by Sandra Kopp
“What happened last night?” Davon whispered. “Why so surly this morning you abused your beloved steed? Do you begrudge Hans his happiness?”
“No!” Arris held up a hand, his face troubled. “Nedra came to me last night. I didn’t realize at first what awakened me, but as I slipped outside she appeared out of nowhere. She’d told me earlier she had gifts of foresight, but what she told me then could have been revealed to her by her father, for she spoke to me only after she had spoken to him, and what she told me he already knew. She said even before she reached us she knew seven of her people had just died, and that Faleo’s life ended particularly tragically. Also, others will come to our aid, but Nedra would not reveal who, save that we regard them as myth and legend.”
“Myth and legend?” Davon echoed. “Who could that be?”
“Perhaps the Little People—the gnomes of San-Leyon,” Arris ventured. “I don’t know.”
“So Nedra considers you a compatriot.”
“I think she seeks information.” Arris looked down. “She tried to seduce me.”
“And you refused.”
“Of course! I have no interest in her!”
“You love Merewyn.”
Arris looked away. “Merewyn desired Charles Bordner. She cared nothing for me.”
“Merewyn, a hunted, frightened child, would have looked to Charles, our obvious leader—and someone who knew her father—to protect her.”
“I never revealed my feelings, and now Fate has parted us.”
“Perhaps. . .perhaps not. Consider what befell us these past two years. Could any of us have foreseen it? No! Neither can we foresee the future. I tell you, Arris, if Fate decrees that Merewyn share your life, circumstances will reunite you. Charles did only what he believed to be right. He couldn’t know how you felt.”
Davon laid a comforting hand on Arris’ shoulder. “Do not grieve, Arris. I perceive a binding together of all our fates—yours, mine, Charles’, Hans’, Merewyn’s—even Nedra’s. This conflict has bound us to a purpose. Yes, we’ll encounter darkness and doubt, but after those pass—and they will—the sun will shine all the brighter, and our freedom will taste sweet indeed!”
“True,” Arris acknowledged. “You’re most wise, little brother.”
“I gained all my wisdom from you, big brother.”
“Hmpf!” Arris’ shoulders shook. “Lately I doubt my judgment. I came away to remind myself of who and what I am.”
“You mean, concerning Nedra.”
Arris nodded.
Davon grinned. “Mix for her the potion you said you would.”
The brothers laughed. Arris jerked his head in the direction of the camp. “Well said! Now let’s get back.”
Charles eyed them warily as they rode up.
“All’s well,” Davon smiled as he alit.
“Is it? Your brother looked like a thundercloud when he left.”
“Our maiden friend visited me last night.” Arris rode up and dismounted. “Where’s Hans?”
Charles bobbed his head in the direction of the woodsmen’s camp, where the burly redhead regaled the maidens with exaggerated tales of past exploits. Nedra listened politely but fastened her probing eyes upon Arris.
Charles frowned. “That hardly explains your ill humor this morning.”
“She claims herself clairvoyant, but I sense she seeks information to pass as her own.” Arris hesitated. “I have also considered her possible employ as a witch.”
“Don’t judge her too harshly,” Davon interjected. “She may indeed be clairvoyant. But let Arris and I separate ourselves from her. Charles can then test the merit of her words.”
“Aye.” Charles stepped onto the sunwashed bank and waved to Hans. “Enough! Let’s go.”
Hans removed his hat and bowed to his lovely audience. “Alas, my ladies, I must leave. Yet never fear. We shall soon meet again!”
“Godspeed, Hans.” Elvia waved and blew him a kiss.
“Godspeed! Godspeed,” the others called.
Hans glowed as he crossed the gravelly riverbank to join his companions. “Such sweet company! Had I deerskin and a fur hat, I would travel as one of them.” A faraway look crossed his face. “That Nedra is a strange one. I swear, she looks right through you without seeing you. And her speech rivals even Arris’ for mystery.”
“So—is she gifted, pretending, or bewitched?” Charles gathered the reins of his two horses. “Time will tell. In the meantime. . .”
They quickly mounted. Arronmyl strode toward them. “Tomorrow at the rock, the hunt begins. May the herds teem bountifully and our arrows aim true.”
Charles put a hand to his hat in salute. “May fortune smile upon us all today.”
They rode away, unaware that a hooded figure crouched behind a nearby rock. It slowly rose, glaring after them through blood-red eyes. “Maranook!” it hissed and stole into the trees.
JOURNEY TO KAPRAS ROCK
The Lost River spanned less than half the width of the Ashgard, was much shallower, and at this point not nearly as swift. Indeed, its litter-strewn shorelines posed the greatest danger. Once through the labyrinth of cobblestones and driftwood, a horse could easily wade across. The four companions rode a short distance from the camp to where the rocks flattened and became more scattered. Here they entered knee-deep water, and minutes later reached the woods on the other side.
San-Leyon had been forbidding, but Barren-Fel proved sinister at best. Only slivers of sunlight penetrated the densely-packed trees. Spicy fragrances mingled with the odors of rotting wood and duff permeated the dank air. Manes of moss and horsehair lichen cascaded from the branches, while pockets of bracken and oak fern choked every available space. Colorful but deadly fungus gripped many of the ancient trunks, which groaned and strained under lofty crowns swaying in the winds above.
“I hope your senses are extra keen today,” Hans told Arris in a low voice.
“As keen as can be.” Arris immediately caught his meaning. The endless shadow would render invisible any Baugonril lurking along their path. His Arganian senses must detect what mortal eyes could not.
He stopped and cocked his head. “I hear something.”
The others drew up beside him, scarcely breathing as they listened. Somewhere above, a squirrel exchanged insults with a cantankerous jay; otherwise, they heard only wind.
“What?” Davon whispered.
“Voices,” Arris answered. “Children’s voices. But they’ve stopped now.” He clicked his tongue and Barada stepped out.
Gradually they angled north toward the granite behemoth known as Kapras Rock. The forest thinned, revealing an azure sky. Ample sunlight dispelled the dankness and gloom, and by early afternoon the company found themselves entering a lush and rolling meadow encircled by trees and set against a backdrop of billowing white clouds. In its midst, Kapras’ frowning weather-beaten dome roused itself behind an emerald rise, so black and glowering it resembled Baugonril itself.
Hans’ face lit up. “I hear a stream. You know what that means, lads: fresh fish!”
Arris lifted a warning finger. “The stream flows in front of us, from the east. Let’s keep to the trees and circle around, thus coming upon it without exposing ourselves.”
“We need woodsmen’s garb,” Hans complained.
“Woodsmen’s garb won’t help us,” Arris murmured.
Well within the trees, they topped a rise and found a sizable stream tumbling down a gentle slope, icy cold from the melting snowcaps spawning it. Little streamlets breaking from the main body gathered into quiet pools before resuming the tumultuous course to the Lost River.
Hans alit and studied the water. “Aha! Brook trout! Where’s my spear?” He strode to Parsius and pulled the weapon from its strap. “Come to dinner, my finny friends!”
Davon chuckled as he joined Arris and Charles on their perch atop a nearby log. “Does his appetite know no bounds?”
“I don’t think so,” Charles remarked dryly, castin
g Hans an amused glance. “He’s a walking bottomless stomach.” He turned then to Arris. “What of your voices?”
Arris shook his head. “I’ve not heard them.” He reached down to pluck a shoot of tender grass and chewed it thoughtfully. “I wonder, however, if the Little People might be following.”
“At Nedra’s behest?” Davon mused.
Arris shrugged and spat out a stringy green wad. “She claims as friends the shadows, the trees, the mountains and the stags. Why not as well the Little People?”
“Hey!” Hans proudly held up his spear, upon which he had impaled four fish. “Look at this. Four fine trout.”
A shrill scream shattered the stillness. Davon, Charles and Arris jumped to their feet and whipped out their swords, standing back to back as they peered into the undergrowth. Hans remained at the stream, his spear—fish and all—poised to throw.
“That’s not Baugonril,” Davon whispered. “What is it?”
“Where is it?” Charles fumed. “I can’t see anything!”
“Directly overhead.” Arris closed his eyes and put his free hand to his temple. “One of Ryadok’s spies, a great bird he has summoned from the netherworld.”
The bird screamed again. Gigantic wings beat the air, furiously whipping the branches around them.
Arris whirled toward Hans, who still stood in the brook holding his upraised spear. “Hans! Get rid of the fish. We must flee deeper into the woods without delay. Hurry! It alights!” Arris sheathed his sword and leapt onto Barada’s back. “Hurry!” he hissed, turning the prancing stallion to face his companions.
Hans’ face filled with agony as he regarded his catch.
“Leave them,” Arris commanded, “or we’ll not live to eat them!”
Hans drove the spearhead into the ground and scraped off the trout with his boot. Yanking the weapon free, he sprinted to Parsius.
A gigantic shadow fell across the meadow and a turbulent wind drove dirt and dried needles into their stinging eyes. From the corner of his eye, Arris saw what resembled an enormous vulture settling awkwardly on the grass outside the trees. The air quieted as the behemoth folded its wings and lumbered toward the stream.
Impulsively, Arris spun Barada around and fitted an arrow to his bowstring. The shot went cleanly through the bird’s right eye and exited the other side of its head. Squawking and flapping, the crazed creature thrashed about, finally collapsing in a cloud of dusty, convulsing feathers.
“Away!” Arris shouted. “We must not linger here!”
“Ach! My lovely fish!” Hans moaned as he spurred his horse forward.
The sun had begun a slow descent when they reached the northern edge of the meadow surrounding Kapras Rock.
“What was that thing?” Hans asked as they reined in and dismounted.
“Another demon conjured by our friend,” Arris returned.
“Ah, yes.” Hans cast doleful eyes at the sky. His brows knit together then and he glowered at Arris. “Ach, man, if you meant to kill it, why did you have me toss my fish?”
“I didn’t intend to,” Arris returned. “I acted on impulse.”
“Now we’ve not so much as a stream to—”
“After today you can do as you wish. I’ll burden you no longer.” Arris gazed into the blood-red sky.
“What are you saying, Arris?” Charles asked quietly.
“The Dark Lord knows an Arganian has entered his land,” Arris said. “As long as I remain with you, he will ascertain your every move. I must now go my own way—alone.”
“What—how would he know?” Hans spluttered.
Arris’ steady gaze lingered momentarily on each face before moving to the next. “He was a Nimbian of the highest Arganian order, chief of our most prestigious Council and second only to the king himself. His power drove him mad.” Arris noted their blanched faces and moistened his lips. “I can say no more.”
Charles caught his breath. “You know him, then.”
Arris did not answer.
Davon strode to his brother’s side. “You shall not go alone.”
“I must!” Arris shouted. He quickly collected himself and looked down, biting his lip. “I must,” he repeated quietly. “Stay with Charles and Hans, I beg you.”
“No,” Davon protested.
“We’ll find another way,” Charles interjected.
“There is none. If I stay, he’ll see your every move and hear your every word. I’ve not the strength to prevent this.”
“If it costs my life I will go with you,” Davon protested.
“You cost us both our lives if you do.” Arris’ troubled gaze met Davon’s anguished face. “Please know that I hold you in the highest esteem and cherish you above all I have ever held dear.” To Hans and Charles he continued, “And you also, dear comrades.” He raised his eyes heavenward. “And now his soundless voice bids me join him. . .and I must obey. . . ” A dreamy expression crossed his face. . . “my master.”
“He cannot have you!” Davon cried.
Hans planted his robust frame in front of Arris. Hardened muscles bulged under his heavy shirt. “You’ll not get by me, lad,” he growled. A silent signal passed from him to Charles. Together they sprang at Arris, who lithely evaded them and leapt onto Barada’s back.
“Believe me when I say I do this for your good. Farewell, my friends.” Arris turned and galloped into the trees.
“He’ll not escape so easily.” Charles grabbed Vitimihovna’s reins, but Davon caught his sleeve. Charles whirled, startled at the unexpected serenity on the Nimbian’s face.
Davon put a finger to his lips. “I know what he’s doing.”
Hans marched to him, scowling darkly. “Out with it!”
Davon smiled and motioned for them all to sit. More than a little perplexed, they lowered themselves into the sweet grass near the edge of the clearing. Still smiling, Davon beckoned them closer. “He rides to the castle. Concerning what happened here—” With his hands, Davon carefully formed the letters, ‘PLOY.’
“Ah!” Charles raised his head.
Hans protested, “But he still—”
Davon raised a hand to silence him.
“How will we know what’s happening?” Hans whispered.
Davon tapped a finger to his chest. I will know.
Arronmyl’s band, fully mounted and newly supplied, arrived shortly after daybreak the following day. Nedra’s eyes swept the trio seated on the ground eating their meager breakfast of herbs and jerky. Hans waved, but Charles surmised she sought only Arris.
Charles rose and strode to meet them. “You traveled swiftly.”
Arronmyl nodded. “Aye, but not without incident. A band of ruffians accosted us last night.” He paused. “Where’s our Arganian friend?”
Nedra’s face fell. “Taken, as I foretold,” she whispered. “We have lost him.”
“Is this so?” Arronmyl demanded.
“We, too, encountered misfortune,” Charles told them. “An enormous turkey tried to eat us.”
“It was a roc,” Nedra said softly.
“Whatever. It’s basting in its own putrid juices now,” Hans growled.
Charles noted their weary faces and motioned to an open spot amid the scattered trees. “Come, sit down.”
“We can’t,” Arronmyl returned grimly. “There was a spy among the Rauths. We’re no longer the hunters, but the hunted.” He paused. “What of our Arganian friend? Has he indeed turned against us?”
“He did what he thought best,” Charles answered.
“Really.” Arronmyl rested his steely gaze upon Davon, who regarded him calmly. “What about his brother here?”
“Neither brother poses a threat. I trust them with my life.”
Arronmyl’s breath whistled through his teeth. “We’ll see.” Turning to his men, he shouted, “Prepare to move!”
“Shouldn’t we wait for Marcos?” Charles asked.
“The maids will meet and guide him to us. We can’t wait. The Rauths know we�
�re not hunters. None of us would have escaped, save Nedra sensed their intent and warned us.”
So she is gifted indeed, Charles thought. Can Ryadok detect her presence, as Arris believes Ryadok detects his?
“Elvia and Tabitha—wait here for Marcos,” Arronmyl instructed. “Nedra, come with us. We require your skills, and Raina can aid you.”
Charles, Hans, and Davon had already mounted their horses. “Will you ride with us?” Arronmyl asked them.
Charles nodded. “Of course. We fight the same foe.”
“Let me ride ahead with them, Father,” Nedra said. “If danger lurks, I can warn you.” Arronmyl grunted assent. Nedra mounted her sturdy palomino and trotted up beside Charles as he set out ahead of the company. “What of Arris?” she asked quietly.
“As someone with a special gift, I had hoped you could tell me.” Charles shot her a sideways glance.
“I sensed only that he had gone, but could not tell where or why.” Nedra moistened her lips, and Charles understood the Arganian’s discomfiture. “I fear I’ve upset him. I didn’t mean to. I suspect wilderness manners offend Nimbian sensitivities.”
“Our situation upset him, not you. It takes more than anything you could do to offend Arris. Believe me, I know that better than anyone.” Charles smiled.
Nedra’s tensed shoulders relaxed. “Thank you,” she said softly, and dropped back beside the petulant Hans, who had been crowding ever closer.
Arronmyl, however, rode behind with his band, and when they reached a large clearing turned aside and motioned one of his men to join him. He waited for the others to pass before speaking.
“Benno, I have a difficult, but necessary task. I trust only you, for no one possesses a keener eye or steadier hand.” His eyes bored into Benno’s. “This must be kept between us.”
“I’ll do whatever you ask,” Benno returned.
“I don’t believe Bordner. You yourself heard Nedra say the Arganian has joined our enemy. He knows our plans. This makes him dangerous.”