Bladesinger - Keith Francis Strohm [14]
"Exactly what is behind us?" Roberc asked. "How many will we need to face?"
The druid shook her head. "I do not know," she replied. "For all of her intelligence, Rusella is simply a raven." Taen watched as she stared at the sky. "There is an easy way to find out, though," she said after a moment and dismounted abruptly from her horse. Before Taen or anyone else could gainsay her, the druid took the shape of a falcon-a bright red-gold kestrel-and launched herself into the air with wind-swift wings. She cleaved through the air like an arrow, soaring higher and higher, until Taen lost sight of her.
The half-elf cursed. Then, quickly gathering the reins of Marissa's horse, drew close to Borovazk. The Rashemi sat thoughtfully on his stallion.
"The little witch is powerful, yes?" asked Borovazk.
"Yes, she is," Taen replied, unable to keep the worry out of his voice.
"Then do not fear, little friend," the ranger said. "She will return to us and we will know what is following." Borovazk drew the curved length of his polished horn bow from its resting place across his back.
Taen nodded but said nothing. He kept scanning the sky, waiting for some sign of Marissa's return. A few moments later, the sharp-noted screech of a hunting falcon echoed across the plain, followed by a fast-moving speck circling high in the air. The speck drew closer and closer to the ground, until it finally alit with a rustling of wings and pinions. The air shimmered and Marissa stood once more in their midst.
"Ice trolls," she gasped, as if winded from her brief flight. "Five of them. They are heading our way fast." She grabbed the reins of her horse from Taen and swung quickly into the saddle.
From behind him, Taen heard Borovazk say something harsh in his native tongue.
"Well, little friends," Borovazk said with a fierce grin on his face, "it looks like we have some fun today. Ice trolls must be very hungry to hunt this close to vale. They do not like the heat."
"Can we outrun them?" Roberc asked. The halfling sat astride Cavan confidently, loosening the knot that held his red-hilted short sword in its scabbard. At the first mention of being followed, he had donned the gold-winged helm that he always wore into battle. It gleamed brilliantly in the midmorning sun.
Borovazk grunted. "Is unlikely that we could outdistance them," he replied. "Melting snow, slush, and mud is slippery even for Rashemi horses. No, little friends, it looks like we must fight."
Unlike many of those who adventured across Faerun, Taen did not enjoy warfare. The prospect of battling trolls in the hinterlands of Rashemen was not a thing to set the blood singing through his veins. Still, he recognized the necessity of it-even welcomed it, if it would silence the nagging voice of doubt that whispered to him of his own failures. Protecting Marissa and his other companions from danger just might do that.
"We should find a better place to stand our ground," he said.
"Borovazk agrees," came the ranger's response. "Come, I know of such a place close by." With that, he kicked his stallion into a fast trot and motioned for them to follow.
Unlike the sheer plains they had traveled across from Mulptan, the land close to the Immil Vale rolled gently up and down. The ranger led them to the top of one such slope, carefully dismounting and walking his stallion. The ground was soft and muddy, covered with the thick slush that had been their companion for the past two days.
Taen nodded his approval as they gathered at the top of the slope. Their position gave them a good vantage point for spotting and bringing down their enemy with ranged weapons and spells, while the soft earth would slow any attack should the trolls manage to get close enough to attack.
" 'Ware their spittle, little friends," Borovazk cautioned as he placed five dark-wooded arrows point down in the soft earth. The color of their fletching shifted from bright red to orange then back again while the ranger spoke. "It will freeze the very blood in your veins."
Even though he and his companions