The Phoenix Thief

Chapter 19

For the rest of the day they continued through the arid lands. The horses' steady pace ate up the miles, until the road and the river turned sharply to their right.

The waters led to a valley vastly different to the lands before it. Lying between mountains that stood red in the dying sun, the valley's greenness almost took Joakim's breath away. How could all this life exist so close to such a barren place?

"Is this it?" Cren asked.

"Must be," Erstas replied. "The townsfolk spoke of the valley as unnaturally spelled. I can't imagine anything more unnatural than such greenery after such dryness."

Framed on either side by alpine ranges, and divided almost exactly in half by the fast-flowing Gargle, perhaps a mile of open ground lay between the rising foothills.

Here, like the Derring Dales north of the twin cities, small farms stood in lush fields, with fat livestock, a sharp contrast to the scraggly beasts that wandered near Lothra's southern reaches. The dales had teemed with men, but he saw no people here. The road wound through fields and copses as lonely as the plateau behind them.

"What a beautiful place," Erstas remarked as they passed under the boughs of a thicket. "I wonder if-." A snort from the ogre cut him off. The thing grunted more woefully with each passing hour.

"That's far enough," a growling voice came from the trees.

Joakim froze.

"Who are you and what do you bring?"

"For Six's sake, Helfor," a calmer voice said. "Lusa told us to expect them. You must forgive my friend." The speaker stepped out from the trees a moment later. He had blonde hair, dark skin, and features as fine as a porcelain doll's, with startling golden eyes. The irises were smaller than they should be, so that the whites could be seen all the way around them. "You must be the scholar," the man said, his smile warm but eyes watchful, "brave rescuer of troubled fey."

"So the twaiga made it," Cren said, sarcastically. "Oh good!"

"Indeed." The man ignored Cren's scowl. "He was very impressed by your actions. He asked me to convey his thanks. My name is Marcus. Welcome to the valley of Ban Thaeri. This is Helfor." He gestured to the figure who stepped out from behind a tree trunk. "He welcomes you, too."

Helfor's face did not look welcoming. Tanned, golden-haired and huge, he wore furs as thick as his massive arms, and a grimace like he'd stepped in something rank.

"Pleased to meet you," said Erstas. "My name is Scholar Millius. I have journeyed from the far south. The others are my apprentice Joakim, my ward Hoi-Yan, and my swordswoman Cren."

"What kind of scholar needs a swordswoman?" asked Helfor, moving to lift the canvas covering the ogre's cage.

"A cautious one," replied Cren, her hand on the knife at her hip.

Helfor scowled all the more.

"You are all welcome," Marcus said. He too had stepped forward to peer at the stricken ogre. "As is the ogre. Sickly as he is, we may still save him. Our healer has bid us to act quickly. Your horses must be tired, but could they risk a trot? It isn't far."

"We can certainly try," said the old man, moving aside so that Marcus might join him on the wagon. Marcus ignored the gesture and instead started off at a run, faster and smoother than Joakim would have believed, leaving their two wagons to follow.

For the next half hour they rushed through the valley, the wagon's hard seat battering Joakim's tired rump. Once out of the trees, their destination appeared. Across green fields stood a solid block of white, perched on the lower reaches of a towering mountain. The road ran directly to it, passing through a cluster of well-made cottages at the foot of the mountain.