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They set off at dawn, pushing their horses at an easy mile-consuming trot. That evening Dar called for a halt and dismounted. “We’ll lead the horses from here. Watch your step. What looks like solid ground often isn't in this area.”
They slowly began to follow the tiny Alena, being very careful to follow in his exact footsteps. It wasn't long before the large mud pits came into view. Geysers spewed towers of mud high into the air, showering the companions in hot muck as they passed, covering them from head to toe.
As they pushed on through the sludge, the sun set and darkness fell. It grew very dark, and the stars above were obscured by a thick bank of clouds. Dar finally called for them to stop after one of the pack horses slipped into some quicksand. It somehow managed to scramble back to solid ground, where it stood trembling, its eyes wild with fear.
“We’re going to have to make camp until morning.” Dar announced with a worried expression. “It’s far too dangerous to keep blundering along in the dark with the horses.”
They quickly located a large muddy area that seemed to be solid enough, and Damion stepped forward, drawing in his magic and focusing it on the ground of the clearing. Steam suddenly began to rise from the ground as the moisture instantly began to evaporate. Soon, all the mud was completely dry.
Sly, Garth, and Gretta immediately began to set up camp, while Dar began to search for useable firewood.
Damion started to go aid in unloading the packs, but found himself, once again, unable to move his legs, his feet embedded deep in the suddenly solid mud. “Damn!” He swore in exasperation. “Not again!”
Snowfeather, who was perched atop Storm's broad back to keep from getting muddy, suddenly burst out in a fit squawking laughter. “It looks as though you're going to be there for quite a while!"
“Shut your beak.” He grumbled, blushing in embarrassment. “You’d look awful strange without feathers!”
Garth wandered over, attracted by Snowfeather's squawking. Discovering Damion's predicament, he lapsed into his own fit of mocking laughter. “Again, Damion?” He snickered, the visible part of his face red with mirth. “I thought you would have already learned your lesson!”
Damion fixed the laughing dwarf with a dangerous look. “Unless you wish me to make all your hair fall out, I suggest you go help finish setting up camp.” He growled threateningly.
The chuckling dwarf immediately fell silent and covered his mud-caked beard protectively.
Damion gave the dwarf another irritated glance, then focused his magic once more and freed his feet from the dried mud. He stalked off to help search for firewood, Snowfeather's squawking laughter still trailing behind him.
After they set up camp, Damion sent Snowfeather off into the darkness to hunt for some dinner. The huge owl soon returned clutching two plump pheasants in its razor-like talons. Dar quickly set about making their dinner, building a small fire out of the meager supply of wood that they had been able to gather.
Once they had finished eating, they set up their bedrolls and stretched out to rest, trusting their safety to the snow owl's keen senses.
A few hours had passed when Damion was awakened by Snowfeather's insistent hoots. “There are nearly a dozen goblins moving this way!” He heard his familiar's silent voice. “I don't think that they know we are here, yet!”
Damion instantly rolled to his feet, and drew the Dragon Sword from its sheath. He kicked Sly hard in his side, and then quickly began to pile dirt over the remains of their tiny fire. “We’ve got company!”
Sly woke the others, and then drew his sword, his sharp eyes carefully scanning the shadows.
“They’re coming!” Snowfeather warned with a loud squawk.
Damion warned the others, and then melted into the shadows to wait in ambush.
The goblins soon appeared from the darkness, marching together up the trail, their concentrations focused on their path, obviously leery of the quicksand. They never had a chance to react as the companions fell upon them from the darkness. Damion and the others cut them down easily, encountering virtually no resistance. As quick as it started, it was over. All the goblins lay dead at their feet with surprised looks on their piggish faces.
“That was fun!” Damion commented, wiping the foul-smelling blood from his sword. “I really needed to work off some aggression.” He smiled at Sly. “Too bad there weren’t a few more.”
“I would have preferred none at all.” The scruffy little man grunted plaintively.
Dar sniffed at the air, then made a face. “Let’s get rid of these bodies.” He gestured at the dead goblins. “If we don't, the smell will keep us awake all night.”
They dragged corpses to the closest mud pit and tossed them in, then returned to their bedrolls for some badly needed sleep.
It was early the next morning when they set off on their path, carefully leading the horses once more in effort to avoid falling victim to the quicksand. They were forced several times to detour around some of the larger mud pits that blocked their way, and geysers were continually showering them with steaming hot mud, but they pressed on relentlessly, and the edge of the forest finally came into view late that evening.
“That, my friends,” Dar announced, his voice throbbing with emotion. “is the Endless Forest. My home.” The boy’s eyes were swimming with tears.
“How long has been since you were last here?” Sly asked in a subdued voice.
Dar swallowed hard. “Over four hundred years.” He answered, his voice scarcely above a whisper.
“Well, this is promising to be one hell of a homecoming.” Damion laid a reassuring hand on the boy's shoulder. “Why don’t we go get the party started?”
Omensent: Birth of a Dragon Lord Page 39