Chapter Six
THE SOUTHERN PLATEAU WAS A BLESSING from the goddess herself.
Not just for me, but for the horses, Newt in particular.
He had done well, but the climb was working on his sore foot.
So when we arrived at the rock shelter, a large grotto with a dribbling water pool in the back of a well-used cave greeted us.
Everyone was weary. The twins had actually stopped chattering about dumb things by mid-afternoon.
The side of the Witherhorns were barren now, only a few scraggly trees, tenacious as the tundra wolves, clung to the ever-increasing stone sides.
The air was colder now. It puffed in front of your face with every hard-earned breath.
Inside the overhang was a fire pit. In the far corner sat a stack of small chunks of wood, hauled up from below, as a courtesy for anyone in need.
Now I knew what the pack of round blocks of pine we’d brought along were for.
Smuta had a fire going quickly. I spent time with the ponies, tending to Newt’s ailment, which was still swollen but not as severe as it had been.
I jammed all the moss I had with me into the foot wrap.
He was grateful for the care. They were good ponies, smart with genteel ways.
They were the best choice for this harrowing climb, even though I missed Hasulett deeply.
The paths we had followed up were narrow, littered with rock and gravel, and dangerous.
One misplaced step would send an elf over the side.
After tending to the horses, I slipped back into the cave, making a face in the shadows of the dancing flames at the grease dripping from an afternoon kill by Dulgar.
The twins sat down with her to eat a fat plucked pine turkey taken down by a dagger expertly thrown.
The roasting bird had filled the grotto with smoke and the scent of cooked meat.
I had found a nook near the dribbling water to call mine for the night and ate my ration of berries and oats soaked in water with a hunk of dry bread with salty nut spread.
There I stretched out after my meal, close enough to the fire to feel its gentle warmth on my back, but far enough from the dwarves that the trickle of water helped cover their snores.
I heard the soft conversation among my companions, all in Dwarvish, as I let the soothing flow of the water into the small pond wash over me.
Glancing over my shoulder when the talk stopped, I saw Asdren rise and step outside.
First watch I assumed as my eyes drifted closed.
Sometime later, I felt the anxiety of the ponies pulling me awake. Sitting up, my blanket falling to my lap, I reached out to the beasts. They all spoke at once.
Predator smells. Strong.
Rest easy. I am coming.
I scrambled out of my nook and past the three dwarves sleeping like the dead by the fire.
Stepping out into the night, the cold air was bracing.
I glanced at the ponies, who were huddled together, heads high, muscles tense, and ears pricked.
I’d been humming the strong horse song they all seemed to enjoy so well.
“What you doing up, Chirp?” Asdren called from the left, where he sat on a flat rock, pipe in hand, feet dangling over the sheer rock edge of the camping site. His war hammer sat on his thighs like a beloved cat.
“The pony’s anxiety woke me,” I explained as I moved among the beasts, touching them, whispering to them to calm themselves, for they were safe.
“Ah, yeah, they been flaring their noses for the past little while. Yeti patrols.” He waved his pipe downward.
My heart sped up as I ran my hand down a tense flank.
“Probably smell the hairy bastards. They stink like a privy left to bake in the sun, especially this time of year when the males are primed up for the mating season.” I eased out from the nervous horses tethered together behind a rocky outcropping.
The wind picked up slightly once I stepped out of the windbreak.
“Look down and to the left. See them blue lights?”
I moved to stand near his shale throne, peeking over the edge. “Yes, I see three.”
“Yep, that’s the yeti. They’re out carousing probably, looking for females in the lower caves. Horniest things you ever seen is two yeti fucking. The howls alone will shrivel your stones.” I stood there watching the soft blue glow of the magical ice fire lanterns the massive furred ones carried.
“Are we in danger? Should I take the ponies inside the cave?” I hunkered down into a crouch, elbows inside my knees, to watch the swaying lights moving among the rocks and boulders.
“Nah, they ain’t coming up this way. There’s strict markings on the rocks that tell them which is their lands and which ain’t.
We stay on this side of Mother Moth, we’re good.
They don’t allow too many folks into the waterfall inside the mountain.
We dwarves have been dealing with the snow folk for thousands of seasons now.
We know where our land is and where theirs is.
Only time they run amok is when the young males get a blood lust and make for lands that the elves and dwarves share as they sit close to the low caves the females prefer for raising young.
That’s where your bronze warrior made himself a name as a yeti slayer. ”
“He did not slay it, only removed its hand,” I quickly corrected as sweet vanilla pipe smoke wafted under my nose.
I glanced back to find him staring intently at me.
I hurried to return my attention to the slopes far below, wondering why I had never seen or smelled the pipe before. It was not an unpleasant aroma.
“You look like him,” Asdren said after a few moments passed.
Again, I glanced back. The ponies were settling slightly now that I was here with them.
Either that or they could not scent the yeti as the wind was not blowing up the mountainside.
“Your da, you got his eyes. Green as velvet moss coating a tree.” I dropped to one knee to turn slightly to face him more.
“I did tell you I knew him, your da, so no need to look so belly-punched.”
“Looking like him is no compliment. I would rather you make fun of the red hair and freckles my mother passed down to me!”
“Easy now, Chirp.” He eased his war hammer off his lap then placed one boot on the other knee.
The stars were bright tonight. The sky clear, and the wind cold.
His face was starlit as he gave his pipe a draw, only to find it had gone out.
He tapped the spent tobacco on the side of his rocky seat with a sigh.
“I ain’t never once made fun of your ginger root hair or them dots on your cheeks.
” I huffed. “I maybe only commented on the rarity of them. You’re as prickly as a forest hedgehog, boy-o. ”
“I am not a boy,” I snarled, shooting to my boots, fists clenched at my sides. “I am an elf grown. Probably older than you!”
“Hmm, I doubt that, but then you elves do age funny. I’m two hundred forty-one on the next spring equinox. And you’re about a hundred twenty or so, maybe a little older, but not as old as your young king.” My lips flattened. “Tell me I’m wrong, Chirp.”
“You are not wrong.” It tasted bitter to admit I was a young one compared to this matured dwarf.
“Didn’t figure I was. See, I got lots of seasons and life lived on you, Vol’ka Dor, so me calling you boy-o seems a clean fit.”
“What does that mean? Vol’ka Dor?” I pressed, eager to change this discussion into something less embarrassing. I hated that he thought of me as a child.
He drew his lips over his teeth. “Means you need to get your skinny arse back to your bed before you catch cold. Smuta ain’t no tender nursemaid who’ll wipe your nose whilst rubbing your back if you come down sickly.”
“I do not need her to mother me!” I snarled over at him before I left him to sit out here in the cold with only his hammer for company.
He seemed to wish it so. I threw myself into my bedroll, stewing like a kettle of vegetables and meat over a fire.
What a pungent, ignorant, miserable soul Asdren Grimmane was insulting me in Elven and Dwarven both!
If that term he had used was a slur, what else would it be?
The man had no kindness in his breast. None!
I moved to my side to find Narub had rolled close enough to touch.
Smarting still from the insults from the shithead on watch, I swatted the younger dwarf on the face.
“Oof.” Narub coughed as his hand went to his nose.
“Sorry, I was asleep,” I lied. “What does Vol’ka Dor mean?”
“Strong slap for an elf.” I rolled my eyes. “Bird. Pretty bird. I seen a pretty bird on top of a slice of buttered bread that…”
He fell back to sleep, his hot breath blowing into my face with soft snores.
I moved to lie on my back to stare at the shadows the lazy fire cast on the rounded rock ceiling.
Pretty bird? Certainly that must be wrong.
I would ask the other two come morn. Surely the leader of this mercenary band would not call me such an endearing thing. Surely not…
“Oh yeah, that’s what that means. Pretty bird.
You’re picking up the stone language quick, Chirp!
” Smuta stated as we saddled the ponies for another day of rock climbing.
“You need to learn some good Dwarven insults for when you’re with the miners.
They ain’t partial to the snooty talk of the pointy ears.
No offense. I think your ears are kind of cute.
” She reached out to flick the tip of my ear and snickered.
“Always pointing right up like a stiff prick!”
The twins laughed lewdly. I felt my cheeks pinken, the cold air raw on my hot face.