Chapter 12 – Unrest in the Forest
The quest began in earnest the next morning as they departed Arundell in the company of Lorian, Morven, Rognir, and a dozen elves. They traveled light, with little more than grey, woolen bedrolls and long bows tied to battle-ready horses, the leather saddle packs easily carrying what little supplies they needed. The dirt trails offered few challenges, allowing them to ride side-by-side and talk idly, but everyone kept quiet. The apprehensive mood of the group made Ryan wonder if he’d cast a pall over them. His long face matched his melancholy heart, since he’d believed for days he wouldn’t be going and yet here he sat. Since he agreed with Lorian’s reasoning, there was no sense thinking about it, but it weighed on him anyway and he rode in resigned silence.
The quest wasn’t anything like stories made them seem. He realized all those fantasy role-playing games were true foolishness and that there was nothing romantic about this. It hadn’t seemed that way on arrival and when leaving Olliana amidst cheering crowds, but those people had no clue about death. Maybe it was always that way when people went to war. People who didn’t do the fighting often had romantic visions of it while those doing the killing and watching friends die were scarred for life.
The thought strengthened his resolve to escape unharmed, for he had no intention of watching his friends die or spending any more of his life mourning those close to him – whether his actions contributed to it or not. And maybe that was the heart of the matter. He would fight to save himself and his friends, and that was about all. Never mind the quest. It was only important because they couldn’t go home until it was done. He wasn’t a hero and didn’t want to be one now that he understood what it took.
Along the way, he decided to make sure they could find their way back if something happened to the elves or Rognir. When Lorian offered to teach him and Eric scouting tricks, he accepted, learning how to tell a footprint’s age and subtle signs of passage, whether it be crushed grass, overturned leaves, disturbed branches, or the more obvious overturned stones and broken limbs. Deer, elk, rabbit, and elven prints lay on every trail, but eventually they came upon a print they hadn’t seen before.
“What does that belong to?” Ryan asked, surprised by the print’s size. Longer and wider than his by half, the single set of tracks lay half in the grass and half out. Even he could tell the creator wore two mismatched boots.
Lorian’s eyes moved from one print to the next. “Nothing we have to worry about now,” the elf answered, rising. He made a gesture to the other elves, who cast wary glances about their path. “I hadn’t expected to see this so far from the mountains, but the marks are a week old.”
“Okay, but what is it?” the knight persisted as the elf remounted. So many fantasy creatures were coming to life on Honyn that the footprints’ size and spacing suggested names like giant, ogre, and troll. He wasn’t looking forward to meeting anything like that.
“Let us ride.” Lorian took the lead again and the others followed as the knight stood there frowning. It wasn’t like the elf to be tightlipped, and he and Eric exchanged a look.
Anna took the opportunity to reposition herself away from Rognir, who had pressured her to choose a god to call on when the time came. The dwarf was a priest and her three friends each wore a ring with three healing spells, so they’d be fine and not need her to pretend. She’d find a way to be helpful when the action started, stopping short of any violence. Despite the run of films and TV shows with women kicking butt, she didn’t have delusions of spinning kicks and the like. She’d leave that to Eric. Staying alert would be enough for now.
She pulled up beside Matt, who rode with his nose buried in a spell book. He’d long ago let the reins drop, prompting Morven to take them and lead the horse. The breadth of available spells amazed him into reading about all of them instead of focusing on a select few to learn. He’d expected restrictions on what he could learn, such as some spells reading like gibberish until he was powerful enough, but he understood all of it and began testing himself, reciting the words without looking at them, trying to get them right.
The first night, they’d camped in the elven forest, feeling vulnerable as darkness descended. They’d been attacked in a fortified, armed castle and in Lorian’s estate, so being in the open seemed absurd even with the elves standing guard. Ryan lay awake for a long time, ears straining for any weird sounds, of which there were plenty in the alien forest. Most he recognized as bird calls or night insects, and while the howl of a wolf sounded familiar, a deeper growl far off caught his ear. Two elves exchanged a look and the knight lay back heavily. It was going to be a long night. His only consolation was the belief, however uninformed, that whatever made those big footprints would make enough noise to give him some warning if it showed up here. He’d never slept in armor before but felt more comfortable in it despite it being uncomfortable.
As the second day passed, the forest-covered mountains loomed larger through the treetops, the ground rising and falling as they entered the foothills. Tomorrow would see them at the castle, meaning one last day before seeing a dragon in person. Ryan had to admit the idea still excited him if he ignored everything else, but toward noon that became impossible. The big footprints had reappeared. This time the guides’ unmistakable reaction prompted him to urge his horse up to Lorian.
“What is it?” Ryan asked. The elf rose
