Dark Fate: The Gathering (The Dark Fate Chronicles Book 1) (4 page)

He shook his head. Maybe it was just the pressure of this mission. He had led many expeditions before, but none this high profile. The weeks previous to departure had been grueling, locked up in a room with Basinian aristocrats going over every detail. And etiquette, for Eos’ sake: “Proper this,” and “Proper that…” The whole ordeal made Kinsey feel nauseous. Relocating royalty was a pain that no one should have to suffer.

Kinsey could see Chancellor Tomelen walking amongst the men, gesturing for them to get up and prepare to move out. The goldenhaired nobleman then proceeded to direct where direction wasn’t needed.

Kinsey mumbled to himself, “Or people who
think
they’re royalty, for that matter.”

Moving down the hill to the lip of the ravine, Kinsey stood where he could see the entire group and spoke loud enough for all to hear: “Everybody, listen up!”

Erik took what supplies he needed from his saddlebags as Kinsey’s voice carried over the ravine.
This little detour is going to be tricky
, he thought. The game trail was only a couple of hundred yards from the Wildmen campsite and any excess noise would certainly lead to discovery. He knew the soldiers could handle themselves; it was the nobles, mules, and horses that concerned him. If the animals got scent of the wargs, panic could infect the whole group. The nobles were untested in combat—there was no telling how they might react.

Erik grabbed his horse’s reins and led him slowly to an armored veteran who stood listening intently to Kinsey. “Rouke,” whispered Erik, “a word.”

Rouke turned his head slightly toward Erik to listen but kept his eyes on Kinsey. He was an average-sized man with no truly distinguishable features other than a deep scar above his right brow. His short brown hair and worn clothing gave him the appearance of just about every armsman in the Basinian military. What made Rouke stand apart was reliability. Erik knew if he put the man to a task, that task would be completed.

Erik offered his reins to the stout soldier. “I will take us to the game trail, then give lead over to you. It won’t be hard to follow once you’re on it, the trail is well worn. Just keep heading east and you should be safe as babes in their cradles. I’ll need you to take Camelyard so I can move ahead to keep watch on the Wildmen camp.”

“Aye,” said Rouke. He nodded and took the reins. “Don’t ya worry ’bout Camelyard, I’ll keep good watch over ’im.”

Erik patted Rouke on the shoulder and moved to the head of the caravan to wait for Kinsey’s final commands. Once situated on a large, moss-covered rock, he looked toward his once-ward, now comrade, with a mixture of pride and concern.

Kinsey was truly an odd mix. Humans and dwarves rarely mingled. Not so much because of cultural differences, although there were many, but because of the physical deformities that resulted from such a union. Although, Erik observed, Kinsey had not suffered negatively from these particular abnormalities but had taken on some of the best qualities of each race. His facial features leaned toward human with slight, dwarven exaggerations in his thickened chin and broadened nose. Fiery brown eyes peered out from under heavy brows and rich auburn hair covered his head, upper lip, and chin. Kinsey’s human similarities ended with his five and a half feet of height, while the dwarven part of him dominated his excessive girth. Not to say he was portly by any means; Kinsey was just big. In essence, he looked like a giant dwarf.

Erik grinned at the contradiction that so appropriately described his good friend—his adopted son.

He had taken Kinsey and his surrogate mother as wards over sixty years ago, when Kinsey was but an infant. The courts in Waterfall Citadel had given Erik no explanation as to their previous situation, only that they were without a home and no family to care for them. Not unlike his own situation at one time, Erik sympathized with the pair and gave them a place to call their own. Over time he grew to love the boy and his mother, and eventually took her as his wife and Kinsey as his son. It had been a good life; her passing had been hard on him.

Feeling the pangs of regret, Erik took a deep breath and looked away from Kinsey to the woods beyond. Taking a human wife had never worked out well for Erik. At least, the ending of such relationships had never worked out. This had been his third time to take a human wife, the third time he’d had to bury one, the third time he’d felt the pain of loss. This time, however, he had been given a son. Someone long-lived enough to reminisce with; a luxury he had been without for nearly two centuries.

Kinsey struggled with his mother’s passing as much as Erik. A deep sorrow had taken hold of his son. The sorrow in and of itself wasn’t the problem; the remedy Kinsey chose to break free of the sadness, however, was an entirely different matter. Instead of using meditation as Erik had taught him, Kinsey spent most of his time brooding, employing anger as his outlet. Kinsey, of course, had always been a brooder but it had never come to anything serious. Until recently. Confrontations with his superiors had become more frequent and Erik had been afraid Kinsey would be thrown in the stockade for his last scuffle.

Lord Banlor Graves was a man of formidable power and not someone to have as an enemy; yet now, he was one. Erik didn’t know the details of the exchange that had transpired between his son and the powerful nobleman, but he knew the meeting had ended with Kinsey slamming Graves against a wall. A breach in etiquette with irreversible consequences, to be sure. In a way, this was Kinsey’s last chance to save face with the governing body of Waterfall Citadel.

“All right, let’s move out!” Kinsey shouted.

The words snapped Erik out of his contemplation. He hopped off the rock with practiced ease and made his way to Kinsey to tell him of his intentions.

“You needn’t worry, I have personally made sure things will go smoothly...” Chancellor Tomelen was saying to his personal entourage as Erik walked by. Being one of the people
actually
responsible for the safety of the caravan, Erik hoped the chancellor was correct. Getting into a skirmish with the Wildmen could prove disastrous for their little band.

“Be careful,” said Kinsey as he and Erik clasped hands.

“Always.” Erik smiled. “You as well.” He then headed deep into the Winewood.

Once found, the trail would be easy to follow. Erik didn’t think Rouke would have a problem leading the escort through the twisting paths made by the indigenous wildlife.

The heavy clop of hooves on hard-packed earth and an occasional snort or whicker from the horses gave Erik notice that the escort was close enough behind him to find the trail without further assistance. He broke several branches along the trail, just to be sure, before departing. Wanting to be in position before the group got too close to the Wildmen camp, he trotted off soundlessly into the dense forest. If Erik was good at one thing, it was moving through woods unheard and unseen.

Smoke from the Wildmen campfires drifted slowly up into the canopy above. Erik had found a good position to spy on the camp atop a thick winewood branch twenty feet from the forest floor. The encampment was quiet; only a few of the figures below stirred. Most were out of sight, hidden in their hide-covered tents.

Erik gently pulled his bow from his shoulder and arranged the quiver of arrows at his waist to a more manageable position. If things went badly, he could at least buy the escort some time by taking out a few of those wargs.

The camp consisted of several small groupings of tent-like structures and cooking fires that scattered amongst the trees in no particular order. The Wildmen themselves were comprised of not just men, but goblins and hobgoblins as well. The three species rarely coexisted, let alone worked well together, but the need for survival can overcome many differences. The men appeared similar to humans of the northern realms, only more ragged and hard-faced. The goblins were far different; very short, perhaps three feet in height, with a ruddy, green tint to their skin, and large distended noses and wicked mouths containing many sharp, rotten teeth. Intelligent and extremely devious, goblins tended to be responsible for most of the raids that came from the Savage Lands. The hobgoblins were similar to men but larger, with flat, broad noses and short tusks. Far stronger and infinitely more vicious than the other two species, hobgoblins ruled with brute force and intimidation. A demonstration played out below, as one of the hulking brutes bullied a group of humans out of what appeared to be their personal belongings.

Erik settled on his branch.
No sense in being uncomfortable while spying on your enemies
, he thought. He shifted so he would have a clear view of the wargs.

The minutes dragged on as the camp began to stir. The smell of cooking food rousted more of the savages from their sleep. Many of the figures below stretched the stiffness out of their muscles as they came out from under their tents.

The distant scream of an injured horse pierced the late-morning calm and echoed through the trees into the encampment, causing all below to go still. All of the wargs were on their feet and facing the direction of the noise in seconds, their ears perked intently.

Erik bolted upright. He quickly nocked an arrow and looked down at the Wildmen camp, which exploded into action once the telltale sound of prey faded in the distance. He took aim at one of the massive, wolf-like creatures below. “So much for things going smoothly.”

Kinsey watched helplessly as the packhorse tumbled into the ravine below, supplies and tackle littering the ground in its wake. He turned to the remaining line of men walking their horses. “Mount up! Ride!”

The armored veterans swung up into their saddles with ease and grace, as they had done a thousand times before. The chancellor and his band of fops, however, took to their horses as pigs take to ice. Although each was an accomplished rider, none of their lives had ever depended on their skill. Clawing at their mounts in panic, the noblemen only incited the beasts to frenzy. Several horses rolled their large, dark eyes back to white and kicked their forelegs in fear, throwing well-dressed men to the ground in heaps.

Kinsey shook his head. The scene would’ve been laughable, if the situation were not so dire. The wargs would be upon them soon, and the circus act being displayed before him was only wasting precious time. Kinsey cursed in frustration and mounted his own horse. He spurred his steed forward amongst the panicked animals. He grabbed their reins, bringing them under control long enough for the aristocrats to scramble up onto their saddles. “Ride!” Kinsey growled to each as he shoved the reins into their hands.

The haunting howls of the wargs rang through the morning mist, heralding their fast approach. Kinsey helped the last man, Chancellor Kesh himself, onto his steed. Once in his saddle, the chancellor just sat, paralyzed with fear, unable to spur his mount into motion.

Clenching his jaw, Kinsey slapped the backside of Kesh’s mount. “Move, you fool!”

The chancellor’s mount took off as if it were doused in flames, kicking up dust while it ran along the game trail at breakneck speed. Kesh clung to the reins for dear life, his arms and legs flailing about, trying to find a hold on the horse beneath him.

“Kinsey!” screamed the chancellor in a high-pitched voice that carried through the woods.

Kinsey dug his heels into his horse’s flanks and thundered off after the screaming nobleman, knowing the wargs would be hot on his trail in a few moments. Kinsey also knew they could never outrun the wargs, but if they put enough distance between themselves and the Wildmen camp, there was a chance of engaging only the large, wolf-like beasts instead of the entire tribe. Otherwise, the conflict would be the end of them all.