“He is coming back,” Amilia told them.
Once more Nimbus did the talking. There appeared to be some kind of minor dispute and once the elven lord looked over Nimbus’s shoulder at the girls sitting on the floor, then nodded. With the tone of general agreement, the elf remounted his horse and rode back out of the courtyard with the others.
“What?” Modina asked.
“They have decided not to wait and will go to Percepliquis to meet the horn. Should you be telling the truth, they will hold the challenge ceremony there. If you are lying, Irawondona will claim his right to rule through default. I presume that will mean they will continue in their march to rid the world of mankind. Either way you must go with them.”
“When?”
“You have just enough time to grab a change of clothes, I think. I tried to arrange a small retinue, but they refused. I did manage to gain agreement for the girls to go. Allie deserves to be with her father when he returns and Mercy will comfort her if he does not. I told him they were your daughters.”
“Thank you, Nimbus, you may very well have saved all our lives.”
“I fear it may only be a stay of execution.”
“Not if Arista succeeds, and every day granted to us is another day to hope.”
Mince climbed out of the Hovel, pulling his hood up and yawning. The others had kicked him awake, as it was his turn to check the horses. The rule in their group had always been that those who worked ate. It was a simple rule, with little room for interpretation, but early on a cold winter’s morning, when he was bundled in blankets and half-asleep, the thought of going outside in the wind and snow made forgetting even simple rules easy. Finally he had relented, knowing they would just kick him harder.
He stood up and stretched his back as he did every morning, thinking about how old he was getting. It was still early, and the sun was only now breaching the tree line, casting sharp angles of golden light in slants, making the snow crystals glimmer. It was warmer, but the night’s chill still lingered. He decided it was the wetness that made it feel worse; at least when it was cold, the air and even snow were dry.
Mince walked to the line of horses waiting for him. He knew them all by name and they knew him. Each of their heads turned, their ears rotating his way. They were lucky. The bitter cold had ended abruptly and none of the horses had died. Even the one Mince was certain had stopped breathing survived.
“Morning, ladies and gents,” he greeted them as he did each day, with a nod of his head and a wave of his hand. “How are we this miserable excuse of a day, huh? What’s that, Simpleton? You don’t agree? You think it is a fine day, you say? Much warmer than yesterday morn? Well, I don’t know if I can agree with you, sir. What’s that, Mouse? You agree with Simpleton? Hmm, I don’t know. It just seems… too quiet—far too quiet.”
It did. Mince stood still with his feet in the slush and listened. There were no wind or sound. It was a strange sort of stillness, as if the world were dead.
Perhaps it is.
Who knew what had happened up north, or to the south, for that matter.
What if they are all dead now? What if the four of us are all that are left?
A crow cawed in a nearby tree; the stark call made the silence desolate. A sense of emptiness and loss hung in the air. Mince felt the line tethering the horses, making sure it was still secure, then pulled open the feed bags. Normally they jostled each other, trying to stick their noses in, but this morning something drew their attention. The horse’s heads turned, their ears twitching to the left, their big eyes peering.
“Someone’s coming?” Mince whispered to Princess. Her head bounced up and down, which shocked him, but then she quickly followed that with a shaking as well.
A few moments later, he heard hooves and he ran to the Hovel to wake the others.
“Who is it?” Brand whispered.
“How should I know?” Mince replied, pulling himself fully inside.
“It’s certainly not Hadrian and the rest,” Elbright pointed out. “They left their horses with us.”
“Maybe it’s Renwick coming back?” Kine suggested hopefully, and this returned several positive looks and nods.
“One of us should look,” Elbright said commandingly, getting to his knees and pulling on his cloak.
“Not me,” Mince said. “Let Brand do it. He’s the bold one.”
“Hush,” Elbright snapped, “I’m going.”
He pulled a bit of the tarp aside and looked out.
“Do you see ’em?” Kine asked.
“No.”
“Maybe they—”
“Shh!” Elbright held up his hand. “Listen.”
Faint voices carried across the stillness of the winter morning.
“They went down here,” a voice said.
“Oh my! That does look rather unpleasant. Is Your Grace certain?”
“Absolutely.”
“They don’t sound like elves,” Kine whispered.
“Like you know how elves talk,” Mince said.