The White Arrow

by P. H. Solomon

  "We should be on our way, then. We'll need to move that camp before nightfall, and I saw a few likely places if there's no bears or trolls in them." Makwi propped his ax handle on his shoulder, the curved head shining in the dull light. He headed away without further words.

  Tordug offered his hand to Magdronu-as-Gweld. "We'll look for you in the evening, then. Be safe." He turned Danilla toward the climb to the notch in the slope-rim farther up the trail on which they'd arrived and followed Makwi.

  Magdronu-as-Gweld watched the dwarves and the woman as they climbed away. 'Paugren!' He sent the magical call for his other trusted wizard. He waved to the others, trotted away north, and watched for signs of Athson's passage. He crossed over the craggy heights that bordered the northern edge of the Funnel along another trail. He'd gather information about Athson and consider all the events while he waited for Paugren's response. And there was the shrine in the Drelkhaz to be inspected.

  The trail twisted among the windswept hills toward the darkening sky. The wind rose as Magdronu-as-Gweld descended into a ravine between natural walls of worn rock. He arrived at a patch of soft sand deposited by long years of weather. He knelt by a boot-print. Definitely left by Athson. He stood and climbed north out of the ravine onto a rolling flat-top of rock that lay between higher hills of stone dressed in thickets. He halted and turned in a circle. No one had followed him. Good. He climbed a slope, leapt off it, and changed into his dragon form.

  Wind snapped his wings like sails, and Magdronu rode the currents northeast and passed over the gorge of the Long River, flying low over the eastern heaths. He banked into the northerly wind and rose toward the heights of the Drelkhaz Mountains. The swift winds on high carried him farther in moments than his elven form could travel in a day, and Magdronu soon rose toward the familiar summit of his hallowed shrine, where he landed in the heat of fire in his anger. Lost! All his hostages and plans foiled!

  'Paugren!'

  Magdronu paced the flat rock, which lay empty of fresh sacrifices. He sniffed the broad, flat shelf of rock and roared fire into the wind. His shrine lay devoid of magic since that encounter. That was the purpose, then. Breaking his shrine and weakening the transfer of magic to his followers. They would need weeks to repair this one or create another with spells. Magdronu crouched and—

  'Master, I've come.' Paugren's reply danced along the magic spell with weakness, anger, and worry.

  'Is Corgren with you?' He sent the heat of his wrath along the spell and felt Paugren bend to his will.

  'Master, he arrived barely alive with the Bane hours ago. I've barely enough magic to keep him alive.'

  'Never mind his foolish life. Does he have the Bow of Hart?'

  'No, he arrived—'

  Magdronu roared and spewed flame among the charred bones of former sacrifices that lay about the shrine. Paugren's mind quivered along the communication spell when Magdronu calmed himself with slow snorts. 'I'm done with you and your brother's failures. We've lost every hostage and all the leverage on Athson. He escaped with the bow, then. Corgren failed to be vigilant and let that prisoner nearly kill him. And this shrine is empty of sacrifices and magic. What else have you to report?'

  'Great lord, all our efforts are broken. Dwarves caused an avalanche across the approaching road after they escaped their village. The way is blocked. What shall we do if the shrine is broken and blocked? How shall I save Corgren?'

  Magdronu snorted. If that one died, then it served as punishment. But he needed his servants supplied with magic. A growl rose in his chest. 'He suffers, no doubt. Let him suffer until magic is restored, then heal him.'

  Paugren replied after hesitation. 'Master, there is more news. It has been cloudy for weeks on this side of the mountains. Last night, the sky was clear, and I have seen a wandering star that has appeared at some point over these past weeks. I believe it will cross west over the Drelkhaz soon.'

  Magdronu crouched and peered north along the mountaintops of the Drelkhaz Mountains. 'Will it be north or south of this shrine?'

  'North of it.'

  'This changes my plans.' Magdronu's anger cooled. The sign of the arrow prepared. But where and when would it appear? How long did he have to intercept Athson? 'Send one of the Beleesh sisters to the capital. She's to use what magic is available to travel with a spell. She is to round up any criminal, beggar, or other useless persons for sacrifice at the shrine there. With the flow of magic restored, you'll have your magic renewed from me. But we'll need a new shrine elsewhere. For now, do as I wish, and we'll plan from there. The arrow comes soon, and I'll have it and the bow as payment for my long suffering in this form. We shall meet soon.'

  He ended the spell and launched into the air. He needed what blood he could get now. He found a herd of mountain goats along a nearby cliff and roasted them with flame before he landed among the carcasses to feed. A distant shrine required more of his time for the most magic. But sacrifices alone at the distant shrine would provide some magical transference to his servants. That at least was needed now to heal Corgren to handle his trolls.

  He belched fire and fed. This first. Then he’d return to the others with an appropriate meal for them to round out his disguise so he could search for Athson, and overcome his losses again. There were his plans for Auguron and the dormant ones laid there for contingency. Now he needed those plots activated to suit his needs when Corgren attacked. But his servants needed magic, and before Eloch's prophesied arrow arrived. Magdronu launched into the air and winged his way back to the Troll Heaths. He crossed over the entrance to the Troll Neath and inspected the camps where the trolls were staged for the invasion of Auguron. That, at least, was well done on Corgren's part.

  For now, he needed to find Athson and the bow, since the sign of the arrow had arrived.

  As the storm rolled over the heaths, Magdronu turned south and winged toward the place where he'd shifted from Gweld's form. Near there, he spotted three horses. Of course, Corgren's mounts lost from the Funnel and wandering. Greater haste was needed to find Athson, and these horses were useful. He descended and twisted his form to Magdronu-as-Gweld, approached the horses, and gathered them. He mounted one as the wind from the approaching storm increased. Now for a little hunting before he returned to his companions and his ruse.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  Voices drew Limbreth from sleep, and her eyes fluttered open. Hastra stood beside her and watched the others approaching, her book forgotten and lying on her pack. Limbreth rubbed her eyes and watched the others. Just Tordug and Danilla with Ralda trailing them from the upper ravine. Limbreth rolled out of her blanket and stood by the Withling. "The others must be up there." She squinted and shifted her position for better vantage past Ralda. Nobody there. Her stomach fluttered and yawned empty.

  Hastra's reply barely touched Limbreth's ears. "I see no one else."

  Tordug frowned, and by the tense mask on Danilla's face, they bore ill news. Sorrow. That emotion best fit Danilla's expression. The three of them climbed down closer.

  Limbreth crossed her bare feet and glanced at her boots. Were they dry yet? She might need them. But she waited for the others and dragged her blanket over her toes. A bit of undisturbed sleep had left her stronger than earlier. At least she’d had no dreams of the Bane. Limbreth let that dark memory fly.

  Tordug, Danilla, and Ralda approached, and the dwarf saluted them and motioned back along the ravine. "Makwi's searching out a new campsite. We need to move. Storm's coming."

  Hastra crossed and uncrossed her arms, then brushed her skirt with her hands. "Where are the others? With Makwi?"

  The dwarf shook his head and warmed his hands over the fire. "No. They aren't with us."

  Limbreth unclenched her jaw. She didn't realize she'd done that. "They are hunting?"

  Danilla wrung her hands as sudden tears welled in her eyes and trickled along her cheeks. "Ath's dead." Her body shuddered with a sudden wail. Hastra stepped close and embraced her.

  Limbreth ste
pped closer to Athson's mother, lifted her hands, and then dropped them by her side. She turned to Tordug. "What happened? Where's Athson?"

  Hastra patted Danilla's back. "And the bow? What of it?"

  Tordug shook his head and raised his hands, palms up. "We don't know. We pieced together what might have happened. We found Ath under a hastily set stone cairn." The dwarf related the tale of the scene at the Funnel for several minutes while Ralda squatted at the fire. When the Chokkran lord completed the tale, he added, "So Gweld's out scouting for Athson's trail, but I fear snow will delay us and cover it for now." He gave Danilla a sympathetic pat on the back. "We'll find him yet. But we don't know anything about the bow, so we can assume he still has it."

  Hastra sighed. "Well, please gather some of our things, and we'll get moving." She turned her head to Limbreth. "Are you able to go now? The afternoon is getting on, and I suspect it's a good walk."

  "Yes, I must be, regardless." With arms crossed, Limbreth bit back angry words toward Hastra. She sighed her anger away and grabbed her boots, sat and pulled one on her foot. Dry or not, she needed them now. "I'm going to find Athson."

  Ralda stood and gathered his pack and several others. "Need go camp. Storm come."

  "Just stay with us. He's hours gone." Tordug glanced at Hastra. "Let's not argue again. We'll track him down after the storm. He'll have to take shelter too."

  Limbreth got the other boot on and stood. She stomped the boots into a comfortable position and reached for her sword straps. "But he's out there alone and thinks we're all dead." She pointed to Danilla. "He probably thinks he can find his mother."

  Hastra released Danilla. "Much as I want to find Athson, Tordug's correct. The storm will stop us, along with night. Please, help us move camp. We'll do what we can to find him when the storm has passed."

  They were right. Limbreth hated to admit it, but they were. She crossed her arms and stared at the water surging past the end of the ravine. The choice between bad and worse. "Fine, let's go find Makwi. Maybe Gweld will catch him, but I don't want to delay any longer than necessary."

  Danilla touched her arm. "Neither do I." She bent and handed Limbreth her blanket. "We'll talk while we go."

  "That—that would be good, I think." Limbreth busied herself with her things while the others gathered packs and put out the fire. She strapped her swords on her back. Good to have them again. She’d thought they were gone for good. Her friends were good to her. She paused. "Uh, just so you all know—thank you for coming for me, and for these." She touched a sword hilt, then sniffed, wiped a tear, and found a smile. "Thank you, Hastra, for your prayers, and you, Ralda, for your big hand." Best to get that out of the way now.

  "We come you." Ralda grinned. "We come you. You come us." His fingers flicked many words further. "We go far to here, far to end. You friend us."

  It was more than she'd ever heard out of the giant. "You're right, Ralda. We have far to go and we must stick together."

  "Besides, I spent too much time teaching you about dwarves, gell." Tordug hugged her. "Glad you made it back to us." He slapped her on the back like a warrior, then whispered in her ear. "You had us all worried, but me most."

  They shouldered their packs and climbed toward the high end of the ravine. Limbreth grunted. Her weariness lingered, but she trudged ahead. She'd see to her leathers later.

  Danilla walked beside Limbreth once they gained the trail. The older woman's face bore drawn lines. "Tell me of my husband and my son. How long have you known Athson?" She sniffed and her voice sounded hoarse. "I've missed them these past years. I was so close to finding my husband after all the years we were captives." She paused and slouched. "I wish I'd seen him just one last time, instead of this." Danilla mustered a smile. "But, there's Athson, isn't there?"

  Limbreth adjusted her pack straps. "Well." What to tell her about Athson? "We are close. I met him when we started this journey. In the cemetery." She related how they’d met, their pursuit of the Bane, and Hastra's recovered book. Limbreth let the tale of their long journey and adventures unroll on her tongue as they climbed the trail.

  Danilla halted when Limbreth related how she and Athson had fought trolls on the road near Marston's Station. "You fought them alone? You returned for him?"

  "Yes, and the others came for him too. We drove them away that night. It's—it was then the dwarves named me an ax-maid." Limbreth leaned closer to the other woman. "I thought they were crazy, talking about the death-grip and how they like to talk up my exploits. But that's just how they are, and it helped back in Ezhandun."

  "Now you’re skipping ahead. How did you get there from the eastern forest?"

  Limbreth brushed her hand along her braid. Her trinkets were still there. "That's a long tale, if there was any—"

  Danilla squinted at Limbreth's trinkets. "Those are interesting. Where did you get them?"

  "These were given to me by the dwarves. They are status-tokens in their society, and I wear them as someone honored among them." She felt her cheeks flush with heat in the cold evening wind.

  "For when you saved Athson?"

  Limbreth nodded.

  "I'd give you a bag of gold and more for that. Thank you." She hugged Limbreth abruptly and released her. "I can see why he's fond of you like the others say. But tell me of my husband in his last days."

  Limbreth swallowed hard, not sure where to start. "We were thrown together as hostages. He—he helped me when—when I was afraid. The Bane, you know. He had a plan to break his bonds. He must've been able to do it, from what Tordug said." She told Danilla of her fearful trip with Corgren and the Bane to the Funnel.

  As Limbreth finished her tale, they found Makwi. The dwarf champion waved to them from a ledge nestled above the western side of the trail. Danilla fought back sobs again at the end of Limbreth's story. They scrambled among loose stone and found footing farther up along a narrow lip that slanted toward the ledge.

  Makwi greeted them as they arrived and exchanged words in dwarvish with his father. "Greetings. I found this one high above the trail, with a defensive approach. Out of the wind, and I got a fire going. Snow may be bad."

  Tordug answered in the common tongue. "It is well. A warm enough end to a harsh day. Perhaps we'll take these hills and build shelters among them for travelers. But it beats sleeping in the snow, eh?" He slapped Makwi's shoulder. "What of Gweld?"

  They all turned into the high cave and clambered deeper in, where a fire of heather bows burned, the smoke gathering into a higher vault farther back. Limbreth peered into the darkness and imagined the endless depths of the Bane's cowl. She shivered and wrapped her arms around herself.

  Makwi brushed past her and offered a wink. "Don't worry, ax-maid, there's no bears in this cave."

  She shrugged her pack from her shoulders and forced a grin. "Good. I shouldn't like to wrestle with more than you for food or hear any snores louder than yours, champion."

  Makwi laughed. "Taught her too well, Tordug!"

  Tordug dropped his own pack. "Bah! Her wit is her own."

  "Settle in, and I'll stand watch for a while. Won't be long until that snow comes. You all took your time, but you made it." The dwarf wove his way over patches of dirt and gravel among slabs and outcrops of rock.

  Limbreth resisted a gaze into the dark recesses of the cave. Face the light and forget the Bane. She shivered anyway.

  They settled and warmed water for tea at the fire and ate what rations they bore. Snow soon fell on a swirl of wind that rose and fell. Limbreth ate some travel bread. "Sounds like the high Drelkhaz."

  Tordug sipped his tea. "Aye, it's a raucous song, but not the right notes and a different language here." He eyed Limbreth with a gleam in his eye.

  Limbreth grinned at the old dwarf-lord. "It's a woman's song, maybe a—" She almost said a dirge but stopped herself in front of Danilla. She cleared her throat. "Sounds a bit sad."

  "That it does." Tordug stared into his cup. "Storms have their own mood, betimes."
/>   Makwi trilled a whistle and motioned an alert to them all. Limbreth went with Ralda and Tordug while Danilla and Hastra stood waiting. The dwarf pointed into the driving snow as dusk settled along the trail below their refuge. "Someone's coming."

  "Gweld is due back. It's likely him. But that's three horses."

  Limbreth covered her mouth with her hand a moment. "Corgren had three. I suppose he didn't take them, and they wandered."

  Makwi strode along the ledge from the cave. "I'll check on him. Could be tough getting them in here. I didn't expect to house horses. But there's another cave nearby if we need to stable them elsewhere. Better than smelling dung if this storms settles in for a day or two." He motioned Ralda to follow, and the giant edged after the dwarf champion.

  Tordug crouched, and Limbreth followed his lead as they watched their companions. They approached the stranger with the horses, and Makwi waved the all's good signal. Tordug exhaled. "So I guess it is Gweld with Corgren's horses. Those will help us travel faster. If Athson still has the mule, we have a chance to catch him now."

  Limbreth stroked her braid. "Yes, if we can find his trail in all this snow. It's thick now and likely won't be gone soon. And we have little enough fodder for the horses." She stood and walked back into the cave to inform Danilla and Hastra they had horses now.

  The horses couldn't be brought up the narrow incline to their cave, so Makwi and Gweld stowed them in another nearby cave. They would all take turns guarding the horses, and that meant gathering extra fuel for a fire as the storm gained intensity.

  Several days followed as they huddled about their meager fires, guarded the horses, and waited out the storm. Limbreth shivered the days away but had time to repair the rent in her leather armor with trembling hands.

  The storm ceased on the fifth night as clouds rolled away southwest and revealed a waxing moon amid the vast star field overhead.