Artemis Awakening (16 page)

Adara’s mount was a smoky roan named Tarnish after how her coat darkened from silver along her rump and barrel to thundercloud grey along her neck, mane, and tail. Tarnish’s face was ornamented with a blaze that widened as it flowed down from below her forelock to above her nostrils. Her independent temper was good for a horse who must carry Adara, for the huntress had a tendency to slip off her mount in order to scout, leaving the horse to take care of herself.

The final member of the herd was the stout liver chestnut called Block who carried Bruin. Block’s basic sturdiness concealed a sharp temper. Indeed, Griffin rapidly learned that stolid-seeming Block was more likely to snap or kick than flashy Midnight.

“All showing,” Terrell commented, “as Helena likes to say, that appearances are a lousy way to judge horseflesh.”

The road to Blue Meadow was one wagon wide, the deep ruts in the dirt testifying to generations of traffic. Once they were a day out from Shepherd’s Call, the road was hardly more than an indication of the direction in which they should travel. When there was rain—as there was almost daily—the dirt became mud. That meant that every night the horse’s hooves needed cleaning. Griffin squared his shoulders and asked Terrell to teach him what was necessary.

And here I am,
he thought, as he gently eased dirt from the frog of Molly’s foot,
who has been called one of the rising historians of my age, acting as junior groom and camp keeper.

Although Griffin was aware of the irony, he was not unhappy. His plans had included a long stay on Artemis—or at least in orbit—while he did his initial research. In the course of his life, Griffin had learned that focusing on an immediate goal was better than brooding over an uncontrollable future. Right now, that goal was gaining the trust of allies who would help him. He could sense that his willingness to work had earned him the others’ respect. And, unlike a “real” groom, Griffin comforted himself with the hope his future held something more.

*   *   *

They were midway to Blue Meadow when they came upon a man hung against the trunk of a roadside hickory. Sand Shadow, who was advance scout, found him first and reported to Adara.

“He’s alive,” Adara said as they urged their mounts to greater speed, “but unconscious. Sand Shadow says the man’s scent is familiar, although she doesn’t know why. She also smells dogs.”

When they drew close to where Sand Shadow waited, Bruin spoke. “That’s Fred! He’s the one who was supposed to bring young Kipper to me. Seems I was right to worry.”

Griffin leapt off Molly and hurried to hold Fred steady while Terrell slashed through the ropes that dug into the man’s flesh. Fred had been tied so tightly against the tree’s bark that his struggles had rubbed raw patches in his exposed skin. He had the sort of wiry, knobbly build that, at best, would never have held much flesh. Now he was positively gaunt. When Griffin eased him down, Fred moaned in pain.

Adara had been casting around for signs of what had happened.

“There’s been too much rain for me to tell for certain,” she stated, “but I’m guessing Fred was attacked when he’d stopped for the night. I’ve camped here myself. It’s a common stop along the road between Blue Meadow and Shepherd’s Call. There’s not much sign left of the people who did this, but the indications are that they went south—not that that takes much thought. The road only goes two ways.”

Terrell was kindling a fire in the stone ring that was—at least to Griffin’s way of seeing things—the only indication that anyone had ever camped here before. Griffin led the horses off the road, then removed his bedroll from behind Molly’s saddle.

Bruin had been easing water between Fred’s lips. Then he spread brawny arms and carried the semiconscious man over to where Griffin had spread the bedroll next to the newly kindled fire.

“Smart thinking,” Bruin grunted. Griffin was embarrassed by how good that brief praise felt. “We’ll need more water.”

Griffin fetched water from a nearby stream while Terrell and Bruin carefully removed Fred’s tattered clothing. Adara had vanished, along with both Sand Shadow and Honeychild.

Adara reappeared not too long after. “Found the trail. Wasn’t easy. If the ground hadn’t been so wet and if I hadn’t had Sand Shadow and Honeychild to help, I’m not sure even I could have located which way the attackers went.”

“Not good,” Bruin said, “but not as much of a surprise as I would wish.”

Terrell added. “Where are the demiurges?”

“Following the trail farther,” Adara replied. “Honeychild wanted to nose out whatever was there in case it rains again and washes out the remaining scent. Sand Shadow stayed to protect her. How’s Fred?”

Bruin answered. “Dehydrated. He’ll be hungry when he stops hurting. Nasty bump on his head, another under his jaw. Otherwise, he wasn’t hurt.”

Griffin offered, “How about I make broth from the leftovers of this morning’s rabbit?”

“Good thought,” Bruin said.

When Griffin headed for the cooking gear and leftover food, he found Terrell ahead of him, unstrapping various bundles from Sam the Mule’s back.

“You know how to cook broth on a fire?” Terrell asked, as he handed Griffin the pack containing the cooking gear.

Griffin gave a half-smile. “I wouldn’t have before my hike down the mountains with Adara.”

“Ah…”

There was no question that they would camp, even though many hours of daylight remained. Adara vanished again. Terrell settled the horses and Sam the Mule, then began putting up the tents.

Adara returned as Terrell was pounding in the last tent peg, dragging behind her a very large, extremely bedraggled dog.

“Saw the prints,” she explained as she tied her prize to tree where it could see Fred. “This one and at least one other were with Fred. This fellow has a hurt paw, so I was able to catch up to him. His partner may be skulking behind.”

Once it realized it couldn’t break free, the dog alternated between growling at the strangers and whining anxiously in Fred’s direction.

“Toss the dog some bread,” Bruin said to Griffin. “We’ll ignore him for a while. Once he sees we’re not harming Fred, he’ll calm down.”

The dog accepted the bread. Then, growling softly, he settled as close as he could get to his unconscious master.

By evening, Fred had come around enough to relate in small fragments, with many breaks between, what had happened.

He’d traveled with a trade caravan as far as Blue Meadow. After assuring himself that there were no rumors of bandit activity, Fred had felt safe continuing to Shepherd’s Call on his own. That Kipper had been as excited about going to Bruin as he’d been apprehensive about staying in town had been the deciding factor.

They’d traded for fresh horses in Blue Meadow and so had made good time. All seemed well right up until the moment Fred had been awakened by the sound of one of his dogs barking. The dogs might have been fine guards, but they were no match for what came into the little camp.

“Told the hounds to scram, I did,” Fred explained, his voice little more than a creaky rasp. “No need for them to get hurt. Then I got hit, first on the gut, then here.”

He motioned toward his jaw. “Went out. Next thing, I was on that tree. Dogs came back, but they can’t undo knots. Horses were gone. Kid was gone. I’d given up hope just about.”

Terrell asked. “Did you know any of them? Hear them say anything?”

“Nope. Heard the kid screaming. I can’t say for sure, but I think they didn’t kill me outright because if they had he’d never have accepted them. They’ll want him to think they’re not so bad.”

“Not so bad?” Griffin was incredulous. “After they beat you up, stole your property, and kidnaped him? They actually think they can come across as anything but scoundrels?”

Adara spoke for Fred. “They can and for good reason. Kipper’s family didn’t want him. From what Fred says, Kipper was placing a lot of hope in Bruin. All they’ve got to do is convince him that they’re a better choice. Believe me, it won’t be that hard.”

Griffin remembered how Adara had spoken of her parents, of the division Bruin had indicated existed between the adapted and the unadapted.

“So you think these kidnappers are adapted? That they stole Kipper because he’s adapted?”

Adara nodded. “I’d go further and say that at least one of those who attacked Fred has trained as a hunter. They were too good at hiding their trail for it to be luck. Honeychild has a bear’s nose and is trained for tracking, but even she lost the trail—and nothing so simple as crossing a stream would be enough to do stop her.”

“I’ll make the next guess,” Terrell offered. “I’d say that they knew Bruin would be on their trail—Bruin and you, Adara. If they had taken the boy before Blue Meadow, then perhaps not, but where else could Fred have been taking Kipper?”

The two hunters nodded agreement. Griffin thought that some sort of modesty had kept them from saying as much themselves.

“None of this means,” Bruin said, “that we will not try to find them and reclaim Kipper. The boy was entrusted to me. His parents may not have known what to do with him, but they did not abandon him. They found him a teacher. I owe them as much as I owe their son.”

Interlude: Between Waking and Sleeping

I know you by your scent, your taste.

Scion sprig slipped beneath my bark.

Without you, part of me, forever fruitless.

With you, expanding potential.

With you, eternal bondage.

9

Hunting of the Fish

Griffin insisted on joining them in their search for Kipper.

“Are you sure, Griffin?” Adara asked when they had a moment’s privacy. “The Old One at Spirit Bay may have answers to your questions. Terrell can get you there.”

Griffin didn’t even raise his gaze from the tubers he was peeling. “The day I stop caring about the fate of a kidnapped child is the day I deserve to be stuck planetside. Count me in.”

Fred’s second dog came back that night. When the pair were cleaned up, they proved to be brown and white dogs of no particular breed. They had long noses, sturdy legs useful for traveling, and broad chests that meant they were probably strong fighters.

The dogs were not adapted, no more than was their master, but that didn’t mean they were useless. Fred called them Scout and Shout, and was obviously very fond of them.

Although Griffin’s participation was accepted, Fred’s raised some argument. Given how weak the man was, the wisest thing would have been to take him either to Blue Meadow or Shepherd’s Call. Fred would have none of this.

“Kipper was my charge, as much or more than Bruin’s,” he stated with a stubborn set to his lips. “I’m coming with you.”

So Fred rode with them, sometimes on Tarnish, for Adara often went on foot to better read the trail, sometimes behind either Adara or Terrell. Adara privately thought that Fred would be useful when they needed to leave the horses and gear. Griffin had learned a lot, but there were so many things he didn’t know.

Although the kidnappers had shown tremendous skill in hiding their trail, in Bruin they were up against someone who had been teaching both the arts of hiding and of finding trails for so long that the only new tricks in the book were those he had written himself.

Moreover, in Honeychild, Bruin had a perfect partner. Bears in general possessed a keen sense of smell—so much so that they were often called “noses on legs.” In her years with Bruin, Honeychild had refined her use of that sense. Where a wild bear might be able to smell the odors of a garbage heap from as far as two miles distant, Honeychild not only could smell the heap, but analyze what she smelled and pass that information on to Bruin. “It isn’t as if they weren’t careful,” Bruin said, when he informed the rest that he had found the trail. “From what Honeychild has gathered, they have been very careful. They have circled back into the foothills, away from the major waterways where they might be seen by trappers or hunters. However, there is only so far one can go in hiding the scent of a large community. Humans, horses, and dogs are all quite smelly in their own ways. Add in the piquant note of scents that shouldn’t be part of the mix—there are at least three bobcats—and we have our group.”

They were seated around a small campfire in their latest camp when Bruin made his announcement. Griffin Dane turned from where he had been cleaning some herbage that would be stuffed into the grouse that were the centerpiece of tonight’s dinner.

“But can’t the same be said for us?” he asked. “Three men, a woman, two dogs, four horses, a mule, a bear, and a puma.”

Bruin nodded. “The same can be said, but we have a few advantages. For one, we are a smaller group. For another, we have a bear with us. Honeychild has not scented a bear with the others. Also, they are settled. Their scent hovers like a fog over their residence.”

Adara leaned forward. “What do we do when we get there, Bruin? Do we try to steal the boy back or do we confront them?”

Bruin replied, “At first, I’d thought to simply steal the boy back. I’m not as flexible as I once was, but I’d bet you and Sand Shadow could pull it off. Now, though … I have a hankering to learn who these people are and why they think they can get away with stealing the ward of Bruin the Hunter.”

“I agree,” Terrell said. “We’ve circled several days beyond Blue Meadow and farther even from Shepherd’s Call, but not so far that a cocky raider might not consider either town or village fair game. We need to make sure they’re not a threat.”

“I’d been thinking something like that,” Bruin agreed. “I’m guessing that we’re after a group that made things too hot for themselves somewhere else. They fled and once they fled, they cast around for empty lands. Even in the days of the seegnur, these mountains were not heavily populated. Now…”

His shrug was eloquent.

“So we all go in,” Fred said querulously. “Don’t think I didn’t guess that you planned on leaving me back with the horses. I’ve got ears.”