Firebrand

By midday, they left the heavy eaves of the northern Green Cloak behind and entered a land of scrub and icy bogs and stunted, wind-sculpted trees. The wind howled sharp and hard with so little to break it. A hare, in its winter white coat, dashed across their trail. In the distance, Karigan espied a pair of coyotes loping across the bog. She kept as alert as she could, more interested in spotting people than wildlife, but as the wind hissed through the brush, none were to be seen.

Soon they picked their way up onto a ridge, its spine scoured of snow except in patches protected by boulders and squat bushes.

“There is the Lone Forest,” Enver said, pointing into the distance.

Down beneath the ridge lay an expanse of evergreen amid the bleak gray and brown of the rocky plain. Karigan wished she had a spyglass to get a closer look.

“Perhaps we should get off the ridge,” she said, feeling uneasy. “We could be visible for miles.”

“And maybe get out of this wind,” Estral muttered.

The bitter air irritated Karigan’s lungs, and she pulled the scarf her aunts had made over her mouth and nose.

They picked their way down the ridge into a fold of land through which an ice-rimed stream flowed. It blunted the wind, and they paused to rest the horses and eat. Karigan picked at a piece of dried meat and hardtack, still not interested in food, but determined to keep up her strength.

“Are we still following the Eletian ways?” she asked.

“Yes,” Enver replied, “but they veer off from the Lone Forest, north northwest, and then . . .”

“And then?”

“I am not certain.”

“Right,” Karigan murmured. “The way to the p’ehdrose is not found on maps.” She doubled over, seized by another fit of coughing.

“Perhaps,” Enver said, “we should consider spending the night here.”

Karigan stood. “We still have half a day left. Let’s use it.”

“You should have chocolate first,” Enver said.

This time she accepted a Dragon Dropping and tried to enjoy it. She was too tired to argue.

They rode through the afternoon, Karigan muffling the occasional coughing spell with her scarf. Condor’s ears swiveled, and he even glanced back at her, as if in concern. She patted his neck and assured him all was well, though it was not. The smoke had hurt her worse than she thought and she did not know what kind of scout she was going to be if the hacking kept up.

Finally they halted in a copse of spruce that helped block the wind. There was a depression in the rocky ledge like a small natural amphitheater that offered further shelter.

“I am going to place wards around our campsite,” Enver said, “since we are so close to the Lone Forest.”

As he went about doing just that, Karigan and Estral tended the horses. When they finished, Karigan dropped her gear and lowered herself to the ground beside it. Staying at the lodge would have been warmer, but she was just as glad to be away from the remains of the pyre. She pulled her hood over her head and huddled out of the wind.

“I think we should chance a fire,” Enver said.

Karigan opened her eyes to find him standing before her. Had she dropped off for a few minutes? Estral was struggling with their tent. Karigan knew she should help her, but she just couldn’t make herself move.

“No fire,” she said. Speaking tickled her airway and she coughed again.

“I need to brew you a tea,” he said. “I will limit the smoke. I would rather you did not inhale anymore, anyway.”

Me, too, she thought.

Enver was as good as his word, building a small, warming fire. The depression they sat in protected it so that the smoke did not blow into their faces. Karigan was glad of the tea and being able to inhale the herb steam that Enver prepared for her. He watched her from across the fire.

“Galadheon, did you intend to do this scouting of the Lone Forest tomorrow?”

She nodded.

“Hmm.”

“Hmm, what?”

“I believe you should wait a day to rest your lungs.”

Estral stiffened beside her.

“Maybe more steam would help,” Karigan said.

Estral moved to put the pot back over the fire.

“Perhaps, but I believe both of us would prefer that you did not aggravate your condition into lung sickness.”

No, she did not need to be sick. “I hate to delay, but if I coughed at an inopportune moment, I’d give myself away.”

“Perhaps Enver could go,” Estral said.

“No,” Karigan replied. “This is outside his responsibility.” He started to speak, but she cut him off. “My decision.”

“I could try,” Estral said, resolve shining in her eyes.

Karigan had a feeling this conversation was going to exhaust her more than the actual scouting. “I know you are worried about your father, but you haven’t been trained as I have been for this sort of thing.”

Estral did not argue, but glared at the fire.

Karigan sighed, not sure she was getting through to her friend. “Riders have died on scouting missions looking for Second Empire.” She shuddered, remembering how they’d returned the corpse of poor Osric M’Grew to the king as a “message.” “And you remember what Captain Treman said about losing his own people to Second Empire? The River Unit is one of the most highly trained units that serves the king.”

“I understand,” Estral said, her gaze downcast.

Karigan was not sure that she did. The reminder of those who had perished in pursuit of intelligence about Second Empire only served to cause Karigan to doubt the course she had chosen.