Seeker (The Source Chronicles Book 1) Read Free Page A

smuggling.  Sixty gold pieces later, twenty per constable, they continued along the road as if no pause had occurred.
    Ahead he saw the crossroads that ran southwest towards the ocean, and northeast towards Tarmollo, ending at Vantu. 
    He shivered at the thought of Tarmollo, remembering the horror from a half a decade ago.  He’d lost a few friends, fellow merchants, to that terrible incident.
    Passing the crossroads, he noted a trio of Kingdom Roadsmiths ahead, wearing yellow tabards with the device of the nation on the back, which denoted their line of employment.   This was the third such group they’d encountered this day.  Each had shovels, and there was a wheelbarrow and other assorted tools used in the maintenance of the pathway just off the side of the road.
    “Hm,” the constable beside him grunted.  “Three days ago, when I passed this way last, the road was perfectly fine at this point.  Seems odd.”
    The merchant said nothing as they passed the Roadsmiths, who paused to watch them go by.
    “I suppose they must be paid to do something,” remarked the merchant with disgust.  To his mind, a man would have to be in the direst situation to have to resort to such base labor.
    Suddenly, the constable on horseback at the rear cried out.  The merchant turned, and saw the Roadsmiths around him, having clearly pulled him from his horse, swords drawn. 
    Before the constable riding ahead of them could do anything, a trio of armed men emerged from the trees, one pointing a crossbow directly at his chest.
    The merchant took a gasping breath, as the constable beside him attempted to rise up and draw his sword.  But someone grabbed him by the front of his tunic before he could finish standing, and pulled him roughly from the cart.
    The merchant was terrified as their assailants had the road completely blocked, leaving no escape.  He glanced about, saw the mounted constable surrounded, hands up in surrender, the other two peace officers on the ground with swords keeping them there.  He was afraid to move further, uncertain what to expect.
    Scared as he was, the merchant had managed to count eight attackers.  One of them, a young man with a clean-shaved face, holding a rapier, was obviously approaching him.
    “Step down from your cart, please,” he said calmly.
    Without hesitation, the merchant complied.  The young man gestured with his sword, and the merchant moved towards the unhorsed constable at the rear.
    “Woolens?” the young man questioned conversationally. 
    “Wha…what?” the merchant asked in response.
    His young captor smiled.  “You have these various bolts of wool from Tuvann, en route to Korma, no?  Wool, right?  Not cotton or silk?”
    “Yes.  Wool,” replied the merchant nervously.  They had reached the constable, who was on his feet again.  Both were now marched to the side of the road.
    “It is going to be getting colder, soon,” the young man continued.  “Your contribution to our cause will be greatly appreciated.”
    The merchant noted the other two constables had been brought together, and were being marched to the other side of the road.  When he and the rear constable reached the treeline, their captives made them sit back to back.
    “We shall not kill you, as you may have feared,” the young man said.  “We do not kill indiscriminately.  Once we are gone, you may go as soon as you free yourselves.”
    Ropes were tied about the Merchant’s wrists and ankles, and a moment later they tied him and the constable together back to back.  Unable to fight, he could do nothing when they removed his coin pouch.
    All four of their assailants were on the road again, two of them tossing the wheelbarrow and tools into his cart.  The other attackers must have finished with the last pair of constables, and clearly went to the young man.
    “What now, Nadav?” questioned one of the men.
    The young man responded.  “We take these back to base.  That is what she ordered