time in his life, the scout wished lying came to him as easily as to humans. He closed the traell’s parka.
Olchak’s black eyes flashed in alarm. “What you doing?” he demanded. “Fix wound!”
Tavis shook his head. “There’s nothing I can do for you, my friend,” he said. “I’m sorry, but you’re going to die.”
The color drained from Olchak’s face. “No,” he said. “Hole not hurt that bad.”
“You’re still shocked. The pain will come in a little while,” Tavis answered. “I’m sorry.”
Olchak looked away. Deciding it would be best to allow the old man a few moments to consider his fate, the scout stood and gazed toward the craggy outcropping the traell had called Dragon Rock. A whistling wind was blowing down from the ridge they had descended earlier, whipping the snow into an opaque white curtain. Tavis could not see the faintest hint of the crag’s silhouette, or even of the first spruce copse through which they had passed. Trying to look across the meadow was like trying to stare through the inside of his own eyelids, save that he saw a white blur instead of a dark one.
Behind Tavis, Avner’s voice rang out above the whistling wind. “Whoa! Stop!” the boy yelled. “Stand-”
The sentence ended with a splash.
Tavis whirled around. Through the blowing snow he saw Graytusk’s hazy back lying parallel to the stream. Avner was in the churning current, clinging to the trunk rope to keep himself from being swept downstream. The mammoth rolled to his knees, dragging the youth onto the icy shore.
“Hold that line!” Tavis yelled, leaping into the stream. “Don’t let go!”
“Who c-c-can let g-go?” Avner chattered. “My hands are f-f-frozen sssstiff!”
The scout splashed across the stream in three quick strides, arriving at the shore as Graytusk began to rise. He leaped over Avner’s half-frozen form, then dodged past a tusk and grabbed the rope close to the slip knot. The mammoth stood, lifting the firbolg into the air. Tavis braced his feet against the side of the beast’s head and cinched the noose down so tightly that blood oozed up through the long fur. The creature huffed in pain and tried to shake the scout off, but only tightened the knot.
After struggling a few more moments, Graytusk abruptly began to tremble. With a great sigh of resignation, the mammoth sank to his knees, then curled the tip of his trunk back to gently pat Tavis on the head. After that, the beast remained motionless, save for his body’s uncontrollable quivering.
“I th-think he’s g-g-given up,” Avner said. The youth was standing a pace behind Tavis, still holding the end of the rope.
The scout looked into Graytusk’s dark eye. When the mammoth lowered his gaze and looked away, Tavis stepped into the snow. He tied the slip knot in place and stepped away.
The mammoth continued to tremble and look at the ground.
“That’s right,” Tavis said. “If you want that knot loosened, you have to wait for me.”
When Graytusk did not move, the scout felt secure in attending to Avner. After being dumped in the stream, the youth’s clothes were thoroughly soaked. More importantly, his skin felt as cold as ice, and he was shivering uncontrollably.
Tavis pulled the end of the rope from Avner’s frozen hands and let it fall to the ground. He stripped the boy’s icy clothes off and replaced them with his own cloak. The bitter wind instantly bit through the scout’s tunic and breeches, but he ignored the stinging pain. Firbolgs could endure frigid temperatures with little more than discomfort, but wet humans froze to death with distressing frequency.
Once he had Avner swaddled in his cloak, the firbolg carried the youth over to Graytusk’s leeward side and nestled him in the woolly hollow between the mammoth’s front leg and chest. Tavis was concerned about leaving the boy there alone, but he suspected he had finally won the war of wills with the beast, and Avner needed the warmth.
“I’ll go and find a good place to start a fire,” the scout said. “You stay close to Graytusk until I get back.”
“Wh-what about B-Brianna?” the youth asked. “If we-we m-m-miss the r-rendezvous, we’ll n-n-never f-find her.”
“You’ll have to stay behind,” Tavis said. He didn’t like the thought of leaving the youth half-frozen in a blizzard, but he had no choice. His duty to the queen demanded that he continue to search for Split Mountain, no matter what the cost to himself or others. “I’ll leave you with plenty of wood. Once you’re warm, you know enough to take care of yourself.”
“No!” Avner shouted. “I’m g-going w-with you.”
Tavis shook his head. “You could freeze.”
“I’ll f-follow anyway,” the youth warned. “I will.”
Tavis sighed, knowing he would not win this argument. Later, after the cold wore down the boy’s willpower, he would try again. “You can come,” the scout said. “But the instant you start to feel sleepy-”
“I’ll l-let you know,” Avner promised. “You j-just worry about f-finding Split M-Mountain.”
Tavis crossed the stream again-his feet were already beginning to grow numb from the cold-and struggled through the blizzard to Olchak’s side. The old man was covered head to foot beneath a fleecy white mound. As the scout brushed the snow away, he saw that the traell’s eyes had glassed over.
“Olchak, I need to ask you something.”
The old man grasped Tavis’s arm and pulled the scout’s ear close to his quivering lips. “Now it hurt.”
Tavis nodded. “I’m sorry,” he said. “But I need to know about the Dragon Rock.”
“Take Olchak home, Tavis,” Olchak pleaded. “ Traells got good shaman there.”
Tavis shook his head. “I can’t,” he said. “Even if you lived that long-which you wouldn’t-my duty is to the queen. I must find Split Mountain. Does Dragon Rock point toward it?”
“What good is queen to me?” asked the old man. “Take Olchak home before he die.”
“You’re going to die anyway,” Tavis answered. “Tell me about Dragon Rock.”
“Later.” The old man looked away and closed his eyes. “After shaman heals me.”
Tavis cursed Olchak for a coward, but slipped his arms under the old man and gently picked him up. He waded back across the stream, then removed the traell’s furry parka and folded it around Avner’s shoulders.
“You’re going to have to hold Olchak against your chest” As he spoke, the scout hoisted Avner onto Graytusk’s trembling back. “Are you strong enough to do that?”
“I th-think ssso,” Avner answered.
Tavis passed Olchak up to the youth. Avner pulled the old man close and closed the parka around them both. The scout cautiously slipped between the mammoth’s tusks and loosened the trunk noose, then climbed up the beast’s head. Graytusk’s body stopped quivering, but he kept his eyes averted and made no objection to the scout’s unusual method of mounting.
Once Tavis was securely seated, he gave the trunk rope a tug and Graytusk rose. With his eyes nearly pinched shut against the stinging barrage of snow, the scout guided their mount across the stream. The storm was blowing so ferociously that the firbolg could barely see the tip of the mammoth’s long trunk, and everything else-the sky, the ground, the horizon-was a white haze.
Tavis pointed the mammoth more or less in the direction Olchak had been looking before he was gored, and not long after a stony outcropping emerged from the white murk ahead. The bluff was only a little higher than the mammoth’s back. The scout circled the crag and soon understood why the traell had called it Dragon Rock. In the front was a long, serpentine protrusion similar to a dragon’s neck.
Tavis glanced over his shoulder. Olchak’s eyes were half-closed and unfocused. It seemed doubtful that the old man was even aware of where he was, but the scout saw no harm in asking for his help one more time.
“Olchak, we’ve reached the Dragon Rock,” Tavis said. “Does the head point toward Split Mountain?”
The old man raised his eyelids. “What-what will you sacrifice for queen, Tavis Burdun?” he gasped. “My life… your life… boy’s life, too?”
The scout did not need to ask to know what Olchak meant. Avner looked nearly as bad as the old man. The youth was shivering so hard that it appeared he would shake both himself and the traell off Graytusk’s back, and his lips had turned an alarming shade of blue. The boy desperately needed a fire and hot food, and soon.
Tavis shifted his gaze back to Olchak. “Does the head point toward Split Mountain?”
“Olchak… not die for queen,” the old man replied. “Duty, it mean nothing… to dead.”
“Y-You’re d-dying anyway,” Avner chattered. “T-Tavis c-can’t save you. At least l-let him s-save the w- woman he loves.”
