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Fajfah was livid. “Are you insane?” he shouted. “We are not murderers. We cannot kill innocent people. Oak deserved what happened to him. These men,” he pointed towards where Brodin, Cirren, Dean, Dal and Seth were sitting, “and woman,” he quickly added when Dal scowled at him, “are good people. I have travelled with them, spent time with them. We should not do this.”
The man he was confronting sighed. “I understand how you feel, but we have no choice.”
“Think carefully before doing anything rash,” Fajfah advised. “You are talking about murdering royalty.”
Uncertainty crossed the man’s face. While the threat of a long jail sentence hung over his head if he allowed the witnesses to live, he did not want to even think about what might happen to him if he was found guilty of killing two Princes. Fajfah had told him numerous times in his communications that the presence of royalty might cause an issue, but he had never dreamed the problem would be this big.
“You are right,” he reluctantly agreed. “I had forgotten that these are not all commoners. We should sleep on it and continue our discussions further in the morning.”
Fajfah breathed an audible sigh of relief. He may not have saved the people he had learned to look upon as friends, but at least he had postponed their execution for a while. He hoped he had bought enough time to convince the others that there was a better solution. Now all he had to do was think of one.
He took a water skin to the captives, holding it up so they could drink. Dean took a large mouthful, then spat it out into Fajfah’s face. “Traitor,” he snarled. The half-dwarf did not even attempt to defend himself. He had explained his position as best he could. If his friends could not understand and forgive, there was nothing he could now do to persuade them.
He did not approach them again, choosing instead to move closer to the fire and try to get some sleep. Dawn was only a few hours away so he did not hold out much hope that he would succeed. Other than Dal, the prisoners still had their arms tied behind their backs so the rest of the night was going to be long and uncomfortable. Despite this, and the worry that they might be facing their last dawn, sleep eventually took them.
It was still dark when Dean was awoken by something tickling his face. He slowly opened one eye, and found himself staring into a small furry face. “What are you?” he asked quietly, making the creature jump back in surprise. Now that it was not so close, he could see the creature better. It looked like a cross between a hare and a guinea pig, though much too large to be either. He struggled to sit up without frightening the animal away, but this was not easy with his hands tied behind him.
It wasn’t until he straightened up that he noticed a tiny man was astride the creature, riding it the same way humans ride horses. He was so surprised he almost called out, stopping himself just in time. The ‘man’ was brandishing a small spear, pointing it towards Dean in a threatening manner. Clad in garments made from animal fur, the little person looked so comical Dean could not keep the smile from his face. In as calm a tone as possible, he introduced himself. He had no idea what language he was using, but the strange little man seemed to understand him. He stopped thrusting his spear and slid off the animal’s back.
As soon as he was on the ground, he bowed to Dean and introduced himself. “My name is Candrel,” he said in a high pitched voice.
“Glad to meet you,” Dean said politely. “If you don’t mind me asking, what are you?”
“I am an imp,” Gladrel said. “And this is Mamoss, my mara.” The imp patted the hare-like animal as he spoke. Then he frowned, noticing for the first time that Dean’s feet were securely bound with rope. “Why are you tied up?”
Dean glanced over to where the man who was supposed to be on guard was snoozing by the fire. Keeping his voice low so as not to wake him, Dean told Candrel all that had happened.
“That is monstrous,” the imp declared, thrusting his spear into the air. “Do not worry, we will save you.” Dean looked at the little man doubtfully. What could an imp and a mara do to help? Candrel put his fingers to his lips and emitted a shrill whistle so high pitched Dean could only just hear it. Suddenly the clearing was filled with imps riding maras. Candrel gave orders and they set to work, one group using their spears to hack at the ropes binding Dean and his friends, the other tying up their sleeping captors with vines. The imps were so quiet and gentle they did not wake any of the sleeping men, not even Dean’s friends. Dal, however, opened her eyes the moment the imps approached her and Dean had to quickly cover her mouth to stop her from screaming out. He whispered into her ear that their rescuers were friendly and only released her once she had nodded confirmation that she would make no noise.
One by one, Dean and Dal gently woke their slumbering companions and instructed them to silently leave the clearing and follow the imps into the woods beside which they had been camping. The mara were surprisingly fast and, once they were far enough away that stealth was no longer essential, the humans had to break into a jog to keep up with them. They did not stop until the first rays of sunlight could be seen in the sky and Dal called out that she needed to stop to catch her breath. They were deep into the wood by then and completely lost. Dean forwarded Dal’s request to Candrel and he called out to his fellow imps to stop.
Dean took the opportunity to formally introduce his friends to Candrel and explain to them how they had been rescued. Though grateful to the imps, Brodin was concerned that they had been forced to leave their horses and supplies behind, but Candrel assured him that other imps had already been sent to retrieve them. Getting the humans away as quickly and quietly as possible had been his priority. Once they had put enough distance between themselves and the captors, it did not matter if his fellow imps disturbed the guards while retrieving their belongings.
“You had better send a message to my brother,” Brodin said to Dean. “He should know what has happened.”
Dean nodded. “I will try to find a bird.” He asked Candrel if he knew where would be a good place to locate one and, when he explained why, the imp laughed so much he fell onto the ground, clutching his stomach. “What is so funny?” Dean asked indignantly.
Tears were still streaming down the imp’s face when he stood up again. “I cannot believe you are using such dumb animals as messengers. It is a wonder any get through properly.”
“Do you have a better suggestion?”
“Use maras of course,” Candrel replied. “They are far more intelligent. You have seen how fast they can run and they have great endurance. On top of that, these ones are tame, but there are a lot running wild so the message can be passed around and will spread like wildfire.”
Dean inspected the beast critically. Now that it was becoming light he could see it better. Of all the maras present, Mamoss was the largest. It nearly came up to his knees and was quite stocky. It was covered in short, coarse hair, brown on the head and body, almost black on the rump and white on the belly. It was gazing at him with its dark brown eyes, which shone with intelligence. The derogatory words he was about to say died in his mouth.
“But birds can fly,” he said lamely. “They can spot my friends easier from the sky.”
Candrel made a rude noise in response which completely summed up his opinion of birds and their ability to find people, either on the ground or in the air.
“Okay,” Dean said, holding his hands up in surrender. After all, there was no harm in giving a mara a go. The imps had probably saved his life, so trusting them was the least he could do. “Which one do you want me to use?”
Candrel whistled and half a dozen imps appeared, seemingly from out of nowhere. They must have been in the nearby trees, but how they moved so fast and so invisibly Dean had no idea. Candrel told them that he needed use of their best tracker and one of the imps disappeared, returning moments later with his mara in tow. He did not look happy, throwing Dean a venomous glare before patting the animal affectionately.
“An imp and his mara can become quite attached,” Candrel explained, looking at the other imp sympathetically. “Go ahead and give your instructions.”
“How long do you think it will take for the mara to travel to Vada?” Dean asked. Candrel had not heard of the city, but recognised the description and gave his opinion. “Are you sure?” Dean asked in surprise. The number of days seemed far too short. Candrel nodded his head, so Dean turned to the designated mara and explained what he required of it. He described the city of Vada and how to get there. Having never personally been there, he was glad that Seth and Dal have been able to give him a detailed account, especially of the palace, where he hoped everyone was still staying. The animal confirmed it knew the place and had been there before, so Dean gave a quick rundown of recent events and asked the mara to tell everything to Sam. He then described her, and all of the people she would be with, in great detail. Once the animal confirmed it was happy that it would recognise any one of them, he gave one final instruction. If the mara could not locate any of those humans Dean had described within two sunsets of arriving in the city, the animal was to return immediately to its master.
“One more thing,” Dean called out as the mara was about to depart. It turned and looked at him. “Please tell Sam I miss her.”
Candrel had overheard Dean telling the mara to return, even if his message had not been delivered. “That was very kind of you,” he said.
Dean shrugged his shoulders. “I cannot guarantee my friends will still be there so there is no point in making the mara try in vain to find them.”
“You are a good person.” Candrel looked up into the sky. “It is time we were moving on. This wood is not big. We will lead you to the other side. The road you were travelling on circles around it so you will easily be able to find your way again.” Dean relayed what had been said to the others and they prepared to continue their journey.
The sun was high in the sky when the trees began to thin and they walked out of the wood and into a meadow. They did not have to wait long before the sound of galloping horses could be heard.
“Am I imagining things, or are there imps riding some of the horses?” Seth asked in amazement when their mounts came into sight.
“It looks like it,” Dean confirmed.
Candrel, however, was furious and angrily berated his brethren when they slipped off the horses’ backs, landing neatly on the ground. “What were you thinking?” he yelled. “If you had fallen you would have been killed. Who was in charge?” They all pointed at an older looking imp, who shifted about uncomfortably under Candrel’s stare. “I might have known,” he muttered before turning his attention to another of the imps, who appeared to be female. “And what are you sulking about?”
The imp pouted. “They would not let me throw the bad men in the river.”
“She wanted to drown them,” the older imp called out before Candrel’s glare silenced him.
“We do not kill,” he said coldly, turning his attention back to the female. “You know that.”
“Yes father,” she said meekly.
“What did you do with them?” Dean asked, amused by the exchange.
“We left them tied up,” she replied in a sulky voice. “I was not even allowed to stab them.”
Seth, Dal, Cirren and Brodin had been inspecting the horses, making sure all of their belongings had been secured onto them. The vines that had been used as ropes were surprisingly strong and would have to be cut with a sharp knife. “Where did the extra horses come from?” Brodin asked. “And all this extra gear?”
Dean translated for Candrel, who posed the same question to the retrieval party. “What extra?” came the reply. “They just brought back everything that was there.”
Dean started to laugh. “It must belong to the men who captured us,” he informed the Prince. “What should we do with it all?”
“Keep it,” Brodin decided. “It is always good to have spare mounts and there is no harm in having extra supplies. We can sell a couple of the horses later if we need to.”
“So let me get this straight,” Seth said. “Fajfah and his murdering buddies are securely tied up by the side of the road with no way of freeing themselves, no horses, no spare clothes and no food.”
“And your point is?” Dean enquired.
“No point. I just wanted to know if it sounded as good out loud as it did in my head.”
“And no money,” Cirren said. He had been inspecting the bags he knew did not belong to the party, in case there was anything of use in them. He held out a money bag filled with coins and grinned broadly.
“I kind of feel sorry for Fajfah,” Dean said. “He did argue against our deaths.”
“Well I for one do not,” Dal snapped at him. “After what he did to Oak he deserves everything he gets. I just hope nobody finds them for a long long time. I have heard that dying of thirst is very unpleasant.”
“Calm down,” Seth said, putting his arm around his wife’s shoulders. “I do not think that is likely to happen. We were close to a river, remember. Even if they do not manage to free themselves, they should be able to manoeuvre themselves over to it eventually.”
“Should we head for the nearest city?” Cirren asked. “We can find the local regiment of soldiers and report what happened.”
Brodin thought for a minute, then shook his head. “It will just be our word against theirs. On top of that, we would have to remain in the city until after the trial, which is a delay we cannot afford. I hate to say this, but I think there is nothing we can do as far as justice for Oak is concerned. For now at least. But Fajfah and those men had better spend the rest of their lives praying that we never set eyes on them again. What they did I can neither forgive nor forget and I am sure you all feel the same way.”
There were murmurs of agreement. The conversation was interrupted by Candrel asking if anything was wrong. Dean explained what they had been talking about before thanking the imps for all of their help and saying it was time to be moving on. Candrel said it had been his pleasure and if he could ever be of help again, he would. Imps lived in most places, unseen by humans, and could always be called upon in times of need.
Dean promised to remember that and said goodbye. The humans watched as the imps and their mara disappeared from sight once more into the wood. “And then there were five,” Dal said mournfully. “I really hope that Tor’s group is still intact.”
Late the next morning, a bird arrived to deliver a message from Sam. “They are no longer at the palace,” Dean informed the others, who had pulled their horses in beside his and were eagerly awaiting the news. “Tallon’s brother has the royal seal and is currently staying in Kavern.”
“Oh no,” Dal said. “I am glad I am not with them. That is the last place I want to go back to. I hope they keep Patrick on a tight leash.”
“There is some good news,” Dean continued. “They have found a likely place for our final destination. The far side of Mercia’s mountain range.”
Brodin frowned. “I have never heard of anyone ever crossing those mountains and coming back alive. Are you sure?”
“That is what the bird said.”
“We can worry about that later. For now we need to concentrate on finding the Grundle’s lair.” He was about to order them to start moving once more when a thought occurred to him. “You had better send another message to Sam, now that we know she is no longer in Vada.”
Dean asked for a description of the route Tor and his team would most likely be taking then asked the bird, who had perched itself on Dal’s arm while she fed it some dried seeds she had stored in her bag, if it would mind returning to Sam. Once it had eaten its fill, the bird finally agreed and Dean repeated the message he had given to the mara. “I hope this one gets to her okay,” he said to himself as he watched the bird fly off.