and they keep getting higher.”
Hobart shrugged. “More trade with the dwarves, probably. The road out of Wyrmwood is difficult to travel, and the window for caravan travel is fairly small if they want to avoid the snows. Another road down here would provide an alternate route.
“They were also looking for another pass into the Western Kingdoms,” he continued. “Hellsbreath Pass is the only way through, and there are always threats about closing it down. So far, there hasn’t been enough animosity between the Western Kingdoms and the Kingdom of Tyr to lead either to close their border, but the threat is always there. And if the bandits ever get unified, they might be able to block it. It’s a fairly narrow, easily defensible pass.”
“Well,” Giorge asked. “Do we stay here for the night or keep going?”
“Why don’t you scout ahead a little ways,” Ortis suggested. “We’ll wait for you here.”
“All right,” Giorge said, spurring his steed to a light trot.
“Maybe you should go with him,” Hobart suggested. “In case he finds something he can’t deal with.”
Ortis nodded as one of him started out after Giorge.
“If we stay here,” Hobart said. “We’ll need to find shelter. It feels like a frost in the air tonight.”
“I’ll get some firewood,” Ortis said. “The roadbed ends about a mile ahead of us. The old road is still evident, but mainly because it is still relatively flat. Most of the stones are covered, and it’s rising sharply.”
“Maybe we should keep going,” Hobart suggested as he pointed at the cliff. “If we’re going to cross that ridge tomorrow, I’d rather it was in the daylight.”
“We won’t reach it tonight,” Ortis said. “We may not get there tomorrow, either. The road is rising and curving with the mountain. The summit of this mountain connects up with that one,” he pointed at the cliff. “The road follows it. We’ll be going north on this mountain until we reach the south face of that one, and then turn west for quite a while before reaching the cliff.”
Hobart frowned. “Are there any caves?” he asked. “I’d rather spend the night in a cave than out in the open here. That west wind is already picking up, and it’s going to get cold.”
Ortis shook his head. “We haven’t found any yet,” he said. “And the mountainside is too steep for the horses to climb. The old road narrows in places; it wasn’t built for a caravan. If they had kept building this road, they would have had to cut deep into the mountainside to make room for one. It’s still wide enough that we don’t have to worry about it, but don’t be surprised if we can’t turn the horses around at some point. This clearing is our best option for tonight.”
Hobart sighed. “We’ll be taking it slow, then?”
“Yes,” Ortis said. “There isn’t any point in hurrying on a trail like this.”
“What if we get attacked?” Angus asked.
“By what?” Ortis countered. “There hasn’t been any sign of animals much larger than a rabbit since we got out of that valley. I don’t think the larger animals come up here; the mountain is too steep, and there isn’t much food. Now, when we get to that cliff, it could be different. There’s bound to be caves, and most caves are occupied by something.”
“We won’t have to worry much about bears,” Hobart added. “They’ll be foraging in the valley for the late season berries and fish. They’re going to be hibernating soon, and some of those caves will be ideal places for them to sleep through the winter. We’ll have to watch for them when we come back.”
“I was thinking more along the lines of things other than animals,” Angus said.
“Dwarves?” Hobart chuckled. “We’re in The Tween, remember? They don’t come this far out from their holes, and even if they did, they’d likely be underground. Of course, we’ll have to watch for them in the caves, too. We don’t have to worry much about Hellsbreath’s patrols, either; there’s been no sign of them coming this far, their tracks stop at the lava flows. I think they camp there and turn back around to haunt the valley.”
“Hunt, more like,” Ortis said. “They aren’t just patrolling for hazards, you know. There are plenty of deer in the valleys, and the patrol serves as a hunting party, too.”
Angus frowned. Something was bothering him. “If there aren’t any tangible dangers,” he asked, “why do people avoid The Tween?”
“Most people don’t want to come in here to begin with,” Ortis said. “Those who do often find it too challenging for travel. The valleys are okay—except when it rains; then the rivers and streams bloat up and the flooding can wash away anyone careless enough to be too close to them. Mudslides and rockslides generally happen then. But the easily accessible valleys are few, and the mountains around them are difficult to climb.”
“Don’t forget the volcanoes,” Hobart added. “The lava flow Angus blasted through isn’t the only one out here, I assure you.”
“And the winter,” Ortis added. “The further you get into The Tween, the longer the winter is. Unless you have a very good reason for coming here, it isn’t worth the risk. A half day from the roads, and it’s about as unfriendly a country as any you’ll encounter.”
“Those are the things we all know about,” Hobart said. “They keep most people out. But others, like us, who are foolhardy enough to enter The Tween generally don’t come back. If they do, it was because they were frightened out of it before they got much further. Haven’t you felt it yet? A sense of foreboding clinging to the air and eating away at you?”
Angus shook his head. “I’ve felt nothing of the sort,” he said. “Have you?”
“Not yet,” Hobart chuckled. “But we’re still on the fringe of The Tween. It might not hit us until tomorrow or the next day.”
“By the way, Angus,” Ortis said, turning to him. “If we had gone around the other side of this mountain, we never would have gotten to that cliff. These two mountains are connected; there isn’t a pass between them. You should be grateful you had the wand. We are.”
“Or will be,” Hobart corrected, “once we get there and find treasure. If we don’t, we’ll probably regret the use of that wand.”
“You know, Angus,” Ortis said. “You can use that wand to make a cave for us, can’t you? It would make the journey faster. We wouldn’t have to stay here tonight, and wouldn’t have to waste time finding shelter as we go.”
Angus shook his head. “I’d rather be subject to the elements.”
“Why?” Hobart asked. “We know the wand can do it.”
“It’s not that I can’t do it; it’s that I don’t want to,” Angus said. “It isn’t wise to waste magic in that way.”
“It wouldn’t be a waste if it kept us warm,” Hobart grumbled.
“I’d agree with you, Hobart, but it doesn’t work that way. I can only use the wand six more times before the magic is gone.”
“Really?” Ortis said. “I thought those things lasted forever.”
Angus half-smiled. “No magic is ever permanent. Not even the magic around us. It changes over time. A wand like this only contains the spells that are captured by it when it was made. When I found this one, it contained nine spells. I’ve used three of them.”
“Is it the same with the scrolls?”
Angus shook his head. “The scrolls aren’t magical. They contain the instructions for casting spells. That’s why I have to prime myself with them; the magic is both within me and around me, and I draw upon both of them according to the instructions given in the scrolls. But I have to memorize those instructions; if I cast them from the scroll, I risk losing it.” Careful, Angus, don’t say too much. The explanations only get more and more complicated, and they wouldn’t understand them anyway.
“The same with Teffles’ book?”
Angus nodded. “Books and scrolls are pretty much the same. They’re both mnemonic devices to assist wizards in remembering the precise methods for producing the knots necessary for casting particular spells. We can manipulate the strands withou
t such guidance, but it rarely does what we hope it will do. Magic is more like an unruly master than an unruly servant.”
“Well,” Ortis said. “I’m glad you used the wand. It may yet save our lives if the winter snows come earlier than normal.”
Angus nodded. At least I know how the wand works, and if I ever master the spells involved, I might even be able to capture them in the wand myself.
“If we’re going to stay here, then,” Hobart said. “We may as well get started.”
“Giorge and I will bring back firewood,” Ortis said. “There are a few bushes with large enough branches to burn for the night. No trees, though; the slope is too rocky and steep.”
“Angus and I will care for the horses,” Hobart said. “He needs practice.”
15
“Angus?” Ortis hissed, his voice soft, urgent. “Wake up. Someone is approaching.”
Angus blinked, rolled over. It was cool, almost cold. The fire was out. There were few stars, and the moon was half-hidden behind clouds. He yawned, smacked his lips, and reached for his water flask. “So?” he said, blinking groggily.
Ortis turned and watched him for several seconds before saying, “It’s a rider.”
“Just one?” Angus grumbled as he sat up. “Why wake me for that?”
Again a pause, then Ortis said. “He’s seen me.”
“Good,” Angus said.
Ortis shook his head. “He’s stopped. No, he only slowed down. He’s approaching me.”
“Well,” Angus muttered. “Why