The thief had been very, very good. With skill, cunning, carefully arrayed magic and a good element of luck he had managed to penetrate the crypt beneath the Capital where the most dangerous treasures of the Council were stored.
In the end it had not been the Council that had caught him. When the vault’s magic detectors screamed and guards and wizards came rushing to investigate, they found the thief already dead, his throat torn out by the guardian the original owner had set upon the thing he had come to steal.
The object of the daring raid had been a chest imprisoning a demon of the sixth order, a thing powerful enough but not so unusual as to attract the close scrutiny of the Mighty The real treasure was in the hidden drawer in the bottom of the chest. What the compartment contained was well worth scrutiny.
"I had heard of the thieving of course," Cormac told her as they toiled up the steep trail toward the foreboding summit, "but I had not known what was in the compartment."
"A parchment," Shiara said. "A map and a note that a very old and very great treasure of magic lay somewhere in a cave near the top of this mountain."
"So we come hotfoot deep into the Wild Wood to stir up something which has lain undisturbed for aeon and on," Cormac said. "Better, I think, to leave it lie. Sufficient unto the day are the evils thereof, Light."
Shiara smiled thinly. "This evil’s day has come it seems. Someone knew of the map and we have strong reason to believe that that someone now knows at least generally what the map had to say. We think someone was looking through the eyes of our thief when he died."
Cormac grunted. "So it is a race then." He looked up at the summit with its wreath of grey-black clouds.
"A race," Shiara agreed. "Although we may have lost already."
"You sense something?"
"No, but I can use my head as well as my magic. Whoever sent that thief had more time to prepare than we did. If the League knew generally what was on that parchment they could easily have been ready to move."
"So that is why we were sent upon the Wizard’s Way. I mislike this, Light. If the League are ahead of us it means a meeting battle. Those are always chancy and I have the feeling we would be outnumbered."
"I doubt any of the factions of the League Council would be left out of such an enterprise, so I cannot argue with you. But what would you? There were no others in the Capital fit for such a mission and we dared not delay." She looked up the trail. "We can only hope we are in time."
As they worked their way up the steep slopes the forest changed around them. The great oaks and beeches gave way to pine and firs and thick green rhododendrons. Here and there outcrops of dark rock poked through the thinning soil, more and more of it as they climbed.
The air changed about them as well, growing cooler and dank with the glacier’s breath. There was a dampness in the air that hinted fog and even in full daylight the mists moved the horizons closer. The mountain loomed over them and they had to crane their necks further and further back to see the snow-clad summit.
They were almost to the treeline when Cormac pulled even with Shiara and spoke quietly in her ear. "We’re being followed I think."
Not by look or action did Shiara show she had heard. "How many?"
Cormac shook his head. "Not many. Not creatures born to the woods either."
"The League? The ones who set the thief?"
"Possibly."
Shiara stopped and closed her eyes. With intangible eyes and ears she searched for signs of magic about them. She did not dare risk active magic so close to something so powerful.
"Ahhh," she breathed at last. "The League indeed. But one man only. Luck may be with us, my Sun. I think this is a private quest, not an expedition sent by the League Council."
"You know this man?"
"He is called Toth-Ra, a minor wizard."
"Is he dangerous?"
"Like an adder. Small and puffed with malice."
"And we seek a dragon yonder." Cormac jerked his head toward the snow-covered heights. "Well, Light, what say you?"
"I say leave him for now. He cannot do us much harm and I will need everything I have for lies above."
Well behind the pair Toth-Ra toiled up the slope. He puffed as he came and stopped to rest frequently both because he was unused to exertion and because he did not want to tread too closely on the heels of the two Northerners ahead of him.
A pretty train this, he thought, like ants following a scent trail.
Even further above, he knew, was the party sent by the League to obtain the treasures of the mountain. A group of black robes and apprentices, carefully balanced to represent each faction of the League council. After them the two from the Council of the North. And finally, himself, representing naught but his own interests.
Like a jackal following lions. He smiled sourly. Well enough. For when lions fight, jackals win.
Toth-Ra had little doubt these lions would fight. Even without the Northerners, the very richness of what lay above guaranteed that.
And if perchance he was wrong? If the fragile coalition that governed the League could hold together under the pressure of the indescribable wealth and power from this hoard? Well, there would still be crumbs for a clever jackal to gather.
With his face set in an unaccustomed smile, Toth-Ra continued his climb.
Shiara and Cormac were almost to the tree line when they heard a noise. The trail paralleled a cliff here and a thin moan came from a clump of bushes off the trail off the cliff side.
Cormac drew his sword, but Shiara moved instinctively to the sound of a creature in pain. She thrust through the narrow band of bushes that lay between them and the cliff face.
"Cormac, come here."
As Cormac breasted through the brush he saw a twisted shape like a small man lying on the rocks. Obviously it had fallen from the cliff above them.
"It’s a wood goblin," Cormac siad, looking over it. "Leave the poor creature."
Shiara shook her head. "He has a soul and so deserves succor."
"Have we time to do this?"
She looked up at him. "Have we time not to?"
Gently she moved the twisted broken body off the blood-smeared rocks and placed it carefully on a patch of grass. Quickly the wizardess spread out a collection of healing implements and set to work.
Shiara labored the chance-found creature as if it were one of her own. She chanted and muttered, made passes with her silver wand and sprinkled the body with herbs and powders.
As Cormac watched the wounds scabbed over and began to close. The twisted limbs straightened and the bones within them knit. The little creature’s breathing slowed and became more regular. At last it relaxed and began to snore sonorously.
"Now what?" Cormac asked as Shiara turned away fro the sleeping goblin.
"He needs rest and a chance to rebuild his strength. In another day or two he will be fine, but now…"
"We do not have a day or two to give over to nursing him. Have you forgotten what brought us here?"
"No, I have not forgotten. But he," she nodded to the creature, "will be awake soon and we can ask where his tribe is. I will have to rest a bit in any case." She finished packing her kit and sat down heavily beside her patient.
It was less than an hour later that the wood goblin stirred, moaned and opened his eyes. He started and tried to rise at the sight of the two humans, but Shiara placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Rest now," she told him. "We’re friends." The goblin looked dubious but settled back. "I am Shiara and this is Cormac. What is your name?"
"Ugo. Me Ugo." The goblin’s speech was creaky and slurred but he was understandable.
"Does your tribe live nearby?" Shiara asked.
"Tribe all dead," the little goblin said sadly. "Ugo all alone."