The door stopped opening while it was only halfway ajar, the slight misalignment of its hinges causing it to begin the slow crawl back towards the frame. A clinking thud, followed by another, indicated that a pair of swords had just been thrown to the ground within. The team glanced at each other as no further sounds of disarmament were forthcoming. As the one closest, Riptide stuck out a blocking foot, before prodding the door back into motion. The space that was revealed to them had been used as a study, or some sort of reading room, now given over to chaos due to its occupants' desperation. Standing sheepishly behind a tipped over cabinet and an upside-down writing desk was a frightened and upset looking Bald, his shoulders hunched dejectedly and his eyes glued to the floor. Next to him was the last rider, his hood removed, revealing him to be an early middle-aged man with short, brown hair and a short, patchy beard that made him look as if he’d attempted to shave aboard a ship during a storm. He looked straight at them, his eyes burning with frustration as he surveyed the men who had pinned him down. Both men had their hands kept conspicuously behind their backs, inviting immediate suspicion upon their motives.

  “Let me see those hands. Hold them out in front of you.” Riptide ordered.

  The rider was quick to reveal the fact that he was holding nothing, but the man they called Bald was not so willing, and he balked at the instruction. His breathing grew more erratic, his face growing increasingly pale as he struggled with some internal conflict. The rider shot him a nervous glance out of the corner of his eye, spotting something which caused his eyebrows to shoot upwards. A gesture which did not go unnoticed.

  “Hey! What’s he got back there, huh? What’s he hiding?” Riptide demanded.

  The rider turned back to them and opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by a sudden retching as Bald doubled over, his shoulders heaving as he took a ragged, gasping breath. A second later a spew of dark yellow vomit burst from his mouth, causing his arms to inadvertently fail around to cover his face. Second to this disgusting, eye-catching display, was the accompanying thud as a long-bladed knife embedded itself in the floorboards behind him.

  “Lovely.” Riptide rolled his eyes and took a step into the room, using the threat of his rifle to cause the rider to back away into a corner. “You got anything else sharp hidden away?”

  “I’m not carrying anything else.” The rider pointed towards one of the swords, and Bald recovered enough to simply shake his head and slouch over to join him.

  Carefully stepping over the furniture, and avoiding the foul-smelling puddle, Riptide again used a foot to stamp down on and drag the knife away.

  “Team Three, the situation is now under control. You’re free to pack up and join us.” Alter ordered as he followed the others into the ruined study.

  “What do you want with us? What’s going to happen?” The rider asked, his voice measured but there was a faint yet detectable tremble.

  “Oh, you're not in any immediate danger, so long as you don’t try anything stupid. Like hiding a knife.” Boozehound answered airily, though his last comment was punctuated by a quite stern look.

  “To more directly answer your question, you are now to be considered prisoners of war, or at least some manner of equivalent. Once we’re all finished here, you will be transported back to Jestriff for interrogation and incarceration. Prove yourselves useful and agreeable, and I’m sure you’ll find that the quality of life isn’t too bad at our Lord Masserlind’s pleasure.” Alter explained from the doorway.

  The rider had no immediate answer, seeming to instead be content to glare in silence as he submitted to a body search.

  “One, this is Team Four, update for you.” The radio crackled as Whim reported in.

  Alter turned away and stepped back out into the landing before responding and giving the go ahead.

  “The workers have split up, they’ve gone in completely opposite directions. We are not comfortable with following suit, and we weren’t about to go chasing after one of them without checking in first. Requesting instructions.” Whim informed him through gritted teeth, frustrated at the interruption of his little hunt.

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  Alter leaned an elbow against the wooden banister as he pondered the situation, the wood creaking loudly in protest of his weight. His initial want was to tell them to hold position until reinforcements arrived, it being the safest option he could take without fully disengaging. But that would allow the workers even more time to slip the net and inform their allies of what had happened.

  “Stick together and continue the pursuit, select one of the trails and we’ll pick up the other once we’re on the scene.”

  “Understood. We’ll take the left-side, it's vaguely downhill.”

  Alter snorted as he turned back towards the room. How very ‘tactical’ of him. Noise from outside signalled Pavejack and Walross’ arrival, and there was a strangely polite knock on the front door. Alter descended to let them, briefly considering asking them for a password from the other side, but soon decided that childish humour didn’t fit the situation before unlocking the door and guiding them upstairs. Once they had integrated themselves into the goings on, he called the other members of the command team down to join him in the kitchen.

  “I’m sure you both heard the message from Whim. I’m going to lead another team to follow the right-hand path, and I want to leave as soon as possible. Three, do you want to stay here and monitor the situation, or would you rather be a part of the chase?”

  “I don’t mind either way, there are no medical emergencies here that require my attention so I’m free to move.” Boozehound shrugged.

  “Alright,” Alter nodded and turned to Riptide. “Do you mind if I leave you in charge here with Five and Six while the rest of us head out?”

  “I can do that. I’m assuming you want our new prisoners moved out of the farm once we’re ready to head out?” Riptide seemed a little put out at the prospect of being left behind but remained stoic.

  “If you could wrap them up and take them back to camp, I’d be most appreciative. The two of us will go and unhitch the horses, could you send Four down when you go back up?” Alter gave him a thumbs up and, together with Boozehound, headed out into the yard.

  “Are you confident we can track a lone fugitive through woodland while on horseback?” Boozehound asked.

  “I’ll be honest with you, mate, I hadn’t really thought about it.” Alter admitted as he unwound Tarikell’s reins. “But we need to close the distance at speed, so I’m willing to take that risk if the alternative holds the possibility of never catching up.”

  “Well, the first part shouldn't be too hard!” Boats called out to them as he approached. “Whim isn’t exactly known for his subtlety, we’ll likely have no problem following their trail until the split.”

  “How very optimistic of you.” Boozehound commented as they hauled themselves back into the saddle and encouraged their mounts into motion.

  As they trotted through the yard and towards the orchard where the last remaining workers had been seen, Alter once again found himself glancing towards the upstairs window of the farmer’s house. He wasn’t certain, but he certainly felt as if he was once again being watched through the lace curtains. Awkwardly, he raised an arm and waved, before petting the air in a strange gesture that he hoped would be interpreted as a signal to stay indoors. There was no reaction, although he did get a couple of strange looks from his teammates alongside him.

  Just as Boats predicted, the charging footsteps of Team Three were clearly visible, even from their elevated position. The fact that the trees of the orchard were planted in straight, clean lines made following them a breeze. There was even a gap in the rear fence just big enough for the horses to squeeze through single-file. Alter’s triumphant satisfaction was short-lived as once again he found himself the unwilling recipient of woodland greenery applied directly to the face. However, between the swatting away of fronds and branches they were still able to spot the footprints of multiple people moving deeper into the forest. As they rode further in, the task became much easier as the trees grew further apart and the denser canopy limited the amount of face-level foliage. In the middle distance, someone had carved a crude X into the bark of an unfortunate tree. Stopping in front of it, an examination of the forest floor showed that this was indeed the place where the workers had split up.

  “Do you want us to dismount here?” Boozehound asked but Alter shook his head.

  “No need, the prints are clear enough. Come on, we’ve lost enough time as it is.” He answered determinedly as he ushered Tarikell forward.

  The uphill section Whim had been so keen to ignore didn’t last long, and soon enough the trio came upon an unusual sight. Sprouting from the ground amidst the sea of trunks were ancient walls of white marble. A great stone structure, long fallen to ruin and partially reclaimed by nature stood before them. The tracks headed straight for them, the man never seeming to break stride. A strange shiver passed through Alter’s body, an event that seemed to be shared by the others. He was overcome with the sensation that something was horrifically wrong here, and that, once again, he was being watched.