Eddis pulled one from her own pack and bit into it. No onions, Jerdren knew. Though how anyone could live without onions, let alone those crispy, toasted brown bits…
None of his business, he reminded himself as he sucked gravy from his fingers, washed that down with flat ale and a swallow of water, then pulled a tart, crisp apple from his own bag of provisions. He finished that as Eddis, M’Baddah and Blorys came over to join him for a look at the map, and a quick conference.
Jerdren unfolded the heavily detailed parchment. “Now, we’re about—here, right?” He indicated a point well into thick woods. The East Road had taken a bend south and was at the farthest point from them.
Eddis shook her head. “There are four streams shown between the Keep and that point. We crossed one dry bed and stopped the night at this one. Makes two, Jers.”
“Dry being the proper word,” Jerdren replied evenly. He wasn’t used to having his skill with maps questioned. “We could’ve crossed dry, flat beds without knowing it, in the dark.”
“M’Baddah would have known,” Eddis countered. “I would have.” She indicated a point halfway between the Keep and his finger. “I’d say we’re nearer here.”
“It is easy to settle,” M’Baddah put in smoothly as the two co-captains eyed each other narrowly. “Ask one of your hunters. If he isn’t certain, we can always send someone up a tall tree. If you are correct, Eddis, the road will be visible. If not…”
“I don’t believe it matters,” Jerdren said as the outlander hesitated. “But by all means, if we’ve someone good at trees.”
“No point in risking a broken leg this early on,” Eddis replied mildly. The tension between the two was gone. “We came straight east last night. We’re going north today, aren’t we?”
“Toward that hilltop,” Jerdren agreed, his finger moving to tap at the indicated height.
“At worst, we’ll need to angle a little east or west to make it. Though I’m still not sure why we want that hill. Map shows it covered in old forest, Jers. What d’you think we’ll see from there?”
“Well, we probably won’t see much,” Jerdren said as he shoved stones aside and re-rolled his map, folded it twice, and stuffed it into his pack. “Thing is, we should be able to hear things. I grew up in hilly, wooded country, and sound carries in hilly, forested land. If there is a camp over a day’s worth from the Keep, I doubt the men who’ve set it up will bother to be quiet, especially if they don’t know we’re out here. If they’re within an hour or so of that hilltop, we should hear them. If the lines on this map are correct, or close to it, for how the land rises and falls—well, we can very likely tell where the sound is coming from.”
Eddis gave him a cold look and got to her feet. “I didn’t ask for a lecture, Jerdren, and I’m not a dim-witted child. Next time just tell me.” She strode off and knelt to stuff her loose belongings into her pack.
“She’s right, Brother,” Blorys said finally. “She’s not a child or a fool. Don’t treat her like one.”
M’Baddah had already quietly moved away.
Jerdren watched his brother go and cast up his eyes. Here I thought fighting a camp of robbers was going to be the hard part. He made sure the map was tucked firmly into his pack, got up and stretched hard, fingers digging at the small of his back.
They moved on soon after, angling north and a little east through ancient trees. There was little undergrowth here, and only an occasional ray of sun came all the way down to touch the needle-cushioned ground. More light reached them at midday, when they took a break, sharing around a skin of wine and one of water while their provisioner and cook handed out flat bread, cheese, spicy, jerked venison, and dried apple slices. The rest of the day was as quiet as the first half, and they made the top of the hill just before sundown.
The trees were an odd mix, here. Massive oaks with thick branches set far apart, as if the hill had once been a nobleman’s park. In and around these, scrub oaks, fir and other trees twice as tall as the tallest of them, and thin. Spine-brush and other weedy undergrowth was everywhere.
There had been no water all afternoon. No pools, not even a dry stream bed, and as the ground rose, the dirt grew harder underfoot. Mead, who was still in the middle of the company, glanced at Jerdren once or twice and finally dropped back to join him.
“There is something wrong here,” the elf said quietly.
“Wrong?” Jerdren stopped, sent his gaze around the woods, tested the air with his nose, then simply closed his eyes and felt. No unusual sound, but no lack of sound, either. He could hear birds high in the branches, small creatures rustling through the lower brush. Nothing that would have warned the boy Jers to back away and run for it. He finally opened his eyes and shook his head.
“Excuse me please, but I’ve never before worked with a magi—a mage. Or an elf. Perhaps we’re not using wrong in the same way. I’m at home in a hilly wood, and there’s nothing here to make me wary. You?”
Mead was standing very still, head cocked. He shook his head. “I am not certain what it is. My spell revealed nothing. Just—if we stay in this area for the night…”
Jers considered this, then shrugged and started walking again. The rest of the company was a ways ahead, and Eddis glanced back. He waved her on.
“We should have about one more hour of walking, mostly uphill. Once we’re there, we’ll talk again, Mead. If there’s danger about, we’d be fools to camp in the midst of it.”
The mage merely nodded.
They reached the brow of the hill well before sunset. There was little brush here, but the trees were closer together and smaller. Most of the Keep men were already sitting as Jerdren came up, rummaging through their packs for water and dry wafers, while others gathered firewood. M’Baddah and his son were keeping watch. Blorys knelt to cut a hole in the springy grass for the fire. Eddis just dropped her pack and was waiting as her co-captain joined them.
“Nothing much to see here, Jers, and all I’ve heard so far is the noise we’re making. Which isn’t much.”
“It’s enough,” he said and bit back irritation that was at least half caused by tired legs and feet. “We’ll listen once everyone’s settled in. But you and I had better listen to Mead, first.” He repeated the earlier conversation.
Eddis frowned at her fingers, then looked around for the mage.
The elf had moved away from the rest of the party and now stood with his hands against the bole of a massive oak, eyes closed, fingers exploring the rough bark. Willow eyed his half-brother anxiously, then came over to join Eddis and Jerdren.
“He said he told you, Jerdren. He still can’t be specific about the threat, just that there’s something. He’s concerned enough that he won’t be sleeping tonight.”
“If… we were to keep going, farther north maybe, or back the way we came?” Eddis asked. “There’s at least an hour of daylight left, but we could keep going after dark with lanterns again.”
The elf shrugged. “He’s had the sense for most of the afternoon. Whatever is bothering him, I doubt we could get far enough away from it before dark, but he still says there isn’t anything close by that’s any threat.” Willow tipped his head back to gaze high into the trees. “The last time he had a feeling like this, we were attacked by an owlbear. Nasty creatures, and hard to kill. But there’s plenty of deer and small game tracks here. You wouldn’t see any, if it was an owlbear.”
“We’ve got trackers,” Jerdren said. “Men or—or whatever’s around—has to leave prints.”
Eddis waved an arm, taking in the land sloping down and away from them on all sides. “On this? There hasn’t been rain in a long time. The ground’s hard.” She drew a deep breath, let it out slowly. “All the same, you’re right. I’ll get a couple of these men to keep watch and let M’Baddah and M’Whan take a look while we’re getting settled in. And I say we keep the fire going tonight,” she added. “All night.”