Chapter 2 (In Progress)

It took nearly a night of arguing to draw out a rough course to the Dragon Spire Mountains. They lay - at a brisk pace - a week's journey to the south. Peleg never really cared much for traveling beyond the town and neighboring settlements, so he knew little of the geography. The first leg of their journey would take them through Ashen Vale, a settlement of rather belligerent goblins. That place he did know about - his brother had lost an arm when they were young and wild and had ventured too far into the vale seeking treasure.

As they started out in the whitish dawn, Lord Montrose, at the front of the party, was bragging about how one of his Northern Guardmen could defeat a dozen of the goblins. "They are nothing to fear when we are all together," he chuckled.

Peleg enjoyed very much how the cotton tunic of the one named Tarrant gathered up around her buxom chest and flowed down her sleek sides. He didn't like how she refused to look at him, though, and how she kept staring every so often at the too-delicate but handsome blond man near the rear of the group. No, these were not people he would easily befriend. Perhaps Geraud, the warrior, who was now arguing with the scribe over their direction. But even he seemed less than friendly.

"Why are we going through the farmlands?" demanded Geraud. "Clearly we should have cut through the rear of the town wall and circled down the foothills to the east. This way we'll have a steeper path and we'll be open to more goblin attacks."

"Well I... I was told to take us the most direct route," said the quivering scribe, pausing for a moment at an opening in the fence around one pasture. A cow grazing nearby looked up at the adventurers and chewed her cud thoughtfully.

Tell me the ladies aren't going to try to feed that animal, thought Peleg.

Sure enough, Tarrant pulled a handful of grass from the ground and went closer to the beast. It was a glorious green and sunny day, truth be told. The warm air and open smell almost made Peleg wish his vocation allowed him more pleasant days and less skulking about at night. If only he could be rid of this lot, he might enjoy the day.

"Let's send the scout out to have a look, shall we?" said the scribe. "Oh, oh scout?"

"It's Reuel," said Peleg, scowling.

"We're debating the wisdom of this course," said the scribe. "Might you go ahead and check the trails leading down from this plateau?"

"Of course," Peleg answered, happy to be asked to go farther away from the group.

After a long day of negotiating a good purchase price for the milking cow and dealing with the general disarray and disagreements of the traveling group, it was good to have the cook tent up and dinner served. Everyone was tired and hungry, greedily slurping from their bowls. The campfire was a small pool of light in a world of blackness. Those sitting around the fire were wrapped in blankets. It was always thus, since the part of your body facing the fire was toasty, but everything facing outwards was becoming frost-bitten.

‘Oh, to be warm all over, all at one time’ she thought wistfully to herself as she walked past the fire.

“Excellent” Said the Scribe, indicating his bowl of stew. Tarrant brought herself out of her thoughts and smiled her acknowledgment as she walked past with Reuel’s dinner.

A piece of paper was laying on the ground. “Oh, is this yours?” She picked it up and held it to the Scribe.

His eyebrows drew together. “Why no, that isn’t the type of paper I use. This is much better quality.” He reached for it, but Peleg was there first.

“It’s mine.” Said Peleg, turning towards them. “I must have dropped it while taking my cape off.” He held his hand out for it.

“Here you go.” She said, as she was almost upon Reuel. “I’m glad you made it back while it’s still hot.”

“Thank you.” He said, ignoring the proffered bowl and taking the paper, quickly folding and placing it in his vest pocket with one hand as he reached for the bowl with his other. “It smells very good.”

“Would you like some ale?”

“Please.”

As Tarrant walked away she murmured something softly. Peleg heard bits of it. “Follow where the mountain glows, enter where the beams caress. Soft heat will melt the winter snows and yield to you your egress.”

He hunched in his blanket, shoveling in the hot, meaty stew. He was cold, tired and hungry and this was just what was needed after a long day of scouting for their route. ‘Dropping the paper with the riddle! How could I have done that?’ He saw Tarrant’s feet walk past the fire towards him and looked up to take the ale. Once again, he heard her murmuring the little ditty.

Suddenly, he stiffened. ‘What the….!!!!’.

He grabbed her wrist, causing her to spill a bit of his drink. Before she could say anything he whispered “Where did you learn that poem?” He knew what the answer had to be, but his mind wouldn’t accept it. He had to hear her say it.

Tarrant looked at his hand wrapped around her wrist. She didn’t pull away, as she could tell it would be useless. Besides, he looked very upset. Looking in his eyes she almost pitied him, he looked so confused and dread-filled. ‘This is strange.’

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have peeked. But it was just so interesting, to think someone could write that small. The whole page was blank, but whoever wrote on it decided to just write on the edges. And it was catchy, the little bit I read and remembered.” ‘Please don’t let him faint. He looks as white as a ghost now.’

Peleg gulped. Then loosened his grip. “Where exactly did you see it?”

“On the edge of the page- your paper. The one I just handed to you.”

She looked over his shoulder and he turned his head to see what she was looking at. There stood Alicia, straight and tall, smirking and icy.

“So, “Reuel”, it seems some in our party are not exactly as they would first appear.” As always, she managed to say his name as if she knew what his real name was. Every time she spoke, he felt like hauling off and slapping her.

“That’s true of everyone, Alicia.” He said coolly, as he turned his attention back to Tarrant. And he stiffened, as he looked at Tarrant’s face. While Alicia was busy looking at him for a reaction, she didn’t see Tarrant’s- to her. Her eyes focused on Alicia’s face, her body taut, as if about to spring. There was an angry look in her eyes.