The Lost Son (Kingdom Books Book 1) Read online

  Dromak nodded. “News like this can unsettle even the most experienced mercenaries and I can’t afford to lose any more men.”

  Borin understood the merchant’s concerns. He agreed to keep the news to himself then he listened in silence while the men recounted what they knew.

  Dannymere’s runaway horse had finally been found, over an hour after the incident, roaming around a nearby field. The mercenaries who had tracked him, had found stinging-nettles secreted beneath his saddle.

  “That’s why the horse was rearing,” Dromak explained. “He was desperate to throw his rider and stop the pain. According to Thelon, the nettle that was used is rare. As far as he knows, it only grows on the Isle of Arcan.”

  Bardolph shuddered at the mention of the place for it was widely known as a sinister, solitary heap of rock in the middle of the Sea of Knyves. Many people believed it to be cursed. “Someone has gone to great lengths to do hurt your friend,” he said, “but the question is… why?”

  “Has Dannymere upset anyone?” Dromak pressed and Borin thought carefully.

  “Hugo seemed to have a problem with him dancing last night but that was something and nothing.”

  Dromak and his right-hand man exchanged a look. “You’re not the first person to mention Hugo,” said Bardolph. “I’ve been in this business thirty years and I say he’s no more a mercenary than I’m a serving wench!”

  Borin laughed in spite of himself but the merchant remained serious. “Felis and I go back a long way and if he says his nephew is a mercenary, then I won’t be the one to say otherwise.”

  “You’re the boss,” Bardolph shrugged and he stood to leave.

  “Wait,” Borin said, halting him in his tracks. “There’s something else. The morning after Fulk and Jed went missing, I saw a woman in the camp.”

  “A woman? What did she want?” Bardolph asked but there was little that Borin could tell them.

  “There’s no women in my crew and there never has been,” Dromak confirmed.

  Borin knew that his friend had broken his fair share of hearts in the past but nothing he had seen would warrant retribution as severe as this and he said so.

  “Good,” thundered Dromak, “because if I thought for one minute that any of my men were bringing baggage like that to their work, they’d be out on their ear!”

  Dannymere was resting on a pile of plump cushions when his friend appeared. There was a bandage on his head and he was sipping a heady brew of herbs that Thelon had prescribed to relieve the pain. He looked up and smiled as Borin climbed into the wagon. “What took you so long?” he joked, but his voice was weak.

  “You needed to rest.” Borin sat down and tried, as gently as he was able, to explain what the merchant had discovered since the morning.

  “Someone did it on purpose?” Dannymere was aghast. “Who do you think it was?”

  “We don’t know yet. Dromak’s talking to the men.”

  “Maybe he’s done something to offend the gods,” the half-elf whispered.

  “Who?”

  “Dromak. This job has been doomed from the start. First the rubies and now this.”

  Bardolph appeared at the entrance to the wagon and Dannymere clapped his mouth shut. “How are you feeling?” asked the older man.

  “Sore… and very annoyed.”

  “Then you must be on the mend! I won’t come in. Fendril just wants you to know that you’re discharged from duty for three days on full pay. Jasper is covered in sores but the dwarves have set poultices and he’s tethered to the back markers until he’s ready to be ridden.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Oh and you can have the wagon for a while. Fendril’s going to camp under the stars tonight and spend some quality time with his men.” Bardolph winked and both of them took his meaning: the merchant wanted to keep a close eye on them all.

  Dannymere gave a slight nod, waited until he was alone then exhaled deeply. It was very unnerving to know that someone had it in for you and he wondered for hours afterwards what he possibly could have done to deserve it.

  The sun was high in the sky when they eventually left the clearing. They were so far behind schedule that the afternoon water-stop was cut short and this made the men grumble.

  Dromak spoke to everyone on his team that day but his efforts yielded nothing. Not a single man could recall seeing anything suspicious in or around the camp and they all denied harbouring ill-will towards Dannymere. In fact, most claimed to like him.

  Albin spent the whole day in an anxious state, thinking about the rubies hidden beneath his bedsheets. His hands trembled as he served the men their fare and he stammered when he spoke but his tender age and inexperience explained it all away.

  The wagons kept rolling long after the sun went down. Dromak was adamant that they would make up as much ground as possible and this meant that Borin had to wait even longer to visit his friend.

  By the time the chores were done, most of the men were ready to retire and a cursory peep into Dannymere’s wagon revealed that he was already asleep so Borin tiptoed away and offered to take the first watch instead.

  There was a definite chill in the air that night and the twin moons were outlined by a thin veil of mist that blurred their edges, making them undefined. Borin pulled his cloak around his shoulders and sat against a thick tree trunk which provided good support for his back. He was pleased that the weather in the north was still warm, at least during the day, and that the group of men would continue to outrun winter while they headed that way.

  Borin was looking forward to exploring Desea; a region renowned for its grand buildings and bustling market places. It was a place he had always wanted to visit, not least because of its proximity to Elms-haven, the only Elven territory that constituted a twelfth part of the Kingdom. Of course, elves also lived on the small islands dotted around the Sea of Serenity, but they were autonomous creatures and little was known of them. It was Elms-haven that intrigued him most and, although he had not yet shared his plans with Dannymere, he hoped to travel on to those parts once the wagons had arrived at their destination.

  Borin let his mind wander over the old stories he had heard and wondered if any of them were true. Was there really a waterfall in the heart of Elms-haven which had the power to restore health and could the elves really talk to animals?

  Dannymere had been born in Elms-haven but he rarely spoke of the place. Borin hoped that his friend might accompany him across the border and act as guide, once he was back to full health. Thoughts of Desea and Elms-haven helped to occupy his mind during those lonely hours after midnight when conversation was lacking.

  Borin was nearing the end of his shift when a beam of blue light flashed across the camp. He sprung to his feet and drew his dagger. The light was only visible for a few seconds but even after it had vanished, the rounded patch of colour was still imprinted beneath his eyelids.

  Borin waited. He sensed a strange shift in the air. The breeze dropped, giving the impression that even the plants were holding their breath. He had never felt it before but somehow he knew that there was magic in the camp. Borin advanced slowly. The moons afforded him a clear view of the camp but he knew they highlighted him as a moving target too.

  After a few tense minutes, with his heart beating loudly in his chest, Borin retreated and settled down. He kept scanning the line of trees, hardly daring to blink in case the light came again.

  It was not long before Rolphus came to relieve him and Borin told his new friend all about what he had seen. Rolphus promised to stay alert and to spread the word to the men on the second and third watch.

  When morning came, the blue light from the night before seemed like nothing more than a distant dream. Borin dressed as normal but when he reached for his boots, he found a piece of parchment hidden inside one of them.

  Borin quickly scanned the area to see if anyone was watching him but no-one was looking his way. The mercenaries were going about their early morning business so, with tentative
fingers, he reached out and took the parchment. It was dry beneath his touch and he worried that handling it roughly might make it crumble. He unfolded it as gently as he could and found just one sentence written inside: ‘Stay on your guard’.

  Were those words a warning or a threat? Borin sat back on his haunches and turned the parchment over, checking the underside and the corners, but finding nothing more. He scrutinised the sentence again. The writing was joined and graceful. ‘It was written by a woman,’ he thought and he could not shake the feeling that she was someplace near, watching him. Borin folded the parchment and hid it inside the lining of his dun-coloured bag.

  That evening, as the owls hooted their secret language and the small, nocturnal creatures scurried from place to place, Borin was aware of it all. He could not sleep no matter how hard he tried. The night before, someone had crept right up to him as he slept and the mercenaries on watch had not seen a thing. How was that possible?

  Not for the first time on this trip, he wondered what his best friend had managed to get them into by signing up with Fendril Dromak.

  Chapter 6

  Across the Border

  The next few weeks passed quickly, with no further troubles, and the mercenaries settled into a steady routine. Dannymere’s injuries healed with no long-lasting effects and the accident started to recede in his memory like a boat over the horizon. Only Borin stayed on his guard, watching everyone with a hint of suspicion. He could not forget the anonymous letter that was still hidden in his travel bag.

  The caravan continued to travel north, through Warnon and into Daglin. Vascos and his crew suddenly became the life and soul of the caravan and often regaled the men with tales of their ancestors, as if passing through this land had awoken special memories.

  After another month of travel, the men glimpsed the Ivory Peaks, a vast mountain range on the northern border of Daglin. It was well-known that the mountains were covered with armed guards employed by the Lords of Pimlin and Roshlin Cleve.

  Both Lords were major share-holders in their own region’s trade shipping. Nearly eight years ago, they made it illegal for caravans to pass through the mountains. This meant that merchants travelling north, would have to use the Pimlin and Roshlin shipping companies- which were very expensive.

  This did not make the Lords very popular and many men longed for the day when an heir and successor might see sense and reverse the despicable law. However, with the Lords of Pimlin and Roshlin Cleve stationed so far from the Ivory Peaks, there was ample opportunity to bribe the guards to look the other way.

  Many of the mercenaries had never travelled through the mountains before and their faces were etched with wonderment. Only the dwarves were completely unaffected. As Daglin-dwarves, the sight was nothing new.

  Rolphus gave a low whistle of appreciation and Vascos chuckled, “Ah lad, once you’ve seen one rock, you’ve seen them all!” But although he would not admit it, the old dwarf felt a warm glow of pride that his homeland should cause such a reaction in the minds and hearts of men.

  Further down the line, Albin was hanging off the side of his wagon, craning his neck to get a better view. This was everything he had hoped for when he left home. He marvelled at the mountains, wondering how anyone could be content to spend their life in one place, missing moments like these.

  Behind the curtain, Minkle started to make impatient noises. “Oh come on then,” tutted the boy. “I suppose you can have a quick look – everyone else is doing the same.”

  Minkle’s small mouth turned into a perfect ‘o’ of surprise when he saw the mountains, standing tall like indomitable soldiers and Albin wished he could let him watch longer.

  As the caravan advanced, Borin let his eyes trace the outline of the peaks and he noticed there were dozens of small, stone fortresses built into the rock. They were spaced out at regular intervals, making a haphazard line like a military dot-to-dot.

  “So what do you think?” Vascos said, drawing level with him.

  “Unnerving,” Borin answered truthfully. “It feels like a hundred pairs of eyes are watching us.”

  “Not as many as that,” Vascos reassured him, “and the guards are friendly.”

  “Really?” Dannymere was sceptical.

  “Sure. My cousin works up there.”

  “What does he do all day?” Dannymere asked.

  “Not a lot, to tell you the truth. He sits on his backside and waits for people like us to show up.”

  “Sounds a bit boring to me!”

  “It’s easy money,” Vascos shrugged, “and we dwarves love to be surrounded by rock.”

  The next week involved a lot of uphill travel. The horses plodded on relentlessly and the men were careful to navigate the narrow pathways with care. The wagon drivers were experts in their field and they made a difficult job look easy. Sometimes a mule would stumble and veer a bit too close to the edge, but a few loose stones and pieces of rubble were the only things to fall in the ravine.

  By the second week of mountain travel, the novelty had definitely worn off and some of the men were feeling perpetually tired.

  Felis explained that the air was thinner at this altitude and the men would go back to normal again as soon as they started to descend. “And this is where the gold changes hands,” he added, when they rounded a corner and came face-to-face with a huge, circular citadel. “You’ll be glad to hear that once we’re through, it’s all downhill from here!”

  “How much will it cost to guarantee us safe passage into Lenspar?” Borin asked.

  “Your guess is as good as mine.”

  They watched as the merchant and his right-hand man walked through the portcullis and Dannymere asked, “What do we do now?”

  “Now we wait. It shouldn’t take long; it’s a mere formality.”

  “I didn’t know it would be so easy,” Borin said ruefully. “I heard men were arrested for trying to get through the border…”

  “Only when the Lords of Pimlin and Roshlin Cleve have their scouts out,” Felis said with a wink.

  “See- I told you it would be fine,” Dannymere said smugly and Borin rolled his eyes.

  As the sun went down, the caravan reached the flat pastures on the other side of the Ivory Peaks. This was the first time that Borin or Dannymere had ever set foot in the land of Lenspar; and neither of the men professed to know much about it.

  That evening, some of the mercenaries organised a series of wrestling matches for entertainment. Dromak had voiced his distaste for the game and barked several warnings about broken bones before retiring to his wagon and leaving them to it.

  Dannymere was just a spectator owing to his recent accident, but Borin was keen to have a go. He and Rolphus lined up with the others and they were presented with a fistful of sticks.

  “The man with the shortest stick fights Bryson,” explained Wenden, the man in charge. He hiked a thumb behind him and Rolphus gulped. Bryson was one of the biggest men in the caravan.

  Borin chose a medium-sized stick and he was confident that this was not his match but the carpenter was not so lucky. The stick he pulled barely measured the length of his index finger and he doubted there was a shorter one in the pile.

  “Wish me luck!” said Rolphus as he made his way to makeshift ring at the centre of the camp.

  “You’re going to need more than luck,” Dannymere chortled when he saw the size of Bryson’s bare chest.

  Bryson was surprisingly fast for his size and he caught the carpenter off-guard straight away; taking him down and pinning him to the floor. Rolphus gasped but he was determined not to disappoint the crowd so he wriggled about like an eel until he could break free.

  Bryson was angry with himself for letting Rolphus go so he rushed at him again; but this time the carpenter was ready for him.

  Rolphus dodged to the left and watched as the larger man, propelled by his own momentum, fell face-first into the dirt. Rolphus could not believe his luck! He dived on top of his opponent and worked hard to pin h
is arms to his sides. The adrenaline was coursing round his body and the cheers of the crowd spurred him on.

  Rolphus was just starting to believe that he could win the fight when Bryson gave a loud bellow and thrust his arms out wide, breaking the carpenter’s hold on them. Rolphus was thrown aside and the roles were quickly reversed.

  With Bryson sat on top of him, the carpenter did not have the energy or the inclination to carry on so he submitted with good grace.

  The next few matches involved the dwarves and it was funny to see the tricks they played on each other. Cannol, the youngest and smallest of the dwarves, surprised everyone by beating Vascos, who was so annoyed that he instantly demanded a rematch. Bardolph had to march him away from the ring and pacify him with a mug of ale before he would admit defeat.

  Borin offered himself up for the next bout of wrestling and he was very surprised to see Hugo joining the queue.

  Borin watched the mercenaries pick their sticks and his keen eyes detected a movement that was lost on everyone else. Hugo’s hand had darted in and out of his pocket with the efficiency of a master thief and now he was holding a stick half the size of the one he had drawn from the pile.

  “Hugo is up!” Wenden announced, completely oblivious to the trick.

  Borin did not understand the young man’s behaviour but if Hugo was so determined to wrestle him, then he would let him have his way.

  The two men took their places, face-to-face in the centre of the ring. Borin stood with his legs shoulder-length apart and his dominant right leg at the back, providing a solid base. He waited for the countdown and was surprised when Hugo lunged at his legs before Wenden had even reached one.

  “Hey! That’s not fair!” protested Dannymere from the side-lines, but nobody took any notice.

  Borin quickly arched his back to break his fall. He brought his legs up and planted his feet in the centre of Hugo’s chest. Hugo snarled as the raised feet kept him at bay. Borin sucked in his breath and straightened his legs, sending the young fighter sprawling backwards into the dirt, then he was up on his feet in a flash.