Ty the Parson’s repeated head snaps not only gave Orlon a sympathetic neck cramp, they told him exactly what was going on. But before he could think on it further, out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of Shibtarr, big blue eyes filled with awe, reaching out to touch the Holy Pike—and into his mind flashed the fate of the Campfire Girl when her own wonderment compelled her to touch the pike.
"Don’t touch that," he warned, carefully shifting the pike to left hand, away from the boy.
"Sh," Sharna said.
Hit with two verbal assaults set Shibtarr back two steps, spear in white knuckled hands moving back and forth with his eyes, one to the other. Sharna must have felt the threatening gesture, as she cast a warning glare upon him to deflect it. It did, but not without a macho show. The boy backed away, spear held at the ready, face fierce but for a glimmer of uncertainty in his eyes. Once he felt a safe distance away, he swung the spear over a shoulder, snapped his fingers at her and turned his back on her, quick-stepping away casually.
Orlon noticed the boy’s dramatics in passing, his attention back on Ty the Parson. There was no doubt in his mind his antics dealt with what their next move would be: spend the night at the hotel or carry on with the quest. He could not help but believe he knew what choice that would be. The lateness of the hour and past experience were strong indicators.
Yet there was an added element that told him circumstances might be different this time.
That added element was the mountain looming over the forest on the horizon. Though not as foreboding as the mountain they had seen this morning, he felt a shiver crept up his spine as he looked at it. He gulped. That mountain could represent their journey’s final destination.
His stomach grumbled, and he inwardly giggled at the thought that was one sound Sharna could not shush. It also reminded him they had missed lunch. Further, he realized the stuffed feeling gained by Bretta’s biscuit was gone. And watching Ty the Parson go through his repeated head snapping examination of the situation, pausing more and more on the mountain each time, gave him the feeling they would not be stopping at the hotel for the night.
Suddenly it dawned on him he just might have a say in the matter. Since the quest began choices had been left up to the One—him—and what the One said went. Well, he was hungry! Sure, the world was depending on him to save it, even more so now that he had the Holy Pike, and sure, it was apparent they were near the mountainous lair of the evil threat he was to combat, but just as surely, the hotel had a dining room and…he was hungry…. If he was going to decide their next move, he was ready to do so now. Finger raised, he opened his mouth to give voice to his choice…
"Funny thing," Tarl Bimbo said, rounding the hotel corner, buckling his pants belt, sword belt over a shoulder. "There we were going in for our third…uh, good time—" he shot Orlon a wink and jiggled his belt buckle "—and out of the blue, she ran away."
Orlon looked to the heavens.
Ty the Parson, on the other hand, froze for a split second before he spun on Tarl, eyes ablaze. "The teen’s lover escapes the outraged father’s grasp! Which direction did she flee?" he said in a flail of limbs.
"That way," Tarl pointed to the field across the sea of armor.
The distant mountain darkened.
"As I feared," Ty the Parson said, leaping into the air, arms and legs flailing wildly. He landed in a wide-legged stance, staff sweeping back and forth pointedly at the Party. "The unexpected sibling drops after doctor declares twins! Germs invade the healthy body! Here at the waning hours of our second day, the day that saw the successful conclusion of the first part of our twofold quest, a spy has penetrated the Party via a weak link."
All eyes turned on Tarl, and the intensity of their disapproval made him flinch.
"The gangster’s moll sits behind his gambling opponent! The pearl diver dares the depths in search of the irritated clam! We are so close to the final goal of our twofold quest, yet as we delay here, a spy hurries to inform the evil Tibtarnitallimardarian, whom we seek to prevent taking over the world, of our approach. We must brave the evils of the night in hopes of attaining our goal before it is too late." Ty the Parson performed a wild about-face and stormed across the sea of armor.
In quick order, the Party followed, Sharna urging Orlon along after. Last in line was Tarl, who upon reaching the field hurried to walk alongside his best friend. That was when he became aware someone was missing, and a quick look about told him who it was.
"Where’s Mishto?" he asked.
Orlon briefly told him of her fiery demise in the attic.
"Hm," Tarl said and seeing her beautiful face in his mind, sighed, "Too bad."
XII. Twin Rivers
Step by hurried step, the Party followed Ty the Parson across the field. They looked first to the nearing forest and mountain beyond, then the setting sun, and it was apparent to one and all that despite their speed they would never span the distance between them and the mountain before night fell. Yet they were going to do their best no matter how impossible the task appeared to be.
Their best proved too much for Orlon, who was not only hungry to the point of cramps but sleepy to the point of drooping eyelids. He found it strangely interesting how the pain of the former helped him battle the droop of the latter. But there was nothing within him to help combat the pain in his leg muscles, as he struggled to keep up the pace, hampered as he was with the weight of the Holy Pike, which grew heavier and heavier with each step he took.
Yet somehow he found within himself the resolve to keep in step with his fellow travelers.
To a man, and woman, the warriors watched their shadows lengthen further and further to the east and the distance they must traverse grow shorter and shorter, though not as quickly as their shadows lengthened, or so it seemed. So, too, did the Midgets watch and compare shadow length to distance gained, and they, too, were not happy with the apparent difference in speed of one to the other.
At the same time the two were not thrilled with the idea of reaching their destination—ever. Both looked at the mountain ahead, and they gulped. Tarl was unnerved by the thought they were actually traveling to a real confrontation with something that lived in such a spooky place. Orlon, on the other hand, was terrified with the thought he was the One expected to face and defeat evil Tibtarni—whatever, and that he would have to do it in the darkness of night… The weight of his chosen weapon for the deed grew to the point his arm trembled carrying it.
Night fell! Darkness consumed the land—and the Party, which halted. The moonless sky offered them no succor. They looked up. Not even the stars offered a twinkle of help against the pitch black night.
"Now what are we going to do?" Orlon said.
"Without our supplies," Marcol said, "we have no means of making torches."
"I, Rae, will lead the way."
All turned to the sound of the robed youth’s voice. Just then the highly polished, perfectly spherical ball atop his staff burst into light, forcing them to raise a protective hand before their eyes. When the light settled down, it formed a brilliant globe about the ball, in the glow of which they could see Rae’s freckly, pimple marked face. The oiliness of his shoulder length brown hair glistened from the unusually intense light.
"Follow me," he said and took off across the field.
Ty the Parson fell in behind him, followed by Shing and Grash, and Marcol, and the rest fell in behind them. And in the light the warriors, hands hovering over sword hilts, searched the outer darkness in hopes of detecting any evil threat before it struck. Orlon, the Holy Pike held carefully away from any possible contact with anyone, was drawn closer to Sharna by a firm hand on his shoulder