Terry Brooks - Bloodfire Quest

Skint left without a word, heading into the woods behind them, back toward the cliffs where Redden and the others had gone earlier. How long had it been now? Railing tracked the sun—what little of it he could distinguish—across the gray, hazy sky, a whitish blur sliding westward. When night fell they would be left in complete blackness unless the moon broke through. Farshaun Req came over and knelt beside him. “How is the leg doing, boy? Is it giving you much trouble?”

Railing snorted. “Only if I try to walk on it. Which I’d better learn to do fast if I want to get out of this. I can’t just lie around hoping someone can carry me everywhere.”

The old Rover clapped his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Well said. Wait here. Don’t go away.”

He disappeared into the trees, leaving Railing to peer after him in confusion. The boy glanced over to the edge of the plateau to find the two remaining Trolls from the Druid Guard in heated conversation with Seersha. They were still keeping watch where she had left them, making sure no fresh attack caught the little group unprepared, but they seemed decidedly unhappy about something. Railing found himself wishing that Khyber and those with her, especially Redden, would return from wherever they had gone so the brothers could be together again. He was being selfish, but he didn’t care. He hated having been left behind. Farshaun had explained why the Ard Rhys had insisted Redden must go with her, but that didn’t make Railing feel any better.

There was a clear sense of urgency now, even though Seersha had told Skint otherwise. She moved away from the Trolls toward the Speakman, who huddled with his legs drawn up to his chest in a clear attempt to make himself less noticeable. She knelt next to him, and while Railing couldn’t hear what she was saying, he could tell that her words were having a calming effect. The long, scarecrow body gradually dropped its defensive posture, and the Speakman eventually got to his feet and went to join the Trolls.

Farshaun reappeared from the trees bearing a heavy staff cut from a tree limb. He had fashioned one end to form a cradle, its wooden surface wrapped in cloth.

“Take this,” the Rover said, handing it to Railing. “You can use it as a crutch to help you walk. In a pinch, it will make a good weapon. In my opinion, a cudgel is worth a dozen swords.”

Railing took the cudgel, glanced over to see if Seersha was looking, saw she had disappeared into the trees, and held out his hand to Farshaun. Using the Rover’s firm grip and the solidity of the staff, he raised himself to a standing position. His leg pulsed with sudden pain and he grimaced in response, but kept his feet. He wished he had taken the time when he had it to learn how to use the wishsong to heal injuries of this sort.

“Chew on this,” Farshaun said, handing him some leaves he had extracted from a pouch.

“Deadens the pain?” Railing asked.

The old man shrugged. “Something like it.”

He turned away, moving over to join the Speakman. The two stood at the edge of the precipice with the Trolls, all four of them peering down into the woods below, watching the lengthening shadows cast by the cliffs. Railing stayed where he was, conserving his strength for the trek to the cliff and the likely climb that waited. He was thinking how badly things had gone on this expedition, and how little success its members had found. A handful of them were already dead or injured, and for all he knew the group that had gone with the Ard Rhys might have suffered losses, as well. But he didn’t want to think that Redden was at risk, so he brushed the matter aside.

Seersha returned, scanning the group swiftly before coming over to Railing.

“I see you took my advice about staying off your feet,” she deadpanned.

Railing shrugged. “I don’t like feeling helpless. I don’t want anyone to have to worry about me.”

“Well, it’s your choice. Just don’t hold us up by being too proud to ask for help. You stumble, you call out. Understand?”

“Don’t worry, I can do this.”

“You’ll get your chance to prove it.” She began rummaging through her pockets. “Shades and shadows, where did I put it? Ah, here it is.”

She pulled out a thin metal coin stamped with the image of Paranor and held it up so he could see. “We’re not waiting any longer on the Ard Rhys. We’re getting you and the seer and your Rover friend out of here. One of these was given to me; Mirai Leah has the other. Once I break it, Mirai’s will shatter as well and she’ll know to come to us.” She studied the coin. “I don’t know how long Khyber expected me to hold off, but I’m out of patience.”

Without waiting for his reply, she snapped the coin in two and shoved the pieces in her pocket. “The coin will lead Mirai here. Now we have to hope that she comes soon.”

It happened too quickly for Railing to object, which he might otherwise have done. He didn’t want Mirai to come into the Fangs, even if it was to save him. Or maybe especially if it was to save him. It was bad enough that she had come on this expedition in the first place. But he had taken some comfort in the fact that the Ard Rhys had chosen to leave her behind with the Walker Boh, where she would be comparatively safe.

Now, thanks to him, even that small reassurance was gone.

“Seersha!”

Skint reappeared from the woods, trotting toward her. “I’ve found what we need, but it’s not easily reached. We should go there now, at once, while it’s still light enough to see the trail clearly.”

She nodded her agreement and walked over to the precipice, motioning for the Trolls to remain where they were. Then she rejoined the others.

“Show us,” she said to Skint.

The Gnome took them back into the trees, winding through heavy grasses and scrub for several hundred yards and then farther on through a series of rocky outcroppings and ravines. It was a slow, difficult slog, and it took everything Railing had—even with help from Farshaun now and again—to make the journey. By the time they reached the base of the cliffs, the boy was sweating heavily and his leg was aching badly enough that he had to sit down.

“Where do we go from here?” Seersha asked.

Skint pointed upward. “A short distance away, there’s a series of cuts in the rock where you can find footholds to climb. About a hundred feet up, there’s a wide ledge and an overhang farther back that offers shelter. The ledge can’t be reached any other way than by climbing unless you can fly. There’s no way in from the sides or down from the top. At least, none that I could see. I think we can hold off just about any attack from up there.”

“All right. Well done.” She glanced at Railing and his companions. “Take these three up with you. If the boy can’t make the climb with his leg, use a rope to haul him. I’ll go back for the Trolls. We’ll wait until twilight and then we’ll slip away to join you. With luck, those little monsters hiding out below won’t know we’re gone until it’s too late to stop us.” She held up a warning finger. “Wait. How far is it from here to where the Ard Rhys went through the cleft in the cliff wall?”

The Gnome glanced ahead. “It’s close to where we’ll be. You want me to have a look?”

“As soon as these three are safely up, see if you can find sign of the others. Any sign. But don’t get caught down here after dark.”

She gave them all a sharp glance and hurried away.

Skint spent the better part of the next hour getting first the Speakman and Farshaun and then Railing Ohmsford up the cliff face to the ledge he had discovered. Railing required the most help. He could not put any significant weight on his injured leg and had to make the climb by planting the foot of his good leg in one foothold and then pulling himself upward by using his hands and arms to the next. It was slow going, and his strength was quickly depleted. Skint, who was much stronger than he looked and patient with his efforts, pushed from below and kept Railing steady on the rock face. He made the boy pause often to rest and insisted he drink water when he did. Several times Railing began to slip or sway out from the wall, and each time Skint was there to help him.