by Stefon Mears
Vastig felt certain that two of the humans had romantic intentions towards each other. They must have been the ones escorted. Nobles perhaps, or rich enough to hire guards and live the way they wished, rather than whatever tradition would have demanded of them.
The other three must have been warriors then. Two of them were, Vastig was certain, and one was quite experienced to have cleared away the campsite as well as they had.
Most human efforts were so paltry that Vastig could have determined not only what the humans ate last night — roast chicken with vegetables in this case — but also what they had eaten for the three nights before. Perhaps even where they had camped the night before, as well.
But Vastig could not deduce as much as he expected, and this pleased him. There might be a challenge in this hunt after all.
Once they began riding, the humans did not cover their tracks. They made no effort to disguise that they were riding…
Northeast?
Truly?
They escaped the necromancer’s trap, and now they rode in his direction?
Or could that be coincidence?
Vastig banished all conclusions from his mind. Returned to the clearing and hunted for the signs of the direction the humans had ridden to arrive in the clearing.
That took some time. They had covered those tracks, for some reason, though they had not covered their path out. Why?
Someone thought they might be followed. But that someone was not given time to prevent it.
Or that someone wanted to be followed. More interesting still.
In any event, Vastig determined before too long that the humans had been riding north by northwest when they came to the woods. That meant that northeast was definitely a departure. There could be no other conclusion then.
They had encountered the necromancer’s trap, eluded it, and sought payback.
Oh, this hunt might prove fun.
Alas, though, if they were all mounted, then Vastig could not risk the time lag of following on foot. He would have no choice. He would have to ride.
From his belt, Vastig pulled a section of antler no longer than his smallfinger. It was taken from Lasitasanathila, the great elk who had once been his prized mount.
Vastig left the clearing and those damnable, muttering woods by the quickest route, still on foot.
Then, by the light of the late afternoon sun, he tossed down the carved-off bit of elk antler, and said the words he hated saying.
“Shul na keena a sakath, Lasitasanathila.”
The section of antler began to shiver. Hopped around, there in the dirt, among trampled down goldenrod.
Then the antler grew longer. Formed once again the section of rack it had been carved away from. Still, it hopped about.
Then from the section of rack, a skull.
The rest of the rack filled in, and then the spine began to grow. Then the ribs, the legs, and the rest of the skeleton, until it stood before him, regarding Vastig with those vacant eye sockets. Once more Vastig felt judgment from those sockets, blame for the state that had befallen one of the great elks of the Wailing Woods.
Once Vastig’s truest friend. Now, merely a collection of bones animated to carry him about, when speed was needed.
One of the necromancer’s little jokes. A perpetual reminder that Vastig himself was just a set of bones and flesh, waiting for his master’s spells on the day he ceased being useful.
Vastig mounted the skeletal elk, and rode off to ensure that that day would not be this day.
It was Amra who chose their campsite for the night.
Oh, she let Cavan or Qalas do it sometimes, but whenever she felt that they might be under threat, she inevitably insisted on choosing where they camped.
And Cavan had to admit, she knew better than he did.
Amra had managed to find the crest of a hill with a good distance of visibility around it, north of the path of the rainfall. Most of what surrounded the hill were fields of goldenrod, but a few lower hills and occasional clumps of underbrush of one sort or another, that Ehren suggested indicated places an underground stream neared the surface.
Their encampment even had a trio of rocks big enough to hide the tracking torch, which would continue to burn with its heatless violet flame pointing the way to the necromancer.
The campsite had good visibility, by the dying light of day. Of course, its elevation meant that Ehren was practically on a stage when he offered up his sunset prayers.
Qalas, as usual, watched Ehren’s prayers with his head bowed. Reesa surprised Cavan by joining Ehren in the recitation. Which meant either she actually spoke some ancient Penthix, or had at least learned the words phonetically.
Cavan hadn’t known that about her.
“Careful,” Amra said. She stood next to him, as the two of them finished rubbing down the horses and preparing them for the evening.
The horses would be bedded down in the center of camp tonight. A night without a fire, because, as Amra had said, there was no reason to invite trouble they weren’t already expecting.
This time she’d even foregone the words she usually finished that saying with: apart, of course, from the joy of it.
But Cavan was more interested in the point Amra was raising right now.
“Careful about what?” he asked, finishing his brushing of Dzint’s coat, and moving on to Highsun, while Amra continued with Caramel.
“This is no time to fall in love, you idiot.”
She at least had the decency to keep her voice low. As though they could have been heard over the evening prayers to Zatafa.
“I’m not,” Cavan said, though the roiling in his stomach might have been more than hunger from the ride.
“Make sure you keep it that way.” She wasn’t even looking at him now, her full attention seemingly on her task. “What happens to a warrior whose focus splits during a battle?”
“The same thing that would happen to a wizard, I expect.”
Amra turned and gave Cavan a flat look. “Exactly.”
“There’s no point in worrying about it anyway,” Cavan said. “I don’t even—”
“There’s no point because it’s foolish. Once we survive this, then you can figure out if you want to go back to Juno and set up your household with her. Or if she wants to ride the world with us, assuming she’s good enough. Or whatever other options there might be.”
Amra turned then. “But, Cavan, remember something.” She waited until Cavan faced her. “You might not be more to this girl than a pleasant time in the sheets and a way out from under her father’s tyranny.”
Cavan frowned.
Amra smiled. “Hadn’t occurred to you, had it?” She chuckled and shook her head. “You men. You think you’re the only ones who can tumble someone without giving away your heart.”
Cavan snorted. “No one who rides with you could possibly believe that.”
Amra chuckled, unabashed, and let Cavan return to his thoughts as they finished with the horses.
Was Amra right? Could Reesa really be preparing to give Cavan a speech about what she wasn’t looking for?
Cavan, who didn’t know himself what he was looking for?
He tried not to think on this overmuch as they all dined on dried strips of beef, apples, and hardtack from Reesa’s saddlebags. Her idea, rather than letting it go to waste.
Cavan even tried not to pay too much attention to Reesa as they all settled toward their bedrolls for the evening.
But his thoughts kept circling the subject all the same. Right up until the moment he stood to cast the warding he cast every night while they traveled. Especially when they were in an area that might prove dangerous.
“Stop,” Ehren said, the moment Cavan stood.
Cavan frowned at his smiling friend, his teeth still visible in the light of the rising gibbous moon. But the certainty in those clear blue eyes could not be denied.
“What?” Cavan said. “I was just going to—”
“Lie down
until it’s your turn to stand watch,” Ehren said, his voice as firm as though he were giving Cavan a medical treatment.
“But—”
“But nothing,” Ehren said, his smiling never budging an inch. “You’re not recovered from that little experiment of yours this morning, are you?”
“I think I am,” Cavan said, then frowned, trying to suss out the truth of his statement without attempting the kind of stimulus that would answer the question once and for all.
“You forget,” Ehren said. “I’ve been present every time you’ve dealt with spell fire in the last several years. Do you think for one instant that I haven’t studied the effects on you?”
Cavan knew better than to answer that. But Ehren wasn’t done talking anyway.
“You, my friend, will not be recovered before the dawn. Possibly not until highsun tomorrow, though I don’t think you’ll need that long. I think the night’s sleep will do it.”
“Then—”
“Assuming,” Ehren said, still smiling, “I don’t let you do something stupid like cast another spell before then, and risk hurting yourself further.”
“But—”
“I’ll grant you,” Ehren continued, “your tracking torch was absolutely necessary. Time is of the essence for us. But wards tonight?”
Ehren shook his head.
“May I speak?”
“Will you say something worth hearing?” Amra asked, and Cavan didn’t have to look at her to know she was fluttering her eyelashes.
“The warding I cast each night is a simple spell. One I know better than nearly any other, and can cast with great efficiency. There is no need for this concern.”
“There is no need for you to cast it and do yourself even that little bit of harm.” Ehren shook his head. “I say it’s watches tonight. Any more spells from you, Cavan, will wait for the dawn.”
“I concur,” Amra said.
“Me too,” Qalas said. “Truth is, I kind of miss keeping watch. It’s peaceful.”
“Unless it isn’t,” Amra added, a grin all through her voice.
“I don’t know what my opinion counts for in this,” Reesa said, a little steel in her own voice, despite her words, “but I agree. No suffering you don’t have to endure.”
She directed her next words to Amra.
“And I’ll keep watch for a shift as well.”
“Have you ever done it before?” Amra asked.
“No, but—”
“Then you can’t stand watch alone yet. You’ll watch with me tonight, and I’ll teach you how to do it right.” Amra clapped her hands once and pitched her next words in her command voice. “That’s decided. The rest of you sack out. I’ll wake Qalas for second watch.”
At least Cavan’s irritation gave him something else to think about as he fell asleep.
Some sudden loud cry yanked Cavan from his sleep.
He lay in his bedroll, his head pounding and his eyes heavy. He must have only just gotten into the deepest part of sleep before…
…before what? Why was he…
“Ware! Archers!” Amra called again, and the world snapped into focus.
Cavan rolled to his knees. Slipped into his licha hauberk and leggings. Grabbed his sword belt and buckled it on before standing. His feet were still bare, but he’d fought that way before.
Amra stood near the edge of their encampment. Sword naked in her hand.
Reesa crouched behind her, longbow ready and an arrow knocked.
“I see no movement,” Reesa said. “But the moonlight doesn’t—”
“Ehren!” Amra called, and just like that Ehren was there, offering up the prayer that would turn the darkest tunnel into bright daylight.
The prayer shed no light, and cast no shadows. It only granted the vision of Zatafa’s brilliance to the eyes of those whom Her priest blessed this way.
And just that fast, Cavan could see far into the distance, in any direction he chose, as though it were a cloudless midday.
Reesa gasped, then started muttering what sounded like prayers in praise of Zatafa.
Qalas already studied the lands in the opposite direction from Amra’s facing, so Cavan alternated between their flanks. Trying to cover both at once.
But Cavan saw nothing larger than a fox moving out there.
“Gone,” Amra said quickly. “But the arrow came from this way. I’ll pursue.”
“Wait,” Qalas said.
To Cavan’s surprise, she did.
“You know as well as I do it could be a trap,” Qalas said, maintaining his watch. “You indicate it came from the nearest hill. How would you take you out?”
“I’d have archers hidden and ready for pursuit to come,” Amra grumbled, “with shots aimed from multiple directions at once, figuring even I couldn’t dodge or parry all of them.”
“Exactly,” Qalas said.
“Just as well, I suppose,” Amra said, frowning as she crouched and picked up a shattered arrow. “This is forest elf work. Tells us pretty much everything we need to know, wouldn’t you say?”
“How?” Reesa said. “How does that tell us everything we need to know? How did you cut that arrow out of midair?”
“As to the second,” Amra said, her voice more full of patience than Cavan expected, “I didn’t. I blocked it with the flat of my blade. As to the first, Simple.” Amra shrugged. “In fact, I’ll let Cavan explain it. I’m not positive this assault is over. If I were planning it, it wouldn’t be.”
“Chances are strong,” Cavan said, while Amra began checking other sight lines, “that whoever shot that arrow is the same archer who shot at the knights and raiders, back in that clearing. Confirms that he or she is working for the necromancer, and now likely tasked with trying to stop us before we reach the necromancer. Or, to be more precise, kill us and bring certain parts of us back to his or her master.”
“If I may,” Qalas said, and waited for Cavan’s nod before he continued, to Reesa. “You might be thinking that it’s possible that this is a human archer, working with forest elf arrows, or that the attack is unrelated. First, however, no human is likely to have tried that shot. Not without support.”
“Why?” Reesa asked.
“You’re an archer, would you have tried it? All on your own?”
Reesa frowned and eyed the distance. Turned and looked over the group assembled around her on the hilltop. Shook her head. “It’s suicide. Even if I hit my target, I couldn’t have gotten you all before you caught me. Not working with only moonlight, and all of you coming, and—”
“Just so. And while I can’t deny we have other enemies — especially Cavan, who seems to collect them the way a bard collects rumors — it’s safe to say any of our established enemies would do more than fire a single arrow at us. And what else could it be? Bandits? Shooting only a single arrow, and not rushing us?”
Qalas waited until Reesa shook her head, then said, “This shot was as much a test as anything else. Cavan? You want to continue? You know the forest elves better than I do.”
“Forest elves see as well at night as we do by day, so the darkness doesn’t give them pause. Also, it’s a safer shot for a forest elf, because you’ll never track a forest elf on foot in terrain like this. Can’t happen. They’re not capable of leaving a trail in damn near any environment where you’re likely to meet one. Just about the only places a forest elf will leave a footprint are in snow or sand.”
“Ice elves, and dune elves,” Reesa said, thoughtfully.
“Exactly,” Cavan said, with a nod. “Most of the land around here suits forest elves far more than any of the other varieties. A battalion of forest elves could march by us and leave no sign of their passage.”
“So a human would fight the darkness and risk being caught if he missed, but for a forest elf it was a safe shot. No risk.”
“More than that,” Qalas said. “It was a way to test us. Gauge our response. If the shot struck and caused chaos in our camp, the archer likely gets at least o
ne or two more good shots before it became time to leave.”
“We could have all died?” Reesa looked a little sick.
“Missed that one,” Amra said, eyes still scanning. “We’re not just anyone.”
“I’m starting to really understand that,” Reesa muttered, but whatever she was going to say next was lost to Amra’s next words.
“Definitely gone,” Amra said. “Even forest elves aren’t that good at hiding away from their trees. I say we check it out.”
“Will anyone get angry at me if I cast a spell?” Cavan asked.
“Right now? Yes,” Ehren said. “If we run into trouble and it becomes necessary, I’ll overlook it. This time.”
“Gee,” Cavan started, but Qalas interrupted.
“One of us needs to stay here. Watch the camp. Just in case the backup goal is to take out our horses.”
“More than one,” Ehren said. “You and I will stay. Reesa? You should as well.”
“I want one archer with me, just in case,” Amra said. “I’m not giving up my sword for a bow right now.”
Cavan opened his mouth to speak.
“Please,” Amra said. “Don’t embarrass yourself. You throw daggers pretty well, but you’re useless with arrows and you aren’t casting anything unless you have no choice. Reesa, you’re with us too.”
Reesa nodded, determination all through her features again.
Amra took the lead. Then Reesa. Cavan followed last. He and Amra had their swords in hand. Reesa kept an arrow ready, but her bowstring not drawn. Cavan thought he heard her muttering little encouragements to herself, under her breath.
Amra led the way down their hill and up the next, directly to a short, wide flat rock on that hill. Perfect for hiding behind, if an archer could crouch low enough.
“Damn it,” Amra said, scuffing the bottom of her boot as she kicked across the rock. “How did I not spot this? I might as well have said, ‘Here archer, have a perfect hidey hole.’”
“Hardly perfect,” Reesa said. “You spotted him right away.”
“No,” Amra said, one finger raised to make her point. “I spotted him after he shot. That’s as useless as never spotting him at all.”