Ossendar: Book Two of the Resoration Series (52 page)

“Awake, huh?” Garrick spat the words. “Hurry it up. We don't have all day.”

The second soldier bent over and began loosening the shackles around Derek's feet. Garrick leaned closer, so that his face was just inches from Derek's.

“Told Prince Keenan what I
said,
did you?” His face was a mask of pure fury, but then something else stole over him. “That's okay. I had thought about taking a small measure of revenge, but then I thought better.”

Derek's fears lessened slightly, but a new thought came to him. Could he be taking his revenge on the others? “Garrick,” he asked. “What was I supposed to do?”

Garrick smiled, but it was not a merry smile. “Don't worry about it. I thought about taking some revenge, but why should I? As long as I get to watch them questioning you, then I'll be happy.”

Trying not to appear relieved, Derek felt some of the tension go out of his body. At least, Garrick would not be killing or hurting any of his friends, although that really didn't lessen his apprehension about where they were going. And as to that, where were they going?

“Sir,” The young soldier said, straightening up, “His ankles are loose.”

Without a word, Garrick grabbed Derek's shoulder and drug him to the edge of the wagon and then pulled him off of the wagon head first.

Derek pulled his head upwards, and landed on the ground with his shoulder hitting first. He groaned again, as a shot of pain ripped through him.

Garrick reached down, and grabbed Derek by his right arm, and pulled him to his feet. He leaned close and spoke quietly, “You got ten minutes break to take care of your functions. Don't try to escape.”

At that moment, Derek wanted nothing more than to cut Garrick's throat, well, his first wish was to get his fellow guardians out of this mess. But aside from that, he would settle for sticking a sword into Garrick, a sword, or a knife, or even a sharp stick, anything that made the man bleed.

Garrick shoved Derek roughly toward some pine trees. There was a stretch of them growing along the road, with bushes scattered here and there between them. Looking along the road in the direction they appeared to be headed, Derek tried to see anything that would tell him where he was. But there wasn't much to see, it looked like a swamp. The area was low-lying, with many areas holding water. In fact, the road they were traveling looked like it was little more than a trail. Wherever they were, this road didn't get traveled much. But there was one useful piece of information, judging by where the sun was, they were headed south.

Derek turned his head the other direction, back the way they had came, and stopped walking in spite of himself. He couldn't help it. He had wanted to see all that he could, but not be obvious about it, well, that idea had just flown right out of his mind.

Back the way they had came; he could see the trail stretch back to a large lake. The lake wasn't just large, it was enormous. How long had he been unconscious? The only place that he could think of that was near Delamar was
Fen
Lake
, but that was well south of where they had been ambushed. Besides, there wasn't anything around there but the bogs.

A hard shove from Garrick got him moving again. “You got ten minutes to piss, not to stand around staring.”

“How long have I been unconscious?” He asked.

Garrick grunted, “You don't really expect me to answer. Do you?” He paused momentarily, before continuing, “I mean, you would probably run to Keenan and tell him everything that I said.”

“Is that
Fen
Lake
?” Derek asked, ignoring the sarcasm coming from Garrick.

“Even if it was, I wouldn't tell you.” Garrick snarled. “Now, if you don't have anything to do, we'll be glad to take you back to the wagon.”

Reluctantly, Derek moved into the bushes, he really didn't need the break, but he wasn't ready to go back to the wagon. How long had they been traveling? If that was
Fen
Lake
, then he had to have been unconscious for at least a week or so. How was that possible? There had to be a logical reason for all this, but what was it? Suddenly, his thoughts flashed back to the ambush, and the three he had recognized from Mul-Dune. The woman had to be a magician. Could she have used a spell, or potion, or something to make them sleep. It sounded logical, but if that was the case, then why had she stopped using it?

“Enough!” Garrick called out from behind Derek. The fighter had made sure to stay close, even while Derek was trying to relieve himself. Garrick actually looked disappointed that Derek hadn't tried to run. “Long enough. Let's go.”

Derek noticed something else as he left the trees, the size of their wagon caravan. There were nine covered wagons, each one similar to the one that Derek had been traveling in. There was another twenty or so horses, tied by the reigns to trees or wagons. Their riders had to be the group of men that was stretching their legs at the end of the caravan. Most of them watched Derek as he walked.

On the way back to the wagon, Derek passed Trestus being led in the opposite way. “You okay?” Derek called out, even as Garrick forced him to keep walking.

Trestus nodded, rubbing the back of his head “Yeah, but I got one hell of a headache.”

“No more talking,” one of Trestus' guards called out, shoving the guardian at the same time.

Biting his tongue almost to the point of blood, Derek managed to keep from shouting at the guard. But even as the indignation rose up him, something else did as well, relief. At least Trestus was alive and unhurt.

Reaching the wagon, Garrick pulled back the tarp and shoved Derek roughly up into the wagon. The soldier climbed up behind him, and re-shackled his feet to the metal ring.

“Hungry?” Garrick asked, his outline framed in the light. Another guard had come up, carrying a small plate. Smiling, Garrick flicked the plate at Derek, spilling the contents all over the guardian. Not that there was much, a piece of meat that looked way overcooked, and a biscuit that was rock hard.

Nevertheless, Derek picked the food up and started eating. His stomach seemed completely empty, but he hadn't even noticed until he smelt the food.

Laughing, Garrick dropped the tarp flap.

In the early hours of the morning, Atock leaned against a small pine tree. He had learned a long time ago that if he was tired and on guard duty, then he better be standing. He had his suspicions about that night in the
forest
of
Dalar
. He was afraid that he had fallen asleep on duty, but Flare had claimed to have relieved him. Perhaps, but Atock surely couldn't remember any of the details.

Thankfully, the rain had stopped, but he was still wet. Everything was soaked through and through, and every time he touched something, he just got more wet. Atock rubbed his hands vigorously along his arms. The temperature felt like it was dropping, too.

Raising his hands to his mouth, he blew, trying to warm his fingers. Then he tensed up and started cursing, as the rain drops fell from the tree limbs on his head and down his back. Shivering, he started rubbing the drops off of his neck and he moved away from the tree. He had not gotten more than two steps away, when he froze, peering into the darkness near a small shrub. There wasn't much light from the moon, as the sky was still overcast, but he could quite clearly see two small eyes glowing in the darkness to the left of the shrub.

Still not moving, Atock studied the eyes in the darkness. They were really all that he could see with everything being so dark. He took a step closer, and the eyes turned, just a bit, but he froze again. He stood there for another moment or two, but there wasn't any more movement. Finally, Atock drew both his swords, and rushed forward, trying to surprise whatever was in the bush.

There was a deep growl, and the creature rushed out of the darkness, but strangely, it didn't rush at him, but sideways away from Atock. He turned to follow the creature, and kept his swords pointed directly at it, while it ran around the edge of the small clearing.

The creature ran away from Atock and towards the smokehouse. Suddenly afraid that the creature would get into the shack without him being able to stop it, Atock ran forward, his sword points still tracking the movement of the creature. It was still running around the bushes at the edge of the small clearing. It suddenly changed its direction, and cut through the clearing, heading directly towards the front door. At the last second, it changed course, and dove into a small hole under the porch.

Sighing, Atock had finally got a good look at it. He sheathed his swords, and stepped on to the porch, not even bothering to watch and see if the dog tried to follow him into the house.

Atock pulled the door shut behind him and looked around the cramped hut. As it turned out, Morley had balked at throwing most of his treasures out into the rain. So they had compromised by piling all of the junk into a corner. It was quite easy to see, as they had left a small fire burning in one small corner of the fire pit. The fire was doing its job, as it was noticeably warmer inside than out.

Atock stepped carefully through the small room, trying hard not to step on anyone. Of course Morley had made his bed farthermost from the door. As it was, he almost tripped over Arnok, but he caught himself at the last moment.

Morley's bed was up against the far wall, and resembled an animal's nest more than a bed. He had piled a couple of old holey blankets in the corner, and he had curled up under a blanket that was more hole than blanket.

Atock reached down and shook the old man's foot. “Morley!” He whispered, trying to not disturb the others.

Morley shot straight up into a sitting position, his right hand sweeping around in an arc. “What!”

Atock jumped back, barely avoiding the knife that was in Morley's outstretched hand. He jumped forward as soon as the hand had passed him, and grabbed the old man's wrist. “What's wrong with you?” He hissed, still in a whisper.

Confused and obviously disorientated, Morley blinked in surprise. “What?” He repeated.

Atock forced the old man to drop the knife onto the blanket. “Be quiet!” He whispered, turning to see if they had woke the whole group.

Philip and Arnok were still asleep, but Flare was sitting up, rubbing his eyes, with his hand on his sword hilt. “Everything okay?”

“Yes, go back to sleep.” Atock said quietly. “Everything's fine.” He watched Flare for a moment, who apparently believed him, and after a moment, lay back down.

“What in the name of the abyss?” The old man started, but he stopped quickly at a hiss from Atock. In a much lower voice Morley continued, “Why are you scaring me half to death?”

“Did I hear that you had a dog that was missing?”

Blinking, obviously it was the last thing he had expected to hear, “Yes. Why?”

Atock nodded back toward the front door, “There's a dog out there, hiding under the porch. Didn't like me much and he won't come near me.”

Before Atock had completed speaking, Morley had bounded to his feet and rushed through the packed hut and out the front door. Whereas Atock had been careful not to step on anyone on his way in, the old trapper had not been so careful. He stepped quite hard on Flare's ankle on the way out.

Flare had sat bolt up-right, and he stared right at Atock, both of them cringing. Neither of them had realized that Morley slept in the nude, and now they were both wishing that they had not seen what they had just seen.

Atock, after a moment spent trying desperately to forget the image of the old man running naked through the shack, followed more discreetly. He had paused long enough to pick up the blanket, and by Adel, he meant to see that the old man wrapped it around himself.

Stepping through the front door, he saw a sight that was truly pleasant and at the same time totally horrific. The old trapper, who was completely nude, had knelt down and was fondly petting the large reddish-brown dog. The dog, who apparently did not realize that it's master was dressed inappropriately, was licking it's master's face. It growled as Atock stepped onto the porch.

“Stop that Prince.” Morley's tone was not angry, just instructive. “He's a friend.”

To Atock's surprise, the dog did stop growling, but it continued to watch as the fighter stepped nearer. “Here, old man.” Atock said, handing the holey blanket over. “Cover yourself.”

The old man chuckled, “Embarrassed you. Did I?”

Atock shook his head, “No. Scared me half to death is more like it.” Morley merely scowled at Atock's words, but didn't say anything.

Five days had past since Derek had regained consciousness, and he grew more worried by the day. Oh, he knew that the other guardians were still in good shape, because he had seen each of them at least once. They had passed each other on their escorted trips to the bushes, but after that first day talking had not been allowed. He ought to know, he had taken a spear hard in the back when he had tried to speak to Kara. Nevertheless, he was content, at least they were okay. Now, he just had to find a way to get out this mess before they reached their destination. That was what worried him; Garrick had taken extreme pleasure in describing what was to be done to them. He was not unprepared, his training in the guardians had described the horrors that people could do to others, but he had never expected it to happen to him, or to those that were under his command. The thought of having to watch those he commanded, and cared about, being tortured was more than he could stand. But no matter what he did, no matter what plans he came up with, he couldn't see a way out. So, he had begun praying about the situation.