Broken Forest: Book One of the Daath Chronicles Read Online Free Page A

would survive this.
    The girl across from me coughed.
    I followed the sound, scooting closer to her. “Do you know where they’re taking us?” I whispered.
    “No, and you must be silent. Please.”
    “I will, just a few more questions. I promise he won’t hear us.”
    When she didn’t respond, I continued. “Where are you from?”
    “Urima,” she said.
    “Urima? How? That’s on the other side of The Valley of the Kings.”
    “I don’t know…”
    Urima was on the western shores of Tarrtainya and, due to the long valley, there were only a few passage-ways to it. It would take a normal caravan weeks, possibly months, to make the journey.
    “Do you know why they took us?”
    “No, but I heard one of the guards say they only had a few more girls to collect.”
    “Collect? For what?”
    An object banged against the side of the wagon, scaring me so that I lost my breath. The girl placed a hand over my mouth. I could just make out her fear-stricken face.
    I nodded, but it was already too late.
    The wagon door flung open.
    “I thought I said no talking, girl.”
    His dark hand reached for me, and I screamed, louder than I ever had before.

Silence surrounded us. No chirps, no big bellied frogs, nothing, not even the wind. Doubt taunted me. All my life I’d wanted to adventure outside of Lakewood. To go on a grand quest and become a heroic ranger. I’d pestered my father to teach me everything he knew about herbs, hunting and tracking. It seems luck has a sense of irony.
    The trail we followed from the woods led to one of the main trade routes. Derrick guzzled water out of a canister while I assessed the road. Grooved into the dirt were big wagon tracks continuing north. Jeslyn’s footsteps disappeared next to one of them. I counted four wagons next to six horses. Calli described the men as ragged looking. I assumed they were Roamers, nomads passing through. I should have known they would be with a larger group. Roamers always travelled in packs.
    “What is it?” Derrick’s husky voice cut through the eeriness.
    “There are more than three kidnappers.” I pushed my flap of hair out of my eyes and sighed.
    “What do you mean ‘more’?”
    “The tracks we’ve been following end with these wagons. She must be in one of them.”
    Derrick rubbed his forehead. “How many men?”
    “Maybe ten, maybe twelve. I can’t be certain.”
    Derrick’s face scrunched in horror. “Twelve men? We can’t handle that many.”
    I refused to believe that. “We’ll surprise them. Set traps if we have to. We’re both skilled fighters, and I can take down at least three with my bow before they suspect a thing. We can do this.”
    Derrick began pacing. The claymore strapped to his back bobbed with each step. “This is different, Avi. We should go back to the village and get help.”
    I shook my head. “No, it will take too long. By the time we return here it’ll be almost two days. And what if it rains? These tracks will vanish.” I turned away from him and petted my horse, Brushfire, before climbing back onto the saddle.
    Derrick’s shoulders slouched. “I hope you’re right.”

    We rode hard and swift, pushing the horses to their limits and only taking brief moments of rest. By sunset on the second day, we had to stop.
    “How could they be so far ahead of us?” Derrick said. “They’re in wagons!” He tied the horses to a large tree and we searched for water.
    “I don’t know,” I said, rubbing my scalp. “We should have caught up to them by now.” Every dung I had checked was old, none of it made sense. We were moving fast. Wagons couldn’t move faster than us.
    A wolf howled in the distance. I shivered. A fog had rolled in with the setting suns, covering the bottom of the forest. I surveyed the tall pine trees and tried to pinpoint our location. We headed straight, north on the eastern trade route, which would bring us to—Raswood Forest.
    “Derrick,” I said, pulling my long sword out.
    Derrick