After [A Journey of the Twins Novel] (19 page)

"Whoa ... Shyanne, it's me!"

"Drayco! That's becoming a dangerous habit with you!” She lowered her sword to the ground. “What's going on?"

"Ruben received word you were in a town called Grandfield, and has started his people toward it.” He leaned over, resting his hands on his knees to catch his breath.

"Isn't that the town Moss told us about before he died?"

"Yeah. Oh, I saw Drizzle. He's been hurt, but not badly. I was able to get a signal to him that we would follow."

"What about Joseph? Is he still okay?"

Drayco saw the look in his sister's eyes at the mention of Joseph's name and the way her hand rose to her chest before she looked away. He knew, even if she didn't, that she loved the man. He resolved that, no matter what it took, he would make sure their companions were freed, and that his sister was reunited with the man who had so thoroughly stolen her heart, even if she had yet to realize it.

"He's okay. Ruben gave orders to the rest that he's to remain unharmed."

Shyanne's stiff posture relaxed. The look he'd seen a moment ago was gone. A look of determination replaced it.

She focused on her brother. “Let's go after them. We don't want those ... mercenaries ... to get too far ahead.” She spat the word out like it had a bad taste.

She climbed into the saddle and extended a hand out to help her brother up. With every passing moment, Jack became more tolerant of him and remained still. Drayco grabbed the offered hand and pulled himself up behind her. Once he was settled, gentle prodding urged the horse beyond the opening of their hiding spot. She pointed him in the direction of the recently vacated camp and clicked her tongue several times to move him through the narrow, winding pathway between the rocks.

They passed where the mercenary's camp used to be and continued westward. During the journey through the field of stone, silence ensued. Neither brother nor sister had much to say. Each was pondering on how they were going to get their companions back.

Ruben kept Wind Racer's forward momentum at a slow prance by maintaining a steady pull on the reins. The horse was thrilled to be out of the enclosed space, and it showed. The rest of the mercenaries made sure to stay with him. If they lost track of the pair in the field of stone, it meant they were not paid, and that was simply not an option this far into the mission.

Front and rear guards were posted, as was customary during a move. Everything was calm, and the big man liked it that way.

Ruben thought about what he had witnessed back at the camp. The cat had twitched its ears at something, then slowly moved its head around until it stopped, looking at a rock outcropping toward the left. Keeping his head straight, the big man had used his eyes to watch the entire process without the cat or watcher noticing. He had learned to observe discreetly through his years as a soldier, and it was about to pay off.

The girl must be close. I knew she would come
.

The sun was just past midday when the world of gray turned to one of green brushed with tan. Ruben was so tired of seeing nothing but rock that the sight of the open field ahead raised his spirit immensely. The mood of the entire group lifted, as well.

Ruben pulled Wind Racer to a stop and let the rest of the party go past into the sea of waving grass. They shook their heads, smiling, because they had seen this maneuver many times in the past and knew what came next. The dark horse was anxious, moving his shiny, black hooves from one spot to another, like a dancer nervous before his first performance. He knew what was coming.

The big man watched until the party was no more than specks on the distant horizon before starting to count. When he got to fifty, he whispered to the stallion, “Now's your chance, boy, show me what you're made of."

He grabbed a handful of mane, let the reins go slack, gripped with his thighs, and leaned low in the saddle. The muscles beneath him bunched and sprang into action as the stallion responded immediately. Within seconds, they were flying across the open space.

The rhythmic sound of hooves pounding against the ground and the heaving of each breath as it rushed out of the stallion, along the wind rushing past his face, all helped rid the sour feel of so much stone. He loved doing this. So did Wind Racer. The horse had been cooped up far too long. The ability to stretch in the open plains lengthened his stride to the point that it felt like he soared with wings instead of legs.

They cleared the hill and entered the vast plains beyond. The mercenaries were barely visible in the distance, but the man and horse were closing the gap rapidly. As they neared the back of the group, Ruben let go of the reins and sat up. He reached his arms out wide, fingers spread apart, and leaned his head back with his eyes closed. Wind Racer slowed his pace when his rider sat up. He knew the run was almost over.

His eyes watered freely and his face stung from the wind, but Ruben always felt exhilarated after a run. By the time they caught up, both man and animal were exhausted. Sweat lathered out from under the saddle, covering the horse's body. Ruben knew he had to walk him to cool him down. Wind Racer was the only family he had; he cared for the horse as he would his own child.

The stallion's nostrils flared and his sides heaved with every breath; but he held his head high and arched his neck gracefully while chomping at the bit in his mouth. He still had some spring in his walk. Ruben knew better than to let the horse continue running.

"I know, big guy, I know. You're a powerful horse. I would love to let you run some more, but not right now.” He leaned over and gave the wet neck an affectionate pat. One of the men rode up to him while he spoke to the stallion.

"Another fulfilling ride, sir?” he asked.

"As a matter of fact, it was. No better way to take your mind off things than to have it blown around a bit."

"Sorry to have to bring it back, sir. We were curious as to what your plans are?"

"I want to cool Wind Racer for a few more miles. After that, we'll break for the afternoon meal, then start again for the west coast."

As soon as the mercenary, another captain, left to pass the message along, Ruben returned his attention to the horse. Sweat still gleamed from Wind Racer's coat, but the warm breeze was drying the exposed areas quickly. The big man knew when they stopped, a good brush down was in order.

While they continued on to Grandfield, Ruben reluctantly returned his thoughts to the girl he sought, and of what her connection to the Boss might be.
Why is he willing to put out so much gold for just one woman? What does she have that he wants so badly?

He remembered the first time he had met the Boss. It had been almost five years ago...

He sat in a bar, minding his own business, drinking himself into oblivion, when a stranger came up to him. Ruben was startled when the shape sat down, as silent as a cat, next to him. The stranger was draped in a long, black, oversized cloak with the hood pulled up, hiding the face completely. It hung off him like there was nothing beneath it.

"Can I buy you a drink?” a soft, whispery tone emitted from the cloak.

"Whatever you like, pal. It's your money. Just don't expect anything for it.” Ruben's words were slurred.

"I only want a moment of your time."

The stranger held up a gloved hand and indicated for the barkeep to come over. When the man stood before them, the stranger said in the same whispery tone, “A drink for this gentleman, and a mug of warm cider for me."

After the barkeep walked away to fill their order, Ruben leaned back and snickered, “What's the matter? You a pansy or something? Can't hold your drink?"

The cloaked figure remained silent, which only fueled the verbal attack.

Ruben nearly toppled off the stool laughing at his own statements. He continued to pick at the stranger in his usual cruel fashion. “You a momma's boy? Want me to call your momma for ya?"

The barkeep returned with their drinks and waited for the payment. “That will be two bits of gold."

The stranger reached into the cloak.

"You too much of a wimp to handle it? Why don't you get a mug of milk and..."

Ruben stopped in mid-sentence as he saw five shiny pieces of gold hit the bar in front of the waiting man. An additional handful was set on the counter for future purchases.

"The extra three pieces are for your continued good service. More will follow if you do well."

The barkeep picked up the gold and pocketed the three pieces indicated for him while keeping the other two out. “Yes sir, thank you, sir. You let me know when you're ready for another round and I'll bring it straight away.” He was obviously thrilled at his good fortune, and hoped the other pieces resting on the counter were a sign of more to come.

"I'll let you know when we need your services again.” He dismissed the barkeep with a wave of the gloved hand.

Ruben watched the bartender walk away, still fingering the three gold pieces. The big man's eyes had nearly bugged out at the sight of so much gold. However, he was a cautious man. The drinks may have made the world a bit fuzzy, but he still had the ability to think straight. He kept his mouth shut and waited for the stranger to inform him of what it was he wanted.

"I have been watching you for some time, Ruben.” The face remained hidden deep in the shadows of the hood. Ruben stared at the person who sat beside him. He was surprised at the mention of his name, but kept it from showing.

"I want you to work for me. I've seen the many talents you possess, and I want to put them to a better use."

"What talents are you talking about?"

"The ability to lead men, to get from them what you desire, and the talent you possess in handling people when they get out of control."

"Other men can do that—why me?"

"Because I like your style. I like the way you enjoy your line of work. Not many people can handle the kind of pressure involved with it, and the killing that can happen.” The dark hood turned toward Ruben, unnerving him with the eeriness of its depth.

"I need that for my many projects. Someone who can listen, who can follow directions and come back with results. I will pay you handsomely if you join me.” He emphasized his words by patting the dark cloak. The chinking of many coins hitting each other echoed from the material.

"What makes you think I won't kill you and take that from you now?"

"Because you have standards. And killing without a reason is not one of them."

"How do you know these things?” Ruben's eyes reduced to slits as he leaned back in the chair and crossed his arms over on his chest.

"As I said before, I've been watching you."

Although the stranger intrigued him, Ruben did not like the situation in which he found himself. He had standards, as mentioned, but what good were they to the one who sat next to him?

"I want to know what jobs I'll be doing before I decide to work for you. And the cost for my services,” Ruben demanded. He picked up the mug of ale in front of him took a long draw from it.

"Of course,” whispered the unnerving voice from deep in the hood. “Meet me at the inn located in Grandfield and we'll talk. I like a little more privacy when we discuss business. Obtain a room after getting a bottle of whatever you want to drink. I will meet you there shortly."

"How do I know this isn't a trap or something?"

"You have nothing of value to me except your talents,” the stranger said as he glided from the chair and seemed to float toward the door. “What good would they be if you were dead?"

"Who should I say is coming?

"Tell the innkeeper the Boss is coming. He'll know what to do.” He was gone before Ruben could say another word.

Ruben looked back and saw the pile of gold left on the counter. “I might as well put these to good use.” He became even more rip roaring drunk than before the encounter.

The big man did what he was told, more out of curiosity than anything else; he went to Grandfield.

The inn was easy to find; it was the only one in town. He informed the clerk he was there to meet the Boss and was given the key to room 130. Ruben made his way down the hallway and discovered it was the last room on the right. No other sleeping rooms were near it. A storage area of some kind was across from it and a closet sat next to it. The hallway he walked down was the only way in or out of the area.

"Kinda odd place to put a room,” he muttered as he unlocked the door.

The room was dark except for the faint glow shining in from the hall. There were no windows anywhere. He discovered a set of half-used candles in holders on the small table by the door and a little pot with a hot coal in it sitting next to them, ready to light the candles when needed.

Ruben picked up the piece of coal with a set of tongs hanging on the wall. A pair of flames soon chased away the impenetrable darkness. A quick look around showed a room sparse of furniture. He put the coal back in the pot, then shut the door behind him.

A soft thud filled the room as the pack over his shoulder dropped onto the floor next to the table. He picked up one of the two candleholders and moved to a small table located in the back corner. Pulling out a chair, he sat down to wait, his sword within easy reach in case it was a trap after all.

He did not have long to wait. A slight rapping noise caught his attention. Before Ruben moved to answer it, the door burst open. Two armed men carrying swords and a third holding a whip burst inside. Two went to either side of the room while the last came straight at him.

Ruben whipped out his sword and met the charge head on. The sound of metal hitting metal echoed throughout the small room. The man tried to bring his weapon around for an uppercut; Ruben's weapon was there. Every time he attempted to cut at the big man trapped in the corner, a sword was there to meet it.