Quester sat erect and clamped his mouth closed. He nodded for Shell to continue.
The words tumbled from him. He told of the messenger network, the interrupted invasion, King Ember’s failed attack on Castle Warrington, and all he remembered of the Dragon Clan. He told Quester of the journeys of Camilla, Dancer, and the others. He repeated all he could of Raymer’s bonding with a dragon, and Anna’s venture to gather Dragon Clan to travel to Breslau.
He talked until almost dark when they paused long enough to gather firewood. They sat and chewed on cold venison strips as Quester asked questions and Shell did his best to answer. Eventually, the questions came slower, and Shell tired of talking and needed rest, Quester, sat watching the small fire and thinking.
Quester said, “In my family, there is a saying about the soldiers in the King’s Army building large bonfires and how they sit well away from them at night. The Dragon Clan builds small fires and sits close.”
“What does that mean?”
“I’m not sure, but I remember that story from before they killed my people. I think it means you can be just as warm with a small fire if you sit closer. It’s unnecessary to build a large fire some of the time. My family did not desire to rule the world or build great structures. I think it is about a way of life.”
Shell waited, then when nothing further came, he asked, “You have a point?”
“Well, yes. A few days ago, I didn’t have a family. Today you revealed, we are related, and that I have hundreds or even thousands of family members. People who believe like me. People who build small fires. Then, you tell me they are attacked by a king and invaders from across the sea.”
“I understand you, so far.”
“I want to help with the fight. I want to travel with you to Breslau.”
Shell’s eyes closed as if shutting Quester out. He said, “I can’t let you do that.”
Quester stood. “You can’t stop me from doing what I want.”
“Wait, that came out all wrong. I didn’t make myself clear,” Shell said, “We’ll go together, that is part of why I’m here. But first, I must take you to the Bear Mountain Family. You’ll share what you know. That will help all of us much more than having one more fighter for a few days. After you tell your story, we can continue to Breslau.”
“Why is it so important? What can the people of Bear Mountain do that’s so important?”
“Messengers. The council will listen, and then they send out two or three messengers to other Families, and those Families will send out their messengers to repeat the information until all know the story about more of our people living in the east. I expect messengers will also be dispatched to locate the Dragon Clan to the east to tell them about us. We have to pull together before the Dragon Masters of Breslau invade our land, kill us and our dragons because they will then move on to your lands.”
“You can’t know they will do that.”
“And you can’t know they won’t.”
Quester’s shoulders slumped. “Alright. We’ll do what you say, but after Bear Mountain, I will go to Breslau even if I do it alone.”
“Agreed.” Shell thought about putting his hand out to shake but was too tired. He closed his eyes for the final time until morning.
Before the sun tinged the grasslands pink again, he woke with a start. Danger. The single word filled his mind. He sat up, throwing the covers back violently.
Quester lay beside him, still asleep. Shell’s mind was still foggy from sleep, but deep in his mind the word resonated and repeated, like a long continuous growl. Ddaannggeerrrr. It was the voice of the wolf.
He shook Quester’s shoulder. “Wake up.”
Quester sat up, his hand reaching for his knife. What is it?”
“Danger,” Shell said no more, but he gathered his belongings and soon stood with his pack on his back, his bow over his shoulder. Then he kicked the coals aside and used his foot to cover the ashes with dirt.
Quester had his things ready, too. He hissed, “What is it?”
The wolf was slowly coming closer, from the direction they intended to travel as if following or stalking something. Shell pointed to the trees downhill. “That way.”
Without another word, Quester took the lead.
Shell said, “No, you follow. You’re better at this than me. Make sure we leave no trace to follow.”
A wary expression and slight hesitation told of Quester’s confusion, but he obeyed. Shell moved quickly down the hillside and up another, using a game trail most of the way. He kept the location of the wolf foremost in his mind, and as they reached the top of that hill, he pulled to a stop where they could see their old campsite.
The wolf was now in an almost direct line past the campsite, although he couldn’t see it in the growing light of dawn. However, Quester’s hand reached out and gripped his wrist, his eyes locked on a dark shadow moving along their intended path. It was a man. No, there were two. Three.
Three people spread out and moved quietly in the early dawn. They crept from shadow to shadow, as if knowing exactly where the camp was located and what they would find there. About a hundred steps from the camp, all three paused at a signal from the one in the center.
Quester’s grip tightened. Shell had forgotten he still held him. But he didn’t object. He watched them creep closer, and as the first light appeared, he saw their hands held in the positions they would if they held weapons, probably spears. If the sun rose higher, he had no doubt he’d see the sparkle of sunlight on iron.
They moved in unison, side by side, closer and closer to the campsite. Then, as one, they rushed ahead. All three reached the dead fire and stood in confusion, obviously talking. They spread out again in the increasing light, searching for tracks. It didn’t take long to find them.
One looked to where the trucks traveled, and his gaze searched the hillside where Shell and Quester stood. Shell felt naked and exposed, but Quester hissed, “Stay still. He can’t see us unless we move.”
“I think those are the highwaymen from the river.”
“They should have let you pass when they had the chance. Look what they brought on themselves,” Quester said. He slipped his bow from his shoulder and strung it.
Shell glanced around and found there were several places to hide in ambush. When the three reached them, and he had no doubt they would, he and Quester could each fire an arrow from so close they wouldn’t miss, then take on the third man. Quester would probably take down two of them with his archery skills.
As he was planning, a flurry of motion at the campsite caught his attention. A brown blur appeared from the brush, raced at the three men, and disappeared into the forest as quickly as it appeared. As fast as that, two of the men were on the ground screaming in pain while the only one standing held a knife and spear in front of himself to defend from another attack.
“What happened?” Shell asked softly, his voice emerging as a croak.
“You tell me,” Quester said.
“Something attacked them. Lucky for us, we left.”
Quester still watched the campsite, but when he turned to look at Shell, he said, “Yes, we were lucky to wake up from a sound sleep and know silent enemies were getting near. Very lucky, if you ask me.”
Shell said, “I think I must have heard them out there and it woke me.”
Quester turned and started walking again. “Yes, I’m sure that’s what happened.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Quester remained quiet all morning. Shell allowed him to sulk because he had a good reason. While Quester didn’t know exactly what had happened when they woke, he didn’t believe the weak story Shell had fed him. Just as the trust issue between them almost healed itself, a new breach appeared that Shell didn’t know how to resolve, mostly because he didn’t understand it himself.