“Cargans [24] enough to carry me and my friends.”
Sir Lathan was scowling, obviously not pleased.
‘That’s the deal,” Paithan said.
“What about the dwarf? He one of your friends, too?”
Paithan had forgotten about Drugar, standing silently beside him the entire time. He looked down, to see the dwarf looking up, the black eyes flickering with that queer, gleeful gleam.
“You’re welcome to come with us, Drugar,” said Paithan, trying to sound as if he meant it. “But you don’t have to-”
“I’ll come,” said the dwarf.
Paithan lowered his voice. “You could go back to the tunnels. You’d be safe there.”
“And what would I go back to, elf?”
Drugar spoke quietly, one hand toyed with his long, flowing beard. The other hand was hidden, thrust into his belt.
“If he wants to come with us, he can,” said Paithan. “We owe him. He saved our lives.”
“Pack your gear then and make ready. The cargans will be saddled and waiting in the yard out there. I’ll give the orders.” Lathan picked up his helm, and prepared to walk out the door.
Paithan hesitated, conflicting emotions tugging at him. He caught hold of the knight’s arm as Lathan passed him.
“My friend isn’t a coward,” said the elf. “He’s right. Those giants are deadly. I-”
Sir Lathan leaned near, his voice low and quiet, for the elf alone. “The SeaKings are fierce warriors. I know. I’ve fought them. From what we heard, they never had a chance. Like the dwarves, they were destroyed. One word of advice, elf.” The knight’s eyes gazed steadily into Paithan’s. “Once you’re gone, keep going.”
“But . . . the weapons?” Paithan stared, confused.
“Just talk. To keep up appearances. For my men and the people around here. You couldn’t get back here fast enough. And I don’t think weapons-magical or not-will make any difference anyway. Do you?”
Slowly, Paithan shook his head. The knight paused, his face grave and thoughtful. He seemed, when he spoke, to be talking to himself.
“If ever there was a time for the Lost Lords to return, that time is now. But they won’t come. They’re asleep beneath the waters of the Kithni Gulf. I don’t blame them for leaving us to fight this alone. Theirs was an easy death. Ours won’t be.”
Lathan straightened, glowering at the elf. “Enough haggling!” the knight said loudly, rudely shoved his way past. “You’ll get your blood money.” He tossed the words over his shoulder. “That’s all you blasted elves care about, isn’t it? You there, boy! Saddle three-”
“Four,” corrected Paithan, following Sir Lathan out the door.
The knight frowned, appeared displeased. “Saddle four cargans. They’ll be ready in half a petal’s fold, elf. Be here on time.”
Paithan, confused, didn’t know what to say and so he said nothing. He and Drugar started off down the street, following after Roland, who could be seen in the distance, leaning weakly against a building.
The elf halted then, half-turned. ‘Thanks,” he called back to the knight.
Lathan brought his hand to the visor of his helm in a solemn, grim salute.
“Humans,” muttered Paithan to himself, heading after Roland. “Try to figure them.”
CHAPTER 24
SORINTH, ACROSS THILLIA
‘THE KNIGHT AS MUCH AS ADMITTED TO ME THAT HE AND HIS MEN CAN’T HOLD
out against these monsters. We’ve got to head sorinth, to the elven lands. And we’ve got to leave now!” Paithan stared out the window, eyes on the eerily silent jungle. “I don’t know about you, but the air feels or smells strange, like that time the tytans caught us. We can’t stay here!”
“What makes you think it’ll make any difference where we go?” Roland demanded in a dull voice. He sat in a chair, his head in his hands, elbows leaning on the crude table. By the time Drugar and Paithan had managed to get the human to his home, he was in a sorry state. His terror, so long held inside, had exploded, piercing his spirit with its deadly fragments. “We might as well stay, die with the rest.”
Paithan’s lips tightened. He was embarrassed by the man, probably because he knew the wreck huddled at the table could very well be him. Every time the elf thought about facing those terrible, eyeless beings, fear shriveled his stomach. Home. The thought was a knife’s prod to his back, keeping him moving.