Free The Free Trader of Warren Deep (Free Trader Series Book 1) by Craig Martelle
Book: The Free Trader of Warren Deep (Free Trader Series Book 1) by Craig Martelle Read Free Book Online
Authors: Craig Martelle
flight, gaining altitude by making a wide circle, keeping the men in the middle of his vision.
They had a good lead, but with the cart, they could not hope to long outdistance the men. Braden didn’t want to fight. He did not know why he had such a streak of bad luck. He was used to being welcomed to towns, treated well, and given a happy send off. The last three towns had been nightmares.
This confirmed his decision to seek Old Tech. He needed to get away until things settled down. If he had to fight, let it be the unknown. The last thing he wanted was to be an outcast within his own land. If he killed these men, he wouldn’t be able to return. He doubted that he’d be able to return to Cameron or Binghamton. Memories were short; time would be his only friend.
He needed to buy more of it. So he doubled back, taking a wide route to the south and then west to the main road. Through Skirill’s eyes, he saw when to stop and let the men pass him, still following his tracks to the east. He then raced his team to the road, heading north as fast as the horses could run. He kept going until he could conceal a turn back to the east. He headed into the trees once again, stopping the horses well off the road.
He went back and erased their tracks. He left no sign for the men to follow. He walked the horses slowly deeper into the woods. Skirill floated to the south above the men who picked up their pace when they saw the track leading back toward the road. He watched through the Hawkoid’s eyes as the men reached the road, frantically looking about. When they picked up the track of the cart, one among many that had recently traveled the road, they galloped north.
And they kept going straight past where Braden had turned off. Skirill glided east, directing Braden along the best route until he could get into the open and put more distance between them and the men. G-War didn’t sense anything near them, so they pressed on.
Skirill made one last sweep toward the road, going higher and higher until he caught sight of the men as specks far to the north. Braden’s maneuver had lost them. He wanted to find out why they were following, but not badly enough to fight. Something was happening in Warren Deep, something unpleasant and dangerous.
If traders stopped trading, the towns would become outposts. Distrust would grow. Then fear. Fear drove people like a stampeding herd that couldn’t be turned. They couldn’t be stopped. All Braden wanted was to ply his trade, enjoy his life, and some future cycle of the seasons settle down. He couldn’t do any of that if he was constantly on the run. He breathed a sigh of relief. He was happy that he didn’t have to ambush the four men. The only way he could have won that fight was by killing them at a distance using his Rico Bow.
If they had no evil intent, then Braden would be the one in the wrong. He was certain that wasn’t the case, but was glad he didn’t have to find out.
They pushed forward until the horses were exhausted, even though daylight remained. Skirill winged away for one last look, seeing that no one followed. They were safe, for the moment anyway.
22 – The Caravan Rests
They camped by a small stream, where they drank freely. Braden filled the casks and his new stock of flasks. This increased the weight on the cart, slowing them down, but they had no other choice.
This part of the forest teemed with wildlife and shortly, G-War, Braden, and Skirill had killed a mix of rabbits and squirrels. Skirill ate his kills after ripping them apart and swallowing the pieces whole. Braden thought the Hawkoid must have one hell of a stomach to digest all of that. It made his stomach churn just to think about it. G-War avoided the bones when possible, preferring the softer parts of the flesh.
Braden liked his meat cooked. He cleaned two squirrels and one rabbit, letting them hang until nightfall. He wouldn’t risk a smoky fire in the daylight.
He searched the underbrush
They had a good lead, but with the cart, they could not hope to long outdistance the men. Braden didn’t want to fight. He did not know why he had such a streak of bad luck. He was used to being welcomed to towns, treated well, and given a happy send off. The last three towns had been nightmares.
This confirmed his decision to seek Old Tech. He needed to get away until things settled down. If he had to fight, let it be the unknown. The last thing he wanted was to be an outcast within his own land. If he killed these men, he wouldn’t be able to return. He doubted that he’d be able to return to Cameron or Binghamton. Memories were short; time would be his only friend.
He needed to buy more of it. So he doubled back, taking a wide route to the south and then west to the main road. Through Skirill’s eyes, he saw when to stop and let the men pass him, still following his tracks to the east. He then raced his team to the road, heading north as fast as the horses could run. He kept going until he could conceal a turn back to the east. He headed into the trees once again, stopping the horses well off the road.
He went back and erased their tracks. He left no sign for the men to follow. He walked the horses slowly deeper into the woods. Skirill floated to the south above the men who picked up their pace when they saw the track leading back toward the road. He watched through the Hawkoid’s eyes as the men reached the road, frantically looking about. When they picked up the track of the cart, one among many that had recently traveled the road, they galloped north.
And they kept going straight past where Braden had turned off. Skirill glided east, directing Braden along the best route until he could get into the open and put more distance between them and the men. G-War didn’t sense anything near them, so they pressed on.
Skirill made one last sweep toward the road, going higher and higher until he caught sight of the men as specks far to the north. Braden’s maneuver had lost them. He wanted to find out why they were following, but not badly enough to fight. Something was happening in Warren Deep, something unpleasant and dangerous.
If traders stopped trading, the towns would become outposts. Distrust would grow. Then fear. Fear drove people like a stampeding herd that couldn’t be turned. They couldn’t be stopped. All Braden wanted was to ply his trade, enjoy his life, and some future cycle of the seasons settle down. He couldn’t do any of that if he was constantly on the run. He breathed a sigh of relief. He was happy that he didn’t have to ambush the four men. The only way he could have won that fight was by killing them at a distance using his Rico Bow.
If they had no evil intent, then Braden would be the one in the wrong. He was certain that wasn’t the case, but was glad he didn’t have to find out.
They pushed forward until the horses were exhausted, even though daylight remained. Skirill winged away for one last look, seeing that no one followed. They were safe, for the moment anyway.
22 – The Caravan Rests
They camped by a small stream, where they drank freely. Braden filled the casks and his new stock of flasks. This increased the weight on the cart, slowing them down, but they had no other choice.
This part of the forest teemed with wildlife and shortly, G-War, Braden, and Skirill had killed a mix of rabbits and squirrels. Skirill ate his kills after ripping them apart and swallowing the pieces whole. Braden thought the Hawkoid must have one hell of a stomach to digest all of that. It made his stomach churn just to think about it. G-War avoided the bones when possible, preferring the softer parts of the flesh.
Braden liked his meat cooked. He cleaned two squirrels and one rabbit, letting them hang until nightfall. He wouldn’t risk a smoky fire in the daylight.
He searched the underbrush