Darkwell - Douglas Niles [78]
"Right you are," agreed the bard, heaving herself to her feet.
"Boy, this place sure has changed! I can't find anyone around here to tease anymore!" The shrill voice, with its familiar whine, came as a welcome surprise to them all. In another second, Newt became visible, hovering before Tristan with an indignant look on his now orange face.
"Where have you been?" demanded the king.
"Why, in the vale, of course! I should think that would be quite obvious even to -"
"Don't do that again! It's important that we stick together?' Tristan didn't try to conceal his anger.
"We were all worried about you." Robyn took a softer tone, casting a harsh look at the king.
"Worried? About me?" The faerie dragon looked pleased. "And well you should be! I have been so bored! I used to find deer and squirrels to scare with my illusions, and even bears and boars. But none of them are left! You don't suppose I frightened them away, do you?"
"No, I should think not. But you and Yazilliclick should stick closer to us from now on." Robyn tried to sound stern. "We can't afford to get separated."
"Where is Yazilliclick?" asked Tavish, suddenly concerned.
"Why, with you, of course! At least, that's what I thought. He didn't want to go exploring. He's really kind of a party pooper, sometimes. Hey, Yaz, where are you?"
But the only answer was the moaning of the wind, and all they could see was the cloak of blinding snow closing in more tightly around them. They shouted for the sprite several times, but there was no response.
"We can't risk calling too much attention to ourselves," cautioned the king. "I hope he catches up with us, but we'll have to press on without him."
"Do you think the deathbirds have gone to ground?" asked the bard, noticing that none of the soaring creatures were visible in the swirling snow.
"Could be, but we can't count on it. Still, the snow might give us a chance to cover our tracks. Let's go."
Robyn turned to the faerie dragon. "You didn't happen to see anything we could use for shelter, did you? Near here?"
Newt shook his head. "You mean like a house? Or a castle? Nah… there's nothing around here but the ruins of that big firbolg lair we burned down."
"Ruins?" Pawldo's eyes lighted. "Where? How far?"
"Oh, not far" Newt replied, shrugging. "In fact, they're just over the next patch of water. But why do -"
"Is there enough left of them that we could take shelter there?" asked Tristan.
"I should say not!" Newt sniffed at the very thought. "Why, it's damp and drafty, and there's soot all over the tunnels, and it's stiff huge. I can't imagine why you'd even think of such a thing!"
"It's better than these naked trees! Can you lead us there?" Tristan tried to direct the dragon's attention.
"What? Oh, sure. But, hey, aren't we going to have something to eat first? I'm starved! I suppose you guys sat around here all afternoon and took it easy, but I've been -"
"The ruins! Take us there now! Then you can eat!"
"Humph! No need to get angry about it. I guess too much rest can do that to a person. All right, all right. I'll take you there!"
The snowstorm continued to grow in fury as the party once again plodded into the fens. Tristan hoped that the dragon was right and that there was enough left of the firbolg stronghold to provide them some shelter. Though the deathbirds remained invisible somewhere in the storm, the king knew that they were doomed unless they gained protection from the snow and wind beside the warmth of a fire.
* * * * *
Thick snow swirled in an eddy, gathering against a sheer rock wall. The drift grew quickly, covering the narrow shelf to a depth of several feet. Above, a craggy face of granite soared upward and disappeared into the night. Below yawned a vast chasm.
The only movement here was the endless shifting and blustering of the snow. But then came a more solid motion, and a figure appeared, climbing slowly along the steep shelf. It walked upright, like a human, yet it was heavily muffled in a