The Land of Asshur

Chapter: Five

The Land of Asshur

Do not fear the unexpectant. An altered plan often produces success.
Medgag: Thoughts from the Master

They slipped through the north passage of the Stone Mountains in the darkest of the night. Their concealment was aided by a heavy mist, which kept most of the residents of Stone City in the comfort of their homes and favorite nightly establishments. The dark grayness of their armor and cloaks gave the riders the appearance of shadows moving against an unseen light. Adding to the phantom images were their gray mounts. Twenty in number and silent in purpose, they were beyond the west side of Stone City before they broke into a gallop. Had anyone witnessed their entry into the Land of Nod they would also have seen them quickly swallowed up by the night. Though none did.

*******************

Simon knew it would take him two days minimum to reach the foothills of the Asshur Mountains. The first day went by without serious incident, though Simon had the nagging sensation that someone was watching him hike across the farmland.

The plains of the Land of Asshur appeared flat at first glance. A closer inspection by one who sought to hide in them revealed a rolling, hilly countryside spotted with shallow depressions.

At home in the mountains, Simon knew how to use the characteristics of the land to mask his presence. He doubled back on his trail twice trying to alleviate the feeling of being followed. While he could not find a trace of pursuers, he was unable to shake the feeling. The scribe was beginning to think that he had been so long in the comfort of the Sanctuary that his mountain skills were diminished because of it.

With the fall of darkness he carefully used a very small brief fire to warm the food for young Christophe and he buried the soiled diapers under rock and ground. He rationed his own food choosing to only eat enough to keep up his energy level. The infant prince was an excellent baby. He slept off and on, was quiet when awake and never seemed to cry. That night they slept in a nest of rocks, the baby cradled in Simon’s arms. Despite the discomfort he kept the pack on his shoulders and the bag in easy reach.

His sleep was restless and after five watches he was of the mind that he was not going to get much more in the way of sleep. He waited until Christophe stirred for his night feeding then he began preparations to get under way. Earlier he had warmed two servings of the milk and kept one of the servings between their bodies to maintain the warmth. Planning ahead allowed him to move quicker and eliminated the need to start a fire.

By the sixth watch of the night he was on the move. Progress was slowed by the darkness. He did not want to take any false steps that might result in an injury or give away his position. There were still about four watches of the night remaining.

One watch from first light he stopped for his first meal and to feed his charge. He kept his senses tuned for distant noises and felt sure that they were not being followed. That is until he heard the hoof beats.

Initially, the sounds were faint and he thought that they were coming from a road off in the distant night. When Simon determined that they were horses, he instinctively knew they were coming in his direction. He quieted his spirit and calmed his heartbeat and breathing. Now he could feel the movement of the horses on the ground and hear the hooves against stones and packed soil. The horsemen were not on a road, they were moving up the rolling fields toward his small camp.

Grabbing his bag and the child, he started jogging in a straight line away from the sound of the approaching riders. He was now moving parallel to the mountain range that was his goal. This route would take them into the Euphrates River at its widest part. From there he would be obligated to follow the river north or south to find a crossing point. Either direction would add another day or more onto his journey and increase significantly the possibility of being caught by the king’s men. However, he had little choice at this juncture. The quickest way to put distance between them and the riders was his new priority.

Simon moved into some small rolling hills leading into the foothills of the Asshur Mountains that were on the east side of the Euphrates River. He judged the terrain too hilly for most farmers to consider worthwhile farming. He hoped this course would minimize the chances of coming into contact with anyone else.

At first light, he was in the foothills and making good progress. He could still hear the faint sound of the horses behind him. They were about where he had camped the night. There could be little doubt that they were trying to overtake someone. He changed his direction to a more northerly one. The hills were a little rougher looking and he hoped it would make it more difficult for them if they were pursuing him. With first light he could now see the riders, some twenty or more in number. After working his way up a small crest, he turned to get a better look at them. A shiver shook him. They were dressed completely in gray clothing and armor and were mounted on gray horses. King Crom’s men they were not!

He descended the other side of the crest into a depression. Before he could start up the next incline he realized that he was not alone. Above him on a rise stood a man, hands on his hips looking down on him smiling.

“Good first light to you, my fine young man,” he said with the smile still in place. And why not smile, on both sides of him were lightly armored men with drawn swords. “How might we be of service?”

*******************

Mars drove his men all day without compassion. If a troll could force ride in the mid-day warmth with a hood on his head to mask his features, then these humans should have no problems keeping the pace.

He had led the riders over the Great Highway from Stone City almost to The City of Kings. Within sight of King’s Mountains he turned north off the Highway until they met up again with the Great Highway on its northward route to the Tri-Cities. They crossed over the Highway onto the plains of Asshur.

Just before last light Mars allowed his men to rest. Four watches into the night they mounted and continued across the farmlands of the plains of Asshur heading north. Their horses trampled fields and knocked down fences but, not surprisingly, none of the farmers made any effort to stop them or extract payment for the damages. It was at first light that one of the men called out the warning. Mars halted the unit.

Advancing a little ways ahead of his men, he scanned the horizon for a glimpse of what his man had seen. A head bobbed over a hill then disappeared. He called for a dismounted rest. Moving off from his men he scaled an incline for a better look. He saw the head again further away. There was no doubt in his mind that someone was trying to get away from him and his men. This was not surprising except that the general reaction of the farm people had been to hide in their homes, barns or wherever they could find cover until his riders passed. Now this one was running away. Most curious, he thought.

His orders were to make the best possible speed to Hammer’s Bridge where they were to intercept a scribe of the Order Medgag traveling alone with an infant. The child was not to be harmed at any costs. Zeus wanted the man too but Mars was not to risk the infant or his mission just to capture the man. And, he was especially warned, the scribe was not to escape alive. The warning angered him but he had suppressed the instinct to react, a very untroll-like response.

The troll flexed his muscular frame as he thought over the situation. Even among the dark beings, Mars possessed an enormous body, far more massive than any but Zeus, the reigning prince of the Dark Lands. Though many in the dark realm would dispute the assertion, Mars considered himself the second most powerful of the trolls. Except Mars had visions of greater grandeur. He wanted more power, power over all including Zeus. There was no interest on his part to maintain his status and he saw the current events developing in the lands of the humans as an opportunity. He would without a doubt fetch the little urchin who fled King’s Mountains with the son of the human king but turning them over to Zeus was another matter. His destiny was at hand and the troll intended to take it by the throat.

His hunter’s instinct told him that this running figure was his prey. His quandary was failure and the price he would pay if he did not locate the child. Should he continue on to the bridge or take off after this runner. His concern was that he had unwittingly and prematurely flushed his quarry. When this one reaches the river, will he take it to the north looking for a place to cross or head south? Mars knew that the sole northern crossing was Hammer’s Bridge. The river ran too rapidly to attempt a crossing anywhere else.

It would not take long to run this rabbit to ground. If this was not his quarry, then he could move on to the bridge. But if it was his man, then he will have saved himself the trouble of going all the way to the bridge and also not risk his prey going south on him.

The decision made, he returned to his men. “Captain,” he shouted, “mount your men. We are heading into the hills.”

********************

They had him completely surrounded. Simon glanced over his shoulder to see more men clothed in a variety of the garb of the nations of men coming around behind him. His brain was working furiously but he saw no possible escape from the trap he had walked into. Instinctively, he pulled the baby closer to his chest.

“As I said, my fine young traveler, how might we be of service?” repeated the apparent leader.

“Well,” said Simon slowly, “you could start by sheathing those swords.”

“Ah, well now, how do we know that you are not one of King Crom’s spies trying to catch us with our guards down?” he retorted.

“I guess you have me there,” smiled Simon. “I am using this infant as my cover so I can walk around drawing bandits into attacking me just to get them out of their hiding places. Then I will capture them and take them single handedly back to King’s Mountains for a handsome reward.”

Laughing, the man turned from side to side, “There you have it lads, we have been trapped. Seems we have no choice but to surrender.”

The joke brought laughter from the others.

He gave a signal to his men behind Simon. The scribe could hear some of them moving away. The leader jumped down from his lofty position to place himself face-to-face with Simon.

“Which brings up an interesting question,” he said looking into the young scribes eyes. “What are you doing out here all alone with a baby in your arms? Maybe you could answer that little curiosity for me.”

Now how do I satisfy his question without breaking my discipline of faith, wondered Simon?

He decided to take his best shot. “This child is under my protection. I have been charged to deliver him to the Order of Medgag on the Mount of Adoration.”

At the mention of the Order of Medgag and the Mount of Adoration the brown clad leader stepped back as if Simon had told him he was ravaged by an illness.

The leader was wary now, tilting his head to the side. “You don’t look like a Gifted, my young friend. Are you a Gifted?” A slight smile crossed his lips with the question.

“No, I am merely performing a service for the Order.”

“Hmm, sounds quite noble. What reward would one expect for such an honorable deed?”

“I am not doing this to gain riches. Wealth is no concern of mine in this matter. However, I am afraid the Order of Medgag does not deal with those acting contrary to the Way of God. So I see little in this for you.”

The leader of the bandits put his hand on his heart. “Oh, you wound me. Do I look like the kind of man who thinks of nothing but the gain of wealth?” With that his men broke into loud laughter.

“I am sorry if my words were harsh. I must tell you though that I do not have much of anything of worth to steal, a few bars of iron and a couple of daggers. You may search my luggage if you do not believe me.”

“I am Herro of the tribe of Gil, I do not rob from women and children. As far as I can see, you are nothing but a little lost boy,” responded Herro. His tone had changed to anger and Simon realized that he had insulted the man.

He tried to recover the situation. “Again, I am sorry for my words but you must admit this looks very much like a robbery,” he said pointing at the swords in the hands of Herro’s men.

Herro waved his hand and the men put away their weapons. “There, you see,” he said showing his empty hands palms up, “no robbery.”

Herro looked into the blanket at the face of the child and up into Simon’s. “What I am wondering about is why so fierce an evil, like these dark riders, would want with a lost boy and his little baby? Maybe you could enlighten me on that little point?”

Simon bit back the fear. He forced his face to show nothing but calm. Unfortunately, his voice betrayed his concern. “What do you mean?” his crackling voice asked.

“Well, youngster,” Herro continued his demeaning tone, “we have been watching some shadowy riders coming up behind you over the low land plains. They were taking the same route across country to Hammer’s Bridge as you until just a few moments ago. They appear to have switched direction and are now close behind you.”

Before Simon could respond, he was interrupted by a commotion behind him. He swiveled around to see what Herro was looking at. One of the men Herro had sent back to check on the riders made several jesters with his hands. Herro swung around to the men still on his former perch and motioned with his hand. They quickly disappeared.

“Come, young one. We must become one with the hills or you will be having a most unpleasant confrontation with those riders of whom I spoke,” he said pulling on Simon’s sleeve.

**********************

Mars and his riders reached the small rolling hills where he had last seen the man drop below the horizon. He rode up on a small incline that gave him an unobstructed view of the surrounding hills. The running figure had completely vanished. He reined his horse around in a circle and removed the hood from his head, scanning for any signs of movement. He saw nothing, no one. The troll slapped his saddle and muttered a curse under his breath.

Somehow that little creature had managed to either conceal himself or he had grown wings and flew away. Hatred for the human burned in his inner being. If this was his prey, the man would not survive their first encounter, he swore. He pulled the hood back over his head. He waited on the top of the crest for half a watch, his eyes looking for any movement.

Finally, he conceded that he had lost this one. The mountains of Asshur on this side of the Euphrates River were too rough for horsemen. It would be difficult to continue west and still reach Rivers Run by last light. As such, he had no choice but to continue on to Hammer’s Bridge. He rode back to his men and without comment, he spurred his mount north back in the direction of the river crossing at the bridge.

******************

From his hiding place, Simon heard the horses ride off into the distance. He waited with Christophe held closely to his chest praying that the infant would not cry. The bandits were whispering to each other but Simon would have to move his head to hear them and he did not want to chance disturbing Christophe. So intent was he to listen for any clue as to what the horsemen might do that nearly jumped out of his skin when Herro tapped him on the shoulder from behind.

“The coast is clear, my friend,” he said in a low voice. “It would be prudent for us to put some distance between your pursuers and this place. Just in case they double back to look for you.”

Simon stood up and looked around. Everywhere there were men appearing from seemingly nowhere heading off to the west in the direction of the Mountains of Asshur. He determined that he was safer in the company of these men for now. So, he followed after them.

The band climbed into the mountains. Simon was sure these men were no strangers to the hills. They picked their way from one-foot trail to another, always traveling west. As a son of the mountains, he admired their ability to find the shortest but easiest paths up through the mountains. At the high sun, they stopped to eat mid-day meal.

Simon took care of Christophe’s needs before he allowed himself a few bites from his provisions. He was concerned about the quantity of his supplies now that he had added at least a full day onto his journey to Rivers Run. And there was no telling how long it would take him to get across Hammer’s Bridge. He would have to wait until it was safe to cross. He was convinced that the riders were looking for him and somehow they knew he was going to cross over the Euphrates at the bridge. How this was possible since only he and Master Keron knew his plan?

Deep in thought and with Christophe asleep, he did not notice Herro sit down beside him until the man spoke. “You have the air of a man with a large burden on your shoulders.”

“To say the least,” he responded. “Those dark riders have complicated my mission.”

“They are probably heading straight for Hammer’s Bridge to wait on you to try to cross.”

Simon shot Herro a quick glance, and then regretted the reaction. “You seem to know my business as well as I do myself.”

“That is not as difficult as you may imagine. What I do not think you are aware of is that the leader of those chasing you is a troll,” said Herro.

“Oh my,” breathed Simon. “Oh my,” he said again. He was at a loss for words.

“’Oh my’ indeed,” echoed Herro. “It is the occasion to be frank, young one. I am guessing that you are on the run from King Crom and these dark riders are not necessarily an unexpected development.” Simon tried to interrupt but Herro held up a hand cutting him off and continued, “You were attempting to cross the river at Hammer’s Bridge but the Dark Ones are going to beat you to the bridge and make that plan almost impossible. You could follow the river south and cross at Crom’s Point but, no doubt, the king will already have his warriors guarding that bridge on the alert for you.”

“I could wait out the dark riders at Hammer’s Bridge. If I stay…”

Herro interrupted his thought, “The mountains around the bridge are very dangerous. Bandits and thieves roam them freely. The only safe place to be at night is Rivers Run. King Cleaus does well keeping the streets safe but he can do little outside of the walls of his city.”

He is leading me somewhere, Simon thought. “What would you suggest I do?” he asked.

“There is a way for you to cross the river. It is reasonably safe and it will cut days off your travel to the Mount of Adoration,” said the brown clad man.

“Why?” asked Simon.

“Because, for one thing it is the more direct…” Herro started to say but it was Simon’s turn to interrupt shaking his head from side-to-side.

“No. Why are you offering to help me? What is your price?” he asked looking the other man straight in the eyes.

“We have heard there is panic coming down from King’s Mountains. I know who the child is. Or what he might one day be. The tale of the star has made it to the plains of Asshur.” Herro stood and placed himself in front of Simon and Christophe. He drew his sword and knelt on one knee, driving the point of the sword into the ground. “As you are my witness, I pledge myself to the service of this king.”

The man’s face was full of sincerity. Simon could think of a thousand reasons not to trust him. But something inside of him told him differently. He reached out and touched the blade of the sword. “On behalf of my charge, I accept your service.”

Herro’s band along with Simon and Christophe kept traveling across the mountains beyond last light. At the end of the first watch of the night Herro called a halt. “We will camp here for the night,” he announced.

As had become his habit, Simon saw first to feeding and changing the infant. He played and talked to the child for a long while until Christophe finally fell asleep. It was only then that he took his last meal. He ate sparingly. He was still not sure how much faith he could put in Herro’s word or his ability to cross the river. So, he was determined to stretch his supplies for as long as he could.

The Euphrates River was the widest, deepest and fastest moving of the four rivers in the Land of Nod. The river starts its southward voyage through the land from its Blue Sea inlet by the Tri-Cities. It takes over the waters of the Tigris River just before Hammer’s Bridge increasing also in the rapidity of the currents as it travels down the valleys of the Mountains of Asshur. Just before entering the Forests of Eden it collects the combined waters from the Gihon River and Pishon River at Seth Fork. The river widens even further as it passes through the forests but slows its pace. The Euphrates leaves the forest for the desert where it disappears into the vast wasteland beyond the known territory.

From their campsite Simon could hear the rushing waters of the river but could not see them in the darkness. Of one thing he was sure, they were far above the river. Herro and his men left Simon and Christophe alone. He could hear the men off in the darkness laughing quietly at each other’s jokes. Herro had ordered that no fires be built tonight and a quarter of the men would stand each watch. Simon felt semi-secure for the first occasion since leaving the City of King’s. He drifted off to sleep listening to the sounds of the river below him and reciting the works of Medgag.

It was still dark when Christophe’s stirrings woke him. He lay still for a moment listening to his surroundings. He could hear the river and the movements of some of Herro’s men. They appeared to be breaking camp and eating first meal. Confident that all was well, he changed the baby, made a small-concealed fire to warm the formula and fed Christophe. The child lay in his blanket chatting to himself while Simon took care of his own personal needs and ate his own first meal.

Herro approached him as he was finishing the last bites. The brown clad leader tossed him some dried meat. “Eat hardy, lad. This day will be a long one and you will need your strength,” he said sitting down beside the scribe.

Simon gratefully accepted the extra food. His morning ration left his stomach asking for more. He chewed in silence for a while until Herro spoke.

“I will go with you today.” It was a statement and not a question. “Two of my men, Hartgore and Neemus have asked to accompany us. They are good men. I highly recommend them to your service.”

“Why do they want to come with me?” asked Simon with an emphasis on the “me.”

Herro ignored the emphasized pronoun saying, “They want to serve the prince as do I and as you are so faithfully doing.”

When Simon did not reply he added, “It will be a long three or four day’s travel from the other side of the river to the Mount of Adoration. There are still dangers along the way. You could use the help and the prince could use the protection.”

“Then I see great value in their service,” Simon said conceding the point.

By first light the small company was on their way. They descended the hill where they had camped for about a watch when Herro proclaimed that they were at the crossing point. Simon looked around perplexed. There was no bridge of any kind and they were still too high up in the hills to use a boat. The waters of the river were twenty or thirty lengths below them. Cautiously leaning over the edge, the youthful scribe could see the agitated waters of the Euphrates rushing over the rocky bed of the river churning into frothy rapids.

“Herro, I do not see how you expect us to get to the other side without a bridge,” said Simon.

Herro smiled at him, “We do not need a bridge, my friend. We have Herro’s Cord.”

Simon followed Herro’s gaze. A large rope was stretched across the river a few lengths from them. It was tied at parallel heights to giant trees on both sides of the river. The cord dipped slightly in the center. Suddenly, he had a very bad feeling about this day.

“It is simple, you push off and build speed going toward the middle so that the momentum will carry you up the other side. You will just slide across the river,” Herro said, confirming all of the scribe’s worse fears. “There is nothing to it.”

A huge man introduced to Simon as Hartgore was the first to travel the rope. He had a strap of leather with a pocket in the middle. In the pocket he placed a smooth flat stone coated liberally with animal fat. The stone pocket was balanced on the rope and he held the ends of the strap. The rope could be heard singing as Hartgore sailed down the one end of the rope and up the other over the river. He used his outstretched feet to absorb the impact and stop on the tree limb at the far side.

“You see, no problem,” laughed Herro. “However, it would be best if I took the young one with me. You will need all of your concentration.”

Simon wanted to protest. He did not like the idea of entrusting Christophe with anyone else. But as he watched Neemus follow his comrade over the rope, he was forced to admit that he had his doubt about whether or not he could live through this adventure let-alone protect the boy. Reluctantly he handed the baby to Herro. Two men had his strap ready. In his case it was decided to tie the straps to his wrists for extra security.

The scribe was about to ask Herro if there was not perhaps another way to ford the river when he received a gentle push by the two men. The next few moments were shear fright and all that he saw was the tree rushing at him. He could also hear someone screaming at the top of his lungs and realized that it was he. Then the tree was almost on him. Two sets of strong arms reached out and grabbed him before he smacked into the trunk. They untied his wrists and lowered him to the ground.

Once on the ground, Simon’s knees failed him and he was forced to sit down on the grass before he fell. He could see Herro in the distance coming over the rope with a bundle over his shoulders. The bandit leader smoothly slowed and stopped himself with his feet.

“So you see,” he said landing at the side of the white flush-faced scribe, “nothing to it. Nothing to it at all.”

******************

Hidden on a mountaintop above the river with a view of Herro’s Cord Karr watched the four men cross the river. He could not help but smile at the screams of the young scribe as he careened over the line. It was strange, he thought, that these obvious thieves with a chance to capture and hold for ransom a prince of King’s Mountains would have opted for helping the scribe escape safely with the child. They could have received any price in trade for the baby either from King Crom, at Rivers Run or the Dark Ones that had nearly captured him the previous day. Why had they helped the scribe?

In the early morning the day after Simon had fled The City of Kings, Karr had picked up the scribe’s trail where he had left the Great Highway and had followed at a discrete distance.

On the second day he, too, had heard the Dark Ones riding across the plains. There was another curiosity. How had the dark riders back there on the plains of Asshur known where to find the scribe and his charge? The troll leading them had to have come from the east. Karr was confident that only he and the old man had knowledge of the scribe’s escape route. There was no way the old man could have gotten word by way of a rider to Stone City or beyond quick enough to have allowed the troll and his Dark Ones to covered that much territory that rapidly. At least no way humanly possible. There was a troubling thought.

Something about this child and this whole affair was pulling the Stoner to follow. This was not like him, he thought adjusting his shoulder pack and cautiously starting down the mountain toward Herro’s Cord. Where was his profit in all of this? It was not like him at all.

*******************

There were still several watches before last light when Mars and his riders reached Rivers Run. The city was known for its gigantic walls, the highest in all the Land of Nod. Huge stones and been quarried to make them thirty lengths high. A tower fifty lengths in height guarded each corner and two more pairs of towers protected the main gates on the north and south walls. The people of Rivers Run took pride in the knowledge that no army had ever taken the city by force and never would.

Mars immediately sent six of his men to the bridge to watch for the man and child. All of his remaining men, except his captain, were dispatched throughout the city to search for any traces of the two.

Hammer’s Bridge was built by Micah the Woodsman. The story says that Micah crossed the Euphrates River in search of a mate. He found her in the clan of Medan of the Seven Clans of King’s Mountains and took her to his home in the Asshur Mountains.

When his new bride fell into homesickness, Micah constructed a wooden bridge spanning the river so that his love could return home to her clan whenever she wanted. Over the seasons to follow the bridge was expanded to accommodate horses and wagons. The people of the small village of Rivers Run called him Micah the Hammer. Eventually the bridge took on the name Hammer’s Bridge after its maker.

The tribe of Micah grew and prospered on their side of the river. They traded lumber and stone to the people of Rivers Run to build their city in exchange for the goods and services of Rivers Run. So long as the people of Rivers Run stayed on their side of the river, peace ruled. But trouble brewed when Rivers Runners tried to build homes on the north side of the river. Warriors from the tribe of Micah came down from their mountains to chase the intruders back to the south side of the bridge burning anything left behind by the fleeing people.

Rivers Run learned its lesson. Peaceful relations with the mountain men of the Asshur Mountains allowed the city to profit from its location on the Great Highway between the Tri-Cities and The City of Kings. It increased in size and power. The people of Rivers Run made themselves a king to rule over and protect them and their wealth. The king built walls around the city and raised an army to defend the city and the bridge. However, no matter how powerful they became, the people of Rivers Run kept to their side of the river.

Mars spent two days hidden away in the room at the lodge the human captain of his squad had rented, drinking wine and pacing. His men prowled the entire city attuned for any signs or clues to the whereabouts of the man and a male child. His instructions to spread the word of a reward for the capture of the couple in the seedier quarters of the city resulted in the death of six men who had the bad fortune of carrying infant boys in the streets. The deaths were of no concern to the troll. Willing, as he was, to cause a thousand, thousand deaths to accomplish his mission.

He hurled his mug of wine against the wall in disgust. He was sure that if his prey had entered the city, he would have been flushed out by now. If he had been foolish enough to try to wait him out in the mountains, he would surely be dead and the child a part of some bandit household.

No, somehow he had managed to evade Mars and his men. The troll would stay two more days in the city on the off chance that the scribe was still hiding in the city. Then he would return to the City of Pillars. But, he was convinced that he had failed in his mission and dreaded the thought of telling Zeus. He cursed the air.

*******************

Trekking through the mountains was not an easy task for Karr. He was a child of the streets of Stone City and accustomed to the ways of the city. Out here in the open he was uncomfortable and uneasy. To his good fortune the four men were not as focused on where they had been as much as they were on where they were going. By shear chance he had managed to stay far enough behind them that he was not detected. Twice the first day one of the men backtracked to check their trail for anyone who might be tracking them but by the middle of the second day they seemed unconcerned with what lay behind and he was able to follow more closely. What were the most difficult were the nights. When his quarry stopped for the night they were able to make a small fire to cook food and to take away the evening chill. He could not for fear of being spotted. This city boy from the plains of Stone Mountains was not accustomed to the cool mountain air. He rolled himself in his cape at night and froze.

His fourth day in the mountains brought relief. On a distant mountain peak he could see the outline of what he believed to be the Sanctuary of the Order of Medgag. He allowed the four men to put a half-day’s travel between them and he made camp under a rock overhang where he made a fire and cooked a warm meal. He knew their destination and the light snow covering on the mountains made tracking the small party fairly easy. Under the shelter of his stone roof he sat by his fire and allowed the warmth to penetrate his body. He really had no idea what he expected to do once he confirmed that the scribe had safely reached the Mount with the baby prince.

He lay by his campfire wrapped in his cloak and looking up at the stars until he fell asleep. What, indeed, was this child of the streets doing in the mountains?