six? The abelaat had eight fangs,” Jo asked.
“I’m not sure what they’re for, but we’ll find out. As to there being only six, I’d guess that only six measures of poisoned spittle found blood,” answered Flinn, his eyes returning to the crystals.
Jo shivered again from the cold. The wind was picking up, and the two of them were soaked.
Flinn stood and scanned the hills around them. His face grew pale. “Did you see which way Ariac headed? If he could make his way out of this valley, I’m guessing he’s not too badly injured. He’s quick to panic once he’s hurt.”
Jo pointed northward. “He went that way; you can see his trail. He was bleeding quite a bit…”
A deafening roar swelled strangely inside Flinn’s head, drowning out Jo’s voice. He shook his head, tapping his ear. Then he spotted a mounted horseman, watching from the southern crest of the valley. The figure wore armor and a midnight-blue tunic. Flinn turned toward it, squinting, but it melted into the forest. Snow began cascading down, and the moan of the wind deepened.
“Come,” he said abruptly, scooping the crystals up and placing them in his belt pouch. He considered whether to tell Jo about the figure he’d seen. The wind howled again. “We’ve got to go, Johauna, or the storm will trap us here.” Already the sky was growing dark.
“Let me at least stop the bleeding here in your side-and your head, and your shoulders.”
He shook his head. “There isn’t time. Gather the things-and hurry! We’re both wet and chilled to the bone, and we won’t last long out here if we don’t move.”
Flinn’s dark eyes scanned the area where he had seen the mounted knight. The snow had begun to fall fast. “We’d die before catching him on foot,” Flinn murmured to himself.
Just why was a knight from the Castle of the Three Suns watching him? And why did the knight let him and Jo fight the abelaat unaided? Why?
“Flinn?” Jo called, breaking his reverie. “Is something wrong? I’ve gathered our things. Shall we go?”
He looked at the girl again, wondering again if he should tell her of the figure he had seen, but he decided against it. Until he could discern why they had been watched, he wouldn’t frighten her. He took his sword and breastplate from her, and then they began following the griffon’s trail out the valley.
“Ariac hasn’t lost his sense of direction-he’s heading for home-which means he’ll be all right. We’ll follow his trail while we can,” he added, flashing a concerned look at the thickly falling snow. The mounting wind promised a terrible storm. Flinn tried to hurry his pace, but felt a sudden pain rip through his side. The abelaat’s claws had done more damage than he had thought.
“Here, let me help,” Jo said. She pulled his free arm over her shoulders, her right arm going around his back. Flinn lurched forward and almost fell.
“Take it easy, Flinn. We’ll get there… we’ll get there,” the girl struggled to hold up his weight. “Let’s just make it up the hill.”
Flinn focused his remaining energy on the task the girl had set him. “I’ll make it, Jo.” His tired eyes looked around the valley once more, both fearing and hoping to see the mailed horseman.
Jo feared they would never top that first hill, or the second, or the third. Snow piled deep in the protected, wooded spaces, impeding their progress. They floundered through the thigh-high snow, uncertain of the footing. The undergrowth tore at them, raking their exposed hands and faces.
Jo and Flinn were both freezing, their clothes drenched from the stream and the snow. Only the struggle of moving forward kept their joints from stiffening and their limbs from going numb. But their strength was waning rapidly. Night loomed in the east, swallowing the thick clouds. The falling snow darkened the sky even more. Jo’s lips drew into a tight line as she studied the snow-choked woods. At least the trees cut the wind, she thought. And though Ariac’s tracks were being covered by the snow, Jo could still make out the depressions and broken branches marking his passage.
“Take another step, Flinn,” she mumbled, hardly aware of the words. “We’ll be home soon. To the top of this hill, Flinn, to the top.”
She tried not to think about how far they had come, for she knew the path ahead was much longer than that behind. The swirling snow and the dark sky confused her sense of direction. Although she was sure they were lost, remaining still meant only freezing death. She gritted her teeth, determined to press on to the cabin or die of exhaustion.
“Another step, Flinn, another step,” she murmured. “One more hill to go.”
A familiar screech broke through the surrounding wind, and Jo stopped. Ariac? she wondered. Could the griffon be coming back to us? She searched the gloom ahead of her, her eyes so tired she could only focus on passing flakes of snow and not beyond.
Jo saw the griffon led by the wildboy, Dayin, appear through the gloom. Seeing them, the boy hurried forward with the steed. Exhausted, Jo leaned against Flinn, hoping he wouldn’t fall. She was certain she would crumple if he did and that neither would rise again. Brushing aside a frozen tendril of hair from her eyes, she pulled her wet vest closer.
The boy halted beside them, and Ariac bent his head to gently nibble at his master. The griffon squealed in distress. His forequarters where the creature had raked him had stopped bleeding, though the wounds had not been dressed.
“Jo,” Flinn said hoarsely, “climb into the saddle. We’re almost home.”
“You’re hurt, Flinn.” Jo’s whispered words emerged from lips so numb she doubted she really said them. “You get on Ariac; I’ll lead.”
The warrior gave her a push. “No, Ariac’s too injured to bear my weight,” he said weakly.
“Then we’ll all three walk.”
“Fine. You get on the other side and loop your hand through the stirrup,” Flinn responded mechanically. He gestured to the boy. “Dayin, lead us home.”
The rest of that trip was lost to Jo’s memory. She knew only that she clung to the griffon’s saddle and that she found a little warmth from his body. The snow fell relentlessly. The wind howled overhead, and dead branches rained down on them. Darkness fell, too, the true blackness of a night let loose to the elements. Jo’s wet garments clung to her coldly. She wanted only to lie down in the white, white snow.
Then, somehow, they found themselves standing before the bam. Johauna fell to the ground, her legs numb from the hips down. A strange haze was engulfing her, and she wanted to sleep. The wind had begun to sing to her.
Someone was shaking her, forcing her to stand again. It was Flinn. “Dayin,” she heard the warrior say, “the lantern’s inside and to the right. Take Jo inside and light a fire. Make sure she doesn’t sleep! I have to tend Ariac.”
The boy led her inside the cabin, quickly lit the lamp, and helped Jo to the chair before the hearth. He removed her icy outer garments and threw one of the bed’s furs around her. The wildboy removed her shoes and briskly rubbed her feet until the white glow had turned pink. Then Jo felt a pewter tankard against her lips, and a little water wet her mouth. Jo could only stare glassily back at Dayin, her thanks mute on lips too cold to even murmur.
“It’ll be warm soon, pretty one,” the boy was saying.
The numbness in her limbs gave way to a painful prickle, like a thousand needles. The pain cut through the fuzziness of Jo’s mind. She wanted nothing more than to crawl to the bed, but that seemed too great an effort. Her bloodshot eyes mechanically followed Dayin’s movements, and a sensation of warmth began to wrap her skin. Instinctively, she turned toward the hearth, cheered by the glow of yellow flames and the smell of smoke. She held out her hands eagerly. Dayin, sitting at the hearth, smiled and did the same.
Flinn entered the cabin with a gust of snow. He closed and barred the door wearily, then leaned against it. Jo watched him look about the room, fatigue lining his face and making him suddenly look old. She stood and helped him with his wet clothing, piling it beside the door with her own. The warrior sank into the chair, and she covered his shoulders with a fur.
“How’s Ariac?” Jo asked, her own strength slowly returning to her. The painful tingle grew stronger across her body. She took some bandages from the cupboard and with slow, measured movements began dressing Flinn’s
