“No,” Oarly said, peering closely at the inscription.
Phen wondered if Tection was one of Oarly’s relatives. Shardsworth wasn’t a very common name in the dwarven history books.
Oarly huffed with a curious, yet prideful look on his face. He scratched his head and looked Phen in the eye. “How do you think they land, lad?” he asked seriously.
Phen shrugged. “Does it matter?”
Chapter 22
Commander Lyle wasn’t pleased to be on the verge of heading back to Dreen empty-handed. He was sure that the High King wouldn’t be happy with his failure. After crossing the Southron River, they hadn’t seen a trace of the skeleton crew or their strange beasts. They spent a whole day going up and down the far shore and searched for another day in the village of Crags, questioning the folks about the fisherman and his initial catch. Then, just to be thorough, the commander had them search the rocky terrain around the village for any sign of the undead. There was nothing. It was like the skeletons they had been following just walked straight into the river and never came out.
Lieutenant Garret suggested that the skeletons had boarded a barge similar to the one they had used to cross the river. It made sense, but this mystery barge hadn’t been found. Nor was there a single witness who might have seen it.
Commander Lyle was certain that a barge was a possibility, but the lay of the land made it highly unlikely for a barge to pass by unseen.
At night, a barge with a capable water mage might have been able to land somewhere along the vast shore of Ultura Lake. Searching the shoreline of such a massive body of water would be next to impossible. It could be, Lyle decided, that the skeletons were going back in the direction from which they had come. Leading the commander’s group to the edge of the Southron River, then backtracking, didn’t seem likely for them to do, either. The idea that these things were intelligent enough to lose a trained pursuer was frightening.
As they rode into the town of Lake Port, failing King Mikahl was eating at Commander Lyle’s pride. He had to make a decision soon. Searching fruitlessly would only delay him from explaining what had happened. He was sure that failing to report an attack upon kingdom men by armed skeletons was some sort of dereliction of his duty. High King Mikahl should know everything that happened. Commander Lyle just couldn’t bring himself to give up the search yet.
After securing enough rations for the men and horses to last another week, Lyle found a merchant who had a detailed map of Valleya. While his men ate a hot meal of beef stew and freshly baked bread at a nearby inn, he studied it. After asking several questions about the surrounding areas, Commander Lyle made his decision. He had Petar choose four men to accompany him and ordered the other five to ride to Dreen. He gave Petar a written account of what had happened. It included a list of the dead and explained that Lieutenant Garret and six of Weir’s city guard had joined his company.
“Ride to Southron, then head straight north to Kastia Valley,” Commander Lyle told Petar. “Stay on the roads and make as much time as you can.”
“Yes, sir,” Petar answered.
Commander Lyle dismissed him to his duties and then ordered lieutenant Garret to take four men and go a few miles west out of Lake Port, and then work his way north to the town of Southron looking for any signs of the skeletons’ trail. The commander and the rest of the company would travel the road and the shoreline north and do the same.
“Don’t scout at night,” the commander said. “Study the terrain and scout for tracks till the light runs out and then make your camp. We should meet up at the north side of the lake, in Southron City, by tomorrow evening.”
“What if we find a trail?” Lieutenant Garret asked.
“Follow it,” the commander answered. “Use caution, and leave us a trail to find. If we don’t see you in Southron by the morning after next, we will come search you out. Do you really think you will find anything?”
Lieutenant Garret smiled and gave a shrug. “In just the last few days, far stranger things have happened.”
“Yes they have,” Commander Lyle agreed with a grimace. “If we find a trail, I’ll send a pair of riders out to find you.” He looked at his remaining men and then back at the lieutenant. “Make your trail obvious.”
“Yes, sir,” the Weir city guardsman replied. Without hesitation, he found his horse and started rounding up the men he would take with him.
The next night they met up in the lively trading town of Southron. Neither group saw anything to indicate that the skeletons had passed through. Reluctantly, Commander Lyle gave up the search. The next morning, as they started out for Kastia Valley, the whole group seemed defeated.
Commander Lyle reasoned that, when he reported his failure to the High King, at least it wouldn’t be a surprise. The message he sent with Petar would break the news for him. It was a small consolation, for he had to face the families of the eight men who had been killed under his command. That, he felt, was far worse than facing King Mikahl’s disappointment. The fact that he couldn’t report a success, that those men had died in vain, was the worst of it. Commander Lyle wasn’t looking forward to his return to the red city.
Three long days later, the commander entered the castle gates followed by his men, and the seven others from Weir. He sent them all to the stables to tend the needs of their mounts while waiting to see if they had new orders, or if they were to be dismissed to their regular duty. Lieutenant Garret would be interviewed by the king himself, since Lord Gregory was afield; that much he knew. Most likely the others would be questioned before they were added to the High King’s roll.
Lyle entered the castle and noticed immediately that something was happening. Servants and ladies hurried about with strained looks on their faces. Some were carrying bundles and boxes in their arms. He saw Cresson and got his attention. The mage came over, stroking his long goatee beard and informed the commander that the king and queen would be departing for Westland on the morrow. The whole place was in an uproar trying to prepare for the departure.
“I must see him,” Commander Lyle said urgently.
“Go wait in the council hall,” Cresson told him. “The High King is in the throne room trying to explain to someone why he can’t tell them where someone else is without betraying a trust. He will probably be glad for the interruption.”
Cresson entered the throne room and gave a wave of apology for intruding on Corva and Dostin’s inquiry. He whispered in Mikahl’s ear and then stepped away.
“I’m sorry, there’s urgent business forming,” the High King said. “I’ve already told you all I can. Lord Gregory may be able to tell you more when he returns, but I cannot.” The king excused himself and followed Cresson.
Commander Lyle was pacing back and forth nervously when Cresson and the High King came into the council hall. He was surprised to see the expression on King Mikahl’s face.
“Commander,” the High King smiled. “It amazes me that you could get a wagon cage with two living skeletons in it inside the castle gates without making even the slightest of a stir. I figured the rumormongers would have carried us the tale as soon as you entered the city.”
Commander Lyle blanched. Had Petar not delivered his report? Suddenly he was very worried for the young soldier. The concern must have shown on his face.
“What is it?” King Mikahl asked. His smile had faded.
“I sent a man with a message.” He put a hand on the back of a chair to steady himself. “He should have arrived yesterday at the absolute latest.”
“We received your message about the suspect activities going on in Weir.” King Mikahl looked to Cresson for confirmation. Cresson nodded. “Obviously that is not the report you are referring to.”