The Druid Queen - Douglas Niles [78]
"Greetings, fellow travelers!" The hearty voice emerged from the darkness, followed quickly by the bulky form of Parell Hyath, Exalted Inquisitor of Helm. The silver and golden thread gleamed against the white silk of his voluminous robe. Somehow he kept the garment immaculate, even after five days on horseback, five nights sleeping in his tent.
Keane cursed silently as the princess sat up straight, removing her hand from his.
"Hello," Alicia replied stiffly. His was an invasive presence, but throughout the march, she had forced herself to treat him with civility. Tonight, however, his arrival might as well have doused ice water over the fire.
"Does our quarry draw near? Are there reports from your scouts?" the patriarch inquired, settling himself on a fallen log a little back from the low fire.
"The men of Llyrath have found the path of the firbolgs," she replied. "But it's a cold trail, nearly a week old."
"Any sign of your father, then?" Hyath's eyebrows, which nearly met in the middle, came together in a questioning, even concerned, frown.
"No, nothing," Alicia said bitterly. She turned back to Keane. "We've got to pick up the pace! Too much time has passed already, and I don't want it to be too late by the time we get there!"
"Now, my child… I don't believe-" the cleric began, but Alicia cut him off with a sharp gesture.
"We don't know what to believe! That's why it's so important to move quickly." She stopped to think, and both men tactfully remained silent for a few moments.
"Tomorrow we'll break camp an hour before dawn," she declared. "The packs are lighter now, with so much of the food gone, so we'll also add another hour to the evening's march."
Alicia's eyes saddened, and she looked at Keane. "That is, if you think that the men…"
"I said they'd follow you to the Abyss, and I meant it!" he replied.
"I hope you're right," she said sadly. For a moment, Keane wondered if he felt any of the warmth in her voice that had been so full just a few moments before. He might have, or it could have been just a figment of his imagination.
* * * * *
"What about the plan? We win the fight-then we get a boat!" snarled Baatlrap, confronting Thurgol on the dock-side of Codscove. The huge troll's thin lips were drawn back, revealing his jagged fangs, while he held his massive and knobby fists planted firmly on his hips.
The firbolg chieftain and his twelve kinsman had, with great difficulty, pulled the Princess of Moonshae to wharfside. Thurgol clambered out of the rocking ship and bumped into the troll, knocking Baatlrap backward a step.
"The boat came to shore!" barked the firbolg. He was too delighted with his prize to pay more than mild attention to the hulking troll. "We took it!"
The pair stood amid the throng of huge, boisterous humanoids on the waterfront of Codscove. Wounded trolls, as they healed, limped across the trampled commons to join them. The remnants of the human defenders, recognizing their cause as lost, had fled the field several minutes before. For the time being, even the trolls were too tired to pursue.
Nearby the ruins of the shantytown still smoldered, while the gruff, profane sounds of firbolg revelry continued to rock the stone-walled warehouse.
"Humans all fled, the cowards!" gloated the troll. "We trolls routed them!"
"Good fight," Thurgol agreed easily. He turned to watch his impromptu crew members grappling with ropes and thwarts, trying to secure the ship to the dock. "Stay there. Hold the ropes!" he commanded finally.
"Leave ship here," Baatlrap said, drawing Thurgol's suspicious attention. "Whole army go after the humans. Kill all of them!" The troll's eyes drifted casually over to Garisa, who stood at the waterfront with the Silverhaft Axe at her side. The old hag scowled back, unintimidated.
The firbolg chieftain blinked in surprise, studying the recalcitrant troll. Then he scowled, drawing his heavy brows down over his craggy face in an expression that was