Enraged, Tanis slugged Caven. The two rolled off the stallion, hit the ground without loosing their holds on each other, and writhed and wrestled in the dirt. Dust and plant stems flew in the air as they pummeled each other. Xanthar coasted down again and landed nearby, watching with amusement.
Tanis was outweighed by the larger human, and soon the slighter half-elf was prone on the ground, fighting for breath under Caven's bulk. Tanis spat out dirt and fumed with the humiliation. The half-elf flailed ineffectually, but with Caven sitting on his back, there was little Tanis could do. Finally he gathered enough air to speak just above a whisper. Caven couldn't hear him and leaned closer.
"What is it, half-elf?"
"I said it should be interesting being the husband of Kitiara Uth Matar. Imagine marrying your own commanding officer. What a marriage that will be!"
Caven stood up hurriedly, disconcerted, allowing Tanis to roll over and get up.
"Marry?" Caven asked. "Who said anything about marrying? You know Kitiara. There's probably a half-dozen men between here and Kernen who could vie for the title of papa of Kitiara's byblow."
"And one half-elf—you forget."
Sarcasm oozed from the swordsman's words. "I suppose the honorable Tanis Half-Elven would marry his lady, set her up in a cozy cottage, and live happily ever after." Tanis felt his face grow red; it was embarrassingly close to what he had been thinking. Caven roared and slapped the half-elf on the back. "Half-elf, this is real life, not a fairy tale! You couldn't contain Kitiara in anything less than a prison cell."
"Are you saying you're not the father?"
Caven stopped short on his way back to Maleficent. "I'm saying I'm the most obvious choice"—he preened—"but there's no way Captain Kitiara could prove it."
A huge branch suddenly fell out of the sky, narrowly missing them. Both men leaped back with oaths and looked up, swords drawn. Xanthar was poised in the act of sending a second broken branch after the first.
You disgust me. Each man wants the credit, but not the blame.
"I would marry her," Tanis said mulishly, with a glare at Caven, who rolled his eyes and sheathed his sword.
That's laudable, half-elf. Perhaps you might consider asking Kitiara—if the opportunity arises, that is. But first, don't the two of you overgrown bullbears think we should rescue her from the ettin ? It's either that or lose her—and Lida—in the recesses of the sla-mori.
"The sla-mori?" Tanis asked. "Then you know where the ettin's taking them?"
I can guess.
"Now, wait a minute," Caven said. "What's a sla-mori?"
"A sla-mori is a secret passage—a magical way of getting from one place to another," Tanis explained.
When Caven still looked perplexed, the owl took over. There is a rumor of a sla-mori somewhere in Darken Wood, although rumor places it in several locations. One of them is not too far from here, in the valley near Fever Mountain. This one, some say, will take its user far to the south—perhaps all the way to the Icereach, although some say the sla-mori's destination is elsewhere.
"Rumor?" Caven asked weakly. "We're plunging deeper into Darken Wood on the strength of a rumor?"
"Following advice given us in a dream," Tanis added. A half-smile lit his face, then vanished.
The owl pressed on. The sla-mori is the most logical solution. The ettin mentioned that Fever Mountain is near the sla-mori—or at least where it's rumored to be.
"Wait," Caven interjected again. He was livid; the only sign of color in his face was a scarlet streak high on each cheekbone, framed by his black hair and beard. "You knew all along that the ettin wanted to capture Kitiara? If you'd shared the information with us, Wode might be alive now!"
Xanthar had the grace to look ashamed, but he hid the expression by whetting his beak against a branch. I didn't know the real danger. I believed he'd take the swordswoman and the rest of you, but I didn't think any harm would befall anyone.
"But you were willing to let us take the risk!" Tanis cried.
Xanthar glowered down at them. We're on the same side now, half-elf. You have no choice but to trust me on the subject. And I'm not saying any more. The owl took off with a screech.
Caven and Tanis looked confusedly at each other, at the giant owl soaring above, and at Maleficent, foraging under a nearby bush.
"Well, half-elf?" Caven asked. "What do we do now?"
Tanis frowned. "Whatever the owl has been plotting, the fact remains that the ettin has Kitiara and the lady mage and intends to spirit them far away unless we stop them."
"And this is our problem, half-elf? Yours and mine?"
"Possibly. There's the lady mage's poem, after all.
'Lovers three, spell-cast maid.' It doesn't take the brightness of a will-o'-the-wisp to suspect that might refer to us."
"So what?" Caven muttered. "Who's paying us to get involved? Or are we supposed to risk our lives out of the goodness of our hearts?"
"It's worth keeping an open mind." Tanis glanced back in the direction from which they'd traveled. "The path has disappeared," he reminded Caven. "Unless you know Darken Wood well enough to guide us out, I'm guessing that going forward is our best choice."
Caven thought a moment, then shook his head as if he were in pain. "I've lost my nephew. I'm stuck looking for a woman who has double-crossed me at least once and who may—or may not—be carrying my child. To make matters worse, I'm traveling with a romantic half-elf who believes that only he could be the father. By the gods!"
The half-elf smiled. 'That's right," Tanis said, and started toward Maleficent with a look that said that he'd brook no nonsense from the stallion.
"Eh?" Caven dogged the half-elf's steps and caught up with him just as he reached for the black horse.
"You're stuck," Tanis said, mounting the stallion. He extended a hand to Caven Mackid, indicating that
