Ossendar: Book Two of the Resoration Series (44 page)

“Don't kill me.” The thief croaked. He was a grubby old man, well tanned, such that his skin had the appearance of leather. His hair was black mixed with grey, and his nose seemed oversized and out of place on the thief, seeing how he was so incredibly skinny. He looked like a decent puff of wind would blow him right over. The whites of his eyes seemed yellow, and he frantically looked from one to the other, although only his eyes moved. He smelled of rotten meat, and reminded Flare of many of the beggars they had seen standing on the street.

“Give me a reason.” Flare demanded.

“Arnok sent me to help you.” The old man said quietly, still croaking as he spoke.

Flare glanced up, and read in the eyes of the other two, that the name meant nothing to any of them. “I don't know any Arnok. Suppose you describe him for me and tell me how stealing from me is supposed to help me.” The surrounding crowd was looking everywhere but at them.

The old man swallowed, his Adam's apple getting dangerously close to the edge of Philip's blade. “Arnok is a dwarf; he lives here in the city. He found me less than an hour ago and told me to find you three and make sure that you got out of the city safely.”

Flare leaned closer to the smelly old man, “Okay. Let's say that I believe you. I still don't understand how you stealing from me is supposed to help me.”

“You don't understand. The other man was going to steal from you, so I beat him to it. And, I did it so you would catch me. Surely, you don't think that I'm as bad a thief as all that.” Once again the thief glanced from Philip to Flare. “I swear that I did it to alert you and that's all.”

“Perhaps,” Flare said quietly. It didn't really matter if the thief had intended to rob them blind and then slit their throats, as there wasn't much that they could do about it. They couldn't very well kill the man, right here in the middle of the street. Nor could they turn him over to the guards. If the dwarf was telling the truth, then the guards should already be looking for people matching their description, so they had to stay as far from the guards as they could. “All right. Let him go.” Flare nodded to Philip, who reluctantly lowered his sword away from the skinny man's neck. Philip's sword still wasn't completely sheathed, when the skinny thief bolted into the crowd, moving so quick that he was lost to sight in just a couple of moments.

“What if he was lying?” Philip asked, as they started their horses moving again.

“Does it matter?” Flare retorted. “Couldn't kill him, and we couldn't turn him in either.” Flare shrugged, “Only left us one choice, and besides he did mention the dwarf.”

“He mentioned a dwarf,” Philip corrected.

Flare chose not to respond, because they were approaching the gates and that meant, of course, the guards. Anxiety settled over him as the gates moved closer, and it seemed to settle in his stomach. He pulled his cloak closer, even though it certainly wasn't cold enough to warrant doing so, and hoped that the cloak wouldn't draw attention to them. Was it his imagination, or were the guards busy scrutinizing those who were leaving? It seemed that they were perhaps actually watching those leaving even more than they were watching those entering the city, but then again, it could just be his anxiety talking. He swallowed, his mouth suddenly going dry. Pulling his cloak even closer, he rode through the gates and past the gazes of the guards. Fighting hard against the urge to turn to see if the guards were still watching, he forced himself to maintain a slow steady pace along the road. As soon as they had passed through the gates, the people around him began spreading out along the road, and it took all of his will power not to kick his horse to a faster pace. It wasn't until they had traveled a good hundred yards, that he finally allowed himself to relax. Well, at least for now, the anxiety was already kicking in about waiting for the dwarf at this clump of trees.

They found the trees without a problem, but they spent almost an hour of fussing with their saddles before they could leave the road and approach the hollow. The road was overrun with travelers, and three men riding across an open field toward a clump of trees just might stick out in some of their memories. So, they took turns adjusting their saddles, all the time grumbling about the time they were wasting. One of them would climb down and began loosening or tightening the girth straps, and maybe adjusting the stirrup lengths. Philip even went so far as to take the bridle off of his horse to “inspect” it, before putting it back on. Every time they thought the road was clear, another group of people would come around the bend in the road, and they would start the saddle adjustments all over.

Finally, with about an hour before dark, they caught a break. Traffic in both directions along the highway cleared up long enough for them to make a dash to the trees. Atock was riding bareback because he had taken the saddle off just before the break in the traffic. He carried the saddle pulled up tight against his leg.

The field was covered in brown grass that came to Flare's knees and crunched when their horses trampled across it. The field appeared to have once been farm land, but had not been tilled in some time. Perhaps the farmers rotated their fields, or maybe they had just moved away. Either way, they were not taking any chances, and they watched carefully for holes that the horses might step into.

Reaching the trees, they found them exactly as the dwarf had described. The trees were a type of oak, and they ringed a shallow depression. The hollow wasn't that big, perhaps twenty yards wide by thirty or so yards long. Bushes grew between the trees, all along the top of the hollow and helped provide excellent coverage. All in all, it made for an excellent camp. Flare led his horse between two shrubs and down the short slope. Philip followed, and Atock brought up the rear. Reaching the bottom, Flare motioned off to his left. “Let's put the horses over there.” The bottom of the hollow was dirt covered by a thick layer of leaves. Here and there, a small weed had managed to force its way through the leaves, but for the most part nothing grew in the depression.

“We're not actually going to stay here and hope that the dwarf is trustworthy. Are we?” Philip asked, the incredulity obvious in his voice. “He could just want the reward all to himself. He could be bringing the city guards with him.”

Flare looked over at Atock, “What do you think?”

Atock shrugged. “Philip is right. This could be a trap, but I didn't get the feeling that the dwarf was lying.”

Philip threw up his hands, “Oh great! Let's trust a complete stranger with our lives based on Atock's gut feeling.”

Flare was silent a moment. Philip was right to be distrustful, someone had set them up after all, but like Atock, he too felt that the dwarf was trustworthy. “I believed him, too.” Philip shook his head, looking disgusted, but Flare kept right on talking, “But let's be careful. Atock, head to the trees around the stream, just south of here.” He pointed as he spoke, “Keep an eye out for any of the guards, and let us know about anything else suspicious.”

“All right.” Atock answered, looking south to where Flare wanted him to take up watch. “Do you want me to finish taking care of my horse, first?”

“No,” Flare said quickly. “I will re-saddle him for you.”

Both Atock and Philip seemed surprised, “You don't want us to set up a picket line for the horses?” Philip asked.

“No,” Shaking his head, Flare looked from one to the other, “I want to be able to leave quickly, and if we get separated, head north.” He paused, trying to think of a good place to regroup. “If we get separated, then we will meet at that burnt out farm house. Remember where it's at?” Both Philip and Atock nodded. They had passed it just this morning, and had remarked at how total the destruction had been. “Good. Let's get going.”

An hour or two after the sun went down, Flare and Philip heard the shrill cry of a red breasted northern duck. Which was strange, since the red breasted northern duck preferred a much colder environment and didn't migrate this far south. Well, it would have been strange, if the guardians hadn't used the duck's cry in their signals. It was a signal from Atock that someone was approaching. They had learned different animal calls to signal different things. This one meant “Careful! Something unplanned for is happening.” It got Flare and Philip both scrambling to their feet.

“Uh-oh.” Philip murmured in an almost told you so fashion. “That doesn't sound good.”

“Could be worse,” Flare said. And in truth it could have been. Atock had signaled that something unplanned for was happening, but he had not signaled danger or imminent attack, he hadn't even signaled retreat. “You go right, and I'll take the left.” Flare pointed to the trees ringing the hollow as he spoke.

Moving quickly, to his left, Flare drew his sword as he scrambled up the slope, hoping all the time that the dwarf had not betrayed them.

Reaching the top of the slope, Flare lay down next to an oak, and looked out over the field. Luckily, the field was lit up by the moonlight, and he could even make out the highway in the distance. Nothing moved along the road, but several shapes were riding across the field. That must be what Atock meant was unplanned. They had expected the dwarf to show up tonight, but three riders were moving in on them. Adjusting his position to better watch the horsemen, Flare silently waited.

Flare's elven sight quickly identified the left-most rider as the dwarf. Dwarves were notoriously bad riders, and he was bouncing around so much in the saddle, that Flare was surprised he was still managing to hang on. The rider on the far right was doing better than the dwarf, but only slightly. He was bouncing around too, and he appeared to have a death grip, both with his legs, and on the saddle horn.

The last rider, the one in the middle, was the most interesting. He rode his horse like a general going into battle, ram-rod straight and with an ease that bespoke of many hours spent in the saddle. The middle rider looked solid, not fat, but muscular and broad.

They stopped about twenty yards from the hollow, and Flare finally recognized the rider on the right as the thief that claimed to have helped them by trying to rob them.

“Flaranthlas?” The middle rider called out. “My name is Vinekh.” He paused, searching the trees around the hollow. “We are not here to hurt you. May we enter?”

“Awful polite.” Flare mumbled under his breath, but at least they had asked. If they wanted to catch the guardians, there would have been a whole lot more men. “Come on!” He called out, ignoring the huff of impatience from Philip's location.

The riders dismounted, and the dwarf took the lead, and heading for a small gap in the trees, pulling his horse by the bridle. The other two riders also dismounted, and followed the path that the dwarf had chosen.

Flare stood and returned to the floor of the hollow, but he still kept his sword out. No reason to trust them completely. He was pleased to see Philip come down, and he too still had his sword ready.

The dwarf pushed through the small bushes, and moved down the slope to the bottom. He walked slowly, eyeing the two fighters with their swords out. “What's with the swords? You don't trust us?”

Philip spoke before Flare had a chance to, “No. We don't.”

Sighing, Flare sheathed his sword and glared at Philip until he followed suit. “We are just trying to be careful.” He glanced back at the dwarf, “I'm sure that you understand.” The broad man, who was apparently named Vinekh, had reached the bottom, and was standing beside the dwarf; the thief was just a few steps behind.

“We are not here to harm you, or turn you over to the city guard.” The big man said in a loud no nonsense manner. He stood with his shoulders back and his chest out, like the guardians did when they were at a parade. His bearing and voice marked him as a minor noble or perhaps a very well-to-do merchant. Either way, Flare was suspicious as to why he was here.

Glancing over at the thief, Flare started to look back, and then did a double take. It was the same thief that claimed to have been sent to help them, but he looked different in some way. Well, he looked different in several ways. He still had the sickly appearance, but it was lessened somehow. Earlier today, he had seemed liked a weak cringing shell of a man, but now he seemed to have a confidence that he had lacked earlier. He stood straighter, and he met Flare's gaze levelly.

“You seem different.” Philip said, apparently noticing the changes too.

“That's Hughes for you,” The dwarf mumbled. “He gathers information for us, and he's good at it, too. Most people don't even notice him.”

“Yeah. I guess I just blend in.” Hughes said with a grin.

The thief's grin almost made Flare sick, showing off a mouthful of yellow and black teeth. Flare turned his attention back to the dwarf, “And you must be Arnok.”

The dwarf stared at Flare, his gaze not a happy one. “How do you know that? I didn't tell you my name.” His hand dropped to the hilt of his long dagger, and he studied the faces of the guardians. He quickly started looking around, “Vinekh, I swear that I didn't tell them my name. This must be a trap.”

Sensing the dwarf's unease, the big man had already drawn his sword and held it with the tip of the blade pointing at Flare.

Flare raised his empty hands, “Calm down. Hughes told me your name when he found us at the city gates.”

“Hughes? You did what?” The dwarf asked angrily, turning to glare at the thief. Even in the poor light, it was easy enough to see the dwarf's face going red in anger.