Sons of Ironstorm - Book 1: Griffon's Rise

Discovered Kinship

<<Consider us properly thanked, Ramalon. I suppose you're the one responsible for the campfires in the vale,>> Ciradaan curtly said, his weapons not wavering one iota.

Ramalon, a good hand or two shorter than the shortest of any of them, nodded in the affirmative.

<<They belong to other companies much like yours, traveling to Elvenfast in response to the invitation from the Var Ethisdil. They gather here to await the opening of the portal.>>

<<Portal?>> Fenoran asked, not bothering to hide the suspicion in his voice. <<Being cryptic isn't winning you a place in our hearts, Ramalon, or whoever you are. Best be a bit more forthcoming with the information, if you know what's good for you.>>

<<No need to threaten me, King Fenoran,>> Ramalon returned with a smile, disturbed by neither Fenoran's thinly veiled insinuation nor the glittering array of weaponry not but two paces from him.

<<You'll have all the answers you desire soon enough, when the portal opens in the morning. In the meantime, I imagine you'd like to set up camp and rest from your day's journey in relative safety. If you would be so kind as to follow me, I'll show you the place where you may pitch your tents.>> And with that, the short man promptly turned around and walked off into the darkness.

<<Nakana, Bouen, keep an eye on our visitor,>> Ciradaan murmured with a nod to Fenoran and the two scouts quickly slipped off into the darkness in pursuit of the strange little elf who called himself Ramalon, the ancient elven word for 'guide'.

<<We're not going to follow him, then?>> Ciramax quietly asked, staring after the vanished scouts.

In response Ciradaan let an equally soft sigh ease out his nostrils.

<<I don't think we've much choice, if we want to see this thing to its end,>> he said after a thoughtful pause. <<Besides, Ramalon is just enough off that he could very easily be a cleric, lending support to his tale,>> Fenoran added before nodding to Halen. <<No offense meant, of course, Master Halen.>>

<<None taken, your Majesty,>> Halen replied with a bow of his head.

<<Well, if we're going to follow him, we best do so before we're out of range of our scouts,>> Brax rumbled. Ciradaan and Fenoran both nodded in agreement.

<<Let us do so,>> the white haired monarch indicated and together the company slipped into the darkness after their vanished scouts.

Skilled trackers in their own right, KeLarion and Gaesin led the way, easily picking out the small signs Nakana and Bouen left behind to mark their passage through the relatively dense undergrowth lining the hill they now climbed. It wasn't a steep hill, a mere comment on the true hills of the Targ that marked the escarpment on which the Kela'bith had been erected. But, in the dark and without foreknowledge of the land's lay, the company found themselves laboring as they pushed to keep up to the fleet-footed scouts ahead of them.

Thankfully, halfway through what seemed like a never-ending climb, the path swung abruptly to the left to follow the swell of the hill's crest. Here the trees and undergrowth, half seen in the darkness, were somewhat lighter, making passage through their midst an easier task.

It was as the company, having stayed in a relatively tight group to avoid any of them getting lost in the unknown forest, pushed through the last line of trees and found themselves gazing into the vale Nakana and Bouen discovered earlier. Again the senior members of the company gathered to give the well-hidden campfires below, glimmering like scattered diamonds on a field of black velvet, a good look before they proceeded into the vale itself.