“The collapse of my predecessor, due to exhaustion, was symptomatic of the sluggishness that previously pervaded this entire army—a laxness that allowed our enemy to reach its fortress months ago,” said General Giarna. His voice was level and low, yet it seemed to carry more ominous power than the emperor’s loud exhortations.
Murmurs of discontent rose in many thousands of throats. Barnet had been a popular leader, and his death hadn’t been satisfactorily explained to the men. Yet the stark fear they felt for the Boy General prevented anyone from audibly muttering open displeasure.
“Our emperor informs me that additional troops will be joining us, a contingent of dwarves from the Theiwar Clan of Thorbardin. They are skilled miners and will be put to work digging excavations beneath the walls of the enemy defenses.
“Those of you who are not engaged in preparations for the attack will begin tomorrow a vigorous program of training. When the time comes to attack, you will be ready! And for the glory of our emperor, you will succeed!”
16
The firelight reflected from the walls of the cave like dancing sprites, weaving patterns of warmth and comfort. A haunch of venison sizzled on a spit over the coals, while Sithas’s cloak and leggings dried on a makeshift rack.
“No tenderloin of steer ever tasted so sweet or lay so sumptuously on the palate,” announced Kith-Kanan, with an approving smack of his lips. He reached forward and sliced another hot strip from the meat that slow-roasted above the coals.
Sithas looked at his brother, his eyes shining with pride. Unlike the sheep, which he admitted had been slain by dumb luck as much as anything, he had stalked this deer through the woods, lying in wait for long, chilly hours, until the timid creature had worked its way into bow range. He had aimed carefully and brought the animal down with one shot to the neck.
“I have to agree,” Sithas allowed as he finished his own piece. He, too, carved another strip for eating. Then he cut several other juicy morsels, piling them on a flat stone that served as a platter, before lifting the spit from the fire.
He turned to the mouth of the shallow cave, where winter’s darkness closed in. “Hey, One-Tooth.” he called. “Dinner time!” The giant’s round face, split by his characteristic massive grin, appeared. One-Tooth squinted before reaching his massive paw into the cave. His eyes lit up expectantly as Sithas handed him the spit.
“Careful—it’s hot. Eat hearty, my friend ” Sithas watched in amusement as the giant, who had learned several words of the common tongue-"hot” being high on the list-picked tentatively at the dripping meat.
“Amazing how friendly he got, once we started feeding him,” remarked Kith-Kanan. Indeed, once the hill giant had satisfied himself that the elf wasn’t going to slay him, One-Tooth had become an enthusiastic helper. He had carried Kith down the narrow trail from the ledge with all the care that a mother shows to her firstborn babe. The weight of the injured elf hadn’t seemed to slow the hill giant at all as Sithas led him back over the steep pass and into this valley. The trip had been hard on Kith-Kanan, with each step jarring his injured leg, but he had borne the punishment in silence. Indeed, he had been amazed and delighted at the degree of control with which Sithas had seized the reins of their expedition.
It had taken another day of searching, but finally the Speaker of the Stars had discovered this shallow cave, its entrance partially screened by boulders and brush. Lying in the overhang of a rock-walled riverbank, the cave itself was dry and spacious, albeit not so spacious that the giant didn’t have to remain outside. A small stream flowed within a dozen feet of its mouth, assuring a plentiful supply of water.
Now that they had reached this forested valley, Sithas had been able to rig a splint for Kith-Kanan’s wound.
Nevertheless, it galled the leader of the Wildrunners, who had always handled his own problems, to sit here in forced immobility while his brother, the Speaker of the Stars, did the hunting, wood-gathering, and exploration, as well as the simpler jobs like fire-tending and cooking.
“This is truly amazing, Sithas,” Kith said, indicating their rude shelter. “All the comforts of home.”
The cave was shallow, perhaps twenty feet deep, with a ceiling that rose almost five feet. Several dense clumps of pines and cedars grew within easy walking distance.
“Comforts,” Sithas agreed. “And even a palace guard!
One-Tooth looked attentive, sensing that they were talking about him. He grinned again, though the juice dribbling from his huge lips made the effect rather grotesque.
“I have to admit, when you first told me that I was going to ride a giant, I thought the cold had penetrated a little too far between your ears. But it worked!”
They had set up a permanent camp here, agreeing tacitly between them that without Arcuballis they were stuck in these mountains at least for the duration of the winter.
Of course, they were haunted by awareness of the distant war. They had discussed the nature of Sithelbec’s defenses and concluded that the humans probably wouldn’t be able to launch an effective assault before summer. The stout walls ought to stand against a long barrage of catapult attacks, and the hard earth would make tunneling operations difficult and time-consuming. All they could do now was wait and hope.
Sithas had gathered huge piles of pine boughs, which made fairly comfortable beds. A fire built at the mouth of the cave sent its smoke billowing outward, but radiated its impressive heat throughout their shelter. It made the cave into a very pleasant shelter, and—with the presence of One-tooth—Sithas no longer feared for his brother’s safety if he had to be left alone. They both knew that soon enough, Sithas would have to set out on foot to seek the griffons. Now they sat in silence, sharing a sense of well-being that was quite extraordinary, given the circumstances. They had shelter and warmth, and now they even had extra food! Lazily Sithas rose and checked his boots, careful not to singe their fur-covered surface. He turned them slightly to warm a different part of their soggy surface. Immediately steam began to arise from the soaked leather. He returned to his spot and flopped down on his own cloak. He looked at his brother, and Kith-Kanan sensed that he wanted to say something.
“I think you’ve got enough food here to last you for a while,” Sithas began.
“I’m going to search for the griffons.”
Kith nodded. “Despite my frustration with this—” he indicated his leg—“I think that’s the only thing to do.”
“We’re near the heart of the range,” Sithas continued, with a nod. “I figure that I can head out in one direction, make a thorough search, and get back here within a week or ten days. Even with the deep snow, I’ll be able to make some progress. I’ll stop back and check on you and let you know what I’ve found. If it’s nothing, I’ll head out in a different direction after that.”
“Sounds like a reasonable plan,” Kith-Kanan agreed. “You’ll take the scroll from Vedvedsica, of course.”
Sithas had planned on this. “Yes. If I find the griffons, I’ll try to get close enough to use the spell.”
His brother looked at him steadily. Kith-Kanan’s face showed an expression Sithas was not accustomed to. The injured elf spoke. “Let me do something before you go. It might help on your journey.”
“What?”
Kith wouldn’t explain, instead requesting that his brother bring him numerous supple pine branches—still green, unlike the dried sticks they used for firewood.