"What do you think?" Caramon replied. The horse tossed its head as the bridle came off. "I'm setting her free. I can't use her where I'm going."
Grinning, Uwen jogged to his own gelding and began to undo its harness. "You can always take them back with you, if you're worried about them," he told the bard.
Borlos hesitated, then shook his head. "No way. I'm coming too."
Caramon shot the bard an amused glance.
"What can I say?" Borlos replied, shrugging as he walked toward his mare. "I'd rather run across that daemon tree than face Tika if I come back without you or Dez."
They unharnessed the horses, then untied their tethers. As they raised their hands to slap the animals' rumps, however, the horses wheeled and cantered back up the hill, toward the road. Taken aback, Caramon, Uwen and Borlos watched as they climbed the steep slope, then turned north and galloped out of sight.
"Wow," Borlos remarked as the pounding of their hooves faded in the distance. "If I didn't know better, I'd say they knew where they were going."
Caramon considered. He had an inkling they were going back home, and another thought that Trephas had told them to do so. He wondered what Tika would think if they returned, riderless, to the Inn.
He sighed, thrusting the thought aside, and went to gather his gear. "Come on," he said. "They've got enough of a head start as it is."
There were few virgin forests left in Ansalon. Even the homelands of the elves and kender, though idyllic, peaceful places, had been quietly shaped by their sylvan inhabitants. Although dwarves and humans wouldn't recognize them as such, they were civilized.
Darken Wood, however, remained a wild place, utterly untamed. Its black oaks grew close together, their branches mingling to weave a blanket of twig and leaf that stretched overhead for miles. Shadows cloaked the forest floor. Apart from occasional spears of brilliant, golden sunshine, the only light was a dim, green glow. It made everything look as though it lay at the bottom of the sea. Despite the gloom, though, the forest floor wasn't barren. Ferns, saplings and shrubs grew between the oaks' mossy trunks. Fat bees drifted drowsily among white and blue flowers.
There were animals, too. Dozens of different kinds of birds flitted among the boughs, bright-feathered males twittering and swooping to draw the attention of their drab mates. Red squirrels darted up and down the oaks' trunks. Holes beneath the trees marked the burrows of badgers and spiny trevils, who tended to come out at night. Deer moved among the shadows, white tails held high; here and there, bloody gouges scored a tree where a young stag had rubbed the velvety skin off his new-grown antlers.
It wasn't badgers or deer Dezra was thinking about, though; it was the large, brown bear in front of her.
Dezra had seen bears before. They were common in Solace Vale, though those were small and black. She'd never been this close, though-near enough to smell salmon on the great animal's breath. It was, she decided, an experience she could have done without.
She and Trephas had been walking quietly, several leagues from the forest's edge. She'd looked behind them for a moment, and when she turned around, the bear had been there, ambling out of the shadows to sit down before them. That had been several minutes ago; neither Dezra nor the bear had moved since.
Trephas looked at her, nonplussed. "What's the trouble? Why hast thou stopped?"
"You're kidding, right?" Dezra asked through tight lips.
Trephas followed her gaze to the bear, then laughed. "Ah," he said. For such a small sound, it was remarkably condescending. "Of course. I forgot thy kind fear our forest-biethren. Rest easy; the beast means no harm, so long as thou dost not harm him."
"Oh," Dezra said. "That's nice."
The bear yawned, revealing a mouthful of fangs. Trephas was within its reach. If it decided to give him a swat, he'd be lying on the ground in tatters. He turned his back on it, glancing at her. "Come on. We can't wait here all day."
"Crap," Dezra muttered, swallowing. Nervously, she edged forward, making a wide circuit around the bear. In time, she made her way past the animal. She glanced back, and saw it staring at her over its shoulder, its tongue lolling from its mouth.
"See?" Trephas asked. His booming voice made her jump. "He's never met thy kind before-only mine, and the other woodfolk. He doesn't fear us."
"Lovely," Dezra said. "And what if that wasn't just a friendly old bear? What if it had… Crossed? Like the Skorenoi?"
"I would have known," Trephas said magnanimously. "Never fear."
Dezra glanced up at the leaves, her face sour. Above their heads, a pair of jays flapped from branch to branch, squalling. She and Trephas walked on. She didn't ride. Neither of them had enjoyed it very much yesterday, and they were no longer in so great a hurry. He'd assured her, before they set out, that their path would be free of danger. They would walk to the Darkwater River, then follow it downstream and arrive in Ithax two days hence.
Around midday-it was hard to keep track of time, with the sun hidden behind the shifting leaves-she heard a new sound ahead: the babble of a flowing stream. She glanced at Trephas.
"The Darkwater," he said, nodding. "We can stop there and rest, if it pleases thee."
"I don't have to rest," Dezra said pointedly. The idea was appealing, but Trephas's attitude-that if they stopped, it would be to humor her-irritated her. "I can keep up."
He glanced at her, his brow furrowed, and shrugged. "Even so, we should tarry to eat. Our waterskins could use filling, also."
"Suit yourself."
The black oaks yielded to golden willows. The Darkwater snaked among them, shrouded by their drooping branches. Their shadows made it live up to its name, though a cataract foamed white, a ways upstream. Green and blue dragonflies danced above its surface, and fish darted beneath. Dezra knelt at its edge to fill her waterskin, then sat down in the grass and ate the food she'd stolen from the fair. Between mouthfuls, she snuck sips of dwarf spirits from her flask.
She smiled as the liquor warmed her, then glanced toward Trephas. The centaur knelt several yards downstream. As she watched, he plucked a fistful of grass from the ground and tucked it in his mouth. She let out a quick laugh, then looked away, covering her grin with her hand. Sure, he was half horse, but she'd never thought he'd graze like one.
He ate other things, too-some soft cheese from his pouch, plus a few velvety leaves off a bush that grew beside one of the willows. There was another shrub like it near Dezra, and while Trephas wasn't looking she plucked a leaf and put it in her mouth. She spat it out again immediately, grimacing, and downed a swig of dwarf spirits to kill the astringent taste.
Suddenly, Trephas rose to his feet and stared back into the woods, the way they had come. His nostrils flaring, he drew out his bow and strung it.
Dezra twisted to her feet, her hand straying to her sword. "What?" she whispered. "I thought you said there wasn't any danger here."
"There shouldn't be," he answered curtly. "I thought I heard-" He trailed off, then held up a hand. "Wait here. I'm going to have a look."
He crept away, moving among the trees with astonishing stealth. Dezra soon lost sight of him in the shadows. She didn't think to follow. The centaur was too quick. Instead, she hunched beneath a willow, eased her sword out of its scabbard, and waited.
A twig snapped, off to her right. It couldn't have been more than thirty paces upstream. For a moment she glimpsed movement amid the trees, but the shadows were too thick to see more. She looked for Trephas, cursing under her breath, but the centaur was nowhere in sight.
There was a drop down from the grassy riverbank to the stream. She eased herself down, sword in hand, onto the Darkwater's edge. It was slippery with wet clay, but she managed to keep her footing. Hunkering low, she crept silently toward the noise. Carefully, she peered up over the bank, into the brush. There was something there, all right, although she couldn't make it out. It didn't seem to notice her.