“I had heard of the thieving of course,” Cormac told her as they toiled up the steep trail toward the foreboding summit, “but I had not known what was in the compartment.”
“A parchment,” Shiara said. “A map and a note that a very old and very great treasure of magic lay somewhere in a cave near the top of this mountain.”
“So we come hotfoot deep into the Wild Wood to stir up something which has lain undisturbed for aeon and on,” Cormac said. “Better, I think, to leave it lie. Sufficient unto the day are the evils thereof, Light.”
Shiara smiled thinly. “This evil’s day has come it seems. Someone knew of the map and we have strong reason to believe that that someone now knows at least generally what the map had to say. We think someone was looking through the eyes of our thief when he died.”
Cormac grunted. “So it is a race then.” He looked up at the summit with its wreath of grey-black clouds.
“A race,” Shiara agreed. “Although we may have lost already.”
“You sense something?”
“No, but I can use my head as well as my magic. Whoever sent that thief had more time to prepare than we did. If the League knew generally what was on that parchment they could easily have been ready to move.”
“So that is why we were sent upon the Wizard’s Way. I mislike this, Light. If the League are ahead of us it means a meeting battle. Those are always chancy and I have the feeling we would be outnumbered.”
“I doubt any of the factions of the League Council would be left out of such an enterprise, so I cannot argue with you. But what would you? There were no others in the Capital fit for such a mission and we dared not delay.” She looked up the trail. “We can only hope we are in time.”
As they worked their way up the steep slopes the forest changed around them. The great oaks and beeches gave way to pine and firs and thick green rhododendrons. Here and there outcrops of dark rock poked through the thinning soil, more and more of it as they climbed.
The air changed about them as well, growing cooler and dank with the glacier’s breath. There was a dampness in the air that hinted fog and even in full daylight the mists moved the horizons closer. The mountain loomed over them and they had to crane their necks further and further back to see the snow-clad summit.
They were almost to the treeline when Cormac pulled even with Shiara and spoke quietly in her ear. “We’re being followed I think.”
Not by look or action did Shiara show she had heard. “How many?”
Cormac shook his head. “Not many. Not creatures born to the woods either.”
“The League? The ones who set the thief?”
“Possibly.”
Shiara stopped and closed her eyes. With intangible eyes and ears she searched for signs of magic about them. She did not dare risk active magic so close to something so powerful.
“Ahhh,” she breathed at last. “The League indeed. But one man only. Luck may be with us, my Sun. I think this is a private quest, not an expedition sent by the League Council.”
“You know this man?”
“He is called Toth-Ra, a minor wizard.”
“Is he dangerous?”
“Like an adder. Small and puffed with malice.”
“And we seek a dragon yonder.” Cormac jerked his head toward the snow-covered heights. “Well, Light, what say you?”
“I say leave him for now. He cannot do us much harm and I will need everything I have for lies above.”
Well behind the pair Toth-Ra toiled up the slope. He puffed as he came and stopped to rest frequently both because he was unused to exertion and because he did not want to tread too closely on the heels of the two Northerners ahead of him.
A pretty train this, he thought, like ants following a scent trail.
Even further above, he knew, was the party sent by the League to obtain the treasures of the mountain. A group of black robes and apprentices, carefully balanced to represent each faction of the League council. After them the two from the Council of the North. And finally, himself, representing naught but his own interests.