The Hekamon (28 page)

The plan had seemed sound, yet once more needed
adapting. The sounds coming from behind her indicated her pursuers
were not taking things so steadily. She reeled in her rising panic,
she knew it was possible to run and hide at the same time, providing
it was done correctly. Ducking under branches and not breaking them,
avoiding patches of bare earth that would catch foot prints, raising
her feet instead of dragging.

The guards must be at least a hundred paces behind her,
if not two hundred, yet she could hear them and almost feel the
pounding feet. How many were chasing her? The footsteps seemed loud.
Were there numerous men, or just a few running fast and right on her
tail? Looking over her shoulder, Alyssa couldn't see anything but
that didn't reassure her. The trail she was on followed the curve of
the hill and that was the only thing keeping her out of view, she
needed to take advantage.

Now Alyssa did break into a full sprint. Her feet
landing heavily, she might be heard but had to take that risk now, because
as things were, she was close to being seen. Even as she reached full
speed, Alyssa realized running would not be enough, it needed more. A
decoy, a feint, anything, she needed to be elusive. Could she take a
different route?

She knew from her experiences of tracking boar that
their habit of following familiar and easily navigable trails made
them so much easier to hunt. This was such a path, running as it did
along a contour of level ground, it was an easy way to go, too easy,
it was predictable. A smart predator could follow it without effort.
She had to be off the beaten track, but which way to turn?

She continued around the hillside, ahead of her it
straightened and entered a clearing. She knew which clearing, rocky
and slippery with moss covered stones. She would be easy to see if
she didn't get through it quickly. She had to be at least one hundred
paces ahead, or she would be easily visible across the wide open
glade. Yet the fast, powerful footsteps behind told her they were
closer than that. She could not stay on this path, not if she wanted
remain unseen.

She looked down the tree covered hillside, should she
simply flee? Kick off the boots and run for the bridge? It was
downhill all the way and when the situation called for it she could
be fast. This was one of those moments. But the chasing footsteps
were those of a fast runner, too. And going downhill would rob her of
the cover of the hillside, she would definitely be seen. If she
stayed on her feet she might get away, but if she fell they would be
onto her and she would be captured.

The trail straightened now, and
the rocky escarpment lay directly ahead, she had just seconds to
decide. She couldn't go straight on, nor could she turn left and
downhill without being seen.

There was only one option, Alyssa broke to her right and
headed uphill, managing to make several big strides and getting a
good distance off the trail, all the while looking back
in the direction she had come. Watching for the first glimpse of
movement.

Almost immediately she saw it and desperately threw herself
to the hillside, and into a merciful deep pile of leaves near the
exposed roots of a tree.

She had seen them, if they had seen her, she would know
very quickly. In her exhausted state, she couldn't hold her breath for
long, a few seconds at most, she did so.

Laying still and motionless,
not breathing, not daring. She heard footsteps, they were loud and
they were close. Then a voice. A man's voice, shouting, hollering and
calling out to another. Urgent, insistent and filling the forest with
noise. The sound startled and alarmed every living creature nearby.
Alyssa knew that all too well, she felt it, too.

He ran for a hundred yards along the earth embankment,
to the point the stream turned and disappeared into a culvert. From
this position, Tregarron could just make out a path following the
contour between two hills. He stopped and examined the area. Scuff
marks and disturbance on the ground suggested the path had been used
recently. He could see no obvious signs of the boot prints like the
one near the hut, but the blanket of leaves here meant there was no
bare soil to for any prints to show.

Within moments, Teague had caught up with him and when
the guard stopped running and his footsteps fell silent, Tregarron
listened. It was hard to be sure, but he thought he could hear
something, through the trees and along the trail. He set off again,
with his fellow guard close behind, pressing on with greater
confidence.

As they ran, the dead leaves and fallen branches on the
forest floor crunched under their boots. The heavy thuds of their
footsteps reverberating off the trees nearby and piercing the silence
of the forest.

While ahead of them came the sound of birds issuing
their warning calls and taking flight. Did it mean they were on the
right track? Tregarron thought they might be. But their own incursion
into the forest might be disturbing the wildlife as much as anything
else. There was no subtlety here, no caution, no guile. His blood was
up, he was not stalking his quarry, he was chasing it down.

His pursuit was being driven by more than just the
desire to catch a fugitive, or the wish to see a violent absconder
brought to justice. It was much more than that. The sight of the two
Coralainians in the hut had triggered something inside him. Their
bleeding heads and faces, the blood splattered tunics. He had felt it
immediately, a fire welling in the pit of his stomach, his teeth
grinding and skin crawling.

Now he was running. Hurtling along the hillside, with
fists clenched, heart and feet pounding. The chase was bringing the
vivid memories back to him. The crisp autumn air, the sound and smell
of the forest, even the trees looked the same. Today, the unearthly
pale light was caused by the mountain shadow, then it had been a
deathly eventide. He drew his sword and the recollection manifested
more strongly, the feel of the hilt and heft of the weapon. He
quickened his pace into something like a charge.

He was back on the hillside forests of Klintereath. An
enemy patrol had been spotted, scouting the position of their camp.
His orders were to catch them.

Chasing down the spies, he was the
youngest of his band of soldiers, the fittest, the fastest, the
leader of the hunt. Breaking through branches, hacking away with his
sword. Leaping down the hillside, seemingly a dozen paces in a single
bound.

He glimpsed sight of the first, striking him down with a
single blow, the men following behind would do the rest. Without
slowing, he was after the next one. The man's attempts to hide were
too little, too late and he succumbed as well. The two enemy
agents had been caught and justice swiftly delivered.

Yet he'd suspected one of the men had escaped their
grasp, and his squad leader had shared his opinion. But, preferring
to return with talk of triumph, and with two dead spies to support
their claims, they'd kept it to themselves. With their mission an
apparent success, his leader had been commended for his action and
promoted.

With their commander unaware their position had been
compromised, the company did not immediately move camp and were
attacked the next day. After suffering heavy losses, they had to
retreat.

He had been sworn to secrecy about the failure of their
mission, he had no choice, he had been culpable, too. It was a
youthful mistake and one he would not repeat. None would escape
again, and if they did, the fact would be revealed and acted on.

His determination and sense of purpose spurred him on,
his pace became unrelenting. His stride lengthened and sword raised.
A roar of intent at his lips ready to be unleashed. His left hand
clenched where the handle of his shield should be, but it wasn't
there, not on this day, not on these hills.

It brought his mind back
to the chase in hand and as it did, he heard shouting behind him. The
shouts of his men urging him on?

No, the opposite in fact. It was Teague, unable to keep
up, and calling to him, pleading for him to slow down.

He had rushed on and knew it would happen. He knew that
he would be unable to control his urge to give chase. The feeling
that he would not be able to hold back had been palpable and that is
what he'd done. He cursed his lack of discipline, his
hotheadedness. Now he did ease back.

Teague was right, they needed to take stock. Tregarron
slowed to a jog and then almost to a stop, and when his companion caught up, he turned to him.

"Let's rest for a minute," he said, and his
fellow guardsman didn't argue.

The two of them walked on in silence.

They had traveled few hundred yards, almost due east of
the trade huts. It hadn't taken them long, they'd been running at
full tilt. Now at walking pace, the two men reached a glade. This one
on a rocky escarpment with moss growing on the bare rock underfoot.
His eyes searched the tree line, but seeing no movement, took the chance to think.

He knew that there were many of these glades scattered
around the foothills. So many, that they gave this area its name. It
was mostly the preserve of the tradesmen supplementing their meager
income from the occasional travelers along the Regis Highway. There
were deer, boar and rabbits to be found roaming the forest here,
wolves, too. Yet it was accessible to both Coralainians, who could
reach this place through the mountain tunnels, and the Fennreans,
whose marshes the streams here drained into.

He reached the center of the glade.

In
his rush to catch the assailant he had not given consideration to
what he would do if he were to catch them. He didn't doubt that he
would
catch them. He was on the right track, he could feel it. Not only
that, he could sense his prey was close and could almost smell them.
Yet it seemed the eyes of the forest were on him, too. He sensed them
and they sensed him, there was something out there, watching.

Tregarron rarely felt fear, he actually thought it to be
one of his weaknesses. Fear could sharpen the mind and heighten the
senses. Yet a hint of fear crept to him now. He felt it in his spine
and the feeling was not wholly unwelcome. It meant his intuition was
in play, his instinct was telling him something and he was prepared
to listen.

The
further they chased into the glades, the greater the risks. Was there
only one assailant? And if so, who were they?
What
were they?

Whoever it was, he would need to be mindful. One of the
men overpowered at the trading post was strong and had been armed
with a dagger. He should be careful not to underestimate his quarry,
they might be running now, but if cornered, they might turn and
fight.

Deciding his next course of action, Tregarron sat down
on a large boulder, and, taking the fur pouch out of his pocket, he
began to study it. Its existence was not a coincidence, it was
significant, of this there was no doubt. As he examined it, his
fellow guard spoke.

"What do you think?" Teague asked, breathless
from the exertion of running in the heavy uniform.

Tregarron looked around the clearing and into the woods
beyond. "I'm wondering how many people we're dealing with here,
and whether they came out of the mountains, or out of the swamp."

The discovery of the fur bag, with its clay vials was
concerning him more. The Fennreans had a reputation as wild animals,
moving in packs and hunting unsuspecting prey. Tregarron knew it was
part invention. It was more of a way to warn children to stay away
from the dangerous swamps around the Rhavenbrook, 'Take care, or be
taken by the Fennreans'.

Yet it is was not an entirely false
characterization. Theirs was a tough existence. They stuck together
and could kill if they had to. How far did they venture into this
forest? He and Teague and gone someway into the glades already. If
not careful they could easily end up in the same predicament as
Tansley and the two Coralainians bound up with him. Especially if
they found themselves outnumbered.

Teague prowled around the clearing, "We could deal
with one or two, no problem, but half a dozen of the buggers, that
would be a different matter."

Tregarron murmured his agreement. The problem was not so
much that they might be unable to find them, but how many there would
be when they did. He hated having to break off the chase, but he saw no
option. Besides, although confident he was following the right trail,
he could not be certain. Chasing blindly would not help matters. He
needed to find a new lead, and he knew exactly where to begin.

The three tied up men, who were in the process of being
taken to the fort, they would shed some light on matters. He would
interrogate them and pick things up from there. He would not be
ending his pursuit, far from it, he would be mobilizing a more
extensive search.

If only he had the manpower to do it thoroughly. He
cursed the paucity of resources at his command. He'd warned Jephson
the fort was becoming short-handed, yet nothing had been done about
it. They would need to call in some reinforcements from nearby
villages, especially if they were dealing with both Fennrean and
Coralainian incursions.

Seeing Teague move back from the far edge of the glade,
he placed the fur bag inside his coat and stood.

"Let's head back to the trading post."

Teague nodded in agreement and the two men started to
head back the way they came, towards the highway.

As
they left the escarpment, Tregarron put his hands in his pocket and
stopped. He felt the necklace and recalled the emptied out bag of
tools.
Someone had
been looking for something
.
He looked around and
felt a growing understanding, his mind raced at the realization, then
he heard a voice.