A boy no older than four ran into the group eager to confront the newcomers with his thousand questions. He pulled to a stop in front of Quint, looking up with amazement. When Quint smiled, the boy blurted, “Do you want to see my back?”
Quint knelt and nodded. The boy spun and pulled his shirt up.
“Now that is about the best-looking dragon I’ve ever seen.”
“I’ve never seen it because I can’t see my back,” the boy giggled.
“Is there a mirror in the village?”
“I don’t know what that is. Do you want to see my puppy?”
The warrior who had attended the council was returning, leading two horses while another led the third. Quint told the boy he’d return and play with the puppy, but had to leave. Raymer was struck again at how large Quint was. Next to the boy he was a tree to a shrub, but the difference in size did not scare the boy.
It would scare any opponent. Raymer looked at the horses, suspicious about the quality of the animals the warrior would select. All were prime animals, two bays, and a chestnut. All mares, with sleek coats and they, almost danced in anticipation of riders. They wore saddles and bridles, and the woman called Robin returned with a sack. She held it out to Quint.
“Food. Traveling food,” She said.
A boy just growing a beard, the one they called Brix was carrying a load of clothing in his arms. He paused in front of Raymer. “Clothes. I think they’ll fit. They have to be better than what you have on. We have a few larger men in our village.”
Raymer tossed his head at Quint. “As big as him?”
Brix nodded. “Almost.”
They changed where they stood. To the surprise of all three, the clothing did fit. Ander was easy, of course. He was a normal size. Raymer found his were slightly large, still better than he’d worn in a year. But Quint’s were almost a perfect fit. Raymer glanced around, not seeing anyone to fit the large clothing. I wouldn’t have wanted to have the owner of those snooping around my camp in the middle of the night.
Stiff, heavy woven green cloth and soft leather made the clothes almost look like uniforms. All were well worn and patched, and all would blend into the background of the high mountains.
Raymer felt tears of thanks and relief threatening, so to divert the flood, said, “What can you tell us about the way?”
The warrior pointed east. “You will follow a trail up that valley.”
“To where?”
“Don’t worry. I’ll catch up with you soon after we get a couple more horses from the high pasture.”
Raymer said, “I should have figured that out before now.”
The man turned on his heel and walked away, his temper held in check. Myron said, “He’ll make sure you take the best route, and if need be he’ll protect you.”
Raymer mounted and said, “I have been headed to this village for a full year. I’ll be back.”
“Good luck on your mission,” Myron said, and others of the group smiled or nodded. A few other villagers had arrived at the council ring to gawk at the visitors, but most watched from afar, sensing the importance of the meeting.
Raymer took in the village, again. The homes were sturdy with steep roofs for the heavy winter snows. Stacks of firewood reached the rooflines, and sheep, goats, cows and pigs were in fenced off areas or pens. However, the entire village gave a sense of temporary occupation, a lack of permanence. The homes were little more than huts, and while the area was clean and orderly, there seemed an air about it that said everyone could disappear overnight.
Ander stood beside the young man Brix, another outsider. Brix looked like he was telling Ander how he’d come to live with the Dragon Clan, but spoke quickly because Quint was mounted and ready to ride. Raymer turned his horse and kicked his heels. The bay responded as if they were old friends, as it leaped ahead and galloped across a meadow and found the trail with little help.
The valley looked much the same as the other side of the mountain, with the exception the general slope was downward, although there were still many hills. Raymer heard the hooves of the two horses behind and didn’t bother to turn his head. He pushed the horse to maintain a ground-eating pace.
A good part of the day lay ahead and already his bottom felt sore. Raymer shifted positions and half-stood in the stirrups.
The man he thought of as a warrior would probably catch up with them soon, and he’d make a comment about how slow they traveled. He urged his horse faster. The animal was fresh and light on its feet. It sprinted ahead.
Later, rounding a bend in the trail, he found two men waiting. The warrior and a younger man who looked no older than Raymer. As one, they spun their horses and took up positions at the lead.
Must have taken a shorter trail. The warrior had rolled his eyes when they came into view, letting them know how long he had supposedly been waiting. Well, let him be the first to wish to rest. Raymer shifted his butt in the saddle again. He would not beg to stop.
The afternoon wore on, the five of them dipping into valleys and pausing long enough to grab a handful of food while the horses drank. Few words were passed between them, but it became clear when they turned off the main trail that the warrior knew a shorter route.
They camped just after sundown in a grove of cedars. Insects generally do not like cedar or the scent of it, so it was a better selection than it appeared at first glance.
Raymer hobbled his horse and made the fire, still without speaking. Finally, when all were sitting nearby, he turned to the warrior and asked. “Your name?”
“Dancer.”
“You don’t like us?” Raymer asked, expecting a rude response.
Dancer hesitated as if going to lie and deciding to tell the truth. “I don’t want to like you. Killing friends is harder than those you don’t know.”
Quint chuckled and faced him. “Killing Ander will be hard in itself because Raymer is sworn to protect him.”
Dancer said, “And then there is you.”
“Well, yes, there is that, too,” Quint said, using his soft voice.
Ander spoke for the first time all afternoon. “Why would you kill us?”
“To protect the clan.”
“There are two of you and three of us,” Ander said.
“That is just to make it fair,” Dancer said, without a trace of humor.
Raymer glanced at the group after stirring the fire, then turned to the younger guide. “And what is your story?”
“I’m called Fleet. He’s my father.”
Raymer turned back to Dancer, “How long to get to Northwood?”
“Tomorrow. Late.”
Raymer created a mental map in his mind. The armies sneaking into Northwood had an easier route and shorter distance. However, they wouldn’t travel on fast horses, nor light. They would not want to advertise their presence and lose the advantage of surprise.
It sounded like a wash. Longer distance and longer to travel on horses against slower travel and a shorter distance. The problem was that if Northwood didn’t have time to organize a defense, they still lost the battle.
“I want to leave early in the morning. Before daylight.” Raymer said.
“We’ll leave when I say we will,” Dancer said.
Raymer stood and kicked dirt on the fire while turning his back to Dancer and his son. Turned away from them, he said, “Then you can try to catch up with us tomorrow and you won’t have any shortcuts to take this time.”
He watched Quint’s eyes. They would warn him while his back was turned. If either of them made an aggressive movement, he’d leap aside, but none came. These two are supposed to help us. Raymer headed for his rolled blanket.