we are at your service.”
Chapter 19
Corva wanted to be mad at Dostin for slowing him down, but he couldn’t. The monk was as determined as he was to catch up with Telgra. Dostin hadn’t asked for food, or rest, and he didn’t complain when Corva pressed them on through the passes well after dark. Sometimes Dostin pushed the elf. King Jarrek had given them each a horse, and a pack horse for them to share. Corva didn’t ride, though. He loped alongside Dostin’s mount and gave the horses a run for it. Ironically, it was Corva’s haste that caused them to pass right by the quest party encampment in the night.
Both Corva and Dostin saw the bonfire, and the guards. The overloaded wagons looked like they were part of a trade caravan. A single loud snoring, like that of a huge ox or maybe a stud bull, cut through the night. By dawn it was too far behind them to even wonder about. They had no idea that Telgra was coming through the pass toward northern Wildermont. When Corva and Dostin left King Jarrek three days ago, it was assumed she was waiting for them at the red castle in Dreen.
Corva had been mystified to tears by all the destruction they'd seen. It was baffling to think that one wizard could have done so much damage. It was also frightening to think that the Queen Mother had refused to aid King Mikahl and Hyden Hawk, even after Vaegon had pleaded their cause to her. It was true, he realized, that by stopping the demon wizard Pael from manipulating the Wardstone, Mikahl, Hyden, and Vaegon had saved all the races of the realm, including the elves. He was more than a little ashamed when the well loved and respected Wolf King told the whole of the tale. King Jarrek had fought with Vaegon and the others on the walls and in the streets of Xwarda. Had they not just witnessed firsthand High King Mikahl’s bright horse and the power of his sword, they might not have believed the fantastical story. It was hard enough to believe that Pael had tapped the power of demons and leveled the entire city of Castlemont. To think that King Mikahl had eventually cut off the wizard’s head after a grueling two-day duel of magical forces was unfathomable.
Corva planned on having a long talk with Telgra. His hope was to influence her to start chipping away at her mother’s policy of not involving themselves in human affairs. Obviously, the Queen Mother, her advisors, and the many members of elven society had no idea how close they had come to being annihilated. Corva had to find Telgra first, though, and then hope that she would listen to him. She had an open mind, but if she was anything, she was headstrong.
“I need food,” Dostin said weakly as they topped a low-backed ridge of shelved stone. The sun was high overhead but the breeze was cold. Corva decided that the horses needed a break as well.
“Let’s get down there into the valley,” Corva pointed. “There’s less wind, and still some green grass for the horses.”
Dostin didn’t answer; he just heeled his mount down the slope into the multicolored valley below. The trees that still had leaves shivered red and gold and brown in the wind. The monk was glad to find Corva had spoken true. In the valley bottom he found a place in the sun out of the wind and climbed off of his horse with a groan. He took three painful steps and his legs wobbled out from under him.
Corva laughed and took the reins of Dostin’s mounts. He hobbled the horses in a wide patch of grass and went about removing the saddles. He sat the packs by the exhausted monk and rummaged through them until he found some food. They ate bread and cheese and dried salted meat, then drank watered wine from a flask. Dostin fell asleep and Corva sat back and listened to the birds calling over the rustling of the leaves.
He must have slept, too, for when he opened his eyes again he and Dostin were no longer in the sun. Evening was approaching. Reluctantly he woke the monk, and after they ate and drank some more, Dostin gingerly climbed back onto his horse.
Thoughts of seeing the elven princess safe and sound overrode any soreness either of them felt. If they kept their pace, in two days they would be in Dreen. With that in mind, they worked their way up and out of the valley and in total silence kept traveling through the darkness of the night.
The first day had been pleasant for the quest party. The second only slightly less so, but by the third night they were all on edge. The hard board seats hammered at their arses as the wagons worked through the rough mountain road. The four guardsmen rode horses unattached to the wagons and were the envy of the rest of the group. Telgra chose to jog most of the time, which frustrated Phen because he couldn’t keep pace with her, or even the wagons. Overloaded as they were, the four-horse teams had little trouble pulling them along at a brisk pace.
Unbelievably, the nights were worse than the days. Oarly’s persistent and extremely loud snoring carried on from the time he fell asleep until he woke. And waking him during the night was impossible. Luckily, the dwarf was up just before dawn every morning by himself. Only then did anyone else get a chance to sleep. The group had unconsciously been leaving camp later in the mornings and traveling longer into the night, so that they could steal those few hours of sleep as the sun rose. Everyone in the group, save for Phen and Oarly, was red-eyed and cranky at best.
Phen wasn’t as affected by the almost scary sounds of the dwarf’s snores. He’d gotten used to it during the long months they’d traveled together. That didn’t stop him from conspiring with Jicks to help the others get at least one full night’s sleep, though.
It was the night after Corva and Dostin had passed them almost unnoticed. Lieutenant Welch spotted them and watched them from afar with a nocked bow in his hand. He was ready to drop either one of them if they ventured too close. No one else paid them any mind.
Phen told the lieutenant of his and Jicks’s plan for the dwarf. The lieutenant didn’t agree with the foolishness, but he knew that the rest of the crew needed a good night’s sleep. Even Lord Gregory pitched in by toasting the might of Doon a dozen times as they ate their rations at the fire.
Telgra said she wanted no part of it. Phen thought that she actually felt sorry for Oarly.
When Oarly passed out drunk and began to snore, Jicks picked him up by the legs and Phen took his arms. The two boys carried him a good way up the valley side. Oarly snored the whole way and never so much as batted an eye as they hauled him along. They laid him out on a flat shelf of rock and then crept away. The horrible sound of his slumber, they figured, would keep anything wild away from him.
“If not the sound, then his smell will keep him safe,” Phen said.
By the time the two boys were back in camp, the others were sleeping soundly. Only the lieutenant who had drawn first watch with one of the archers was awake. Even Telgra, who had protested the trickery vehemently, was asleep.
Later, when Jicks and the other archer were on watch, the youngster found that, without Oarly’s constant snoring to keep him awake, his eyes kept sliding closed. Sleep eventually overcame him. Luckily for the group, the archer stayed alert and the night passed uneventfully.
Oarly woke to a warm, moist smell that was as out of place as the low, rumbling growl he could hear. He opened his eyes to find a curious mountain cat in his face. It wasn’t nearly as frightening as the sea serpent or the dragons he’d been face to face with of late, so he managed to stay calm. Seeing Oarly’s eyes move, the cat’s hackles stood on end and it reared back to pounce. It bared its teeth, and its growl became insistent.
Oarly’s first thought was that the others were in danger, but as he felt his hip for his utility dagger, he came to the conclusion that he wasn’t in the camp anymore. The cat was easily as big as he was, and it was pouncing to attack. Oarly’s dagger wasn’t there. He rolled quickly to the side and found himself in thin air. As he fell, he saw that he was high up the valley slope, above the camp. His heart was in his throat when he hit the rocky ground half a second later. He’d only fallen a few feet. The cat bounded off of the shelf where he had just been and leapt down at him as he rolled through the undergrowth to the valley bottom.
Oarly managed to roll to his feet, stop himself, and turn to meet the beast head on. The cat got a good claw in and opened the dwarf’s shoulder, but Oarly muscled it down and sank his teeth into its nose. In a wild fit of utter terror, the wildcat wiggled and scrabbled and tried to get free. In the process, it sliced Oarly to ribbons with its razor claws. Oarly finally roared and twisted at the wildcat’s neck until it snapped in his grasp.
After a moment, he rolled off the dead animal and inspected himself. He wasn’t dying, but by Doon he had a
