"Very ingenious," Shay complimented.
In moments they were working their way toward the daylight that shone from above. The climbing was tricky, becoming more so as they neared the mouth of the tunnel where the surface had been buffed smooth, so they edged near a wall for support. As the floor leveled, they could see the glimmer of blue sky ahead. Finally, the winter sun peeked over the lip of the tunnel.
Avari squinted into the sunlight. Amazing, she marveled. It's only been a few hours. It seemed like forever!
"Well, that was perty easy now, wasn't it?" DoHeney exclaimed. The others might have agreed, were it not for the loud crack and the thunderous squeal of parting ice overhead.
Ghendal's tortured eyes caught a flicker of movement within the tunnel, then a splash of color, but both were beyond the secret door he had been watching.
They must be coming up the worm's tunnel! he thought. Well, no matter. He could barely make out the four figures, so blurred was his vision from the glare. They were at the door; just a few more steps... He whipped off his cloak and waved it.
The blows of the hammers sounded—once, twice—then the entire cliff face crashed down into the mouth of the tunnel. The figures disappeared in an avalanche of ice and a cloud of tiny crystals.
"Success!" Ghendal's yell echoed above the rumbles as he dashed from hiding. His minions began their climb down to join him, but Ghendal did not even notice their progress. He had done it. The thieves were dead, the artifacts his. He reached the mound of splintered ice and began his climb to the summit, visions of his own coming omnipotence dancing in his mind.
The entrance to the tunnel was now only half its former height, but more than tall enough to admit the Dukarr with his head held high. Ghendal scrambled to the top of the pile, then looked up to where his two ice trolls clambered down the glacier.
"Hurry up! You have a lot of digging to do to uncover my prize!" Ghendal raised his arms in triumph and threw his head back in ecstatic laughter. Oh, the power beneath him; he could almost feel it!
He stumbled, his laughter catching in his throat. Ghendal looked down at the head of an arrow protruding from his chest. His fingers encircled the gory shaft, the fluttering beats of his own pierced heart throbbing in his grasp.
This is not right! he thought, as his knees folded.
The answer came as Ghendal pitched forward to his hands and knees. The Dukarr stared blankly at the ice wall in front of him, at his own reflection and those of the four thieves. He had been betrayed by his own cunning, by the ice that he had insisted be buffed to a mirror polish. The reflections of his enemies had appeared to stand under the cliff face while they were still safely within the tunnel. This realization struck him in a flash, just before a crossbow bolt ended all his concerns.
Avari's cry of fury rang out as she drew Gaulengil and leapt up the shards of ice. She kicked the Dukarr over, her sword raised for a death stroke that was wholly unnecessary. Then she noticed the black iron circlet on his brow. In an act of sheer revulsion, she brought Gaulengil down in a single, precise cut. The iron writhed and screeched, then melted away into a puddle of black ooze. Avari stared as the dead Dukarr's pale features faded to a dusky hue, and the irises of his vacant eyes shifted from white to deep hazel. A throaty growl drew her attention.
Two trolls jumped down from the cliff face above and stopped short. They looked up at her, then to their fallen commander, their morale obviously shaken.
"Come on, then!" she shouted, spinning Gaulengil in the light, which suddenly seemed much brighter. She leapt down with a cry and charged, trusting her friends to follow.
The trolls backed away, then turned and ran, scrambling over the ice cliff too fast for the warrioress to follow. Avari skidded to a halt and puffed to catch her breath, puzzled at their flight.
She looked back to her companions and shrugged, but her vision seemed rather washed out, as if everything were in a haze. Or as if she... Avari looked down. She glowed like a beacon.
"Ahhh!" she yelled. "That damned Dukarr cursed me!"
She tried wiping off the glow, to no avail. Avari looked up to Shay, then stopped; no one else seemed worried. Her eyebrows drew together with a flash of memory; a face-off between an angry tribesman and a glowing priest.
"Shaaaay," she said. "What did you do?"
"Just a blessing from Tem, Avari," he assured her, pausing to watch as DoHeney rifled through the Dukarr's pockets. "There is no danger, and the trolls were certainly impressed."
"I guess so," she admitted as she admired her glowing reflection in the polished ice, "but you can remove it now."
"Uh... well... that might take some time," the priest said, descending the ice. "It is the same spell I cast on your dagger, you see. It will last until someone dispels the magic."
"So dispel it!" Shay's hesitation gave Avari concern. She could not go through life glowing like a beacon.
"Like I said," he smiled weakly, "that may take some time. Channeling Tem's might is exhausting, and I am already fatigued. I'll do it tonight, once we're clear of the area."
Avari opened her mouth to protest, then conceded to his logic; getting away from here was the first priority. Removing the effect would just have to wait. But that did not mean she could not get even with Shay.
"Fine." Avari grinned as she reached to unfasten Shay's heavy cloak. She draped it over her glowing shoulders to douse the light. "But I hope you've got another one of those cold resistance spells for yourself until I quit glowing." She turned away with a snicker, noting a shiver in Shay's slim frame.
CHAPTER 21
There are occasions, Avari thought, when those pointy elf ears would be handy.
Her notion was based on her inability to hear more than bits of Shay and Lynthalsea's conversation. Avari sliced salt beef into the bubbling pot of stew and tried to listen.
The sun had set more than an hour earlier, leaving them exhausted, hungry and chilled, but also well east of the glacier. The gems pointed just south of east, but north of Zellohar, which was encouraging. Avari parted her cloak for a little more light.
"Too bad that glow o' yours don't put out heat," DoHeney said as he added fuel to their fire and rubbed his hands in the warmth. "Ye'd be the center o' attention."
"Thanks, but I'd just as soon be quenched."
DoHeney, she noticed, was too busy making 'Gran-mammy's Own Prize-Winnin' Biscuits' to pay attention. Avari finally swung the pot back over the fire and leaned back in a strategic direction to listen.
"You mean you knew we were related even before you saw my books?" Shay asked.
"I didn't know; but your scent was familiar. When I saw your spell books, the coincidence was too much to ignore, but I still wasn't sure. It took some time, but little things you did or said reminded me of mother. Finally, I just accepted that it was true, but I didn't know how to broach the subject."
"But my mo— our mother never mentioned you," Shay said with a confused wag of his head. "In fact, she never mentioned a previous marriage. She said the books were family heirlooms."
"True enough, as far as it goes; they were my father’s. When he was killed she packed them away. Too many painful memories. Easier to explain that way than to dredge up the subject of a dead husband and a werewolf daughter."
"Well, she's in for quite a surprise when we both turn up on her doorstep! I have a few questions for her."
Lynthalsea smiled, but concern etched her forehead. "Do you think that's a good idea? What if she doesn't... I mean..."
"Mother will be delighted to see you," he promised, taking her hands in his, "and let me tell you why. When she gave me these books and I managed to puzzle out one spell, my father warned me about practicing magic within church walls. I asked mother what I should do." He squeezed his sister's hands and held her gaze. "She said, 'Follow your heart'."
Lynthalsea smiled, but Shay was not finished.
"When I was excommunicated..."
Avari stifled a gasp.
"...my father was forc
ed to reject me. Once again, I sought mother's wisdom. Her advice was the same: 'Seek with your heart. Nothing else will make you happy.' So I left to find a temple that would allow me to study and worship in my own way." Shay fell silent, but his face relaxed, eased with his confession.
"You must seek what you think best for you, Lynthalsea!" He gave her hands a heartening squeeze. "If you want to go to mother, I will be there with you. If not, I will not make you go."
"Thank you, Shay, I—"
"Supper's ready!" DoHeney barked, oblivious to the tender moment he had interrupted. Avari jabbed him in the ribs.
"Aie! What in thunder's that fer, lass?"
"DoHeney!" she whispered. "You've got the tact of an ogre! Those two have a lot of catching up to do. Dinner can wait!"
"It is all right, Avari," Shay said as he and Lynthalsea approached the fire. "We have a lifetime to talk."
"If you two want to be alone, we can eat over by the horses," she offered, nodding to Hufferrrerrr as he joined them and jabbing another elbow in DoHeney's ribs.
"Uh... Aye, lad. Ye two findin' out that yer related and all, ye probably got lots ta talk about. It reminds me o' me Great Aunt BoHinkey. Lost in a snowstorm as a babe and raised by grimliks, ye know. Wasn't found 'till she was a hundred and two, and it took another twenty years jist ta scrub off the smell. But, since all ye got ta deal with is a few doggie diseases, it shouldn't take near that— Ouch!" DoHeney scowled at Avari; her elbow was beginning to leave a permanent indentation in his side.
"You don't have to leave us alone," Lynthalsea assured them. "We have no secrets from you, our closest friends."
"Good!" DoHeney piped, handing out bowls of stew and steaming biscuits. "And me ol' gran-mammy always says good food lends ta good conversation. So what's this about bein' kicked out o' yer church, me pointy-eared friend?"
"DoHeney!" Avari snapped, nearly dropping her bowl. "That's none of our business!"
"Oh, I think it is, lass," the dwarf said. "If yer church really run ye off, then why do ye still got yer healin' powers?"
"To tell the truth," Shay answered, "I have no idea."
"You mean you could lose them at any moment?" Worry furrowed Avari’s brow.
"That is what the elders of Tem's temples would have me believe," Shay said with a smile. "The church labeled me a heretic, but Tem has not deemed it necessary to strip me of his blessings for dabbling in magic, so I will continue to do both."
“You followed your heart,” Lynthalsea said, smiling at him.
"I gotta admit," DoHeney said, "if a god was miffed at ye, ye'd o' probably found out firsthand by now."
"My thoughts exactly!" Shay agreed, jabbing his spoon at the dwarf. "It’s been two years since I left the temple at Kosseldur, and Tem’s blessings have not ebbed in the least."
"Which reminds me," Avari said, parting her cloak to reveal her persistent glow. "You promised to do something about this."
"Oh, I think she should stay the way she is," DoHeney said.
"Mightn't she be a little obvious in her present state?" Shay asked, expecting what the others knew was coming.
"I suppose," the dwarf agreed, "but I always thought she was a bright girl with a glowin' personality, and now she looks it!"
The bad joke relaxed everyone, and they finished dinner with smiles. Who knew how long it would be until they had another chance for laughter?
The sun had finally set, so Dart's dark-attuned vision was keen. Not that it had to be; the signs were easy to read.
"The tracks lead east," Garrote said, his fingers outlining the impression of a hoof. "A day ahead, I would guess."
"Then quit guessing and get back on your horse," Dart snarled, shaking off his weariness.
"My horse is nearly dead," Garrote said. "If we do not rest them, we will soon be afoot."
"We have many days ahead of us," Whip agreed. "It would be best if we saved our strength for when we overtake them."
The thin mountain air was taking its toll on the Shadowknives, born and bred to deep caverns, but, as fatigued as they were, their mounts were worse. Fodder and water had grown scarce, and they were showing signs of exhaustion.
Dart's eyes narrowed at his two underlings, his hand itching for a weapon as he considered whether their complaints were valid; it rankled him to be argued with.
They both stood less than three steps away, and the angle was perfect if he wished to use the two poisoned darts in his wrist sheath. If they were dead, he would have two spare mounts and three times the food. Also, if he returned alone, Lord Darkmist would certainly reward him more lavishly. That is, if he returned. Their quarry had proven unexpectedly resourceful.
The darts stayed secure on his wrist as he dismounted, nodding in acquiescence to his kinsmen.
"We will rest here, but only until the mounts recover. We will see to that as quickly as possible. Whip, go collect ice from the glacier to be melted for drinking water. Garrote, gather grass for them to eat. I will prepare a meal. We will continue before morning, so hurry, and we may even get some sleep."
As his underlings scattered to do his bidding, Dart smiled. He still had the upper hand, and they knew it.
"Get that blasted wagon movin', or I'll have your lazy mules for my supper!" the master sergeant bellowed across the river.
The mules finally moved, freeing the wagon's wheel from between two of the flat paving stones. The dwarves of the White Hills had made this crossing easy, widening and shallowing the river with quarried stones. All a driver needed to do was avoid the cracks, but even that seemed too difficult a task for this crew.
"Now keep that creakin' contraption on the road, or I'll personally see that the next time it gets stuck, it's up yer—"
"Easy, Kaplan," Yenjil Thallon said, calming his master sergeant. "It's only the first day, and you're already bursting blood vessels. We've a long ride ahead."
"Aye, sir, but you'd've thought these jackasses had never driven jackasses before! The other fords're far worse. We'll lose half our wagons if they don't get their heads out of their arses."
"Maybe you should have a nice quiet chat with each of them, then," the captain suggested. Kaplan was the only man he knew who was more frightening quiet than in a rage.
"Aye, sir."
Yenjil took another bite of his dinner, a hearty sandwich that the cook was handing out as trail rations. The sun was already behind the hills to the west, but he was not about to call a halt.
"Do you think we will make the second ford by midnight, Kaplan?" he asked.
"Aye, sir. And the third ford by mornin', if you're in a real rush. This is the best part of the whole road, on account of the dwarves. If we're gonna march at night, this is the best for it."
"No, I think we'll camp just before the second ford," Yenjil said around another bite. He nudged Gargantua into a walk. "We'll cross before first light, then be across the next two before sunset. Spread the word: we camp at the second ford. The sooner we get there, the more sleep we get."
He spurred Gargantua on, leaving Kaplan to oversee the crossing. They had made miraculous time their first day, and he was pleased. He had the best troops in the garrison, an experienced sergeant and healthy teams hauling the provisions.
"Feldspar, old friend!" he called, reining in his mount next to the wizard's grey mare. "How does the trail agree with you?"
"Old? Yer damn right, old!" the crotchety wizard snapped from under a wide-brimmed hat. "Too old for this crap, I tell you. Riding since before dawn without even a nap. How much farther are we going today? The sun's already set, you know."
"We’ll camp when we reach the second ford," Thallon said with a grin. He had accompanied the mage in the field before and knew the elderly wizard's bark was worse than his bite. He was the type who would gripe about the soup, then ask for seconds. "And we will cross before first light in the morning."
"The second ford?" The wizard looked at him like he had just said his hat was on fire. "Why, that's five leagues do
wn the road; hours away, even at our best speed!"
"So, if any of us are going to get a reasonable amount of sleep tonight, we had best hurry, eh?" Thallon enjoyed the wizard's look of disgust. "But I do have a problem."
"Only one? Well, that makes you a lucky man!"
"I don't like the idea of crossing in the dark," he said, ignoring Feldspar's sarcasm. "But if we wait until dawn, we won't reach the last ford until after dark, and by then we’ll be tired and more apt to have a mishap. So what I really need is for you to magic up a bridge for me tomorrow morning."
"Oh, is that all? Just poof, there's a bridge, eh? What do you think I am, an arch-mage? You think it's no effort at all, just wiggle my fingers, mumble some nonsense and poof, a bridge!"
"Yes, that's right," the captain said.
"Shouldn't be a problem," Feldspar admitted.
"I didn't think so." Yenjil smiled and received a glare. "I'll see that a hot meal and a warm bed are waiting for you when we reach the ford." He spurred his mount forward, waving farewell.
CHAPTER 22
How long?" Dart asked as Garrote examined the ashes of the companions’ camp fire.
"A full day." He felt the ashes once more, reading the traces of heat like a book. "They left this fire yesterday morning."
"Which means they are making their next camp now." Dart gauged the labored breathing of the mounts. The horses were near exhaustion again, but if they stopped to rest, they would not close the gap to their prey.
I have never encountered so many problems just trying to kill someone! he thought, saying, "We will continue on until midnight. The thieves must also be running low on fodder for their horses. If we push hard, we can close the gap."
"If we cut south, the grasses will return," Whip suggested. "We could increase our pace and pick up the trail farther east."
"But will the faster pace make up for the detour?" Dart asked. It was not a bad idea, but it wasn't his idea. "And we would risk losing the trail. We will stay on this path."
If things did not get better soon, they would have to kill one of the horses for food, which would slow them further, unless, of course, one of the riders was also killed. Dart examined his companions. Which one? he thought, gauging the usefulness of each. He decided to defer that decision until it became necessary, and stabbed his spurs into his horse's flanks.
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