After a time, Larson tired of waiting alone while Gaelinar explored crevices and caverns. A day of travel after a sleepless night made him curt. "Are you looking for something?''
"Yes," Gaelinar said. "When I'm ready, I'll explain what."
Larson sighed. He knew better than to provoke Gaelinar with questions. Exhaustion had settled over him again, and it seemed like too much effort to press his luck.
At length, Gaelinar found a cave which seemed to satisfy him. Its huge, misshapen mouth seemed particularly unwelcoming. A boulder field covered the ground before it, the loose, piled stone riddled with holes and clefts which seemed to drop off into nowhere.
Gaelinar tossed his pack to a flat stone wedged between the cliff face and several boulders. "Camp."
Larson studied the gray infinity of rock in the dim light of evening. The anchoring lichens surely lay dead beneath the blanket of snow, but the bulk of the boulders would hold them in place. The hard, jagged surfaces of rock looked uninviting. If Larson rolled in his sleep, he might fall through the chinks between boulders, quite possibly to his death. "Here? On the rocks?"
"Yes. You set up camp, and I'll be back shortly." Gaelinar wandered into the forest. Grumbling epithets against the Kensei's sanity, Larson brushed snow from the smoothest rocks, laid blankets, and selected cheese and bread from the sack of rations.
Within minutes, Gaelinar returned with a stout, green branch. Perched atop a stacked throne of boulders, he whittled one end of his stick to a point. He poked at the barb with a fingertip, rose, and trotted into the cave. Shortly, he joined Larson again.
Larson watched Gaelinar's antics without comment. Curiosity gnawed at him, but he knew his mentor would appreciate patience. He may even be testing me. Larson dismissed the thought; when Gaelinar was ready, he would discuss his plans.
Gaelinar's secretiveness extended through a sword practice tempered by fatigue and through a meal eaten nearly in silence. It was not until they lay between thick blankets, nestled around the craggy protrusions of the rocks, that Gaelinar chose to reveal his scheme. "I couched the spear at the level of Fenrir's chest. If at any time the wolf chases you, run into the cave. Be careful of the point. It sits about here." Using his finger, the Kensei traced a depiction of the cave on Larson's arm. He emphasized a location which corresponded to three-quarters of the distance from entrance to end. "Run straight. Ignore any branches. I picked a cavern with an exit in the back, so we have an escape if the trap fails." He added in a reluctant tone which discouraged inquiries, "Any questions?"
Larson yawned. Already, he could feel sleep huddled at the edge of his consciousness. "What if Fenrir doesn't attack tonight?"
Gaelinar removed his hand from Larson's arm. "No matter. There are plenty of caves in these mountains. We'll set the same trap every night until we reach Geir-magnus' estate."
A sudden gust showered snow down upon Larson and Gaelinar. Larson huddled deeper beneath the blankets, more from habit than need. He had long ago learned cold did not faze him in the elf form Freyr had given him.
Wind and gathering darkness swallowed Gaelinar's words. They came to Larson muffled. "I think the wolf will attack tonight. We haven't seen it for weeks. It's biding its time, studying us, waiting until we're most vulnerable. Tonight, we're far from civilization and short a companion. I don't know how that mental combat of yours works, but a drunken beggar can see how lack of sleep has impaired your coordination and your judgment. And I'm not at my best either."
Gaelinar trailed off, and Larson turned his head to see whether his mentor had paused or simply dropped his voice too low to hear over the hiss of wind through crevices.
Gaelinar's features appeared twisted in thought. "Speaking of your faulty mind barriers, I suggest you do whatever you can to keep our plan hidden from the wolf. If it's delayed this long, it'll surely read what thoughts of yours it can. Given its preparation and ours, one way or the other, this will be our last fight. Right now, the wolf has all the advantages, except one. If you reveal our plan, we lose surprise, too."
Larson clenched his jaws. He knew Gaelinar was aware he would not divulge the trap on purpose, but Larson could not evade a feeling of resentment. What was it Vidarr said about probes? He racked his memory of the night when Fenrir invaded his dreams and Vidarr came to his rescue. Vidarr said he needed to actually enter my mind to manipulate it, but to communicate or read ' 'surface" thoughts, he used a mental probe. I'm always aware of intruders in my mind. The probes seem to pass unnoticed. Larson followed his thoughts to the natural conclusion. Gaelinar's right. Fenrir has access to anything I'm concentrating on. Therefore, I'll have to stop thinking about the trap.
Careful not to slip between cracks, Larson shifted to his side. Immediately, he pictured the cave in the mountainside. He smothered the image, turning his thoughts toward his uncle's farm in Kansas. His mind followed tight miles of corn rows, tassels swaying in the breezes of early summer. Landscape as flat as the Coney Island beaches filled his mind's eye. Sleep replaced the memory, flooding Larson's dreams with caves, carved spears, and giant wolves. A lighter phase in the cycle of sleep brought him close enough to awareness to attempt to redirect his thoughts. He began to roll again, and Gaelinar's warning touch drew him fully awake.
Larson went still. His ears sifted out the harmony of wind, owls, and foxes which had lulled him to sleep. Beneath these familiar noises, he heard the click of tumbling pebbles. Now, the wisdom of Gaelinar's decision to sleep in a boulder field seemed clear. Something was moving toward the Kensei, slowly and stealthily. Head turned the wrong way to see the creature, Larson inched his hand to his sword hilt and loosened the blade in its scabbard.
Gaelinar's ringers locked on Larson's wrist, restraining him. The patter of dislodged rocks disappeared.
Larson held his breath, seeking a misstep which would reveal the stalker. He hoped Gaelinar was following the intruder's progress by something other than sound.
Gaelinar released Larson with an urgent snap. In the same motion, the Kensei leaped to his feet, drew his ka-tana, and slashed. Larson followed, but a pebble rocked beneath his foot. He stumbled and caught his balance at a crouch, barely managing to keep hold of his sword. Fenrir jumped backward to avoid Gaelinar's strike, its dark form blocking Larson's view of the woods. Moonlight silvered bristled fur.
Fenrir circled, keeping Gaelinar between itself and Larson. Abruptly, it sprang for the Kensei. The boulder from which it launched toppled down the mountainside, crushing young alders and dwarf pines. The unexpected shift of Fenrir's foundation threw off its sense of distance. Its attack fell short. Gaelinar's blade plunged toward the wolfs neck. Fenrir swerved but not quite far enough. The katana drew a long cut in its side before Fenrir grounded its footing.
Giant boulders which seemed immobile to Larson pitched beneath Fenrir's tremendous bulk. The wolf went on the defensive. It crouched, taunting with arrogant challenges, its breath pale smoke in the autumn air. "Come on, murderers! You know I cannot be killed. If you insist on trying, I will joyfully tear you both apart." Dark blood parted a trail through the fur over Fenrir's ribs, but it seemed unaffected by the wound.
Gaelinar worked his way around the wolf, leaving Larson at the front. Larson took a halfhearted thrust at Fenrir in an attempt to buy time for the Kensei to position himself. Fenrir dodged easily, then spun and lunged for Gaelinar. The Kensei sidled. His sword darted up to meet the wolf. The beast twisted in midair. Gaelinar's blade carved harmlessly across fur, and Fenrir's shoulder jarred the Kensei's forearm. Unable to keep up with Fenrir's tremendous leaps, Larson rushed to his mentor's aid.