“Name’s Darwin, by the way. I know you must’ve been wonderin’,” Darwin smiled a sheepish grin. He had a steep widow’s peak. His hair was short and brown but not buzzed. The hair on top of his head appeared soft and fluffy, blowing backwards with the wind. His eyes were wicked and criminal. His eyes were what bothered Tristan most. They were constantly smiling with his mouth, but the pits of his eyes gave away his malice.
“We’re just passing through. Not looking for any trouble. We’ve got a man down--”
Darwin cut off Tristan, putting out a hand to signal him to hold his thoughts. “Oh, we don’t care about your friend, although, I must say--what a shame. Your group must’ve passed through Whisperton, I figure…that place is FULL of dark magic…you know--that black stuff that’s killin’ all our food and what not.” Darwin strode up to Tristan, hands hanging on his sword belt. A small hatchet hung there. He had handed his stave to his second-in-command, who stood clumsily behind Darwin with long greasy blonde hair. His face reminded Tristan of a horse.
“He get bit?” asked Darwin.
“Yes,” snarled Asherin, who was hovering over Kenton protectively.
“AHA!” Darwin doubled over, over-exaggerating every movement. “Wow--I wouldn’t mess with her! She looks more like a bear than a woman. Huge breasts too. Nice!”
Tristan felt his hand go to Drakiler instinctively. Darwin noticed and put his hand out, a patronizing look spread over his face. “Aw, you know what--my fault. I should’ve done this from the start. Lay down your weapons. We’ll take those now. As for the food, we’ll search your stuff once we’re done talking and spare you the trouble. Your group must be exhausted…where you headed anyways?” Darwin’s tongue ran across his teeth, his eyes darted from Tristan to Eamon and back to Tristan.
“We’re looking for someone,” said Tristan, not knowing what else to say.
Darwin stared at Tristan, his eyes narrowing. “Ahhh, you know what…so are we!” he turned back to his men, eyes narrowing. “Say--Simon, do you still have that crude drawing that Eraq so kindly drew up?”
The man called Simon began rummaging through his bag and then withdrew a weathered, yellow paper. “You mean this one? The one that King Tarren passed out a few months ago?”
“Yes, that one.” Darwin snatched the paper out of Simon’s hands. He studied it, and then lifted his gaze across the group. His eyes finally landed on Tristan. He turned the paper, showing Tristan the drawing. “Now you tell me if you’ve seen this man. If you’ve got a lead on him, maybe I’ll just let you keep your horses there--and that’s a BIG if.”
Tristan studied the paper. He felt like he was looking at a somewhat butchered drawing of himself. In fact, it looked like his father, Gareth, only twenty years younger. “Who is this supposed to be?” asked Tristan.
“Some young heir to an old legend…Blackthorn family, I think they’re called. Anywho--the Lord Commander issued the notice a while back. Guess he thinks the Blackthorn kid’s gone rogue. Supposedly he’s working against the kingdom now…big prize if anyone finds him and brings him back. And you know--I’d say you were him if I were to trust my instincts. But, well…” Darwin looked back at his cronies. Most still had their weapons bared and arrows knocked. “We’ve seen how my instincts have gotten me into trouble before.” Darwin flashed another dark grin. He folded up the drawing and passed it back to Simon. Simon grabbed it fearfully and hurriedly put it back in his pack.
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“Alrighty, let’s get to it. Lay down your packs and step aside. This will only take a minute.”
Tristan went first, then the rest of the group followed suit, laying down their packs and bedrolls. Asherin laid Kenton down in the grass at the crest of a small foothill. He moaned, turning his head from side to side as if in some agonizing, disturbing dream. His face was pale and his lips were a blueish-purple.
Darwin and his men rummaged through their belongings, tossing anything that wasn’t food out onto the road in a dismal, cluttered mess.
“Thank you for your swift cooperation,” said Darwin. “I’ll even add in a little gift for your friend there since he seems to be struggling so bad.” Darwin signaled with a flick of his head for Simon to hand over a medicine pack to Asherin. “This’ll clean him up good. Straight from the Capitol. Consider that a token of mutual respect.” Darwin whistled and his group began to pack up and prepare to roll out.
“Oh, one more thing…” Darwin strutted his way down the road, passing between members of Tristan’s group. “From now on, you stay off this road. Is that clear?” Darwin’s face was no longer friendly and patronizing. It was furrowed and filled with a contained rage. It reminded Tristan of one of those black storm clouds that is threatening more than a mere storm. “This road belongs to no one but the Takers. You see, there are two kinds of people in this world…there are givers, and there are takers. We know what type of people we are. And when you’ve got all this…” Darwin peered around at the foothills, the trees, the road, “disease-infected poison laying around, you’ve got to take what you need to survive. It’s that simple. Because unless you living in or around the Capitol under the blessing of the king, you will soon die out. This land ain’t fit for ordinary people no more.” Darwin paused, then returned to his group and resumed his normal cheerful, eerie grin. “Best of luck to ya! And oh--don’t forget. You see that Blackthorn fella--you come to me. I will see that you are rewarded handsomely.” Darwin gave a shrill whistle and his group fell into line.
Tristan and the group were on foot now. Eamon watched with a scowl as Darwin rode off on his majestic beast, one of Feynram’s finest. When the last of the Takers had ridden off down the road in the direction they had just come, it was Eamon who spoke first.
“I’ll take my men and we’ll follow them. Tristan can take the rest of you onward, we’ll catch up later. We’re going to get our horses and our weapons back.”
“I don’t know if that’s a smart--” began Tristan.
“We won’t make it far without our weapons, let alone our horses. It’ll take us twice as long to get to our destination without the horses. And by that point, Basidin’s Servants will be past the point that we are hoping to encounter them. They’ll have mutilated and diseased the last standing acreage of cropland. Then Darwin’s vision will be correct. We’ll all starve--Denderrikans and Citizens of Windem alike. King Tarren isn’t just trying to win this war, he’s trying to start a new society that belongs solely to the Stormhold, or Rarington, if you’d like.”
Tristan reluctantly agreed, trying to ignore the painful sounds of mercy stemming from Kenton. “I suppose you’re right. Besides, we’ll have to wait a while before we can travel with Kenton. Let us hope that medicine works.”
The group found a hidden spot on the other side of the foothills and made camp for the night. They did not light a fire for fear that another group of bandits might discover them.
“No ruler reigns here. This is a land of outlaws, and we ought to be careful. I say we stick to the trees and stay off the main road,” said Tristan.
“No wonder we’ve hardly encountered anyone. I wonder how many other innocents have been troubled by the Takers,” replied Loren. Asherin did not say a word, only stared glumly with Kenton’s head resting in her lap.
There were only four of them now. Vitarko was still gone. Eamon and his guards were in pursuit of the Takers. The group sought sleep the best they could that night, but only Kenton truly slept. His moans turned to snores, which Tristan thought might be a good sign.