M. Mathias: Through the Wildwood

Duke Martin looked down at the priest and considered him. Remembering that he was a personal spiritual advisor to his wife, he chose to agree. He didn’t want to suffer any more embarrassment than he already had. His whore of a wife had all but ruined him. He couldn’t wait to come up with a way to rid himself of her without drawing suspicion or breaking his daughter’s heart.

Turning to Coll, who stood behind his chair, dressed in a black robe trimmed in scarlet, Duke Martin spoke a quiet command. Coll nodded and began urging the hunters out of the room with the promise of a hot meal and cool ale to keep them occupied. High Commander Aldine looked at the duke askance, awaiting a command.

Duke Martin saw this and let loose a sigh of contempt. Obviously the commander hadn’t gotten the hint for his need of privacy. “Commander, I want supplies ready for the- ah-.” He glanced at Orphas. “Ah- for the undertaking we were just speaking of. Round up animals, gear, and provender.” He paused to let the man nod his understanding, and then continued. “See to it personally. I will come down and inspect your work with the mountain man after I dine. Oh, and if you don’t mind, Commander, would you have one of your men place the head of that bandit who wandered in yesterday up on the gate.”

“As you command,” Commander Aldine said, letting a bit of contempt reflect in his own voice. The tone was lost on the duke, but Orphas heard it plainly.

As soon as the door closed behind the commander the duke let out a long, hissing breath of air. “What has my troll of a wife done now?”

“Your perception is to be admired, my lord,” Orphas said, somewhat mockingly. “She confessed to me just hours ago before seeking the safety of the temple’s inner sanctum.” Orphas scratched his chin and looked at the vaulted ceiling. He did this to make himself seem hesitant and unsure. “It seems she-uh-she-”

“Out with it, man. Speak,” the duke snapped. His face was reddening as Orphas went on.

“My lord, a woman’s confession is sacred to the discretion of her priests, but since you’ve ordered me to tell you, I cannot disobey.”

Orphas met the red-faced duke’s eyes and held them. “In secret, your wife sent your daughter away with the caravan that left this week past. Gallarael was to make sure a certain slave was purchased and freed once they arrived at the market.”

“You’re telling me Gallarael was on that caravan?”

“That’s what your wife told me.”

The duke let out a howl so loud and full of hatred that it chilled Orphas to the bone.

After seeing the strange wolf rider, the traveling grew tense. Vanx, Trevin, and Darbon kept arrows to their bow strings, leaving Matty to keep Gallarael in the haulkatten’s saddle. Vanx rode the horse at the lead. Trevin and Darbon shared the younger of the haulkattens at the rear. Trevin rode backward. It was awkward but served to keep him from having to crane his neck around trying to see what was behind them.

They went as quickly as they could travel through the forested terrain without wearing down the animals. Not quite relentless, the pace was constant, and the few breaks they took were quick and purposeful. They rested longer in the afternoon so that Matty could tend Gallarael’s personal needs. While they waited, Vanx scaled a tall red fur and scouted the way ahead and behind them.

There wasn’t much to see either way, save for the otherworldly scape of the treetops. A rolling sea of green peaked occasionally by a towering pine spread out endlessly around them, except for the dark, jagged peaks that still loomed up behind them to the northwest. There were a dozen birds wheeling and circling over a dark cut in the trees that might be a river basin up ahead. A thin grey cloud of fire smoke clung to the treetops a dozen miles behind, letting him know that they were most likely still being watched.

Vanx wondered why no move had been made to attack them. They were outnumbered. The watchers had been in close enough to examine their party during the day. Vanx not only saw them a few times, but he smelled the musk of the wolves the strange Kobalts rode.

None of it made any sense, he decided, as he made his way down from the treetop. He found no reason to turn back. Gallarael’s life might be dependent on them getting to Dyntalla swiftly. All they could do was be alert and ready to defend.

“I saw what might be a stream bed a few miles ahead of us,” Vanx told Trevin and Darbon before he leapt the last few feet to the ground. “We could fill our skins and wash off the dust then find a place to stop for the night.”

“Stop?” Darbon asked with confusion and fear showing plainly in his expression.

“If they wanted to take us, Darby, they could do so anytime they like.” Trevin gave a dry chuckle. “Why they haven’t yet is a mystery to me. We are at their mercy.”

Vanx nodded his agreement. “We need rest. The animals need rest. Maybe they are going to let us pass. Like Trevin said, they could take us if they wanted to. There’s no sense stumbling around in darkness.”

“Maybe we’re not a threat to them?” Trevin showed his agreement with Vanx. He gave Darbon a pat on the shoulder and went to help Matty get Gallarael back in the saddle.

The cut in the trees Vanx had seen was indeed a waterway. A stretch of sun-bleached grey rock with a fairly shallow, yet briskly flowing stream ran through the forest like a giant snake. They filled their skins and ate some dry meat. With Matty’s help, Trevin gave Gallarael’s body a good cleansing, and then they dressed her in some of the hauler’s loose-fitting garments. Matty washed the filth out of Gallarael’s other clothes, thus making the decision for all of them that a fire would be lit when they stopped for the night.

When they were finally mounted and moving again, the sun was beginning to sink behind the mountains. It was then that the strangest thing happened.

As they started through the stream, a trio of wolf-riding Kobalts appeared directly across from them. One of them was a bit larger than the other two. This one wore a bandolier-like sash of some reddish-brown-colored animal pelt across his upper body. He eased his wolf out of the tree line into the open and paused there. The Kobalt’s small, furred ears twitched and he sniffed cautiously at the companions. The low growl of the haulkatten rumbled behind Vanx and he silently hoped that the big cats would stay in line. He was sure that any wrong move could provoke an attack that would end all of their lives. His horse sensed his unease, and he felt it stomp and shudder beneath him.

The Kobalt wearing the sash pointed downstream and gave a harsh, barking grunt.

“There are more of them behind us, Vanx,” Trevin called from the rear. “A lot more of them.”

“I think they want us to go downstream,” Vanx called back. “What do you want us to do?”

“It’s your decision,” Trevin half laughed. “But what choice do we have?”

“Aye,” Vanx agreed and turned his horse in the direction the Kobalt was pointing. “Nice and slow, follow me. Keep those cats calm. Talk to them. Relax your bows, but keep them at hand,” Vanx instructed.

As they made their way down the streambed they saw that they were surrounded. Vanx felt like a sheep being herded to sheer.

After just a short bit of travel they came to what might have been a campsite not long ago. The Kobalts had seemingly dispersed. Vanx wondered if the Kobalts wanted them to camp there.

There was an open pack that had been rummaged through lying under a tree, and the blackened remains of a day’s-old fire in a ring of rocks that had been taken from the stream bed. The area had been trampled, as if a handful of men with horses had tromped around the site for a night, if not longer.