“Ogres,” he replied, swinging into the saddle. “Three of them. One walks with a limp.” He looked the knight in the eye. “The tracks were made yesterday.”
Shit, Ryan swore to himself. Remembering the other footprints being older, he asked, “Did we catch up to them?”
Loran shook his head. “None of the prints match the other set exactly. Given the unrest in the Tarron Mountains from the Dragon Cult’s activities, and those like Cirion trying to reach Castle Darlonon, and Olliana trying to stop them, the ogres have likely come down to the woods for sport and will not be returning soon.” He indicated the prints and remarked, “These travel parallel to the mountains, not toward them or even away like the ones yesterday.”
“So there’s a good chance these three are still around here?” Ryan noticed the other elves quietly checking their weapons.
Lorian didn’t answer, instead remarking, “We’re a few hours from the elven outpost where we’ll stay tonight. They can advise us on how things fare.”
That surprised the knight. “Would the ogres have easily gotten by the outpost to reach here? Wouldn’t the elves have stopped them?”
Lorian’s knowing green eyes met his before the elf moved on. Ryan frowned, aware of the elves repositioning themselves to surround and protect them. If the ogres had made it by the elves, what would they find ahead? He didn’t know how big a deal ogres were, but an elven guard station being overrun didn’t seem like a minor event. Curiosity about the number of elves there and its fortifications ate away at him. They only had twelve with them.
Toward late afternoon they stopped on the trail, having twice seen more ogre prints at least a day old and moving in various directions, as if they wandered in search of something to do. An encounter seemed inevitable. Morven made a trilling bird call twice and they waited for a reply from somewhere ahead, but nothing came. Again he made the sound only to be greeted with silence. The elf looked at Lorian and, receiving a curt nod, dismounted. As he started forward, Eric decided to follow. He half expected Lorian to tell him not to, but instead he received words of caution.
“With stealth, Andier,” Lorian advised quietly. “Learn from Morven, and be armed.”
Ryan shifted in his saddle, indecisive about going, too, or telling Eric to stay, and when Morven gave the rogue a look of encouragement and they moved off, he felt a pang of jealousy. They knew Eric could play his part far better than Ryan could his. If he tried to go, their reaction would likely be different. In a way, they didn’t trust him, or probably even Matt or Anna, to do their parts, but Eric seemed like the real thing. The idea of being a knight still appealed to Ryan despite the violence that came with it and he frowned at his hypocrisy. He couldn’t want the admiration, respect, and celebrity without the killing and maiming that would earn it, and if death led to such esteem, how could he enjoy it anyway? And yet some desire for it remained, likely from his days at RenFest, which was fake, unlike this.
He looked down at the beautiful golden armor that made him feel so cool, even proud, every time he saw it. It wouldn’t look so nice with someone’s blood all over it, especially his, but that reminded him of its purpose, to keep his blood from being shed. That in turn reminded him what this was about – protecting people. This was the real reason knights received those accolades he apparently wanted. Maybe he should stop trying to be so noble and just accept that he wanted to be adulated. Was that so bad? Helping Daniel all these years had made him want to be a hero to his brother, despite his true nature: a coward. Perhaps he just had to find a way to help people without hurting someone else in the process. For now, he felt relieved to be out of it. Let Eric be Andier and find out what’s going on ahead. He’d be Korrin another day.
Up the dirt trail, Morven quietly led Eric, careful not to disturb fallen leaves or snap a twig. The rogue had broken into enough places as a youth to know the craft of stealth, though the consequences here would be far worse than a stint in juvenile detention on Earth. He felt ready but nervous, especially when Morven pointed out several large footprints amidst smaller ones he recognized as elven. The pair moved off the trail into the woods, paralleling the path the others were on and stopping to listen every twenty paces. The faint sounds from the horses behind them faded as they advanced, no sound ahead.
After a hundred yards, they slowed and crouched. Morven peered up into the trees, looking for something the rogue’s eyes couldn’t find. “The watch post above us is vacant,” he whispered, eyes searching the trees ahead, “and should not be. I see no sign of a body or struggle. Let us proceed.”
Worried, Eric asked, “Should we get the others?”
Morven considered before answering. “No. You will climb the watch tree for a view into the camp while I scout ahead to make sure you have time to come down if trouble arises.”
The rogue had mixed emotions about that and thought the elf ought to do that first. He’d be vulnerable up there. “What should I expect to see?”
“Into the camp, just beyond the tall hedge, with elves inside.”
Dubious, Eric looked for any signs of an outpost ahead and saw none amidst the trees and bushes. He’d never have suspected a fortified position lay there.
Handing him a pair of horn-rimmed glasses, the elf said, “Take these. They will increase your sight.”
Eric nodded and they crept to the watch tree, but as they neared Morven stopped him, sniffing the air. He slowly pulled a sword from its sheath.
“What
