“There are also rumors of alien creatures fighting with the invaders. But as far as I know, only a few burned-out village folk have seen these creatures, so I wouldn’t place too much stock in what they say.
“There is one interesting piece of news, though. It seems a patrol from Yabon made an unusually broad sweep to the edge of the Lake of the Sky. On the shore they found what was left of some Tsurani and a band of goblins raiding south from the Northlands. At least we don’t have to worry about the northern borders. Perhaps we could arrange for them to battle each other for a while and leave us alone.”
“Or take up common cause against us,” said Dolgan. “Still, I think that unlikely, as the goblins tend to kill first and negotiate later.”
Grimsworth chuckled deeply. “It is somehow meet that these two bloody-handed folk should run across one another.”
Dolgan nodded. He hoped Grimsworth correct, but was disquieted by the thought of the Nations of the North—as the dwarves thought of the Northlands—joining the fray.
Grimsworth wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I will stay this night only, for if I am to pass safely through their lines, I must move quickly. They step up their patrols to the coast, cutting off Crydee for days at a time. I will spend some time there, then start the long run for the dukes’ camp.”
“Will you return?” asked Dolgan.
The ranger smiled, his grin showing up brightly against his dark skin “Perhaps, if the gods are obliging. If not I, then one of my brothers. It might be that you’ll see Long Leon, for he was sent to Elvandar and, if he is a’right, may be bound here with missives from the Lady Aglaranna. It would be good to know how the elvenfolk fare.” Tomas’s head came up from his musing at the mention of the Elf Queen’s name.
Dolgan puffed on his pipe and nodded. Grimsworth turned to Tomas and spoke directly to him for the first time. “I bring you a message from Lord Borric, Tomas.” It had been Grimsworth who earned the first messages from the dwarves along with the news that Tomas was alive and well. Tomas had wanted to return to the Kingdom forces with Grimsworth, but the Natalese Ranger had refused to have him along, citing his need to travel fast and quietly. Grimsworth continued his message. “The Duke rejoices at your good fortune and your good health. But he sends grave news as well. Your friend Pug fell in the first raid into the Tsurani camp and was taken by them. Lord Borric shares your loss.”
Tomas stood without a word and moved deep into the cave. He sat in the rear, for a few moments as still as the rock around him, then a faint trembling started in his shoulders. It grew in seventy until he shook violently, teeth chattering as if from bitter cold. Then tears came unbidden to his cheeks, and he felt a hot pain rush up from his bowels to his throat, constricting his chest. Without a sound he gasped for breath, and great silent sobs shook him. As the pain grew near-unbearable, a seed of cold fury formed in the center of his being, pushing upward, displacing the hot pain of grief.
Dolgan, Grimsworth, and the rest looked up when Tomas re-entered the light of the fire. “Would you please tell the Duke that I thank him for thinking of me?” he asked the ranger.
Grimsworth nodded. “Yes, I will, lad. I think it would be a’right for you to make the run to Crydee, if you wish to return home. I’m sure Prince Lyam could use your sword.”
Tomas thought. It would be good to see home again, but at the keep he would be just another apprentice, even if he did bear arms. They would let him fight if the keep was attacked, but they certainly wouldn’t let him participate in raids.
“Thank you, Grimsworth, but I will remain. There is much yet to be done here, and I would be a part of it. I would ask you to give word to my mother and father that I am well enough and think of them.” Sitting down, he added, “If it is my destiny to return to Crydee, I shall.”
Grimsworth looked hard at Tomas, seemed about to speak, then noticed a slight shake of Dolgan’s head. More than any other humans in the West, the Rangers of Natal were sensitive to the ways of the elves and dwarves. Something was occurring here that Dolgan thought best left unexplored for the time being, and Grimsworth would bow before the dwarven chief’s wisdom.
As soon as the meal was finished, guards were posted, and the rest made ready for sleep. As the fire died down, Tomas could hear the faint sounds of inhuman music and again saw the shadows dance. Before sleep claimed him, he plainly saw one figure stand apart from the rest, a tall warrior, cruel of face and powerful in countenance, dressed in a white tabard emblazoned with a golden dragon.