Cormac grunted in sympathy. Unlike their large cousins the hobgoblins, wood goblins lived in closely knit groups. A wood goblin whose tribe had perished had little to live for and scant chance of surviving.
"I am sorry," Shiara said. "Now rest here for a while and you will feel better." She rose and signaled Cormac that she was ready to move on.
"Wait, Lady," cried Ugo. The little creature scrambled painfully up and knelt in front of her. "Take me with you. I serve you, Lady," the goblin pleaded. "Let me stay and serve you."
Cormac looked at Shiara. The last thing they needed was a servant of any sort, much less an ailing wood goblin. But refusing would surely doom him. Without a substitute for his tribe the little creature had no will to live.
Shiara reached down and put a hand on the goblin’s head. "Very well, Ugo. We accept your service." His ugly face glowed and he looked up adoringly at Shiara.
"Here is your first task, Ugo, and it is an important one. We go to the top of this mountain on a mission from the Council of the North. If we are not back in three sunsets," she held up three fingers for emphasis, "you must make your way to the Fringe and contact the Council. Tell them we have failed and others must be sent to complete the business. Do you understand?"
"Yes, lady. Wait three sunsets. If you not back, go tell Council."
"Then wait for us here, Ugo. Do not follow. Rest and stay out of sight. we should be back in three days and if not, the message must reach the Council."
"Yes, Lady. Ugo wait."
"Do you really think the wight can get through the Wild Wood if something happens to us?" Cormac asked once they were out of earshot.
Shiara shrugged. "Probably not. But it gives him a reason to live and a sense of his own worth. We will be done in less than three days."
"Much less, I hope," said Cormac, scowling at the mountain jutting above them.
Evening found them above the tree line, halfway across a jumbled field of boulders. There was no snow but the air was cold and the wind keen and sharp. They used the faggots they had gathered on their climb through the forest to build a fire in a place where two great boulders leaned together and provided shelter from the winds.
"Our follower?"
"Camped down in the trees. He apparently plans to gain the summit in a single push tomorrow."
"By which time, luck willing, we will have completed our business and be away."
"Luck willing," Shiara agreed.
Their evening meal was barley porridge flavored with dried meat. It was quickly eaten, but neither made a move to bed down. Instead they sat, staring into the fire and enjoying the warmth reflecting off the boulders.
"Light, would you have chosen this life," Cormac asked her. "Could you have chosen freely, I mean?"
Shiara stared into the flames. "I do not know," she said at last. "Being a wizardess is not a free choice. You are born gifted and you try to build your life around it." She lifted her head and looked at him. "And you? Did you choose freely?"
He laughed easily. "Oh, aye. Even as a child I had a taste for trouble. Mine was a free choice." He sobered. "As freely as any man can choose, at least. I had no hand for farming and I did not want to starve."
"Do you regret it?"
Cormac shook his head. "We’ve had a good run, lass. We’ve had some fine times and our fame will live after us. But there are times I miss the things I have not had."
"A home?" She asked with a little smile. "And children?"
"The rest, aye. And children, perhaps. I was an only child you know. My line dies with me."
Shiara laid her fingertips on his shoulder. "That could still be," she said softly.
"Perhaps. But I’m an old horse to break. I suppose it’s a matter of making choices and then regretting that in making them we give up other things." He picked up a stick and poked the fire with it idly. "I chose the sword road because it promised honor and fame. I have had all that, so I cannot complain of a bargain unfulfilled."
"Did duty have no role in your choosing?"
Cormac grinned. "Oh, a mite. But I remember the day you came to the parade ground seeking a guardsman to cover your back while you burgled some trinkety bit of magic. I saw you and decided none other would be your quest companion." He shook his head. "There were one or two others who were minded to volunteer, but I convinced them otherwise."
"So you presented yourself to me the next day with knuckles bloody." Shiara smiled at the memory. "But was it only my beauty?"
"Well, I always have been a frippery fellow, Light. With never your fine, serious purpose."
"Mock me if you will, but we do important work." She sighed. "I do not know what I would have chosen had I been free to choose. But I had a talent for this and a head for the proper sort of spells. The job needed doing, desperately, so here I am."
"And you regret it?"
Shiara shook her head and the ends of her silvery hair danced in the firelight. "No. My bargain has been fulfilled as well." She smiled at him. "I have had all that and love as well."
Cormac reached over and squeezed her hand. "We’ve had more luck than any two mortals deserve, Light."
Shiara stared into the fire. "It cannot last, you know."
Cormac’s brows arched. "A premonition?"
"A thought, rather. It is risky work we do and soon or late it will catch up with us."
A ghost of a cloud crossed Cormac’s brow. "Mayhap," he said easily. "Or mayhap we will both die peacefully in bed." He leered at her. "The same bed, I hope." Shiara reached out and drew him to her.
They made love, desperately and with a bittersweet passion, as if their coupling could erase the whole World and any thought of the morrow.
They found the cave less than three hours after they broke camp the next morning. Above the boulder field ran a steep canyon, cleaving its way toward the mountain’s top. There was a rushing glacial stream, chill and sharp, down the canyon, making the dark rocks slippery and hard to climb.
They came around a twist in the canyon and saw the cave mouth halfway up the cliff. There was a boulder-strewn ledge leading up from the canyon floor, making a natural pathway. The cave entrance itself was dark, jagged and about as inviting as the mouth of Hell.
"Wait," hissed Shiara and put her hand on Cormac’s bicep. She pointed a little downslope from the mouth of the cave.
There was a flash of white against the dark rock, like the branches of a dead and barkless tree. Cormac squinted and caught his breath. They were bones, not branches and from their shape and size they could only be the bones of one thing.
"A dragon," Cormac said quietly. "A dragon died here, and not a small one, either."
"Dragons prefer caves as lairs," Shiara said. "It would appear that this one chose the wrong resting place."
"It did not die naturally." Cormac pointed with his blade. "Look at the way the ribs are smashed. But what could do that to a grown dragon?"
"The sort of creature which would be set to guard a great treasure," Shiara said gravely.
"And you think it is still there, Light?"
"A thing which could slay a dragon would not be expected to have a short life."
Cormac scanned the ledge and the cave mouth again. "There are no other bones. Surely other things would have tried to lair here from time to time."
"Perhaps they did not arouse the guardian. Dragons are more intelligent than most animals. And greedier than most men. Or perhaps whatever is within is careful to dispose of its refuse so as not to warn others."
"Hmm. A pretty problem then." Cormac backed warily out of sight of the cave mouth and settled on a rock. "Do you sense magic?"
Shiara wrinkled her nose. "Like smoke in a hut in wintertime. It is everywhere and strong. There is a blocking spell to confine the emanations, but this near I can feel it pressing. Whatever is within that mountain is powerful indeed." She shivered. "And malign!"