It was a somber group that passed through the Paelstead Gate a week later and rode into Wilderland. Gaillard’s choice to stay in Paelstead had seemed like a dark omen that dampened the relief they had from resting with House Frimrin. Taelroy had then tried to convince Rosie to stay with Jasnafih until he could return, but she had insisted on staying with her betrothed; the argument that followed had awakened the whole manor, and only stopped when Lord Frimrin ordered the guards to separate the pair.
Gamil lounged behind the kurga as it lumbered along, pulling a depressingly empty wagon. Taelroy’s funds were running short, and he was not able to afford to resupply in Paelstead. It left a question lingering over the group; if they killed the dragon, how would they get home? Where would “home” even be? The shortsightedness of Taelroy’s plan, pointed out by Gaillard before he left, was now glaringly obvious.
Beside Gamil, Rosie sat with her hands in her lap. Her dress and cloak had been replaced, by Jasnafih’s insistence, with garments more appropriate for a lady.
“I’m sure my father will take us in when the dragon is defeated,” Xalvador offered, attempting to bring some cheer to the group, “and the bounty for the dragon will support us for years if he doesn’t.”
“I’m plannin’ to retire with my cut.” Gamil growled, “Even a tenth of the bounty will let me live like a king for the rest of my days.”
“Gamil,” Rosie admonished, “The bounty will be Taelroy’s to claim, as he has financed this journey. It is his choice to give thee a ‘cut’.”
Gamil glared sideways at Rosie, though Taelroy couldn’t tell if it was because of her words, or the specific words she used. Jasnafih had influenced Rosie, and she strived to fit into Taelroy’s world.
“We’d have all died in that gambling den if it had not been for Gamil.” Xalvador replied.
“He will certainly get his share!” Taelroy added.
Gamil nodded confidently at the Lordlings’ words, pulling the cowl of his hood forward to shade his eyes from the sun.
Trades with the Tyrnish clans were always done in the Wilderland, and Paelstead had years before established a Trading Post about an hour past the Paelstead Gate. That was their first stop, a final chance to get information about the dragon and Tyrnish activity in the area, before donning armor on men and horses alike and heading to the dragon’s lair.
Unfortunately, the trading post was empty. No Tyrnish clans had come to trade, and no Kin merchants had risked the ire of the dragon. Taelroy and Xalvador donned their armor and were brushing their horses and equipping their mounts with heavy, plated barding when Rosie’s scream pierced the air outside.
Blades in hand, the two Lordlings rushed out of the stables to see two big, brutish Tyrns dragging Rosie away and four surrounding Gamil with crude axes and clubs.
“Help Gamil!” Taelroy ordered as he charged to Rosie’s aid.
The Tyrns were skilled warriors as their society favored the strong; but Taelroy had fine steel armor, the enchanted shield, and the Old King’s sword. He dispatched his foes easily, taking only a glancing blow across his pauldron.
Xalvador had not been so lucky. After Taelroy had helped Rosie get back to the horses, he ran to aid his companions. What he found however was grossly disheartening. Xalvador stood alone before a single Tyrn, his sword broken, and his armor dented in several places. There was no sign of Gamil or the other Tyrns.
Taelroy advanced with confidence, blocking a blow with his shield before it hit Xalvador and dispatched the last attacker.
“We couldn’t fight them off…” Xalvador admitted, “My blade broke… we were like babes before soldiers…”
“Where is Gamil?” Rosie asked from behind.
“The Tyrns captured him,” Taelroy explained, “Oddly, as they’re not known for taking prisoners…”
Taelroy sheathed the Old King’s sword and hefted one of the fallen Tyrn’s axes. It was a crude weapon, made from some kind of bone.
“Thou can wield this.” Taelroy offered, “Thine axe forms aren’t as honed as thine sword forms are, but thou art better than I am.”
“Are you going to save Gamil?” Rosie asked.
“No,” Taelroy replied incredulously, “The Tyrns do not allow the taking of prisoners, they’re likely trying to lure us into a trap, using him as bait. As much as it pains me to do so, we’re going to kill the dragon and get out of here.”
“You can’t leave him!” she exclaimed.
“To go after him is suicide Rosie!”
Xalvador’s hand rested on Taelroy’s shoulder.
“The lady is right, Tael.” Xalvador admitted, “He risked his life for us when he saved us from the gamblers. We can’t leave him.”
Taelroy shook his head slowly as he considered the words of his friend and betrothed.
“So be it.” He concluded, “Leave the horses, they’re too easily surrounded when fighting Tyrns. Rosie, thou must remain here, I cannot be distracted by thee.”
The two Kin warriors approached the Tyrnish camp. One bore a blade and shield, the other carried a Tyrnish axe in both hands. There was no sign of the girl, but that was a small matter. The hunters could go back for the girl when the warriors had been dealt with.
Night was falling, a strong advantage to Tracker and his hunters. They knew the camp, and the nearby terrain; the Kin would not be able to escape.
“This feels like a trap, Xal.” One of the Kin said.
“I know, Tael; but Gamil needs us!” The other replied, “I think I see him ahead!”
Heavy, plated boots ran past Tracker’s position. The one wielding the sword and shield had stayed behind, approaching slower; the one wielding the axe had run right into their trap.
Tracker released his arrow; it flew as Tracker knocked the second and drew again. Tracker fired his second arrow at “Xal” as the first hit the prisoner squarely in the neck – the signal to trigger the ambush.
“AMBUSH!” the sword wielder shouted as he slashed Tracker’s second arrow out of the air, “XAL, GET OUT OF THERE!”
The sword wielder’s shouts were too late, Tracker’s hunters were in motion. There were a dozen in the tribe, but half of those had gone with the tribe to keep them safe while Tracker and the others set their trap. Five hunters had emerged from tents and charged into the clearing.
The sword wielder, Tael, had been expecting a trap; he was the one that had killed Tracker’s father in the raid at the trading post. He was skilled with his sword and had dropped another hunter as soon as he revealed himself.
Tracker was a skilled fighter too. He had seen Tael fighting before and had prepared himself for his upcoming conquest. Unlike the other hunters, Tracker brought a spear instead of an axe or club. Those would glance off the Kin’s heavy plate armor, and Tael’s shield would knock them away. A spear was more precise. A spear could find the joints in the Kin’s armor and strike the flesh beneath.
Tracker faced Tael, spear raised, and lunged forward. As expected, Tael parried the strike with his shield and struck with his sword. Tracker expertly spun his spear, knocking the blade away with the haft and slamming the butt of the spear into Tael’s head.
Two of Tracker’s hunters flanked Tael and the warrior shifted his stance to keep the newcomers in sight.
“Xal…” Tael said, “We need to get out of here…”
The two hunters flanking Tael struck together, but the warrior expertly shifted to dodge the first hunter before spinning under the second’s attack and slaying him. Tracker struck then, aiming his spear at the back of Tael’s neck.
Tracker hadn’t been watching the other Kin; assuming the other hunters would handle him. His attack was cut short by Xal’s axe biting into Tracker’s thigh. Tracker roared in pain, drowning out Xal’s words as he shouted back to Tael.
“I’m not leaving thee too!” Tael was shouting when Tracker’s roar faded.
“They’ll chase us if we both flee!” Xal replied, “Go! I’ll hold them back so thou can escape!”
Tael tried to strike at Tracker, creating an opening for Xal to escape with him, but Tracker blocked his attack and struck again, the tip of his spear narrowly glancing off Tael’s pauldron.
“There’s no need for us both to die here!” Xal pressed, “Now go!”
Tael backed away, but Xal didn’t follow. Instead, Xal used Tael’s retreat to strike at the distracted Tyrns.
Tael turned, hesitating slightly, and ran out of the camp. Tracker couldn’t follow with his wounded leg and the other Hunters couldn’t leave Xal for fear of being killed as they turned their backs. Likely Tracker would never hunt again; unless he could get to the shaman in Zul’eth, but that was weeks away.
Angrily, Tracker turned and used his spear to limp toward his hunters and Xal. At least one of the Kin would pay for his father’s death.