Crystal Gorge

Kathlak scratched his cheek, squinting at the floor. “If the weather holds, it’ll probably take a month or so. I’m sure that a lot of them are out in the forest hunting winter meat, and hunters are sometimes hard to find when they’re busy.”

Dahlaine considered it. “I think we should all home in on Mount Shrak,” he decided. “It’s centrally located, so we can go from there to any likely invasion route. I’ll get word to the Matans, and they’ll be there in a week or so.”

“What about the Atazakans?” Kathlak asked.

“I don’t think they’d be very useful. Gather as many archers as you can chase out of the forest and then come to Mount Shrak.” Then Dahlaine smoothed his beard. “I think we’d better leave somebody who’s familiar with Gunda and Veltan here to guide the Malavi horsemen when they arrive up here,” he said.

“I can take care of that,” Red-Beard said, “but I’ll need somebody to show me the way to Mount Shrak.”

“I know the way,” Athlan volunteered.

Kathlak shook his head. “I want you and Longbow to come with us. He’s familiar with the outlanders, and he can advise you when I make any mistakes, and then you can warn me.”

“Zathal knows the way to Mount Shrak, My Chief,” Athlan suggested. “He can show Red-Beard and the horse-soldiers how to get there.”

Kathlak nodded. “I think that just about covers everything, Dahlaine,” he said.

“Let’s get started, then,” Dahlaine said.

They went off toward the southeast through the deep forest Athlan had hunted since he’d been very young. He knew all of the trees, of course, and he knew the shortest route they should take. There was a slight breeze blowing in from the west, and, as always, the breeze set the eternally green trees to sighing almost as if the approach of winter made them sad and regretful.

“Mournful, aren’t they?” Longbow said quietly.

“Probably not,” Athlan replied. “It’s just the wind. Now the wind might be feeling sort of down, but I wouldn’t make any wagers on that. Weather goes through here all the time, and the trees sing to it as it goes by. For all I know, they’re trying to sing it to sleep.”

“If you happen to come across a song that puts the weather to sleep, you might want to remember how it goes. That could be very useful.” Longbow paused. “Deer,” he said quietly, pointing ahead of them with his chin.

“Not too big,” Athlan noted. “I don’t think I’d take that one. Let him grow up a bit.”

“Good idea,” Longbow agreed as the deer flicked his ears and ran off into the forest.

The burly outlander called “Sorgan” or sometimes “Captain” joined them. “I thought the trees down in Lady Zelana’s country were about as big as a tree could get,” he said, “but the ones around here are so tall that they probably tickle the moon’s tummy when she goes by.”

“Now that’s something I’d like to see,” Longbow said. “Do you think she might giggle if a tree happened to tickle her tummy?”

“I wouldn’t want to put any bets on it, Longbow,” Sorgan replied. “Around here, almost anything can happen—and sooner or later, it probably does.” He turned to Athlan. “Just how far would you say it is from here to Lord Dahlaine’s mountain?” he asked.

“Six days,” Athlan replied. “Maybe a week. It sort of depends on how steep the mountains between here and Matakan are. I’ve never been up in those mountains, so I’m not familiar with them.”

“Haven’t you ever hunted up there?”

Athlan shook his head. “The mountains are the country of the Bear Hunter Tribes. It wouldn’t be proper for me to go roaming around up there.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a bear,” the farmer Omago said.

“You’ve been lucky, then, Omago,” Athlan said. “Bears aren’t the nicest animals in the world. They’ve got big, sharp teeth, and their claws are longer than a man’s fingers. The mountains between here and Matakan are safe in the wintertime, because the bears aren’t awake then. Come spring, though, things start getting dangerous in bear country. When a bear wakes up from his winter nap, he’ll eat anything that moves—or so I’ve been told.”

“How big would you say that they are?” Omago asked.

“I saw a bearskin that was twelve feet long once,” Athlan replied. “The bear was probably about that tall.”

“Twelve feet?” Omago exclaimed.

“About that, yes. A full-grown bear isn’t the sort of animal that anybody with good sense wants to play with.”

“I can see why,” Omago said in an awed tone of voice. “Do those mountain tribes actually hunt monsters like that?”

“I’m told that they hunt in groups,” Athlan said. “If there are eight or ten men shooting arrows at a bear, they’ll probably be able to take him down. I wouldn’t really want to try it with only three or four, though.”

They came to another marshy area the following day, and this one was also on fire with flickering blue swamp-fire dancing across the stagnant water.

“Are all of these swamps on fire like this?” Sorgan asked.

“Most of them I’ve seen, yes,” Athlan replied.

“What sets them off?”

Athlan shrugged. “A spark of some kind, I’d guess. We get thunderstorms fairly often around here, and Dahlaine rides that pet thunderbolt of his when he’s in a hurry. Then, too, when the forest gets dry, it catches fire fairly often.” He looked around to get some idea of their exact location, then he smiled wryly. “Actually, though, this particular one was my fault. I was just a little too close to the marsh when I was setting up my camp one evening a few years ago, and when I tried to start my campfire, I suddenly had a lot more fire than I really wanted. I left in a hurry about then.”

“I wonder why,” Sorgan said.

They skirted around the north side of the marsh and crossed the indeterminate border into the rugged Bear Hunter territory late that afternoon.

They’d gone about a mile or so up a steep slope when they saw a burly fellow wearing a shaggy fur cloak sitting beside a small campfire. He stood up when Dahlaine approached him. “What took you so long?” he asked.

“There was some trouble along the border between Deer Hunter territory and Reindeer Land, Agath,” Dahlaine replied. “It took a while to get it straightened out. Is there a problem of some kind?”