Cursed: Traitor's Trail

Chapter 4 Part 1

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Jaob stood atop the narrow watch tower. Constructed of various sized twigs and affixed to branches a hand's width wide. On the horizon bright streams of gold broke through the rising dust coloring the morning a glorious red. The breeze that had played around him only yesterday strengthened, becoming hostile.

Daybreak and the growing light of dawn returned his anxieties; not, he admitted to himself that his night hadn't been fraught with worry. He paced the tower long before the sun's rays graced the horizon. If his plan failed, the king's men would find New Hope this day. He'd ordered the magi not to panic, yet he couldn't quell his own fear.

He stopped, placing his hand on the low rail designed to keep the tower occupant from falling to their detriment, and scanned the surroundings. So far, he received no news of...anything. It was unnerving.

A soft murmur flowed from the village, other Magi, awake despite the time. Jaob was not alone in the early predawn. Suddenly he straightened; someone, a dim figure, was riding in from the west, his mount scurrying forward in a well trained straight line. Is it enemy or friend?

Jaob's breathing relaxed. In the dim light he couldn't make out the rider's features, but he didn't ride like a king's man, and he was alone.

One of the scouts then. A surprising amount of tension ebbed from his shoulders. He climbed from the tower quickly, misplacing a foothold only once forcing him to cling to the ladder in a way unbecoming to dignity. When he reached the bottom he hurried toward the scout, a small crowd already fluttered around him. Anxious faces eager for news, for any indication that this day their world would not be destroyed.

The rider had dismounted, but he leaned against his saddle, breathing heavily. Ah, it's Tabak. Sweat formed on the man's brow despite the cool morning air. The mount, too, had sweat stains beneath the leather straps of the saddle, its ears drooped in exhaustion. Tabak looked up at Jaob as he approached, his eyes filled with exhaustion, but not panic.

“Kaid, see to the mount,” Jaob directed one of the older boys, who had crowded around. “Come,” he took the rider by the arm, “Let's get you some water and a meal.”

He led the Tabak, the scout, from the group, less out of kindness, and more to get the man to the scout's tent, where he could relay his information without the other Magi crowding him.

The eyes of the group followed them. He felt their hope and desperation burning into him.

“You will have answers once this man is tended to,” he told them without looking back. But it did not change the weight, the expectations they seemed to rest on his shoulders.

He lifted the entrance flap for the rider who entered gratefully and made his way instantly to the skin of water, drinking heavily. At least here the tent walls offered a bit of privacy.

“What news?” Jaob asked once the man drank his fill. Privacy for this matter wasn't essential. The Magi would know soon enough, but if the prediction was to be doom, he wanted a moment—just a moment—to be free of answers or assurances for others, to worry only for himself.

“Well...I'm not sure.”

“You're not sure?” The entire village was at stake and he wasn't sure? Jaob wanted to throttle him. However, the deep furrow between his brows spoke his confusion true. He grunted, acknowledging Jaob's question.

“We did as you commanded. It didn't take long to confuse the trail and ride in all directions. And it worked for a while; at least it slowed them down. But they seemed to catch on quickly. They had begun sending out scouts and searching systematically instead of tracking. I knew they were coming close to finding us. So, I stayed back to watch them, hoping for an opportunity to do something...”