The morning continued chilly, with occasional drizzle as the storm clouds marched in from the west. Trackers from the palace guard moved ahead of the main group of volunteers, but with no success. The only animals the hunters saw were squirrels, chipmunks, and one groundhog, slender from a winter's hibernation. The squirrels and chipmunks darted away immediately. The groundhog peered over a log atop a hillock and watched until the hunters had passed.
The trail was wide enough to permit only double-file riding. In some stretches, underbrush grew thick, nearly up to the path. "I don't like this," Tanis told Flint, who nodded. Time and again, the half-elf found his hand returning to the hilt of his sword, and he caressed the intertwined "E" and "K" on the handguard.
Conversation had long since waned among the hunters. The only sounds were the occasional chatter of birds, the creak of saddle leather, and the sniffling of one allergic dwarf. Once Flint sneezed, and Xenoth turned in his saddle and hissed, "Hush!"
"I can help it?" Flint retorted, too softly to be heard by anyone but Tanis.
Suddenly, Tanis saw Tyresian shoot up one arm, and the line halted. One of the trackers, on foot, was standing next to the elf lord, one hand resting on the glossy neck of Tyresian's stallion and the other hand gesturing up ahead. Word filtered back through the column.
"They've found the first spoor!" Gilthanas whispered back to Tanis and Flint. The dwarf clenched the reins so tightly that his knuckles whitened.
"What was it?" Tanis asked.
The answer came filtering down the line like the children's game Gossip: Five-toed tracks, four toes pointed forward, one back, pressed into the damp ground, and only a few hours old. The creature, no doubt, was out looking for food.
"And here we are," Flint said grimly, looking to each side and clasping his battle-axe like a talisman. "Lunch."
"Won't we hear the tylor coming?" Tanis asked.
"Not necessarily," Flint answered. "It may be lying in wait."
The volunteers, faces set, moved into single-file; if the monster crashed out of the underbrush, it would carry away fewer hunters. They pressed on, but every man carried a weapon at the ready. Most of the elves carried short swords.
Midday came and passed unnoticed by the hunters. There was no time for thoughts of food and rest. For a long while they lost the trail, but after an hour of searching, they picked it up again, fresher than before. The hunters cantered their mounts down a narrow, muddy trail, following the tracks. Tanis was forced to duck every few seconds to avoid low-hanging branches.
Suddenly, the horses at the front of the party reared as their riders pulled hard on their reins.
"What is it?" Flint hissed from behind Tanis.
The half-elf rose in his stirrups. The trail widened into an opening. Xenoth was waving his arms as the adviser spoke vehemently to Porthios and Lord Tyresian, who looked impassively ahead as though Xenoth weren't there.
Gilthanas swiveled in his saddle and answered Flint's question. "There's a ravine ahead. Xenoth wants to go around. Tyresian thinks we can jump it."
"Jump it?" Flint demanded. "On a mule?" He looked aghast.
Tanis edged Belthar around Gilthanas, trotted the animal to the front of the line, ignoring the irritable glances of the other hunters, and hailed Tyresian and Porthios. The three studied the ravine-as deep as two elves were tall, its banks too steep to be negotiated by horse or elf. The remains of a bridge lay in splinters at the bottom of the crevasse. "It's not that wide," Tyresian said. "We could jump it," Porthios agreed. "Most of the horses could jump it, certainly," Tanis said, "but what's Flint supposed to do?"
Tyresian looked back down the line, past the elven hunters arrayed in leather and silver, their weapons gleaming in the noon light. At the end of the line, Flint and Fleet-foot looked like the runts of an unusually large litter.
"Leave him," Tyresian stated, his blue eyes hard. "He'll find a way around." Porthios shifted uneasily, started to speak, then fell silent.
"Find a way around?" Tanis snapped. "That ravine stretches out of sight in both directions!"
"No one asked the dwarf to come along," Tyresian answered. "Let him go back."
"Alone? With a tylor loose in the forest?" The elf lord's handsome features tightened. "You're under my command on this operation," Tyresian whispered. "You're also outclassed as a swordsman and as an archer, half-elf."
"Lord Tyresian," Porthios said warningly, and the commander turned and faced the nobles.
"It appears we have come to an impasse," Tyresian called. "We can cross this ravine and seek out the tylor that has been slaying elves and livestock across this section of Qualinesti. Or we can go back in disgrace." He took his time surveying the elves, looking each noble full in the face and studying him for a few heartbeats. "Who is willing to continue?"
The group was quiet for a time. Then Gilthanas spurred his roan forward, pounding past Tyresian and Porthios without a look to either side. With a running start, horse and rider jumped gracefully over the ravine, tracing a smooth arc in the air, and then landed with a spray of mud and gravel. Gilthanas wheeled and saluted.
Ulthen, Litanas, Miral, Porthios, and most of the other nobles quickly followed Gilthanas's lead and waited, milling, on the other side of the ravine. Soon only Tyresian, Tanis, Flint, and Xenoth were left. Tyresian reigned his nervous mount and cast the three an arrogant smile. "Well?"
Xenoth spluttered. "Lord Tyresian, you can't honestly be thinking of leaving us…"
'Then follow along." The elf lord's voice was implacable. "You were the one who wanted to ride Alliance, Xenoth. Certainly you are horseman enough to jump the ravine."
"But this nag can't-"
'Try it!" Tyresian slapped Image's back with the flat of his sword. The horse leaped, Xenoth dropping the reins and clinging to its mane, then balked just feet short of the edge, dumping the Speaker's elderly adviser unceremoniously on the rocky ground. His silver robes in violent disarray, Xenoth struggled to his feet as Tyresian thundered by on Primordan and almost effortlessly took the ravine, scattering the riders on the other side. Then the elf lord led all but one of the riders on down the trail.
Only Porthios lingered at the ravine. Finally, he cupped his hands to his mouth and shouted, "It's all right! Go back to the palace!" and followed the other volunteers.
'Tanis," Flint said, "Go with them. Lord Xenoth and I will go back, as he says."
"What?" squawked the adviser, who had remounted. "And leave me with a dwarf for a protector?"
Flint snorted. "Protector, what?" the dwarf retorted. "I'd sooner protect Fleetfoot here than you." He patted the gray mule's neck. 'Tanis, Belthar can easily leap that gap. Go on."
Tanis narrowed his eyes at the dwarf. "We will not separate. Even Xenoth here could be of some use if we meet the tylor."
The dwarf didn't meet Xenoth's eyes. "Don't count on it," Flint said. "Unless you're thinking about using him as bait." Flint examined the scrawny adviser. "Even then…"
Xenoth wheeled and kicked Image into a canter down the rocky trail toward Qualinost. Flint and Tanis watched, wordlessly. Finally, as Xenoth was vanishing around a bend, Flint shouted, "Don't get too far ahead! The tylor may cut you off!"