Khollo tucked it into a pocket. “Thanks. Now are we ready?”
“One last chance to reconsider?” Hern suggested hopefully.
Khollo turned Arle around and trotted out of the stables. “I thought not,” he heard Hern mutter.
The three young warriors trotted to the gate, where they found Rowert and three others on duty.
“Where are you off to?” Rowert asked, grinning up at them.
“Scouting mission,” Khollo replied shortly. “There’s something in the Fells we want to take a closer look at.”
Rowert’s smile faded. “Be careful, lads. This isn’t the safest place to be exploring right now.”
“I know,” Khollo replied.
As Rowert shouted for the others to open the gate, Sermas leaned over in the saddle. “If we were careful we wouldn’t be going,” he muttered to Khollo.
“Shut it,” Khollo growled. “You know we have to do this. Besides, I think that’s Ondus’ line.”
Sermas shrugged. “It was. I just stole it.”
Khollo shook his head and urged Arle through the now open gate. Beyond stretched the wide open flatlands, swept with snow and wind. Almost as soon as they were free of the fortress, Khollo increased the pace to a gallop. Hern and Sermas followed suit, and the three riders plowed southward, their horses kicking up great plumes of snow in their wake.
The excitement of the mission, of being off on their own adventure, quickly wore off. By noon, all three riders were grim and snappish. They rode for one-hour intervals, then ran beside the horses for a quarter of an hour. After that, it was back into the saddle to start the cycle again.
They fairly flew past Holwey village, passing to the east of it. The remains of the village were mostly buried under a fresh layer of snow. The one solid reminder of what had been was a cairn of stones, underneath which was the well, and the fallen. Khollo tore his eyes away from the scene and refocused on what lay ahead.
By nightfall, they had covered more distance than Khollo had dared hope. The horses were winded but not tired, though their riders were sore everywhere. There were many stifled groans around the campfire that night as each tried to relieve their cramped muscles.
The next day dawned bright and clear, with the promise of a little more warmth and sun to make the day’s ride more pleasant. Sure enough, by noon Khollo had shed his heavy cloak and donned a lighter one. The day continued to grow warmer, and some of the snow began to melt. The footing became uncertain as the ground became more and more slushy. By the end of the second day, all three riders were soaked from the waist down.
The third day saw the halfway point come and go. On the fourth, the weather turned cold again and the snow hardened once more. The three riders were too exhausted at this point to talk during the journey, and when they dismounted the only sound was the squeaking of their boots on the dry snow as they ran. The horses bore all of it without complaint, the running, the cold, and the snow.
On the fifth, they sighted the Fells early in the afternoon.
Khollo reined in and produced the map that Sermas had borrowed from Janis. He spread it over his saddle and examined it closely, picking out key landmarks. There should be a sharp valley between the flat mountain and the broken one. He looked up. Sure enough, the sharp valley was there, flanked by a mountain whose top appeared to have been sheared off by a blade and a mountain that looked as though it had been clobbered by a giant’s club.
“We made it,” Khollo announced, rolling up the map and packing it away. “The fortress is only a mile or so east of here, in the foothills. We’ll make camp for the night and go and investigate in the morning.”
“We’re not investigating in the night?” Sermas asked. “Won’t that make us pretty obvious?”
“No,” Khollo replied. “Remember, the vertaga see better in the night than during the day. We don’t. In the dark, we’d be at a disadvantage.”
“Point taken,” Sermas muttered. “Day attack it is, then.”
“You two don’t have to do this, you know,” Khollo said, turning in the saddle to face his two friends. “I could just ride to the fortress myself, start shooting and – ”
“No!"
Well, that was not unexpected, Khollo reflected.
“Khollo, you’re not going into an entire fortress of vertaga alone, we won’t let you,” Hern said.
“We’re not doing this entirely for you though,” Sermas put in. “If you died and we went back to the West Bank, Lord Kurkan would rip us limb from limb.”
“I’d rather die fighting,” Hern observed.
Khollo shrugged. “Have it your way. But, personally, I’m not planning on any of us dying.”
“Well, that would be a good outcome too,” Sermas agreed. “But the odds are not exactly in our favor.”
“Aren’t they?” Khollo asked. “We have surprise, speed, agility – ”
“Harebrained leadership,” Hern muttered.
“Less experience,” Sermas added.
“ – and we have my bow,” Khollo finished. “That will even the odds a bit.”
“If you say so,” Sermas said doubtfully. “But it will take a lot of ‘evening’ before it’s a fair fight.”
“We’ll pull it off,” Khollo said with more confidence than he was feeling. “You’ll see.”
Sermas and Hern nodded, but they didn’t look convinced. Khollo sighed and turned back to face the Fells.
“We’ll make camp in the foothills,” he decided. “We’ll be better hidden from prying eyes there.”
He urged Arle forward once more, towards the Fells. Hern and Sermas followed only a moment later.
Khollo had never been in the foothills of the Fells, or the Fells themselves for that matter. He had thought that the land would roll gently upwards, climbing ever higher to the lofty peaks. Not so in the Fells.
