Dungeon 42

The Trail

Chapter 171

Ban lifted his muzzle, drawing in a long breath through his nose. Behind him, the others watched in expectant silence. Still no scent and little trace, but no new trail sign either. They were likely on the right path or would find a message to the contrary soon.

They set off again without a word, tracking through sparse greenery after a week of scrublands. Taller trees loomed in the distance, unwelcoming. They provided more shelter against the elements but hid enemies as easily as they did his people.

They'd been searching for signs of his people once they made it out of the desert for nearly six days. It hadn't been easy going. They hadn’t been heading toward the valley exactly, but rather the general direction of the post town and lands beyond.

The elders hadn’t been convinced by Hetcha's story of the valley and its promise of safety. They'd thought it best that the band move to new lands and try their luck there. Still, it allowed them to pivot if Ban's investigation found any truth in the claim.

A claim Ban was overdue in reporting on thanks to the Seekers and the chase. He'd taken much more time than he'd thought he'd need to lead them away from the band before heading for the valley. The elders likely thought him and the rest dead.

The band would be heading for the post town but was thankfully slow-moving. They wouldn’t have made it to the desert's edge yet. Not without abandoning the weak and infirm among them, which they would not do.

So Ban kept looking, combing the ground for the scarce traces of their passage and hoping to catch onto a scent to let him know they were nearby, that he was catching up.

“Ban, we should rest a bit,” Ewen urged as midday approached. Ban was reluctant but signaled a halt.

“Thank the goddess,” Joss grumbled as he flopped down dramatically. They’d been tracking for days at a brisk pace, but not so hard as his theatrics suggested. Compared to their desperate flight to the valley, it was downright leisurely.

“Going to tell me I’m pushing us too hard?” Ban grumbled to Ewen. The other man was sitting down placidly to drink from his canteen and have some of the trail bread Duex had sent with them.

“Fuck no, I want to find them as badly as you,” Ewen replied flatly. Ban snorted at that involuntarily, and they both started laughing, though nothing about the situation was amusing.

After resting, Ban turned to look at Joss and found Elim offering him a flask. One that Joss was already bolting back before Ban could even think much about it. It wasn’t as if it was anything strange. A sip of something might help Joss feel better and complain less. Ban was just appalled by how much and how fast he drank. He could only hope Joss didn’t get drunk and whine the rest of the day.

Elim caught him looking and nodded, taking his flask back from Joss without comment. The human man had been like that most of the trip. He occasionally offered odds and ends or a drink around the campfire to make things easier, but was quiet otherwise.

He’d also taken charge of the supply cart, as no one else knew what to do with it. Ban was thankful for it but a little confused. He’d thought Elim was some minor noble or, at the very least, some rich human. Yet he seemed comfortable living rough and doing chores.

After the break, Joss didn’t grumble quite so much, and they continued on their way. It was another day before they found a new sign—a change of direction and a warning of enemies nearby.

Ban quickened his stride, praying silently all was well. He dreaded what state he might find their people in. Creating a slight swell in the land, he caught a faint trace on the wind and stilled. Ban dropped down on all fours, nose practically in the dirt as he started scenting, hoping it wasn’t just a wind-born phantom or his desperation conjuring wishes.

Finally, he found the faint but genuine trail and stopped once more. Ewen joined him quickly, along with Joss.

"How recent?" Joss muttered, crouching down beside him. He was young and hadn’t been trained fully yet. He couldn’t judge a trail precisely.

"Two days, perhaps,” Ban said, ears flicking nervously. Despite the lead, Ban and his group were faster, even with a cart. He couldn’t help looking about, trying to find the enemy the prior sign had indicated.

“We'll have to hurry. A storm’s brewing,” Ewen said, looking skyward. It was empty but dull-colored, and the air was heavy with moisture. If it broke before they found the band, they’d lose the trail and possibly take days to find it again.

Ban couldn’t stomach that idea, not with the hope of reunion dangling just before him. He looked at Joss and Ewen and found a similar resolve in their expressions. Rather than rest, they forwent sleep, traveling through the night by the moon's light as clouds gathered ominously.

It wasn’t until they reached the forest edge that they lost its light entirely. They should have stopped and made camp, but Elim tied up his horse and the mules with the cart and produced a magic stone that shed light like a torch. Without another word, they were off again, closing in on their people as the wind picked up to a howl and midnight approached.

It wasn’t until they were nearly at the encampment that Ban signaled Elim to stay back. A human wouldn’t be welcomed under the best circumstances, and coming unannounced at night would invite trouble. Elim stopped, tossing Ban the light stone rather than questioning or protesting the decision.

Even with the stone, Ban didn’t find the camp so much as find himself in the midst of it, spears at his neck. There was no real transition between the forest and the hideout. Confused but familiar faces squinted at him through the unexpected brightness.

Relief so profound it brought tears to his eyes hit Ban all at once. The guards looked terrible, haggard with dull and mangy pelts. Tears streaked down his face as he took them in. They were battered and threadbare but alive, and he’d found them.