Osric Vayne's Arc

Chapter 2 of 2

By dawn the silver had become a burden. Osric's men hauled four heavy chests along a wooded trail, and each step slowed them further. Sweat soaked their backs. Behind them, a horn sounded twice. The noble house had sent soldiers on horses, and the horses were closing the gap. Alleria climbed a rise and looked back through the trees. "Two dozen riders," she said. "We carry silver. They carry swords and full bellies." She dropped down beside him. "You can't win a race with your arms full." Osric knew she was right. His men would die for the chests, or drop them and run. He would not let it come to either. He pointed to the river below. "We split the load. Bury three chests here, under the roots. We carry one and run loud. Leave a trail they can follow." "You want them to chase you," Alleria said. "I want them to chase one chest. Not four." He set his men digging. They wrapped three chests in cloak and dirt and packed them under a fallen tree. Osric marked the spot in his mind by a split gray stone. The men hated it. One spat at his feet. "You're giving it back to them." "I'm keeping it," Osric said. "Move." They ran with the last chest, crashing through brush, snapping branches, leaving boot prints in the mud. The horn drew nearer. Alleria stayed at the rear with her bow. When the first rider broke through the trees, she loosed one arrow and dropped him from the saddle. The others reined up, wary now, slowed by the corpse in their path. That pause was enough. Osric's men reached a narrow gorge where horses could not follow. They scrambled down and forded the shallow river. On the far bank, Osric turned and watched the riders search the muddy trail. They found the single chest's tracks and followed, drawn away from the buried three. But a soldier at the rear did not follow. He stood at the tree line, and beside him crouched a black wolf with yellow eyes, straining at a leather leash. A tracker. The beast lifted its head and swung its nose toward the split gray stone. Osric's stomach dropped. He had hidden the silver from men. He had not counted on a nose. "They have a hunting wolf," Alleria said. She nocked another arrow, but the range was too great. "It'll find your chests by nightfall." Osric looked at the far bank, at the beast pulling toward his buried fortune. One chest was safe across the water. Three were as good as lost the moment that wolf reached the roots. "Then we don't run," he said. "We go back for it. Tonight. Before they dig." He had bought his men their lives and one chest of silver. He had left three behind, and now a yellow-eyed hound stood ready to hand them back to his enemies.