Search for Audric (28 page)

"So the father is still alive?" frowned Gunnar. "What did Jared think of your thoughts?"

"I have not shared them," Kenra replied, "and I am not sure that we should. Whatever the man's reasons, he did something that tore his heart apart, but something he thought best for his son. Are you really prepared to open the wounds that you will tear apart by bringing up the fact that the father abandoned the lad?"

"I don't know," the Arin prince sighed heavily. "I do not want to hurt Jared, but I want very much to talk to his father."

"Are the two impossible to achieve separately?" questioned Horst. "Can we not track the father without letting Jared know about it?"

"That would be difficult," answered Kenra, "but not impossible. The lad knows the secret camping spots of his father, and the man is clever, Gunnar. I will take you to see this alcove they used. It is perfect for hiding from people. I could hear your party from there, and I could have been gone upstream before you reached it. I may never find his other hiding spots without Jared."

"If anyone can," smiled Gunnar, "it is you. We will try to track down the father without Jared's help. Only if that fails will be bring the lad into the search."

"How do we begin?" asked Horst.

"There are two paths to begin this search," declared the Salacian prince. "One requires someone to visit the village east of here. The father has to get his supplies from somewhere, and I think he has been in this vicinity recently. Jared told me that he got fruits and vegetables from the village, but I suspect he also got the bocco for his pipe there. The man might go without ale, but he is still smoking his pipe."

"I will go to the village," volunteered Horst.

"Be discreet," warned Kenra. "We do not want to spook the father. If we do, we will lose all chance of finding him."

"It is the perfect task for Kerzi," smiled Gunnar. "He will fit right in with the villagers. Take him with you, Horst. Guide him to the village and wait beyond sight while he questions the visitors. Tell Kerzi what he needs to know on the way there. You can trust him with whatever we know. He will say nothing to harm Jared."

"I will take care of it," promised Horst as he strode back towards the fire ring.

"What is the other path?" asked Gunnar.

"I want you to see the alcove," replied Kenra. "I am fairly certain that the father left when we approached. I think he went upstream, but I did not want to pursue the trail until we had talked."

"What do we do with Talot and Monte?" asked the Arin prince.

"That is up to you," shrugged Kenra. "We can use their help tracking the father, but someone needs to stay with Jared as well. Would they keep the truth from the lad to protect him?"

"I think so," mused Gunnar, "but I am not sure. They would have to believe that it was the best thing to do. Do not get me wrong. Both are honest and loyal men, and I do not fear any betrayal from them, but there is a sort of dishonesty in what we are doing."

"There is," agreed the Salacian prince, "but for the best of reasons. We must learn why the father thinks it is better for his son to believe that he is dead. The man may have a valid fear, and that could destroy the lad. I will leave informing them up to you."

"I will dwell upon it," sighed Gunnar. "Show me the alcove."

Kenra nodded and led the Arin prince across the clearing and along the stream to the alcove. While Gunnar looked around the alcove, Kenra edged upstream, hugging the cliff face that extended down to the stream. There was no path to speak of, and Kenra's boots sloshed in the water until a thin strip of soil appeared at the base of the cliffs. He knelt and examined the soil.

"What did you find?" asked Gunnar as the Arin prince followed his friend.

"Someone definitely came this way today," Kenra announced. "It would appear to be more than an hour ago."

"Is that significant?" asked Gunnar.

"Very significant," nodded the Salacian tracker. "It was not us that scared the father from his lair. Someone was approaching the alcove before us."

"The people hunters that Jared spoke of?" scowled Gunnar.

"I hope not," Kenra replied. "It will be hard enough to track this man if he is not suspecting that someone is on his trail, but if he knows his enemy is close, I imagine that he has the capability to make tracking him very difficult."

"We will need to be careful about camp security," frowned Gunnar. "If the father has a reasonable fear of harm to Jared, and the people hunters are nearby, we must protect the lad well. We cannot spare Talot and Monte for the search."

"Agreed," nodded Kenra. "I am going to follow this trail further. You go back and get our horses. Try to find a path around the cliff, and we will meet up wherever this trail comes out of the gorge."

Gunnar turned and made his way back to the alcove and then to the campsite in the clearing. Talot, Monte, and Jared looked at him with questioning eyes and the Arin prince approached them to explain the situation.

"We need a very secure camp tonight," Gunnar announced. "There might be potentially hostile forces in the area."

"Where has everyone else gone?" asked Monte. "We seem to be left out of what is going on."

"Horst and Kerzi have gone off to visit the nearby village," answered Gunnar. "They may not be back until after dark. Kenra and I are going north a ways to see if we can pick up a trail that he is following. I don't know when we will be back."

"Is that wise?" asked Talot. "It seems as if we are splitting up in small groups."

"I do not know if it is wise," answered Gunnar, "but it is necessary. Kenra just realized that others might be in the area. It is too late to recall Horst and Kerzi from their journey, and Kenra and I may be in a race to save a man's life. We have no choice. You two must protect Jared at any cost. Can you do that?"

Talot glanced at his long, two-headed axe and his long spears, and nodded solemnly. "We will protect the lad with our lives," he declared.

"That's right," Monte readily agreed as he picked up his bow and strung two quivers over his shoulder. "You take care of Kenra and yourself, Gunnar. We will be here when you get back."

Gunnar saddled his horse and Kenra's. He attached all of the packs as if they were moving out of the camp and then mounted his horse. He tied the reins of Kenra's horse to his saddle and set off to find a path around the gorge. As he made his way through the mature forest, his eyes rose to check the angle of the sun. Over half the day was already gone and soon he would be worrying about the failing light. He was not happy about the chaotic way the day had unfolded, but he saw no alternative to his current course of action.

As they neared the village, the paths became better defined, and its location became apparent. Once the buildings were in sight, Horst dismounted and found a place to watch the village without being seen. He then allowed Kerzi to continue onward.

The village was fairly small with no inn at all. It was not in an area where travelers were frequent and no accommodation had been made for them. There was not an actual tavern, either, but there was a shop that sold necessities, and it hosted a number of chairs and two tables where locals could gather and drink ale. The rest of the village consisted of small homes with large gardens and one large farm. Kerzi headed straight for the shop.

The shop was run by an elderly couple. The man worked the fields behind the shop and made runs into Goodland to purchase items to resell to the locals. The woman worked indoors, waiting on customers, stocking the shelves, or baking goods for sale. Kerzi smiled as he entered the shop and began browsing the meager display of merchandise on the shelves.

"Need anything in particular?" asked the woman.

"An ale would do nicely," smiled Kerzi. "You have a nice shop here."

"It's not much," shrugged the woman as she filled a mug with ale and brought it to the table, "but it is the only one around for miles. Where are you from?"

"Goodland," answered Kerzi. "I am a traveling merchant, but I recently lost my wagon. It will be a while before I get another one. My name is Kerzi."

"And you are spending your time visiting us?" the woman asked skeptically.

"Actually," smiled Kerzi, "I had not planned to come here at all. I had heard of the villages north of the Anatar-Koar Road, but I have never been up this way before. I guess I spend more time in other countries than I do in Capri."

"A man of the world, eh?" posed the woman.

"Merely a merchant," smiled Kerzi, "as was my father, and his father before him. It is a living. Being here does make me wonder what life would be like settling down in a village."

"It's quiet," answered the woman, "and peaceful most of the time."

"Most of the time?" echoed Kerzi. "Do you get bandits up here?"

"There are bandits everywhere," shrugged the woman. "They don't bother us much as there is little to steal here, but they do raise a ruckus when they come through. Most of them could use some manners, but they don't seriously hurt anyone."

Kerzi sipped his ale as his eyes continued to scan the merchandise. He saw nothing that might interest a man on the run.

"Do you carry bocco here?" he asked.

"We have a small supply," nodded the woman. "Not much call for it, but we usually have some around."

"No smokers in the village?" chuckled Kerzi.

"Nope," replied the woman. "It's a foul and disgusting habit."

"Then whom do you sell it to?" he asked.

The woman's eyes narrowed as she stopped stocking the shelves and turned to stare at Kerzi.

"You ask a lot of questions for a man just happening by," she said accusingly. "Were you interested in purchasing some bocco?"

"Indeed I was," smiled Kerzi. "I am sorry if my questions are upsetting you. Is there some dark secret in this village that I am in danger of uncovering?"

The woman was taken aback by Kerzi's direct question. She found a small pouch of bocco and brought it to the table.

"No dark secrets," she said. "We just tend to keep our noses out of other people's business. That pouch costs four coppers. Is it enough for your needs?"

"More than enough," Kerzi replied as he opened his pouch and placed a silver coin on the table. "Don't forget to charge me for the ale as well."

"Will it be only the one then?" she asked.

"Well," Kerzi said hesitantly. "I am a talker, and I feel as if I am intruding here. I don't want to upset you."

"You're not upsetting me," the woman quickly replied. "I enjoy company while I am working."

"No, I understand completely, believe me," Kerzi responded. "I can well imagine your reticence to talk about others."

"Good," smiled the woman. "Nothing good comes from gossip."

Kerzi finished his ale and picked up the silver piece. He walked over to the woman and handed it to her.

"Best we settle accounts," Kerzi smiled. "I wanted to see the village that Jared came to, and I have done that. I best be on my way."

"Jared?" gasped the woman. "You knew the lad?"

"Knew him?" questioned Kerzi. "I know him. Why do you speak of him in past tense?"

"He is dead," answered the woman as her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "He died a year ago. What game are you playing at?"

"The lad is not dead," Kerzi responded. "That might be what his father says, but Jared merely ran away."

"Why would he do such a thing?" the woman shook her head. "He was always such a happy lad, and he adored his father. I don't believe you."

"It is a sad story," sighed Kerzi, "but you know how children get confused at times. The truth is, I found Jared on my last trip trough Salacia. He said he had been on the road for over a year. The whole purpose of my trip is to try to reunite the lad with his father. I thought coming here might lead me to him."

"I told you the lad was not dead," came a low voice from the rear door of the building.

Kerzi looked up and saw a large man standing in the doorway. Kerzi figured he was the husband and nodded to the man.

"He was seen on the Koar-Anatar Road days after the old man said he had died," continued the husband. "I never believed the old hermit's tale."

"Are you sure it is Jared?" the woman asked.

"It is the name that he gave me," answered Kerzi, "and he is the one who told me about this village. He used to come here to get fruits and vegetables for his father. He also said that his father fixed things for people of this village. Could it be anyone other than Jared that I was talking to?"

"No," smiled the woman. "I am so thankful that he is alive. He was such a sweet young man."

"You won't ever find his father," declared the husband. "The man sneaks around so much that even the squirrels can't follow him. He leaves this village in a different direction every time he comes."

"Just knowing that the man still lives is enough for me to continue looking," smiled Kerzi. "Have you seen him recently?"

"Yesterday," nodded the woman. "He doesn't come as often as Jared did. We may not see him again for weeks. Where is the boy?"

"He is staying with friends," answered Kerzi as he reached into his pouch and pulled out a gold coin. He pressed it into the woman's hands.

"If he comes in again," Kerzi said, "tell him that Jared loves him very much and wants to come back to him."

The woman stared at the gold coin as Kerzi turned to leave the shop. The husband moved forward to see what she had received.

"Bless you, Kerzi," the woman called after him. "You take good care of that lad."

Kerzi left the shop and moved quickly out of the town. He met up with Horst and mounted his horse.

"Jared's father is alive," he declared. "The man told the shopkeepers that his son died a year ago. He was in town yesterday and won't be back for weeks, if at all."

"I wonder how the lad will take this news?" frowned Horst. "It is not an uplifting thing to be rejected by your father."

"I won't be the one to tell him," stated Kerzi.

* * *

The Salacian prince followed the trail along the edge of the stream until it suddenly stopped. The footprints led into the stream as if the father had intended to cross it or walk along in the water for a pace to make tracking him more difficult. A less-skilled tracker would have fallen for that trick, but Prince Derri noticed something out of place. There was a small clump of damp sand resting in the depression of one of the early footsteps. It was smaller than the fingernail of his smallest finger, and Prince Derri stooped to examine it.

The clump had made a depression in the already-compacted sand, and the tracker knew that it had fallen from some height. Prince Derri's eyes rose to examine the cliff face. He smiled as he saw the path the father had taken. Small already-dried drip stains of sandy water marked the path upward. Prince Derri stepped into the creek and grabbed the small overhang. He was easily able to lift his feet onto a small ledge and follow the trail to the top of the cliff.

Prince Derri paused at the top of the cliff and gazed around to get his bearings. He had been following the father's trail for hours, and he was beginning to have profound respect for the man. In fact, Prince Derri was sure that the only reason he was still on the father's trail was because of that respect. The father had used every trick in the book to lose a tracker, and Prince Derri had refused to take any of the bait. He stopped and examined each turning point with careful study for all possibilities, not just the most obvious ones. This time was no different.

The area right at the top of the path had been deliberately brushed to remove prints. The brushing was not obvious, unless you were positive that your man had come this way. The intent was to lead one to think he was following a false trail and make him turn around. Prince Derri was not turning around. He looked along the very edges of the cliff to see if anyone could have moved away from this spot by walking on the rim. There was no evidence of that, and Prince Derri gazed up in the trees that grew right to the edge. The trees had a flaky bark, and there was no sign of anyone climbing the trunk. The lowest branches were too high to reach. It looked very much like a tracker's dead end.

The Salacian tracker scoured the area away from the rim looking for any signs of recent activity. He found nothing and returned to the edge of the cliff. He gazed up in the tree again and made his mind up to climb the tree. He hugged the tree and worked his way up the trunk sending showers of flaky bark downward. When he reached the first branch, he pulled himself onto it and rested. After a few minutes he stood up and gazed further up the tree. That was when he saw the rope coiled on an upper branch. He quickly climbed upward and studied the rope. He smiled broadly to himself. The rope was obviously lowered whenever the father needed to use the alcove. It was clever indeed, but it was also a liability when your tracker knew about it. Kenra now knew that the father would be camping in the alcove only when the rope was lowered. He mentally filed that information away and looked to see where the man had gone next.

The large limbs of the old trees ran in every direction. They intertwined with the branches of the other trees and made for a thousand paths that the father could have taken without setting foot on the ground. Kenra sighed in frustration.

* * *

Gunnar rode slowly through the forest. He kept his eyes on the surface of the trail, but also watched for the edge of the gorge off to his left. He knew that sooner or later he needed to veer to the left to meet up with Prince Derri, but he did not have a good feel for when to make that turn. As long as the gorge remained close by, he could always shout for his friend, but that would only be an act of desperation when he had given up hope of finding him any other way.

The Arin prince came to an intersection of trails and halted. There were fresh horse droppings on the trail, and he dismounted and examined the tracks made by the recent riders. He noted four distinct tracks and remounted. He followed the same trail the four men had taken, but he now also watched the distance in front of him. He did not want to ride up behind the other riders and be noticed.

Gunnar followed the trail for another hour until he stopped again. The sun was declining and daylight would soon turn to night. The tracks he had been following split up with two men going to the right and two men to the left. He had a decision to make. The gorge was still off to the left, and that is where he should go, but he was extremely curious about the riders he had been following. There were only two reasons he could see for the group to split up. Either they were going different places and this was where they needed to part company, or they were in the process of surrounding something. It was the second option that disturbed him greatly. He had no rational reason for thinking such was the case, but Gunnar instinctively took the right fork. His gut was telling him that a fight awaited him.

The trail turned sharply, and a broad clearing suddenly appeared. A wide field of brambles covered the clearing, and Gunnar saw the two riders off in the distance. His eyes scanned the entire clearing, and he could not see anything that would interest them, but the two men had dismounted. Gunnar kept moving along the trail that curved around the large bramble patch. As he got closer to the men, he urged his horse into the trees on the right side of the path. He untied Prince Derri's horse from his saddle and tied it to a tree. He then tied his horse and moved forward on foot.

The two men were intently watching the center of the field of brambles, but Gunnar still could not see anything of interest. He continued to sneak up on the men as he stayed within the woods. When he finally came up behind them, he peered past them. Far out in the center of the brambles was a depression of some type. A narrow winding path led through the brambles from the depression to the far side of the clearing where the other two men were standing. Gunnar nodded as he realized that the men were indeed surrounding something, but he could not tell what or who. What was stranger was the fact that there was no trail through the brambles on this side of the clearing. He wondered what the two closest men were there for.

Gunnar moved a little nearer and saw a hole in the ground near the feet of the two closer men. The tunnel entrance was practically concealed by the brambles, and Gunnar doubted if he would have seen it had he been merely riding by.

The two distant men began moving along the winding path through the brambles, and the closer men drew their swords. Gunnar saw a head pop up in the depression in the center of the brambles, and the two distant men shouted with excitement. He did not hear their words, but the closer men must have.

"The rat's coming this way," one of the men laughed. "I've waited a long time for this."