by Ty Johnston
“I hate to break it to you, young man,” the wizard said to Kron, “but I’m going to be traveling with you for at least a day. Transporting myself here used up a good deal of my magical reserves. I will need a day to restore myself.”
“That’s fantastic!” Randall yelled with a wide smile. “You can ride with me.”
***
What followed for the travelers was a long, tiring day. They were deep in the mountains now and the terrain grew more hostile. The path they had been following grew rougher, sometimes blocked by boulders that had rolled down from above. Each time they managed to scoot their way around the intruding rocks or Markwood would destroy the stones with a swift application of magic.
They continued to move late into the night with Kron guiding them by moonlight. He wanted to get further ahead of Belgad and the demons and hoped they would make it to civilized lands in three days or less.
That night they ate dry foods and camped without a fire. Even a small blaze would be seen for miles in the blackness of the Needles, Kron had warned. Fortunately, they had enough spare blankets for their guest.
Before drifting off to sleep, Kron’s final thoughts were of Wyck, the twelve-year-old boy who had been his friend in Bond. Markwood’s return had brought forth memories of the city of Kron’s birth. He did not like much of what he remembered, nightmares of his parents’ murder and the tragedy that befell Wyck.
Once during the night, Kron woke, crying out. He sat up shaking and was glad to see Adara was on watch.
Kron blinked back tears, but not tears of hurt. They were tears of rage. Long ago he had sworn to himself he would bring the slayer of his parents to justice, but the chance seemed to keep eluding him. Kron could admit he had made numerous mistakes, the worst being to include Wyck in his plans of vengeance against Belgad. Yes, there had been many mistakes. Kron had been too eager. Patience was not a virtue he held to, though he had realized it too late to save Wyck. But Kron had realized his errors, and now he knew to take his time, to be patient and wait. It was the strongest reason he had not already slunk off in the night and made an attempt on Belgad’s life, that and the fact he would have been leaving Randall and Adara without his protection.
Rubbing his eyes, Kron’s thoughts turned to the woman in their group. He did not know what to make of her. At first he had seen her as a spoiled brat, a girl with too much time and money on her hands. Those harsh feelings had intensified soon after their journey began because she had complained constantly during those first days on the road. Eventually, Adara had calmed, coming to accept a lifestyle without feather pillows and room service. Kron was even impressed with how she was coming along in her training. She was an excellent sword fighter, of that he did not doubt. She had been worth five swordsmen when Kron first met her, but her skills had been attuned to the duelist’s way of thinking. Since Kron had taken over Adara’s training, she had learned much, becoming even faster on her feet and, more importantly, faster with her mind. She was learning to think more abstractly when it came to melee, freeing her mind from preconceived perceptions. She could think on her feet, using her environment against an opponent. Of course Adara had not been fully tested as of yet, and Kron hoped it would stay that way, but she had shown a ready willingness when needed.
Kron smiled thinking of the woman. She was so beautiful it hurt him to think of her, but he did not know yet if it was love he felt for her. There were too many outside factors that intruded on their lives for him to think about love. Besides, he was on a vengeance trail, and on that path their was no room for love.
Darkbow rolled over onto his side and closed his eyes. Within minutes he was asleep.
Noticing Kron’s movement Adara knelt beside their fire and stared at the man who had been thinking of her.
From a higher elevation, on a ledge hidden by mountain shadows cast by the moon, another pair of eyes explored the group. After a half hour of watching Adara roam in a circle around the camp, the hulking figure lumbered away, climbing up the side of the mountain.
Chapter Ten
Markwood was as good as his word the next morning when he announced he would be leaving. Randall knew it had been coming, but he was not happy to hear the wizard say goodbye.
“Are you sure you can’t stay for at least a day?” the healer asked as he grasped the old man around the shoulders.
Markwood hugged Randall in return, then stepped back with a chuckle. “I’m sorry, my boy, but I am too old, and I have responsibilities at the college. Further, I can keep a watch of the goings on in Bond, while also keeping an eye on you. If you should need me, I will be there.”
The old wizard then turned to Adara and lifted her right hand, pressing his lips gently to the back of it. “And to you, my lady, I thank you for watching over my student,” he said. “We shall meet again. I am sure.”
Adara blushed as Markwood rounded on Kron Darkbow.
“May I speak with you in private?” Kron asked, surprising the wizard.
“Of course,” Markwood said as they moved away from Adara and Randall who stared at them with curiosity.
“I am asking you to stay with us,” Kron said.
Markwood appeared surprised again.
“We could use someone of your power,” Kron went on. “Randall is an excellent mage, but he has little in the way of offensive capabilities.
“If you do not wish to come with us, I understand.”
“It is not that I do not wish it, young man,” Markwood said, “but I feel it better for you if I do not. I would be a beacon for Verkain, a magical guiding light that would allow him to pinpoint your location. I could cover my tracks with protective spells, but there are ways around that.”
“Such as looking for areas that are dead of magic,” Kron reasoned.
Markwood looked surprised for a third time that day. “You have studied?”
“I’m no practitioner, if that’s what you mean,” Kron said, “but I knew a few mages who were wardens in the Lands.”
“I understand your concerns. I’ve been wondering what you plan to do about the war demons,” Markwood said, “for they will return.”
“We’ll avoid them as long as possible,” Kron said, then smiled, “but in the long run I figure you will take care of them.”
“Me?”
“Yes, you,” Kron said. “You’re the big, powerful wizard, after all.”
Markwood slapped his side and laughed hard.
“Come,” Kron said, motioning toward Adara and Randall, “let us finish your goodbyes so you can be on your way and we can be on ours.”
What followed were more hugs between Randall and the wizard. Then Markwood walked a good ways away from the group, waved one last time, and vanished with another booming noise.
Randall continued to stare at the spot where the old wizard had vanished for several minutes while Adara and Kron packed camp.
“You will see him again,” Kron said, placing a hand on the healer’s shoulder, “I promise you that much.”
***
Throughout the day, their path continued to grow rougher. At one point Kron considered letting their horses go free so they could continue on foot, but some hefty back work and a rope tied to one of the horses managed to move several large rocks blocking the path.
Near nightfall, their trail reached its zenith then twisted downward through more gray rock and dried weeds.
“It’s a wonder anything can survive up here,” Adara noted as she shivered in the chill winds blowing into the depression through which they rode.
“Not much does,” Kron said. “Even the mountain folk have to trade for food from time to time.”
“Yet we’ve seen nothing of them, nor of any other living creature,” Adara pointed out.
“There have been signs,” Kron said.
“Of what?” Randall asked.
“There were two eagles shadowing us a few days ago,” Kron said. “I also spotted a mountain goat this morning, and ... we are watched from ti
me to time.”
Adara and Randall’s heads instantly snapped up, scanning the tops of the surrounding mountains for any sign of eyes upon them.
“It’s likely the mountain people,” Kron said. “They’ve been on us since we left Hammer Home.”
They traveled on a few hours into the night before making camp. Adara took the first watch, Randall the second and Kron woke early to take the final watch of the night.
The man in black’s words of the day before were proven prophetic the next morning when a tall, hulking figure appeared in their path soon after they had broken camp.
Kron called for the others to curtail their horses as he pulled his own steed to a halt and held up a flat hand as a sign of greeting and to show he was not drawing a weapon.
“Good day to you,” he said to the hulk.
The mountain man was like a human in shape, but taller than any man at eight feet. It’s bulk was almost completely muscle, and its face was brutal and barbaric with long, scraggly hair hanging off its head and from its chin.
“You trespass,” the thing said in a solid, guttural voice.
“My apologies,” Kron said, lowering his hand and placing it on a dagger. “We did not know this trail was guarded. We will pay your toll, if you will allow us to pass.”
Adara jerked her horse’s reins to ride up behind Kron. “What are you doing?” she whispered. “We should ride past this fool and be on about our business.”
Kron turned his eyes to the sky. “He is not alone.”
Adara’s gaze shifted upward and she saw Kron was right. A dozen figures, each as large and ugly as the one blocking their path, were rising from behind boulders and dead bushes at higher points, surrounding the three riders. Each of the barbaric figures hefted a heavy rock in its hands.
“We no need coin,” the big man in front said.
“Ride through him,” Adara whispered to Kron.
Facing the man in front, Kron said, “What can we trade for our safe passage?” Without turning his head, under his breath he said to Adara, “There are too many of them. They would have us before we could flee.”
The hulk in front of them paused, looking over the three before him. His eyes finally came to stop on Randall. “We take one in white.”
Kron spun his head to stare at the healer, who looked as surprised at the big man’s words as Kron and Adara.
“We have to do something,” Adara whispered.
Kron looked her square in the face. “Even with my bow, the best I could get would be two or three before they would drop those rocks upon our heads.”
“We can’t let them take Randall!” Adara nearly yelled.
Kron turned back to face the man in front of them. “He is our friend. We can not let him go without seeing where he is being taken.”
The big man paused again, this time as if in deep thought. Finally, he said, “You have no choice. We take him and you leave. Other ways, we stomp you flat now.”
“I will fight to the death to save you,” Kron said to the healer, “but first I want to know if there is any magic you have that will take us out of this situation.”
“Let me go with them,” Randall said.
Adara’s mouth dropped open.
“It will be all right,” Randall said, placing a hand on the woman’s arm. “It’s not likely they’re going to kill me.”
“Until they make a stew of you,” Adara said.
Randall looked at Kron. “Could that happen?” he asked.
Kron shook his head. “I’ve never heard of the mountain folk turning to cannibalism. Besides, they could eat our horses if they wanted.”
Randall’s eyes fell on Adara again. “Let me go,” he said. “They won’t kill me. I don’t know why they want me, but you and Kron can follow. Maybe steal me away in the night.”
The woman looked at the man in black.
“It’s our best chance,” Kron said.
Adara couldn’t bring herself to look into Randall’s eyes again. “Very well,” she whispered.
Kron twisted in his saddle to face the giant. “We will allow you to take our companion,” he said, “but we expect to keep his horse.”
“Send him and go,” the big man said.
With a last gaze at his friends, Randall slipped from his saddle and began walking toward the brute.
“Follow,” the big man grunted, then turned and lumbered away along the path.
Randall followed the man without a word and without looking back.
Within seconds, the healer and the giant disappeared around a bend in the rocky path.
Kron held Adara back for a few minutes, waiting for those above them to melt back into the mountains, then they trotted forward. When they got to where they had last seen Randall, there was no sign of him or his captor.
***
Belgad was in a better mood than he had been in days, mostly because the war demons had left his party. The demons’ length of temporary servitude to the lord of Kobalos had expired, thus the creatures had returned to their hellish home. However, before blinking out of Belgad’s view, the lead demon Ybalik had told Belgad they would return in four days once their magic abilities had been strengthened. The bald man from Dartague had not argued with the demon general. He was glad they were gone.
The big warrior had other reasons to rejoice. The days and nights on the road, then through the woods and onto the mountain trail, had been like returning to his younger days. He was atop a horse again with weapons at the ready and on the hunt for dangerous prey. Belgad and his companions had trotted past the temple called Hammer Home without stopping, but that place too reminded him of the old days, and of the old ways.
Belgad did not like to think of returning to Bond. He did not miss the city or the daily problems that came with his life as a knight and a businessman. If the local merchants or guilds weren’t wanting his advice or money, then it was the Western Church seeking his aid. Belgad preferred his life simple with the blow of a sword or ax taking away his problems. One thing was for certain, though; he had Kron Darkbow to thank for this time in his life. Despite that, he seethed when thinking about the man, and that man would have to be punished for the offenses and embarrassment he had caused Belgad. But the northerner was glad of a strong, able enemy who approved allusive; Darkbow made the chase and the anticipation worth it.
Belgad chuckled as he rode, the others on horseback surrounding him as they moved along the stoney path Adara, Kron and Randall had taken only a day before.
As they rounded another curve in the rocky trail, the wizard moved her steed nearer to Belgad while placing a small mirror into her saddle bags.
“They have separated,” Karitha said to the north man.
“How do you know this?” Belgad asked.
“I was using my mirror to spy on the road ahead when the man in black and the woman appeared to me,” Karitha said, riding along. “They are no longer protected by the healer’s protective spell. He is not with them.”
Belgad turned his head from side to side to take in the others in the group. Fortisquo seemed fine, but the four guardsman appeared weary, likely from the monotony of travel, but not too tired to put in a little extra work.
“Tell the others we will ride all night,” the bald northerner said. “We may catch them in a day if we are lucky.”
***
“This is a fine mess,” Adara said with bitterness.
Kron was already off his horse and bending at his knees to stare at the rocky ground. “They’ve left a trail,” he said, pointing at the ground to their left, off their path.
Adara saw no difference in the trail they had been following and that to which Kron pointed. She only saw big rocks and little rocks, and it made her want to cry or scream.
“We can catch them,” Kron said, standing and returning to Adara and the horses.
“What are we going to do when we do?” the woman asked. “We could have fought them before, but you wouldn’t draw a weapon. You let him go
. You let him go!”
Kron spun on the woman. “They would have flattened us!” he yelled.
“We could have held them off while Randall rode on through,” Adara said. “You said yourself you could have gotten a few of them with your bow.”
Kron pulled himself into his saddle and glared down at the woman. “And again, we would have been killed,” he said, then added, “Are you going to help me save him, or are you going to continue badgering me about what did or did not happen?”
Adara climbed onto the back of her horse. “By Ashal, it’s like being married,” she spat, yanking her steed’s reins.
“You can have a divorce whenever you want,” Kron said, taking the lead.
Adara watched her teacher trot past. “You’re the worst mentor I’ve ever had!” she yelled at his back.
“And you’re not much of a student,” Kron said, riding on.
Adara screamed at the sky.
Chapter Eleven
It was night before they found the camp of the mountain people who had abducted Randall. A half hour from their original trail, their rocky way became too steep and Kron tied their horses to the trunk of a small, but sturdy tree.
It was another hour after leaving the horses, Kron tracking Randall and the behemoth with the healer, that the sun slipped below the mountainous horizon to the west. A half hour after that, the moon lighting their way, they spotted the flow of flickering firelight over a sharp crag.
“It’s them,” Kron whispered as he and Adara settled in behind boulders to watch the encampment below.
There were a score of the giant, lumbering mountain people, most sturdy males but a few of them women. They had built four huts of stone, each building suitable in size for the large inhabitants. In a clearing in the center of the huts was a huge bonfire, the flames taller than the largest of the mountain folk.
