Grace of the Goddess (The Death Dealer Book 3) (23 page)

              She hadn’t looked up at the sky from the tunnel during the daytime in years. She smiled as the sun’s light streaked through the trees and warmed her face even in the well. She was also pleased to see her own pack unmolested.

              “What’s this?” Tristan bent down to pick it up.

              “It’s mine!” she snapped and grabbed it quickly.

              Tristan backed away, holding up his free hand in surrender. “No need to get so defensive. Why do you have a pack down here?”

              Grace put the torch out against the stones of the well and cradled the pack close to her breast. It contained black pants, a black shirt, and a black hood. She dared not let Tristan see it and think she was guilty of trying to harm Drake, so she swung the pack over her shoulder and started to climb, the extinguished torch between her teeth. She was glad she no longer had her leather jerkin, otherwise the pack would have been too heavy to carry.

              Grace climbed out of the well, making room for Tristan to come up after her. She unslung her pack and put the torch inside before putting it back on.

              “I sometimes like to wander the woods without anyone knowing. Now may we get on with this?” Grace began to tap her foot impatiently.

              “A moment, please.” Tristan knelt in the dirt near the well and examined the ground closely, moving an inch here or there. “Four men and a woman went west, toward the shore, on foot.”

              Grace stopped tapping her foot and took a moment to look at the ground around the well. There was a muddle of footprints, but she could see clearly that they led westward.

              “You’re a tracker! You don’t need my help in navigating the woods. Now why don’t you tell me why I am
really
here and what is going on?”

              “Your uncle would not let me go out alone, and now he trusts only you among the ranks of the guards.” Tristan started off down the path their query had taken.

              Grace stopped him, grabbing hold of his pack and tugging him backwards. “Why did Drake
really
want to leave the castle grounds?”

              “That is none of your concern.” Tristan pulled away and began to walk again.

              Grace jogged in front of him, walking backwards so she was ever in his path. “You and Drake have put my family in grave danger and I want the truth! I know Leon did not tell me everything.”

              “You did not want to join us.”

              “No, but since I seem to be stuck in this quagmire regardless, I need to know how to get out for my own survival.”

              Tristan stopped and looked Grace over. Her hair was knotted into a loose bun and she wore a long black coat over a white linen shirt and navy trousers. Her pants were tucked into the boots, and everything was dirty from a morning spent in the dirt and muck of the training yard. She didn’t know what Tristan made of this, but at least he couldn’t brush her off because she didn’t fit his idea of a warrior or a lady.

              “Katherine, Drake, and I all received letters yesterday. They were signed ‘DD’ and stated the attempt on Drake was only the beginning. We shared them with Leon, and he showed us the tunnel in the stables should the need to flee arise. He cautioned us all to keep quiet and act as though nothing was wrong. I do not know if Drake and Katherine wanted to hunt for the Dealer on their own or if they received more notes that coaxed them from the grounds. All I know is that this morning they were gone, as well as three of Drake’s personal guards. I aim to find them and bring them all back unscathed, if I can.” Tristan touched the hilt of his sword absentmindedly. “Leon thought I could use your sword arm if things went ill.”

              “My uncle did not receive a letter?”

              “If he did, he chose not to tell us. Now may we move on? I have told you all I know.”

              “I am no tracker. You lead on and I will act as rearguard.”

~*~*~

              The day wore on. Tristan led the way, following the tracks for a few miles outside of the castle. Distantly they heard the shouts of the lumberjacks as they worked, but with each passing minute the trail led away from the lumber camp. Tristan stopped suddenly when they were near three miles away from the well.

              “One moment.” Tristan bent down to examine the ground. “One set of footprints leads north, while the rest continue west.” He straightened and looked down both paths.

              Grace wandered off, finding sticks and stones to craft a trail sign that pointed north. “Three cottages and the main road to the castle lie this way, if we keep on for about three miles. The wanderer may have gone to them for help.”

              Tristan trotted to take the lead again while Grace kept her eyes open, looking behind them. Occasionally she stopped to listen, but she heard only the birds and wind blowing through the trees.

              “There was a fight here,” Tristan called from further up the trail.

              Grace ran to his side and saw what he spoke of. Two people had fought, sometimes falling in the dirt.

              “I do not know where the other person came from. There is no sign of a second set of footprints until this spot, and none lead back.”

              “Someone of experience can hide their tracks.”

              “But the trail goes cold here.” Tristan walked a wide circle around the area. “They did not just vanish.”

              Grace noticed an unnatural pile of leaves at the base of a pine, and she unsheathed her sword and pointed the tip at it. “Pines do not shed their needles in the fall. These were brought here.” The pile was filled with vibrant yellows and oranges; colors seen on oaks, not the massive evergreens.

              Tristan moved closer to the pile, but he did nothing to uncover what was underneath. “What if it is Drake?” he asked, turning to her. Grace never thought she’d see fear in the knight’s eye, but his malice was swept away. His eyes were large, unblinking, and he bit his lower lip worriedly; his face drained of all color.

She couldn’t blame him, as her heart pounded like a war drum. “If it
is
him, then we will have to ask ourselves a great many questions and hope for king’s mercy at having the heir die on our watch.”
              “Must you be so callous? Drake is my friend.” Tristan looked at the leaves. “
Was
my friend…?”
              “I am not being callous, I am being realistic. There will not be much time to mourn, and there are others in the party that went on. We are merely delaying the inevitable. Look in the pile – perhaps it is nothing more than discarded supplies that were supposed to be hidden.” She said it, but couldn’t quite bring herself to believe it.

              Tristan pulled away a clump of leaves to reveal a face in them. Someone had skewered out both eyes and only empty sockets remained. Dried, reddish-brown blood was caked on the rest of the face. Grace turned away, not wanting to see what else had been done to the poor man. She only knew it wasn’t Drake.

              “Did you know him?” she asked, turning her back to the scene. She was horrified to see a body so mutilated. What sort of monster dared to desecrate a corpse?

              “Somewhat. His name was Timothy. He was a decent fighter and loved drink, women, and song. He was loyal to Drake, and often served as his personal guard when we went on dangerous hunts.”
              “I am sorry he had to meet an end like this.” Her heart swelled with grief over the waste of the guard’s life, and in the distance she heard a wolf howl.
Diggery
, she thought.
Was this your blood path?
              “What do we do with him?” Tristan asked, more to the open air than to her.

              Grace dared a look and saw that Tristan had mercifully put the leaves back over Timothy’s face. His head was bent and he moved slowly. “We don’t have time to give him a proper burial,” Grace said softly. “Perhaps we should leave some trail signs? Then we can come and retrieve the body later.”

              “And let wild animals scavenge what is left of him?” Tristan answered angrily.

              “I do not
want
to leave him here, but Drake and Katherine and the others may still be alive, and someone dangerous is hounding their steps. We can see to it that this man is given full honors in death, but we have our quarry to find, Tristan.”

              She walked over and knelt beside him, putting a hand on his back. Tristan didn’t pull away, but she felt him shaking with rage under his coat. “Avenge him. Take your anger and turn it against the person who desecrated his body. But do not sit here wasting time.” Grace felt heartless as she spoke, but over their bent heads the sun continued its march westward. The days were shorter now, which meant the light wouldn’t last too many more hours.

Tristan got back to his feet. “Make your trail signs and we’ll pick the other trail back up,” he instructed as he stalked back the way they had come.

                                                                                    ~*~*~
              Grace and Tristan continued on the path, and two more times a single person deviated from the rest. Both times they uncovered the body of another guard. Brendan first, and then Julius. Brendan was hidden under a pile of leaves the same as Timothy had been. His face was unmarred, but his chest had a gaping wound. Julius was found in an old wolf pit that hunters from Arganis used the previous winter, impaled on the sharpened sticks at the bottom of the pit. Each time they found a body, they heard the eerie howl of a wolf in the distance.

              Tristan stopped them as the sun began to set. Digging through his pack he produced two flasks, one with wine and one with water, two apples, and a package of dried meat. Grace didn’t feel much like eating after finding the bodies of Drake’s guards, but her energy waned from running through the woods all afternoon.

              “Should we light the torch when it gets too dark to see?” Tristan asked through bites of his apple.
              Grace chewed a bit of meat slowly. It was too salty for her taste, but it was better than nothing. She washed her mouth out with a drink of water before answering. “I can see well enough in the dark when my eyes adjust to it, and the torch will give us away for sure if our traipsing along hasn’t already.”

“I was thinking the same. I am loath to go forward without it because we may lose the trail, but I don’t want to risk bringing harm to Katherine and Drake with our carelessness.”

              Grace thought about changing into her Death Dealer clothes to blend in with the blackness of night, but she wasn’t sure how she would escape Tristan’s notice. He was wary of her pack until she pulled out a third flask and a few more apples for them. He was wholly uninterested in it now.
              After their brief meal they picked the trail back up, the sun setting ahead of them. Twilight crept in quickly, and when it became too dangerous to move on, Tristan halted them. He begged pardon to relieve himself some yards off and Grace wandered in the opposite direction to do the same.
              The sounds of night swirled around Grace. She didn’t like moving forward with no light, but she didn’t like calling attention to their location either. Drake’s guards didn’t just trip and die; someone mercilessly killed them. Grace belted her pants into position, and when she turned to head back, saw Tristan had lit the torch. She scowled into the darkness, wishing he had waited, and then it dawned on her that he would have had to go through her pack in order to find the torch.

              Tristan stood over her pack, holding a black piece of fabric in his hands, and the torch was stuck into the ground so both his hands could be free. He looked up at her, regarding her curiously. The shadows hid his eyes from Grace, but she could see he frowned deeply.

              “I didn’t try to hurt Drake and I did
not
kill Duke Brayden,” she blurted out before he could say anything.

              He started, clearly surprised. “I didn’t plan to accuse you when I know you were not involved; I was just thinking back to a curious exchange we had at the king’s tournament.”

              Grace stayed frozen in her spot, afraid of moving any closer to Tristan. She saw now that his sword was unsheathed and resting by his feet. She moved her hand slowly to her own blade in case she needed it.

              “You were bruised badly from being thrown from your horse, you said, and at the time I thought you had no reason to lie.” He tossed the fabric to her and Grace let it fall to land near her feet. “I should have questioned your story. It certainly would have been a miracle to survive a throw from a horse with no broken bones and your face mostly intact. Then later that same day, you asked Henry if he had ever killed a man. Again, a curious question for a lady to ask, but I thought you were trying to show me you were more than just a pretty face. That night, rumors came in that the Death Dealer had killed someone. I wonder now why I didn’t put any of it together then. Blinded by my own folly, I suppose.”

              Tristan rose to his feet but left his sword where it was. Still, Grace took a few steps back as his body eclipsed the torch light. If she ran she could outrun him, but she would be running blindly. There were more wolf pits in the area and a murderer loose in the woods.