Sometime before dusk they came across a trickling stream which had pooled against a beaver dam. In the middle of the pool stood an old pecan tree; it looked like an island tower surrounded by scores of little boats formed from the leaves and hulls floating on the surface. It sort of resembled how Vanx pictured the place called the Sea Spire; only the Sea Spire was a towering needle-like projection of black stone which jutted up out of the ocean for no reason any Zyth or human could say. Master Ogzon, who’d seen it firsthand, had described it in his lore lessons. The sight of the tree island and the memories it evoked reminded Vanx that he still had many places to see, and that he might be getting too caught up in the affairs of humankind. After all, he would still be youthful in heart and appearance long after Gallarael and Trevin died of old age.
A complaint spoken by Matty to Darbon in a rather harsh tone brought Vanx back to the moment.
“We’ll make camp here,” he said to the others.
“Go farther, or let’s backtrack a ways,” Trevin said. His voice was crisp and clear, as was his complexion. It looked to Vanx like the day of resting and riding had brought him back to form. Gallarael’s condition, though, hadn’t changed. She still looked hot to the touch and was as limp as a rag doll.
“Why not here?” Darbon asked before Matty could start in on him again.
“The pool will draw creatures throughout the night. They, in turn, will draw predators.” Trevin caught Vanx’s eyes with a serious look. “We can fill our skins and wash off the dust, but camping this close to water hole isn’t wise.”
“Aye,” Vanx agreed as he booted over a dried-up carcass that at first appeared to be nothing more than a moss-covered rock. Only bones, gristle, and a few persistent silver-green beetles remained underneath the brittle hide.
“We will need to gather wood before the sun sets,” Trevin added. His voice betrayed the concern he was feeling. “She needs more of your brew, man.”
“I’d hate to be out here in the dark,” said Darbon.
“I’ll fill the skins then,” Matty growled. “Let’s get on with it. The sooner I’m in my blanket, the sooner my bones will stop screaming.”
Trevin helped Darbon and Vanx gather up some wood, then they walked the animals a quarter of a mile past the pool and made camp in a small clearing. The open area was surrounded by high-branched hardwood trees, which allowed them a good line of sight.
The fire was blazing. Vanx split up the last of the herbs so that after this pot there would still be enough to brew another diluted one. Darbon went about tying off the animals. He gave the horse enough tether for it to graze, then poured a generous pile of fishmeal for the haulkats. Trevin made a pallet for Gallarael and quietly laid her in it while Matty asked for privacy and went back to the pool to bathe.
After getting Gallarael to swallow a cupful of Vanx’s brew, Trevin let her rest and paced around uneasily. “We’ve got to hurry Vanx,” he said. “She’s hot enough to thaw all the ice on Bitterpeak.”
“Even if we galloped night and day it would take maybe three full days to get to Dyntalla.” Vanx frowned. “I don’t know what more we can do.”
Trevin let out a long, slow sigh and glanced around the camp. “We’ll need two sentries at a time watching this night.” He strode around the campfire until it was exactly between him and Vanx. “Next time, we set the fire off to a side. One pair of eyes can’t see what’s coming beyond this blaze, and I’d rather have the fire roaring than not.”
Vanx started to say that he could see well beyond the fire with or without its light, but caught himself. He was fairly certain that knowing that he was half Zythian wouldn’t change the way his companions felt about him, but he wasn’t ready to take that chance. Too many of his people had returned from their travels through the realms of men with sad and pathetic tales of jealousy and hatred toward his kind. What always irritated him most about the stories was that he was as much human as he was Zythian. By all rights, he should hate himself for one half being envious of the other. He chuckled at the absurdity of it all and wished he had a lute with which to play a song. Music had a way of clearing his mind and easing his troubles.
The sky was dark now and the pinpricks of a multitude of stars filled the night sky. Over the crackling of the fire, a lone owl hooted every now and again. The constant hum and chirp of the crickets and cicadas was lost in the mix. Then there was the crackling of dry deadfall and the sound of footsteps coming in from the forest. Everyone was expecting Matty’s return, so none of them gave the approaching sound a serious thought, at least not until a small, doggish creature, about half the size of a man, barged into the firelight. It was ugly, with gnarled bones and greenish-black skin. Seeing the humans at the fire, the creature flared open bright amber eyes and hissed through a mouth full of sharp, yellowed teeth. With the quickness of a wild animal, it darted back into the forest.
“What in all the nine hells was that?” Trevin asked as he fumbled for his sword.
“I don’t know,” said Darbon with a voice full of concern. “But it went toward Matty.” He pulled the dagger from his belt and strode into the forest in the general direction of the pool. Trevin started to follow, but Vanx blocked his way.
“Stay with Gal,” Vanx said, and before Trevin could finish blinking, Vanx was gone.
Vanx could see as if it were a typical overcast day. He couldn’t so much make out the distinguishing colors of things as he could discern the textures of what his eyes took in. The rough bark of the trees contrasted with the silky blackness of open space. The uneven, yet relatively smooth forest floor appeared as a deeply shadowed carpet before him. He moved quickly and quietly, like a predatory animal seeking to flank its prey. In a matter of moments he could see Matty ahead standing thigh-deep in the pool, cupping water in her hands and letting it run down her glistening body. Her hair was wet and hung over most of her face, concealing her ugly bruises. The moonlight accentuated the swell of her breasts and the curve of her hips, causing Vanx to have to look away.
“Matty,” he said an urgent whisper. “Get out of there.”
“Hmmm,” she sounded with a seductive giggle. “I knew you’d come to your senses sooner or later, pretty man.”
“I’m not out here to dally with you, woman. There’s danger about and Darby has gone off in the dark to save you.”
“Darbon?” She glanced around, attempting to cover her body with her arms. “Where are you, Vanx? What’s going on?”
“I’m over…” Vanx was about to step into the open so that she could see him, but the strange beast darted out before he could take a step. Vanx decided that it was a Kobalt, a stunted sort of half-troll that was supposed to be semi-intelligent. The tales Vanx had heard said the creatures roamed in packs like wolves. This thought only served to increase his alarm, as Matty, who apparently thought the thing was him, went wading toward it.
The Kobalt froze at the sight of her. Vanx decided then and there that very few creatures, sentient or not, could keep from pausing at the sight of a well-rounded woman bathing naked in the moonlight. Her scream came as Vanx realized that he had no weapon with him.
“Matty!” Darbon’s voice called out from not far away. “Maaaaa-teeeee!” he yelled again. “Where are you?”
The Kobalt looked toward the sound and hesitated. Vanx used the moment to make a move. With deft swiftness he took two strides, scooped up a club-sized piece of deadfall and hurled it end over end at the creature.
Matty froze, trembling in knee-deep water, but when the chunk of dried oak hit the Kobalt and splintered, she screamed again. The Kobalt howled out too, as it pitched forward into the shallow water.
“Maaaaaatt-eeeeeee!” Darbon yelled again.
The Kobalt staggered to its feet.
“Over here, Darby. Hurry!” Matty yelled as she pushed herself back into the waist-deep water.
The Kobalt lurched away and disappeared into the trees. Vanx had concerns that it might rejoin its pack and come back for revenge, but in the late spring, a lone male of any species wandering around usually meant an alpha was culling out his pack.
After the Kobalt was gone, Vanx spoke from his place in the shadows. “That boy is smitten with you, Matty,” Vanx told her in a severe whisper. “He came to save you like a knight would a princess.”
Matty kept her arms over her breasts and moved to the shore where her clothes were piled. “Is he lost?” she asked, trying to cover herself.
