dozen long, bleeding furrows torn through his chest and thighs. He made a mental reminder to relentlessly pursue his revenge for those who were responsible for this jest. He didn’t consider it anything more than that. He would much rather be shredded by a wildcat than endure a day of feeling the effects of squat weed.
Oarly got to his feet, grabbed the dead beast by the scruff of the neck, and dragged it into the camp. He was pleased to find everyone, except for the wide-eyed, open-mouthed archer, sound asleep. The poor archer didn’t even try to protect Jicks or Phen. The sight of the bloody dwarf dragging the mountain cat was enough to leave him awestruck.
Jicks, who should have been awake, was Oarly’s first victim. He knew Jicks would have helped Phen. He was the only one with nards enough to buck Welch. Oarly had been expecting the two of them to pull something. He threw the mountain cat on the sleeping boy and then leapt on top of the pile, keeping the wild animal’s head in Jicks face while he screamed out in terror. The camp came alive then. Only Lord Gregory’s sharp eye kept the waking archer from loosing arrows on the hairy, bloody thing on top of Jicks.
“Phen, you’re in for a horribly long trip,” Oarly yelled. “Remember the cinder pepper? You will beg for that kind of pain.”
“By the gods, Master Oarly, you need attention,” Lieutenant Welch said, trying to calm the wild-looking dwarf.
“No, sir,” Oarly yelled, holding the wildcat’s carcass over his head. “This here wildcat needs the attention. How did you do it, lad?” Oarly asked Phen, blowing bloody spittle from his mouth as he spoke. “Did your blasted little lyna tell the mountain cat to get me? How did you do it? Tell me lad. Tell me how you did it?”
“I didn’t have a wild animal attack you,” Phen said defensively. “We only took you up there because you were snoring so loudly at night.”
“All right then, lad, don’t tell me how you did it.” Oarly threw the wildcat back on top of Jicks. “It was a good trick, I’ll grant ya. But of all of these people, you know the revenge I’ll be exacting on you. It’s a matter of pride now.”
Everyone in the group was speechless. None of them, not even Phen, who knew Oarly better than anyone in the realm, could imagine the dwarf killing the wildcat with his bare hands. And to believe that he thought it was all some elaborate jest was baffling.
Phen mumbled another apology about the wildcat, but Oarly wasn’t trying to hear it. Telgra glared at Phen until he was shamed.
“Come, Master Oarly,” Telgra said sweetly. “We need to tend your wounds. Let these fools clean your kill and make our morning meal.”
Oarly looked at her stupidly for a moment, then down at himself. He was dripping blood from the slices in his skin and breathing quite heavily. “I need me flask, Lady Telgra,” he said in a calmer tone.
“Of course you do.” She gave Phen a look that pierced him deeply. “Phen will fetch it, won’t you, Phen?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Phen said, looking at his marble-colored boots.
Jicks was sitting up now, wiping the tears from his face. It wasn’t clear what had scared him more, the wildcat, or the wild-eyed dwarf. Either would be terrifying to wake up to.
“If you’re done crying like a babe,” the lieutenant said, “then you can explain to me how Master Oarly got close enough to you to scare you to tears. You were on watch duty, boy.”
Jicks flushed bright scarlet and looked away.
“It’s my fault, lieutenant,” Phen insisted. “I talked him into helping me trick Oarly.”
“That has nothing to do with the fact that Jicks was sleeping on his watch,” the lieutenant said. “He put every single one of us at risk, and I’m not about to let him forget it.”
“Latrine duty for the duration of this quest is a start,” Lord Gregory said. “I fell asleep on watch duty once, Jicks. My captain had me shoveling horse shit out of every stable he could find for a year.” The Lion Lord smiled, seeing that Jicks understood the magnitude of his mistake. “I’m sure Lieutenant Welch will come up with a comparable punishment for you. As for Master Oarly’s mishap, I think that we are all to blame for that. I just hate to think about how he will get us back. According to the High King, Oarly is one of the most ruthless tricksters in the realm.”
“Aye,” Phen agreed. “I’m sort of afraid of him now.”
Chapter 20
The thirty-two wood cutters, mill workers, and loaders who had deserted Glendar’s army and wound up on the Isle of Salpahel congregated around the large table of the company cabin. Master Wizard Sholt had already prepared his spell and dusted the table with a silvery powder reagent that was required to make it work. The gathering men were nervous. Lord Spyra banged a goblet on the table, loudly drawing everyone’s attention. The large, imposing form of the former general standing beside the wizard helped bring about a sudden hush.
“In a moment, Sholt here will relieve you of the curse that you’re under, but I have a question I want to ask first.” Spyra began pacing back and forth as if he were about to make a pre-battle speech to encourage his troops. “Have any of you had an urge to go east? Or have any of you heard voices in your head?” He paused in his stride to listen for an answer. “I know nobody wants to sound like a raver, but this is important. Speak up now, and be honest.” He stopped and clasped his hands behind his back and surveyed the men. None of them said a word, but none of them looked away either. He sighed with relief. “Very well then,” he finished with a nod. He opened an arm to the wizard, indicating for him to take over, then made his way outside the cabin.
A few moments later the light of the afternoon sun was challenged momentarily by a surge of bright lavender light. A collective gasp from inside the building coincided with the flash. Lord Spyra shivered involuntarily. The idea of being spelled with magic, even in order to be rid of a curse, was enough to make him cringe.
He was glad the living men who had fallen under Pael’s enchantment were not being called by the Dark One. He had learned his men were tracking some of the others across Westland in a southeasterly direction, and not on a known road. After comparing the reports and looking at a map, he had come to the conclusion that they were all being called to the Dragon Tooth Spire.
With Master Sholt’s help, Spyra planned to send a message to High King Mikahl explaining his findings and informing him of the trip to the Isle of Salazar he and Master Sholt were about to undertake. His orders were to track down the men who had been affected and, with Master Sholt’s help, do what could be done to cure them. His orders were not to chase after rotting undead skeletons who claimed to hear voices, even though his military mind told him that it was of concern.
Men were starting to filter out of the company cabin. Some stopped to thank Spyra, and others questioned him about their freedom.
“You’re as free as any man,” Spyra assured them.
The superintendent, knowing that at least half of the men were as good as gone, was talking about improvements he was planning for the operation. Spyra gave him a shrug that said it wasn’t his fault, then turned and went back inside to check on Sholt. The wizard was slumped at the head of the table. Spyra knew that curing all those men at once had drained him. He sat down beside his old friend, willing to wait while he slept.
Commander Lyle studied the trail that the skeletons and their beast had made when they fled. The tracks led them north to Xway but disappeared there. Lyle picked up the trail again west of the bridge. After some intense questioning, they learned that no one in Xway had seen anything out of the ordinary. The bridge guard and the toll man hadn’t allowed a group of hooded men, certainly no skeletons, across the bridge, yet the trail resumed on the other side of the Pixie River and continued straight west through the countryside. After following for two full days on horseback, Commander Lyle knew that they should have come upon anyone who was traveling on foot.
Already Commander Lyle could see Seaward City a good day’s ride to the west and slightly north of the trail. He was confused and unable to figure out how the skeletons were covering ground on foot faster than his trackers were on horseback.
Lieutenant Garret didn’t have much to offer on the matter. He stated that there was no bridge across the Southron River within a hundred miles of Seaward City. Its flow was considerably stronger and wider than the Pixie River, which the skeletons might have been able to wade across. That wasn’t possible here. Garret suggested being
