Alana's Trail

Chapter 3

The stablehands had been quick to help Alana dismount before taking the horse to settle in for the night. Alana and Senna walked into the manor through the kitchen, the ranger hoping to grab a light snack. Nothing was ready or handy, but the cook offered to prepare something for her. Alana thanked her and continued through on her way to the chapel.

"Lady Alana!" Dickory, an older cleric, ran out to greet her as she approached. "You're home safe! We've been praying for you."

She smiled tiredly, "Thank you. I didn't mean to disrupt vespers, but I'm looking for my brother. I wanted to let him know I'm home."

"He isn't here." The cleric looked at her in confusion.

"Oh. All right. I guess I'll go find him in the manor."

"No. I mean..." Alana had never seen Dickory at such a loss for words. "He's not in Thornwood."

"He's not in Thornwood?," Alana repeated slowly. "Then I suppose I'll see him when he gets home." She headed back to the manor before the poor cleric stuttered himself into a stupor. The cook had set out a small feast for her, and she grabbed only what she could carry on her way to the living quarters.

She stopped at her brother's room, peeking in even though she knew he was away. It was habit. The room was unnaturally still, like no one had been in it for months. Aidan had been preparing to survey the towns in the province when she left, and he'd been expected home long before she was. She walked in and ran her hand along his wardrobe. A thin layer of dirt clung to her hand.

Alana's room was cleaner than her brother's, despite the fact she'd been gone over a month. The wolfhound jumped up and settled at the foot of the bed, clearly happy to be home. Alana set everything down and started unpacking, thinking through the past several minutes. Finally understanding Dickory's reaction to her inquiries, she charged downstairs, everything else forgotten.

Sir Tristan was staring at a book in his lap when Alana walked in, and she lightly kissed his cheek. "Hello, Father."

"Back so soon?"

"I've been gone five weeks." She didn't even bother trying to keep the annoyance out of her voice. A part of her wondered if her father ever noticed when she was away doing his work, but she was too worried to entertain that thought.

"That long?"

"Have you ridden out all of the earthquakes here?" He looked at her, confused and a bit more gray than he had been several weeks earlier. "Father, something's wrong with the land. Have you even been outside since I left?"

"Well..." he tugged at his sleeve, "I believe I was at morning prayers this morning."

"You believe," Alana responded flatly. "How did you miss the walls shaking?"

"I honestly don't know what you're talking about, dear. The weather's been fine since you left."

The ranger had to fight to keep from yelling at her father. "Why isn't Aidan here?"

"I'm sure he's here somewhere," Sir Tristan responded distantly, his mind moved on to something else. "Did you look in the chapel?"

Alana ripped the book from his hands. "Father!" He looked up at her, startled. "The clerics said they haven't seen him in a while. Where is he?" While her brother was given to periodic retreats, it was unusual for him to take one just after a mission and he never left without letting her know what direction he was headed and when he expected to return.

"I..." Sir Tristan Moorhawk looked around the room, and then fumbled for his book of days on the table beside his chair. He flipped through it, skimming a handful of pages. "Well, that's strange. He should be here." He looked back at his daughter. "Are you sure he didn't just put up his horse in the wrong stable? Or perhaps he went on one of his spiritual sabbaticals."

Alana set the book at the far edge of the table beside her father's chair and stormed out of the room.

Back upstairs, she took a closer look at her brother's room. Despite the dust, the room was neat and tidy, as Aidan would have left it. The bed was undisturbed. The wardrobe was half-empty, as it usually was when Aidan was away on a survey. He packed lighter for his retreats. She inspected his writing desk, the one luxury he allowed himself, hoping maybe he'd written a letter and just forgotten to leave it where she'd find it. But there was nothing, and a pit formed in the ranger's stomach.

She marched back down to the reading room. "Where have you sent him this time?"

Sir Tristan startled from his book, and then set it on the table and away from his daughter. "Who?"

"Aidan. What errand have you sent him on?" She folded her arms as her father consulted his book of days again.

"He was inspecting the southeast region about a month ago."

"Aidan hasn't been home in over a month, and you didn't notice." Alana knew her father was having mental lapses, but this was a new level for him.

"I suppose...," his voice trailed off. "When did I last see him?"

Alana snarled and made her way across the property to the family chapel, which doubled as the house of worship for regional seat Thornwood. The clerics were preparing the chapel for the next day when she barged in, mentally apologizing to the family deities. The two clerics on duty, from the four who worked with her brother to manage the chapel, jumped.

"Lady Alana!" They both ran to her. Brother Fawkes, a beady-eyed stocky man a few years older than her, inspected her. "You're home safely. Thank the gods. But if you're looking for Brother Aidan-"

"I know. He's not here. Father doesn't know where he is, and he didn't leave me any information." Seeing the concern on the clerics' face, both for her and her brother, her anger deflated. The fact the clerics were so quiet about her brother set off serious red flags for the ranger. "When was the last time you saw him? Do you know where he was last headed?"

"It's been, what, a month?" Tam, a lankier cleric, looked to his companion, who nodded. "He was headed to survey Aspenfields."

While she knew Aidan took his Moorhawk responsibilities just as seriously as his cleric duties, she couldn't imagine him spending more than a month doing administrative work. "And he hasn't been heard from since? Not even reports?"

"Nothing, my lady," Fawkes responded, grinning in what Alana could only assume he meant as a reassuring smile. It did nothing to alleviate her fears.

"All right. Thank you." She returned to the manor and her room, where the squires had already laid out her hand-carved leather armor to dry. She ran a wistful finger over it, wishing she had the time to properly care for the pieces at the moment. It had been so long. "Oh, Aidan. What have you gotten yourself into? This is why I don't let Father send us in different directions if I can help it."

She shook out everything in her pack and repacked it. She checked her arrows, dropping the ones that weren't serviceable into the vase next to her dresser and stowing the good ones back in her quiver. Piece by piece, she put her armor back on, adjusting straps as she went, and then threw on her traveling cloak and headed to the stables.

Senna hopped down and met her at her bedroom door, first rubbing against her leg and then sitting back and softly growling. "I know, I know. I said we were home for a while. But it can't be helped. Aidan hasn't come home from his last trip."

Minutes later, the wolfhound was pacing in small figure eights, watching Alana as she saddled her horse. The horse was no happier than the wolfhound. "You both know we wouldn't be going if this wasn't an emergency." But the horse would not be swayed.

Realizing she wasn't going anywhere until her companions got their much needed down time, Alana seated herself on a barrel in one corner of the stables, and was asleep in moments.