Dezra's Quest

12

"Big guy. Hey." Borlos's voice.

Caramon brought his hands to his face, pressed their heels against his eyes. "G'way," he moaned. "Lemme sleep."

"I don't think so." The bard shook Caramon's shoulder. "You'd better get up.”

Muttering a curse, Caramon sat up and cracked his eyes open. He had a moment, as daylight blinded him, to notice how badly he ached. How long had it been since he'd slept on the ground?

It was a little past dawn, the sky dotted with golden clouds. Darken Wood loomed to his left; to his right, Uwen was stamping out the fire's ashes. Past him were their horses, tethered and contentedly cropping grass. Caramon twisted, joints cracking, and looked around. A moment later he stiffened, hissing through his teeth.

"Where's Trephas?" he asked. "And Dezra? Bor, where's my daughter?"

"Well," Borlos began, spreading his hands as Caramon staggered to his feet. "It's like this, big guy-they're gone."

"You had last watch, you damned fool!" Caramon snapped. "What happened?"

The bard flushed. "I'm sorry. I, uh, guess I dozed off."

Caramon swore again, balling his hands into fists.

Borlos stepped back warily. "Easy, big guy. Breaking my teeth won't help anyone. Here." He offered Caramon a creased scrap of parchment. "She left this."

Caramon snatched the parchment from his hand and unfolded it. It was a notice proclaiming the Spring Dawning feast, back at Solace.

"What-" he began.

"Turn it over."

He did. On the back of the parchment were hastily scribed words, scratched out with a bit of charcoal.

Father,

They read.

We made a bargain yesterday. I kept my side-you know what's happening in Darken Wood now, and why the centaurs want my help. Now you're going to keep yours.

Go home. Take Bor and Uwen with you. None of you are up to this. I neither need nor want your help.

Say good-bye to Laura for me.

– D.

"Goblin spit," Caramon snarled. He clenched his fist, crumpling the message.

Uwen walked over. He wore his armor and axe, and his blue eyes were ablaze with purpose. "We're going after her, right?" he asked.

"Whoa," Borlos said, raising his hands. His armor was still by his bedroll, with his packs. "Hold on, lad. Dez has a point-that isn't just any forest." He jerked his thumb at Darken Wood. "Do you really feel like heading straight into a war, with deformed centaurs and daemon trees and all that? Because I don't."

Uwen's face was stony. "I'm going after her."

"And what if you do?" Borlos argued. "How will you find her in there? There aren't any roads to follow, and I don't know a whit about tracking." He turned to Caramon. "What about you, big guy? Think you can follow her trail?"

Caramon shook his head. In the old days, tracking had been up to the likes of Tanis and Riverwind.

Borlos threw up his hands. "So. How do you propose to-"

"I can track her," Uwen said.

"-find her in the middle of-huh?" Borlos asked. "You can?"

Uwen nodded. "My father keeps sheep at our farm. We had trouble with wolves a couple years ago. Papa taught me wood-lore, so we could hunt them down."

"Oh. Well, then," Borlos grumbled. "That makes everything better."

"I'm going," Uwen vowed. "You go back to Solace if you want."

Borlos glanced at the heavens, beseeching, then looked to Caramon. "Would you talk some sense into him?"

Caramon scowled at Uwen, who looked back with earnest defiance, then he snorted and strode toward his horse.

"See?" Borlos asked. "The big guy has sense enough not to go traipsing off into-hey." He stopped, staring, as Caramon started unbuckling his horse's bridle. "What are you doing?"

"What do you think?" Caramon replied. The horse tossed its head as the bridle came off. "I'm setting her free. I can't use her where I'm going."

Grinning, Uwen jogged to his own gelding and began to undo its harness. "You can always take them back with you, if you're worried about them," he told the bard.

Borlos hesitated, then shook his head. "No way. I'm coming too."

Caramon shot the bard an amused glance.

"What can I say?" Borlos replied, shrugging as he walked toward his mare. "I'd rather run across that daemon tree than face Tika if I come back without you or Dez."

They unharnessed the horses, then untied their tethers. As they raised their hands to slap the animals' rumps, however, the horses wheeled and cantered back up the hill, toward the road. Taken aback, Caramon, Uwen and Borlos watched as they climbed the steep slope, then turned north and galloped out of sight.

"Wow," Borlos remarked as the pounding of their hooves faded in the distance. "If I didn't know better, I'd say they knew where they were going."

Caramon considered. He had an inkling they were going back home, and another thought that Trephas had told them to do so. He wondered what Tika would think if they returned, riderless, to the Inn.

He sighed, thrusting the thought aside, and went to gather his gear. "Come on," he said. "They've got enough of a head start as it is."

There were few virgin forests left in Ansalon. Even the homelands of the elves and kender, though idyllic, peaceful places, had been quietly shaped by their sylvan inhabitants. Although dwarves and humans wouldn't recognize them as such, they were civilized.

Darken Wood, however, remained a wild place, utterly untamed. Its black oaks grew close together, their branches mingling to weave a blanket of twig and leaf that stretched overhead for miles. Shadows cloaked the forest floor. Apart from occasional spears of brilliant, golden sunshine, the only light was a dim, green glow. It made everything look as though it lay at the bottom of the sea. Despite the gloom, though, the forest floor wasn't barren. Ferns, saplings and shrubs grew between the oaks' mossy trunks. Fat bees drifted drowsily among white and blue flowers.

There were animals, too. Dozens of different kinds of birds flitted among the boughs, bright-feathered males twittering and swooping to draw the attention of their drab mates. Red squirrels darted up and down the oaks' trunks. Holes beneath the trees marked the burrows of badgers and spiny trevils, who tended to come out at night. Deer moved among the shadows, white tails held high; here and there, bloody gouges scored a tree where a young stag had rubbed the velvety skin off his new-grown antlers.

It wasn't badgers or deer Dezra was thinking about, though; it was the large, brown bear in front of her.

Dezra had seen bears before. They were common in Solace Vale, though those were small and black. She'd never been this close, though-near enough to smell salmon on the great animal's breath. It was, she decided, an experience she could have done without.

She and Trephas had been walking quietly, several leagues from the forest's edge. She'd looked behind them for a moment, and when she turned around, the bear had been there, ambling out of the shadows to sit down before them. That had been several minutes ago; neither Dezra nor the bear had moved since.

Trephas looked at her, nonplussed. "What's the trouble? Why hast thou stopped?"

"You're kidding, right?" Dezra asked through tight lips.

Trephas followed her gaze to the bear, then laughed. "Ah," he said. For such a small sound, it was remarkably condescending. "Of course. I forgot thy kind fear our forest-biethren. Rest easy; the beast means no harm, so long as thou dost not harm him."

"Oh," Dezra said. "That's nice."

The bear yawned, revealing a mouthful of fangs. Trephas was within its reach. If it decided to give him a swat, he'd be lying on the ground in tatters. He turned his back on it, glancing at her. "Come on. We can't wait here all day."

"Crap," Dezra muttered, swallowing. Nervously, she edged forward, making a wide circuit around the bear. In time, she made her way past the animal. She glanced back, and saw it staring at her over its shoulder, its tongue lolling from its mouth.

"See?" Trephas asked. His booming voice made her jump. "He's never met thy kind before-only mine, and the other woodfolk. He doesn't fear us."

"Lovely," Dezra said. "And what if that wasn't just a friendly old bear? What if it had… Crossed? Like the Skorenoi?"

"I would have known," Trephas said magnanimously. "Never fear."

Dezra glanced up at the leaves, her face sour. Above their heads, a pair of jays flapped from branch to branch, squalling. She and Trephas walked on. She didn't ride. Neither of them had enjoyed it very much yesterday, and they were no longer in so great a hurry. He'd assured her, before they set out, that their path would be free of danger. They would walk to the Darkwater River, then follow it downstream and arrive in Ithax two days hence.

Around midday-it was hard to keep track of time, with the sun hidden behind the shifting leaves-she heard a new sound ahead: the babble of a flowing stream. She glanced at Trephas.

"The Darkwater," he said, nodding. "We can stop there and rest, if it pleases thee."

"I don't have to rest," Dezra said pointedly. The idea was appealing, but Trephas's attitude-that if they stopped, it would be to humor her-irritated her. "I can keep up."

He glanced at her, his brow furrowed, and shrugged. "Even so, we should tarry to eat. Our waterskins could use filling, also."

"Suit yourself."

The black oaks yielded to golden willows. The Darkwater snaked among them, shrouded by their drooping branches. Their shadows made it live up to its name, though a cataract foamed white, a ways upstream. Green and blue dragonflies danced above its surface, and fish darted beneath. Dezra knelt at its edge to fill her waterskin, then sat down in the grass and ate the food she'd stolen from the fair. Between mouthfuls, she snuck sips of dwarf spirits from her flask.

She smiled as the liquor warmed her, then glanced toward Trephas. The centaur knelt several yards downstream. As she watched, he plucked a fistful of grass from the ground and tucked it in his mouth. She let out a quick laugh, then looked away, covering her grin with her hand. Sure, he was half horse, but she'd never thought he'd graze like one.

He ate other things, too-some soft cheese from his pouch, plus a few velvety leaves off a bush that grew beside one of the willows. There was another shrub like it near Dezra, and while Trephas wasn't looking she plucked a leaf and put it in her mouth. She spat it out again immediately, grimacing, and downed a swig of dwarf spirits to kill the astringent taste.

Suddenly, Trephas rose to his feet and stared back into the woods, the way they had come. His nostrils flaring, he drew out his bow and strung it.

Dezra twisted to her feet, her hand straying to her sword. "What?" she whispered. "I thought you said there wasn't any danger here."

"There shouldn't be," he answered curtly. "I thought I heard-" He trailed off, then held up a hand. "Wait here. I'm going to have a look."

He crept away, moving among the trees with astonishing stealth. Dezra soon lost sight of him in the shadows. She didn't think to follow. The centaur was too quick. Instead, she hunched beneath a willow, eased her sword out of its scabbard, and waited.

A twig snapped, off to her right. It couldn't have been more than thirty paces upstream. For a moment she glimpsed movement amid the trees, but the shadows were too thick to see more. She looked for Trephas, cursing under her breath, but the centaur was nowhere in sight.

There was a drop down from the grassy riverbank to the stream. She eased herself down, sword in hand, onto the Darkwater's edge. It was slippery with wet clay, but she managed to keep her footing. Hunkering low, she crept silently toward the noise. Carefully, she peered up over the bank, into the brush. There was something there, all right, although she couldn't make it out. It didn't seem to notice her.

She didn't think twice. She vaulted up onto the riverbank, brought her sword around, and slammed its pommel into the shadow's side. It fell with a grunt, and she went down on top of it, her sword's blade pressed against its throat. Breathing hard, heart thundering, she flipped her hair out of her eyes and glared… into Uwen Gondil's simple face.

"Easy, Dez," said a voice, deeper in the shadows. She looked and saw Borlos standing beneath a willow tree. Behind him was a larger shadow, wearing a dragon-winged helm.

She bowed her head, then lifted her blade from Uwen's throat. "Damn it," she snarled as she rose.

"We made a bargain," Dezra snapped. She stood on the riverbank, hands on her hips, glaring at her father. Caramon looked back defiantly, while Borlos and Uwen stood off to the side. Trephas still hadn't returned. "You were supposed to go home," she snapped. "That was the deal."

"Then I'm breaking it," Caramon replied. "And what was sneaking off before dawn supposed to accomplish?"

She rolled her eyes. "I snuck away because I knew you'd want to come along. I wasn't about to spend the morning arguing with you-and I'm not now, either. Get out of here." She waved at Borlos and Uwen. "Take them with you, before one of you gets killed."

"I'm not going anywhere."

Dezra threw up her hands. "Look-"

Caramon shook his head firmly. "Dez, listen. Despite what you think, this isn't all about you. I'm not going to Ithax for your sake. I'm here for the Forestmaster. She helped me and my friends find the gods, years ago. You may not give a damn about that, but I do. I owe her my help."

She eyed him askance. "What about Bor and the kid? Did they want to accompany you on this little crusade, or did you decide to drag them along?"

"Now wait just a moment," Borlos interjected. "No one got dragged along. We came with him by choice."

"Then you're an even bigger fool than he is."

Uwen strode forward, his expression infuriatingly earnest. "I didn't come for the Forestmaster," he said. "I came here for you, Dezra. Let your father deal with the trouble here. You can come back to Solace with me."

"That does it!" Dezra snapped.

She stepped forward, grabbed the front of Uwen's tunic, and jerked him toward her. He grunted in surprise, stumbling, and she cocked her head back and kissed him fiercely on his lips. For a moment he struggled, his eyes wide, then he relented, his mouth opening against hers. When she pulled away, his face practically glowed with embarrassment.

"There!" she proclaimed, her eyes glinting above her mocking, lopsided smile. She shoved him back. "A kiss from the damsel fair. Isn't that what you wanted? I'd give you more, but my father's watching. Maybe tonight-"

"Dezra!" Caramon barked. "That's enough!"

"Leave him alone, Dez," Borlos added. He gestured at Uwen. "The lad's taken with you. So what?"

Dezra glared the bard into silence. "He's an idiot," she snarled. "Just like the rest of you. Did you really think-"

She stopped suddenly, her voice catching in her throat. Her gaze, which had been fixed on the mortified farmboy, slid past him to the shadowy woods. She'd seen something there-a gleam of metal. It was gone, but now there was a faint sound: the slow, soft creaking of sinew and wood. None of the others seemed to notice, but there was no mistaking it.

"Look out-" she began.

Too late. The arrow hissed through the air and struck Uwen in the back, punching through his armor. The surprise in his eyes grew even more pronounced. Then they emptied, and he fell against Dezra, blood on his lips. She lost her balance as he struck her, and they tumbled off the riverbank, into the Dark-water.