Sword of Ice and Other Tales of Valdemar

And so it would have been, if not for their target. As one, the two men flicked out their loops of tough woven rope, their hands steady, their aim true, both lassos flaring out to settle around the neck of their quarry.

Or would have, if the horse hadn't danced out of the way of the snares with a graceful ease, as if it had known exactly where they were all the while. Treyon exhaled in relief. Caith, noticing the boy's reaction, cuffed him again.

The horse neighed, the noise sounding like laughter in the silence, then turned and slowly trotted off through the trees.

Caith stood up, grimacing, and called out 'By the Hells, I want that horse! Toren, Soren, take two men and run it down, damn it. Don't come back without it.' Another fool's errand to send them off on, just like finding the boy, he thought.

The twins stood, one of them pointing to two other men, and the foursome set out after the shrinking white figure. Caith put his back against a tree as he waited with the last two bandits. He looked around, then snorted, 'Don't know why that horse is here when our own horses wouldn'a come in. Haunted forest, my arse.'

One of the other men, a newer arrival whom Treyon didn't know, spoke up, 'Maybe it's a Companion.'

'Oh? Is it? Where's the bleedin' Herald? Hells, no,' Caith snorted again, 'Just got a little more horse sense than usual. Living in the wild'll do that to an animal sometimes. What better place for a horse to live than here, eh?'

'Breeze's dying down.' the other bandit remarked.

Treyon had been standing as well, pulled to his feet when Caith had risen. Looking around, he also noticed the lack of wind. Which made what else he saw even more unusual, easily passing into terrifying.

With barely a rustle, the trees around the bandits were slowly bending their branches down toward each of the men's heads. Treyon remained motionless, not wanting to attract any attention to himself. Caith and his men continued their idle conversation, unaware of the movement until Caith looked again at Treyon.

'Here now, what are you lookin—' His voice trailed off as he followed Treyon's gaze to the surrounding foliage, which quivered, then suddenly lashed out.

Caith, his reflexes quicker than the other two, released Treyon and dove to the ground, thinking to find safety there. When he hit the ground, thick roots erupted all around him, completely wrapping his body in brown tendrils and drawing him slowly underground, his screaming face the last thing to vanish.

The other men, caught completely by surprise, fared just as badly. One never got a chance to move, impaled by a thick limb that burst from his stomach like a third arm. The other managed to get his dagger out before several tree branches wrapped around his neck and jerked him, struggling and strangling, into its leaves, his knife arm flailing uselessly as he disappeared from sight. A few seconds later, the dagger skittered down the tree trunk and fell to the ground underneath it.

Treyon watched all this without moving, without even blinking. He just stood there, until the screams finished echoing through the woods. Finally, all was silent again, the only sign of disturbance being the impaled bandit's body still standing grotesquely upright. Treyon straightened up and took a hesitant step forward, then another, then another, and took off again, running through the forest until his legs would carry him no farther. Sinking to the ground under another large tree, heedless of the cursed forest and what might happen to him, Treyon fell asleep almost before he hit the ground.

The cracks and pops of a fire slowly woke Treyon. The first sensation he had was of pleasant warmth surrounding him. The second was the unmistakable smell of something cooking, making his stomach clench with hunger.

Treyon slowly blinked the last bits of sleep away, aware that he was still tired, but too concerned with trying to figure out where he was to rest any more. He flexed his hand slowly, feeling the mat of dry grasses he was laying on. Overhead, a canopy of trees blocked out the sky.

Meaning I'm still in the forest, Treyon thought. Moving his head slowly to the side, he looked first at the trees which surrounded him, trees that grew so close together they made natural walls encircling the small clearing, although here and there small gaps of darkness showed through. Treyon shuddered as he remembered the attack of the forest again.

The only opening was a small break on the opposite wall of trees, past the fire in the middle of the room and the cloaked form crouched in front of it.

Treyon gasped in surprise, for his bandit-trained senses hadn't noticed the figure until just a few seconds ago. Sitting upright, he tensed to bolt for the small exit. A few steps and a dive and he would be free.

'Finally awake, I see?' the indistinct shape said in a clear, gentle voice, still facing away from him. 'If you wish to leave, by all means, there is no one here to stop you. Of course, there is no one here who wishes you harm, either.'

Treyon flattened himself against the tree wall, his eyes still upon the figure who had appeared seemingly out of nowhere. The bandit part of his mind was still screaming that this was a trap. The being continued, apparently unmindful of Treyon's fear.

'Of course, I'd rather you stayed a bit and dined with me. It has been far too long since a stranger found his way to my doorstep, such as it is. And it would be a shame to waste most of this stew.'

At the mention of food the rich stew smell floated into Treyon's nose again, reminding him how painfully hungry he was. It had been so long, if ever, since he had eaten a meal that was more than scraps and leavings from the brigands. The part of his mind that was still wary of a trap was quickly being overpowered by the demands of his stomach, but, Treyon thought, if—whatever it is— had wanted to, it could have done anything to me while I slept. I should have woken up bound or held somehow. Hells, even if this is a trap, it II be worth it for a full stomach.

Summoning up the scraps of manners he knew, gained mainly from watching the bandits beg and scrape to Ke'noran, Treyon got up from the bed of grass and stood. 'Can I have some food, then?'

The figure turned toward him, pushing back its hood and Treyon saw a man, his face unlined yet somehow

looking very old, framed by a mane of fine silver hair. The ageless face smiled gently, and the man extended an already full wooden bowl. 'Of course, child.'

Snatching it away, Treyon hunched over the bowl protectively and tried to scoop out a handful, only to yelp in pain as he burned his fingers. The man winced as Treyon blew on his injured hand and held out a spoon-shaped piece of wood, not carved, but looking like it had been naturally formed. 'Try this.'

Gingerly Treyon took the spoon, scooped up some of the stew and blew on it for a few seconds, then popped it into his mouth. Chewing fast, he sucked in air to further cool the hot food. All the while, his arm was curled protectively around the comfortably warm bowl.

The stranger said nothing, just watched him eat and refilled his bowl when it was held out. After Treyon had finished his third helping, he belched and asked for something to drink, receiving another bowl already filled with clear spring water.

His stomach full and ready to face whatever was asked of him, knowing it would be easier to take if he was prepared, Treyon squared his shoulders and looked at the man. 'What do you want?'

The man looked up from stacking the bowls in a corner, the question clear from the expression on his face.

Treyon continued, 'For the food and shelter. Work, or anything else you want. It's all right, I'm used to it. Just tell me.'

The man's head lowered again, his shoulders shaking silently. Treyon thought he might have been laughing, but when he raised his head again the tears on his cheeks gleamed in the firelight. 'By the Gods, boy, you're only twelve or thirteen at the most. What has been done to you?' Taking a deep breath, he wiped his face. 'I don't ask anything of you other than your company.' Seeing the look on Treyon's face, he added hastily, 'Just talk, that's all.'

'Oh.' The word turned into a yawn as his comfortably full stomach and the warmth of the fire made Treyon sleepy.

'Why don't you rest some more, and we can talk in the morning.' The man said quietly. Treyon found himself growing sleepy just listening, but he wasn't convinced of his safety quite yet.

'What about the trees?' he mumbled as his eyelids drooped.

'Nothing will harm you, not while you're with me.' the man replied, turning back to the fire.