Fool's Errand (32 page)

“No offense taken.” Arreya tossed a knowing smile in the direction of the northerner while playfully twitching her long, black-furred feline rear appendage. “You just keep your mind on the task at hand and off my tail, okay?”

The Qarahni prince actually blushed. Thatcher and Duncan began nudging each other under the table, which just seemed to enhance the reddish hue of the northerner’s face.

“Uh, kids, if you are done flirting with kitten here,” replied Sable, who looked annoyed at the attention Arreya attracted from the males around. “I would say I am not entirely comfortable with the couple of squeakers that managed to get away.”

“You proposing a hunt, Sable?” asked Captain Tropham.

“These mountains aren’t fit for Adami legs, but I can certainly track them, and if Captain Donovan and his remaining nine berserkers are willing, we can head into the mountains and track down the stragglers. Their hideout has to be around here, so we can poke around any holes big enough for horses and see what else we can find. After that, we will head back to Stonehold to rendezvous with the company.”

“Aye, lass,” Donovan nodded in agreement. “It will take Durgak legs to catch the squeakers in the mountains. My men and I are in for the hunt.

“Well that is settled,” said Goldain. “I too will feel better if we can tie up any loose ends. I’ve never liked leaving a live enemy at my back.”

Gideon now pushed past his fatigue and spoke.

“Traitor or not, Xyer Garan was still a lord and a knight of Cyria, and I intend to return him and his belongings to his homeland.”

“Captain,” Duncan objected, “you are in no condition-”

“I also intend,” Gideon interrupted, “to find out more about his betrayal. Melizar has good reason to believe that Garan, Podam, and Rarib all departed Cyria together, and that their treachery had been long in the making.”

“Rarib is in no condition to be questioned now,” said Tropham, “but if he can be taken back to Stonehold, perhaps Duncan, Donovan, and I can try to get some answers out of him in the healing houses there, if he still hasn’t awakened before we are ready to move out.”

“Agreed,” Gideon continued. “We still don’t know why the Parynland shields were in the raider lairs, but given the makeup of the bandits, I’d say there is a definite connection between the raider raids on Rajik, Darkmoor, and Aton-Ri and the attacks on the caravans. Cyrians are very xenophopic, though, so, Duncan, you might want to stay with your brother on this one. Goldain, Thatcher, Melizar, and I will ride on to Cyria, return Garan’s body, and see what we can uncover about the roots of his treachery and this Blue Mystic.

“We will handle the burning of the enemy bodies,” said Tropham. “I know the Durgak have tombs available for situations where allied non-Durgak can be buried.”

“I will speak to the Durgak council,” said Duncan. “I am confident we can gain approval for the internment of the dead in Stonehold.”

“Thank you, Priest Duncan. I will have my men see to the cleanup detail, the removal of the demolished wagons from the trail, and the transport of the dead back to Stonehold. Since several of my living troopers are still in pretty bad shape, we should keep the other hirelings with us as well.”

“Oh no you won’t!” piped a squeaky, girlish voice from outside the tent.

In popped Jeslyn with her hands on her hips and a look on her face like she had just swallowed a toad.

“I came to find out what happened to my father, and whoever is behind these bandits knows that answer. I am going with Captain Gideon. I was born in the saddle and can ride circles around any one of you. If you actually might need to shoot at something while riding, no offense Thatcher, but you don’t seem like you have spent much time on a horse. That heavy contraption of yours is as likely to knock you off one as it is to hit anything while riding.”

Amused smiles crossed all the faces of those assembled except of course for Thatcher who looked as if he were trying to decide whether or not this scrawny youngster had just insulted him. This girl was determined, and truth be told with her being Rajiki, she likely was not exaggerating about her riding and mounted archery skills. Most Rajiki were riding horses before they could walk, and their mobile archers were highly sought as guards and cavalry troops by all the nations of the northwest.

“Okay, kiddo, listen up,” Goldain answered the youngster. “You can come with us because if we didn’t let you, then we likely would have to leave you tied to a tree in the wilderness to keep you from following anyway.”

“You got that right!” snapped Jeslyn.

“This ain’t no kid’s playground though,” Goldain continued. “You come, you keep quiet, and you let us handle the questions and the investigation. I am telling you this for your own good. The first time you lose that little temper of yours and mouth off at the wrong time, I’m gonna tie you, gag you, and stuff you in a burlap sack hung over my saddle, you got me?”

Jeslyn swallowed the lump in her throat as she stared at the northern prince, doubtlessly trying to assess the likelihood that he would actually stuff her into a sack. Gideon could see from her expression she was banking that the odds were fairly good Goldain was exaggerating, but just to be on the safe side, she assented.

 “You got it, big guy. But that don’t mean that when we are off on our own, I ain’t gonna tell you a thing or two if I feel you missed something. And you might not find me as easy to stuff in a sack as you think.”

Gideon guessed the girl had added this last bit of bravado, hoping to sound at least a little menacing. The smiles all around the table showed that everyone knew as well as she did the extent of that bluff.

Thatcher found his mood rapidly souring as he pondered how the spoiled girl had gotten what she wanted. She would be going on with Captain Gideon’s team to Cyria, which meant Thatcher would be stuck around her for another week or more at least. Her little outburst about his riding and shooting ability did little to improve her standing in his eyes.

The plans were all set and underway. Arreya left for Aton-Ri as soon as the meeting broke up. At her speed, she could make Stonehold before dark. They had a couple of hours left before sundown, and Sable wanted to waste no time getting after the runaway Orcs. She and the berserkers, led by Captain Donovan and accompanied by Duncan, were already well into the southern slopes.

The adventurers bound for Cyria stayed and helped Tropham and his men with the overwhelming task of cleaning up after the battle. Thatcher, as inconspicuously as possible, had slipped on his eye patch and was scouring the field of carnage, hoping to find any hidden items, which would emit a bluish aura.

He found and scavenged quite a few coins from the fallen goblinoids, but unfortunately, the only blue items were the massive sword of Xyer Garan and a small circular object on the Cyrian’s chest, beneath his armor. Thatcher knew that there was no way Gideon would allow him to get anywhere close to anything belonging to Garan.

The troopers made sure those heading for Cyria were well stocked with provisions before they left. Gideon said there was a river just after the western end of Dragon Pass, which served as the northern border of Cyria. Refilling water en route would be no problem.

They would head out at dawn and should make the west end of the pass by the end of that day. The journey after that would be another four to five days, depending on the speed of the horses. The bandits’ animals seemed fit and healthy, but Garan’s warhorse, bearing its own heavy barding as well as the body of its former master, would slow them down considerably. A massive, armored courser was great for charging into a hostile force on the field of battle, but was not much use cross-country if speed is the overall goal.

Late into the night, the bonfire for the goblinoid bodies burned brightly. After many tiring hours, the troopers agreed to take the watches so that those traveling the long road to Cyria might get what rest they could. The night was not restful at all for the heroes, however, other than Goldain who snored like a thunderstorm as soon as his head was down for the night. Thatcher mused that a day filled with glorious battle was just the perfect prescription for a good night’s sleep for the Qarahni warrior. Gideon, however, looked restless.

“Captain,” Thatcher whispered to their leader. “Is everything all right?”

“Yes, Thatcher,” Gideon assured him. “Just a mind filled with more questions than answers makes a poor preamble to sleep.”

“Don’t worry, captain. I am sure we will find the answers soon enough.”

“I hope you are right, son. I hope you are right.”

Gideon’s weary eyes closed and Thatcher heard his captain’s breathing steady as Gideon slipped into exhausted, restless slumber.

Thatcher found sleep elusive as well. He lay in his bedroll, tossing in his mind between consternation and ecstasy.

First, what did that skinny little girl think she was doing talking that way about him in front of everyone? Her accusation that he was about as sure on a horse as he might have been riding a rolling barrel down a hill hit too close to home. In all honesty he couldn’t think of any way to reload much less accurately fire his crossbow while staying on said rolling barrel, but still to come out in front of the leaders and lay it all out like that was cruel and demoralizing.

There was something about her though. Despite her sharp tongue, Thatcher liked her spirit, and he supposed that she was kind of cute in a freckly-faced, skinny, arms-and-legs-all-akimbo kind of way. She was kind of like a little sister that he had never had or something. With a few changes, maybe she could even be more.

Enough about that girl though. His ecstasy came from his very first real magical item. He knew Melizar had given it to him in some way as a sort of bribe for his silence, but he also knew the mage’s secret was already out.

Guilt reared its ugly head as he felt, since he had no ability to keep a secret that was already out, he should return the gift and own up. He did save the mage’s life, however, and since that was the official reason Melizar had given him the eye patch, why shouldn’t he keep it? If Melizar lied to him about his intentions, why should he be penalized for that by having to return the gift? Surely, he had done nothing to be deliberately complicit in any lie, and he had earned the gift for the reason it was given. By rights he shouldn’t even be wrestling with this question. So why was he?

The toy already proved its worth. Thatcher had gathered several hundred silver pieces off the bodies of the Orcs. No one else seemed to need them, but then again, there was Gideon’s speech back at the raider lair about helping the victims with the proceeds. He began mumbling to himself as if sounding out his thoughts might help him make sense of them.

“Aw, what was the use of being able to find secret treasure if I am only going to be haunted to give it away?”

He determined that he could wait just a little longer for his fortune and would turn the silver over to Tropham in the morning to help the families of the troopers and berserkers who had given their lives on this journey. What in the world was happening to him? He continued his one-sided conversation.

“First, I give away a tenth of my found treasure in the raider lair. Then my own guild leader kicks the stuffing out of me for not giving half of it to the guild and ends up taking it all anyway. Then, as if that wasn’t bad enough, the ridiculous despot kicks me out of the guild and tells me if I am ever caught practicing my trade in Aton-Ri again it will cost me more than coins, it will cost my life. Now, as if that wasn’t enough, here I am again going to give away
all
of my secret found treasure, which no one has any claim on but me.”

The most disturbing thing of all, however, was that he actually felt good about it.

“I must be losing my mind.”

He ended his monologue on that thought and drifted slowly off to sleep a couple of hours before dawn.

Melizar wondered at the patience of his companions in not pressing him for further explanation. In D’zarik culture, if someone knew something you wanted to know, and you had the ability to make them tell you, then it was a foregone conclusion that it was the right thing to do. These companions certainly were powerful enough and outnumbered him enough to where they could have held him down and torn off his robes and revealed him in all his D’zarik-rooted glory.