“Or how long these battles would go on.”
John sipped his wizard tea. “Gah, what’s in this?”
Giddi chuckled. “I forgot you hate fennel and aniseed, sorry. It’ll help you heal from the inside.” Giddi hesitated.
“What is it?”
“If I’m not here next time you come, you know where your things are, right?”
“Why wouldn’t you be here?”
Giddi shrugged, his eyes flitting away. “We live in perilous times.”
There were only two reasons Giddi would leave his cottage in the woods—war or death. John cracked his knuckles. Unless Giddi was thinking of going through the world gate after Mazyka? Surely not. When he sealed the world gate all those years ago, Giddi had promised Anakisha never to open it again.
§
Giant John and Midnight left at dawn, traveling hard all day, through the night and throughout the next day. Many of the villages they passed in Spanglewood Forest had tharuk outposts nearby, their ominous presence cloaking the land with Commander Zens’ evil shadow. Whenever possible, Giant John skirted around villages, taking back trails through the forest. Midnight was fast, surefooted and didn’t spook easily, but a short way from Montanara, as they joined the main route, she started rolling her eyes and snorting.
A rotten stench drifted across the track, and a tharuk tracker stepped out of the trees, blocking the trail. “You,” it snarled, tusks glistening with dark saliva. Its nostrils dilated, scenting him. “We seek big man. Like you. Where are you going?”
“Home to Montanara.” Giant John pictured a cottage on the town outskirts, where his friend lived, keeping the image firmly in his mind, in case a mind-bender was near. Sure enough, a second tharuk stepped out of the trees, its black eyes narrowed on him. Then a third, neither tracker nor mind-bender, just a red-eyed grunt.
The mind-bender approached. Giant John’s thoughts swirled. He held onto the image of his ‘home’, fighting the rush of terror the beast sent at him.
His fears had been realized. Word had gotten to these troops that other tharuks had been hunting him. How? Apart from sleeping at Giddi’s, he’d traveled non-stop since Tooka Falls. It was almost as if they had messenger pigeons. There was movement among the trees as more tharuks sneaked through the woods to surround him.
Digging his heels into Midnight’s sides, Giant John yelled, “Go!”
She leaped ahead, charging at the tharuk tracker, striking him in the chest with her hoof. The tracker rolled aside, and the trail was open.
“Go, Midnight,” Giant John yelled, snapping her reins.
Midnight surged forward.
The tracker roared. His troops pounded the forest floor behind them. Giant John leaned low against Midnight’s neck, urging her on. She galloped along the trail through Spanglewood Forest. Low-hanging foliage whipped against Giant John’s face and slapped against Midnight’s flanks.
She powered onward, her thundering hooves drowning out the sound of pursuit. It would be dark soon, but Giant John suffered no illusions: trackers only needed scent, not light, to hunt down their quarry.
By the time they stopped in a meadow outside Montanara, the evening’s shadows had crept across the fields. Midnight’s sides were heaving and her head drooped. Giant John let the reins hang slack, but she had no energy to eat. He slipped off her back and patted her neck. Her flanks steamed in the cool night air. He tugged the reins, pulling her head down.
Giant John breathed a sigh of relief as she lipped the grass, ripping it out of the earth. He waited for her to eat, then walked her to the stables. On Montanara’s outskirts, he’d often stabled his own horses here and frequented the tavern next door. But tonight, he wouldn’t be stopping for an ale. The tavern was humming, and the fewer who saw him, the better.
Giant John opened the gate to the stables. Giddi had sent a messenger bird to warn the owner that they were coming, so the front stall was empty and supplied with clean hay. He unbuckled Midnight’s saddle and hung it up. Patting the mare fondly, he left, easing the gate shut behind him. He had a hard trek by foot over the snow-clad mountains before he reached the blue guards near Dragons’ Hold.
A burst of raucous laughter came from the tavern as a patron stepped outside to pee. Giant John melted into the darkness. He’d have to push himself hard. No doubt, that tracker was still on his trail.
§
Bill fastened his breeches, grinning at the large figure disappearing into the shadows. That very evening, he’d received a message from a crow about a large man wanted by tharuks. By mind-melding with the crow he’d seen the man they wanted—someone with the same gait and stature as the huge man sneaking off into the forest.
The crow’s troop would be here by morning. Zens would reward him well for this information. Bill licked his lips and went back inside for another ale.
The next morning, when the troop arrived, Bill stepped out of the tavern. “I have something for you,” he said, addressing a tracker. The sheer power in the brute’s gaze was enviable. Pride surged through Bill. To think he was on the winning side, the side that would rule the whole of Dragons’ Realm. He bowed. “A crow told me last night that you’re seeking a large man.”
The tracker grunted, narrowing its eyes.
“Bill, at your service.” Bill revealed the inside of his left elbow. “He went toward the river.”
The tracker inspected Bill’s elbow, then barked at his underlings, “Tie the spy up and take him back to Zens with the others. 764 and I will find the giant.” The tracker spun and sped off toward the river, nostrils quivering.
Two grunts bound Bill’s hands, but Bill didn’t fight.
