“Where are we?” He asked as he went to the Dungeon Master.
“If the guards, or whoever the King sent after us, did what I think, they’ll wait at either end of this canyon for us ride to them. They’ll set their traps a day from here in either direction. When we don’t come, they’ll start to close the jaws of their trap.” He pointed down the valley and continued, “There’s a small trail made long ago that descends into that thing.”
“You’ve traveled it?”
“Of course not. Do I look crazy?”
Raymer had to laugh. He looked behind and saw a faint rise of dust in the distance. He judged the pursuers to be so far off they might not reach the canyon until dark. “It looks like they may have split into three groups.”
Quint scowled as he confirmed the sighting and studied the dust. “No more than six of them, I think.”
Six? How can you tell that from so far away? The Dungeon Master groaned again. Raymer quickly untied him and helped him to the ground where he stood on wobbly legs. “Take it easy, you were hurt when the wall fell on you.”
“I remember. I thought I’d die when those iron bars hit me,” he moaned.
“You can thank Raymer for wasting our escape-time to rescue you.” Quint pointed down the sharp edge of the cliff again, “The trail shouldn’t be too far that way.”
The Dragon Master swayed, and his eyes were glazed. “Who?”
“Don’t worry,” Raymer said. “Just mount up and we’ll tell you everything. Are you hurt?”
“No. You’re prisoners. You should both be in cells.”
Quint still sat in his saddle, and he leaned closer, “I think you’re mistaken about those two items, sir.”
The Dungeon Master quieted. He accepted a lift to his saddle and rode loosely as if he might fall at any time, but at each sway, he wavered and caught himself. His balance quickly improved, and his cheeks flushed as he lost the deathly pallor he’d worn earlier.
Raymer continued to hold his position as the last in line as Quint led the way again. They took it slow and allowed the horses to pick their own way across the rocky ground, circling around sprawls of cactus and jumbles of rock. An injured horse would cause them to travel even more slowly. The canyon wall opposite, in the far distance, appeared more red than tan, and he caught several sparkles of what could only be a river flowing down the bottom of the valley.
A slight tingle on his back instantly drew his attention. Without being obvious, he scanned the sky and found a black dot circling where he judged the palace to be located. The dragon then turned and flew in his direction. Raymer watched it approach until he realized it would lead an army to him. Fly home, my friend.
While he couldn’t be sure, it looked like the dragon was black. At the palace had been a red. But it was probably just because of the distance.
“Where are we?” the Dragon Master asked.
When Quint didn’t answer Raymer quickly said, “West of the palace. If you look hard, you can see the Raging Mountains over there.” A single glance behind ensured the dragon had turned away. The reaction of Quint and the Dragon Master to the dragon’s appearance was uncertain.
They traveled in silence until the Dungeon Master’s dull voice asked, “Am I your prisoner?”
“Well, yes, I guess you are. Hostage might be a better explanation. Not that we intend to hurt you,” Raymer said. “We just wanted to escape, and it seemed a good idea to bring you along.”
Quint spoke without turning his head. “What you are is an accidental hostage. You were hurt and unconscious. That idiot riding behind you insisted we rescue you before escaping. You can imagine how upset I’d be if our escape failed because of him taking the time to drag your sorry ass out of the flames.”
“Call me Ander. I’m not a very good Dungeon Master, it seems. You talk as if you don’t like Raymer.”
“Only two reasons to talk about a man like that. Maybe it’s because I don’t know him too well. Or perhaps it’s because I do.” Quint laughed again, throwing his head back and roaring at his own joke.
Raymer said, “The air is dusty, gritty, and my eyes sting. My butt hurts, and I have a dozen cuts and scrapes. It’s the best I’ve felt in a year.”
“May the three gods advise me. My head hurts with every step the horse takes. I know my thinking’s slow, but I don’t understand these two men,” the Dungeon Master stated, not speaking to either of them, but speaking loud enough for all to hear.
They chuckled at him, and Quint turned his horse to the left and followed a faint trail that led directly to the edge of the cliff. He climbed down and walked stiff-legged to peer over. “Here it is.”
Raymer joined him. A ledge wound down the side of a steep cliff, often no wider than his shoulders. The surface was strewn with loose rocks and sand. One slip promised a long fall. “I won’t ride a horse down there.”
“Me neither,” Quint agreed. “I knew it was supposed to narrow, but that’s not what I had in mind.”
Raymer turned to the rear and saw men on horses in the distance. They had gained half the distance in the time it took to locate the trail. If Quint was right, there were troops on their left, more on their right, and those closing in from behind. Another dungeon or take the path?
Raymer said, “I say we go down. I’d rather fall to my death than go back and rot in that cell.”
Quint nodded and started untying the blanket holding their supplies the old woman provided. Raymer gathered the blankets and shirts in his arms. He looked for anything of value on the horses and realized they were so worn out from the trip they couldn’t have carried them much further on level ground, let alone the narrow trail down the side of the canyon.
“We’ll let you wait here for your people,” Raymer said to Ander. “If that’s agreeable with Quint.”
“Good by me. We don’t need him slowing us down or trying to betray us at every turn. Didn’t want to bring him anyhow.”
“Where are you two going?” The Dungeon Master quickly asked.
“Pumping us for valuable information, are you?” Quint said, spreading the blanket and taking a quick inventory as he split the contents into two equal portions for carrying.
Raymer said, “It’s no secret. We’re heading beyond the Raging Mountains to Quint’s home. We’ll be far away from here where there’s help for us. I’ll get word to my people somehow, but don’t expect to ever see us again.”
The Dungeon Master sat on a rock and cradled his chin on his palms, his eyes closed. He opened them and looked at the far-off mountains. “I’ve never been there.”
Quint paused and stared at him. “Are you asking to go with us?”
“I don’t like being in that damned Dungeon any more than you. My father made me take the dirty job. Let me go with you and if you get caught, I’ll play the part of a hostage.”
He had the full attention of Quint and Raymer.
“I pledge you my word. Let me travel with you and see something of the world instead of the insides of the dungeon walls. You may not realize it, but I was every bit as much a prisoner like you.”
“Your word?” Quint asked. “No conditions?”
“One condition.”
Quint snarled, “Which would be?”
“You address me as Ander. Never call me the Dungeon Master again.”
Raymer relaxed and smiled as Quint stuck out his hand to shake. Quint said, “We’re not your lackeys . . . Ander. You do a third of the work or go hungry. Grab those blankets from Raymer so he can carry this.” He held out a second blanket filled with food.
Raymer said, “I’ll go first.”
He held onto the four corners of the blanket where it was tied and tossed the heavy middle over his shoulder like a farmer carrying a sack of vegetables. It didn’t weigh too much and was not as unwieldy as he feared. One last look behind revealed those chasing them were closer than he liked, and their horses were galloping as fast as able. A few of the men had already pulled swords and waved them in the air. Faint shouts grew louder.