The Druid Queen - Douglas Niles [83]
"I don't care who took the axe," Finellen snorted impatiently. "I just want it back!"
"I'll ride toward the town and see if I can confirm their movements," Brigit volunteered quickly. "If they continue along the coast to the east, it might be that you can angle through Winterglen and gain some ground on them."
"That would be too much of a risk-and besides, it's not necessary," Finellen replied with a firm shake of her head. "They've got to go east from Codscove. A march in the other direction would take them right into the middle of the biggest swamp on Gwynneth."
"I remember," Brigit agreed. "At the mouth of Codsrun Creek, isn't it?"
"Yup. That little stream just disappears when it gets within fifteen miles of the shore. It turns into a morass of mud flat and fen. Not a road or track through the whole thing, and not good, open forest like this, either," Finellen concluded.
"Then we've got to get ahead of them if we're going to do any good," Hanrald realized.
That prospect was daunting, at the very least. On their sturdy but short legs the dwarves had difficulty maintaining a speedy march. Now they faced the prospect of not only matching the monsters' pace, but also moving quickly enough to get ahead of them and then making a glorious, but quite probably doomed, attempt to block the pestilential advance.
"We're going to pick up the pace," Finellen announced loudly. The doughty warriors uttered not a single word of complaint, Hanrald noticed, impressed. Instead, they followed the cadence of their leader's commands, forming into their file and following steadily behind Finellen, Brigit, and Hanrald, the latter pair leading their trail-weary war-horses.
"We'll cut a line to the northeast," the dwarf explained. "That should put us nearly parallel to their advance, but gradually drawing closer to the coast. I hope they won't know we're here, but we'll have to take precautions."
"I'll ride on the point," Brigit offered. "That should give you fair warning. If I'm spotted, they still won't know there's a company of dwarves in the woods."
"Makes sense," agreed Finellen.
"It's too dangerous," Hanrald objected. "At least let me ride with you!"
Brigit glared at him, her almond eyes flashing. "I don't need you to tell me what's 'too dangerous'! And the chance of us both being spotted is far greater than I alone. After all, my mare has been raised as a woods runner."
Hanrald bit back a blunt reply. He knew that the proud sister knight was right. She'd been waging war, riding on campaign, for years before his birth. Yet a protective part of his nature worried about the thought of allowing her to ride into such danger.
"Besides," Finellen added, her tone surprisingly soft as she addressed Hanrald, "you're the only other rider among us. I was hoping you'd take the outrider position on our left flank. Just to make sure they don't try to get around us… you understand?"
"You're right," agreed the Earl of Fairheight. Indeed, he and Brigit had the only two horses in the whole force. What had he been thinking, to waste that speed and mobility by trailing along with Brigit? "But I still don't see how you intend to catch them when they can make such good time."
"Simple," replied Finellen with a casual shrug. "We'll just have to march all night."
* * * * *
A growing sense of urgency propelled the High King of Moonshae. Shallot thundered along at an easy lope, his broad hooves pounding the soft earth in steady cadence. Tristan and Newt had emerged from Myrloch Vale sometime during the previous day, and now they rode through Winterglen at a steady, mile-crunching pace.
"How come we can't stop and look around a little bit?" pouted the faerie dragon, still perched on the high pommel before the king. "I know there's waterfalls on the Codsrun, and some of them have great trout pools, too. Don't you like to eat anymore?"
"It's a good thing I don't like it as much as you remember," Tristan retorted cheerfully. "You've put a pretty good dent in my rations!"
"Oh, posh!