The Sorcerer's Vengeance: Book 4 of the Sorcerer's Path by Brock Deskins Read Free Book Online

any direction.
    “Ice bear to be sure, but even you seadogs could tell that,” Farley remarked in his usual belligerent manner. “It’s a big one to be sure. He’s ten, twelve feet standing on his hind legs and well over a thousand pounds given the size and depth of the track. Hard to say how long ago he passed. These dry, freezing climes don’t like to tell their secrets much. I once followed the tracks of a huge stag north of End’s Run for three days. When I finally found it, it had been torn apart by wolves—more’n two days past.”
    The hunter touched the sharp edge of the print and watched the tiny bits of dry snow crumble into the deep impression. “I’m pretty sure this’n is fresh though, real fresh. Can’t be more’n about an hour or two old.”
    Zeb considered his options for a moment. “Me, Farley, Toron, Derran, and Ruben will take a sled and one of the scorpios just in case the bear’s got a big brother with him and follow the tracks. If we don’t find it by the time the sun sets we’ll turn around and come back. The rest of you pitch the tents, build a palisade, and put some warm food on. We should be back shortly after dark with or without the bear hide.
    “I don’t need to remind you boys to keep a sharp lookout. We have company out here and we don’t know what their intentions are, so you all keep alert and your weapons close at hand. Keep those crossbows loaded and the strings dry.”
    The men quickly unloaded one of the sleds and strapped down the bare essentials that Zeb and his hunting party needed for the hunt plus a little extra in case they could not make it back to camp that night. It was meager provisioning but it would allow them to survive a night in the frigid region.
    The sailors erected the tents first then began shoveling up piles of snow for the berm, packing it just inside the area they dug up to make the wall, creating a trench around the outside. Two men went out and cut down dozens of the spindly pines, sharpened the ends, and stuck them into the wall of packed snow around the camp. It was a minimal defense against a determined enemy but it was far better than nothing at all.
    Toron pulled while Ruben pushed the sled along, Farley kept his eyes pointed at the ground, and Derran scanned the land between them and the horizon. Zeb kept pace in the middle, the cold angering the rheumatism that had started to trouble him the last couple of years. He was thinking that if this was not his last hunting trip to the far north it was very near to it.
    It was probably not the best command decision for him to insist on leading the hunting party. It was a task far better suited to the younger and stronger men, but he loved the hunt and was loath to give it up. It was also the most dangerous part of their journey not counting the ship-crushing ice packs and high seas, and he was not the type of captain to send others where he would not dare to go himself. Maybe next year he would put Balor in charge of the hunting party and keep himself to the ship. The ship was a captain’s rightful place after all.
    Derran dropped two hares and the fox that was hunting one of the rabbits. His keen eye and masterful use of the crossbow brought them down without a missed shot. They skinned and scraped the hides, hastily flayed the rabbit meat off the bone, and packed it all away in minutes. Even Farley was having trouble determining if they were getting any closer to their quarry and the snow’s refusal to help the hunter in any way was quickly making him surlier than usual.
    “Damn all this snow! If it were snowing now I could tell you if we were getting closer, if there were some wind I could tell you, if the damn thing would even so much as take a crap it would give me something to go off to at least make a guess! For all I know, these tracks were made before the elves packed up and moved out of Valaria,” the hunter complained bitterly, taking a swig of powerful spirits from a small flask he