Chapter Eleven #2
Asdren roared in Dwarven to his comrades as I fired steadily, each arrow finding its mark at the base of the troll’s thick neck.
The dwarves moved in, slowly, like a pack of wolves circling a wounded plains gazelle.
The troll began to weaken—finally—and then slumped over to its side.
Asdren charged in to bring his hammer down on the monster’s head.
With a sickening crack, the troll twitched once, twice, and then shat itself as the life left its body.
“Ack, that smells worse than a goblin’s armpit!” Narub groaned as he yanked his sword from the now-dead mountain troll.
“Nasty things they are,” Asdren commented, wiping the gore from his hammer on the cold, dead grass. “Young male. They get drove off by their mas when they reach a certain age. Not that crossing this grotesque thing with his ma would make an uglier babe.”
Jaculi kited overhead, soaring skyward until he was a mere speck in the bright blue sky before diving back down, circling us in joyous abandon. Grinning at the dragon, I too took a moment to drink in the warmth of the sun on my face, tipping my nose skyward, bow in hand, as I let my eyes close.
“You keep staring up at the sun, you’ll get freckles,” Asdren called out. I opened my eyes in time to see Jaculi pluck a fat dove from the air. Feathers exploded and floated downward to coat the dwarves cleaning off their weapons. “Glad he’s only big enough to eat rock doves.”
“For now,” Smuta said as she picked some bits of flesh from her mace. “Give it a few seasons, and he’ll be carrying off kids.”
The others said nothing, just watched as Jaculi landed on the ledge beside me, dove tightly gripped in the talons of his right front leg, wings tucked on his back.
“Surely he deserves a reward for aiding us in fighting that troll,” I said and scrambled down to join the dwarves standing around the dead troll.
“A keg of ale and a warm wench would be reward enough for me,” Dulgar commented to the side.
“Same.” Smuta sighed as if it had been years since she had been with someone and not mere days. The sharp, deep croak of a raven floated to us. I glanced skyward to see Click hopping about on a dead pine ash, his thoughts touching mine just as I spied his glossy black feathers.
Click waits for suns and suns. So hungry. Feed Click.
I shook my head at the bird and gave the dragon a firm look as well as a sharp command.
Jaculi, do not touch the ravens.
He looked up at my message, gold eyes glimmering, then spotted the big black bird who had not seen the dragonling yet, it seemed.
Is that a raven? Gray feathers cascaded down to the ground as he spoke.
Yes, large black birds. They are my friends. They bring me messages. Do not eat them.
I will not eat the large black birds. I will eat other birds. They are delicious and fun to chase. What other birds may I eat?
Any that are not large and black. And no animals within fences.
You have many rules.
All I could do was nod. It was true. There were many rules, and more to come, I was sure, but they were to keep him as safe as I could. He returned to his meal. Click flapped over to me, landing gently on my arm and twisting his head to the side to stare down at Jaculi.
Big lizard. Click eats little lizards.
I ran a hand down his sleek back as a brisk, clean wind raced down the mountainside. Cold, yes, but invigorating. With a rough nip of his beak to my shoulder, he walked down my arm and then my back until he was ready to let me remove the two tubes from each leg.
Click eats little lizards. Click flies many miles. Feed Click.
I had little left. I passed over a withered apple, which he took then flew up to an outcropping of rock.
I sat down to try to read the missives from the capital, but instantly saw I was in trouble.
The king’s swoopy writing was a tangled mess of curls, letters all running into confusing lines.
I stared down at it for so long my head began to ache.
“Bad news?” Asdren enquired as he approached.
“I do not know,” I huffed, wishing above all else that my brain was not so useless. “I cannot make sense of the writing.”
“Here, let me read it for you.” He held out a hand speckled with drying troll blood.
My sight darted to the large monster and back to Asdren.
I nodded as I passed along the tightly bound note.
If you could not trust a man who helped you fell a rampaging troll, who could you trust?
Also, I felt things for him. Fylson would certainly not agree with sharing state secrets with a lover, but Fylson was not here and my heart was.
“What it says stays between us only,” I whispered.
“Surely,” he softly replied. The others had tumbled to the ground to catch their breath.
Asdren turned his back to his underlings, wild black hair fluttering about his head as a cold wind caught it.
It was a soft mass, much softer than it appeared, much like his beard.
Unrolling the tiny scroll, he read it to me in a whisper that I had to lean in to hear.
“First one is from the king, which you already know. Says to reply immediately as they are worried.” He glanced at me with bright blue eyes.
“We are running late.” I nodded. His gaze returned to the note. “Says to look for a note from Le’ral.”
“That would be the second tube,” I said, turning my back to the others as well to pop the top and dump the missive into my palm. “I may be able to read this one.”
“Then I’ll leave you to it,” he replied as he passed the first missive back to me.
“No, I…stay. I trust you. You have proven yourself stalwart and brave.”
He glanced up at me with unreadable emotion. “I trust you too, Chirp.”
“Good.” I gave him a weary smile before gingerly opening the note. This one, from the Shadow Master, was simply worded, plain letters. I read it to him, stumbling only over the name listed on the note. “We are to meet…C’art…C’arte Gee…yes, C’arte Gee. Lettle Curve. White Sky Stable.”
Asdren nodded. “I’m not familiar with Lettle Curve, but to be honest, I’ve done my best to avoid the clans out here on the tundra. Far too much land, far too little money, and far too many tundra wolves.”
“I know of it. It lies on the northwestern side of Lake Falomar.” I returned my sight to the missive. “Gee news on CC.”
“Coelum Cadere,” Asdren mumbled. “Okay, then we head northwest to find the lake and track down this Gee person at the stables.”
“What of the troll?” I asked while ripping the missives into small bits before scattering them to the wind.
“Wolves, vultures, and crows will eat well.” He tossed a glance at Jaculi chewing on a wing. “You sure about him?”
“I am.”
“Okay, then he’s your burden to bear. Just know that if he goes feral, I will do what needs done, no matter how sad your pretty green eyes grow.”
“I understand.”
“Good. Now you need to talk to the ponies. I ain’t walking all the way to this Lettle Curve.”
Checking the barren landscape, I saw nothing that looked like a pony. Perhaps Asdren would be walking further than he had anticipated.
We found the horses several hours later, enjoying some tall grasses that had sprung up as the mountainside began to give up its hold on the land.
Where there had been rock and scrub now was giving over to low-growing plants, some tall grasses, and trees.
The land was softer. The frost having left the soil, leaving small pools of water.
More animals and birds were seen. From small voles to hares to larger beasts such as the tundra oxen—massive cowlike animals with wide, long horns and shaggy coats—to russet bears and wolves.
I’d not seen the predators of the area but had seen tracks and scat.
Newt and his friends were quite lucky not to have been chased down by the packs of huge canines.
Food. Happy food. No apples. Sing song.
I gave Newt a good rub along his flank before breaking into song.
Jaculi soared over us, hunting from the sky like a scaly raptor, as we gathered our steeds.
The air was slightly warmer as we rode away from the base of the Witherhorns.
I sang the song of Stalwart Stonehoof, the strongest steed around, as we left the lands of the dwarves behind.
Lake Falomar was a huge freshwater lake fed by the melting snow runoff of the Witherhorns.
It took us a full day and a night to travel to its shores, plus another pass of the sun and moon sisters to find the settlement of Lettle Curve.
In the past, I had ventured into the tundra lands for various jobs, but never this far in when the clans were skirmishing.
With Click having returned to Celear as soon as I could fashion a note to Fylson, we were using Jaculi as a far-lands scout.
With each passing sun, our bond seemed to intensify.
I had awoken last night from a dream where I was freefalling from the clouds.
Heart pounding to break free from my chest, I sat up, panting, and caught sight of the ice dragonling careening downward above us, his lithe form slicing through the night sky as he dove at something sharing the full moons.
Blinking away the fear, I watched him catch his prey then expand his wings to slow his descent.
When he landed on my sleeping roll, he dropped a fat flying squirrel on my thigh.
For you.
I was touched. Thank you, but I do not eat meat. Please, you enjoy it.
He seemed perplexed. The short people eat meat.
Yes, they do. I do not. Our goddess, Danubia, guides us to give up partaking of the flesh of the beasts we oversee.