Heirs of Prophecy - Lisa Smedman [28]
"These woods used to be part of Cormanthor, didn't they?" she asked Dray.
He nodded.
"I've heard of a place called the Tangled Trees, where the wild elves are said to live. How close is it-are we under any danger of attack?"
Dray waved a hand at the forest to their right. "It's somewhere in that direction, but don't worry, Thazienne, my dear," he reassured her, patting her hand. "It's deep within the forest, at least three days' march from here. The wild elves shy away from the road. We've nothing to fear from them."
Larajin squinted ahead into the mist and saw that it was thinning. The wizard must have completed his task. A breeze that was probably magical, given the muggy stillness of the air elsewhere in the wood, was blowing the last of the mist into the woods at the side of the road.
"I'm going ahead to talk to Klarsh," she told Dray. She jerked a thumb in the direction of the sellswords. "I think you'd better see to them. If you don't, they'll drink all of your cargo."
Dray swallowed the last of the ice wine and laid the empty bottle on the floor at his feet.
"I suppose you're right," he said with a sigh. "It is time we got moving, anyhow. I'd like to get to Essembra in time for a hot meal and a bath, to wash the dust from my hair."
He tied off the reins and chmbed down from the wagon. As he walked away, Larajin reached for her bag. Holding it in front of her body, she chose her moment carefully-when Dray was busy shaking a finger at a
bored-looking Enik-and slipped down from the wagon. She jogged up the road, keeping the wagon between herself and the men, hoping that Enik would be too busy working his magic on Dray and Paltar to notice. She felt guilty abandoning them-both seemed like decent men- but sticking around seemed like a bad idea. She might be able to counter a simple charm, but she didn't know any spells that would protect her from more than a dozen drunken men.
Hopefully, it would be some time before anyone noticed she was gone. It would take Dray some time to get the caravan moving again-especially if Enik "persuaded" him to join in another round of wine. By the time they looked around, she would be well into the woods. The only problem was that she had to get far ahead of the wizard before entering the forest. His magical wind had rather quickly blown the mist to either side of the road. Slow to dissipate, it clung between the trees in wispy patches, drifting to a halt when the breeze Klarsh had summoned was gone.
The area that had been cleared lay just ahead of where Dray had halted his wagon, an expanse of putrefying vegetation that befouled the road and spread several paces beyond it, into the woods. The larger trees to either side of the road were still whole, but their trunks were blistered and cracked where the magical mist had washed over them like a roiling tide.
Larajin rounded a bend in the road and breathed a sigh of relief, realizing that she was hidden from Enik's sight. A patch of blighted vines squished under the soft leather of her boots, lending a foul odor to the air,. She nearly stepped on a dead mouse that had been caught by the mist. It lay on its back, limbs contorted and mouth gaping wide. She kneeled for a moment to offer up a quick prayer for its soul, passing her hand once over its tiny corpse-then winced as a wisp of mist that still clung to the ground stung her skin.
Stealing a glance at the treetops, she was relieved to
see a familiar flash of turquoise some distance behind where the caravan had stopped. The tressym had stayed well away from the mist, thank the goddess.
A pace or two ahead, Klarsh stood with hands on hips, surveying the damage his wand had wrought. He was an older man, with thinning gray hair and a hard,