“But why would Verdilith think you’d be in Bywater?” Jo asked, removing her own hands from Flinn. “That doesn’t make sense.”
“It does if you know that my home was destroyed the day before,” Flinn answered through clenched teeth. “It makes perfect sense if you know I have no supplies and have to head for the nearest town to get them.”
Jo shook her head. “I don’t understand. How would Verdilith…?” Her voice trailed off as dread welled up within her.
Flinn nodded. “Sir Brisbois.” Jo caught Flinn’s expression in the light of the campfire, and she shivered in fear. The man continued, “The death of Bywater is on my hands now, Jo.” He shook his head when she protested. “They were killed because of me.”
Jo watched Flinn’s face in the firelight, then took his hands in hers and waited for him to look at her. “Flinn, your death would have meant nothing to the people of Bywater. With you still alive there is the chance for goodness to redeem itself. There is the chance of vengeance,” she said slowly, her eyes locked on his. “It’s the only thing I can offer you. Their deaths will not be in vain if you slay Verdilith.”
Flinn pulled her to him and wrapped his arms about her, but Jo knew he wasn’t aware of what he was doing. He stroked her braid and whispered, “Verdilith and Brisbois will both pay for the death of Bywater, Jo—and for the death of my honor.”
Chapter X
The storm broke by morning. The trio left the ravine, heading once more for higher ground. Ariac had recovered from the grueling pace they had maintained yesterday, though Flinn had to fashion new leather pads to cushion the griffon’s claws. The additional snow from last night’s storm made travel slow and tiresome, even in the windswept, rocky barrens they now traversed. All the while, they scanned the western hills, neither seeing nor hearing any orcs.
The weather turned cold and clear. The sun, glittering brightly off the snow, did little to warm the travelers. The wind had stopped howling and the chill air was sharp and silent. Flinn found no trace of the orcs’ passing in the deep snow. Flinn, Jo, and Dayin struck northward, glad the Castellan was still in sight and that the orcs were not.
“We travel north,” Flinn said when they stopped at the top of a large hill, “until we see the Broken Arch. It’s a rock formation near the Castellan. There we head west to find Braddoc’s home.”
“If we head west, Flinn, do you think we’ll run into any of the Rooster’s tribe returning home?” Jo asked.
Flinn shrugged. “That’s a chance we’ll have to take, but I think it’s an unlikely one. I think they’re all still in Bywater. Verdilith probably had to threaten them severely to get them down to the village so quickly. They’ll take their time coming back, I’m sure.”
Jo was puzzled. “Just why didn’t they attack us at the ford?”
“My guess is Verdilith told them to move—and move fast. I think he told the orcs not to bother attacking anything north of the river because that would slow them down. Rooster only sent the patrol after his tribe was south of us,” Flinn said, then squinted up at the sun. “Time to move out. If we’re lucky, we’ll be to Braddoc’s by evening.” He gave Ariac a light tap, and they continued down the hill. Both Flinn and Jo kept the western hills under surveillance.
The hours yielded no sign of orcs. Jo felt her guard relax a little, then chided herself. A squire is always on guard to protect her master, she told herself sternly.
The three of them kept up the fastest pace Flinn dared set for Ariac. They reached the Broken Arch at midmorning, and Flinn turned the group west. He led them through the rough countryside, trying to find the easiest path between the twisted hills. At midday, they halted for a brief respite. Jo brought out the dry trail rations and passed them out.
“How much farther, Flinn?” Jo asked. She stood behind him as he checked Ariac’s front claws.
“Another three, maybe four hours,” Flinn grunted, then stood up, rubbing his hands.
“Is Ariac going to make it?” She stroked the griffon’s feathered neck.
Flinn nodded. “Yes, I think so. He’ll have to.” His eyes restlessly roamed the hillsides. “It’s time to go.”
Once again the trio mounted up and continued through the silent, barren Wulfholdes. Johauna realized she hadn’t seen anything moving the entire day. The lack of birds and animals began to worry her, and she wondered if she was the only one who felt that way. Dayin was preoccupied with his own thoughts, and Flinn seemed unconcerned. Jo stilled the feelings inside her. The trio continued to ride, halting only once for a brief stop when Jo’s horse Carsig picked up a rock in his hoof.
Just as twilight fell, they found a stone house sheltered at the base of a craggy cliff. Beside it stood a number of huge red pines, embracing the house with their branches. The pattern of the bark was still visible in the fading light. Smoke curled lazily from the chimney, and a cheery light glowed from the windows. Jo thought she had never seen a more welcoming sight, for she was frozen to her very bones. Her legs were stiff and saddle-sore.
Carsig neighed abruptly at the sight of the corral and the familiar odor of a barn. Two shaggy shapes in the corral looked up with interest and whinnied in response. Jo saw they were large ponies. Ariac squealed, and the ponies nervously shifted to one side of their large corral.
The top half of the door to the stone house swung open. Jo heard the faint click of a trigger mechanism. In the faint light of dusk, she could just barely discern the forward curve of a crossbow.
“Halt!” bellowed someone from the house. “Who or what goes there?”
Flinn pulled Ariac to a stop, and Jo reined in Carsig. Dayin also halted.
“An eye for a brain, a tooth for a mole, and a dwarf for a friend!” Flinn shouted cryptically in return. Flinn dismounted, and Jo and Dayin followed suit.
The person inside the house paused. Then came a huge roar of laughter, which Jo found almost more alarming than the crossbow.
“Flinn!” The bottom half of the door swung inward and a dwarf emerged, his man-sized body swaying above the stocky legs that carried him sturdily up the path.
“Fain Flinn! Flinn the Fallen! By Kagyar, it’s the Fool Flinn!” the dwarf shouted. Jo felt her ire rise at the taunts she was hearing, but Flinn’s laugh set her at ease. He grabbed the dwarf in his arms and then swung him about.
“Braddoc!” Flinn was shouting. “Braddoc of the Cloven Eye! Braddoc, you sorry dwarf!” Flinn laughed again, and Jo and Dayin looked at each other. Neither had ever seen this side of Flinn before.
The man and dwarf continued to chuckle, clasping hands in greeting. Jo studied Braddoc Briarblood, the mercenary who had cajoled Flinn into joining his less-than-honorable lifestyle. Specularum had seen its share of dwarves, and so had Jo. They were far less colorful than elves and, on the whole, a surly lot in Johauna’s opinion. But Braddoc was different: colorful, friendly, and boisterous. A thick scar cut across one eye from the dwarf’s forehead to his smiling cheek—apparently the mark that won him the name “cloven eye”. The eye was milky with the fog of blindness. Much of the rest of his face was hidden by his beard, which was neatly styled into a single braid tucked into the dwarf’s belt. His long hair was braided, too, though in two plaits. He wore a softened leather jerkin belted at the waist with wide, studded leather. Hammered copper cuffs ringed his wrists, making his hands look extraordinarily large. He wore sturdy bear-hide boots, which covered half of his short legs. Jo smiled; she was determined to like this dwarf.
Flinn gestured toward Johauna, and she stepped forward. The dwarf’s intense, almost avaricious scrutiny fell on her, and she was suddenly aware of the dirt and blood on her clothes and the tangled mess her hair had become. How interesting that Braddoc has that effect on me and Flinn doesn’t, she thought quickly.