Finally Anna found words to stop him from going any further. “Ryan, just wait a minute,” she started gently. “I understand your hope but you’re getting way ahead of yourself.”
“No I’m not!”
“Yes you are, and you’re putting way too much pressure on me.”
That pierced his excitement some, but not much. “Okay, that’s true, and I’m sorry, but you have to promise to try for me. For Daniel. Will you? Please? I know it’s against your beliefs and everything and I’m sorry for that, but we have a different reality here and I would be sooo grateful if you would just give it a chance to see what can happen.”
He stared into her eyes, dimly aware of them darting away from his and back, like a trapped deer. He opened his mouth to say more when she finally spoke.
“Okay, okay,” she said gently, “just stop. I’ll look into it. I already have. Just stop, okay?”
He was about to try to convince her more but then thought better of it. “You promise? Please?”
“Yes, I promise,” she said, looking around hastily. “To look into it, not to succeed.”
“Okay. Okay, that’s fair. But you have to have faith, Anna, or nothing happens. Please open yourself to it.”
She said nothing more, turning to the ladder as if to escape, and he wondered if he’d gone too far. Probably. For the first time since they’d left Stonehenge, he felt calm, and with a renewed purpose. Now he regretted any time avoiding learning things that might benefit them, and ultimately, his brother, who was going to be amazed when Anna helped him. Ryan spent the rest of the night imagining it.
The night passed without incident from ogres or anything else and they left the outpost on horseback at dawn. As the day wore on, the foothills grew steeper, the trail narrowing to single file and the trees and underbrush growing denser. Anna kept her distance from Ryan, while Matt once again kept his nose buried in spell books. Morven and Eric rode ahead of the group, the latter in training for how to track and listen to the forest’s sounds. Even his sense of smell received instruction.
“Ogres have a certain scent,” advised the elf, long brown hair tightly braided. “You no doubt recall it from last night, though it was mixed with the smell of death.”
“Yes, I remember,” the rogue wryly admitted.
Toward noon they stopped in a small clearing for lunch consisting of elven bread smothered in fruit jam, downed with spring water that invigorated them more than Ryan would have expected. It tasted like sweet water. Both he and Matt had passed on breakfast due to nerves and nausea but both were able to eat this time.
Ryan hadn’t stopped thinking about Anna healing Daniel since he’d thought of it. He felt renewed purpose and was chafing for something to get her motivated. He knew she liked his brother and would be happy to heal him once able. The trick was getting her to see that they lived in a new reality now and that she had to change her perspective. He wanted to talk to her more, but every time their eyes met, he saw her looking like she wanted to avoid him. A pang of regret filled him. Wouldn’t it be ironic if his pressure became the reason she refused to open herself up to the gods of this world or of Earth? He wanted to laugh. Or cry. For now, he decided to bite his tongue, sitting over by Matt and studiously avoiding any hope-filled gazes at the medical student.
Ahead on the trail, a sharp shout preceded a hoarse bellow. Several thuds boomed ominously before a crack of stone striking stone and a scream split the air. Everyone rose and reached for weapons as Lorian issued commands, pointing up the trail where two elves ran with bows drawn. Rognir came to stand beside the champions, gesturing for Ryan to get out his sword. The dwarf’s axe gleamed before them, its obvious wear and tear adding realism to their dread.
“What is it?” Anna asked, moving toward her horse. Ryan thought she looked ready to mount and go. The idea sounded better the second someone answered her.
“Ogres,” replied Matt, able to understand elven thanks to Lorian’s spell.
“Indeed.” Rognir brandished his axe, taking warm up swings. “Battle is upon us. I suggest you remain behind me.”
“No argument there,” muttered Matt as angry sounds reached them.
He wiped both hands on his robe and Ryan suspected the wizard’s palms were sweaty, like his. Ryan mentally reviewed what Lorian taught him about not hurting anyone much, though that now seemed less important than protecting himself. The assassin attack had happened so fast he never had time to think about it, but this time the waiting was awful and he eyed the horses. He would not be the first to run, but if someone else went for it, he was all in.
Suddenly a low rumbling began as the ogres charged around the bend, two elves retreating ahead of them. Morven and others stood at the trailhead with arrows nocked, and when the ogres came into view, he called out in elven. The elves let fly, all at the lead ogre, six arrows striking it in the head, neck, and chest. It tumbled in a heap, its huge, spiked club rolling ahead of it. Two other ogres tripped over it, slowing the pack and giving the elves time for one more volley. None of the remaining six or seven ogres fell.
Rognir moved a few steps ahead of the champions as if to bar the way to them and Ryan reluctantly joined him. An arrow soared overhead toward the ogres from behind the champions, via the other elf watching their rear. As the attackers reached the clearing, a
