The White Arrow

by P. H. Solomon

  Strength returned to Corgren's arms, and he rubbed his cheek. "Generals are weak. We must be strong to the end if we are to see the age of our master arrive. His ways are not Eloch's. You know that. I gladly suffer for what is truly needed." He flashed a smile at his reference to the Withlings, an insult to their faith.

  "Of what use were spells to keep you alive but tortured?"

  "I'm alive—chastened, but alive. I know I must rise to challenges more, think more."

  Paugren sniffed and looked away. "I'll have food sent with fresh clothing. The dragon calls you to a meeting when your strength returns."

  Corgren's brother left the room, and his servant entered with food. The woman helped Corgren sit up in the bed and brought fresh clothing while he ate.

  "How long have I been here?" he asked her.

  The slave bowed. "Eight days, great wizard."

  "You may go." Corgren waved his hand dismissively. Eight days. What of his trolls gathered for the invasion? Magdronu still wanted that. He finished his meal, and with the weariness of a man returned from a long journey, he dressed. His ring flashed the dragon's summons. Best not delay. He knees barely supported him to the communication tent, but the cold slapped the coils of inactivity from his body.

  Within the tent, he called for fresh blood, and a lesser mage soon brought him a bowl of blood gathered from some slave. Corgren chose to stand, no matter the cost, and cast his spell, expecting the oppressive presence of his master in his mind. Magdronu's essence groped across Corgren's thoughts, but not with the weight of his anger. The dragon's visage, his scaled and horned head, filled the aperture of the green spell in Corgren's eyesight. Corgren felt the restrained emotion, though not directed at him. "Master, I answer your call. I offer my apologies for my failure to gain the Bow of Hart."

  'All is forgiven, my faithful one. You alone among my servants will take wounds for my cause. It is now clear to me that Eloch has worked for long years through this hidden Withling." Magdronu paused, and Corgren sensed cold anger. 'With the Bow of Hart in Athson's hands, Eloch's sign of the arrow to come has arisen in the sky. I'll watch for that, but I need you to command the trolls on their march. You are needed to direct the new shrine. You know my plans, long hidden, and they are to be activated soon. But first, there are many plans to set in motion. We lost one chance at the bow. Now we must strike according to my longer designs, and we shall gain all in victory. We have limits to magic, but we can still do much with what we have. You will command the others according to my wishes. Listen closely...'

  Corgren knelt and listened, a smile spreading on his face as his master revealed his schemes.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  When they had prepared their departure, Tordug drew Makwi aside. "I want you to take Gweld and have him show you where he last tracked Athson. Then you search for him, see if you can find him fast." He pointed between himself and Makwi. "We know these hills better, so it's just you on the search ahead. We need haste, not mistakes. Gweld's taken a few risks, but we can't afford walking into a pack of raiders."

  Makwi nodded and sketched a salute. "I'll find him if it can still be done after this storm."

  Tordug lowered his voice. "Have Gweld wait. We need him back with us. Leave sign of your direction. With just three horses and low rations, we need to collect Athson and head for the elven forts. We can't get caught up in running from trolls just because he's taking chances."

  Makwi frowned. "I guess he's just worried, but I see what you mean. He was pretty upset when Hastra stopped us to rescue Limbreth."

  When Tordug broached the subject with the others, Gweld held his tongue and nodded, but he clearly disliked the idea. Tordug didn't care what the elf thought, he just wanted out of the hills without more trouble. Three horses, six riders, plus the giant left Tordug's stomach knotted. Maybe the snow would keep the numbers of trolls wandering the heaths lower than normal.

  They set out with Gweld and Makwi trotting ahead on a horse they shared. The others followed with more care. Tordug wanted Athson safe with them soon. They might escape without trouble from trolls. He wanted honor restored, but not by acting foolish. He led their group with Hastra riding behind him. Limbreth followed with Danilla on their last horse, and Ralda trailed afoot.

  They followed Makwi's marks, left in subtle spots where the rocky terrain lay bare, and soon met Gweld waiting with an impatient but disturbed expression. Still he voiced no argument. Thank Elokwi for elven restraint. They needed it now. If only Makwi could catch Athson still holding up in a cave.

  They followed Makwi's trail until Tordug found a mark telling them to wait. That was bad. Likely trolls, and he hated waiting in the open while making no progress through the short winter day.

  By Tordug's count, nearly two hours passed, and he worried for Makwi's safety. But Tordug found no indication where Makwi had headed from their location. He glanced along ridges and back the way they'd come. Bad just sitting and waiting for trolls like this. He tugged his knotted beard and muttered.

  Nearby, Gweld stood by his horse and nudged a few rocks with his boot. He faced Tordug. "Maybe I should've gone with him."

  Tordug ran his tongue along his teeth. "I think he can take care of himself."

  Gweld patted the horse and seemed poised to leap into the saddle. "At some point I'll have to go look for him."

  "Not yet."

  A few minutes later, a shape edged out of a ravine up the valley and paused. Gweld nocked an arrow to his bowstring. The figure approached, avoiding snow wherever possible.

  Gweld removed his arrow. "It's Makwi."

  They waited several more minutes until the dwarf arrived with his brow furrowed.

  Tordug saluted Makwi. "Something wrong?"

  Makwi nodded and answered the salute. "Killed three trolls." He pointed toward the ravine he had left farther up the valley they traversed. "Left them hidden in a cave up there. I scouted for Athson farther north, but I found more trolls out scouting. Killed a few more and hid them away. We won't find Athson anytime soon, though."

  "Why's that?"

  "Every valley, dell, and ravine I scouted heading north is filled with trolls marching west. It looks like Corgren has emptied Chokkra to invade Auguron."

  Tordug's eyebrows climbed his forehead. That was very bad. He sighed and stroked his beard.

  Gweld glanced between them. "An army between us and Athson." He shook his head. "They must have started marching in the storm to move that many trolls."

  Makwi climbed onto the horse with a leap for the stirrup. "You can look for him, but you won't get past that army."

  Danilla's brow furrowed like Makwi's. "Do you think he's safe?"

  Makwi shrugged. "Can't tell. I never found sign of his passing, but there's snow so many places and rock everywhere else, I'd never know I passed his trail. Anything he left behind under snow has been trampled by trolls."

  Hastra stepped to Tordug’s side. "I was afraid of something like this with that sign in the night sky." She glanced at Gweld. "The elves have worried about the trolls for decades, haven't they?"

  Gweld watched clouds a moment, then exhaled. "Yes. I'd like to find him, but I don't know how we can now."

  "So we just leave him to the trolls?" Limbreth's tone sounded adversarial.

  Tordug sidled alongside Limbreth. He didn't want another scene like in the Drelkhaz. Arguing didn't help matters, and he didn't want to draw the attention of any nearby goblins or kobolds. "Look, we don't want to abandon Athson, but if we can't reach him, then we can't."

  Makwi adjusted his weight on the horse. "Chances are he's gone on north to get away from them. He can handle himself. And if Hastra's correct, he's got help from this other Withling."

  Limbreth crossed her arms. "I don't like it at all." She seemed intent on having her say without making trouble, at least for the moment. "What if they have him?"

  Ralda waved his inked hands. "We no help save. Not know too."

  Tordug tugged his beard. "No, we can'
t know either way. But trying to find out might just get us all captured." He fixed his gaze to the Withling. "What do you think?"

  Hastra kicked a pebble at her feet, glanced at Limbreth, and released a long sigh. "My heart tells me to find Athson. My head tells me to secure the Bow of Hart. Eloch tells me to ride for the elven forts and warn them. Athson's still safe with Apeth Stellin."

  Limbreth pursed her lips, then glanced Danilla's way.

  Athson's mother clutched Limbreth's arm. "Hastra, I'll trust your Withling's sense of this. It's more than we can guess otherwise."

  Limbreth slouched, then squared her shoulders. "You were right before. I'll go with what you say."

  Tordug held the horse steady for Hastra. "I guess we ride for the forts, then."

  They all mounted up except for Ralda and turned to skirt the troll army at Makwi's direction. Tordug chewed the inside of his cheek and glanced around them for sign of troll scouts. One thing he knew—if Corgren's trolls marched, there'd be plenty of chances to regain the rest of his honor. Or die trying.

  He chuckled at the thought.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  Athson wanted to ride off alone past drifts of snow, but his sensibility held him back. He couldn't abandon someone else in the Troll Heaths. He knew little enough of the craggy hills except from his own travels, but he disliked the thought of leaving Apeth Stellin here amid the fallen boulders and heather-covered hilltops just because he had urged Athson to become a Withling. Maybe when they found the road or arrived at Marston's Station. Athson needed to send a report to Sarneth about the others, hard as that might be. He'd go that far. He sighed. With Apeth.

  "You seem to be debating something in your head." Apeth strolled alongside Athson as he rode the mule.

  "Just decided I really do need to go to Marston's. I need to send a report about the others being dead." He slouched at that thought. His heart twinged with sadness. Limbreth grieved him most of all, after his father. He looked east. But maybe there was a chance with his mother. That wandering star meant nothing now.

  "You don't know they are all dead."

  "Well, I can't go back and look for them. You saw all those trolls on the march." North was the best way now. Athson eyed the surrounding ridges strewn with crumbling rock and their back-trail. Troll scouts might hide anywhere among these crags and brush though he spotted no tracks in the patches of snow. "Anyway, you say they may not be." Word of a Withling.

  "You doubt me, I get that." Apeth shot Athson a grin.

  Athson's breath caught. How had Apeth known his thoughts? He sniffed and searched for scouts again. Lucky guess.

  "But that doesn't change that you're called, and you know it."

  Heat rose in Athson face even with the cold. "I don't know that."

  "Where's Spark?"

  "He's ahead of us, being a dog." Athson's back stiffened. Spark might be the only thing left that he trusted. "Why?"

  Apeth chuckled. "You know why. You can run from it, but it's still there. You dream, you see Spark, you get instructions about handling that blessed sword."

  Athson opened his mouth for a loud, angry retort, then thought better of it. He shouldn't attract the attention of trolls. "I've been debating leaving you behind."

  The old Withling strolled on beside the mule without glancing Athson's way. "Decided not to?"

  "Trolls are behind us. It wouldn't be good to just up and leave somebody alone here." Even if he didn't know the heaths that well himself.

  "So a moral decision?" Apeth grabbed the bridle and halted the mule. He faced Athson. "Maybe you're listening to Eloch more than you think, Athson."

  "I doubt that. I'm a ranger, is all." He wrenched the reins free of Apeth's grasp and kicked the mule's sides with his heels. Maybe he should leave Apeth. He sighed. That wasn't right, no matter what. He halted the mule. "Why don't you get on, and we'll put some distance between us and the trolls."

  Apeth mounted the mule and rode behind Athson. He urged the animal forward along the dell of stone that bent away northwest between craggy ridges. Withlings toyed with him and manipulated him at every turn, and now this one offered him membership in their failing order. If that didn't take the bit from the mule, he didn't know what did. At least Apeth held his tongue for now.

  After a while, Athson halted the mule and listened. Apeth started to speak, but Athson held up his hand for silence. Just be quiet for once, Withling. You don't know everything. Athson listened. Maybe he needed the Bow of Hart just now. If it really worked. It hadn't on the Funnel. That thought tightened his chest. Had he chosen the wrong shot? He had let Corgren bait him and nearly gotten killed himself. He shook his head.

  There it was. A rock rolled along the ridge near where they were stopped. Not good. Spark stalked forward. Really not good.

  Athson reached for an arrow and touched his sword-hilt. Run! Athson hesitated. So he shouldn't fight?

  He kicked the mule into a gallop. "Hold on." Somehow Apeth held on, and so did Athson.

  The mule ran along the ravine and passed Spark. Arrows whizzed past them, and Athson leaned forward. Limbreth on her white horse near Marston's Station crossed his mind. "Don't fall."

  Spark snarled, and a goblin squealed.

  "Get 'em, Spark!" He chanced a glance over his shoulder. He didn't want to count the goblins trailing and launching arrows after them. Several flailed with Spark among them, snapping at their throats.

  Apeth shouted in his ear. "How'd you know?"

  He'd heard the rock tumble but not the number of attackers. He groaned. There had to have been thirty. "Sword told me."

  The Withling grunted as if to say, Told you so.

  Athson swore into the rush of frigid wind as Spark's snarls echoed in the ravine behind them. Withling. He was acting too much like one, and he didn't think he could avoid it. He didn't know if he'd make through the day.

  He laughed. He bet the Withling behind him knew.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Corgren left Rok within hours of his meeting with Magdronu and traveled to the Troll Heaths. There, he commanded his trolls into the action demanded by the dragon and the appearance of Eloch's Arrow in the sky. The trolls marched west in a grumbling mass and mirrored the path of the wandering star. Alone among the trolls at night, Corgren stared at the comet as it distanced itself from the Drelkhaz and headed west. He stirred from silent musing. Hastra's little band of travelers lurked in the Troll Heaths, and he should have already sent scouts looking for them.

  His eyes narrowed in thought. When the arrow came, it would be around her or Athson. Magdronu reported Athson missing, but Corgren assumed he, too, traversed the Troll Heaths. Stop them, and he'd thwart the coming arrow, sign or no sign.

  He snarled for his officers. With the passage of days, Hastra and Athson had likely already fled the area, but Corgren planned for Athson's path. His master sought the arrow with Hastra, but Corgren might capture Athson with the Bow of Hart.

  Corgren spoke in trollish and commanded his scouts to find the dragon's prey and bring him to Corgren if possible. He questioned them about any reports. None of his scouts had spotted anything of Hastra or Athson. He snorted. Trolls often lacked direction and wandered at times, returning when they wished, likely causing mischief wherever they discovered opportunity.

  The next day, he returned to Rok and called his fellow mages to a meeting. He dismissed the junior, less powerful mages to Rok to take care of the sacrifices there. Once those bumblers departed, he sat with Paugren and the Beleesh sisters in Paugren's office. The women stared at him, their lips curled in slight smiles of hidden cruelty. Their dark eyes, alert and perceptive, sought weakness like birds of prey. Their pretty features of high cheeks on oval faces with pouty lips fooled many a man who encountered them. Corgren glanced at his brother and arched an eyebrow. A far distance from the flirtatious lasses they'd recruited back during his assignment at Withling's Watch.

  "I've been given command of our next operations as I announced earlier to the
others." Good riddance to those weaklings. Better they handled the mundane tasks while their betters performed the difficult tasks.

  "Long deserved, brother." Paugren stirred at his desk. "We are yours to command." He nodded.

  Corgren searched the sisters with his eyes for any challenge, but they returned blank stares. Careful after this long, those three.

  "We have several objectives. Begin the shrine in Auguron City." He'd laid plans there himself as an agent disguised as Domikyas, the Rokan merchant. "But we've a wrinkle in our plans. There's been a hidden Withling at work who has thwarted us over time but more openly these last weeks." Corgren paused to let that sink in. He lifted a finger. "We know our enemies, their goals, and Eloch's prophecy. There's no more tolerance for these surprises. We'll overcome them, and we will win in the end."

  Ahmelia narrowed her eyes and sniffed. "Eloch has played even Magdronu for a fool. We're not to blame."

  Esthria crossed her arms and lifted her chin. "You're the one who lost the Bow of Hart and got stabbed nearly to death. If it had been me making decisions, I'd have let you die for those mistakes."

  Corgren stood and loomed over the desk, but Paugren spoke first. "I think you tread where the ice is thinnest."

  Cass crossed her legs but left her hands noticeably resting in her lap. "We almost got killed by that Archer's blessed sword. It would have been nice for the warning."

  Esthria laughed and stared directly at Corgren. "And we almost got charred by Hastra's little stunt in the mountains. But we didn't let a half-blind slave attack us."

  Corgren slammed his palm on Paugren's desktop. "Enough!" He pointed to each sister in turn. "You fled in the mountains at the slightest problem. Then you never noted Hastra's escape, let alone the loss of Athson's mother—both of them valuable hostages."

  Cass pursed her lips and stared out a window, but the other two merely watched Corgren like they were waiting for a slip from him. Like they could kill him. He suppressed a sneer of arrogance. That had gotten him stabbed by Ath and nearly killed.