Читать книгу Magician - Raymond E. Feist - Страница 18

A LIGHT WET SNOW WAS FALLING.

Pug shivered under his greatcloak, sitting astride his horse. He had been in the saddle for the last ten minutes, waiting as the rest of the Duke’s company made ready.

The courtyard filled with hurrying, shouting men, lashing supplies onto the balky mules of the baggage train. Dawn was just commencing, giving the courtyard a little color instead of the blacks and grey that had greeted Pug when he came from the tower. Porters had already carried his baggage down and were securing it among the other items being brought along.

A panicked ‘Whoa!’ erupted behind Pug, and he turned to see Tomas pulling frantically at the reins of a spirited bay, his head tossing high. Like Pug’s own sleek, light war-horse, he was a far cry from the old draft animal they had ridden to the site of the shipwreck. ‘Don’t pull so hard,’ Pug shouted. ‘You’ll saw at his mouth and make him mad. Pull back gently and release a couple of times.’

Tomas did, and the horse quieted down, moving alongside Pug’s own. Tomas sat as if the saddle had nails sticking through it. His face was a study in concentration as he tried to guess what the horse would do next.

‘If you hadn’t been walking post yesterday, you could have gone riding, getting in some practice. Now I’ll have to teach you as we go.’

Tomas looked thankful for the promise of aid. Pug smiled. ‘By the time we reach Bordon, you’ll be riding like the King’s Lancers.’

‘And walking like a ruptured spinster.’ Tomas shifted in the saddle. ‘Already I feel like I’ve been sitting on a stone block for hours. After just a little way from the saddling post.’

Pug jumped down from his horse and looked over Tomas’s saddle, making Tomas move his leg so he could examine under the saddle flap, then asked, ‘Who saddled this horse for you?’

‘Rulf. Why?’

‘I thought so. He’s paying you back for threatening him about that sword, or because we’re friends. He doesn’t dare threaten me anymore, now that I’m a Squire, but he thinks nothing of knotting your stirrup leathers. A couple of hours riding like this, and you’d be standing at meals for a month, if you didn’t get pitched on your head and killed. Here, get down and I’ll show you.’

Tomas dismounted, halfway between a leap and a fall. Pug showed him the knots. ‘They would have rubbed the inside of your thighs raw by the end of the day. And they’re not long enough.’ Pug took out the knots and adjusted the leathers to the proper length. ‘It’s going to feel very strange for a while, but you’ve got to keep your heels down. I’ll remind you until you’re sick of hearing it, but it’ll keep you out of trouble when you do it without thought. And don’t try to grip with your knees; that’s wrong, and it’ll make your legs so sore, you’ll hardly be able to walk by tomorrow.’ He went on with a few basic instructions and inspected the cinch, which was loose. He tried tightening it, and the horse sucked air. Pug struck the gelding a blow in the side, and the animal exhaled sharply. Pug quickly pulled the cinch strap and said, ‘Sometime today, you most likely would have found yourself listing to one side, a most discomforting position.’

‘That Rulf!’ Tomas turned toward the stable. ‘I’ll thrash him within an inch of death!’

Pug grabbed his friend’s arm. ‘Wait. We don’t have time for brawling.’

Tomas stood with fists clenched, then relaxed with a relieved sigh. ‘I’m in no condition for fighting, anyway.’ He turned to see Pug inspecting the horse.

Pug shook his head, then winced. ‘Me too.’ He finished inspecting the saddle and bridle, and the horse shied. Pug gentled the horse. ‘Rulf’s also given you a temperamental mount. This fellow would have probably thrown you before noon, and be halfway back to the stable before you hit the ground. With sore legs and shortened stirrup leathers, you never would have stood a chance. I’ll trade with you.’ Tomas looked relieved and struggled into the saddle of the other horse. Pug readjusted the stirrups for both riders. ‘We can swap our travel rolls when we take our noon meal.’ Pug then soothed the high-strung war-horse and climbed nimbly into the saddle. Feeling surer hands at the reins, and a firm leg on either side, the gelding quieted.

‘Ho! Martin,’ shouted Tomas as the Duke’s Huntmaster walked into view. ‘Are you traveling with us?’

A wry grin split the face of the hunter, who was wearing his heavy green cloak over his forester’s leathers. ‘For a short while, Tomas. I’m to lead some trackers around the boundaries of Crydee. I’ll be heading due eastward when we come to the south branch of the river. Two of my trackers were on their way an hour ago, breaking trail for the Duke.’

‘What do you think of this Tsurani business, Martin?’ Pug asked.

The still-youthful Huntmaster’s face clouded. ‘If elves are given to worry, there is something to worry over.’ He turned toward the front of the assembling line. ‘Excuse me, I must instruct my men.’ He left the boys sitting alone.

Pug asked Tomas, ‘How’s your head this morning?’

Tomas made a face. ‘About two sizes smaller than when I awoke.’ His face brightened a bit. ‘Still, the excitement seems to have stopped the banging inside. I feel almost good.’

Pug gazed at the keep. Memories of his encounter last night kept tugging at his mind, and suddenly he regretted the need to travel with the Duke.

Tomas noticed his friend’s pensive mood and said, ‘Why so glum? Aren’t you excited about going?’

‘It’s nothing. Just thinking.’

Tomas studied Pug for a moment. ‘I think I understand.’ With a deep sigh, he sat back in the saddle, and his horse stamped and nickered. ‘I, for one, am glad to be leaving. I think Neala has tumbled to that little matter we spoke of yesterday.’

Pug laughed. ‘That will teach you to be mindful of who you escort into pantries.’

Tomas smiled sheepishly.

The doors to the keep opened, and the Duke and Arutha came out, accompanied by Kulgan, Tully, Lyam, and Roland. Carline followed, with Lady Marna behind. The Duke and his companions made their way to the head of the column, but Carline hurried down to where Pug and Tomas sat. As she passed, guardsmen saluted her, but she paid them no heed. She reached Pug’s side, and when he bowed politely, she said, ‘Oh, get off that stupid horse.’

Pug climbed down, and Carline threw her arms around his neck, holding him closely for a moment. ‘Take care and stay well,’ she said. ‘Don’t let anything happen to you.’ She pulled away, then kissed him briefly. ‘And come home.’ Holding back tears, she hurried to the head of the line, where her father and brother waited to say good-bye.

Tomas let out a theatrical whoop and laughed, while Pug remounted; the soldiers nearby attempted to restrain their own amusement. ‘It seems the Princess has made plans for you, m’lord,’ Tomas gibed. He ducked as Pug stirred to give him a backhanded cuff. The motion caused his horse to start forward, and suddenly Tomas was fighting to bring his horse back into line. The horse seemed determined to go in any direction except the one Tomas wished; now it was Pug’s turn to laugh. He finally moved his own horse alongside Tomas’s and herded the fractious mare back into line. She flattened her ears and turned to nip at Pug’s horse, and the short boy said, ‘We both have accounts to settle with Rulf; he gave us two horses that don’t like each other, too. We’ll trade your mount off with one of the soldiers.’

With relief Tomas half dismounted, half fell to the ground, and Pug directed the exchange with a soldier down the line. The exchange was made, and as Tomas returned to his place, Roland came down to where they stood and offered them both his hand. ‘You two watch yourselves, now. There’s plenty of trouble waiting out there without your looking for it.’

They acknowledged they would, and Roland said to Pug, ‘I’ll keep an eye on things for you.’

Pug noticed his wry smile, glanced back to where Carline stood with her father, and said, ‘No doubt,’ then added, ‘Roland, whatever happens, good luck to you, too.’

Roland said, ‘Thank you. I’ll take that as it’s meant.’ To Tomas he said, ‘And things are certainly going to be dull without you around.’

Tomas said, ‘Given what’s going on, dull would be welcome.’

Roland said, ‘As long as it’s not too dull, right? Take good care! You’re a bothersome pair, but I’d hate to lose you.’

Tomas laughed as Roland walked off with a friendly wave. Watching the Squire go up to the Duke’s party, and seeing Carline standing next to her father, Pug turned to Tomas. ‘That decides it. I am glad to be going. I need a rest.’

Sergeant Gardan came riding back with orders to move the column, and they set off. The Duke and Arutha rode in the van, with Kulgan and Gardan behind. Martin Longbow and his trackers set off at a run beside the Duke’s horse. Twenty pair of mounted guards followed, with Tomas and Pug nestled between them and the baggage train at the rear with its five pair of guards. Slowly at first, then with increasing speed, they moved through the gates of the castle and down the south road.

They had been riding for three days, the last two through dense woodlands. Martin Longbow and his men had turned east that morning as they crossed the southern branch of the river Crydee, called river Boundary. It marked the border between Crydee and the Barony of Carse, one of Lord Borric’s vassal provinces.

The sudden snows of early winter had come and draped the autumn landscape in white. Many of the denizens of the forest had been caught unaware by the sudden winter, rabbits whose coats were still more brown than white, and ducks and geese who scampered across half-frozen ponds, resting as they migrated south. The snow fell in flurries of heavy wet flakes, melting slightly during the day, to refreeze at night, making a thin crust of ice. As the horses’ and mules’ hooves cracked through the ice, the crunching of leaves underneath could be heard in the still winter air.

In the afternoon Kulgan observed a flight of firedrakes circling in the distance, barely visible through the trees. The colorful beasts, red, gold, green, and blue in color, raced over the treetops and dipped out of sight, then reappeared as they spiraled upward, with cries and small bursts of flame. Kulgan reined in as the train passed and waited for Pug and Tomas to overtake him. When they were alongside, he pointed out the display, saying, ‘It has the appearance of a mating flight. See, the more aggressively the males act, the more responsive the females. Oh, I wish we had time to study this more closely.’

Pug followed the creatures with his eyes as they rode through a clearing, then, somewhat startled, said, ‘Kulgan, isn’t that Fantus there, hovering near the edge?’

Kulgan’s eyes widened. ‘By the gods! I think it is.’

Pug asked, ‘Shall I call him?’

The magician chuckled. ‘Given the attention he’s receiving from those females, I think it would do little good.’ They lost sight of the congregation of drakes as they rode after the Duke’s train. Kulgan said, ‘Unlike most creatures, drakes mate at first snow. The females will lay eggs in nests, then sleep the winter, warming them with their bodies. In the spring the young hatch and are cared for by their mothers. Fantus will most likely spend the next few days . . . ahem, fathering a clutch of young. Then he’ll be back at the keep, annoying Megar and the kitchen staff for the rest of the winter.’

Tomas and Pug laughed. Tomas’s father made a great show of considering the playful drake a plague from the gods visited upon his well-ordered kitchen, but on several occasions both boys had spied Megar lavishing some of the choicest dinner scraps upon the beast. In the fifteen months since Pug had become Kulgan’s apprentice, Fantus had become a winged, scaled house pet to most of the Duke’s staff, though a few, like the Princess, found Fantus’s dragonlike appearance disquieting.

They continued to move east by south, as quickly as the terrain would permit. The Duke was concerned about reaching the South Pass before the snows made it impassable, cutting them off from the east until spring. Kulgan’s weather sense had allowed they had a fair chance of making it before any big storms struck. Soon they came to the edge of the deepest part of the great southern forests, the Green Heart.

Deep within the glades, at prearranged locations, two troops of guards from the keep at Carse were waiting for them with fresh horses. Duke Borric had sent pigeons south with instructions for Baron Bellamy, who sent a reply the same way that horses would be waiting. The remounts and guards would be hurrying to the meeting places from the Jonril garrison, maintained by Bellamy and Tolburt of Tulan near the edge of the great forests. By changing mounts, the Duke would save three, perhaps four days of travel to Bordon. Longbow’s trackers had left clear blazes for the Duke to follow, and they were due to reach the first meeting place later that day.

Pug turned to Tomas. The taller boy was sitting his horse somewhat better, though he still flapped his arms like a chicken trying to fly when they were forced to a fast trot. Gardan came riding back down the line, to where the boys rode before the baggage guards. ‘Be wary,’ he shouted. ‘From here to the Grey Towers is the darkest part of the Green Heart. Even the elves pass through here quickly and in numbers.’ The sergeant of the Duke’s Guard turned his horse and galloped back to the head of the line.

They traveled the balance of the day, every eye searching the forest for signs of trouble. Tomas and Pug made light conversation, with Tomas remarking on the chance of a good fight. Both boys’ banter sounded hollow to the soldiers around them, who sat silent and vigilant. They reached the place of meeting just before sundown. It was a clearing of considerable size, with several tree stumps grown over with ground cover that peeked through the snow, showing that the trees had been harvested long ago.

The fresh horses stood in a picket, each tied to a long line, while six guards stood careful watch around them. When the Duke’s party had ridden up, they had weapons ready. They lowered their weapons when they saw the familiar banner of Crydee. These were men of Carse, who wore the scarlet tabard of Baron Bellamy quartered by a gold cross, a golden griffin rampant over their hearts. The shield of each man bore the same device.

The sergeant of the six guards saluted. ‘Well met, my lord.’

Borric acknowledged the salute. ‘The horses?’ he asked simply.

‘They are fit, lord, and restless from waiting. As are the men.’

Borric dismounted; another soldier of Carse took his horse’s reins.

‘Trouble?’

‘None, my lord, but this place is suited for other than honest men. All last night we stood watches by twos and felt the crawl of eyes upon us.’ The sergeant was a scarred veteran, who had fought goblins and bandits in his day. He was not the type to give in to flights of imagination, and the Duke acknowledged this. ‘Double the watch this night. You will escort the horses back to your garrison tomorrow. I would rather have them rested a day, but this is a poor place.’

Prince Arutha came forward. ‘I have also felt eyes upon us for the last few hours, Father.’

Borric turned to the sergeant. ‘It may be that we have been shadowed by a band of brigands, seeking to judge our mission. I will send two men back with you, for fifty men or forty-eight is of little difference, but eight is a far better number than six.’ If the sergeant felt any relief at this, he did not show it, simply saying, ‘I thank my lord.’

Borric dismissed the man and with Arutha walked toward the center of the camp, where a large fire was burning. The soldiers were erecting rude shelters against the night wind, as they had each night of the journey. Borric saw two mules with the horses and noted that bales of hay had been brought along. Arutha followed his gaze. ‘Bellamy is a prudent man; he serves Your Grace well.’

Kulgan, Gardan, and the boys approached the two nobles, who stood warming themselves before the fire. Darkness was descending quickly; even at noon there was little light in the snow-shrouded forest. Borric looked around and shivered from more than the cold. ‘This is an ill-omened place. We will do well to be away as soon as possible.’

They ate a quick meal and turned in. Pug and Tomas lay close, starting at every strange sound until fatigue lulled them to sleep.

The Duke’s company passed deep into the forest, through glades so thick that often the trackers had had to change their course, doubling back to find another way for the horses, marking the trail as they went. Much of this forest was dark and twisted, with choking underbrush that impeded travel.

Pug said to Tomas, ‘I doubt the sun ever shines here.’ He spoke in soft tones. Tomas slowly nodded, his eyes watching the trees. Since leaving the men from Carse three days ago, they had felt more tension each passing day. The noises of the forest had lessened as they moved deeper into the trees, until they now rode in silence. It was as if the animals and birds themselves shunned this part of the forest. Pug knew it was only because there were few animals that hadn’t migrated south or gone into hibernation, but that knowledge didn’t lessen his and Tomas’s dread.

Tomas slowed down. ‘I feel something terrible is about to happen.’

Pug said, ‘You’ve been saying that for two days now.’ After a minute he added, ‘I hope we don’t have to fight. I don’t know how to use this sword, in spite of what you’ve tried to show me.’

‘Here,’ said Tomas, holding something out. Pug took it and found a small pouch inside of which was a collection of small, smooth rocks and a sling. ‘I thought you might feel better with a sling. I brought one, too.’

They rode for another hour, then stopped to rest the horses and eat a cold meal. It was midmorning, and Gardan inspected each horse, ensuring it was fit. No soldier was given a chance to overlook the slightest possible injury or illness. Should a horse falter, its rider would have to double up with another, and those two would have to return as best they could, for the Duke could not wait for such a delay. This far from any safe haven, it was something no one wished to think about or discuss aloud.

They were due to meet the second detachment of horses at midafternoon. The breakneck pace of the first four days had given way to a careful walk, for to rush through the trees would be dangerous. At the rate they were progressing, they would be on time. Still, the Duke was chafing at the slow pace.

On and on they rode, at times having to stop while guards drew swords and cut at the brush before them, their sword blows echoing through the stillness of the forest as they followed the narrow path left by the trackers.

Pug was lost in thoughts of Carline when, later, a shout erupted from the front of the column, out of sight of the boys. Suddenly the horsemen near Pug and Tomas were charging forward, oblivious to the thicket around them, dodging low-hanging branches by instinct.

Pug and Tomas spurred their horses after the others, and soon their senses recorded a blur of brown and white, as snow-spotted trees seemed to fly past. They stayed low, close to the necks of their mounts, avoiding most tree branches, while they struggled to stay aboard. Pug looked over his shoulder and saw Tomas falling behind. Branches and twigs caught at Pug’s cloak as he crashed through the forest into a clearing. The sounds of battle assaulted his ears, and the boy saw fighting in progress. The remount horses were trying to pull up their stakes, while fighting exploded around them. Pug could only vaguely make out the form of combatants, dark shrouded shapes slashing upward with swords at the horsemen.

A figure broke away and came running toward him, avoiding the blow of a guard a few yards ahead of Pug. The strange warrior grinned wickedly at Pug, seeing only the boy before him. Raising his sword for a blow, the fighter screamed and clawed at his face as blood ran between his fingers. Tomas had reined in behind Pug and with a yell let fly with another stone. ‘I thought you’d get yourself into trouble,’ he shouted. He spurred his horse forward and rode over the fallen figure. Pug sat rooted for a moment, then spurred his own horse. Pulling out his sling, he let fly at a couple of targets, but couldn’t be sure if the stones struck.

Suddenly Pug was in a place of calm in the fighting. On all sides he could see figures in dark grey cloaks and leather armor pouring out from the forest. They looked like elves, save their hair was darker, and they shouted in a language unpleasant to Pug’s ears. Arrows flew from the trees, emptying saddles of Crydee horsemen.

Lying about were bodies of both attackers and soldiers. Pug saw the lifeless bodies of a dozen men of Carse, as well as Longbow’s two lead trackers, tied to stakes in lifelike poses around the campfire. Scarlet bloodstains spotted the white snow beside them. The ruse had worked, for the Duke had ridden straight into the clearing, and now the trap was sprung.

Lord Borric’s voice rang out over the fray. ‘To me! To me! We are surrounded.’

Pug looked about for Tomas as he frantically kicked his mount toward the Duke and his gathering men. Arrows filled the air, and the screams of the dying echoed in the glade. Borric shouted, ‘This way!’ and the survivors followed him. They crashed into the forest, riding over attacking bowmen. Shouts followed them while they galloped away from the ambush, keeping low over the necks of their mounts, avoiding arrows and low-hanging branches.

Pug frantically pulled his horse aside, avoiding a large tree. He looked about, but could not see Tomas. Fixing his gaze upon the back of another horseman, Pug determined to concentrate on one thing only, not losing sight of the man’s back. Strange loud cries could be heard from behind, and other voices answered from one side. Pug’s mouth was dry and his hands sweating in the heavy gloves he wore.

They sped through the forest, shouts and cries echoing around them. Pug lost track of the distance covered, but he thought it surely a mile or more. Still the voices shouted in the forest, calling to others the course of the Duke’s flight.

Suddenly Pug was crashing through the thick underbrush, forcing his lathered, panting horse up a small but steep rise. All around him was a gloom of grey and greens, broken only by patches of white. Atop the rise the Duke waited, his sword drawn, as others pulled up around him. Arutha sat by his father, his face covered with perspiration in spite of the cold. Panting horses and exhausted guards gathered around. Pug was relieved to see Tomas beside Kulgan and Gardan.

When the last rider approached, Lord Borric said, ‘How many?’

Gardan surveyed the survivors and said, ‘We’ve lost eighteen men, have six wounded, and all the mules and baggage were taken.’

Borric nodded. ‘Rest the horses a moment. They’ll come.’

Arutha said, ‘Are we to stand, Father?’

Borric shook his head. ‘There are too many of them. At least a hundred struck the clearing.’ He spat. ‘We rode into that ambush like a rabbit into a snare.’ He glanced about. ‘We’ve lost nearly half our company.’

Pug asked a soldier sitting beside him, ‘Who were they?’

The soldier looked at Pug. ‘The Brotherhood of the Dark Path, Squire, may Ka-hooli visit every one of the bastards with piles,’ he answered, invoking the vengeance god. The soldier indicated a circle around them with his hand. ‘Small bands of them travel through the Green Heart, though they mostly live in the mountains east of here, and way up in the Northlands. That was more than I’d have bargained was around, curse the luck.’

Voices shouted from behind, and the Duke said, ‘They come. Ride!’

The survivors wheeled and rode off, again racing through the trees ahead of their pursuers. Time became suspended for Pug as he negotiated the dangerous course through the dense forest. Twice men nearby screamed, whether from striking branches or from arrows Pug didn’t know.

Again they came to a clearing, and the Duke signaled a halt. Gardan said, ‘Your grace, the horses can’t endure much more of this.’

Borric struck his saddle horn in frustration, his face dark with anger. ‘Damn them! And where are we?’

Pug looked about. He had no idea of where they stood in relationship to the original site of attack, and from the looks on the faces around him, no one else did either.

Arutha said, ‘We must strike eastward, Father, and make for the mountains.’

Borric nodded. ‘But which way lies east?’ The tall trees and overcast sky with its defused sunlight conspired to deny them any point of reference.

Kulgan said, ‘One moment, your grace,’ and closed his eyes. Again shouts of pursuit echoed through the trees, as Kulgan opened his eyes and pointed. ‘That way. There lies the east.’ Without question or comment, the Duke spurred his horse in the indicated direction, motioning for the others to follow. Pug felt a strong urge to be near someone familiar and tried to rejoin Tomas, but couldn’t make his way through the press of riders. He swallowed hard and admitted to himself he was badly scared. The grim faces of the nearby soldiers told him he was not alone in that feeling.

More time passed as they raced through the dark corridors of the Green Heart. Every advance along the escape route was accompanied by the echoing cries of Dark Brothers as they alerted others of the fugitives’ route. Occasionally Pug would spy a shape loping along in the distance, quickly lost in the darkness of the trees as it ran a parallel course. The accompanying runners did not seek to hinder them, but always they were near.

Once more the Duke ordered a halt. Turning to Gardan, he said, ‘Skirmishers! Find out how close they follow. We must have rest.’ Gardan indicated three men, who quickly leapt from their horses and ran back along the route of their retreat. A single clash of steel and a strangled cry heralded their encounter with the closest Dark Brother tracker.

‘Damn them!’ said the Duke. ‘They’re herding us in a circle, seeking to bring us back into their main strength. Already we’re moving more north than east.’

Pug took the opportunity to move next to Tomas. The horses were panting and shivering as perspiration steamed off them in the cold. Tomas managed a feeble smile, but said nothing.

Men moved quickly among the horses, checking for injury. In a few minutes the skirmishers returned at a run. Panting, one said, ‘Lord, they are close behind, fifty, sixty at least.’

‘How long?’

The man stood with perspiration pouring down his face as he answered, ‘Five minutes, my lord.’ With grim humor he said, ‘The two we killed will make them pause, but no more time than that.’

Borric said to the company, ‘We rest a moment, then we ride.’

Arutha said, ‘A moment or an hour, what does it matter? The horses are done. We should stand before more Brothers come to the call.’

Borric shook his head. ‘I must get through to Erland. He must know of the coming of the Tsurani.’

An arrow, quickly followed by a second, flew from the nearby trees, and another rider fell. Borric shouted, ‘Ride!’

They cantered the exhausted horses deeper into the woods, then slowed to a walk, while they kept watch for the coming attack. The Duke used hand signals to deploy the line of soldiers so they might swing to either flank and charge on command. Horses blew foam as their nostrils distended, and Pug knew they were close to dropping.

‘Why don’t they attack?’ whispered Tomas.

‘I don’t know,’ answered Pug. ‘They just harry us from the sides and behind.’

The Duke raised his hand and the column halted. No sounds of pursuit could be heard. He turned and spoke in a low tone. ‘They may have lost us. Pass the word to inspect your mounts—’ An arrow sped past his head, missing him by inches. ‘Forward!’ he shouted, and they began a ragged trot along the path they had been following.

Gardan shouted, ‘My lord, it seems they wish us to keep moving.’

In a harsh whisper Borric swore, then asked, ‘Kulgan, which way lies east?’

The magician closed his eyes again, and Pug knew he was tiring himself with this particular spell. Not difficult if one was standing calmly, it had to be fatiguing him under these conditions. Kulgan’s eyes opened and he pointed to the right. The column was heading northward.

Arutha said, ‘Again they slowly turn us, Father, back into their main strength.’

Raising his voice, Borric said, ‘Only fools or children would keep to this route. On my command, wheel to the right and charge.’ He waited as every man readied weapons and made silent prayers to their gods that the horses could withstand one more gallop. Then the Duke shouted, ‘Now!’ As a body, the column wheeled to the right, and riders spurred their flagging mounts. Arrows came pouring from the trees, and men and horses screamed.

Pug ducked under a branch, desperately holding on to the reins while he fumbled with sword and shield. He felt the shield slipping and, as he struggled with it, sensed his horse slowing. He couldn’t exercise the needed control over the animal and manage the weapons at the same time.

Pug reined in, risking a momentary stop to put his equipment right. A noise made him look to the right. Standing less than five yards away was a bowman of the Brotherhood of the Dark Path. Pug stayed rooted for a moment, as did the bowman. Pug was struck by his resemblance to the Elf Prince, Calin. There was little to distinguish the two races, nearly the same in height and build, save hair and eyes. The creature’s bowstring had snapped, and he stood with dark eyes fixed upon Pug while calmly setting about restringing his bow.

Pug’s astonishment at finding the Dark Brother standing so close to him momentarily caused him to forget the reason he had halted. He sat numbly watching the bowman repairing his weapon, entranced by the dark elf’s coolly efficient manner.

Then he was pulling an arrow from his quiver in a fluid motion and fitting the shaft to the bowstring. Sudden alarm made Pug act. His staggering horse answered his frantic kicks and was off again. He didn’t see the bowman’s arrow, but heard and felt it speed past his ear, then he was back to a gallop, the bowman lost behind as Pug overtook the Duke’s company.

Noise from ahead made Pug urge his horse on, though the poor animal was giving every indication it was moving as fast as possible. Pug wove through the forest, the gloom making it difficult to negotiate.

Abruptly he was behind a rider wearing the Duke’s colors and then passing the man as Pug’s horse proved fresher for carrying a lighter rider. The terrain became more hilly, and Pug wondered if they were entering the foothills of the Grey Towers.

A horse’s scream caused Pug to glance behind. He saw the soldier he had passed thrown as his mount collapsed, foaming blood spurting from the animal’s nose. Pug and another rider halted, and the soldier turned back, riding over to where the first man stood. He extended his hand to offer the fallen man a double ride. The fallen soldier just shook his head, as he struck the standing horse on the rump, sending it ahead again. Pug knew the second man’s horse could barely carry one rider, never two. The fallen rider pulled his sword and put down the injured horse, then turned to wait for the pursuing Dark Brothers. Pug found his eyes tearing as he contemplated the man’s courage. The other soldier shouted something over his shoulder that was lost to the boy, then suddenly he was riding by. He shouted, ‘Move, Squire!’

Pug put heels to the sides of his horse, and the animal picked up a staggering trot.

The fleeing column continued on its stumbling, exhausted flight, Pug moving up through the company of riders to a place near the Duke. After a few minutes Lord Borric signaled for them to slow. They entered another clearing. Borric surveyed his company. A look of helpless rage crossed his face, to be replaced by surprise. He held his hand aloft, and the riders stopped their milling about. Shouts sounded in the forest, but from some distance away.

Arutha, eyes wide with wonder, said, ‘Have we lost them?’

Slowly the Duke nodded, his attention focused on the distant shouts. ‘For the moment. When we broke through the archers, we must have slipped behind their pursuit. They’ll discover that fact shortly and double back. We have ten, fifteen minutes at best.’ He looked over his ragged company. ‘If only we could find a place to hide.’

Kulgan moved his staggering horse alongside the Duke. ‘My lord, I might have a solution, though it is risky and might prove fatal.’

Borric said, ‘No more fatal than waiting for them to come for us. What is your plan?’

‘I have an amulet, which can control weather. I had planned to save it against possible storms at sea, for its use is limited. I may be able to mask our whereabouts with it. Let every man gather his horse at the far end of the clearing, near that outcropping of rock. Have them silence the animals.’

Borric ordered it done, and the animals were moved to the opposite end of the clearing. Reassuring hands gentled exhausted and excited horses, quieting the mounts after their long flight.

They had gathered at the highest end of a narrow clearing, their backs to an outcropping of granite that rose overhead like a grey fist. On three sides the ground sloped away gently. Kulgan began to walk along the perimeter of the compact company.

He chanted in a low voice, waving the amulet in an intricate pattern. Slowly the grey afternoon light faded, and a mist began to gather around him. At first only light wisps appeared nearby, then other, more substantial patches of moisture formed, becoming light fog.

Soon the air between the Duke’s company and the tree line grew hazy. Kulgan moved more quickly and the fog deepened, filling the clearing with whiteness, moving outward from the magician into the trees on all sides. Within a few minutes it was impossible to see beyond a few yards.

On and on paced Kulgan, sending thicker blankets of haze to obscure the already grey light in the trees. The clearing slowly became darker as the gloomy fog deepened with every incantation made by the magician.

Then Kulgan stopped and turned to the Duke, whispering, ‘All must remain quiet. Should the dark elves wander blindly into the fog, the sloping terrain will, I hope, guide them past on one side or the other as they come around the rocks. But let no man move. Any sound will defeat us.’

Each man nodded, understanding the danger coming fast. They would stand in the center of this deep fog in the hope the Dark Brothers would walk past, putting the Duke and his men once more behind them. It was an all-or-nothing gambit, for should they win free, there was a good chance they would be far removed from this spot when the Brotherhood once more backtracked.

Pug looked at Tomas and whispered, ‘It’s a good thing it’s rocky here, else we’d leave some pretty tracks.’

Tomas nodded, too frightened to speak. A nearby guard motioned for Pug to be silent, and the young Squire nodded.

Gardan and several guards, with the Duke and Arutha, took up position near the front of the company, weapons ready should the ploy fail. Shouts grew louder as the Dark Brotherhood returned along their trail. Kulgan stood near the Duke, enchanting quietly, gathering more mist around him, then sending it forth. Pug knew the mist would be expanding rapidly, shrouding a continuously larger area as long as Kulgan continued to incant. Every extra minute would encompass more of the Green Heart in fog, making it increasingly more difficult for the attackers to find them.

Pug felt wetness on his cheek and looked up. Snow was beginning to fall. With apprehension he looked to the mist, to see if the newly arriving snow was affecting it. He watched a tense minute, then silently sighed with relief, for if anything, the snow was adding to the masking effects of the fog.

A soft footfall could be heard nearby. Pug froze, as did every man near him. A voice rang out in the Brotherhood’s strange language.

Pug felt an itch between his shoulders, but refused to move, fighting to ignore the nagging sensation on his back. He glanced sideways at Tomas. Tomas stood stock-still, his hand on his horse’s muzzle, looking like a statue in the haze. Like every other remaining horse, Tomas’s mount knew the hand upon his face was a command for quiet.

Another voice rang out in the mist, and Pug nearly jumped. It sounded as if the caller were standing directly in front of him. Again the answering call came, sounding farther away.

Gardan stood directly before Pug, who saw the sergeant’s back twitch. Gardan slowly knelt, silently laying his sword and shield on the ground. He rose up, still moving slowly, pulling his belt knife. Then suddenly he stepped into the mist, his movements as quick and fluid as a cat disappearing into the night. There was a faint sound, and Gardan reappeared.

Before him struggled the form of a Dark Brother, one of Gardan’s huge black hands clamped tightly over the creature’s mouth. The other arm was choking its throat. Pug could see the sergeant couldn’t risk letting go for the brief instant needed to plunge the knife in its back. Gardan gritted his teeth in pain as the creature raked the sergeant’s arm with clawlike nails. Its eyes bulged as it fought to breathe. Gardan stood rooted to the spot, holding the Dark Brother off the ground by main force as it struggled to get free. The creature’s face turned red, then purple, as Gardan choked the life from it. Blood from the creature’s raking nails flowed freely down Gardan’s arm; but the powerful soldier barely moved at all. Then the Dark Brother went limp, and Gardan gave it a final, throat-crushing jerk of his arm and let the creature slide silently to the ground.

Gardan’s eyes were wide with exertion, and he panted quietly as he regained his breath. Slowly he turned, knelt, and replaced his knife. Recovering his sword and shield, he stood, resuming his watch in the mist.

Pug felt nothing but awe and admiration for the sergeant, but like the others he could only silently watch. Time passed, and the voices grew more faint as they sounded their angry inquiries to one another, seeking the fugitives’ hiding place. The voices moved off, and then, like a long sigh of relief heaved by all in the clearing, it was silent. The Duke whispered, ‘They are past us. Lead the horses. We go east.’

Pug looked about in the gloom. Ahead, Duke Borric and Prince Arutha led the way. Gardan stayed beside Kulgan, who was still exhausted from his magical undertaking. Tomas walked silently beside his friend. Of the fifty guardsmen who had set out with the Duke from Crydee, thirteen remained. Only six horses had survived the day. As they had faltered, the others had been quickly put down by silent, tight-lipped riders.

They trudged upward, climbing higher into the foothills. The sun had set, but the Duke ordered them onward, fearful of the return of their pursuers. The men stepped cautiously forward, tentative in the rough terrain at night. The darkness was punctuated by softly uttered oaths as men lost their footing on the icy rocks time and again.

Pug plodded along, his body numb with fatigue and cold. The day had seemed an eternity, and he could not remember when he had last stopped or eaten. Once he had been handed a waterskin by a soldier, but the lone drink was a dim memory. He grabbed a handful of snow and put it in his mouth, but the melting iciness gave him little relief. The snow was falling more heavily, or at least it seemed so to Pug; he couldn’t see it fall, but it struck his face with more frequency and force. It was bitterly cold, and he shivered inside his cloak.

Like a booming call, the Duke’s whisper sounded in the murk. ‘Stop. I doubt they are wandering about in the dark. We’ll rest here.’

Arutha’s whisper could be heard from somewhere ahead: ‘The falling snow should cover our tracks by morning.’

Pug dropped to his knees and pulled his cloak about himself. Tomas’s voice sounded nearby. ‘Pug?’

Softly he answered, ‘Here.’

Tomas dropped heavily beside him. ‘I think . . . ,’ he said between panting breaths, ‘I’ll never . . . move again.’

Pug could only nod. The Duke’s voice came from a short distance away. ‘No fires.’

Gardan answered, ‘It’s a bitter night for a cold camp, Your Grace.’

Borric said, ‘Agreed, but if those sons of hell are nearby, a fire would bring them howling down upon us. Huddle together for warmth, so no one will freeze. Post guards and tell the others to sleep. When dawn breaks, I want to put as much distance between ourselves and them as possible.’ Pug felt bodies begin to press around him and didn’t mind the discomfort for the warmth. Soon he drifted off into a fitful doze, starting awake often during the night. Then suddenly it was dawn.

Three more horses died during the night, their frozen bodies lying uncovered in the snow. Pug came to his feet, feeling light-headed and stiff. He shivered uncontrollably as he stamped his feet, trying to stir some life into his chilled, aching body. Tomas stirred, then awoke with a start, looking to see what was occurring. He climbed awkwardly to his feet, then joined Pug in stamping feet and swinging arms. ‘I’ve never been so cold in my life,’ he said through chattering teeth.

Pug looked around. They were in a hollow between large outcroppings of granite, still bare and grey in patches, which rose up behind them thirty feet into the air, joining a ridge above. The ground sloped away along the path of their march, and Pug noticed the trees were thinner here. ‘Come along,’ he said to Tomas as he began to scramble up the rocks.

‘Damn!’ sounded from behind, and Pug and Tomas looked back to see Gardan kneeling over the still form of a guard. The sergeant looked at the Duke and said, ‘Died in the night, Your Grace.’ He shook his head as he added, ‘He took a wound and never spoke of it.’

Pug counted; besides himself, Tomas, Kulgan, the Duke, and his son, there were now just twelve soldiers. Tomas looked up at Pug, who had climbed ahead, and said, ‘Where are we going?’

Pug noticed he whispered. He inclined his head upward and said, ‘To see what’s over there.’

Tomas nodded, and they continued their climb. Stiff fingers protested against the need to grip hard rock, but soon Pug found himself warm again as exertion heated his body. He reached up and gripped the edge of the ridge above. He pulled himself up and over and waited for Tomas.

Tomas came over the ridge, panting for breath, looked past Pug, and said, ‘Oh, glory!’

Rising up majestically before them were the tall peaks of the Grey Towers. The sun rose behind, casting rose and golden highlights on the north faces of the mountains, while the western faces were still veiled in indigo darkness. The sky was clear, the snowfall over. Everywhere they looked, the scenery was draped in white.

Pug waved toward Gardan. The sergeant walked up to the base of the rocks, climbed a short way, and said, ‘What is it?’ Pug said, ‘The Grey Towers! No more than five miles away.’

Gardan waved for the boys to return, and they scrambled down, falling the last few feet to land with a thump. With their destination in sight, they felt revived. They came to where Gardan stood in conference with the Duke, Arutha, and Kulgan. Borric spoke softly, his words carrying clearly in the crisp morning air. ‘Take whatever is left on the dead animals and divide it among the men. Bring the remaining horses, but no one rides. No use covering the animals, for we’ll make broad tracks anyway.’

Gardan saluted and began circulating among the soldiers. They stood about in pairs or singly, eyes watching for signs of possible pursuit.

Borric said to Kulgan, ‘Have you an idea where the South Pass lies?’

‘I will try to use my magic sight, my lord.’ Kulgan concentrated, and Pug watched closely, for seeing with the mind’s eye was another of the feats that had eluded him in his studies. It was akin to using the crystal, but less pictorial, more an impression of where something was in relation to the spellcaster. After a few minutes of silence, Kulgan said, ‘I cannot tell, Sire. If I had been there before, then perhaps, but I get no impression of where the pass may lie.’

Borric nodded. ‘I wish Longbow were here. He knows the landmarks of the area.’ He turned to the east, as if seeing the Grey Towers through the intervening ridge. ‘One mountain looks much like another to me.’

Arutha said, ‘Father, to the north?’

Borric smiled a little at Arutha’s logic. ‘Yes. If the pass lies northward, we still might chance across it before it is impassable. Once across the mountains, the weather will prove milder in the east – at least that is the rule this time of year. We should be able to walk to Bordon. If we are already north of the pass, then we will eventually reach the dwarves. They will shelter us and perhaps know another route to the east.’ He inspected his exhausted company. ‘With three horses and snow melted for drinking water, we should last another week.’ He looked around, studying the sky. ‘If the weather holds.’

Kulgan said, ‘We should be free of bad weather in two, perhaps three days. Farther into the future I cannot judge.’ A distant shout echoed over the trees, from deep within the forest below. Instantly everyone was still. Borric looked to Gardan. ‘Sergeant, how far away do you judge them?’

Gardan listened. ‘It is hard to say, my lord. One mile, two, maybe more. Sound carries oddly in the forest, more so when it is this cold.’ Borric nodded. ‘Gather the men. We leave now.’

Pug’s fingertips bled through his torn gloves. At every opportunity during the day, the Duke had kept the men traveling over rock, to prevent Dark Brotherhood trackers from following. Every hour guards had been sent back to cut false trails over their own, pulling blankets taken from the dead horses behind, obscuring the tracks as best they could.

They stood at the edge of a clearing, a circle of bare rock surrounded on all sides by scattered pines and aspens. The trees had grown progressively thinner as they moved up into the mountains, staying on the rougher, higher terrain rather than risk being followed. Since dawn they had moved northeast, following a ridge of rugged hills toward the Grey Towers, but to Pug’s dismay the mountains seemed no closer.

The sun stood high overhead, but Pug felt little of its warmth, for a cold wind blew down from the heights of the Grey Towers. Pug heard Kulgan’s voice some distance behind. ‘As long as the wind is from the northeast, we’ll have no snow, as any moisture will have fallen on the peaks. Should the wind shift and come from the west, or northwest, from off the Endless Sea, we’ll have more snow.’

Pug panted as he scrambled along the rocks, balancing on the slippery surface. ‘Kulgan, must we have lessons, too?’

Several men laughed, and momentarily the grim tension of the last two days lessened. They reached a large flat, before another upward rise, and the Duke ordered a halt. ‘Build a fire and slaughter an animal. We’ll wait here for the last rear guard.’

Gardan quickly sent men to gather wood in the trees, and one was given two of the horses to lead away. The high-strung mounts were footsore, tired, and unfed, and in spite of their training, Gardan wanted them removed from the smell of blood.

The chosen horse screamed, then was suddenly silent, and when the fires were ready, the soldiers placed spits over the flames. Soon the aroma of roasting meat filled the air. In spite of his anticipated distaste, Pug found his mouth watering at the smell. In a while he was handed a stick, with a large piece of roasted liver on it, which he wolfed down. Nearby, Tomas was doing equal justice to a portion of sizzling haunch.

When they were done eating, the still-hot meat left over was wrapped with strips from horse blankets and torn tabards, then divided among the men.

Pug and Tomas sat by Kulgan as men broke camp, putting out fires, covering signs of passing, and readying for the resumption of the march.

Gardan came to the Duke. ‘My lord, the rear guard is overdue.’

Borric nodded. ‘I know. They should have returned a half hour ago.’ He peered down the hillside, toward the huge forest, mist shrouded in the distance. ‘We’ll wait five more minutes, then we will go.’

They waited in silence, but the guards didn’t return. Finally Gardan gave the order. ‘All right, lads. Off we go.’

The men formed up behind the Duke and Kulgan, and the boys fell in at the rear. Pug counted. There were only ten soldiers left.

Two days later the howling winds came, icy knives ripping at exposed flesh. Cloaks were gathered around each figure tramping slowly northward, leaning into the wind. Rags had been torn and tied around boots in a feeble attempt to hold off frostbite. Pug tried vainly to keep his eyelashes free of ice, but the harsh wind made his eyes tear, and the drops quickly froze, blurring his vision.

Pug heard Kulgan’s voice above the wind. ‘My lord, a storm comes. We must find shelter or perish.’ The Duke nodded and waved two men ahead to seek shelter. The two set off at a stumbling run, moving only slightly faster than the others, but valiantly putting their remaining meager strength into the task.

Clouds began to roll in from the northwest, and the skies darkened. ‘How much time, Kulgan?’ shouted the Duke over the shrieking wind.

The magician waved his hand above his head, as the wind blew his hair and beard back from his face, exposing his high forehead. ‘An hour at most.’ The Duke nodded again and exhorted his men to move along.

A sad sound, a neighing cry, pierced the wind, and a soldier called out that the last horse was down. Borric stopped and with a curse ordered it slaughtered as quickly as possible. Soldiers butchered the animal, steaming hunks of meat being cut away, to chill in the snow where they were cast before they could be wrapped. When they were done, the meat was divided among the men.

‘If we can find shelter, we will build a fire and cook the meat,’ the Duke shouted.

Silently Pug added that if they couldn’t find shelter, they’d have little use for the meat. They resumed their march.

A short time later the two guards returned with the news of a cave less than a quarter mile distant. The Duke ordered them to show the way.

Snow began to fall, whipped by the driving wind. The sky was now dark, limiting visibility to only a few hundred feet. Pug felt light-headed and had to struggle to pull his feet from the resisting snow. Both hands were numb, and he wondered if he was frostbitten.

Tomas looked slightly better, being somewhat hardier by nature, but he also was too exhausted to speak. He just plodded along beside his friend.

Suddenly Pug was lying face down in the snow feeling surprisingly warm and sleepy. Tomas knelt beside the fallen magician’s apprentice. He shook Pug, and the nearly unconscious boy groaned.

‘Get up,’ Tomas shouted. ‘It’s only a little way farther.’

Pug struggled upright, aided by Tomas and one of the soldiers. When he was standing, Tomas indicated to the soldier he could take care of his friend. The soldier nodded, but stayed near. Tomas loosened one of the many strips of blanket tied around him for warmth, knotted one end to Pug’s belt, and half guided, half pulled the smaller boy along.

The boys followed the guard who had helped them around an outcropping of rock and found themselves at the mouth of a cave. They staggered forward a few steps into the sheltering darkness, then fell to the stone floor. In contrast to the biting wind outside, the cave seemed warm, and they lapsed into an exhausted sleep.

Pug awoke to the smell of cooking horse meat. He roused himself and saw it was dark outside, beyond the fire. Piles of branches and deadwood were heaped nearby, and men were carefully feeding the fire. Others stood by, roasting pieces of meat. Pug flexed his fingers and found them painfully sore, but as he peeled off his tattered gloves, he saw no signs of frostbite. He nudged Tomas awake, and the other boy raised himself up on his elbows, blinking at the firelight.

Gardan stood on the other side of the fire, speaking with a guard. The Duke sat nearby, in quiet conversation with his son and Kulgan. Beyond Gardan and the guard, Pug could see only blackness. He couldn’t remember what time of day it had been when they found the cave, but he and Tomas must have slept for hours.

Kulgan saw them stirring and came over. ‘How do you feel?’ he asked, a look of concern on his face. The boys indicated they felt all right, considering the circumstances. Pug and Tomas doffed their boots at Kulgan’s orders, and he was pleased to report they had suffered no frostbite, though one of the soldiers, he said, hadn’t been as lucky.

‘How long were we asleep?’ asked Pug.

‘Throughout last night and all this day,’ said the magician with a sigh.

Then Pug noticed signs that a lot of work had been done. Besides the brush being cut, he and Tomas had been covered by some of the blankets. A pair of snared rabbits hung near the cave mouth with a row of freshly filled waterskins stacked near the fire. ‘You could have woken us,’ Pug said, a note of worry in his voice.

Kulgan shook his head. ‘The Duke wouldn’t have moved until the storm had passed, and that was only a few hours ago. In any event, you and Tomas weren’t the only tired ones here. I doubt even the hearty sergeant there could have gone more than another few miles with only one night’s rest. The Duke will see how things stand tomorrow. I expect we shall leave then, if the weather holds.’

Kulgan stood and, with a small gesture indicating the boys should return to sleep if possible, went to stand beside the Duke. Pug was surprised that, for someone who had slept the day around, he was again tired, though he thought he would fill his stomach before seeking more sleep. Tomas nodded at his unspoken question, and the two scooted over by the fire. One of the soldiers was busy cooking meat and handed them hot portions.

The boys wolfed down the food and after they were done sat back against one wall of the large cave. Pug started to speak to Tomas but was distracted when he caught sight of the guard by the cave’s mouth. A queer look passed over the man’s face as he stood talking to Sergeant Gardan, then his knees buckled. Gardan reached out to catch him, lowering him to the floor. The big sergeant’s eyes widened as he saw the arrow protruding from the man’s side.

Time seemed suspended for an instant, then Gardan shouted, ‘Attack!’

A howling cry sounded from outside the cave’s mouth, and a figure came bounding into the light, jumping over the low brush, then again bounding over the fire, knocking down the soldier cooking meat. It landed a short way from the boys and spun to face those it had leapt past. It was wrapped in a coat and trousers of animal furs. On one arm it bore a battle-scarred buckler-size shield, and in the other a curved sword was held high.

Pug stayed motionless as the creature regarded the company in the cave, a snarl on inhuman lips, eyes glowing with reflected firelight and fangs bared. Tomas’s training asserted itself, and the sword he had clung to over the long march was out of its scabbard in an instant. With a show the creature swung downward at Pug, who rolled sideways, avoiding the blow. The blade rang out as it struck the ground, and Tomas made an off-balance lunge, awkwardly taking the creature low in the chest. It fell to its knees and gurgled as blood filled its lungs, then fell forward.

Other attackers were leaping into the cave and were quickly engaged by the men from Crydee. Curses and oaths sounded, and swords rang out in the close confines of the cave. Guards and attackers stood face-to-face, unable to move more than a few feet. Several of the Duke’s men dropped swords and pulled daggers from their belts, better for close fighting.

Pug grabbed his sword and looked for an attacker, but found none. In the dancing light of the fire, he could see the attackers were outnumbered by the remaining guards, and as two or three men of Crydee grappled with each attacker, it was quickly down and killed.

Suddenly the cave was quiet, save for the heavy breathing of the soldiers. Pug looked and saw only one man down, the one who had taken the arrow. A few others sported light wounds. Kulgan hurried among the men, checking the wounds, then said to the Duke, ‘My lord, we have no other serious injuries.’

Pug looked at the dead creatures. Six of them lay sprawled upon the cave floor. They were smaller than men, but not by much. Above thick browridges, their sloping foreheads were topped by thick black hair. Their blue-green tinged skins were smooth, save for one who had something like a youth’s beard upon his cheeks. Their eyes, open in death, were huge and round, with black irises on yellow. All died with snarls upon their hideous faces, showing long teeth that came close to being fangs.

Pug crossed to Gardan, peering into the gloom of the night for signs of more of the creatures. ‘What are they, Sergeant?’

‘Goblins, Pug. Though I can’t fathom what they are doing this far from their normal range.’

The Duke came to stand next to him and said, ‘Only a half dozen, Gardan. I have never heard of goblins attacking armed men except when the advantage was theirs. This was suicide.’

‘My lord, look here,’ came Kulgan’s call, as he knelt over the body of a goblin. He had pulled away the dirty fur jacket worn by the creature and pointed to a poorly bandaged long, jagged wound on its chest. ‘This was not made by us. It is three, four days old and healing badly.’

Guards inspected the other bodies and reported three others also bore recent wounds, not caused by this fight. One had a broken arm and had fought without a shield.

Gardan said, ‘Sire, they wear no armor. Only the weapons in their hands.’ He pointed to a dead goblin with a bow slung over its back, and an empty quiver at its belt. ‘They had but the one arrow they used to wound Daniel.’

Arutha glanced at the carnage. ‘This was madness. Hopeless madness.’

Kulgan said, ‘Yes, Highness; madness. They were battle weary, freezing, and starved. The smell of cooking meat must have driven them mad. From their appearance I’d say they’ve not eaten in some time. They preferred to gamble all on one last, frantic assault than to watch us eat while they froze to death.’

Borric looked at the goblins again, then ordered his men to take the bodies outside the cave. To no one in particular, he said, ‘But who have they been fighting?’

Pug said, ‘The Brotherhood?’

Borric shook his head. ‘They are the Brotherhood’s creatures, or when not allied against us, they leave one another alone. No, it was someone else.’

Tomas looked around as he joined those by the entrance. He wasn’t as comfortable speaking to the Duke as Pug, but finally he said, ‘My lord, the dwarves?’

Borric nodded. ‘If there’s been a dwarven raid on a nearby goblin village, it would explain why they were unarmored and unprovisioned. They would have grabbed the nearest weapons and fought their way free, fleeing at first chance. Yes, perhaps it was the dwarves.’

The guards who had carried the bodies off into the snow ran back into the cave. ‘Your Grace,’ one of them said, ‘we hear movement in the trees.’

Borric turned to the others. ‘Get ready!’

Every man in the cave quickly readied his weapons. Soon all could hear the tread of feet crunching through the icy snow. It grew louder as they waited, getting closer. Pug stood tensely, holding his sword, pushing down a churning feeling inside.

Suddenly the sounds of footfalls stopped, as those outside halted. Then the sound of a single pair of boots could be heard coming closer. Appearing out of the dark came a figure directly toward the cave. Pug craned his neck to see past the soldiers, and the Duke said, ‘Who passes this night?’

A short figure, no more than five feet tall, pulled back the hood of his cloak, revealing a metal helm sitting over a shock of thick brown hair. Two sparkling green eyes reflected the firelight. Heavy brows of brown-red hair came together at a point above a large hooked nose. The figure stood regarding the party, then signaled behind. More figures appeared from out of the night, and Pug pressed forward to get a better view, Tomas at his side. At the rear they could see several of the arrivals leading mules.

The Duke and soldiers visibly relaxed, and Tomas said, ‘They’re dwarves!’

Several of the guards laughed, as did the closest dwarf. The dwarf fixed Tomas with a wry gaze, saying, ‘What were you expecting, boy? Some pretty dryad come to fetch you away?’

The lead dwarf walked into the firelight. He stopped before the Duke and said, ‘From your tabard, I see you to be men of Crydee.’ He struck himself upon the chest and said, formally, ‘I hight Dolgan, chief of village Caldara, and Warleader of the Grey Towers dwarven people.’ Pulling a pipe out of his cloak, from under a long beard that fell below his belt, he filled his pipe as he looked at the others in the cave. Then in less formal language he said, ‘Now, what in the name of the gods brings such a sorry-looking party of tall folk to this cold and forlorn place?’