Two speckled hounds raced ahead of the cohort, who were now walking with their horses. The night had been long and arduous as they’d climbed out of the valley and into more difficult terrain. And now the hounds were struggling to keep a scent.
Their noses searched as their master rode behind on horseback. She held a large, jagged tooth, once pulled from a horse’s mangled carcass by a farmer. He was kind enough to loan them this rare item, as it possessed Rahan’s scent.
The nose of one hound rose and twitched, causing the other to stop and watch. It released a wild howl that was shortly followed by another.
“We’re on,” the woman called to the group. She was slender and fitted with a dark leather tunic.
“Mount up!” Illian shouted, and forty-one men and women mounted their saddles. “Mighty fine mutts you have there, Vera.” The woman’s head turned sharply, her face pointing to the ground.
“They ain’t mutts, you gormless bog for brains.” She then spurred her horse forward to catch up with her hounds.
Illian looked as if he couldn’t decide whether to convey shock or distaste, so he settled on some odd combination of the two. He wasn’t used to working with peasant-folk, and it showed.
“Onward, Captain. Dawn approaches.” Roland said wryly with a smirk as his horse trotted behind Illian’s. He gave his old friend a hard pat on the back, nearly knocking him off balance. Then, the two were galloping behind the hound master, with the thundering sound of a war cavalry just behind.
The sun’s radiant beams peeked over the crest on the horizon, imbuing the world with a rosy tint. Its light refracted in bulbs of dew collected by the forest’s leaves. They shimmered and sparkled with each gust of wind, creating the illusion of stars floating among the trees.
But Roland cared not for the morning’s beauty. His mind was constricted, focused only on thoughts concerning his daughter.
He remembered a day not so long ago. Sofia had been struggling as she shoveled peat from the ground into a barrel. She’d slipped into the trench and become covered in a thick layer of muck. Her eyes were swollen from her tears.
Seeing this, Roland attempted to help before falling into the sludgy pit himself, just as his daughter had. Her cheeks perked, and her eyes brightened as she let out a cheery giggle. Before long, they were both laughing.
He lifted her to his shoulders and walked back to their cottage after gathering the boys from the stable. There, he made a fire and prepared a meal.
“We’ve worked hard enough today, and hard work earns a good meal and an even better story,” he said before giving Sofia a wink.
He’d never forget the glimmer Sofia held in her eyes as he told one of his tales. He loved that.
But now that glimmer was gone, taken from him by that demon. Roland could feel his blood as it pumped through his veins. His grip on the reins tightened, and his teeth gritted in his mouth.
Suddenly, the hounds ahead let out a wail before going eerily silent. He could hear the sound of curses being flung in the air as he and Illian quickened their haste toward a clearing.
There, sobbing with her axe drawn, was Vera, with one of her hounds nearby. The other was gone, and the smell of blood was thick in the air.
They glanced up at a steep cliff, and above that, Roland could see the mouth of a wide cavern. On its precipice stood an emerald-green wyvern with its wings raised to the sky and blood dripping from its mouth. It let out a deafening screech as the cohort emerged from the wooded thicket.
“I’ll have your head, you damned beast!” Roland screamed as he spurred his horse forward. The cohort roused behind him, charging forward while shouting their own challenges.
Illian paused and called out to his friend, who was now racing up the crag, but it was too late. Roland was gone, and only the warrior within him remained.
Rahan watched, drew in a deep breath, and waited.
To Be Continued…
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