The Fur Trader (14 page)

“Rubbish!” the woman said. “There are none in this world who can befriend a split-tail. Wizards have tried it for centuries, but never with any success unless the animal’s brain is turned to mush and they became like zombies. You must have done something.”

“I found them when they were young. I raised them up. I wouldn’t say they think of me as their mother, but we have an understanding. They hunt with me, and we keep each other safe, but they are free to do as they please. They sleep outside, and can roam wherever they wish. They are not my pets, they are my friends.”

“We’ll see about that,” the woman said. “As you no doubt understand by now, I have quite a range of magical abilities. One of my specialties is charms. The black furred split-tail is now under my control.”

“Do you mean you hurt her?” Garrin asked quickly. “You said it couldn’t be done without destroying their minds.”

The woman smiled and flicked Garrin’s nose with a finger. “So, you
do
care for them then.”

“Release her,” Garrin said. “Kiska has done nothing more than track a horse thief.”

The woman’s smile turned to an angry scowl and she thrust her hand downward. Garrin plummeted to the ground and was pinned in a kneeling position to the stone. “The horses are mine!” the woman snarled. “Now, we shall see if your friendship is as you claim. My charm will not hurt the animal, unless I maintain it for a long period of time. However, it is strong enough to make sure any control you held over the animal is gone. Now, she is under my control, and will obey my orders.”

“I never controlled her,” Garrin said through gritted teeth.

“If the split-tail spares you, then I will allow you and the animals to leave.”

“Spares me?” Garrin repeated. He looked up and saw Kiska stalk into view from around the back of the stone chair. Her teeth were bared and her head was hung low as she growled at Garrin. The trapper looked at the split-tail in horror.

“If you are friends, then your bond should be enough to overcome my charm.”

“Why are you doing this?” Garrin asked.

“It’s the only way I can be sure you aren’t using magic.”

“What difference does it make?” Garrin asked.

The woman didn’t answer. She flung her cloak about and sat in the stone chair and snapped her fingers. Kiska moved in closer, growling and snarling horribly. The animal came in close, her hackles up and her claws teasing out from her paws as she approached.

Garrin locked eyes with her. “Kiska, it’s me. Come on girl, we don’t need to fight each other.”

Kiska snapped her maw and her teeth clicked as she barked viciously. She came in fast, looking as though she would not stop. There was nothing for Garrin to do. He watched as his most trusted friend came toward him. The trapper whistled sharply with a low note followed by an extremely high note. That was his normal call when he was looking for the split-tails, or wanted them to come to him. It was all he could think of as Kiska came in toward his throat.

Just as the teeth came in and touched Garrin’s skin, Kiska froze in place. Garrin at first thought that perhaps the split-tail was caught in a magical spell, but he soon realized that it was quite the opposite. The woman’s mouth dropped open and she lurched forward in her chair, one hand on her chest and the other gripping the arm of the stone chair. It took a couple of seconds, but Kiska pulled her head back and closed her mouth. Her eyes locked once more with Garrin’s and appeared much softer than before.

Garrin smiled. “Thanks, girl,” he offered.

Kiska barked suddenly and turned upon the woman with the red hair. The woman’s face blanched and she quickly held her arms up in protest. “Can it be?” she asked in wonder. She snapped her fingers and Garrin was freed. He groaned and struggled to catch himself before toppling to the ground. Kiska lunged at the woman, however the animal only crashed into the stone chair as she coursed through the woman’s body.

The sorceress rose from her seat and backed away from Kiska as the animal prepared to lunge again. Just at that moment, Rux came into view and the woman gasped. They both lunged.

The sorceress floated up into the air, just out of reach. She spread her arms out to the sides and a flash of light burst through the chamber. Garrin raised his hands to shield himself for the flare and had to turn away as a wave of heat rolled over him.

“As agreed, you are free to go,” the woman said in a thunderous voice from above.

When Garrin looked again he saw that the woman’s face and eyes were radiant, glowing even, as she floated above them. The trapper called Kiska and Rux to him with a sharp whistle. The animals obeyed, but kept their eyes locked upon the sorceress. “And the horses?” Garrin asked.

“The horses are mine,” she said.

“How can they be yours?” Garrin asked as he rose to his feet. “They belong to the nobles from Richwater.”

The woman sneered and cackled as small bolts of yellow lightning flashed out from her sides and ended in puffs of smoke. “Take a close look at those horses. They are born and bred from the mountains. That is why they can make this journey so well. They may have come from stables in Richwater, but the Winterdell horses, as they were called in my day, were stolen from my people by those that destroyed our civilization.”

Garrin looked around the cave, looking for any clue as to what civilization the woman might be speaking of. There was nothing unusual, save for the floating crystals that bathed the cave in light. As if reading his thoughts, the woman descended gently toward him.

“I am the last of the Punjak people. We once ruled much of the mountains here, many centuries ago. As others moved into the valley in the south, we were forced deeper into the mountains. Our enemies overpowered us. However, before my people were destroyed, there was a prophecy made. The prophecy said that when a pair of Winterdell horses returned to their home, the one who would unite the crystals would appear. This person would use the crystals to vanquish our greatest foe, and exact revenge for the innocent who were murdered in their beds.”

Garrin scrunched up his brow and shook his head. “I don’t understand.”

“It was said that this person would be accompanied by two split-tails as companions, and that they would obey him as their alpha. This is why I tested you. I wanted to see if you were he who was named in the prophecy, or another pretender.” The woman folded her arms and the glowing aura around her dimmed to a more comfortable level as she locked eyes with Garrin. “There have been many who have come here in years past, seeking the crystals. I already mentioned that there were some who controlled split-tails with magic that addled their minds. Those imposters were destroyed. You, however, have passed the test.”

Garrin shook his head again. “I didn’t come for a test. I came only to save my friends, and if possible, retrieve our horses.”

The woman shook her head. “The prophecy is clear. In trade for the crystals, I must keep the horses. The pair of Winterdell horses will carry me to my next home in the plane of the dead. I will give you the crystals, and you shall triumph over the traitors who murdered my people.”

“This is madness,” Garrin blurted out. “I am no longer a soldier, and I can’t use magic crystals even if I was. I am traveling through the mountains. That is all.”

The woman smiled softly and bent in. She pressed her warm lips to his right cheek and gave him a soft kiss. The woman then floated up and over to the horses. The Winterdell horses began to whinny excitedly and their eyes emitted a strange, green glow. The woman turned back and snapped her fingers. One by one, the crystals in the air broke from their places and merged with each other. Each time two of the crystals touched, they popped and sizzled as though they were logs in a roaring fire. More than that, each time the crystals joined, the light became brighter and warmer.

“You must take the crystals,” the woman said. “It is your destiny.”

Within moments, all of the crystals had pressed into one long, red crystal that looked as though it had been cut and polished by a fine jeweler. The red crystal hummed and floated down to Garrin’s hand. He reached out, almost against his will, and took the item in hand.

“Avenge the Punjak!” The horses cried out loudly, rearing up in the air and then charging toward the far wall. The woman was now riding in a chariot of fire behind the horses. A great ball of green fire erupted in the stone wall and the woman drove the chariot straight through it. The ground shook as the portal closed and the ceiling began to quake and crack.

Kiska and Rux looked around nervously. Garrin tucked the warm crystal into a pouch on his belt and ordered the split-tails to run. He turned to follow them, but noticed that there was another horse near where the other two had been.

“There had been three,” Garrin reminded himself as he remembered the tracks leading to the cave. He ran to the remaining horse, a black mare with a diamond shaped patch of silver on its head. He wasn’t sure why this horse remained, perhaps because it was not the same kind, or maybe she needed a specific pair to traverse the portal she had opened. Whatever the reason, Garrin didn’t care. His only thought was to escape the crumbling cave.

Even from within the pouch, the red crystal illuminated the cave. It was a softer light now that the crystal was concealed, but it was enough for Garrin to navigate by. He leapt atop the horse and galloped out as fast as the horse could carry him.

No sooner had he escaped from the tunnel, then it collapsed entirely behind him, showering the outside area with dust and shards of stone.

To Garrin’s satisfaction, Kiska and Rux were already waiting for him by a lone pine tree.

“Let’s get back to the others,” Garrin said. He cast a glance back to the collapsed cave, marveling at what had just happened, and wondering whether there was any truth to what the woman had said, or if perhaps it was just the ramblings of a lunatic hermit.

Three men in forest green cloaks pulled their horses up to the Sockeye Tavern. One of them, a heavily bearded man with angry brown eyes, spat on the ground before dismounting and nodding his head toward the door. The other two men with him glanced over their shoulders and then followed the first.

Their thick boots fell heavily upon the wooden floor as they pushed their way through the doorway and surveyed the room. A handful of men sat at tables playing cards and drinking from mugs. Five people danced in the middle of the floor near a large stone fireplace while a fiddler set his bow to his instrument and bobbed up and down wildly to his own jig. A layer of slowly circulating smoke hung in the air, built up after hours of patrons sucking upon their pipes.

“Can I help you gentlemen?” a voice called out over the din.

The bearded man turned to see a stout woman with long, golden hair behind the bar. She smiled warmly and pulled up three mugs in anticipation of an order. The bearded man glanced to his compatriots and offered a wry smile before heading off toward the bar.

“Ale,” he said dryly as he leaned to one side and swung his leg up over the barstool he chose. The other two sat flanking him, swiveling their heads around and searching the tavern silently.

“Not from the mountains eh?”

The bearded man looked at the barmaid and put on as gentle of a smile as he could muster. Based upon her underwhelming response and her narrowing eyes, the smile had apparently fallen far short of its mark. The bearded man reached out and swept the mug away from the barmaid the instant it was full, forcing her to pull back quickly to avoid spilling. Her brow scrunched up and she looked to the other two, then back to the bearded man.

“I don’t want any trouble,” the woman said. “We are simple folk here, and we run a simple life.”

The bearded man sneered and put the mug up to his mouth. He pulled a half mouthful of the amber liquid in over his tongue and swished it around. His eyes remained locked with hers until he set the mug down on the bar.

“We’re searching for someone,” the bearded man said in a gruff voice. “Perhaps you saw them come through here.”

The barmaid wiped a spot of liquid that had sloshed out of the mug and broke eye contact with the bearded man. “We get travelers from time to time, though not as many in the winter of course,” she replied.

The bearded man smiled wide and reached out to grab the woman’s hand. She jumped slightly at the touch, but he held her fast. “You would recognize these two. A nobleman and a child. They would have come through here just a couple of days ago at most.”

The barmaid glanced nervously to her hand and back up to the bearded man. Her brown eyes were wide with terror and her arm was trembling. “Not sure I recall anyone like that,” she said in a shaky voice.

“Why is it always the same?” the bearded man asked. “What do you owe them? Why would you cover for a criminal?” The woman stopped shaking and tried more forcefully to pull her arm back. The bearded man would not let her go. “The nobleman stole the child,” he said after a while.

The woman seemed to relax, just for an instant. That was all the bearded man needed to see. It was a minute tell, but to him it was the same as if the woman was shouting that she had in fact seen them. No woman could resist the innate motherly nature that made up her core, he knew. That was a woman’s weakness. Tell a good woman that a child was in danger, and you may as well have put a truth spell on them. They always cave after that.

“You saw them,” the bearded man said. “Tell me where they went, and there won’t be any trouble. It is imperative that we find the criminal and safely return the child.”

Just then, a tall man with sandy brown hair walked into the bar area from a swinging door that apparently led into the kitchen area. He wiped his large hands on the front of his tan apron absently and then stopped when he spotted the bearded man holding the barmaid’s hand.

“Jinny, is this man bothering you?” he asked. He stepped in, not waiting for the answer, and went to grab the bearded man’s hand.

The bearded man pointed his left index finger at the tall man and an invisible force knocked him backward into the wall. He struck hard, his head cracking against the corner of a shelf, dropping the man, as well as a few bottles of alcohol, to the floor in a cacophony that brought silence to the rest of the tavern.

The two men flanking the bearded men rose to fend off a number of patrons who were now rising to their feet and staring at them.

The bearded man arched a brow at the barmaid. “Jinny, is it?” he asked. The woman nodded her head. “Ask the others to sit down.”

The woman’s nervous eyes flicked out toward the crowd, and then back to the man holding her hand on the bar. Then she turned and looked down at the tall man upon the floor. With strength she had not hitherto had, she yanked her arm free and went to the man, cradling his head in her lap and fussing over a small cut in the back of his head.

“Alright,” the bearded man said. “We’ll do it the hard way.” He pushed back from his stool and turned to face the others. “My name is Seidrif. I am an agent of the king. He has sent me to find a nobleman who kidnapped a child. Your cooperation would be most appreciated, but it is not necessary that you willingly oblige. Though, I must warn you, if you attempt to resist, I will make you pay dearly for it.”

The bearded man pointed to the tavern’s door. A loud crackle ripped through the silence and a strange, yellow layer of light covered the door. A few of the patrons jumped at the sight of the spell. Seidrif could tell by their reactions that there were no wizards among them. These were simple mountain folk.

“These are my brothers, Bolgrif and Hagrif,” Seidrif said as he indicated the two flanking him. As if on cue, the two brothers waved their arms. A wind rushed through the tavern, extinguishing candles and lanterns and even cowering the fire in the hearth. A few of the patrons shivered and huddled together in the darkened space. A second later a flash of silvery light streaked across the ceiling and then froze in place as frost crystals creaked and cracked, extending down each limb of the still glowing lightning that was now suspended eerily above the tavern patrons.

“As you can see, we are wizards. To cross us would not be wise,” Seidrif said. “Now, I want to ask once more, has anyone here seen a nobleman passing through with a child?”

The crowd stared at Seidrif, all except for the few that glanced to each other nervously. No one said anything.

Seidrif sighed and turned his attention back to the barmaid while his brothers faced the crowd. He placed his left palm down on the bar and leapt over to the other side more gracefully than a man of his height should have been able to, his green cloak flowing behind him.

“Don’t hurt my husband,” the barmaid said as she clutched the unconscious man’s head closer to her chest. “He was only protecting me.”

Seidrif smiled, but this was not his fake smile where he pretended to be nice. No, this was his self-pleasured smile that came in anticipation of what was to come. He might put on a show about not liking the hard interrogations, but truth was there were few things he liked more. “Jinny, dear,” he said as he folded his arms across his chest. “This is your last chance to tell me what I want to know.”

“I haven’t seen anyone like who you described,” Jinny said firmly. Her voice was too decisive. Her previous fear and trepidation was replaced by courage born of self-righteousness. She believed she was protecting the child.

Seidrif waved his hand and a great, invisible force slammed into Jinny, causing her to tumble over her husband and out from behind the bar.

Behind him, Seidrif heard a few people try to step in, but he didn’t look to see what was happening. His brothers could handle this lot. A moment later, there were pained snarls as lightning flashed through the tavern. Heavy thumps sounded in the room amidst gasps of horror.

“No one moves, or they will end up like those two,” Hagrif barked.

Seidrif smiled wide and knelt next to Jinny’s husband while he kept his eyes trained on the woman, who was only just now recovering and starting to push herself up from the floor.

“Please, leave him be!” Jinny pleaded.

Seidrif touched his right index finger to the unconscious man’s body and it rose up, rubbing along the wall until the top of the man’s head touched the ceiling high above the floor. The man’s feet dangled, waving slightly back and forth as Jinny put a hand to her mouth and made a sound that was something between a squeak and a scream.

“Where did they go?” Seidrif asked.

“STOP!” a voice shouted out from behind. “I will tell you where they went, just leave Mr. Perkins and his wife alone.”

Seidrif turned around to see a man pushing his way through the crowd. The man appeared to be in his late twenties, with black hair and icy blue eyes. The bearded wizard left Mr. Perkins suspended in the air and nodded to the young man.

“Where did they go?” Seidrif asked.

“They were going out to the north west, over Geberron pass,” the man said.

“No they weren’t,” another man shouted. “They were headed north, into the foothills.”

Seidrif narrowed his eyes on the newcomer. He was definitely a mountain man. His appearance was rugged and stern, and his clothes spoke of experience trapping and hunting. The bearded wizard wasn’t sure which of them was telling the truth.

“What’s your name?” Seidrif asked the younger man.

“I am Brent, Brent Smygle,” the man answered.

“You say they are heading over Geberron Pass?”

Brent nodded. “As sure as the sun that is what I heard them say.”

“You are a fool, Smygle,” the rugged man said gruffly. “Why lie to these men? You see the power they can wield. Besides, nobody will believe that a nobleman, or anyone with half a brain for that matter, would dare go over Geberron Pass in the winter. Most can’t even cross it in the summer. It’s too dangerous.” The rough mountain man looked to Seidrif and held his hands up. “Please, don’t punish us on this idiot’s account. The two you seek went north. Said they were going to hide in the foothills.”

“You’re sure?” Seidrif asked.

The mountain man nodded. “Unlike this beardless twit, I was actually speaking with them. They wanted to hire me as a guide.”

“Describe them,” Seidrif told the mountain man.

The man nodded. “The nobleman was about five foot seven. Maybe mid-forties. A bit hard to tell exactly how old he was. His eyes were a gray-blue. His skin was light, like he never spent much time outside. The boy with him was maybe thirteen or fourteen. He was somewhat on the thin side, but normal height for his age I reckon. Sand-colored hair with a dusting of freckles across the cheeks and nose.”

Seidrif nodded. “Why did you turn them down?” he pressed.

“I hire out as a guide sometimes to city folk, but never in winter. I trap in the winter, and I am not about responsibility for anyone else up in these mountains. The forest is not very forgiving.”

“He’s lying, they went northwest toward Geberron Pass!” Brent cut in.

Seidrif took in a breath. He stepped out around the bar and moved toward the two men with deliberate, slow steps. The mountain man showed confidence and stood firm. The other shrank away, with hands trembling at his sides. Seidrif knew how to ensure the truth. It was a bit cruel, but he had never found a coward he couldn’t crack even if they were the best of liars. The mountain man on the other hand, was too confident. Likely hardened by the wilderness, he would be much harder to break. Seidrif chose the easy route. It would produce results quicker.

“I believe you,” Seidrif told the mountain man. “Thank you for your help.”

“You’re welcome, now can we be let go please?” the man asked.

Seidrif raised his hand and focused his power. A great
whoosh
of air erupted out and snatched the mountain man. He flew up, flipping end over end until he slammed into the far wall with enough force that the entire building shook and the nearby window cracked. The body slowly slid down the wooden wall, leaving a streak of crimson blood until the corpse ended in a jumbled pile on the floor.

“You said you believed him!” Brent squeaked.

Seidrif nodded, but did not directly answer Brent’s question. To do so would be to allow the small man some semblance of control over the interrogation. The bearded wizard pointed a finger to Brent and the man floated up into the air.