The rain continued steadily through that day and the night and most of the next day, fading into a depressing drizzle, like a leaky faucet that had trouble turning off. By the time the sun peeped out again, tinting the clouds an evening gold and peach, Tariq had to admit he had no idea where they were. All he knew was that the setting sun should have been directly at their back, but instead it had moved quite to their left.
Too worn out to solve the problem, he ordered a stop a little sooner than usual and left his companions to eat the last of their rations (soaked) while he threw himself down on the ground and went immediately to sleep.
Three-quarters of an hour later, he was up again. The sun had set, and Sutton was struggling to get a fire going out of wet wood. It was smoky and weak, and it kept going out, discouraged by the anxious stares of three shivering schoolboys.
He was almost cheerful after the nap—cheerful by his standards, which meant the customary scowl was a bit eased and he spoke normally instead of growling. He approached the fire. Sutton moved away in deference, and pretty soon Tariq had a decent blaze going.
“How did you do that?” Sutton asked in awe.
“Fires are scared of me,” Tariq said dismissively, though really it was the other way around. He kicked around at the edge of their camp for a good-sized stick, then took a rag and a bit of oil out of their supplies to put together a makeshift torch.
“I’m going to scout around,” he said as he stuck the torch into the fire to light it. “Be back in a while.”
The torch blazed up, and he lifted it and headed into the woods.
~
The weekly posters were up already in the Pig’s Eye Hunter’s Guild, and as usual, there was a crowd of men around it, eager to be the first to claim the best-paying missions.
The Guild doubled as an exclusive tavern for members, but thanks to the new bulletin board, only one person sat at the usually crowded bar. He was a fairly young man, dark-skinned, slight and delicate-looking, nursing a mug with one hand and fidgeting with his long black braid with the other. He was the only one not in the least interested in the board—he never had a preference which missions he took on, and his companions always chose ones that paid decently.
Someone plopped down at the bar next to him, making the stool groan in agony under his weight. Seeing the newcomer next to the young man with the braid was like seeing a brick next to a feather—he was enormous, one huge block of muscle, from his shaved head down to his tree trunks of ankles.
“Not too early for beer?” the block of muscle rumbled.
The feather shook his head and took a gulp from his mug.
“Mayhem will get us one,” the block said, jerking his head toward the bulletin board.
The feather nodded.
“I hope there’s something good,” the block continued. “I’m sick of these petty missions. We ain’t had a real challenge in a while. It’s all ‘catch the horse thief, get rid of the rats in the barn, rabid dog on the loose.’ Sure, it pays, but it ain’t any fun.”
The feather shrugged.
Unperturbed by his companion’s silence, the block thumped with a huge fist on the bar and shouted for a drink.
Near the entrance, a commotion arose.
“That’ll be Mayhem,” the block said with a grin.
A wiry man was pushing his way to the front of the crowd by the bulletin board, sending men twice his size scattering. Arms crossed, he surveyed the board, licking his teeth, which he’d filed into fangs.
A few tense moments passed, the crowd around him waiting warily. Finally, he snickered, ripped down a poster, and headed to the bar. The men parted to let him through, then moved to the board again, subdued.
‘Mayhem,’ as the other hunters called him, was the top dog of the Guild, and he ruled through fear. No one knew quite how old he was or what was his real name; they just knew to fear his fanged smile and his spiked cudgel and the steel claws on the fingertips of his gloves. There were rumors he had some monster blood in his veins. They weren’t unreasonable rumors either, since he was more like a wolverine than a normal human being.
This monster of a man swaggered to the bar and hopped onto a stool. “Tormey, Draeger,” he greeted the block and the feather in turn. He slammed the poster he’d chosen onto the bar top in front of them. Under the Wanted portrait and the name, the bounty was listed as 15, 000 gold.
“He’s an expensive one,” Mayhem said, baring his fangs. He flipped the poster over to read the details.
“Wanted for the attempted murder of the Prime Minister. Highly dangerous individual, soldier with specialized elite training and combat experience. Extra 1,000 gold if captured alive. Five foot nine, blonde hair, gray eyes. Eighteen years old.” Mayhem snickered. “They startin’ criminals young these days.”
“Sounds like fun,” Tormey said, knuckles popping as he clenched his huge fists.
They both looked at the feather-like young hunter beside them.
Silent, Draeger placed a meditative hand on the poster and flipped it over. He placed his fingertips on the portrait, then drew one forefinger slowly across the boy’s throat.
“Sounds like a plan,” Mayhem said. “16, 000—that's a good haul. Come, my Eumenides. We’ve got prey to catch.”
He shot a meaningful glance at the bartender, who bobbed his head in nervous obedience and called for his young son.
The Eumenides left the Guild, followed by the wary stares of their subordinate hunters.
Soon, the bartender’s boy was running about the town, hanging up new Wanted posters that read, underneath the original information, ‘refer any leads to the Eumenides of the Hunter’s Guild.’
~
Phineas was dozing off on his watch when Tariq returned to camp, his torch burnt down to nearly nothing. The moon was low in the sky; it was the wee hours of the morning. Phineas sat up to greet his brother, who nodded.
“Not sleeping, are you?” Tariq asked in a low voice, so as not to wake the others.
Phineas shook his head.
Tariq snorted, tossing the remains of his torch onto the smoldering embers of the fire.
“Did you figure out where we are?” Phineas whispered.
“Yes. We’ve veered south by quite a bit. We’re closer to Ferran than I would have liked. I found a town about two miles from here. It’s called Pig’s Eye—it’s quite near the border. We’ll resupply there tomorrow afternoon, stay the night if it’s safe, and then head northeast to get back on track.”
Phineas nodded, his thoughts straying to the appealing idea of a real bed and a hot meal at an inn. He was sick of eating dried meat and sleeping on tree roots, and he knew Cass and Sutton were too. Sutton had camped, of course, but none of them were used to going so long without a bed and roof and good food.
Snap snap
He jumped, startled out of his daydream. Tariq was snapping his fingers in front of Phineas’ face. Anyone else might have looked amused, but Tariq’s expression was as gloomy as ever.
“You really are tired,” Tariq said. “Go to sleep. I’ll take the rest of your watch.”
“But my watch isn’t over. And you haven’t slept. Aren’t you tired?”
“I said I’ll finish yours. I’m not tired.”
Phineas was skeptical, but he obeyed and stretched himself out on the ground. The last thing he saw before he drifted off was his brother’s face, hard with worry, outlined sharply in an orange glow as he poked at the embers with a stick.
~
Tariq rushed the sleepy boys even more than usual the next morning. He was anxious to get moving—he knew, with their slow pace, they’d be lucky to reach Pig’s Eye in the time he hoped.
Their path was beginning to go steadily uphill. So far on the journey, they had pushed through thick forest and underbrush, but the ground had been flat; now, the trees thinned a bit, and boulders rose out of the hardier bracken into rocky outcrops on either side of the route.
Tariq did not lead with so much confidence as before the storm. Every so often his steps slowed, or he would even stop to look around, glance at the sun, feel the wind’s direction, before waving a hand and continuing, sometimes in a slightly different direction.
The thick green undergrowth had turned to ground rock, blanketed with dead, orange needles, still a bit damp from the rain, pinecones scattered around the bases of the trees. The occasional red-and-yellow decked oak or maple still rose above them, but most of the trees were now conifers.
Phineas stopped and cursed; there was a pine needle in his shoe. He limped to a small boulder nearby and sat down to extract it. The others stopped to wait for him, Tariq a bit impatient, as usual.
“Are we further north?” Sutton asked, looking up at the huge pine trees in wonder.
“No. South,” Tariq said. “We veered south during the storm.”
“But it feels colder.”
“That’s called autumn,” Tariq said, annoyed.
“Oh.”
Phineas had his boot back on, and he stood up. They went on.
Noon came, and they stopped at the base of a small cliff to eat the little they had left. A couple strips of dried meat and some raisins were gone all too soon.
Tariq returned from refilling the waterskin, and seeing that they were done, made a curt order to move on. But the three boys didn’t move. There had been some conspiring while he was gone.
“What’s the matter?”
“We want to know what the plan is,” Cass said.
“Shh, Cass.” Phineas flapped a hand at him. “Let me do it. The thing is, Tariq, we’ve been hiking nonstop for almost five days now, and we’re out of rations, and we’re exhausted, and you’re the only one who knows where we’re going or what we’re doing. And today it seems like you don’t even know anymore.”
“But we have stopped,” Tariq said, puzzled. “And I told you last night. We’re going to Pig’s Eye. It shouldn’t be far; I made it to the edge of the town and back in six hours.”
“But after that, what? The three of us, we’re completely lost.”
“You’re welcome to go home when we reach town,” Tariq said, his scowl deepening. “No one said you had to come."
“Well, I at least feel like I should,” Phineas said. “Only I don’t know what the ultimate plan is. Do you even have one?”
“And where on earth are we?” added Sutton.
Tariq looked at his charges. The truth was, he wasn’t even sure of his end goal. He’d thought originally that they’d go due east to Tirrisia, but he hadn’t planned past that at all.
He decided to answer the easier question, hoping they’d forget the first.
“We’re nearing Ferran. Do you remember on the maps, Ferran is just on the tail end of the Great Mountains? They curl around Norgath’s border, and Ferran is where they end. You can tell we’re getting near the foothills, because of how rocky it is.” He pointed up at the cliff looming above them, small trees and dry bushes clinging stubbornly to the cracks between each boulder.
“But where are we going?” Phineas persisted.
“We’ll head northeast to Tirrisia after we resupply. After that,” he admitted, “I don’t know.”
“I’ve heard Scadiford is nice,” Sutton said helpfully. “If we got to Fort Lander on the border, we could take a train there.”
“A train’s too dangerous, stupid,” Cass growled. “Have you forgotten we’re fugitives? That’s why we’ve been trekking through the forest like animals instead of taking the highway straight to Tirrisia like civilized people do.”
“But we’d be out of Norgath once we got to Fort Lander, wouldn’t we?”
“Maybe, but they could easily turn us back in to our government. Tirrisia has been desperate to stay on good terms with us. Haven’t you taken any politics classes?”
“I didn’t pay attention,” Sutton said innocently.
Cass opened his mouth to say something cutting, but Tariq broke in.
“We’ll go to Fort Lander and part ways there. You three can take the train wherever you want. I’ll keep cutting across country.”
Silence fell.
“Part ways?” Sutton echoed in dismay.
“Sounds like a plan,” Cass said.
“But what will we do without you?” Phineas said.
“What do you mean, what’ll you do without me? You’ll do whatever your hearts desire. I just said that.”
“But you’re the only one of us who has any idea what they’re doing in unfamiliar places,” said Phineas.
Tariq shrugged. “Sutton seems to know his way around a forest pretty well.”
Sutton blushed.
“Besides,” Tariq went on, “you won’t need to be in the Wilderness. I don’t think anyone knows you three are connected to me yet. You would be just fine going to Scadiford.”
“But what’ll you do?”
“I don’t know. But I don’t have to decide right now.”
“This is stupid,” Cass muttered.
Tariq silently agreed. “Let’s keep moving. The sooner we go, the sooner you three can get back to civilized places.”
Slowly, Cass and Phineas stood up and got their packs. Sutton didn’t move.
Tariq looked at him. “Want us to leave you behind?”
Sutton shook his head and got up too.
I’m glad Sutton didn’t get left behind! Great piece
Thank you!