Wicked Hunt

Chapter Nine, Part II

Rafe: Watched

The sheer scope of Clive's plan, while costly, exorbitant, and outlandish, was quite an intelligent scheme. Rodantha was known for its massive, hearty men. They weren't the most disciplined group, but their size counted for something. Ten years ago, an uneasy but firm alliances had formed between the three Trinity Islands: Verlic, Rodantha, and Eldencrest. Trade and peace coexisted easily. For too long, things had been quiet. King Clive Palisade now sought to remedy that. The foolish king of Rodantha had given his army freely, never once questioning what Clive even wanted with it. The stories of the man spoke of a large, overgrown baby with no real intellect for how to truly rule a kingdom. Clive had capitalized on this. With the largest army in the Trinities at his beck and call, Clive thought he could conquer as he would, taking the other two islands and becoming the supreme dictator.

Rafe sat, silent and still as a stone, upon Lightly's back. His excitement at finally leaving Dunhelm had been completely overshadowed by Clive's revelation. The others, sensing their Commander's unease, trailed some ten feet behind him, hardly speaking to him or each other.

He was told that only two people now knew of his plan: Maddox and Rafe. He swore to uphold that secret. He would speak of it to no one. Yet, he struggled with the finality of the decision. He did not know if it was the right course of action. There was no true concrete evidence of treachery in the west, but it was always there in the background, a whisper on the wind among the villagers and lords there. Clive never felt it. The last time he went to the western coast had been years ago. He left dealing with it to Rafe.

Had the king become complacent of his own people in his shuttered keep?

Instantly, Rafe shook the thought from his mind. He had seen Clive last night at his wedding, tall and imposing in his antler-crown. Shrouded in the shadows of the forest, he had been every bit the ferocious warrior he claimed to be. No one would dare question the king's authority. If Clive was unworried about the west, then it was with good reason. Still, there was a nagging within Rafe's mind. Perry Gritt was a patient man, and no fool at that. Was he just biding his time, waiting for Clive to make a mistake before he pounced?

That is not your job. You do not council the king, you obey him.

"All well, Rafe?" Christopher reined his horse up beside him, concern crinkling the corners of his eyes. "Is it about leaving without seeing your daughter?"

Rafe had opted for letting Mira explain his absence at Saydee's departure to his daughter that morning. He could think if nothing to say to the girl, and he didn't want to see Mira again. The brief sight of her in that tight fitting dress had brought back enticing memories, forged in what seemed like the fires of another life. He couldn't afford to teeter on the edge of losing his grip again. He wouldn't allow it.

Instead, he focused on something to remedy the anger: How the hell did Christopher know anything about Saydee's visit at Dunhelm? Narrowing his eyes, Rafe jerked his head back and pinned Rufus with a glare. The man's gaze instantly dropped and focused on the gravel on the road.

"Christopher," Rafe said lowly as he faced forward again. He gripped Lightly's reins in his gloved hands. "Ride to the back and see that the men keep up." He tugged the leather cords upward and kneed Lightly's side. The horse responded and picked up her pace. "We're speeding up," he called over his shoulder. "If the men can't keep up," he faced forward again, his jaw clenching, "leave them behind."

Christopher's words were lost on the wind as it tore at Rafe's dark hair and cape darting behind him in a cloud of black fabric. He allowed the frigid air's fingers to steal away his irritation and replace it with focus. The first stop on their patrol was about a day and a half from the keep: a teeming cesspit called Carez.

The city had once been a thriving place of trade and commerce, but its close location to coast aided more to the rise in criminal activity than trade. As a port town, Carez catered to all sorts of travelers from sleazy pirates to weathered merchants. Criminals and heathens flocked to Carez, keen on supplying the voyagers with alcohol, drugs, and questionable women for profit. It soon became its own pit of seedy activity. Until now, it was nearly too late to attempt to drag it back from the dregs of darkness.

The growth in crime and murder only continued to cultivate, adding to the city's notoriety until that's all it was known for. Now, the seething hole of chaos and destruction would be unavoidable. The Watch had to contend with the local ruffians who ruled the town. Lord Viktor Forest, a meek and mousy man, was simply a frail decoration. Easily, he had been threatened into compliance. He had been allowed to keep his manor house, but his power had been relinquished to the thugs.

Phineas Five-Fingers ran the place now a days. His pension for sleaziness was something of a legend, his eye for cruelty an equally formidable vice. He could persuade a poor man to sell his own mother for a tin of copper coins only to have the fool stabbed in the back and the mother sold into prostitution. His reputation was known throughout Verlic. Five-Fingers was a nasty piece of work, one of those rough people who had led a harsh life and thus was eager to give harshness in return. Rafe always hated dealing with the man but enjoyed it immensely when he stepped out of line, breaking one of Clive's rules. That meant justice, and the more brutal the punishment the better, as far as Rafe was concerned, especially when it came to Phineas Five-Fingers.

I hope he's dealing Jade Powder again, Rafe thought. The drug was illegal in Verlic due to its incredible addiction ability and its pension for bloody deaths. Five-Fingers had been caught twice in the past dealing the drug out of his own home. Both instances had ended with severe trade restrictions for Carez for six months, oh and an off the record brawl with Phineas that resulted in a bruised wrist for Rafe and a broken nose for Five-Fingers. Every time the Commander saw the man after that, he always got a sick pleasure from looking at that crooked nose.