Terry W. Ervin (31 page)

The hair on my neck stood on end as I recalled the bone golem. I looked away, skyward for dragons. “What makes you think I’ve faced many opponents?”

“Look at your helmet, the blood stains on your armor,” she said. “You’re young but don’t have the eyes of a farmhand.” Before I asked, Lilly answered, “When you think on battles, they get intense and distant at the same time.”

“Okay,” I said. “I’ll answer this one last question. Then it’s time to eat and move. Those mudhounds could pick up my scent any time.”

Mentioning hounds caused Lilly to tense up. She stood, listening. After almost a minute I said, “Legs are done.” I smiled. “Better than worms and grubs.”

She nodded, picking several of the legs from the fire and wrapping them in horseradish leaves. “What was the worst? Ogres?”

I took several frog legs and wrapped them. “Zombies are the worst.” Lilly’s eyes widened at my answer. She stopped chewing. “They don’t make any noise when they attack,” I said. “They don’t cry out in pain or fear. The only sound in battle is your comrades dying.” I should have stopped there, but for some reason didn’t. “Sometimes the animated corpse clawing at you is a friend killed the night before.”

A minute later, Lilly removed the rest of the frog legs from the hot stone and wrapped them. She sat down next to me. “My father said talking about bad experiences helps put them to rest.”

I put my arm around her. “I’ll listen anytime you want to talk about your family.”

She smiled, looking at me. “I will, Flank Hawk. When I’m ready.”

The odor of rotting flesh on the morning breeze caught our attention. It wasn’t pervasive or cloying enough to be zombie stench.

Lilly had brought the smell to my attention soon after we entered the light woods. I was too busy thinking about the abandoned fields we’d crossed showing signs of spring planting. The carrion flies buzzing told me we were close, even as Lilly stepped onto a fallen log and pointed.

A spotted lynx feasting upon a dead horse bared its fangs and hissed before retreating into the undergrowth.

Lilly hurled a rock at it. “I hate cats,” she spat. “If I had my sling.”

“It’s gone,” I assured her. “It won’t bother us.” I approached the horse’s remains. “It’s a m’unicorn. Or was.”

Lilly stood next to me on the western side, upwind. “Arrows.” She counted six of the black-feathered shafts sticking out of the m’unicorn’s sunken white hide.

I’d seen dead livestock often enough to estimate how long ago it died. “Two, going on three days.” I walked around to its head, and pushed aside a snapped, leaf-withered branch. “Someone carved out its horn. Probably the goblins that shot it.” Why they left the arrows I wasn’t sure.

“What do you think happened to the rider?”

I shrugged, not seeing any tracks that survived the recent rain. “Dead. I don’t think she’d have allowed them to carve up her steed.” I didn’t add that she might be a walking corpse.

“She?” asked Lilly with interest.

“Yes, she,” I said, recalling the m’unicorn cavalry I’d seen. “The cavalrymen for these crossbreeds are usually women.” I bent down and cut away straps from the harness and bridle with Gussy’s dirk. “You can use this to fashion a sling if you want.” I checked closer, holding my breath and swatting away flies. “Nothing else of value.”

“Listen,” said Lilly, looking up and around.

My heart sank. “What?”

“This way,” she said while coiling the leather before stuffing it into one of her wool vest’s pockets.

Breathing a sigh of relief, I followed her, deciding it wasn’t hounds or we’d be running instead of walking. Five minutes later I heard the cawing of crows. We angled north, toward the sound. Gore crows at such volume meant an abandoned battlefield.

We stopped and surveyed a meadow from behind a wide thicket. Scattered across it lay fallen horses, hordes of goblins and a few ogres. Hundreds of crows and dozens of vultures feasted upon them. Sky blue and green. I didn’t recognize those Lord’s colors on the tattered pennants and fallen horses. Across the middle of the battlefield ran a dirt road, west into the woods and east over a distant rise. I also observed deep, parallel ruts running through the battle-churned meadow grass. Panzers.

“No fallen men,” Lilly whispered with a smile. “They must have won.”

I shook my head. “Taken for zombies. Remember the panzers I told you about?” I pointed. “Those ruts dug through the battlefield are their tracks. Three of them.” I didn’t add that the enemy must have moved on fast, as it appeared the goblins didn’t take many of their dead for rations.

Lilly grabbed my arm, and pointed. Along the far side, between the road and the woods, sat a wagon with a broken front axle. Two draft horses harnessed to it stood quietly. She smiled again.

I knew what Lilly was thinking. I put my hand on her shoulder. More than the odor of death made me cautious. It looked suspicious. “Forget them.”

“Why? We can ride them.” She looked at me with a raised eyebrow. “You can ride a horse? We’ll use saddles from the dead m’unicorns.”

“That’s just it,” I said. “Why would the enemy take time to collect bodies for zombies, goblins carve out m’unicorn horns for trophies, but leave two healthy draft horses?”

We crept back a few yards into the woods. “It’s a trap,” I whispered. “We could use the horses, but we don’t need them.”

“Do you think we’ve thrown off the mudhounds?” Lilly asked.

I shrugged. “Maybe.”

The crows became agitated, cawing louder. Some took to flight. We crept forward and saw three crouched men, peasants in rags, moving along the road toward the horses.

“Shouldn’t we warn them, if there is a trap?” asked Lilly.

“It’s too late. If it’s a trap, we’ll soon know.”

“And if not,” she said, “they’ll have the horses.”

“They’re braver than me. Or more foolish.”

Lilly scowled. “I’ll go and claim them. You can watch for danger. Back me up if there’s trouble.”

“No,” I said, raising my voice, hoping the crows’ ruckus hid it.

“We’re better armed,” she argued, looking at my spear and swords. “If I claim the horses, what can they do?”

“You’re not going out there,” I said with finality. “We’ll watch. If they get into trouble, we’ll help them—if we can.”

She let out a prolonged huff, but hunkered down next to me and watched as the peasants neared the broken wagon.

The youngest stood erect, looking about for danger while the other two went right to work unhitching the disinterested horses.

It was then that a piercing whistle followed by shrill calls came from the woods nearest the wagon. All three men stared at the woods, preparing to flee. They didn’t notice a goblin rise from underneath a tarp in the wagon’s bed.

I set my spear aside and cocked my crossbow. From the woods burst two goblins on what at first I thought were ponies. They were actually huge goats, painted with green and brown stripes.

The goblin in the wagon leapt onto the watchman, knocking him to the ground. The stunned watchman’s companions ran. The mounted goblins pursued the men down the road, back towards the woods while stretching a thick-corded net between them. The fleeing peasants split up. One kept to the road. The other angled south, towards the woods.

I ignored the chase and the chaos of the startled crows and vultures taking flight while elevating my crossbow, estimating distance and adjusting for the crosswind as I targeted the goblin standing with a sword drawn over the fallen peasant. Both watched the pursuit.

Lilly held her breath until I let the quarrel fly. It arced through the air and pierced the goblin’s neck just above the shoulder. The mounted goblins didn’t hear their fellow’s cry. Nor did they see the peasant wrest the sword from his captor and run him through.

I stood, now more confident. One armed and willing peasant along with me and Lilly could take two goblins, even mounted on war goats. Lilly grabbed my arm and yanked me back before I stepped into the meadow.

“What?” I asked.

“See,” Lilly pointed to where the road entered the woods. A giant emerged from the trees. It resembled the other giants I’d seen except that this one wore a stained canvas tunic.

The mounted goblins had snared the first peasant in their net before he reached the trees. The one on the road skidded to a stop, then stumbled while running away from the giant. The twenty-five foot behemoth overtook the man in five strides.

The peasant watchman, rather than fleeing in panic, cut free one of the horses and managed to urge it to a lumbering gallop.

Lilly and I faded back into the woods, listening to the giant’s deep laughter and the piercing goblin whistles. We ran. I led her back southeast, trying to keep downwind of the giant. When she asked why, I told her, “Giants have noses good as mudhounds.”

Too soon we reached the edge of the woods. We followed the border, trotting just inside the tree line where the undergrowth became thin due to lack of direct sunlight. The route brought us around, heading southwest.

“Do you think he got away?” Lilly asked about the fleeing peasant.

“Maybe,” I said, doubting he stood a chance.

“Were they riding goats? A horse can outrun goats that big, right?”

I looked ahead and behind, searching for pursuers. Following the tree line brought us back to running west. “They’re like mules. Good endurance, but it’s the giant that’ll catch him.”

“You always go west,” said Lilly. “Where are we going?”

“To Sint Malo,” I said.

She slowed, apparently not expecting that answer. “Have you ever been there?”

“No, have you?”

“No, but it’s a city of thieves and evil wizards.”

“It’s an open city, and no less dangerous than what wanders the Faxtinian Coalition.”

We stopped. The wooded land again ended, becoming a rolling grassland. Lilly climbed a forked silver maple while I scanned the sky for dragons.

Lilly said, “There’s another woods maybe two miles away. Nobody that I can see in between.”

I took a drink from my waterskin. From my vantage I’d seen the tops of the trees. With a giant so close, Lilly’s news was good. It’d become harder and harder to travel without encountering men or enemy patrols. “Let’s rest a minute.” Lilly hopped down next to me and I offered her a drink.

She took a mouthful and swallowed. “If we don’t follow a road, how do you expect to find it? I’ve never seen you use a map.” She tapped her head with her index finger. “Unless you’ve got it remembered up here.”

“No,” I said, knowing I had the prince’s map. It wouldn’t help me find Sint Malo. “I figured to travel west to the ocean. Sint Malo is coastal. Ask someone, then simply travel north or south to the city.”

“The hounds that chase you, they could corner us against the water.” She squinted up at me. “Are you going to tell me why they’re chasing you?”

“No, I am not.”

She stood with her hands on her hips. “You still don’t trust me? Does it have to do with that sword?”

“No,” I lied. The less she knew, the better. Although it was against my better instincts, I added, “And in Sint Malo we part ways.” I jammed the butt of my spear in the ground between us. “You can go south to Vinchie. I’ll even pay your passage aboard a decent ship. Or you can stay there and make a life for yourself.”

“And you?” she asked. “What will you do?”

I wanted to tell Lilly. The softening in her eyes said she knew I wanted to. I steeled myself. It made no sense for her to die on a hopeless quest too. “With the ocean, we should be able to hide our trail in the surf, maybe even find passage on a fishing vessel.”

“You’re not going to tell me!” She kicked a tuft of wildflowers, sending pale blue petals flying. “I should just leave you now.”

“It might be safer,” I said, adjusting the crossbow slung across my back, and checking the placement of the Blood-Sword over my shoulder.

“We’ll see,” she said. “You shouldn’t worry so much about me.”

“Why do you hate cats?” I asked. The question took her aback so I asked it again. “You said you hated cats when we ran across that lynx. Why?”

“A cat attacked me when I…” she hesitated as if in thought. “Was an, infant. Or so my mother said.” She looked at the ground. “But I don’t know why I’m telling you if you’re keeping secrets from me.”

I laughed as we trotted out across the open grassland. “Oh, and just how much have you really told me about yourself?”

She didn’t answer, and I didn’t press the issue. I continued to watch the sky for dragons, and over my shoulder for giants and goblins mounted on goats. They weren’t what picked up our trail.

Lilly grabbed my arm as she surged past me. “Mudhounds!”

We raced across the grassy fields and into the next patch of woods. Still, they gained ground. Ten minutes later I heard their baying too.

Off to our right, I saw a road cut along the side of a hill. I checked my satchel to make sure I still had the flask from Shaws. “The road,” I said.

Lilly didn’t argue. I hoped it somehow narrowed or crossed a bridge. I didn’t want to spread the powder along a path in the woods again. I didn’t have enough left to risk trying to throw the ogres and their hounds off the same way twice. Both Road Toad and Shaws said ogres are cunning brutes.