“And I as well,” Vaegon added.
“Then it’s decided.” Mikahl’s voice was firm. He had already sworn to avenge Loudin’s and Lord Gregory’s deaths, as well as King Balton’s. King Balton’s death, he figured, was on Glendar’s hands, but the others had been killed by demon kind. Still, he was certain that all three deaths were rooted in the same sort of evil. He hoped that the White Goddess would help them. He also hoped that the people of Westland were all right. It troubled him deeply, to think that King Balton’s good and loyal subjects were under the command of some dragon riding wench.
They didn’t post a watch that night, because they knew the Great Wolves were guarding them, but long after everyone was asleep, Vaegon was still awake and busy. First, with writing the day’s passage into his journal, then later, mending and remaking what he had retrieved for Mikahl earlier that day in the forest.
The next morning, Mikahl was up before dawn, going through his rigorous array of exercises with Ironspike. The pack of wolves found this curious, and had formed a ring around him. They watched the display of will and dexterity from their haunches intently. King Aldar sat up and watched as well. When Mikahl was finished, the King approached him, and spoke quietly.
“You’re going to replenish the sword then?” he asked the question, even though Mikahl had made the answer plainly clear with the intensity of his workout.
“Aye, King Aldar,” Mikahl spoke, as if speaking to an equal. “Is it not the only choice to make? Ironspike will do me little good without its power. What’s a plain old sword against a demon or a dragon? I’ll need all the help I can get.”
“That you will.” The Giant King gave Mikahl a fatherly pat on the back, his huge hand touching both shoulder-blades at the same time.
“I have something for you. It was going to be a gift for your father, a token of gratitude for walling back those half-breeds at Coldfrost.”
He produced a thick gold chain. On it, hung a medallion made of the same yellowed bone as his wolf’s head staff.
“This is dragon bone. It has some power of protection to it, a charm so to speak,” he said, as he leaned down and placed it over Mikahl’s head.
Mikahl took the piece of dragon bone in his hand, and examined it more closely. It was the size of his palm, and carved in the shape of a lion’s head. Its mane was worked with golden inlays, and the eyes were two sparkling emeralds. It was beautiful. Mikahl tucked it away into his shirt, and bowed in thanks to the towering giant. Already, he was trying to think of a way to protect the piece from the chain mail shirt he favored. It wouldn’t do to scratch and scar such a wonderful gift while in battle.
When Vaegon woke, Mikahl received another gift. The elf had gone out into the forest and found where the hellcat had dropped Ironspike’s original sheath. The belt was ruined, and the scabbard itself damaged, but Vaegon had taken part of Duke Fairchild’s sword belt and sheath, and made a shoulder rig for Mikahl to use. It fit awkwardly, placing Ironspike’s blade across his back diagonally, so that its hilt jutted up just over his right shoulder, but it worked. The whole of the blade fit perfectly into the familiar, hardened leather scabbard, and what’s more, the sword’s magic went dormant when it was seated, as it was supposed to do. Thus, the sword wasn’t slowly losing what little power it had left when it wasn’t being used.
Mikahl drew the blade several times, and figured that he would grow to like the accessibility that the shoulder rig gave him. With deep gratitude, he thanked Vaegon for the kind gesture.
They learned that they would be riding on the wolves’ backs, across the thousand miles that separated them from the eastern mountain range. It excited, but pained Mikahl, because he would have to say goodbye to Windfoot.
Borg promised to take the horses back to the Skyler Clan village, where he would personally enlarge the entry of one of the herd caverns, so that the horses could survive the bitter winter if they needed to. Still, it was a long and slightly tearful goodbye for Mikahl, one that brought tears to Princess Greta’s eyes, and Hyden’s as well. It was as if Mikahl was saying goodbye to everything he had ever known.