Bladesinger - Keith Francis Strohm [13]
Taen traveled onward with his companions. Borovazk must have sensed the half-elf's change in mood, else he, too, was caught in the grip of such reflections, for the Rashemi's stories and songs had eventually tapered off, allowing the wind-ruffled silence of the plains to replace his voice. The half-elf did not speak, dared not speak, against the vast silence of the landscape, and he knew that the others felt the same way.
Once or twice each day, Marissa would dismount and hand the reins of her horse to him. In moments, she would be running ahead of them in wolf shape, scouting their path or hunting in the fading light of day, only to return with a brace of hare, her own hunger sated.
They ate in silence.
Only Roberc seemed unaffected by their surroundings. Dozing in Cavan's saddle or drawing his blade across a whetstone, the halfling appeared to Taen as dour and as solemn as he always did. Early on the morning of their third day of silence, he drew his dun close to the halfling's war-dog and threw a questioning look down at the warrior. Roberc gazed up impassively and simply shrugged before leading Cavan into a loping run that put him well in front of the walking horses.
By afternoon of the next day, their fifteenth day out of Mulptan, the air grew noticeably warmer. Ice-covered snow gave way to wet-packed drifts, and a thin mist had begun to permeate the air. By the first fall of dusk, the horses had to slog through thick piles of slippery slush, and Borovazk eventually called an early halt to their travel.
The change in weather precipitated a change in mood as well. Taen felt free of the awe that had gripped him the past few days, as if the loosening of winter's grip had somehow loosened his tongue as well.
"Why is it getting so warm?" he asked their guide.
"Who cares," interjected Roberc as he helped his furred mount free of the leather barding that protected it. "It's just nice not to have your nose hairs freeze every time you take a breath."
"Indeed, little friends," Borovazk replied. "It will be much better for you now. We draw near to Immil Vale. Winter's heart cannot touch it. It is blessed by the gods-a gift to my people for their strength and bravery, eh?"
"How much further do we have to go?" Marissa asked.
The ranger smiled at her. "Ah, my little witch," he said with obvious affection. "You grow anxious. You not worry. Borovazk know a path that will take us into vale. Two days at most."
Taen awoke that morning feeling uneasy. Twice during the night he had been startled awake by a sound that he wasn't sure he had heard. He'd swept the area surrounding their camp during his turn at watch but had found nothing that would indicate his suspicions were well founded.
Still, the half-elf couldn't shake the feeling that something was watching him from somewhere out on the plain. That feeling grew throughout the day as they headed west toward their destination. Taen stood in his saddle and cast his glance as far as he could-but saw nothing. Finally, he indicated his suspicions to Borovazk.
The ranger nodded. "I feel it too," the Rashemi answered. "We are being followed."
From then on, they all kept a careful watch. Taen noted that Cavan threw his thick muzzle into the air and sniffed suspiciously several times, while the horses seemed unusually skittish.
The tension mounted.
Sometime after midday, Marissa's white raven flew raucously to her outstretched arm. The druid nodded as the bird continued to caw and croon. Finally, she sent it back into the air with a flick of her arm.
"We are being followed," she confirmed their fears. "Rusella says that there are several landwalkers keeping their distance behind us."
Taen nodded at the news. At least he hadn't been imagining things. His heart began to beat rapidly. Whatever it was behind them, the fact that they were trailing them probably meant that they weren't friendly.
Roberc drew Cavan even