The four elves drank their share and came to make their farewells to Linsha and Sir Hugh.

“We must part ways here, Lady Knight,” the oldest said. “We shall go find our families.”

“Although your undertaking is so intriguing, it is hard to leave,” quipped a younger one.

The eldest elf nodded, his fair hair wet against his head. “Do you know yet where you will take the eggs?”

“Away from the Tarmaks,” she said.

“If I may make a suggestion, there is an old volcano called Flashfire to the west. It is only about two days’ ride from the source of the river. Perhaps the dragon could make a nest there that would be defensible and dry? Those eggs need to be settled as soon as possible.”

Linsha bowed low in gratitude. It sounded like an excellent suggestion.

The elves said good-bye to their fellow prisoners, bowed to Crucible, and trotted their horses onto the eastern path where the sun would soon rise. The heavy mist quickly swallowed them.

“Did you hear that?” she said to Crucible.

The dragon rumbled an assent. “I don’t know the volcano, but I will look for it. It might suit the eggs well. Will you come?”

Looking at the men around her, at Callista and Sir Hugh, Linsha felt torn. She desperately wanted to stay with the eggs, but she had been responsible for freeing these men and centaurs. She had promised them she would help them escape if they came to help her get the eggs. She did not feel it would be right to leave them now, with days of travel still ahead and the Tarmaks in pursuit. She would at least see them to the safety of the rebel army. “I have to stay with them,” she said, hoping Crucible would understand.

Her decision did not please him, but he did understand. She was a Knight of the Rose. She could not do otherwise. “I will be back,” he said. Rising on his wings, he lifted the net of eggs and flew west toward the headwaters of the Toranth River and a suggestion of a volcano.

The rest of the company shared a quick meal and did what they could for the four wounded men in the wagon. One had died of his wounds during the flight from the city, so they piled rocks in a cairn over his body and left him behind. At dawn they hurried across the open grasslands while the sun lightened the sky to the east.

The Best Laid Plans

21

Varia found them the afternoon of the second day of their journey. She came wheeling from the sky with a hoot of welcome and swooped in to land on Linsha’s outstretched wrist. Hopping off, she perched on Linsha’s knee and blinked up at the Lady Knight with wide, dark eyes.

A few of the men stared in astonishment at the raptor on the woman’s lap, but most of them were familiar with Linsha and her talented “pet” and continued to ride without comment.

“I have seen Falaius,” Varia said softly, so only Hugh and Linsha could hear her over the rattle and creak of the wagon. “He was so pleased to see me, he gave me a whole rat. He wants to know what you are planning.”

“Where are they?” Linsha asked, scratching the back of the owl’s neck.

Varia clicked her beak with pleasure and bent her head so Linsha could reach every part of her neck. “Coming south down the eastern Toranth River. They’re planning to ford the river in the next day or two, as soon as the water becomes shallow enough for the baggage wagons, and then strike eastward. They want to lure the Tarmaks out of the city. But how do you get those Brutes to come to a place of your choosing?”

“Tell them where the eggs are,” Sir Hugh said.

A glint of deviltry gleamed in Linsha’s eyes. “That would do it.”

“Where are the eggs?” the owl asked. “And where is Crucible?”

Linsha pursed her lips as she thought about Varia’s news, the eggs, and the probability of Lanther’s fury. She twisted around and studied the faint tracks unwinding behind their wagon as they moved over the wet ground. It had rained in fits and starts for two days, making the earth soft beneath the hooves of the horses. They had tried to hide their tracks and finally decided it was a waste of time. The ground was just too barren and too muddy. The only thing that would help would be cold weather to freeze the ground, but the late autumn had been surprisingly mild so far. The centaurs, natives to the plains, told her when the warm weather ended, it would probably end with a snowstorm.

“What are you looking at?” Varia hooted, peering around Linsha’s cloak.

“A way to lure Lanther to the eggs,” she replied. “Are you too tired to fly again?”

“I just need a short rest,” the owl replied, fluffing her feathers.

“Good. There here’s what I want you to tell Falaius.” She explained carefully, while Sir Hugh and Varia listened, and when she was finished both man and owl approved.

While Varia fluttered down into the bed of the wagon to sit with Callista out of the wind and take her nap, Linsha turned the reins over to Hugh and hopped out of the wagon. She jogged over to a centaur she knew only as Menneferen. He was a grayish roan stallion of middle years, with reddish hair, deep brown eyes, and the long, powerful legs of a runner. He had seemed very steady to her, and he looked to be in the best condition of the escaped slaves. He glanced down at her jogging beside him and slowed to a walk so she could keep pace with him.

“Would you be willing to take a message to Crucible?” she asked.

“Of course, Lady,” he said in a deep, smooth voice. “Where has he gone?”

She told him of the elves’ mention of a volcano somewhere near the source of the river. His grave expression never altered.

“My clan is from the north, but I think I have heard of such a place.”

“If you can find it, tell Crucible to go seek Falaius, and tell him we are going to turn northwest.”

“Are you going to lure the Tarmaks away from the new nest?” Menneferen asked.

“Yes-and into a battle, I hope.” Linsha said, “so take an indirect route.”

“Then I will go.” He bent low and winked at her. “But don’t have the battle without me.” He said his farewells to his companions and galloped away.

The other riders and centaurs, about fifteen in all, gathered around Linsha to learn what was happening. She told them her plan.

“Make no effort to hide your tracks,” she said. “We want Lanther to follow us.”

“And what if he catches us?” one man said.

She lifted her hand to her sword hilt. “Then we’d better make sure we are close to the rebel army.”

“How do we know the Tarmaks will leave the city and come after us?” asked another.

Linsha’s mouth tightened into a thin line and her expression turned bleak. “I know the Akkad-Dar. He’s probably already left.”

“Perhaps, Lady,” said a light bay centaur with a sword cut on his flank, “it would be wise to leave a scout behind who could watch the rear and warn you if the Tarmaks are coming.”

“That’s an excellent idea,” she said, glad he had mentioned it. “Do you feel well enough to volunteer?” She hated losing another good archer, but the centaurs were the best choice for scouts.

“Of course.” He stamped a hoof, ready to go.

Pleased, Linsha returned to the wagon and climbed back onto the driver’s bench beside Hugh. The party moved on, and a short while later the bay centaur fell back into a cluster of treeless hills and vanished into the eroded valleys between. The wagon and its escort began a gradual drift to the north. By evening they were traveling northwest toward the river but away from the eggs. If all went well, the Tarmaks would follow them to a place that Wanderer and Falaius chose, a place where a battle could be fought and won.

A second wounded man died that night in spite of Callista and Linsha’s best efforts. His wounds had not been bad, but the constant travel in a rough wagon and the cool, wet weather had taken too much from him. They concealed his body in the deep crevice of a large rock outcropping and piled more stones on top. Instead of lightening the load of the wagon, they added rocks to the wagon bed to maintain the weight and the illusion of a load. They pressed hard the next day, knowing there were still many miles to go. Neither Varia nor the centaur scouts returned, and all Linsha could do was worry.