Cart gave a sharp nod.
“Don’t let the worgs catch you,” Haldren said. “And keep those two soldiers alive. Dismissed.”
Those two soldiers, Cart thought, striding away from the Lord General. He evidently doesn’t care if Caylen survives.
He summoned the two sergeants and conveyed Haldren’s orders. He asked them to select his scouts, then went to find Caylen. He found the young wizard perched on a rock, flipping the illuminated pages of a slender tome. Caylen looked up as he approached.
He wasn’t sure how to address a wizard of Arcanix, so he got directly to the point. “The Lord General has requested that you assist me on a scouting mission.” Based on Caylen’s earlier outburst, Cart thought it best to present Haldren’s orders as a request.
The wizard raised his eyebrows-surprise, Cart thought. “Scouting? I’m no scout.”
“He believed your magic would be able to locate our destination.”
“Surely his magic is sufficient-”
Cart interrupted him. “The Lord General is in command of this operation and cannot be spared for a scouting mission.” Not surprise-Caylen’s eyes were wide with fear. Cart began to understand Haldren’s disdain of this wizard. “Therefore you are the only one available with the particular skills we require. Skills that, I was led to believe, were the primary reason for your inclusion in the operation.”
Caylen glanced around as though looking for an avenue of escape. “How many… ah, how many of us will there be?”
“Four. You and I, and the two best soldiers we can spare.”
“Will that be enough?”
“It will have to be,” Cart said. “We have been instructed to avoid any engagement with the enemy, so I plan to return as a party of four.”
Caylen slumped, resigned to his fate. “When do we leave?” “Immediately.”
The mission was not Cart’s area of expertise any more than it was Caylen’s, but the sergeants had chosen two fine scouts for the task. Verren and Tesh were more than able to compensate for Caylen’s weakness. They made their way south into the foothills of the Blackcaps with Verren watching for tracks or other signs of the worgs, Tesh taking note of the lay of the land, and Caylen scanning for any great concentration of magical power in the area. Cart actually began to feel extraneous, but he kept his senses alert for any approaching danger, figuring that he was along on the mission primarily to keep the others alive, as Haldren had said. And he intended to keep Caylen alive as well, annoying as the wizard was.
Tesh led them along high ground that provided good vantage points over the valleys below, crawling along the crests of hills and creeping along narrow paths cut into canyon walls. At one point, Verren steered them off-course in order to make a wide circle around an area he said the worgs traveled heavily. Cart couldn’t say whether he was right, but in any case they didn’t encounter any of the demon-wolves. Finally, lying flat on a high bluff with a commanding view, Caylen proved his worth.
“That way,” he said, pointing southeast, toward a narrow canyon.
Tesh looked to Cart, who nodded. “If Caylen says our destination is down there,” Cart said, “that’s the way we go.”
“Captain?” Verren said. “I can’t be sure, but I believe that will lead us into the thick of the worgs.”
Of course it will, Cart thought. Sovereigns forbid this should actually be easy.
“Tesh,” he said, “find us a place where we can see into that canyon without being seen. Verren, stop watching the ground and keep your eyes and ears open for any sign of approaching worgs. Caylen…” He shrugged. “Keep doing what you’re doing, unless you have a better suggestion.”
The wizard looked pale and shook his head.
Tesh found them a path down to the canyon. Motioning for the others to stay back, the scout crawled to the edge and peered down.
“This is definitely the place,” Caylen whispered. “It’s ablaze with magic.”
“Holy Host,” Tesh breathed, scampering back from the canyon’s rim. He got shakily to his feet, white as chalk. “What is it?” Cart demanded.
“They’re everywhere. It’s like a temple down there, all laid out around the canyon wall right below us.”
Cart dropped to the ground and crept forward to see for himself. As his eyes cleared the ledge, he saw what had so disturbed Tesh.
The canyon was indeed alive with worgs. More commanding from this vantage point, though, was what the scout had described as a temple-more like a mosaic laid out as a maze radiating out from the canyon floor directly below him. The lines of the maze were bones, neatly piled, sometimes driven into the ground like stakes. Colored rock marked the pathways between them, clearly distinct from the ground outside the maze.
Shaking his head in bewilderment, he tried counting the worgs. Five, ten, perhaps twenty He lost count when the worgs began to howl.
There was no place to flee except back to the camp, even though Cart was certain the worgs were pursuing them. He sent Verren ahead on the most direct route to warn Haldren of a possible attack and give him some idea of the worgs’ numbers, though he had no idea how many worgs were wandering or patrolling outside the canyon when he did his quick count. While they fled at top speed, Tesh covered their tracks as well as he could and led them along routes he thought the worgs would have trouble following. The worgs kept up their unearthly howl, and though it never sounded any more distant, it also didn’t seem to be getting closer.
Sending Verren ahead was a risk, Cart knew. It meant the worgs would find branching tracks, one of their number splitting off from the other three. He hoped they would follow the larger party, but it was certainly possible that the worgs would split their group as well. He wasn’t sure how smart the demon-wolves were. There was some chance they would follow Verren as a group, reasoning that he would lead them more directly to the new camp.
On the other hand, the worgs probably didn’t need Verren’s help to find the camp. In all likelihood, they were only giving chase because of the thrill of the hunt-and because a small group of scouts seemed like easy prey. Perhaps they were also trying to prevent the scouts’ report from getting back to Haldren.
Cart tried to remain mindful of that mission, even in the midst of their headlong flight. He had a vague sense of the mouth of the canyon, but his attention had been focused on the nearer end, with its strange labyrinth of bones. He knew their objective and had some idea of the strength of their foes, but didn’t yet have a clear sense of the defenses they faced. Haldren would be angrier about an incomplete report than about a renewed worg attack.
Tesh led him and Caylen along a high ridge that afforded some view into the canyon. The valley opened toward a wide mouth, which would make its defense difficult. The worgs would have to spread their defenses thin across the canyon mouth-although their speed meant reinforcements would arrive quickly. And the worgs might make their defense farther up the valley, where it was narrower.
Their path took them out of view of the valley for a while, and then Cart saw the mouth of the valley. He immediately revised his assessment of the worg’s defenses-and their intelligence. Enormous piles of boulders blocked almost the entire canyon mouth, leaving only a narrow gap against the far wall. A gap easily narrow enough to hold with only a few worgs.
He was trying to formulate plans, anticipating Haldren’s questions, when they crested a hill and found their path blocked by three of the enormous demon-wolves. As soon as the wolves saw them, they raised a howl-a howl that was quickly answered from close behind Cart’s party. Cart saw Tesh pale and Caylen jump in alarm, fear written large on both their faces.
“Hold it together,” Cart said. “We need quick thinking, not panic.”
Fear was not so much a physical sensation for Cart as it was for humans, though he felt a slight clenching in his chest. He was incapable of blanching the way Tesh had done, and the phrase “spine-tingling” had always struck him as odd. But he knew fear-the raw, abject terror of the battlefield that makes a soldier swing his weapon in a wild frenzy, trying above all to keep the foe away, as well as the panic that makes him drop his sword and run for his life. Good soldiers learn to control their fear, to rein it in and channel its power into skilled ferocity. Soldiers who couldn’t marshal their fear, who let it control them, ended up dead.