Karleah wrung out the hem of one sleeve and snapped, “I’m wet, I’m tired, and I don’t want to go on any more today!” Her swollen lips were turned down in disgruntlement. Jo looked at the others, wondering if she herself looked as bitten.
Brisbois shook his head and said, “I’m not budging, either.” He eyed Jo slyly from the corner of his eyes. Be charitable, Jo thought. The man’s next words dispelled her thoughts. “It’s obvious you don’t know what you’re doing out here, particularly after you didn’t travel a few miles north to the better crossing point.” Brisbois shrugged nonchalantly and sat down on a rock.
Jo stared at the man, wondering if he was telling the truth. She couldn’t let him get a rise out of her, however, so she said calmly, “Be that as it may, we are now across the Hillfollow. It’s time to be on the move again.”
“We’re wet, cold, and tired,” Brisbois snapped. His hazel eyes flashed at Jo. “And I say we set up camp just up there on that hill.” The man gestured behind Jo.
The squire gritted her teeth. I can’t lose face! she thought angrily. I can’t let Brisbois take over! In a tense tone, Jo said, “And I say we move out—now.”
She locked eyes with Brisbois, and the man raised a sardonic eyebrow. Jo’s eyes narrowed as she remembered that Flinn often used the same expression; on the dishonored knight, the expression seemed almost blasphemous. Brisbois broke gaze first. He turned to Braddoc and said with a smile, “Don’t you think we should camp and rest, Braddoc? It doesn’t make any sense to get in a few more hours of weary travel, does it?”
The dwarf looked at Jo for a moment, his expression inscrutable. Slowly he turned his gaze to Brisbois, who smiled, then to Karleah and Dayin. The wizardess was plainly out of sorts, and the boy was obviously upset by both Karleah’s condition and the tension that had built in the group. Finally, Braddoc turned back to Jo and said solidly, “I agree with Brisbois that it’s not the most sensible idea to continue traveling today.” Braddoc paused, and Jo pursed her lips. She seemed unable to turn away from the dwarf’s single-eyed gaze. “However,” Braddoc continued, then nodded reassuringly, “you’re in charge here, Jo. I stand by you.” The dwarf folded his arms across his chest and splayed his stance.
Jo stared at her friend, and never had she felt more grateful for Braddoc’s steadfast loyalty. She flicked her gray eyes toward the knight. All right, Brisbois, she thought contemptuously. Make your next move.
As if he had read her thoughts, Brisbois arched his brow again and smiled smugly. He turned to Karleah and Dayin and said, “And what do you two say?” His voice was warm with honeyed tones. “Surely you’d rather set up camp and warm up?”
Dayin put his hand on Karleah’s arm, and the two looked at each other. Jo swore they could communicate without words. Karleah turned to Brisbois and scowled, “Every bone in my body, every muscle, agrees with you, Brisbois.” The old woman nodded at Jo and then continued, “But I’m with Jo. Dayin, too. You can stay here, for all we care ” As one, she and Dayin turned toward their mounts.
Jo took a step toward Brisbois, who slowly rose. She looked the tall man in the eye and said smoothly, “I’d rather you stayed behind, Brisbois, but you are my bondsman, and Sir Graybow told you to accompany me.” Her face hardened, as did her voice. “So mount up.”
Jo’s eyes glittered. “We re going to Threshold and get that box before it gets to Armstead.”
They made camp that night on a rocky ridge that rose above the desolate Wulfholde Hills. The stony crown of the ridge was rimmed by scrubby brush that would mask a fire from travelers on the barrens. Jo was pleased: she knew she wouldn’t be able to forestall a mutiny if she denied the others a fire tonight. Her companions wearily tended their mounts, changed out of their damp clothes, and lay down beside the meager fire Jo had built. Only Dayin and Brisbois bothered with pulling any food from their ration packs before falling soundly asleep.
By the stillness of her companions, Jo assumed she had been chosen for first watch. That suited her fine: it would give her a chance to contact Flinn through the stone she had received. Making certain the animals were properly hobbled and her companions fully asleep, Jo took a coal-tipped branch from the fire and ascended to the top of the rocky knoll. She scanned the black hills around the camp, looking for signs of the bandits rumored to roam these wastes. Nothing was moving through the Wulfholdes that night, nothing but the wind in the rugged grasses.
The gem was already warm when Jo pulled it from her belt pouch. It rarely cooled, and Jo drew comfort from its heat, as though Flinn’s spirit were beside her, his hand resting gently on her hip. Cradling the gem reverently in her palms Jo peered down into its deep, glistening depths.
“Flinn, it has been so long,” she whispered, tears rising in her eyes. She dashed them away with one hand and steeled her nerve, then lowered the gem toward the red-hot embers. Waves of heat rose in the wan light of the coals, enfolding the gem and stinging her fingertips.
Then, in the dim glow of the embers, a face began to form. Shadowy and indistinct, the face might have been a trick of the light, a suggestion imposed on the facets by her aching heart. Whether true or illusory, one thing was certain; the face was Flinn’s.
“Johauna,” he seemed to say, his lips moving in the ghostly shades of the gem.
“Oh, Flinn,” Jo whispered, her voice cracking, the resolve to be strong fading from her. “Oh, Flinn, I’ve missed you so.”
“And I have missed you, my love, Johauna,” the shade answered stiffly, his voice faraway and sibilant.
“I did as you would have done, my love,” Johauna said. “I granted Brisbois mercy, though every part of me cried out to kill him. I—”
“You still have my sword,” Flinn interrupted. “You still bear Wyrmblight in my honor, do you not?”
Jo nodded, wiping tears from her eyes. “Yes, Flinn, yes I do.”
“The Great Green tried to destroy it once. Still he hungers to destroy it. I can feel his hatred in this place of shadows.”
“Yes,” Johauna said, a nervous laugh on her lips. “But he couldn’t destroy it, Flinn. He can’t. I knew he wouldn’t be able to. Wyrmblight bears your glory.”
Flinn’s face darkened, and for a frantic moment, Jo thought it might disappear in the depths of the stone. She lowered the gem toward the embers, ignoring the searing heat on her fingertips. The face brightened, and Flinn whispered again, “Is the blade speaking to you, my dear?”
“It is,” Jo replied with a tearful smile. “It speaks often to me. It tells me to have faith.”
A steel-edged smile formed on Flinn’s face, and he nodded. “Ah, I see. Yes, Johauna, have faith. Keep your faith in Wyrmblight.”
“The bards are singing of your glory, my love,” Johauna broke in, wanting to turn the conversation from the sword. “They say you are becoming an Immortal. They say you will be coming back to Penhaligon.”
A light seemed to dawn on Flinn’s face, and his smile deepened. “Yes, the bards sing the truth. I am coming back, Johauna. I am coming back to you, to fight by your side.”
“When?” Jo asked, the word little more than a breathless gasp on her lips. But the crystal was dark, and the image was gone.
Chapter XII
After camping for the night, the five riders reached Threshold midafternoon of the next day. Braddoc’s pony, who had picked up a stone that had badly bruised his hoof, was on the verge of exhaustion, and Carsig still hadn’t recovered from the strain of escaping the sinkhole. The two mules and Dayin’s pony also seemed weary. Only Karleah’s gray mare and Brisbois’s piebald seemed still fresh. Jo realized she had misjudged Brisbois’s choice in horseflesh; although the mare’s conformation left much to be desired, the paint was a game creature.