Chapter 4 - The Crusader

Celia strolled through the village, occasionally stopping to talk to the few people out and about on the streets. Most of the villagers regurgitated the same story. Disappearing girls. Foul magic at work. A witch or warlock hiding in the woods biding their time.

When Celia wasn’t pressing the villagers for information, she was shopping for supplies. She had purchased a thick wool coat and a pair of comfortable boots for Rain. Celia also looked into getting the boy a horse of his own, but she decided buying one in the city would be far cheaper. For now, he rode with her on Iota. In addition, she had also bought some supplies for the road. With her shopping list completed, Celia returned to the inn.

“You oughta skip town,” one of the hunters sitting by the inn’s front porch said once he realized the intent behind Celia’s questions. “Believe me, ain’t nothing out there. This Archon-damned weather makes it impossible to track anything. I don’t mean to be pessimistic, but there ain’t no hope for those girls.”

“It wouldn’t hurt to try.”

The hunter grimaced and returned to his task of weaving baskets. His expression said it all.

“You don’t think I’m capable, do you?”

“Feel free to try,” he said, setting his half-finished basket aside. “I’m starting to think this isn’t something ordinary folks like us can solve. The town head sent a bird to the local lord, and I’m sure he’ll send someone a little more qualified than you. But if you’re insistent on finding those girls, no one’s going to stop you. Or aid you either, for that matter.”

Celia nodded, pursing her lips into a thin line. “Can you at least tell me if there’s anywhere I can start?”

“Try Jain Lee. He’s been sniffing around the woods since they took his little girl. Poor sod thinks finding the missing girls will bring back his own.” The hunter pointed down the street. “His house is at the edge of the town. It’s the one that stinks of fish. Just keep following where I’m pointing, and you’ll find it with no problem. But be warned, that man’s a raving lunatic. Even before Caprice was taken, he was always a little odd.”

Celia gave a curt nod, then returned to the inn.

She explained her plan to Eloise and Rain over dinner.

“What makes you think talking to Jain Lee will help?” Eloise asked. “He seems to me just another unfortunate who was delt a bad hand by life. And I thought you were going to spend the night combing through the woods. What happened to that plan?”

Celia forked a piece of meat into her mouth. “I got hungry.” She turned to Rain. “Did talking to any of the local children help?”

He shook his head. “I think they’ve made a game of it. Guessing who will be taken next, I mean. They’re adamant Madeline is next. She’s the barmaid.”

“Any idea why?” Celia asked.

Rain shrugged. “They told me it’s because she’s pretty. Only the pretty girls get taken.”

Eloise sighed. “Naturally. We women of fair looks have it rough. You should count yourself lucky, Celia.”

“You did good work,” Celia said to Rain, ignoring Eloise’s proddings. “I hope this case can be solved by tonight, but if that’s not possible, see if you can learn more tomorrow.”

“I’ve come to a conclusion,” Eloise suddenly said, her blue eyes widening. “The villagers have scoured every inch of the woods, am I correct? But what if they’ve been looking in the wrong place this entire time. They run off to the woods, but we can’t know for sure that’s where they’ll stay. For all we know, they could be hundreds of miles away by now. But judging from the stench of black magic around here, I can confidently say the girls are still in this village.”

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Celia brought a napkin up to her mouth. “Where would they be? We can’t go around looking through every house.”

“I don’t know for sure, but-”

“Your hypothesis might very well be true,” a voice announced.

The Gransveltian from earlier stood over their table, his boots caked in mud. “Kleiman Val Reilmont, at your service,” he said with a deep bow, one hand gripping his hat. “I am inclined to agree with the lady.”

Celia’s face hardened as Kleiman pulled up a seat at their table. “I have searched wide and low,” he continued, fitting his hat back on his head. “If a Crusader can’t find anything, no one else can. What’s our plan?”

“Our plan?” Eloise scoffed.

Kleiman grinned, waving over Madeline, the barmaid that had served them earlier today. “A mug of beer,” he called. “And whatever these fine folks are having.”

Celia took the opportunity to study him. Despite his foppish behavior, Celia could tell the man was no stranger to a little hard work. The bulk of his muscles was apparent even under the layers of his expensive yet unembellished clothing. A long, slender sword was sheathed at his belt, and from what Celia could tell, he knew how to use it. Even relaxed over the dinner table, he looked to be ready to jump into a brawl at a moment’s notice.

“What do you think?” he asked, looking directly at Celia. “Would you trust me if I said I have only our best interests in mind?”

“I think you’re a little scuffed in the head,” Eloise retorted in Celia’s place.

He flicked at one of his sand-colored braids. “You’re hardly the first to describe me as such, lady. . ?” he trailed off, waiting for an answer.

“Eloise,” she answered with a huff.

Kleiman raised a bushy brow. “No surname then?”

“It’s just Eloise.”

“Noted,” Kleiman said, surveying everyone at the table. He took a particular interest in Rain. “And who might you be, young man?”

“None of your business,” Celia said gravely. “Now, what do you want from us, Crusader?”

Kleiman leaned forward, lowering his voice. “I want your cooperation. There are dark things at play in this village, and I need people to watch my back. In turn, I’ll watch yours.”

Celia wasn’t convinced. “We’re strangers. Why do you find us so trustworthy?”

Kleiman opened his mouth to speak but held his tongue as Madeline approached with his order. The barmaid glanced at him with a predatory smile. “Anything else I can get you?” she asked, setting a tray of beer and stew down on the table. “The cook baked up a batch of hotcakes, if you’re interested.”

“I’ll have to refuse that offer,” Kleiman said.

“Right,” Madeline said. Then she retreated to the kitchen, an empty tray balanced in her hands.

Once she was gone, Kleiman returned his attention to them. “There isn’t a soul alive in the business who doesn’t know about the Candoric Clan. Or, more specifically, their heir turned Hunter, Celia Candoric.”

“Former Hunter,” she corrected. “So, my family name is enough to convince you?”

He took a sip of his beer and chuckled. “The hunts you’ve completed are probably in the triple digits by now. I don’t trust your family name, rather your ability to get things done. Now that’s all been taken care of, what’s the next move?”

“Before I was so rudely interrupted, I was going to suggest divination,” Eloise said.

“No,” Kleiman said, shaking his head. “It would take only one wrong divination for an angry mob to run us out of town. I say we do this the old-fashioned way. We bide our time and investigate. Once we’re sure where the girls are being kept, we strike.”

“It wouldn’t hurt to try,” Celia said, giving the Crusader a pointed look. “We won’t act on it immediately, but it’s still a start. How much time do you need?”

“Half an hour with a quiet room to myself will be enough,” Eloise said. “If only Morgan was here. She was always better than me at these kinds of things.”

Celia snorted. “What you mean is better than you in general.”

“Not everything,” Eloise said with a sly smile. “I’ll go prepare.”

Eloise finished off what was left in her mug and stalked away from the table. She didn’t notice the long, thoughtful look Kleiman gave her as she disappeared up the stairs. “She looks familiar,” he mused. “I’m sure I’ve seen her somewhere before, but I can’t recall just where.”

“It must be your imagination,” Celia said, adding enough steel in her voice to make it clear to the Crusader he should drop the subject. “What do you hope to gain out of all this? You don’t look exactly strapped for silver.”

Kleiman groaned. “That’s the problem with your kind. Hunters, I mean. Is it so hard to believe a person can try to do good without expecting anything in return? No one else is trying to help these girls, and I doubt whoever the local lord will send can do much for them either.” He stuck his hand out for Celia to shake. “But we can help them.”

“Don’t make me regret this,” Celia growled as she took his hand with an iron grip. “I’ll be watching you, Crusader.”

“Likewise,” he returned with a toothy grin.

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Darkness was beginning to descend over the crossroads, and with it came the unpleasant night chills all Artorans were familiar with. Once again, Celia was thankful for her salamander cloak. She drew it around her shoulders a little more tightly. Kleiman trailed behind her just a few paces away, his unpleasant smile still plastered to his bearded face.

“So, what manner of questions do you have for me?” he asked, casually placing a hand on the pommel of his sword. “And is there a reason why we need to be alone?”

“Which campaign did you serve in?”

“The Crestlands under Lord-Commander Arval,” Kleiman said without missing a beat. He performed a mock salute, a fist over the heart, and took another deep bow. “I served as a member of his honor guard, until he took an arrow to the eye. I found out the hard way that they don’t kindly to Crusaders who fail their duty, and now here I am, a traveling, kind-hearted vagabond at your service.”

Perfect, Celia thought, her mind whirling furiously. “What happened to his assassin? Did she get away?”

“As a matter of fact, she did,” he said slowly. “It’s one of the reasons why they booted me. I don’t mean to pry, but you’re acquainted with the assassin?”

“I don’t think that’s any of your business,” Celia said.

“That’s where you’re wrong,” he shot back. “I told you nothing but the truth, and I expect the same standard from you. The Crusader life is well past me, and I couldn’t care less about the assassin now. But if we’re to work together, I need to know you’ll be honest and up front with me.”

Celia folded her arms and bit the inside of her cheek. “We were friends once,” she said dryly. “She tried to kill me. We’re not friends anymore. Happy?”

Kleiman nodded, but he didn’t look entirely satisfied. “That works for now,” he said. “Is there anything else you need to know?”

He gave her one last look and turned back to the inn. “You’ve got many secrets, Celia Candoric,” he said over his shoulder. “Perhaps one day you’ll find it in you to trust me with them.”