breath on his skin.
“When are we making camp?”
She blushed, despite herself, at the obvious undertone of the question. She thought she had distanced herself beyond such foolish feelings, but apparently she hadn’t.
“We’re not stopping,” she decided, as she said it. “We’ll ride, at least until we cross the Everflow River into Wildermont.”
His expression showed his disappointment. His look touched her deep inside, and that scared her. She was supposed to be a sorceress of the dark. She was supposed to be cold and ruthless, like her marsh-witch mother had been; like her father was. But hadn’t her mother loved once? A wicked enough thought crossed her mind. Didn’t a cat love to taunt and tease the mouse, before devouring it? Gerard could be her mouse. She leaned in close to him then, and spoke in a conspiratorial whisper.
“We will be able to lodge at an inn when we reach Castlemont. We can have a private room all to ourselves.”
He smiled at the prospect of having her alone like that. He could only imagine the possibilities. It didn’t matter though. He could wait forever, as long as he knew she would be there when the wait was over.
“What’s it like?” he asked.
At first, she thought he was still being lascivious. Then she recalled that he was from the mountain clans and had never even seen a real town, much less the grandest city in the entire realm. He was asking about Castlemont, the capital city of the Kingdom of Wildermont. She smiled at him as she answered.
“We will be at the town known as High Crossing soon. That is where we will cross a river called the Everflow. The river separates the Leif Greyn Valley from Wildermont. High Crossing is more of a village than a town. As we pass through, imagine a place more than a thousand times as big, with buildings built on top of other buildings, and towers that reach all the way up into the sky, like the Spire.”
He asked about the people and their ways, and she answered him as best as she could. Money, it seemed, was what made one strong in the kingdom cities. He understood. It was just a larger, more permanent version of the Summer’s Day Festival. He couldn’t wait to get there and see it all for himself.
Night settled on them quickly. The sky was gray and cloudy, the early summer air thick and warm. The bridge that Shaella had spoken of seemed to come up out of nowhere. It was wide enough for two wagons to cross at the same time.
The roar of the dark river that churned swiftly under the span filled Gerard’s ears. The bridge was a lot longer than it had looked at first. It took a few minutes for the horses to trot all the way across it. The bridge didn’t cross the Leif Greyn. It spanned a smaller river that met the bigger flow there. Gerard could only imagine the skill and the time it had taken to build such a thing. It amazed him. Even in the dim light of the few lanterns that wavered at intervals along the span, he could see that the stonework was carefully crafted. The flowers and leaves carved into the retaining wall that lined each side of the bridge looked almost real, and the gargoyles that held the lantern poles seemed to snarl and growl as he passed them.
“Why are there none of these buildings on the other side of the river?” he asked as they entered the village of High Crossing.
“We just left the sacred valley,” she answered. “It’s still considered sacrilege to build or claim land there; but this side of the river belongs to King Jarrek. Welcome to Wildermont.”
Just then, a dozen or so armored horsemen emerged from the shadows. Gerard didn’t even hear the jingle of their tack as they moved to block their passage.
Light could be seen coming from a few of the windowed buildings that lined the road, but most of the structures were only hulking shapes in the darkness. A nervous looking man brandishing a torch strode out of the building nearest the end of the bridge and motioned for them to halt. Cole, who had been leading the group while Shaella rode with Gerard, turned and looked back at her sharply as he reined his horse in.
“A copper a man, or a silver for the lot of ye to pass,” the old toll man called out. The presence of the soldiers on the road lent confidence to his voice.
Shaella spurred her horse up to the old man.
“Here!” she snapped, as she flipped him a silver coin. “If King Jarrek is too poor to make change, then I’m the Queen of Westland,” she added with a chuckle.
Cole and Flick both gave her a warning look.
“We would have you come with us!” a commanding voice boomed at them. It was the Captain of the Redwolf Guard troop, who was now completely blocking their way.
From his place at the rear of their group, Gerard saw Greyber’s hand reach up over his shoulder to his sword’s hilt. He looked again at the men blocking the road. Bright polished plate armor and shiny chain mail reflected back at him in the torch light. Above the soldiers, a stalking wolf’s silhouette danced crazily in the wind on a fluttering crimson banner. Even the horses they rode were strapped with leather and steel. The idea that Graber would even think of drawing his blade against men such as these, made his stomach clench. What was about to happen here?
As beautiful as Shaella was, and as much as he wanted her, and as much as he wanted to be on this grand adventure, Gerard suddenly found that the only place he really wanted to be was home.
Chapter 19
Lord Gregory spent the whole of the day learning why the plant Vaegon prepared for him was called Squat Weed. He had to make for the bushes so many times throughout the day, that he was walking bow legged, and crying openly from the soreness. Worse than that, up in the northern reaches of the Leif Greyn Valley, there weren’t very many bushes. Modesty wasn’t an option, when the only features of the landscape were rock-strewn hills and shin high grass.
The people of the Skyler Clan pitied the Lion Lord. The Westlander had thrilled them with not one, but two great Brawls in the last few years. To see him in such a state was heart wrenching. They, without a doubt, respected him, and if Hyden thought to help the man, they wouldn’t intervene. But for reasons other than the fact that his frequent stops were slowing their progress, they decided to leave Hyden, Lord Lion and the elf to travel at their own pace.
“That Guard Captain was paying far too much attention to our friend,” Vaegon said. He and Hyden were walking side by side, leading Lord Gregory, who was slumped in his saddle.
“Why do you insist on talking about me as if I’m not even here?” Lord Gregory shot weakly. “It’s maddening.”
“The men of the kingdoms think in different ways than I do,” Hyden replied to Vaegon absently.
His attention was focused on Talon. The bird was trying to chase an insect that was darting through the air in short, zagging spurts. It seemed that the bug was mocking Talon. Talon couldn’t change direction as quickly as the insect could, nor could he stop and hover. He could barely fly, and the poor bird was growing frustrated. Finally, Talon gave up and flew off in a different direction, leaving the irritating bug seemingly forgotten.
“He will tell his superior officers that I’m alive and where we’re going,” Lord Gregory spoke again. “It isn’t wise to…wise to…Oh blast that fargin stuff you gave me, elf! Help me down again! Hurry now!”
Vaegon did so. He turned his back to the Lion Lord and watched Hyden watching Talon as Lord Gregory noisily handled his business.
Talon hadn’t lost interest in the bug after all. It had been a trick. Hyden was absorbed in the ordeal now. He could feel what Talon was feeling, but only in the back of his mind. Still, it was exciting to feel the bird’s eagerness to get his taunting prey.
Talon was higher up now, circling, watching and calculating. Suddenly, he dived, wings back, neck outstretched, eyes focused sharply. He was coming down fast and at a sharp angle. The insect buzzed along from place to place, lazily now, since it no longer felt the presence of the pesky and clumsy young bird. It had no idea that its doom was swiftly swooping in from above. Talon adjusted his little wings a bit, and then thrust out his claws. In one fleeting movement, he came out of the sky, and snatched the insect. It hadn’t had a chance. The bug was crushed in the bird’s grip instantly. A few moments later, after munching his prize, and swallowing it down,
