Trewsday, 2nd of Wedmath, Year 1417 Shire-reckoning
Pren Gwydh, Somewhere in Dunland
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| The Mange-rider |
"This is terrible!" I exclaimed. As if to add gravity to the situation, the Sun sank behind the western hills even as the words left my mouth and night sprang into the sky.
"I must agree," Lagodir dead-panned. "To think that someone values your head at thrice that of ours!"
"You're not funny," I huffed as I snatched the half-burnt billet out of his hands. "It's bad enough that the people of Dunland are so hostile to outsiders as it is -- now we'll have them hunting us through every crevice of this rocky land! Just who would want us dead?! And what is so special about me anyway? I would have thought myself the least valuable among all our Company. None of this makes any sense to me."
"I also find it puzzling," said Gaelira, her brows knit together in a worried frown. "We know already that both Izarrair and Inar are interested in our movements. Izarrair has certainly made his intentions clear, but what need would he have for publishing such a bounty when we have met him face-to-face twice already upon the Road? Yet each time he demurred. On the surface, I would think Inar might have more use for such proclamations since I do not believe the Seekers have ever had much of a presence in Dunland. The problem with that, however, is this would not be an effective way to keep the matter quiet -- certainly not if your objective was to capture someone and then extract information from them, which I assume is what Inar is after with us. Yet this poster clearly says we are wanted living or dead, and the dead speak not, truly or otherwise."
"You can ponder your riddles all you like," said Drodie as he leaned on his axe, "But to me this problem looks simple to solve. The billet says one can inquire at the Galtrev Trading Post for more information -- we have only to go there ourselves and no doubt many questions will be answered."
"I agree with Drodie in principle," said Nephyn. "I for one have had enough of this intrigue and wish for some plain answers for a change, and his plan seems a fairly certain way of getting them. I would suggest, however, that we not walk blindly into a trap or a hostile environment: let me enter Galtrev myself to learn what I can first. I alone among us might be able to blend into the surroundings."
"Perhaps," said Lagodir, "But you have not considered one thing: this poster may have included drawings of our likenesses upon it as such things often do. From this paper we cannot tell because the top half has been burned away."
"True, I hadn't thought of that," said Nepyhn. "What, then, would you suggest?"
"From my earlier travels through Dunland I happen to know that Galtrev has multiple entrances," the Gondorian said. "There is a gate which faces south-west and another on the north side. Also, Galtrev is the largest and most important settlement in this land; it is a meeting of ways and a significant hub for trade, such as one will find in this region, and so it might not be uncommon to see a variety of folk there: Men, certainly, but also perhaps a few Dwarves on occasion. If we were to disguise ourselves and enter from either side of the city we would attract far less attention."
"That might work well enough for the three of you," I said, "But we have among us one Elf and one very un-Man-like hobbit who, I should point out, has absolutely no desire to enter Galtrev disguised as a sack of potatoes."
"Actually, I was thinking we might be able to make a fine Dwarf out of you," Lagodir replied with a grin, "If you would prefer it to posing as a bag of vegetables."
"I suppose that's the best offer I'm likely to get under the circumstances," I sighed. "And what about Gaelira?"
"I have managed to pass as a Woman on other occasions when I have journeyed through the villages of mortals," the she-Elf answered. "I should be able to do the same here if I can somehow procure a sample of garments from one of the locals."
"Dunlending raiment would greatly aid Nephyn and I as well," said Lagodir, "But I am unsure how we might come to possess such things, unless someone else has any ideas."
"I do not, at least at this moment," said Gaelira, "But I do have a concern: the craban we saw earlier had come from the direction of Lhan Tarren and was making its way south as if with a purpose. I wonder very much what it might mean." We all turned our thought to the matter, for it was widely known that the crebain of Dunland were frequently used as spies and messengers. While we were fairly well convinced (save perhaps Lagodir) that Elder Riagan of Lhan Tarren did not wish us ill, it would be unwise to assume all his people were of the same mind. We decided to follow the bird's path at least for a short distance and see if we might learn anything.
It was a quiet night with a bright moon, so we were able to see and hear rather well despite the darkness. The way south climbed up a steep ridge topped by a rocky moor, and the going was rough and slow for some while. We had thought to reach the crest then have a look about, and I confess I was both expecting and hoping to find nothing -- it seemed folly to try and follow the path of a bird through such harsh terrain (at night, no less), and I was plenty tired from the day's events already. As soon as we got to the top of the ridge, however, I could see bed and a rest would remain some time off: there, not a furlong to the south, was the light of a considerable number of torches and campfires! Even from that distance we could tell it was an encampment and no village. We went forward with caution and steeped in curiosity.
Using the cover of night, we crept quite near the outer edges of the fires. A high palisade wall suddenly loomed up in front of us, complete with rustic towers and gates. We saw two Men standing guard outside the one of these portals, and Nephyn signed to us that we should take cover behind a nearby boulder to try and overhear anything the guards might be saying to each other. This we did, and here is what we heard:
"You mean you didn't know?"
"Of course not: no one ever tells us anything. What's happened?"
"Why, word just got in -- the Outriders are headed this way!"
"The Outriders? Who says? You can't trust most of what you hear, especially in this part of Dunland."
"No, it's true, I tell you. Guto's crow flew in not an hour back, went straight for the boss, too."
"Ah, then at least Guto's good for something. Can't say the same for the rest of the Stag-clan."
"That's right, and you know what it means, don't you? Loot enough for us all!"
"Aye, I've seen the bounty posters all over -- you can't miss them if you go anywhere within a mile of Galtrev. What do you suppose it is they're wanted for?"
"Who cares? It's no skin off my nose, nor yours either."
"Can't argue that. Do you think the boss'll let us form some search parties and go out after them?"
"I wish he would, but the boss don't seem to care as much for loot as he used to -- not since he started taking orders from them. If it were up to me I'd be out there hunting them down right now."
"Me too! I could use that kind of coin."
"You and me, both. Give me just one of those Outriders and that's a hundred silver right there. Let's see Esult turn her nose up at that the next time I'm in Galtrev!"
"Ha! Wishful thinking though, isn't it? I mean, the boss'll never go for it -- not with all that merchandise we've got piled up in the camp."
"Bah! The slaves aren't going anywhere! They're caged up, aren't they? I say we go on the hunt ourselves: just you and me! More loot to go around, ain't it?"
"Ha ha ha!"
After listening to this exchange, we withdrew fully behind the rock to discuss our options.
"So we are betrayed by the people of Lhan Tarren after all," said Lagodir through clenched teeth. "A thousand curses upon these Dunlendings and all their honourless progeny forever."
"That will not help us now," chided Nephyn, "And we know only that Guto, the elder's grandson, has betrayed us -- we know nothing beyond that fact."
"However it happened, we know that word has already spread of our whereabouts," said Gaelira grimly. "This is an unfortunate situation indeed. Shall we attack and reveal ourselves, or shall we retreat and conceal or movements but leave the captives of these brutes to their fates?"
"Honour demands we attempt to free whoever is held within this camp," said Lagodir, "Whatever the danger may be to us personally."
"I agree," said Nephyn, "We cannot abandon them now that we know of their plight."
And so it was decided. Our hastily contrived plan was to sneak into the camp, free whatever captives we could, and vanish into the hills without being discovered. We managed to subdue the two gate-guards without much trouble, but that was about as long as our plan lasted.
It turned out that the captives were not held near the back of the encampment, as we had expected, but were instead clustered in metal cages quite near the front area. As we snuck through the entrance, I suppose one of them caught sight of us because there was a stifled cry of gladness from somewhere, no doubt one of the women unable to contain her joy at seeing a rescue in progress. This instantly had the guards on alert and battle became unavoidable.
As we had seen previously, the Dunlendings were fierce combatants, but they were untrained and poorly armed. It was not difficult for our experienced Company to put them to flight, but not until several of their number had been slain. We knew we had only moments before the slavers returned with reinforcements, so we quickly threw open every cage we could find and ordered the prisoners to follow us to freedom. Once this was done we escaped into the moor as horns blared all throughout the Dunlending camp. But clouds providentially covered the moon, and we melted like shadows into the crags of the hilltops.
We led the captives a short distance northward, down from the moor and into the safety of some thick shrubs. Very few of those people spoke the Common Tongue, but we were able to discern that they were indeed of the Stag-clan and were almost certainly the survivors of the Dragon-clan's attack on the southern Herd-lands we had seen decimated just yesterday. The only other thing we were able to learn was that the Dragons had planned to ship the prisoners "away South," but we did not know what that might mean.
Most of the women and children wished to rest where they were for the night, but we and their men-folk insisted that they make at once for the safety of Lhan Tarren. We urged them also to flee with their people into whatever safe places they knew in the hills, lest the Dragon-clan return for them, and it seemed that they understood us. They thanked us many times in their own language and we wished them good fortune, but Lagodir was unmoved.
"Go, and know that no love of mine goes with you," he said as he dismissed them. "But be sure to tell your elder that Guto, his son's son, acts in defiance of his grandsire's will. Gondor's justice will not be stayed even here in your homeland; should I ever come within sight of your people again, his life shall be forfeit to me in satisfaction of my vengeance. Go!" And the people fled before him.
While the Stag-clan moved west, our Company moved south and east. I was dead-tired on my feet, but it was crucial that we put more distance between ourselves and the Dragon-clan encampment to the south; already we could hear the blowing of horns and the baying of hounds as they hunted us among the rocks. We made our way among the shrubs and brambles for hours until Gaelira finally allowed us to rest. I was asleep in an instant, too tired even to eat anything.
Hevensday, 3rd of Wedmath, Year 1417 Shire-reckoning
Near the City of Galtrev, Somewhere in Dunland
I was awakened this morning by a gnawing hunger. I groaned as I rolled over and fished through my pack for some dried fruit and cram. Every muscle in my body was sore from yesterday's exertions, to say nothing of the unforgiving landscape which had served as my bed.
The weather was somewhat grey and drear, as if rain might be on its way, but there was no sign of thunder or even a single raindrop. I found the others already working around at various tasks, and it soon became clear just what was afoot.
Nephyn had pinched three tunics off some Dunlendings we had felled the night before, and she was arraying herself and Gaelira in them. Lagodir was doing the same while he and the Elf were using a dark brown dye Nephyn had made by stewing some walnuts out of our food supplies to darken their faces, hands, and arms. Drodie had an easy task -- he simply put away his heavy armour and outfitted himself in his simple traveling gear which would make him pass for a merchant in almost any country. I felt a sinking feeling in my stomach as I realized I, too, would have to don some sort of disguise if I wanted to avoid entering Galtrev while impersonating a lump of cargo.
"Ah, Padryc, you're up," said Nephyn. "Here, you are going to have to wear one of Drodie's spare tunics and boots: it's the best we could come up with for someone your size." I pulled them on. The outfit hung on me like a tent and the boots were easily three sizes too large.
"I feel utterly ridiculous," I whined, "And I imagine I look much the same. How am I ever going to fool anyone going about like this? I can barely move for all this extra clothing!"
"Take your backpack and strap it on backwards," said Lagodir as he assisted me in doing so. "Then it will serve to fill out the tunic while also giving you a very Dwarf-like belly." His idea was actually quite effective, I had to admit.
"As for your feet," mused Nephyn while she bit her lower lip. "I suppose we could try stuffing the boots with any spare clothing we have handy? I can't think of any other remedy." This was attempted and it proved sufficient, though I felt very self-conscious about my gait afterward.
"And what about my face?" I asked, secretly hoping to identify some insurmountable difficulty that would get me out of the whole silly affair. "Who ever heard of a beardless Dwarf?"
"No one!" said Drodie with a grin, "And you shall not be the first. Wear this: I made it this morning while you slept. It would be better if it were braided or more properly cared for, but it will have to do in a pinch." He held out for me what looked like a matted rug on a bit of twine.
"Good gracious, where on earth did you get that beastly thing?" I cried. "Did you maul and skin some hapless creature in the dark hours before dawn, all to see me hang a pelt on my face? The very idea!"
"Not quite," said Nephyn as they all laughed at me. "We took some clippings off the side of a wandering cow which crossed near our path. Then we washed the strands in a brook and strung them into this wire. See, the loops go over your ears, like this, then your own hat shall go over all to complete the picture. There you are! Still a little on the short side, but as fine a Dwarf as you could ask for, all things considered. How does it feel to have a beard?"
"Itchy," I replied, "Although I am grateful that you bathed the hairs before attaching them to me. While I may not be the most convincing Dwarf to look at I have no fear that I absolutely do smell the part. Drodie, when was the last time you washed out your traveling pack? This tunic reeks of so many pungent odours I can't quite decide whether it smells beefy, musky, sweaty, or most like the inside of a beer-barrel! I am quite sure I shall offend anyone that comes within ten feet of me."
"Then you are ready for your performance!" the rest of them cheered. "To Galtrev!"
As we walked south-eastward on the road, we discussed on plans further. Nephyn and Gaelira would enter the city through the northern gate while Lagodir, Drodie, and I would attempt the south-gate. We would converge on the Galtrev trading post (wherever that happened to be, exactly, since none of us knew), and learn whatever we could before exiting the town again and meeting at a pre-arranged location to discuss our findings and decide upon the next steps. It all sounded very adventurous and almost fun as we marched casually down the path, but I couldn't help remembering that we were hunted wanderers in a hostile country. One hundred silver pennies was a lot of money even in decent places, and there was no telling what a poor farmer or trapper might attempt in order to collect a bounty that was probably a good deal more money than the average Dunlending might hope to see over the course of his entire lifetime.
The road began to descend lightly while the trees around us became thicker, spreading their vast arms overhead in a wide, unbroken canopy. These were oaks, mostly, and they seemed to be impressively old. The undergrowth off to either side was fierce and tangled, and this had been my impression of Dunland generally since we arrived -- it was a wild, dangerous country, but also possessed of a certain untamed beauty only visible to the discerning eye. In the Shire or the Bree-land, one felt as if the land was one's home; tamed and domesticated, content to exist at the whims of the masters which tilled it and arranged its gardens. Here, one felt as if the land belonged to itself, and you were only there as a tenant or even an unwelcome guest. I had heard strange tales about the beliefs of the Dunlendings, of course, and I had always thought them backward and primitive. But once I beheld the land in which they fought every day to sustain themselves, I began to understand how one might believe that savage and uncanny things did indeed live all around you in every crevice, and I marveled at the strength of a people which could maintain the will to survive in such a place.
After a while Lagodir informed us we were drawing near to Galtrev, according to his memories of that region. We soon came to a fork in the road, one leg of which ran south, the other running east. We split into our respective groups and made ready to enter the village. My heart began to race with excitement and I started fussing over my disguise, worried it would prove inadequate.
"Don't worry, Padryc,," said Lagodir with a smile. "Drodie and I will be right beside you. Just hang your head and mutter to yourself about how the tolls are too high and you will be fine."
A short time later we came to the south-gate of Galtrev. There were guards present, but they took one look at us and waved us through -- apparently tradesmen and merchants we not an uncommon sight in that city at all, just as we had hoped.
"That was almost too easy," I whispered to Drodie once we were through.
"Aye," the Dwarf whispered back. "Let us hope our ladies had an equal amount of luck on the far side."
We made our way through the town. The road climbed a gentle slope then curved toward the north before passing under a second wooden gateway. On the other side of this, we saw a wide marketplace which was busy with merchants and craftsmen going to and fro on business. There were many huts and areas covered with thatched overhangs while the paths were lined with low walls of piled stone. It struck me as rustic yet simultaneously industrious.
At first I wondered how we would ever manage to find Nephyn and Gaelira, in disguise as they were, through the hustle and bustle of the crowds, but in fact it wasn't long before we spotted them on the other side of the market. Nephyn was strutting around like a prize turkey as if she had just personally pulled the wings off a dragon with her bare hands while Gaelira cowered near her with a submissive and mousy posture. It dawned on me that those two were role-playing: Nephyn's outfit featured the crimson tabard of the Dragon-clan while Gaelira wore the indigo of the Stag, and so their mock relationship suddenly made sense. We turned our attention to locating the Trading Post mentioned on the bounty poster and it did not take long to find: on the western edge of the marketplace was a sort of open-air amphitheatre, complete with a fire-pit, benches for onlookers, and a stage for the auctioneers. We made our way there then found a secluded corner to meld our two groups together.
"This is the place," whispered Lagodir. "Now we just need to find out who to contact about the bounty and we will flush out whoever is behind -- Padryc, what's wrong?"
My jaw hung slack and my eyes bugged wide. There, on the far side of the Trading Post, was a table piled high with beer-flagons and tankards of all sizes. There were a great many Dunlendings around it, but my sight had fallen on the one Man seated at that table: he was less than average height with a sharp nose, a thin black beard, and small, beady eyes.
"It can't be," I breathed. "What the devil is he doing here?"
"Enro Smuin!" hissed Nephyn, almost too loud for comfort, and she immediately stormed away from us to confront him!
"Nephyn, wait!" said Gaelira as she tried to grab her wrist, but it was too late: the huntress stalked right into the midst of the throng while the four of us tried to casually make our way closer in order to overhear what was said and come to her defence, if necessary.
"Enro Smuin?" Nephyn called above the din.
"Who wants him?" came that snide voice from somewhere inside the ruckus. I saw the Man lean forward from where he had been reclining. Nephyn held the bounty poster up, squarely in his face.
"I have information," she said, and lowered the paper.
"Well, aren't you the productive one, my --" his voice caught as his little eyes nearly popped out of his head. "You! What are you doing here, you blood-soaked harpy?"
"I could ask you the same thing," Nephyn retorted. "It's a long way to Ost Forod, old friend." Smuin quickly composed himself, but his eyes remained glued to Nephyn.
"Hmph," he snorted. "Is that such a surprise? I go where there's coin, and plenty of it. Then it was Ost Forod, today, it is Galtrev. What of it? Besides, I'd be more concerned about myself if I were you, dearie -- word has it you're not too popular in these parts."
"And I don't suppose you'd have anything to do with that, would you?"
"Me?" Smuin laughed. "What's that supposed to mean? Someone wants a few heads collected and I merely help facilitate -- it's business. Speaking of which, where is the rest of your merry little troop? Killed? Eaten? Gone home?"
"I want to know who is so interested in catching... these people. And why."
"Oh, and I'm just supposed to tell you all about it, am I?" Smuin cackled again. "What did you plan to do? Appeal to my sense of virtue?" Nephyn raised an eyebrow.
"How about your purse?" Smuin squinted at her and leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table with an leering grin on his thin lips.
"So," he said, lowering his voice to the point I could barely catch the words, "Maybe you have learned a thing or two since you and I last crossed paths. And you know me: always on the lookout for an opportunity. There's nothing that says I can't benefit in some small way while carrying out my part of a deal, is there? Tell you what: there's a certain nuisance not far from Galtrev that's causing me no shortage of irritation. Deal with that for me, and I'll tell you what you want to know."
"I'm sure I can manage," Nephyn replied. "What sort of nuisance?"
"A goblin," said Smuin. "He's known as the Mange-rider and he's been terrorizing the people of Galtrev (not that I care too much about that), but he's taken to mauling my couriers and delivery-men, and Enro Smuin does not stand for interruptions in business. Kill him, bring me whatever loot he's gathered in that den of his north-east of town, and then we'll talk." Nephyn stood up.
"Don't go anywhere," she said as she stared daggers at the little Man. Smuin grinned and shrugged his shoulders.
"Would I lie?" he asked with a wink.
We allowed Nephyn to get some distance between herself and the slimy tradesman before convening once more to talk in low voices.
"One or two of us ought to remain here to keep an eye on Smuin," Nephyn told us. "He acted perfectly confident, but I wouldn't put it past him to try and give us the slip."
"It's too dangerous," countered Gaelira. "We're surrounded by people who would be perfectly happy to turn any of us in and now Smuin will be on the watch -- we cannot trust that our disguises will fool him so easily as they might these others."
"Also, we know little of this enemy he has sent us to dispatch," Lagodir pointed out. "I judge it best that we remain together for now. If he flees, it may still work to our advantage -- someone in Galtrev would likely notice him leaving and mayhap we could overtake him in the Wild. There, we would be free to extract information from him using... less civilised means."
Once we were all agreed, we split up and made our individual ways to the north-gate of the city. We got well out of sight from the walls before removing our disguises and beginning the search for the Mange-rider's lair. To cut a long story short, we eventually found the place a good two miles or so north-east of Galtrev, but the terrain was very rough and uneven, so it took a while to get there. We were trying to be stealthy, but sneaking up on a Warg is always a tricky prospect and it almost cost us dearly in this endeavor.
We were scrambling over the rocky land, huffing and puffing from the exertion, when Drodie suddenly stood upright and froze. The rest of us halted.
"What is it?" Gaelira asked him. Drodie sniffed the air.
"Do you smell...?" Just then some nearby bushes exploded in a mass of leaves and hair! A goblin, saddled astride a large, ruddy-coloured Warg charged straight at us. It crashed headlong into Nephyn, who was sent sprawling and did not get back up. The Warg bore down on Drodie as I rushed to hide behind a tree. Our Dwarf had no time to so much as retrieve his axe from where it hung at his belt, but he had brought his shield forward, and so was able to at least partly absorb the shock of the Mange-rider's initial assault. He staggered backward under the force and then I heard him cry out in pain: his left ankle had become trapped in a rocky crevice. He was stuck! The Warg continued to lunge for his throat while Drodie used his shield to cover his entire body, but he could take no other action in his defence. Lagodir shouted his challenge and came on the attack wielding his two-handed curved, Elven sword with Gaelira by his side. This forced the goblin to wheel his steed around and face the new threat.
"Well, well! Looks like the local prey have finally learned to start bringing warriors with them," he cackled. "More fun for me! Must mean there's good pickings to be had somewhere among this lot." I saw the goblin's fangs bared in a toothy grin as he spurred his mount at my friends.
Lagodir side-stepped the charge, but his attacks were easily deflected by the goblin's spear from atop his steed. Gaelira was trying to fend off the Warg itself as she parried and thrusted with sword and staff at the beast's jaws. I was still concealed behind my tree while Drodie was trying to extract his foot from whatever hole in which it was caught. Nephyn was stirring, but she was still prone on the ground and looked to be in a great deal of pain. I suddenly realized the battle had moved quite close to me; if I was going to be of any use to my companions, I would have to act fast.
And so I did: without even taking time to really think it through, I had unsheathed the bright Elven dagger given to me by Mallacai all those months ago when we had first met in the Halls of Night. It seemed that the Mange-rider had no idea I was there, so I ran quickly but quietly up behind him and cut the leather thong which held his saddle in place. With a cry, the Mange-rider tumbled off his mount into the grass! I darted behind a boulder out of harm's way, but the goblin and his steed were far more concerned with the blades of Lagodir and Gaelira: without his height advantage, the battle was turning against the Mange-rider. Lagodir's guarded stance quickly turned into an onslaught, and it was mere seconds before his superior sword-work had broken his opponent's defenses and gashed a massive wound through the goblin's abdomen, ending him. Once this was done, the Warg had to contend with two skilled adversaries at once, and even the most fierce animal can only attack in one direction at a time. With a bit patience and some careful flanking, Gaelira was eventually able to land several blows to the Warg's hulking ribs. Thus wounded, it was only a matter of moments before the beast was felled, although it took quite a few heavy sword-thrusts to finally kill the thing off for good.
With the battle over, we began to take stock of our situation. We checked on Nephyn first. Her collision with the Warg had driven the breath from her body, but she was otherwise unhurt, though she said she expected to be extremely sore come the morrow. Drodie, meanwhile, had turned his foot where it got caught in the stones, and he went halt on that leg for a few days afterward. We did our best to relieve the pain by wrapping the ankle heavily in some spare garments, but we weren't quite sure whether it did much good and the Dwarf seemed to take a strange sense of honour in suffering from the pain anyway.
"Serves me right for allowing myself to be taken at unawares so," he chuckled. "That's the last time I leave my axe sheathed when I think I smell Warg on the air!"
"Even the land itself is adversarial in Dunland," said Lagodir darkly. "These moors are a treacherous place for sword-play." There was a heavy thunk behind us and we all whipped round, expecting some new enemy had found us in the forest, but it was only Nephyn; she had used the Sword of Ringdor to behead the Mange-rider where he lay.
"What are you doing, Nephyn?" laughed Lagodir. "Was the goblin not dead enough for you?"
"A little souvenir for our friend Enro Smuin," she explained with a devilish grin as she rammed the gruesome token into a drawstring sack. "I have no doubt he'll appreciate my thoughtfulness. Speaking of which, we are supposed to bring him anything we can find that this filth might have stolen from the people of Galtrev. Let's see if there is a lair nearby."
We discovered it not far from the site of our battle, up a gentle slope to the north-east and within what appeared to be an abandoned copper mine. The collection we found was not extensive, but it would still be worth a great deal of coin in those parts, so we shouldered the lot and made our way back to town, stopping to reapply our disguises along the way. It was well after the seventh hour from noon by the time we returned to the Galtrev Trading Post.
But Enro Smuin was not there. By casually inquiring of some people in area, we learned he was seen leaving the city through the north-gate then turning west. We were inclined to curse Smuin's cowardice and treachery, but in truth none of us were truly surprised. We hastened to follow his trail, hopeful that we might overtake him in the wilderness and there have him at our mercy.
Unfortunately, the path he took led straight through a den of wild wolves; they were many and vicious, and so we were unable to follow that way. Despondent, we sought a good place to camp in the gathering gloom as the day came to its end. We chose a location a good distance from the walls of Galtrev and screened by a row of rocks and trees, but we would not take the chance of lighting a fire so near to the city.
"I knew we should never have let that oily weasel out of our sight," Nephyn groused. She pulled the Mange-rider's severed head from her pouch by its lank hair then hurled it into a thicket. "All of our efforts this day have been wasted."
"Not entirely wasted," said Gaelira, who seemed rather upbeat about the whole turn of events. "I am disappointed that, though I looked and looked, I saw no sign of Edgerin within the city, but it does not really surprise me as he was never one for crowds. This business with Smuin, however, is only just beginning. We have forced him out of the city, and that makes him more vulnerable. True, we must still track him and find him, but if we can manage that then we will have much more success gaining information from him than we would within the walls of Galtrev, surrounded by people. He has made a serious error in this."
"I agree with Gaelira," said Lagodir, "Although I suspect Smuin knows this as well. Which makes me wonder why he would be willing to run the risk of being captured outside the city?"
"Perhaps he fears us," said Drodie as he gnawed on a salted pork-chop, "And would rather not face our wrath upon our return?"
"Perhaps," Lagodir mused quietly. "But I worry less about what he might be running from than whom he might be running to."
"Be that as it may, we must await the light of dawn if we are to pick up his trail," said Gaelira. "It is night already; searching in the dark by torchlight will likely yield nothing and would only attract the attention of Galtrev's guards. Let us rest while we can and resume the hunt in the morning."
With that settled, we dozed in the quiet darkness. The torches were lit on the walls of Galtrev and the unknown songs of its people drifted out to greet us, hard and riotous in their strange tongue. When these went silent, I could hear the call of many night-fowl which were unknown to me. Once again I felt myself a very small and frightened stranger in an alien land which held no love for outsiders. Even the stars overhead seemed to be out of their usual places to me as I lay on the rocky earth. I slowly wandered down the paths of sleep with the peculiar chants of the Dunlendings thrumming in my ears, and I dreamed twisted dreams of enormous wild animals with great, shining eyes. Stags, oxen, boar, elk, and foxes, all seeking me as I flitted amidst the shadows of giant tree-trunks through a misty, unending forest of grey.
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