Bearers of the Black Staff

WHEN HE WOKE, both Phryne and her blanket were gone, and he was lying on the bare ground, the chill of early morning stiffening his joints. He rose and stretched, finding the others grouped around a small collection of foodstuffs produced from someone’s stores, eating quietly. He joined them without comment. He was pleased to see that the Elves were sharing what they had with Arik Sarn. The Troll’s impassive face revealed nothing of what he was thinking, but he gave a quick nod as the boy sat down next to him.

Phryne Amarantyne never even glanced his way.

They set out again shortly afterward, but not until Sider had satisfied himself that no one was tracking them or trying to spy on where they were going. Even so, he took them on a circuitous route that wound through clusters of rock and deep ravines as they ascended the mountains, effectively hiding them from view almost all the way up to the entrance to Aphalion Pass. Once there, he paused them again, taking time to study the plains below. Only then did he allow them to enter the pass and make their way back into the valley.

They were all relieved to discover that the dragon they had encountered on their way out was nowhere to be seen.

“A creature mutated from the old days, before the Great Wars,” Sider opined when Panterra asked him about its origins. “Or, if you prefer something more magical, a creature that has survived from the time of Faerie, a mythical beast that was sleeping until we brought it awake again. Hard to tell without getting close enough to examine it. Difficult to tell even then.”

No one was going to suggest attempting anything like that, even if they somehow found the dragon again, so solving the mystery of its origin would have to wait.

“How did you find us?” Panterra pressed as they descended out of the pass, not having thought to question the unexpectedness of it until then.

“Magic,” the Gray Man deadpanned. Then he shrugged. “Or maybe something more like luck. I returned after chasing after that beast we fought, thinking to find you and see what success you’d had with the people of Glensk Wood. I spoke with Aislinne Kray and learned of your danger. She suggested I do something about it, since she felt I had caused the problem. So I went to Arborlon and discovered that you had gone up into the pass with the Orullians and Oparion Amarantyne’s daughter. I guessed at the rest when I found all of you missing and your tracks leading off into the wasteland. One thing led to another.”

“How do you know Aislinne?” The words were out before he could think better of them.

The Gray Man looked away. “I know her from a long time ago.”

There was more to it than that, Pan sensed, a great deal more, but he knew better than to ask. Whatever their relationship might be, or might have once been, Aislinne wielded considerable influence over Sider Ament if she could tell him to do something and the Gray Man would do it.

“She kept us safe when Skeal Eile would have seen us dead,” he ventured after a moment. Then he told the other about the assassination attempt and their escape from the village.

Sider Ament listened but said nothing, the subject apparently closed. Panterra knew enough to leave it there.

They walked on through the morning, and by midday they had reached the outskirts of the city of Arborlon, come into view of its heights and the ramp leading up. Once within the city, the little company went straight to the King’s home, quickly picking up an escort of Home Guard that had apparently been told to watch for them. Heads turned at the sight of Arik Sarn, but the presence of Lizards was not all that unusual in Arborlon, and so the gazes did not linger.

“Many Elves,” the Troll said quietly at one point. “Thousands?”

“Thousands and more,” Pan answered. “More Elves than Men in the valley. More than any of the other Races.”

The Troll nodded, looking uneasy. “Dislike Trolls?”

Pan shook his head. “They like them well enough. But the Trolls choose to live apart.”

Arik Sarn looked away. “Trolls always live apart.”

Their escort grew larger, walling them away from those who crowded close enough to shout questions or to have a cautious look. That the Princess was among the newcomers must have raised a few eyebrows, but no one tried to speak with her, not even those in the Home Guard escort.