He could say what he wanted about his men but once Draax told them they were leaving an area, it was all business. They were mercenaries so they generally travelled light. What they didn't have, they stole from travelers or other mercenary groups so it made packing up easy. But they had been in their current hide out for several weeks and their belongings were spread from one end of camp to the other. Regardless, camp was struck and everybody was ready to go in short order. They loitered in a loose group while the few men who had been on guard duty, and were late to hear the news, scrambled to finish packing.
Draax approached the group last. He would always walk around the camp before they left. He liked to make sure that nothing was missed. He didn’t like the possibility that they were leaving anything behind for some other mercenary group to find and use against them. "Good job men. Good job."
"Where we headed Draax?" Frewar asked the question he was sure was on everyone’s mind.
"The Greejon clan is shifting back to Vjeinka Rise. An opportunity for us to stock up on supplies I should think." Draax smiled grimly as he panned his men’s faces.
"And a good chance to get us some of those pretty ladies." Frewar rubbed his aching hands together. Many of the men nodded in agreement.
"Didn't you make a deal to leave that clan alone?"
"Circumstances have changed, Klaine. Lyrell brings us news that Braulor has been caught by the Citadel patrols. I made the deal to leave the Greejon clan alone with him. Now that he is out of the picture, the clan is fair game as far as I am concerned."
Loud cheers followed Draax's declaration. The men had become restless and this was music to their ears. Fighting and killing meant nothing to them and now they were going to get healthy doses of those evils to satiate their hunger.
Draax waited for their revelry to die down, letting them savor the moment. "I know the Greejon clan was readying for their move and I can only assume it is underway. Therefore we will have to take the Infrey Trail to catch up to them."
A stony silence filled the area. The men’s elation of a few moments ago sank like a rock.
"No way." Equal parts of shock and disbelief were clear on Frewar’s face.
The Infrey Trail was a hilly, windy mess that climbed and descended hundreds of feet through the Knalb mountain range. It would cut off a few days journey from the well-travelled Dilphel Road but what it made up in time saving it gave back in danger. If the harrowing trail, only one person wide in many places and barely that in others, didn't get you by throwing you from a cliff with gusting winds, it would bury you in rockslides. Or you would get lost in the thick fog that could settle in for days at a time. It was these types of events that had led to rumors of the trail being haunted. As such, the trail was frequented only by those who didn't want to be seen or found; those that generally travelled alone because they wanted to avoid any encounters with regular folk in the first place. Stories had become more and more frequent of late that those who didn’t want to be found were getting what they wanted from the Infrey Trail, entering to never be seen again.
Draax was the only one of them that had been on the trail. It was when he was a child and had escaped his parents. He had stumbled onto the trail and wandered its length, lost for days. He emerged at the other end of the trail dehydrated and clinging to life but he had made it. The experience hardened him and readied him for the life he was going to lead but nothing he remembered about the trail gave him the opinion it was haunted. To him it was a trail like any other. Traversing it gave him an aura of mystique that helped command respect from his men but that was all it meant to him. However, they didn't have any alternative. If the Greejon clan had already started moving they would have to triple time it to catch up to them using the Dilphel road leaving them exhausted and in no condition to attack a well-stocked and rested clan. Even if the clan hadn't started moving, taking the trail would give Draax and his men the chance to get out ahead of them and set a trap. "That is the way I have chosen. Anyone here care to argue?" Draax menaced his men with the dirtiest scowl he could put in place.
Some shook their heads. Others looked at the ground not venturing a response.
"Good. Then let's move out shall we. Frewar, I want you scouting ahead. Klaine, I want you bringing up the rear."
Men grumbled as they got into formation and they marched out.
Wroan was busy packing his things when Tyran arrived. The front of his tent opened and Tyran entered cradling his right arm, a pained expression on his face. Wroan looked hard at him then put down the herbs he was about to stow and came to Tyran's aid.
"What's happened here?" Wroan helped Tyran to a seat and began peeling away layers of clothes with delicate precision. If he was surprised at the wound on Tyran's shoulder he certainly didn't show it. Wroan had been the clan's healer for as long as anyone cared to remember. He had seen it all so this was nothing new to him. He went about his business not waiting to hear the particulars. After a long look at the exposed laceration, Wroan rummaged around in one of the canisters he had already packed and produced three bags of different herbs. He put them all into a heavy clay bowl and crushed them with an oblong rock pestle. As he did so a sweet aroma escaped the bowl and Tyran inhaled, pulling the refreshing scent deep into his lungs. The scent made him think of high mountain meadows in springtime and he relaxed with a long sigh.
"Looks like an arrowhead did that." Wroan cast a knowing eye on Tyran as he continued to gently work the herbs.
"Ummm. Yeah, it was a hunting accident." Tyran averted his gaze not wanting to meet Wroan’s eyes.
"Doesn't look like an arrow from this camp. Who were you hunting with?"
"Braulor."
Wroan cocked an eyebrow. "Braulor doesn't use an arrow like that. If you’re going to lie about how you were injured, make sure you come up with something better than that." He added drops of water and oil into the herb mixture turning into an orange paste.
"I'm sorry Wroan. I didn’t mean to insult you."
"Not a worry, not a worry." Wroan waved a delicate hand. "I've heard it all before in here. Sometimes men don't want to share how they got injured, hurts their pride too much. That I can’t heal." Wroan chuckled to himself, put his mixing bowl aside and came over to take another look at Tyran's shoulder. He moved Tyran’s arm in different directions, looking and listening as he did so.
"We better clean this up a bit first." Wroan bustled over to his packed gear and produced a cloth. Dipping it in a pot of hot water hovering over the fire, he got it good and wet and then dabbed at Tyran's wound. Tyran grimaced with each dab as spasms of pain crested in waves over him and sagged when the cleaning stopped. Wroan then retrieved the orange past he had created and applied it liberally to the gash on Tyran's shoulder. The pain was gone in moments and a sense of relaxation washed over Tyran.
"Feeling better eh?" Wroan could see relief spreading across Tyran's face.
"That feels incredible." Tyran felt sleepy and watery all at once.
"You'll want to be careful all the same. I can take the pain away but that arm's going to need a lot of mending. That means no hunting.” Wroan emphasized ‘hunting’ with delicate sarcasm.
"I won't be doing that for a while."
"And where is Braulor? I haven't seen him come back to camp." Wroan applied a bandage to Tyran’s shoulder to cover the poultice.
"He’s still out there." Tyran’s hesitation said more than he wanted but he hadn’t readied himself for this question.
Wroan’s brow furrowed as he looked at Tyran. "Anything you want to talk about?"
Tyran sighed and his shoulders sank. "Not really."
"Not really eh? You have my word. Anything you tell me won't go past these old ears."
Tyran paused then started in on the story. How he’d a suspicion that Jolon was up to something and had seen him leave camp. That he went to find Braulor to warn him about Jolon. He told Wroan of the meeting with Alrei Yqu and his request of Braulor to get some boy out of the hands of
the Citadel. Then he spoke of the assassin’s attack on them as they made their way down from the pass and how one of the assassins had escaped them.
Wroan patiently listened, nodding his head here and there and throwing in an occasional ‘hmmm’ at some piece of information he found intriguing, while he continued to work on Tyran’s injured shoulder.
"And then we parted company. Braulor went off toward the Citadel and I came back here."
"And you knew of this Alrei Yqu?" Wroan skipped over the mysterious way Alrei Yqu operated.
"Braulor had told me about him years ago. After their first meeting when Alrei Yqu saved him. I think Braulor wasn't sure if he had imagined the whole thing and he wanted to tell somebody."
"I've heard of beings like this before but only people spotting them though, not communicating with them. You say Braulor's been in regular contact with this being for some time now?" Wroan had long ago chalked those reports up to overactive imaginations and was concerned for Braulor’s mental health.
"I don't know about regular but, yes, he has met with Alrei Yqu on several occasions. He sends Braulor a message by bird when he wants to meet; a big black raven."
They both descended into silence while Wroan digested what he had just been told. Tyran was feeling even better now after getting that off his chest. He felt guilt for betraying Braulor's trust when it came to Alrei Yqu but he was confident that Wroan wouldn't say anything to anyone. Besides, he was concerned about Braulor and scared he would ever see him again. Talking with Wroan lifted some of those fears.
"Well. There's nothing we can do for Braulor now. He chose his path and now he has to walk it. He is resilient Tyran. Strong. Resourceful. I have a feeling we will be seeing him again." Wroan smiled and nodded as if saying it made everything true.
"Now I must finish this packing or I'll be left behind." Wroan laughed to himself as he changed tack.
Tyran thanked Wroan for the medical attention and the old healer only shook his head, not wanting to hear of it. "It's my calling to help people Tyran. Make sure you take it easy with that arm and come see me when we settle at Vjeinka Rise. We can repack that wound."
Tyran stood up and got his clothes back in place then left to search out someone to help him pack up his belongings.
As Tyran marched toward the center of camp, Jolon peeked around the side of Wroan's tent, a wicked smile on his face. "Don't worry Tyran, Braulor's secret is safe with me."
Frewar stopped. As the forward scout he had come across the opening of Infrey trail a few moments ago and now stood, staring into its depths like he was sizing up an adversary. He didn't understand what all the fuss was about. It was a trail like any other. Sure, it would be difficult to traverse, but in the end it was only a piece of earth not unlike any other piece of earth that he had walked on. He could see from here that the trail grew increasingly overgrown as it stretched away into the distance. Thick, scrubby brush grew along the sides and was surrounded by tall trees whose branches hung down along the path like arms ready to reach out and grab anyone who came along.
Frewar shook his head. He was tougher than this. He had been in countless fights and jail cells in his time and nothing had ever scared him before. He had always been braver and stronger than everyone else. This was why he didn't understand the deep sense of foreboding that was oozing down the trail. Like a fog it wafted out of the trail and teased at his senses, mocking him, admonishing him for even having the nerve to look down the path. His stomach felt like he had eaten rocks for breakfast and his feet felt so heavy they might as well be part of the ground. He wondered how he was going to make them function and walk up the trail. Right now he wanted to turn tail and run.
How long he stood there Frewar didn't know. Time seemed to stop before Draax appeared beside him and spoke, breaking the spell. "Good. You found it." And he clapped Frewar on the back. Frewar almost jumped out of his skin but covered it up by reaching for his canteen.
Draax looked at Frewar with a scrutinising eye. Something didn't seem right. If he didn't know better he would think that Frewar was scared but he knew that Frewar was afraid of nothing. He had seen Frewar take on challenges that would make most men quiver at the mere thought of. "You all right Frewar?"
"Of course. You caught me off guard that’s all." Frewar rolled his eyes at his lame excuse and looked away as he took a long drink of water.
"Well, let’s hope you’re more alert than that when you’re on guard duty." Draax turned to the rest of the men. "Ok, were taking a break here. A short break," he noted as several men dumped their packs and looked ready to settle in. "There is a good spot to make camp about two hours into the trail. That's where we stop for the night. And somebody get back and tell the rear guard to hustle up."
The break zoomed by even faster than Frewar had thought possible. The feeling of dread that had scattered when they stopped descended on him anew as Draax called everybody to attention. He thought about pretending something was wrong with his pack as a way to stay behind and then disappear back the way they came. He didn’t have to think long though because that option made him feel like a traitor. He had been with Draax and most of these guys for long years and many battles. They were the closest thing to family that he would ever have.
"Lyrell, I want you to take over the lead." Draax gave Frewar a sidelong glance.
Frewar sighed and closed his eyes feeling like he dodged an arrow.
"Frewar, you’re with me. We need to keep tight. No big gaps between us. Let's move out."
Lyrell took the lead, wincing as he went, ribs still aching from his punishment. He drew his sword and carried it at his side, the muscles in his arm bulging as he squeezed the swords hilt and stepped onto the Infrey trail.
Frewar fell in step behind Draax and had to force himself over the trails threshold and a few steps in the foreboding feeling dissipated. In its place was elation. Not for him for overcoming his fear but coming from the trail, like it was happy that it had a new group of travelers to taunt, new toys to play with. He walked on; all senses alert but found the sense of doom was still there only it wasn’t the same blunt instrument. Now it was like background noise. Like an orchestra of terror that played at the edges of his mind, whispering of dread and other terrible things. Frewar wasn’t sure he could tolerate it but he would have to.
They walked in a quiet line.
Chapter 16