The Lost Son Page 2

  Dannymere turned to regard the dwarves behind him. They had found a pile of wooden stakes and hammered some of them into the ground so they could tether their mounts. The dwarves passed along the necessary equipment and the friends followed suit before the merchant came along to assign the chores. A party of three had already gone to collect firewood, for they all knew the temperature would drop at night.

  Borin and Dannymere were given the task of tending to the horses which meant removing the saddles; rubbing the animals down with dried grass and checking their hooves for stones.

  Borin worked alongside a freckly, red-headed man named Rolphus, who also came from Ige. The two found they had much in common and passed the time talking about their younger years.

  Borin was surprised to hear that Rolphus had trained as a carpenter under the watchful eye of Finius Fine who was famous for furnishing the castles of noblemen, and he had worked as his loyal assistant for ten years.

  “I once made a wardrobe for the Lord of Avenna,” Rolphus beamed, for that was by far his greatest accomplishment, “and I hear it stands in his bed chamber to this very day!”

  “The Lord of Avenna- fancy that!” Dannymere said, clearly impressed.

  “So how does a talented carpenter find himself travelling the open road to earn a crust?” Borin wanted to know.

  “When Finius died, the workshop was left to his eldest son. He was a nasty piece of work and he couldn’t care less about the business, let alone me! The greedy scoundrel sold off our best tools to line his pockets. Without the tools, I couldn’t meet my orders and he used that as an excuse to slash my pay. It was a good time to move on and try something new.”

  The grassy clearing was a hive of activity for the next hour or so and by the time the group was ready to stand down, twin crescent moons were visible in the sky. The wagons had been manoeuvred into a rough semi-circle formation opposite the trees. Although there had been little trouble on the roads since the introduction of sheriffs, the merchant was not about to change his well-established habits. Positioning the wagons in this way made an excellent line of defence, should the group be attacked from the open road.

  Borin and Rolphus had just sat down when a sudden cry of alarm emanated from the woods. The mercenaries were on their feet in a shot and weapons were drawn in readiness.

  They waited expectantly until a single figure broke through the undergrowth, his face pale and his clothing dishevelled where bushes and branches had snatched at them. The man was one of their own and some of those who had leapt up, visibly relaxed as they recognised him.

  “Callum, what’s wrong?” Bardolph asked. Callum was out of breath and he couldn’t speak at first. He took a moment to recover then he searched every face around the camp. When he failed to find what he was looking for, he slumped miserably to his knees.

  “Callum- look at me! Where are the other men?” Bardolph was growing insistent and the note of urgency in his voice finally provoked a response from the young man.

  “I don’t know- I don’t know where they are! We were collecting sticks. Jed had so many that he kept dropping them so Fulk said we should turn back. I was walking in front and the others were behind me. Then I looked around and they were gone!”

  “Gone?”

  “Yes- gone! At first, I thought they were fooling about. Gods above! I was even laughing!”

  “And then?” prompted an impatient young man, wielding a fierce-looking dagger.

  “And then nothing- they never came back! There’s no sign of them anywhere and there’s no sign of the firewood either.”

  “Fulk and Jed! They’re the men who took me to meet Dromak,” Dannymere hissed to Borin, who looked grim.

  “That’s impossible!” Vascos rumbled. “Men don’t just vanish into thin air. Someone or something must have taken them!”

  There was a brief moment of silence and then all was sound and movement: Bardolph was helping the poor man to his feet and bombarding him with more questions; the dwarves were swinging their hammers in wide, menacing arcs; others were fanning out, intent on searching the area and the merchant was rushing in to find out the reason for the sudden commotion.

  Once his right-hand man had brought him up to speed, the merchant climbed on a wagon and struck a metal pan with a ladle. “I don’t know what’s happened to Fulk and Jed,” he began when he had their full attention, “but I don’t want anyone running off to play the hero tonight. The light is fading and in less than half an hour it will be completely dark. There are too many clouds for us to rely on the moons. We have to sit tight and hope that our men find their way back to us.”

  “But what if they’re in danger?” Callum demanded.

  “From what? There’s nothing out there.”

  “You don’t know that!”

  “Man and beast make noise,” Dromak argued.

  “Still, if you’d let me take some men and candles-”

  The merchant shook his head firmly. “It’s been dry for weeks. One stray spark could set the whole place alight.”

  “What are you saying- you want us to do nothing but hide out here like a bunch of cowards?” someone in the assembled crowd dared to shout.

  “We’re not cowards,” the merchant assured him, “but we’re not rushing off and leaving this cargo to the mercy of brigands either! We’ll double the watch and have a proper look around at first light.”

  “The morning might be too late!” protested a burly man with a moustache who seemed keen to flex his muscles and prove his metal.

  “Listen up and listen good!” Dromak demanded. “This is the most valuable cargo I’ve carried in years and you’re being paid handsomely to guard it. Now I’ve made my views plain enough. If you still decide to go against my wishes, I will treat it as a dereliction of duty and withhold your wage.”

  Bardolph cursed quietly under his breath. Dromak had- and not for the first time in their long acquaintance- resorted to strong arm tactics to ensure the compliance of his men. As usual it was down to him to salvage the situation so he climbed up on the wagon, ready to speak. “We don’t know where Fulk and Jed have gone. Perhaps they did lose their way in the woods and if that’s the case, they will find their own way back. They are experienced mercenaries and they can look after themselves until morning light.”

  “And if they’ve been taken?” Callum asked.

  “If they’ve been taken, then we have to assume it was to lure us away from the cargo. It’s been done in the past.”

  “No-one has pulled a stunt like that since the Treaty of Enna,” called out a fighter with long, grey hair and there was a general murmuring of agreement.

  Bardolph held up his hand for silence. “Thieves are sneaky and while sheriffs may reduce their numbers, they will never stamp them out completely. They still operate, away from the long arm of the law.”

  “That’s true!” shouted Vascos. “Thieves will always try their luck if the prize is rich enough.”

  “My name is known the Kingdom over and my client list is no secret. We’re only a day into our journey so we could have been followed,” Dromak said, calmer now.

  “And we’re not going to fall for such an obvious ploy, are we?” Bardolph asked pointedly.

  “No,” chorused some of the men in unison and there was embarrassed shuffling in the crowd from those who had previously wanted to take action.

  “We’ll stay vigilant. We’ll double the watch, like Dromak said, and take rest while we can. Sleep with your weapons handy and be ready to search at first light.” Bardolph was an experienced fighter, widely known for his brains as well as brawn. His words struck a chord with many of the mercenaries and this, coupled with the oppressive darkness that engulfed the camp minutes later, seemed to put an end to the debate.

  The mood was sombre as the men ate cold fare for supper and spread their bedrolls over the hard ground. Continued speculation about the missing men eventually gave way to sleep as the mercenaries accepted the need to rest ahead of another gru
elling day in the saddle.

  Borin and Dannymere formed part of the first watch. They positioned themselves at the rear of the camp, furthest away from the wagons and very close to the dense undergrowth that bordered the clearing. They squatted on the haunches side-on so that they could regularly check the cargo and watch their backs. Both men hoped that if anything should pass their way, it would be the two missing men stumbling back to camp, and nothing more sinister.

  A slight breeze had picked up since nightfall and the rustling of leaves seemed loud to their heightened senses. The friends had worked as mercenaries long enough to know the importance of silence and vigilance on the night watch. From time to time, they rose to their feet and soundlessly stretched their limbs before returning to their positions, low to the ground.

  The hoot of a distant owl reverberated around the clearing and the half-elf shivered. Fulk and Jed had shown him kindness and he wished he could repay them but this was dark, unfamiliar terrain. As the merchant had predicted, the twin moons were, for the most part, veiled by dense cloud cover. When one or other of them managed to break free, it bathed the camp in a temporary silver glow. Across the camp, the distant snoring of mercenaries and the gentle nickering of horses at rest helped to soothe the anxieties of those on the perimeter.

  Two hours passed without incident then the subtle double-clicking of fingers indicated the approach of a friend and change of watch. The men stood and carefully negotiated their way back to the inner circle of the camp to find their vacant bedrolls. Dannymere’s mind was still reeling and he doubted he would sleep. Within moments of closing his eyes, however, he was out like a candle adrift on the tide.

  When Dannymere woke up the next morning, eight mercenaries had already gone to search for the missing men and the half-elf cursed himself for not waking sooner.

  On the other side of the camp, food was already being distributed by a gangly-looking boy who was hanging from the back of a wagon. The boy kept disappearing inside then reappearing with his hands full of wooden bowls, precariously balanced on top of each other. Dannymere decided to let Borin sleep a little while longer and, in the meantime, he would fetch breakfast for them both.

  “Hello there,” Dannymere greeted the boy. “It might be easier if you brought the porridge pot out here and then the men could help themselves.”

  “Oh. I didn’t think of that,” the lad admitted, running a nervous hand through his brown hair and smearing it with porridge. “I’m new. I mean, it’s my first job as a general hand. The porridge pot is rather heavy. I’m not sure I could-”

  “- Let me help you,” Dannymere interjected, and between the two of them, they managed to set it down on the grass. The boy returned with a stack of bowls and spoons and watched in satisfaction as the mercenaries took matters into their own hands.

  “I’m Albin,” said the boy.

  “Dannymere,” replied the half-elf, shaking his hand. It was covered in porridge and left a sticky residue on his palm. He was wiping his hands on his trousers when some of the dwarves appeared.

  “Hey! Where’s the porridge gone?” Vascos asked suddenly and Albin peered over the rim of the empty pot in disappointment.

  “Gone already?” Dannymere chuckled. “Well that’s the downside of letting them loose on it, I suppose. You’d better make some more or you’ll have a riot on your hands!”

  “Aye that’s the truth!” said Vascos, swinging his axe and he roared with laughter as the terrified boy disappeared back inside the wagon.

  Borin woke up and squinted across at his friend’s abandoned bedroll. His blue eyes were especially sensitive to the early morning light and it was a couple of minutes before he could open them wide. He looked around and saw Dannymere with Vascos, waiting outside the wagon for breakfast. Borin clambered to his feet, shaking loose leaves and twigs from his clothing. His limbs were stiff so he did twenty fast jumping jacks and press-ups to get his blood pumping. The exercise also made his mind more alert and he sensed, rather than saw, the approach of a fellow mercenary.

  “It’s quiet here this morning. I guess the search party has left already,” he remarked casually as he shook out his bedroll. “I do hope they find the missing men.”

  “Oh there’s little chance of that,” countered a cool and distinctly female voice.

  Borin wheeled around in surprise but the speaker was already gone; striding across the camp. He noted that she wore a full-length, black cloak with the hood pulled up over her head. He had not seen her face. Borin felt uneasy. It was rare but not totally unheard of for women to train as fighters and he was open-minded enough to accept her place in the team. No, he was agitated for an entirely different reason: his powers of observation were normally second to none and it unnerved him to think he had not noticed her sooner.

  Chapter 3

  A Lack of Trust

  “A woman in the camp? I don’t believe you,” Dannymere managed through a mouthful of sticky porridge. It was not particularly tasty but the portion was generous and he knew it would sustain him until mid-morning.

  “I’m telling you, there is!” Borin insisted.

  “Then where was she yesterday and why haven’t I seen her?”

  “Maybe she was riding up front.”

  “Was she pretty?”

  Borin rolled his eyes. “I didn’t see her face.”

  “How do you know it was a woman if you didn’t see her face? Nah- I think you were dreaming, my friend. There’s no way a woman would have escaped my attention.”

  “She stood right where you’re sat now and she spoke to me.”

  “So what did she say?”

  “Something about not expecting the missing men to be found,” Borin shrugged. “I can’t remember exactly- I’d just woken up.”

  “Or maybe you hadn’t woken up and you were dreaming!”

  Borin grunted in frustration and aimed a playful punch at his friend’s arm. “Go and see for yourself if you won’t take my word for it. She’ll be around somewhere and she’s wearing a black cloak,” he added, scraping up the last bits of porridge.

  The companions were returning their bowls to Albin, the general hand, when the search party reappeared on the edge of the clearing.

  “There’s nothing and nobody out there,” one of the men explained.

  “There’s no blood or signs of a struggle,” added a second man.

  “We’ve looked everywhere,” Callum confirmed, “but it was as quiet as a morgue.”

  Albin shuddered and dropped his pile of wooden bowls on the ground. The sound clattered and echoed around the clearing and the boy blushed fiercely. “S-s-sorry,” he stammered when the mercenaries all turned to look at him. “Missing men make me nervous.”

  Dannymere helped him to pick up the bowls. “You’re not the only one,” he said gravely.

  Callum saw Bardolph approaching at top speed and quickly filled him in. “What should we do next?” he asked when he had finished.

  Bardolph did not have the answer so he went to fetch the merchant, who was busy checking his stock. The mercenaries heard the merchant ranting and raving before they saw him and when Dromak arrived in front of the assembled crew, there was no doubting his mood. “There’s no point looking for them,” he sneered. “They’re long gone. And so are my rubies- the thieving scoundrels!”

  Cailum’s jaw dropped open, for he had held his companions in high regard. “They wouldn’t-” he began but the merchant was not listening.

  “They would and they have! No wonder they were as keen as mustard to collect the firewood. It gave them the perfect chance to escape!” Dromak bellowed. “Those rubies were sized and cut for the King of Elms-haven! They were commissioned for his son’s crown! What am I supposed to do now?”

  Bardolph laid a supportive hand on his shoulder. “Perhaps the King could choose something else. We’ve got some fine amethysts and sea-pearls.”

  Dromak shook his head. “No. He wanted twelve identical rubies for the prince’s crown- one to r
epresent each of the Kingdom Lords. Don’t you see- it’s virtually impossible to get a set of stones so close in composition and size. I don’t know what I’m going to do now.”

  “But why does it have to be rubies?” Callum asked.

  Dromak sighed with impatience. “It’s symbolism, Callum. Rubies are red like blood. The twelve rubies are supposed to be a promise between the twelve rulers not to spill each other’s blood. It’s about peace-keeping. With his son taking the throne at such a young age, he wants to get the other Lords on-side.”

  “So the elves are waiting for the rubies and we can’t deliver them,” Bardolph concluded.

  The miserable merchant threw his hands up in the air. “What a mess! The King has already dispatched a team to meet me at Desea. The coronation is less than five months away.”

  The full weight of the situation began to dawn on the mercenaries. Many bowed their heads in respect, and some because they dared not meet the merchant’s eye.

  Dromak sighed and rubbed his hands across his face. “This is a right royal disaster but I have other orders to meet besides. Pack everything up- we leave at once.”

  Borin and Dannymere turned and hurried to saddle their horses; all talk of the mysterious woman fighter forgotten in light of this strange turn of events.

  “What do you make of it?” Dannymere asked Borin later, when the two of them were alone. “Do you think Fulk and Jed really stole the rubies?”

  “Suppose they must have. I can’t think of any other explanation, can you?”

  “They just didn’t seem the type to do something like that.”

  “Dannymere, you only spoke to them for five minutes!”

  The half-elf pouted. “I know. I’m just surprised that’s all.”

  The mercenaries spent the day riding towards Warnon. The road was straight and even so they could canter often and cover more ground. The cargo was not particularly heavy and the wagons bounced lightly over the road as the mules responded to the demands of the drivers.