchanted. But if Claude went first, he could clear the cursed fibres out of their way and collect the bad magic onto himself.
“I think they’re spider webs that the sunlight makes look gold,” he said. “And that they break easy, that’s all.”
“Sure. That’s it,” said Claude, but he didn’t sound very convinced.
The agent stepped back. “I’ve been tracking them this whole time while you’ve just been lazing along behind. The trail’s easy to follow now, so I’m taking a break. You go first.” He pushed the guard forward. “Hurry up. I’ll be right behind you.”
This new ploy helped the children gain only a short distance. I must think of another plan. There must be something I can use.
I know. The large man is leading them now, and maybe he is not as good a tracker. Maybe he can be misled from the children’s true path.
A few minutes later, Paul found a faint animal trail and started to follow it. At first, Giselle wondered if she should question his decision – she wasn’t sure that following a trail, no matter how unused it might appear, was a good idea. If they were being followed, they’d now be far easier to track. But on the other hand, the children were hardly mo
ving anymore. Maybe anything that helped them walk faster would be good.
I’ll keep a better lookout. As long as we have enough warning, we’ll be okay, she decided. She gazed back when they reached the top of yet another small rise. As far as she could see, the mountainside was deserted. There was no movement anywhere. Did that mean Angelica had succeeded? Had she led the men astray?
Or had she been caught?
The man cringed inwardly as Claude approached each golden strand. He made sure to keep well back, just in case something happened. There was no doubt in the agent’s mind that the filaments were enchanted, and he almost pitied the big oaf of a guard. The bad magic Claude was collecting could be huge. But better the guard than himself.
Claude bent down to inspect the earth, and then straightened. “They went this way for sure,” he grunted and strode ahead. The agent hunkered down to look at the ground. Yes, there were tracks, but they were hard to read. He could see one larger footprint, but the rest were unrecognizable after being stepped on by the guard’s big, bumbling feet.
Soon he would take the lead again – but not until he was sure no more strange golden threads blocked their path. Others might laugh at how superstitious he was, but he knew both bizarre and evil omens existed in the world. Sometimes it was hard to tell which phenomenon could hurt you and which was merely strange, and he preferred not to take chances.
He smirked. Apparently Claude, in his simple innocence, was not as suspicious. Or more likely, he was just plain stupid. Either way, at least Claude was finally being useful.
At first Giselle felt only a strange, undefined niggling in her mind. Then, despite being exhausted, she jumped when a bird’s high call rang around her. Yet it still wasn’t until she saw a flicker of movement from behind a cluster of bushes that she realized something was watching them.
She froze, and her eyes raked the leafy branches. She couldn’t see anything now. Should she approach? What if something jumped out at her? It couldn’t possibly be the men, but what if it was another predator – or a zombie? Giselle was helpless to stop the idea from leaping into her mind again. Zombies were her greatest fear. The thought of them just seemed so horrible: ordinary people who’d died and been buried, then raised in the dead of night to walk again. The image of them staggering jerkily and untiringly on and on, doing whatever hideous things crossed their lifeless minds, sent revulsion and fear spinning through her body.
But what if there was someone who needed her behind the bushes, like a frightened, injured animal? Or another child? She lobbed a stone into the undergrowth and heard only the rock hitting the ground.
Slowly Giselle crept forward a few yards. She stopped when she could see inside the thicket. Thank goodness, there was nothing there. She moved her gaze over the mountainside. Heat shimmered below, and she could hear the bird again, but there was no other sign of life. And the feeling of being watched was gone.
It was probably a wild burro or a goat, she decided.
“Zellie?” The voice was quietly desperate.
Giselle spun around to see her brother slump to the ground. “Paul, stop!” Giselle rushed to Robert’s side.
Her brother looked up at her with dark, forlorn eyes. “I’m sorry, Zellie,” he said. “I can’t walk no more.”
“Sure you can,” said Giselle gently, and she lifted him to his feet. He fell against her, his small body quaking with exhaustion. She looked up to see three more of the children on the ground.
“Okay, you can sit for a minute, Robert,” she relented and helped him down, then walked toward the head of the line. She patted Domi on the way. The pony’s drooping head and splayed ears showed how worn-out he was as well. He needed a break as much as the children did.
“Maybe we should rest for a while,” she said to Paul. She cast her gaze about, and then pointed up the hillside to a narrow, dark opening. “In that cave.” She was surprised at how confident she sounded. “You take the children up there and I’ll erase your tracks, leave a false trail, and double back. I’ll look for water too. We’re going to need some more soon.”
Paul nodded, too tired to speak, and climbed through the bushes toward the cave opening. Giselle lifted Jon and Paris from Domi’s back, and then hurried back to Robert. “Just follow Paul,” she said. “He’ll take you someplace you can rest for a while. Domi and I will be back soon.”
“Okay, Zellie,” Robert said and struggled to his feet. He was the last in line, and Giselle almost cried as she watched him labour up the short slope. The poor little guy! Why did life have to be so hard for him – for all of them? Paul stopped just short of the cave mouth and helped the smaller children the last few steps. By the time Giselle had found a good sweeping frond, they had all disappeared inside the shady alcove.
Within minutes, the children’s tracks to the cave were obliterated and Giselle and Domi were hurrying along the faint trail. She felt more energetic than she had all morning, walking alone with the pony. “How are you doing, Domi?” she said to the little gray. He nickered in response. He seemed to have revived a bit as well, now free of his load of children.
They traversed the trail for some time before Giselle saw the perfect place to mislead their pursuers – a rockslide stretching from the bluff above, over the trail, and down the mountainside. It was the ideal place to double back. The men would know the children hadn’t gone past the slide, but they wouldn’t be able to track them on the rocks, and it would take them time to check both up and down the mountain. It was even possible they might never find where Giselle and Domi left the slide, as she planned to sweep their tracks away. Carefully, she led the way up into the jumbled rocks.
Sweat poured down her face as she climbed. Domi found the footing difficult, and they had to go slowly. The sun beat down mercilessly, unobstructed by branches or bushes, and soaked into the stones around them, making heat rise from beneath them as well. Now, even more than a rest, Giselle longed for a drink of water. She was getting so thirsty!
Halfway up the slide, Giselle led Domi off the rocks. She left him in the shade, grazing, and went back to sweep away their tracks. It took longer than she thought. Hoof prints were harder to sweep away than children’s footprints. However, by the time she got back to the grove of trees, she was confident no one could tell where they’d left the slide.
“It’s done, buddy,” she said to the pony when she reached his side. Domi whinnied softly as Giselle laid her head on his bony withers. She felt like she could almost fall asleep right there, leaning on her friend. Except – she tensed. Something, or someone, was watching them again.
Still leaning on Domi, Giselle narrowed her eyes to a sliver. Everything became instantly blurry. It was a trick she’d learned in watching for her aunt’s approach. She would appear unaware, as if she was resting or sleeping, and yet would easily see movement. Her eyes ranged slowly back and forth along the slit between her eyelids. And something moved! Her eyes popped open.
A face stared back at her from between two branches! A woman! Before Giselle could gasp in astonishment, the woman had disappeared.
For a moment, Giselle was frozen in shock, but then their need unloosed her tongue. “Help us,” she called out. “Don’t go. We need help!” There was no response. “Please, don’t go!” She caught a sob before it escaped from her throat. “Please,” she said, and then her voice dropped to a whisper. “Don’t go.”
It was no use. The woman was gone. She and Domi were alone once again.
The agent could barely endure the pace. Claude was so slow, lumbering along like an ox. And the golden filaments didn’t seem to be bothering him. Maybe it was safe to take the lead again. If he were in front again, they’d go much faster.
Claude stopped abruptly and bent over the tracks.
The man looked ahead. He couldn’t see any magical threads. “Get out of my way,” he commanded, unable to wait any longer. The guard let him by, and the agent strode along the obvious trail.
He’d only gone a few yards
when something began to bother him. He bent to examine the footprints more closely. There were plenty of them, both full and partial footprints. So what was wrong? The answer came quickly. They were too uniform in size, as if the same two feet had made them all. And there was no sign of the pony’s tracks.
Another wave of rage flowed over him. The girl had tricked them again! No, not him. Claude!
He spun around, shoved the surprised guard out of the way, and stalked back the way they’d come. They walked in stony silence until the agent couldn’t hold in his anger any longer. He let loose a string of curses. Claude was an idiot! A stupid oaf! Allowing himself to be misled by a girl! How could he be so dense? So dimwitted?
At first, Claude followed meekly, looking sheepishly at the ground. The man didn’t notice. Nor did he notice when the guard’s face became thoughtful. Or when Claude’s hands clenched into fists. Completely unaware, he strode back the way they’d come, abusive words falling behind him like leaves in autumn.
Giselle led Domi back toward the cave along a natural ledge that ran along the base of the cliff. She listened for water falling, hoping to hear some tumbling over rocks or gurgling down below, but there was nothing.
When she reached the cave, she paused. It looked different than she remembered. Hadn’t the entrance been narrower? She walked inside to find an empty chamber.
It’s a different cave, Giselle realized. She inhaled deeply. She should continue on – but the coolness in the cave felt so refreshing. She relaxed against the rock wall, revelling in the chill air on her overheated skin.
A soft whinny came from outside, and then the sound of a hoof striking stone. Giselle rallied herself. “I’m coming, Domi,” she said. “You’re right. We need to get going.” Reluctantly, she stepped back into the hot afternoon and kissed the pony on his forehead.
Slave Child (Horse Guardian) Page 7