They came to a large earthen mound topped by a pyramid of human skulls. A tall wooden post, rising from its center, supported a horse skull painted with intricate blue whorls.
Roscoe brought the party to a halt and called to Drax.
“What’s all this about?”
The scout took a deep breath and let it out slow.
“It’s a warning. This here’s the territory of the Blue Horse People, the ones I told you about. Big tribe. Real dangerous bunch. The Blue Horses don’t like strangers comin’ into their lands. If they catch you, your skull goes on the pile.”
Without waiting for a reply, Drax urged his horse a little ahead of the party, searching the landscape.
Bart growled in disdain.
“That don’t scare me. Nobody really dangerous would pile skulls like that. It’s just bluff.”
Thurmond had often heard Sarah describe Bart as a blustering buffoon, and this seemed to prove her point. To him, the warning looked entirely sincere, but he kept his opinion to himself.
Roscoe shrugged.
“Whatever it means, we can’t stop now, not for a pile of old bones.”
And so, they entered the lands of the Blue Horse People.
The day, though bright, remained cool. The column moved through an endless series to low grassy ridges that had, perhaps a thousand years before, been sand dunes. All was quiet save for the sigh of the wind and the occasional shriek of a kite.
Desolate as it was, the country reeked of danger. They rode with their helmets buckled beneath their chins and their shields strapped to their arms. The Gascar archers kept their bows strung and their arrows close to hand. Sarah had her wand in easy reach.
Yet for all their apprehensions, no foe came boiling over a ridgeline. As the day wore on to late afternoon, Thurmond began to relax a little. Perhaps their fears had been exaggerated. Then he heard Bart’s condescending, artificial laugh.
“See? I told you, didn’t I? No pack of barbarians are gonna attack armored soldiers like my men. They’re hidin’ someplace, hoping we’ll pass through and leave ‘em alive.”
Drax turned slowly in the saddle and stared into the knight’s face.
“Take a look over there…”
He pointed to a ridgeline on their left flank.
“…and tell me what you see.”
Bart remained as oblivious as ever.
“I see a little rimple of dirt. Why? What am supposed to see?”
“Look a mite closer, milord. You’ll catch a little gleam of light from time to time. Maybe two or three of ’em.”
Sure enough—careful observation revealed pinpricks of reflected sunlight. Drax now turned away from Bart, choosing instead to speak to Roscoe.
“Them are spearpoints. The Blue Horses, they use real long lances. Sometimes they forget to keep ‘em hid below a ridgeline.
The old Adventurer grew deadly serious.
“Why didn’t you tell us this before?”
“’Cause I wasn’t sure until a just a moment ago. I thought I seen somethin’ in the corner of my eye, you know how that goes, but I wasn’t sure what it was. I didn’t want to put you in a panic ‘til I knew for certain.”
Roscoe was plainly dissatisfied with Drax’s answer.
“I think you can see, I ain’t in no panic. Now tell me what you think we oughta do.”
“Ain’t nothin’ much we can do but try and get away. Right now, some warrior is ridin’ hard to fetch some more of the tribe. You don’t wanna get caught by them. The sun is startin’ to go down. There ain’t much dark up here this time of year, but maybe we can lose ‘em in what little bit we got. I doubt it, but we can try.”
“Are these boyos good trackers?”
“The best.”
Luck was with them—a thick blanket of clouds obscured the moon, making the night darker than most. At Roscoe’s command, the party zigzagged several times, backtracked for a couple of miles, then hunkered down in a rocky ravine between two small hills.
It was uncomfortable with so many horses and riders crammed into so small a space, but they stretched out as best they could. Sore and exhausted from the long ride, Thurmond fell at once into a deep and dreamless sleep. It seemed, though, as if he had no more than closed his eyes when he was prodded awake by the toe of Roscoe’s boot.
“Rouse yourself, laddie. I’ve got something to show you.”
The sun was up. All around him, men were climbing to their feet, saddling horses, pissing, snatching a quick mouthful of food. Torgul was putting a fresh edge on his axe.
Sarah’s hair was tangled, and her eyes were swollen with sleep. Thurmond was tempted to give her a good morning kiss, but he held back. This was neither the time nor place for affection.
Roscoe yanked him by the arm.
“Come on, laddie, and stop moonin’ around. I need you to see somethin’. Sarah, you come along, too.”
He led them down the ravine until they came to a low spot.
“Climb up there, laddie, and tell me what you see. Keep your head low.”
The young Adventurer did as bid, then slid back down beside his friend.
“I saw half dozen riders with long lances sitting on a ridgeline. They seem to be waiting for us.”
“Aye, so they are. That’s exactly what they’re doin’. And I’ll tell you somethin’ else—there’s another group just like ‘em waitin’ on the other side. Now what do you think we ought to do?”
“We outnumber them. We should charge out of here and slay the first group as quick as we can. Then turn on the second group.”
Roscoe rubbed his beard thoughtfully.
“Now that’s a thought. Torgul suggested the same thing. But tell me—how exactly is that gonna help us get on with our quest?”
“It’d be better than getting trapped in this stupid ravine. It’d give us a chance to get away.”
“Maybe it would, but this land belongs to those boyos, and I don’t think there’ll be any getting’ away from ‘em. Drax don’t think so either.”
Thurmond considered for a moment
“Well, maybe Sarah could make some kind of illusion. Something to distract them while we ride away. Could you do that, Sarah?”
“I doubt it. My arm is still healing, so my energy is still low. Anyway, they’re in two different groups and too far away.”
“Could you disguise us somehow? Maybe call down a big blanket of mist?”
“Nay, our party is too big for me to cloak with my magic, even if I was up to it.”
“You brought along all of those charms and amulets. Could you use one of them?”
“I still don’t know what they do. I have some spell scrolls, but you know how dangerous they are. I won’t use them until we’re about to die.”
Roscoe came to a decision.
“Alrighty then—seems like there’s nothing for it but to do as Drax says and just keep ridin’. If they’re willin’ to talk, maybe Sarah can throw her charm spell on the leader. Or maybe I can challenge their champion to single combat. You never can tell with these barbarian fellas—they got real funny ways of doin’ things.”
The company mounted their steeds, and Roscoe led them out of the ravine and into a broad, flat plain. Drax scanned the countryside, checked the position of the sun, and stuck out his tongue to taste the wind. Then he turned them north toward the Cold Sea and the abode of Malachai.
The two groups of warriors stayed with them, one well to the front, the other keeping its distance in the rear. They made no effort to conceal themselves, but neither did they show any hostile intentions.
The column crossed the plain and entered a shallow valley running between two low grassy ridges. Suddenly, war parties of a hundred or more warriors appeared upon the ridges on either side. Two long lines of riders dressed in fur and leather and mail. Each wore a pointed iron cap and carried a very long lance.
The Blue Horse tribe had arrived in force.
Thurmond knew he was looking at death. There was no way they could prevail against so many. He wheeled his mount, seeking a way out, but too late. A third group of Vanarians had already ridden down to block the valley behind them. Still more filled the valley to their front.
It was Drax who saved their lives, spurring forward and proclaiming loudly in a weird, yowling tongue that brought to mind the cry of an angry owl.
He stopped before a man so huge that it seemed impossible that his small steed could bear his weight. Long blond braids fell past his shoulders, a gigantic mustache hid his mouth. His helmet was topped by a horsetail crest that hung past the center of his back.
The big man, obviously the leader, sat unmoving as Drax continued to yammer. The scout then pulled back the sleeve of his tunic and held up his right arm—his good arm—for the tall man’s inspection.
Thurmond turned to Roscoe.
“What’s he doing?”
“Bart told me about this back in the inn. Seems that Drax was in this country when he was young—learned their talk and their ways of doin’.”
“What’s he showing that big fellow?”
“Tribal tattoo. Drax claims he did somethin’ wonderful back then—slew somebody they didn’t like or some such—and got himself adopted into their tribe. I figured we’d need him to get us through these parts. That’s why I didn’t want you to kill him.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this?”
“’Cause you’re still a baby Adventurer, and I wanted you to figure things out for yourself. Drax is a bad ‘un all right, but he don’t deserved to be murdered for what he done. Some of the things he said was right, so they were.”
This was not the first time that Roscoe had shown such mercy to an old enemy. The young man found it hard to understand how he could be so forgiving.
Whatever Drax said to the big blond man, it worked. When he turned and rode back to the Adventurers, he was smiling. He reined in by Roscoe and Bart.
Thurmond drew back just a bit. He was desperate to learn what the leader had told Drax, but he did not want him to know it. His loathing for the man was so deep that he did not want to appear interested in anything he had to say.
The scout’s grin widened as he related his news.
“Lady Fortune loves us today. These is Blue Horse riders, just like I said. We’re in real luck here. That big warchief there—that’s Brodar Eaglebeak. He was just a kid when I was here afore, but we got lucky—he recalls me.”
Roscoe raised an eyebrow.
“So that means they like us?”
Drax cocked his head to one side and looked sly.
“Not exactly. It means they like me, but they ain’t made up their minds ‘bout the rest of you.
Bart’s lips curled in disgust.
“What do they want? Gold? How much should we offer them?”
“Nay—not gold. If it was just your gold they was wantin’, they’d kill you and take it.”
Roscoe gave him a long look.
“If it ain’t our gold they’re after, what’s on their minds?”
“Brodar ain’t decided yet. They don’t catch a big bunch like us very often, so this is a special occasion. Somebody’ll probably make up a song about it. He’s gotta take us back to his town and talk it over with the tribe’s elders. They’ll get drunk and argue back and forth just like they always does.”
The old Adventurer raised his other eyebrow.
“If we decline their hospitality, will they take it as an insult?”
Drax gave a dry chuckle.
“I doubt it—they ain’t so sensitive. But if you don’t do what they say, they’ll kill all of you right where you’re standin’. If you wanna live, you gotta take off all your armor and weapons and put ‘em in a pile.”
With no other option, both mercenary and Adventurer complied. Surrender was humiliating to be sure, but it was preferable to being slaughtered by the scores of horsemen who lined the ridges. Shields, swords, axes, bows, spears, mailshirts, helmets, even short daggers and knives were dropped into a heap. Most reluctantly, Sarah added her wicker pannier of magical items.