Returning to the camp, Laedron grinned. Marac and Brice had staked the tents in a circle around a proper campfire, and they had unpacked the horses. Incredibly efficient, Laedron thought. He’d only been gone for an hour at most. “Where’d you learn to prepare a camp?”
Marac pulled taut the strap on his pack, then buckled it. “Do you think Meklan Draive would have cut us loose without a handle on survival?”
“No, probably not, but I never expected anything like this.”
“The knights taught us much of combat, but we picked up a few other things.” Marac dragged a fallen log near the fire and sat on it. “How do you take your salted beef?”
Laedron’s stomach rumbled. “How salted?”
“I was assured that they smoked it first, so they would have gone lighter with the salt.”
“Pink, then.”
“You?” Marac asked Valyrie.
“The same.”
Brice poked the fire with a stick. “Should be hot enough now.”
“May want to add to the pile.” Laedron reached for a thick limb.
“No, we have to keep it low.” Marac waved his hand. “The bigger the fire, the more likely we are to be noticed up here.”
“Are we not alone?” Laedron asked.
“I’d rather not find out. We’d be best to take every precaution.” Marac retrieved some metal rods from his pack and poked a few forked sticks into the ground at the fire’s perimeter. Then, he carefully placed the rods across the open flame, creating a makeshift grate.
Laedron said, “Never seen anything like that before.”
“I thought about it on the ship from Azura.” He grinned. “Better than trying to cook on the end of a stick.”
Brice laughed. “I bet you’ll get less of a wood flavor, too.”
“I can’t wait,” Marac said, plopping the beefsteaks over the fire, then he gleefully rubbed his hands together. “It’ll be a welcome change from a handful of nuts here and there.”
Laedron leaned over and inspected the glowing embers. “How long do you think it will take?”
Marac stretched out his legs, crossed them, and leaned back on his log. “Hard to say. When it’s done, it’s done.”
“I should have time to visit the creek, yes?” Laedron asked, the itching inside his shirt insatiable.
Marac shook his head. “No one should go off alone.”
“I thought you weren’t worried. ‘Fret not,’ didn’t you say?”
“That was before we got into the forest proper.” Marac tossed a twig into the fire pit. “Now’s the time to be careful.”
“I’ll go with him,” Brice said. “I’d like to get a drink.”
After searching through a nearby backpack, Marac tossed him a metal canteen. “Drink from that one. When you’re done, fill it up and bring it back. It’ll need to be boiled.”
Laedron led the way down the hill. At the stream’s edge, he could barely see a random flicker from the campfire, and he felt safer knowing that a bandit would have to come close to their shelters to suspect their presence. He removed his shirt and used handfuls of water to wash away the sweat and dirt from his skin.
Brice dipped his towel into the water, then carefully balled it up. Noticing Laedron watching him, he said, “For the morning. I prefer to bathe before the day begins.”
“Good idea.” He dunked his shirt in the water, saving it for later.
The smell of sizzling steak hit him like a wall when he reached the top of the hill, a kind replacement for the musty scent of pine needles and earth. Coming between two of the tents, he heard a metal scraping sound. “It’s just us,” he warned.
Marac took his hand off the hilt of his sword. “Sorry. Just a bit on edge.” He sat on the log.
Laedron joined him at the fire. “I hope you won’t be too high strung to sleep.”
“I thought you might like the honor.” Marac nudged Laedron with his elbow, glancing back and forth between Laedron and Valyrie. “You’ve had nothing to keep you up all night of late.”
Letting out a deep sigh, Valyrie shot up from her seat and headed toward one of the tents. “Despicable.”
“I wish you hadn’t said that.” Laedron tossed a pebble into the fire.
Marac exchanged a concerned look with Brice, then gazed at Laedron again. “Why not? I was just having a bit of harmless fun, Lae.”
Laedron watched Valyrie disappear into the tent. “When we reach the end of our journey, I fear that she may not return home with us.”
“If that’s the case, it wasn’t meant to be,” Brice said, lighting a twig by the fire.
“Oh, and you’re some kind of expert in the matter, Thimble?” Marac rapidly shook his head. “I’ve heard it all now.”
“Just watch what you say. Please, do it for me.” Laedron, not waiting for a response, went to his bedding and tried to get comfortable.
“Looks like I’m first up on watch,” Marac said.
5
Like the others, Laedron took his turn on watch, then slept until the morning rays woke him. He joined Marac by the fire and took some jerky when it was offered. “Should we wake up Brice?”
“Not just now.” Marac turned to look at Brice. “He was the last to sleep, and we can do the packing while he rests.”
Laedron nodded, and he glanced at Valyrie as she emerged from the tent. “Sleep well?”
“I suppose.” She stretched her back, rubbed her side, and sat next to Marac. “It’ll take me some time to get used to sleeping on the ground. Feels like I slept on a root.”
She’s taking this a bit too far, Laedron thought, watching her sitting at Marac’s side. Is she trying to irritate me, or does she desire a change?
Marac stood, then began taking down his tent. “According to the map, we can make Laslo by nightfall. If they have an inn, you’ll be spared the discomfort.”
After helping Marac dismantle the tent, Laedron did the same to the other, then carefully packed his belongings onto his horse. With all the commotion, Brice woke from his slumber, dagger in hand, as if he’d had a bad dream. He quickly returned the knife to its sheath, then rose.
“Antsy?” Laedron asked, looking over at Brice while strapping his bedroll to his horse.
“Noises in the night. I never worry about them when I’m behind a locked door, but out here, every creak and rustle puts me on edge.” Brice cleared his throat and straightened his clothes, then worked on packing his own gear.
Once the horses were loaded and the campfire had been stamped out, they mounted up and followed Marac to the road. Seemingly without a second thought, Marac took off across the bridge, leading them over the stream and into the thick wood beyond. Although the sun had risen and taken its place high in the sky, the canopy over the road made it seem like dusk. To Laedron, traversing the bridge and entering the wood seemed like crossing over into a whole other world, a place of danger and unknowing.
Like the previous day, Laedron heard little more than hoof beats on the trail, for he and his party didn’t speak. With the little survival training he’d had, he knew that engaging in conversation would dull their wits, making them less alert to their surroundings, and give away their position to anyone nearby who might be listening. It made the traveling harder, though, and they rode until noon without as much as a word between them.
“Whoa,” Marac whispered, pulling on his reins to stop his horse. He leaned forward in his saddle, squinting at the path ahead.
Laedron stopped next to him. “What do you see?”
“Something blocking the road. Either that or it turns suddenly. Hard to tell.”
Closing his eyes, Laedron listened to the forest, trying his best to ignore the horses’ idle stirrings. The fluttering of wings. Chirping of birds. “We can only go forward from here. ‘Tis the only road to Laslo.”
“Keep your eyes and ears open,” Marac whispered, turning to Brice. “Be ready for anything.”
Like Marac, Brice pulled the shield from his back and affixed it to his arm, then Marac inched forward, peering at either side as he went. When they reached the block in the road, Laedron climbed down from his horse. A huge pine several feet in diameter had fallen there, prohibiting passage beyond that point.