Published: 6 Jun 2019

Kidnapped

The companions’ reception in Sophie was less friendly and more cautious than at previous towns. The city’s gates were closed even though it was mid afternoon. Guards stood on the parapet and issued their challenge. Alan replied, “I am Alan, son of Sir Aaron, Lord Silvanus, Privy Counselor to Prince Auric. I am traveling to Agium to hunt in the mountains; my friends travel with me.”

The sembler who stood beside the guard squinted as Alan spoke. “There’s truth there … but there’s more, as well.”

“We may do some trading,” Alan added. “Although trade is becoming dangerous, from what we hear. Caravans raided, people killed …”

The guard scoffed. “Overblown rumors. We’ve had no trouble here. And aren’t likely to.” Distracted from further questions by his own words, the guard waved the group through the postern gate.

James had prepared himself and saw the guard’s lie. He’s worried, but not, apparently, about us.

The companions spent the next two days canvassing Sophie for trade opportunities. The merchants’ conversations were guarded and did not seem anxious to discuss trade with the capital city.

“We can’t stay here much longer,” Alan said after the second fruitless day. “We announced that we were on a hunting trip, and although we might be interested in trade, it’s pretty obvious we’re not getting anywhere. If we stay much longer, we may raise suspicions.”

“Alan’s right,” Kenneth said. “Twice when city guards passed us it felt as if they were watching us.”

“James, Thom, your thoughts?” Patrick asked the other two members of the team.

“I’m ready to leave,” Thom said. “I don’t have any magic like you and James and Kenneth do, but this place is creepy.”

“Very well. Tomorrow, we leave. We’ll stop here on the way back from Agium. Perhaps we’ll have better luck, then,” Patrick concluded.

The next morning Thom went to the stable to prepare the horses for the trip. Kenneth and Alan both offered to help him, but he declined. They did not press the issue. Thom seemed to enjoy, even need, his time alone with the horses. The others took their breakfast expecting Thom to join them, but he had not appeared by the time they finished their meal. Alan got up from the table. “I’ll go help Thom,” he said. “We can leave after he gets some breakfast.” Patrick nodded. He and Kenneth went back to the room to gather everyone’s packs, while James settled their account with the publican.

James had just returned to the room when they heard heavy feet pounding up the stairs. Looking out the door, Patrick saw Alan rushing down the hall with Thom cradled in his arms. “He’s been hurt!” Alan said, gently placing the boy on one of the beds. “There was some kind of fight in the stable. The horses and our gear are okay, but Thom was hurt.”

James and Patrick immediately moved in. Patrick looked at James, who nodded to say, Your patient, healer. “Let me know if I can help,” the elf added.

James placed his hands on Thom’s blood-soaked hair and looked at the boy. “Pulse and respiration are good. Heavy blow to the head. Nothing broken. Some swelling already starting. Patrick, would you deal with that while I examine the rest of him?”

Without speaking, Patrick touched Thom’s head, and began directing the blood and lymph vessels to constrict, reducing pressure on the brain. He directed power to the affected area of the brain, giving it the energy it needed to begin healing itself. Some hematoma, he thought, as he gently prodded the engorged blood vessels. Now, for that gash on his scalp.

Meanwhile, James had determined that apart from some bruises, Thom was not injured. “Where’s his dagger?” he asked Alan.

“Not with him,” Alan said. “Whoever hurt him probably took it.”

As Thom began to regain consciousness, the sound of shouting voices raised in hubbub became audible from below.

“There’s something going on in the common room,” Patrick said. He closed his eyes and sat quietly for a moment. He was not idle, however. Carefully gathering magic, he sent out a series of gentle pulses and examined their echoes. Anger, worry, and grief in the common room, but not directed at us. Nothing else is unusual. We are safe, for the moment.

“Alan, please find out what that noise is about. James, as soon as you can, ask Thom what happened. Kenneth, gather all our things together in one place … on that bed, please. Be ready to leave quickly.”

The companions rushed to their tasks. Thom was sitting up, but still groggy, when Alan returned. “Publican’s son, a boy, and the boy’s cousin, a boy-child, are missing. They were supposed to be tending the stable.”

Walking over to Thom, and looking at James for approval, Alan sat beside Thom. Putting his arm around the boy, Alan asked, “How do you feel? Are you okay?”

“Head still hurts,” Thom said, reaching up to touch his head. James gently brushed the boy’s hand away.

“It is healing,” he said. “Still, I want to bandage it.”

“Did something happen in the stable?” Alan asked.

“Four men came to get their horses. I was kneeling in a stall, closing my saddlebags, so they didn’t see me. I heard them talking to the boys. One of them, one of the men said they should take the boys to the slave market! I couldn’t let that happen,” Thom’s voice broke. “I just couldn’t!”

Patrick took the news downstairs, and explained to the publican it appeared the two missing boys had been kidnapped. “Our companion, who was injured in their defense, say there were four men, three human and an elf. Were they guests?” he asked.

“Four men—three humans and an elf,” the distraught man replied. “Yes. They came in late, after you’d had your supper…”

“Where were they bound? Where were they from?” Patrick continued, his senses attuned to the publican’s aura, looking not for lies, but for uncertainties.

“South, they said. They were going south,” the publican replied. His initial shock had worn off, and a deep apathy born of despair was setting in.

Patrick lowered his voice. “Please, if we are to help, we must be certain. Are you sure they were going south?”

The publican’s attitude brightened slightly. “Yes, I heard them asking a carter about the road to Agium. That was last night.”

“Three humans and an elf left the inn just before we came to breakfast. The publican thinks they were going toward Agium,” Patrick relayed to his companions. “They harmed Thom, and likely have kidnapped two boys. What are your thoughts?”

“Thom, did they say where the slave market was?” Patrick asked. In Arcadia and Elvenhold trafficking in slaves was punished by death. That did not mean that slavery did not exist.

Thom looked at his feet and clasped his hands together. “I don’t remember. I think they said a town, but I just don’t remember. I’m sorry,” the boy said.

The companions agreed to pursue the kidnappers. “It’s not part of our mission, except the heart of our mission is fighting evil, and these men are certainly evil,” James summed up the discussion.

“Our best chance, now, is to assume the kidnappers went south, I think.” James said. He looked at the other two.

Patrick nodded. “We should ask at the gate, though.”

James blushed. Once again, he’d jumped to conclusions. “The publican’s wife gave me this trinket. She said the boy treasured it. Normally, it would make a good compass, but it indicates nothing. The hills and the oaks all around here cause too many … ripples, I guess, in the magical field.” James looked at Patrick as if for confirmation, and then continued when Patrick nodded. “I don’t think the boy is still in the town, though.” James did not add that the compass would give the same indication if the boy were dead.

“Let us ride, then,” Patrick said.

The guard at the gate confirmed a party of four had left the town and turned south. He was sure they had two large bundles draped over their horses. He could not say what might have been in the bundles.

“They’ll ride fast, at first,” Alan said. “But it’s unlikely they can maintain that pace. With the extra burden of the boys, they’ll slow fairly soon. Let Dasher set the pace, and we’ll catch up with them by mid-day or a little later.” At Patrick’s nod, Alan took the lead, giving the big Clydesdale his head. Patrick followed; James, Kenneth, and Thom took the rear guard position. Thom’s jaw was clenched, and his eyes were narrowed. Whatever the boy was feeling, it wasn’t charity.

After three hours of hard riding, Alan signaled a halt, and turned his horse away from the road. “Why are we stopping?” Thom asked.

“The horses need water,” Alan replied. “There’s a stream, there. Wait a moment, and then follow.” He jumped from his horse, and led Dasher to the stream, scanning the ground as he did so.

“Okay, come on,” he said to the others as Dasher drank. “Those we seek stopped here, as well. Four sets of hooves, see?” He pointed to depressions in the ground. “Four different pairs of boots, as well. Doesn’t look like they let the boys down to drink.”

The road rose with the hills. At noon, Alan, still in the lead, reached the crest, and signaled a halt. “Patrick, James … come look,” he said.

Patrick looked toward the south.

“See, where the road turns back on itself like a snake,” Alan said. “How many riders?”

“Four, moving slowly,” Patrick said.

“It’s they,” James said. He had suspended the missing boy’s amulet on a cord that he held in front of himself. “See? The compass swings toward them. At least the older boy is with them—and alive.”

“We need a plan,” Patrick said to Alan. “If they know we’re close, they may harm the boys. But we can’t let them get too far away.”

“I would not like to wait until after dark,” Alan said for Patrick’s ears alone. “I’d not want these boys put through what those men may have in mind.” He stopped speaking; there was no need to continue.

“Patrick,” James asked, “is there a spell? There must be something…”

“At this distance?” Patrick mused. “There’s no offensive spell I can cast on any of the men that mightn’t endanger the boys, too. And, I could only attack one at a time; that would certainly warn the others…”

“What about a sleep spell?” James asked.

“Wouldn’t act fast enough,” Patrick said. “And the target would almost certainly have time to warn the others…”

“What about a horse?” Alan asked.

“Huh?” James said.

“Put one of them to sleep. They can’t talk, and the men might simply think the horse was exhausted,” Alan continued.

Patrick didn’t take time to acknowledge Alan’s suggestion, but immediately began drawing power from the matrix. Focusing on the rear horse, he gestured. Energy, shaped by his hands, the words he whispered, and the images in his mind, sped toward the horse. With elven eyesight, Patrick and Kenneth saw the horse stumble. Clenching his fist, Patrick sent another surge of energy. The horse stumbled again, and then fell to its knees.

“Down!” Alan urged. “Don’t let them see us!”

The companions ducked behind trees. Patrick peered carefully out. “They’ve stopped. Now what?”

“Tie the horses behind those trees. We proceed on foot. Quickly!” Alan said.

Alan led, not down the road, but cross-country. His years of hunting trips and the instincts he’d developed served the companions well. Within minutes, they were concealed in brush beside the road, less than 30 yards from the men.

The companions could not hear the men’s words, but the tenor of their voices held anger, defiance, and more anger. As the companions crept closer, the words became clear.

“The horses can’t keep up this pace, especially with the extra weight. Dump the boys!” argued one man.

“No, keep them. They’ll fetch a good price in Hagen…” began a second voice, to be interrupted by a third.

“Kill them, or they’ll identify us…” the third got out before a fourth voice cut in icily.

“Quiet, all of you. Your yelling will draw pursuit, if it hasn’t already. Our lead is short. We will keep the boys and walk the horses until we find water. You two,” the voice said, “will wait here in ambush against pursuit until mid afternoon, and then catch up with us. Do it. Now.”

From his hiding place, Alan gestured to Patrick, holding up two fingers, and then pointing to Patrick and James. He pointed to himself, Kenneth, and Thom and then to the south. You two deal with these two men, was the message. I’ll take the boys and deal with the other two.

Patrick and James nodded. Alan, Thom, and Kenneth slipped into shadow and vanished.

“One behind that rock, there,” Patrick whispered. “One by the tree, there. They wouldn’t be seen from the road. They’re easy targets from here.”

Alan had left his crossbow with James; Patrick held a long bow. The weapons were cocked and strung, respectively. At Patrick’s signal, the two boys stepped from their concealment. “Looking for us?” James called.

The two men started, and stared at the boys who materialized from behind trees not twenty yards away. Too late the men raised their weapons. James’ crossbow bolt caught one in the center of the chest, bowling him over. The arrow from Patrick’s bow pierced the other man’s throat. His yell turned into a gargle as blood fountained from his mouth. He dropped his own bow, and fell to his knees, jerking on the arrow. His body quivered for a moment, and then was still.

“They’re both dead,” Patrick said, after examining the bodies. “Their swords are poor quality. One had a nice dagger, and there was a little copper and silver in their purses, but nothing else. No sign of Thom’s dagger.”

The men’s bodies were unceremoniously rolled into brush. “Wild animals and vultures will find them and return their elements to the soil,” Patrick said. “A fitting end.”

James nodded, but paused to invoke a blessing. “May they find the Light in their next lives,” he concluded before turning his back on the bodies and following Patrick down the road, leading the dead men’s horses.

“That sounds more like a loon than a lark,” James giggled as Patrick whistled a recognition signal. “Try it like this…” The boys had walked cautiously but quickly through the trees toward their companions.

James’ whistle was answered by Alan’s shout, “Down here … we’re all right!”

Alan was stripping the bodies of the two remaining brigands. Thom held the leads of the horses. Kenneth finished his examination of the two boys.

“They’re dazed, thirsty, and a bit frightened,” he murmured to James, “but other than a few bruises, they’re uninjured.”

“Thom!” Alan called. “Here’s your dagger!”

“We found little on the bodies of the other two,” Patrick told Alan.

“These had only a bit silver,” he replied. “They were likely living on the edge. The horses are below average, and they have little other than their clothes and weapons. Desperation as much as greed may have driven them to this.”

Alan took the older boy on Dasher, while James put the younger on the front of his saddle. Thom and Kenneth each took the leads of two of the kidnappers’ horses, and the companions retraced their steps back to Sophie.

It was late evening by the time they reached the town. The gates were shut, but Alan’s shout brought guards to the parapet. “We’ve found the boys who were kidnapped. Let us in!”

After a pause, the postern gate was opened, and the companions led their horses into the town. The delay had given time for news to reach the inn, and the publican and his family were there to greet the boys.

The matins bell had rung hours ago but the common room of the inn was full of people. The presence of the Reeve ensured that no one would be held to task for violating curfew. The two rescued boys had been bathed and sent to bed. Alan watched Thom and Kenneth closely, ensuring the wine the publican pressed on them was well watered. Patrick sat in a corner—an oasis of quiet amid the hubbub—with the publican’s brother, Nathan, the father of the younger of the two rescued boys.

“In less than one day, we have seen both the depths of depravity and the height of kindness,” Nathan began. “You cannot know how grateful we are for what you did.” He paused. Patrick saw he had more to say. At last, Nathan continued. “Although we are on the Royal Road, we are—by choice—somewhat isolated. I know that my fellow townspeople have not been eager to talk to you. Please understand that our reluctance is borne of parochialism, perhaps fear, and not of any fault of your own.”

As the man passed his hand across his forehead, Patrick saw an ink stain on his index finger. “You’re an amanuensis, are you not?” he asked.

The man examined his finger and smiled. “Yes,” he replied. “The only cleric remaining here is kept busy healing; I’ve become the Keeper of Records.”

Patrick nodded. His “Um, hmm” encouraged the man to continue talking.

“I trained at the Temple in Fortmain when I was a boy,” he said. “When news came that my father had died, I had to return to help run the inn, here.” He waved his hand. Patrick glanced around the common room, where knots of men and a few women still lingered.

“John, who’s my oldest brother inherited, of course, but he has no head for business. Oh, he’s a good publican—very friendly fellow and a fine brewmaster. Anyway, none of our other brothers were interested. Two have joined the army; four are farmers at our sister’s home a few miles north of town. When John and I met twin sisters, we agreed we’d share in the operation and gain from the inn. It’s worked pretty well,” he continued. “Sorry. I hope I haven’t bored you.”

“Not at all,” Patrick replied. The relief at the return of his son, plus the lateness of the hour; both are reasons enough to babble. On the other hand, perhaps there’s something to be gained.

Aloud, he said, “Given the lateness of the hour, we will stay here and not leave until the second dawn. Although it is late, now, and I have two boys to get to bed, I would like to continue our converse.” The two agreed to meet at sext.

“You said, last night, the town had witnessed depravity,” Patrick said, watching Nathan to gauge his reaction.

“Yes,” Nathan replied. “We know of the brigand raids, mostly to the south of us. We’ve heard stories…” he paused. Patrick waited patiently.

“We know there is evil about; we thought by isolating ourselves, we could escape it. We found we couldn’t completely isolate ourselves; the town depends too much on trade and travelers. After what happened to the boys, I’m afraid we’ll pull a little bit further into our shell.”

“That would be unfortunate,” Patrick said. “And not only for the town, but for all those who follow the Light.”

Nathan was clearly puzzled by what Patrick said, but bided his time.

“You know that my companions and I follow the Light?” Patrick asked.

“Yes,” Nathan said. “You do not recognize me, but I was the sembler at the gate when you first arrived. It’s another duty I’ve been pressed to assume because of my time at the Temple. I saw not only the truth of what you said, but also a bit of your auras.”

“I am pleased,” Patrick said, “for it makes what I am about to say much easier. First, will you swear in the Light not to reveal what I will now tell you?”

Nathan agreed, and Patrick began a carefully prepared speech. Nathan needed little time to think before agreeing to become an agent of the Prince’s Secret Service.

Because Nathan had no way to encrypt messages or provide magical protection, his letters would go to one of Cadfael’s open associates, a warehouseman in Arcadia. That man would see that the information was forwarded to Cadfael. In addition, Nathan had agreed to send Patrick’s letter addressed to the same man. Patrick was challenged to put all the necessary information in the letter, while not revealing too much.

Markham whose warehouse is on Threadneedle Street, Arcadia from Patrick:

We spent a bit more time in Sophie than we had initially intended. A party of brigands—perhaps ordinary men driven to desperation by privation or greed—kidnapped two boys. We were in a position to make a rescue; the people of the town were ill equipped to do so. The boys were retrieved from their kidnappers; the kidnappers did not live long enough to be interrogated. We overheard one say there was a slave market in Hagen, a town in Eblis, south of Agium. It may be that Hagen was their destination. As to their origin, no one in the town learned that during their brief visit, here.

Although we were not successful in finding trade opportunities, our service may have made the townspeople a little more open to future discussions, and we plan to stop here on our return trip.

Nathan, co-operator of the inn in Sophie, and father of one of the two kidnapped boys, has agreed to provide information about trade and related activities. He is an amanuensis, who trained at the Temple in Fortmain; he is a good man.

The incident with the kidnappers only serves to reinforce our mutual concerns regarding trade. The farther south we go, the less comfortable I am.

“There,” Patrick said after showing the letter to James and Alan. “I hope he understands the last sentence means that both evil and danger are increasing.”

Alan looked at Thom and Kenneth, already asleep. “I hope he does, too. And I hope we can protect the boys from what awaits us.”

We hope that you are enjoying this tale of World. David appreciates all comments to his stories. David dot Mcleod at CastleRoland dot Net.