The White Wolf (Half-Breed Book 1) (6 page)

Varg turned back towards the desk and without looking at Milea, he said, “I think I found it.”

Milea replaced the lid back on the tack box she was sifting through and said, “Oh good. Let's hope it works.

Varg knelt before the drawer and slowly pushed the key into the hole as it if would disintegrate if not handled properly. He turned the key to the left and upon hearing the click, heaved a sigh of relief and opened the drawer. He looked inside expecting to find treasures and terrible secrets only to discover the drawer was empty.

“What in the world . . .?” Milea uttered.

“Why bother locking a drawer if nothing was inside?” Varg said.

Milea examined the drawer further, and then said, “Wait a moment.”

Milea grabbed lowered the candle to get a better look inside the drawer. After a quick examination, she seemed to have spotted something peculiar, so she reached under the drawer and knocked. Then she used her other hand to reach inside the drawer. Within a minute, she pulled the bottom of the drawer up, revealing a secret compartment.

Varg stared in awe as Milea propped the piece of wood to the side of the desk and asked, “How did you know?”

“I could see a tiny gap between the edge of the drawer and the bottom, and when I knocked I could tell that the wood was hollow. Then I felt a hole in the back and pulled the false bottom outwith my finger,” she explained. “Now let's see what Lionel was so desperate to hide.”

From the secret compartment, Milea pulled an old leather book. She opened it to reveal messy handwriting on crumpled pages. She ran her cautious fingers over the illegible text and gently turned the pages as though they were thousands of years old.

“I think this is Lionel's journal,” she said.

Varg peeked at the writings and couldn't understand a word of it. “What use is a journal if we can't read the handwriting? I think Lionel mixed his writing and wine a bit too much.”

Milea stared at the document and ran her fingers over the pages and said, “This is Elvish, Varg.”

“Elvish?” Varg asked in disbelief, “But how—?”

“I haven't the slightest idea. Aside from me, there hasn't been a single elf outside the Crystal Wood in centuries,” Milea said. “As far as the human realm is concerned, Elvish is a dead language.”

“What could be so important in that journal that Lerington would write in an unreadable language to keep anyone from finding out?” Varg wondered.

“There is only one way to find out,” Milea answered. She began at the first page and skimmed the text, then said, “I am not as fluent in Elvish as I used to be, but I may be able to translate this.”

She began to flip through the pages when Varg suddenly stopped her.

“Look here,” Varg said, “a page is missing.” He then fished the old scrap of paper he took from Lionel's possessions and held up the left side to the tear mark to compare it. Despite having been soaked, torn, and folded, the paper was a perfect match.

Varg nodded and exchanged a glance with Milea. “No doubt about it, this paper came from Lionel's journal.”

“You're right, and look here.” She then pointed to the opposite page where there was a tiny sketch of a man in a black hood in the corner and said, “Look familiar?”

“Just like the men who attacked us in Birhog,” Varg said.

“This journal is exactly what kind of evidence we've been looking for,” Milea said. “Who knows what other information we'll find in its pages?”

“Maybe now we can—” Varg stopped abruptly and began to sniff the air.

“What is it?” Milea asked.

“We need to leave,” Varg answered.

“What? Why?”

“Now,” Varg said more urgently.

He grabbed Milea by her free arm and urged her towards the door, despite her many questions and protests. She still carried the journal and Varg finally got her running through the door. Of all his enhanced senses, his smell was top notch. Varg knew danger when he smelled it, and this time it came in the form of smoke.

Varg allowed Milea to run in front of him, so she'd be in less danger, and followed her to the staircase.

“What the—who are you?”

Varg and Milea stopped in their tracks and turned to see a guard marching out of one of the bedrooms behind them. The agitated guard drew his sword and boldly pointed it at the intruders.

“I'm sorry, we were just leaving,” Varg said in a hurry.

The guard boldly inched forward. “Don't even think about running! You're under arrest for trespassing in the Count's castle!”

Varg stood his ground, but hurriedly said, “Look, there is danger nearby and you need to run before it you get hurt.”

Before the guard could argue, Lionel's study erupted in a deafening inferno behind him. The force of the blaze sent the shocked guard flying forward and onto the floor. Varg turned and rushed towards Milea to shield her, and he ended up falling on top of her. Once the blast calmed, Varg looked down and saw Milea was fine, but irked.

It was then that Varg realized his hand was on Milea's breast. He jerked his hand back and jumped off of her in a hurry, trying to stutter an apology. “I swear I didn't mean to . . . I mean, it did feel nice, but . . .”

Milea stood and quickly composed herself. “Never mind that. We need to help that guard!”

Varg ran to the guard's side, picked him up, and flung him over his shoulder. He then trotted down the stairs with Milea behind him.

“This way!” they heard a man yell.

“Go back through the garden,” Milea urged.

Varg did so, and fortunately there weren't any guards in sight. Varg ran across the courtyard without caring that anyone saw them, and once he made it to some brush near the outer wall, he set the guard down against the stone. The guard had a few minor burns and was out cold, but was otherwise unharmed.

“Thank Laelith for your sense of smell,” Milea said after she place a small healing potion next to the guard.

“It's never failed me yet,” Varg said proudly.

“I can only assume that it was one of the assassins who did that,” Milea said. “The question is, how?”

“I smelled smoke coming from the window area, as if a fuse had just been lit. I assume they scaled the building without the guards noticing and set the explosion to get rid of us,” Varg explained.

“And destroy Lionel's study,” Milea offered.

“Which means they knew about Lionel's journal, or at least knew he had some form of evidence in his study,” Varg said.

“What's more, now that they're following us, we'll need to cover our tracks,” Milea dreaded.

Varg nodded and scanned the yard to make sure he couldn't see any assassins that caused the blaze, but only saw the fire from Lionel's study spreading to the other rooms of the castle. The guards tried desperately to control it, but despite their efforts the fire engulfed the entire second floor. Varg turned back to Milea and said, “We'd better make a break for it while they're distracted.”

“You're right,” Milea said.

Once they were sure they'd left the guard where he could be found, they scaled the wall using the rope Varg left behind and tumbled onto the dirt on the other side. They scrambled to their feet before anyone could investigate the noise they made and ran into the night, leaving nothing but the charred remains of Count Lerington's castle in their wake.

Once they were clear of the village and the keep, they slowed to a walk and Milea began to flip through the pages of Lionel's journal.

“Well, what next?” Varg asked.

“I think we should head south. I saw something in the journal about a gang stronghold near a village called Wild Valley.”

Varg stopped in his tracks and his expression dropped. “Wild Valley?”

“Yes, do you know it?”

After a brief silence, Varg answered, “I know it.”

“Do you remember how to get there?”

“Not entirely, but I do have a map I took from Lionel's study,” Varg said. He removed the map from his pocket and unfolded it.

“It's just past the border between Virland and Ironbarrow, in this forest region,” Varg said as he pointed to an area on the map. “That river runs through the village, so if we find the river, we just follow it southeast to Wild Valley.”

“Excellent,” Milea said. “Lucky for us, you've been there.”

“Of course,” Varg muttered.

Varg tried his best to avoid eye contact with her to avoid having to explain his sudden change in attitude and walked ahead of her until they found a place to make camp. They set up their equipment and snacked on bread before going to sleep. Varg rested his head on the cloth of his sleeping sack and tried to relieve the sense of dread he had, but to no avail.

Why, of all places in the world, did he have to return to Wild Valley?

Night had fallen over Rivershire and Count Edric Greenwood paced in his bed chamber as he anxiously awaited news on the two fugitives who escaped Rivershire. The Count knew his actions that led to this situation were rash, but Lionel's discoveries could have lead back to him. It was unfortunate, but with his freedom and right to rule Rivershire on the line, Edric had no choice but to kill his old friend. Now he had heard the two upstarts he tried to set up to take the fall not only evaded capture at every corner, but had launched their own investigation into why Lionel was murdered in the first place.

Edric felt a sudden chill, so he searched about for the source of a draft. He discovered that the doors to his balcony were open and letting in a light wind. He hadn't left it open, but he didn't have time to wonder about it, so he simply approached the doors and shut them tight. He turned around again and nearly fainted when he saw a man he'd never seen before standing in front of his fireplace.

With a gasp for air, Edric faced the intruder and asked, “Did the Serpent send you?”

The man turned away from the fireplace and walked forward. Now that the lit candle next to the Count's bed shone upon the strangers face, Edric could see that he was an assassin unlike the rest. He was not clad in black, at least not entirely, but had gray and blue clothing covering his dark, scarred skin and on his belt, he wore a silver and blue scimitar. His hair was pale blonde and his eyes were a rich aquamarine. His pointed ears indicated some kind of Elvish heritage.

“He did,” the stranger said. “You may call me Tain.”

Tain removed a dagger from his belt, which made Edric take several steps back in panic.

Tain simply stared and uttered, “Calm down. I am not here to kill you . . .yet.”

The Count boldly let his guard down. “The Serpent is quite cross with me, so you will have to forgive my suspicious nature.”

“'Cross' isn't quite the word I'm looking for,” Tain said. He then began to twirl the small blade in his fingers and added, “Although it is a much nicer word than I would use.”

“I take it that apprehending the fugitives has been less than successful?” Edric asked, making his way to his chair.

“The ambush in Birhog proved to be no match for them. The men we sent to kill them in Virland were unable to kill them as well,” Tain explained. “What's more, now they've figured out we're tracking them. We followed their trail to the west, but they started covering their tracks, so we've lost them for the time being.”

Edric slumped into his chair in defeat and said, “Oh dear.”

Tain started twirling his dagger again, then said, “Not to worry, for we may know where they are going.” The Count gave Tain a questioning look, to which he answered, “There is a trail at the border of Ironbarrow southeast of their last position that is covered in rocks and canyons. I believe they would head there next so they won't leave any tracks. You know as well as anyone that they cannot leave Fellen with a bounty on their heads, since there are wanted posters for them at every border. Their only option is to look for answers to clear their names. Ironbarrow is the only territory they could head to next.”

“Lionel has family in Ironbarrow,” Greenwood muttered.

“Not only that, but we have a stronghold near the border, so if Lerington had something in his study about that, then that's probably where they are going,” Tain said. “The Serpent will be sure they are greeted properly when they arrive.”

“The Serpent seems rather confident for someone who rarely shows his face to anyone,” Edric remarked.

“He's a busy man. When he hasn't the time to deal with undesirables, he hires men like me to do it,” Tain said.

“Undesirables?” Edric shot up from his chair. “You dare to sneak into my home like a common thief and speak to me in the most condescending tone, even though I outclass you by more than you wish you could achieve. Then you have the nerve to gloat about your employer when he hasn't the gall to face the man who gave him the clearance he needed to search for the item he seeks himself! If it weren't for the money I supply him with to keep my enemies at bay, he wouldn't have had the money to hire you, so don't forget your place.”

“If it weren't for your little episode with Lerington, the Serpent's organization wouldn't be compromised,” Tain remarked.

“I had no choice! Lionel was about to take his evidence to the King. If the King were to take the accusations seriously and begin an investigation, it would only be a matter of time before my involvement was brought to light. Perhaps the Serpent should avoid hiring rogues outside of his organization who can leak such secrets,” Edric said.