Chaos Descending (12 page)

He shook the questions from his mind and focused on the task at hand. They had gone out earlier in the day on foot, following the dogs, but now they would need speed. He needed his horse and hoped that Mansel would join him.

“Hello in the house!” Quinn said as he hurried into the little space between Mansel’s cabin and the stable where the horses were kept.

“Quinn?” Mansel said, opening the door to the cabin and peering out. “What’s going on?”

“There’s been an attack. Some type of animals have taken a little girl. We need to help.”

Quinn looked at Mansel, who glanced at Nycol. She stood by him, her hand on his arm, but she nodded encouragingly. Mansel leaned down, kissed her cheek and then came striding from the house.

“You seem fit,” Quinn said as he threw open the stable door.

“I am, thanks to you and Zollin. He healed my arm and head this morning.”

“I’m glad you’re all right. I have a feeling we’re going to need you.”

They saddled the horses as Mansel questioned Quinn about the attack.

“I don’t know what happened exactly, but when I rode out to Zollin’s last night some animals tried to attack me. I got lucky and outran them, but they had me nearly surrounded.”

“What kind of animals attack from all sides?” Mansel asked.

“My thoughts exactly,” Quinn said. “But that’s what happened. Zollin said he’d encountered them too, and that he felt they were magical in some way.”

“Great,” Mansel said.

“Yeah, I’ve kept that little tidbit to myself today. I took some of the men out hunting the creatures. Orvil’s dogs tracked them all afternoon but we didn’t catch sight of them.”

“And now they’ve attacked a little girl?”

“No, not just attacked. Her father was nearby. He said he could hear the girl singing one moment and the next she was just gone.”

“So how do we know it was these magical creatures?” Mansel asked.

“We don’t, but I don’t put much stock in coincidences. And whatever took the girl left blood.”

“So it wasn’t a person?” Mansel said, looking at Quinn.

“I don’t think so,” he replied. “We might have some hope of getting her back alive if it was.”

“Damn!”

The men fell to their work, adjusting straps and making sure that the horses were saddled correctly. The last thing they wanted was to injure one of the horses because they were in a hurry. Nycol came out with Mansel’s weapons. He took the long sword that Zollin had fashioned for him. The weapon had a glossy black stone embedded where the hilt and blade met. Mansel called the sword Death’s Eye, and he was incredibly proficient with it. She also had Mansel’s spear and shield.

“Should I take my bow?” Mansel asked.

“It wouldn’t hurt,” Quinn said. “Some of the locals are good shots, but they’ve never been in a fight.”

“I love you,” Mansel said, as he leaned down in his saddle and kissed Nycol.

“Be safe,” she said. “And you as well, Quinn.”

“Thank you,” he replied. “Sorry to cause so much commotion.”

She nodded but didn’t respond. Quinn led his horse out into the moonlight before climbing into the saddle. When Mansel came out of the little stable he had his sword slung over one shoulder, his bow in his left hand, and a thick quiver of arrows slung from the saddle horn. One arrow was already nocked and ready to draw.

“Good to see you’re prepared,” Quinn said.

“Isn’t that what you taught me?” Mansel said with a grin.

“Damn right.”

They kicked the horses into a canter that took them quickly back into town. The activity around the Valley Inn was impossible to miss. There were dozens of lanterns, yelping dogs, and loud voices, all converging on the open space in front of the inn.

“Who’s in charge?” Quinn shouted as he reined up in front of the group of men.

Most of the townsfolk looked to Quinn in moments of emergency, not that there had been many since he’d returned to the small village. But he was a decisive man who kept his wits about him in times of crisis. There were other able leaders in the village, though, and Quinn had no intentions of taking the hunt slowly.

“I am,” said Bilburr. He was a farmer, but the townsfolk all respected him.

“Good, take the group out and follow the trail. Mansel and I are riding ahead of you.”

“Don’t you think we’d be better off to stay together?” Bilburr asked.

“Not if we want to save the girl. Chances are she’s gone already, but if there’s any hope of finding her before whatever took her kills her, then we need to move as quickly as possible. Mansel and I will do that. You all come along behind us.”

“All right,” Bilburr said. “Be careful, Quinn.”

“I will be. Can you spare some torches?”

Buck hurried forward with two long-handled torches. He handed one to Quinn and the other to Mansel.

“Good luck,” he said.

“Thanks,” Quinn said turning his mount and urging it forward.

“Did you notice that Kurchek was with the hunting party?” Mansel asked as they rode toward the edge of town.

“I did,” Quinn said. “That’s another reason for us to split up, but I didn’t see any sense explaining that to Bilburr.”

They rode quickly to Vickry’s home. It was a nicely built structure, with a low, thatched roof and a wide door. Quinn could hear Vickry’s wife and other children weeping inside. The mother was wailing and the sound made Quinn’s heart ache. He knew the pain of loss. Quinn's wife had died shortly after giving birth to Zollin, and Quinn’s grief had nearly killed him. If not for the constant need to care for a newborn, Quinn had no doubt that he would have given up completely.

They rode around the small home and held their torches low, looking for any sign of what had taken the little girl. The blood was still wet and plentiful enough that it was impossible to miss, but not enough to know for sure if the girl was dead or alive.

“Looks bad,” Mansel said.

“It is bad,” Quinn agreed. “But we should be able to follow the trail easily enough.”

“So what are we waiting for?”

“Something isn’t right.”

“Of course not, a little girl has been taken,” Mansel said. “I thought we needed to find her as quickly as possible.”

“Just wait a second,” Quinn said. “I don’t think we can continue to think about these creatures as if they’re just animals. Zollin said he got the impression they were intelligent. They set a trap for me last night, eluded us all day, and now they leave a trail that any fool could follow.”

“You’re saying you think this is a trap?” Mansel asked incredulously.

“I think it could be.”

“So what do we do?”

“We could set our own trap.”

“You want to try and trap the creatures?”

“No, don’t misunderstand. I’m not saying I want to set traps for them, but what if we douse these torches, find a place to watch from outside the village, and then wait to see what happens when the search party follows the trail.”

“If the beasts are waiting for us to rush blindly down their path, we might be able to surprise them,” Mansel said, seeing the wisdom in the plan. “But what about the girl?”

“Well, there is one other option. It’s faster but more risky.”

“What?”

“I could ride down the trail, move fast, see what happens. You could cover me from the dark.”

“What could I do if you’re attacked?” Mansel asked.

“Just cover me with your bow. That should be enough. If I get into trouble you can ride to the rescue.”

“That’s a ridiculous plan,” Mansel said.

“But its the only chance we have of saving the little girl.”

“I’m not willing to risk you for the girl,” Mansel said. “She’s probably dead already.”

“So we’ll wait for the hunting party,” Quinn said.

“I could follow their trail,” Mansel volunteered.

“I can’t cover you with that bow the way you can,” Quinn said.

Mansel looked distressed, which wasn’t what Quinn wanted, but he needed Mansel to come to the same decision Quinn had. The only option that could possibly save the girl meant risking Quinn’s life. He had no problem with that, but if he died, he didn’t want Mansel to struggle with guilt or feel that had made the wrong decision. Every second they waited made Quinn’s stomach twist with fear that the little girl was dying and that they would be too late, but he felt that a few moments spent to clear Mansel’s conscience was worth it.

“Fine,” Mansel said, handing Quinn his torch. “But don’t go too fast. And give me a minute to get ready.”

“I will,” Quinn said. “Don’t shoot me.”

“Don’t get eaten before you become a grandfather.”

“Good advice,” Quinn said.

Mansel turned his horse and rode off into the darkness. Quinn waited as long as he dared and then started down the trail. The blood stood out on the ground. There were splashes of glossy red blood every five or six yards, allowing Quinn to follow the trail at a fast trot. He looked up occasionally, but the light from his torches made the darkness beyond impenetrable.

He had gone nearly a mile from the village when he finally saw the girl, but his horse was struggling to turn back and Quinn was certain the creatures were waiting to attack. Quinn fought the horse, taking both torches with one hand and yanking the reins with the other. The little girl was unconscious but Quinn thought he saw her chest moving. There was a dark patch of blood around her.

“Laney!” Quinn shouted.

He heard the snarl just before he saw the flash of white fur looming up out of the darkness. He swung the torch but he wasn’t fast enough. The creature bit hard into Quinn’s forearm just as the horse bolted. Quinn didn’t have time to pull his spear from the harness beneath his saddle before he fell. The only thing that registered in his mind before he smashed hard into the ground were the sounds of more snarling animals rushing in for the kill.

Chapter 12

Lorik stood up slowly and turned around. He had been staring into the fire and his swords were propped against the stone hearth, but he made no attempt to take them up. Instead he raised his hands in surrender. The soldiers looked unsure of what to do; they had clearly been expecting a fight. And there was no sound from the small bedroom where Vera and Stone were supposed to be sleeping. Lorik was certain they weren’t asleep and for the briefest of moments he even considered the possibility that Stone or Vera had betrayed him to the soldiers, but he dismissed that fear just as quickly as it entered his mind.

“We’ve orders to take you to Ort City,” said one of the soldiers.

“Good,” Lorik said. “That's where I want to go.”

The soldiers looked surprised again. They had expected a fight, but Lorik seemed content and not in the least belligerent.

“We’re going now!” the soldier said, his voice much too loud for the little room. Lorik thought the man sounded scared.

“In the middle of the night?”

“That’s right,” the soldier said. “I said we’re leaving and that’s that.”

“Great. I’m packed, and I couldn’t sleep anyway.”

He hefted his pack, still not touching his swords. The soldiers looked uncertain, but Lorik gave them no reason to think he was a threat and they slowly began to relax. Lorik smiled and waited patiently, knowing that it would do him no good to attack the soldiers. They were just doing what they were told, and after giving a lot of thought to how he would go about removing Yettlebor from the throne, he had decided that his best bet would be to win the loyalty of the army. Yettlebor, as Lorik remembered him, was a pompous ass. His troops bypassed him even when he was just a general, preferring to take their reports and concerns to a subordinate. If Lorik could ingratiate himself with the army, he would most likely win their loyalty and then the entire situation in Ortis would change. Yettlebor might be in control of Ort City, but if his soldiers joined Lorik, then he would have to give up his absurd claim to the throne.

“I hope you have horses, or at least a wagon,” Lorik said.

“Of course we have horses,” the soldier said.

“Good, then I’m ready when you are.”

“You aren’t going to fight us?”

“Why would I? We want the same thing. Besides, I would have to be daft to take on a group of well trained soldiers like you.”

“That’s right,” the soldier said.

He was clearly in charge of the small band. There were only a dozen of the soldiers from what Lorik could see. Four were in the small cottage, and several more were waiting outside. They all had their weapons drawn, but none of them looked keen for a fight.

“So we can go,” Lorik said.

He stepped forward and the soldiers tensed. Lorik was a big man, even without the magic the Drery Dru had instilled in him, which had made him look like the image of a god. His shoulders were thick with muscle, his legs almost as large as tree trunks. He wasn’t as well defined as he had been when under the influence of the elvish magic, but he was in good shape, with hardly any fat on his large frame. The solders were adults, but most were young men, and none even came close to Lorik’s size. It was natural that he made them nervous, even without a fearsome reputation.

“You men have nothing to fear from me,” he said.

“Good, you’ll be better off that way. Tie his hands,” the soldier ordered.

“Is that really necessary?” Lorik asked.

“It is if I say it is,” the soldier insisted.

Lorik thought the soldier sounded a little like a petulant child but he didn’t resist. Instead, he stuck his hands out, holding the wrists close together.

“Should I tie them behind his back?” asked the soldier who had pulled a length of rope from his belt.

“That will only make it harder for him to ride,” the soldier in charge said. “Tie ‘em in front, and let’s get moving.”

Lorik was patient, letting the soldier tie him up. The man had no experience with rope. Lorik had spent years as a teamster, learning the trade from his father and he was proficient in tying knots. The mess that the soldier made wouldn’t last long, but Lorik reminded himself that he was going to earn the soldiers trust and he wouldn’t do that by breaking free of their pitiful bonds.

He cast one look at the door that led to the other room. He could see that it was open just slightly. There was no light in the room, no noise. He guessed there was no reason to expect that there might be someone else in the cottage, although if the soldiers had really been watching Stone, they should have known he and Vera were inside. Perhaps it was the surprise of not being challenged that made them forget about the owners of the little house. Either way, Lorik was glad his friends hadn’t also been detained. He knew Stone could handle himself in a fight, but he didn’t want to see either of them mistreated on his behalf.