The Druid Queen - Douglas Niles [72]
No sooner had he made his decision than the great, coiling serpent squirmed from the underbrush, slithering directly into the wolf's path. Newt forced himself to concentrate, quivering with eagerness as he awaited the canine's reaction.
Surprisingly, the wolf ignored the snake, even though the creature had formed a massive coil right before it! Instead, the wolf sat on its haunches and focused bright yellow eyes directly on the invisible faerie dragon above him.
Newt was so surprised that he almost fell off his limb, grasping with his foreclaws at the last moment. He looked at himself-yes, he was still invisible. Yet he couldn't avoid the sensation that the wolf stared directly at him. Somehow the animal knew the faerie dragon was there!
In another moment, the creature rose to his feet and loped quickly down the trail, running right through the snake! Disappointed, Newt looked after the departing carnivore, wondering what had gone wrong.
Then another scent came to him, wafting on the gentle breeze. Newt sprang into the air, the snake, the wolf, and everything else immediately forgotten.
* * * * *
Alicia and Keane followed the clear map Robyn had sketched for them. They found the pass into Myrloch Vale with no difficulty, though the narrow trail required the riders to dismount and the entire column of men-at-arms had to traverse the route in single file. At its crest, the twisting footpath curved around the exposed shoulder of a stony bluff, with a torrential stream carving its way through a gorge four hundred feet below.
Their march remained steady and well paced. Each man carried a knapsack filled with a plentiful supply of rations, and though the weight of the packs slowed them slightly, the fact that they didn't have to take time to hunt more than compensated for their slightly slower marching speed. In fact, each day they didn't seek a place to camp until less than an hour of daylight remained.
True to the queen's prediction, by nightfall, the army had reached the floor of the vale and found a comfortable camping place among the trees.
After giving the order to settle in for the night, the princess found herself reflecting on the responsibilities of her command. She felt humbled by her role, realizing that four hundred men depended on her for direction and leadership, that the benefits or tolls of this expedition would fall upon her shoulders. Yet at the same time, she felt a blazing determination to succeed, to follow her father northward and be ready to strike a blow against the army of giant-kin.
She found the silent presence of Keane reassuring. For once, the mage traveled without complaining, as if he, too, appreciated the splendors of Myrloch Vale.
Even the cleric of Helm blended easily with the rest of the party, despite his large size and the fact that he was one of the few who was mounted. He spoke sometimes to the men, although he camped somewhat off to the side from the rest of the troops. Nevertheless, he rose early and showed no difficulty maintaining the steady pace of the march.
"How far ahead of us do you think Father is?" Alicia asked Keane on the third night of their march.
"I imagine he's picking up a little distance each day. He might be all the way to Winterglen by now."
Alicia's eyes swung unconsciously to the north. For a brief moment, she felt a wave of hopelessness. How would they ever catch up to the king before his foolish quest got him killed?
Keane seemed to sense her unease. He didn't say anything, but instead laid a hand gently on her shoulder. The pressure of his fingers against her skin brought a flicker of hope to the young princess. Then he smiled, and her reciprocal expression came easily. She began to believe that, just perhaps, they would succeed.
* * * * *
Twang!
To Tavish, the sound of her harpstring seemed like a booming crash of thunder, easily the loudest sound that had ever occurred. She froze, pressing herself farther under the rowing