In the meantime, the centaurs wouldn’t be laying out any more death symbols in the snow, which had been gradually melting as Arvin, Karrell, and Tanglemane had walked toward the wood. Soon there would be nothing on the ground but slush.
Tanglemane, who had been trudging along behind Arvin and Karrell, also turned to look at the departing herd.
“What now?” Arvin asked. Will you return to the fort?”
Tanglemane shook his head. “You’ll need a guide.” He smiled. “It will be good to be out of harness, for a time.”
Karrell tipped back her head, looking up at the trees. “It looks so odd,” she said. “Trees, without leaves. This forest seems so… lifeless.”
“I assure you, it is not,” Tanglemane replied. “The Chondalwood is filled with life—though only the strongest will have survived this harsh winter.”
Arvin stared at the forest. The Chondalwood was a gloomy place, indeed. Tendrils of withered, brown-leafed ivy clung to bare branches, and dark moss hugged the trees. The slushy ground was an impassible-looking tangle of fallen logs, wilted ferns, and bushes dotted with blackened lumps that had once been berries. Dead boughs, snapped by the previous night’s cold and hanging by a thread of bark, groaned in the breeze. As Arvin glanced up, an icicle fell from a branch and plunged point-first into the slush at his feet. He hoped it wasn’t an omen of things to come.
He touched the crystal at his throat for reassurance then turned to Tanglemane. “I need to find a landmark,” he told the centaur. “One that would be easily recognized by the animals that live in this part of the forest. Is there one nearby?”
Tanglemane thought a moment. “There is Giant’s Rest, a stone that looks like a slumbering giant. Everyone knows it, and it’s no more than a morning’s trot from here.”
Arvin stared at the tangle on the forest floor. “Even through that?”
“I will carry you.”
Arvin’s eyebrows rose. From all he’d heard, a centaur would rather cut off a hoof than allow a rider on his back.
“You saved my life,” Tanglemane said, answering Arvin’s unspoken question. “Not once, but twice. I repay my debts. Both to you… and to the baron.”
“What put you in the baron’s debt?” Arvin asked.
Tanglemane snorted. “Nearly two years ago, he spared my son’s life. I vowed to serve him until that debt had been repaid. To serve in harness, if need be.” He spoke in a level voice, but his whisking tail gave away his agitation.
Arvin smiled. “Gods willing,” he told Tanglemane, “you’re finally going to get the chance to pay off that debt. We came to these woods to find something for the baron. Something he holds dear. It’s in a satyr camp we believe is nearby.”
“A worthy task, indeed,” Tanglemane said. He flashed broad white teeth in a grin. “Much better than pulling a wagon.” He knelt. “Climb aboard.”
During their ride through the forest, a wet snow began to fall. It lasted only a short time, but by the time they reached Giant’s Rest, Arvin was both soaked to the skin and utterly exhausted. The only thing keeping him awake was the constant ache of his legs, spread too wide across Tanglemane’s broad back. Arvin didn’t see the massive stone at first—he was too busy wincing. Only when Karrell, seated behind him with her arms tight around his waist, pointed it out did he realize they’d arrived at the clearing.
Arvin studied the stone through the dripping branches. It did, indeed, look like a sleeping giant lying on his back with an arm draped over his eyes. Fully fifteen paces long, the enormous rock was a variety of hues. A darker patch of brownish-gray began at the “waist” of the giant and ended just short of the “feet,” and the knob of stone that looked like a head bore veins of quartz that streaked the stone white, giving the impression of hair.
“That is no natural rock,” Karrell said. “Nor even a fallen statue. Something turned a giant to stone.” She glanced around nervously.
“Whatever happened here took place centuries ago,” Arvin said. “Just look at how weathered he is.”
Tanglemane knelt, and first Karrell, then Arvin, slid from his back. Arvin winced; it felt as if his legs would never straighten. The insides of his calves and thighs had been chafed raw by the wet fabric of his pants, and his lower back ached. It was already highsun, and he still hadn’t performed his morning meditations. He needed them as much as he needed to rest, and to sleep. But Glisena was somewhere in these woods. The more time that passed, the less chance they had of finding her before she gave birth to her child—and became expendable.
Arvin lifted his arms above his head, stretching. He twisted first right, then left, trying to loosen tightly kinked muscles. Then he reached into his pocket for the lapis lazuli. “I should get started,” he told Karrell. “If I manage to summon a wolf, it might be some time before it gets here.”
Karrell nodded. “When it comes, I will be ready.” Tanglemane whickered.”You’re summoning wolves?” he asked, his voice rising.
“Only one,” Arvin reassured him. “That’s how we’ll find what we’re looking for. Karrell will speak to the wolf. It can tell us if there’s a satyr camp nearby.”
Tanglemane’s nostrils flared. “Wolves run in packs. How can you summon just one? It is winter, and they will be hungry. You must not do this. Summon an eagle, instead. Their eyes are keen.”
“I can’t summon an eagle,” Arvin said. “I couldn’t possibly imitate its cries, and it wouldn’t be able to see through the trees. What we need is a keen sense of smell. If you’re afraid of the wolves….” Belatedly, he realized what he was saying; the lack of sleep had left him irritable. “Sorry,” he told Tanglemane.
The centaur turned, his tail whisking angrily back and forth. Without another word, he trotted away into the forest. Arvin sighed, hoping Tanglemane would come back when his temper cooled.
He touched the lapis lazuli to his forehead. He spoke its command word and felt tendrils of magical energy fuse with his flesh. Then he walked to the head of the stone giant and knelt beside it on the muddy ground. Pressing his cheek against the cold, wet stone, letting the weathered face fill his vision, he linked his mind with the power inside the lapis lazuli. Psionic energy slowly awakened at the base of his scalp; the power point there was as sluggish as his thoughts. Eventually, it uncoiled. Arvin sent his mind out into the forest, questing, and slowly the creature he was seeking materialized in his mind’s eye. For a heartbeat or two, several wolves blurred across his vision. He selected one of them: a lean, gray wolf with a muzzle white as frost, its ears erect and nostrils flaring. To this wolf, Arvin sent out not words, but a wolf’s howl. He imitated it from memory, drawing upon his recollections of the wolf he’d spotted, years ago, while walking past a noble’s garden in Hlondeth. The animal had been straining at the end of a short length of chain—a prisoner. Intrigued by its cries, Arvin had returned to the garden the next night to stare at the wolf through the wrought-iron fence. And the night after that saw him at the garden again. Moved to compassion, he had slipped into the garden to set it free. His reward had been a sharp bite on the arm; two tiny white scars remained where the wolf’s teeth had broken the skin. But he’d smiled and bade the wolf Tymora’s luck as it bolted into the night.
Now, in his mind, he repeated one of the howls that had prompted him to free the creature: a long, wavering, mournful cry.
The wolf cocked its head and gave Arvin a questioning look. It would see him for what he was: a human who had just howled like a wolf. Then it threw back its head. Its reply startled Arvin; it sounded as if the wolf were right next to him, howling in his ear. The cry ended, the wolf cocked its head a second time, following Arvin’s gaze as if it, too, were looking at the stone. Arvin could hear it panting… and the sending ended.