Brill hid in the rocks, covered by the camouflage cloak gifted to him by the rebel leader. Danton crouched beside him, peering up to scan the sky. That was the tenth dragon swoop they’d encountered in the five days they’d been on the plain. Two men had been taken. Men they couldn’t afford to lose.
Danton touched Brill’s shoulder and squeezed. “Time to move, kid. Salinda can’t wait much longer for help. The signs are not good.”
“The fire and the smoke?”
“Yes, and the dragon sign. By rights we should not have made it this far, well, not this easily. Although we’ve seen dragons, they have been few and far between and mostly not all that interested in us as food.”
“That’s good, isn’t it?” Brill kept his eyes on the landscape and then flicked his gaze to the sky. Smoke lingered high up and he could taste it on his tongue. He shivered when he thought of the scent of burned flesh they could detect on the breeze that morning.
Danton signaled to the rest of his men, and they erupted from cover, some from ditches where they lay with their cloaks over them, some wedged in crevices and crannies, others flat on the ground, blending in with the scree. “For us perhaps, but not for the vineyard.”
Brill frowned and licked his dry lips. The acrid taint of old smoke was growing stronger. For the first two nights after they had crested the Fire Ranges the glow of embers had been visible in the distance. Danton feared the worst had happened. Judging by the extent of the fire it appeared not only the vineyard had gone up in flames but the whole complex, including the free village and the forest plantation. Deep inside Brill felt that Salinda was alive, but he wasn’t sure it was more than wishful thinking.
*
By dawn they had reached the deserted cistern where Brill and Salinda had gone to collect dragon urine. Brill was exhausted. Tendrils of mist wafted over dried old bones. Whatever urine had been there, it had dried up. The routine was over. Dragons didn’t come there to feed any longer.
Didly, Danton’s second, took a few men to scout ahead. Brill watched him crouch, then signal half of the rebels to follow him. They fanned out, blending easily with the sticks of charcoal that were once vine stems. Already they had smeared soot on their faces and cloaks. He lost sight of them while Danton deployed the rest of his men to reconnoiter the other side of the vineyard, with orders to salvage what they could while they were at it.
Brill stared open-mouthed at the burned remains of the vineyard. A few steps forward and he discerned a foot in the blackened dirt. From the looks of it, a dragon had dropped it after eating the owner. A wave of nausea hit him. He thought of the horror the prisoners must have gone through, of the terrifying end to their drudgery. At least those who had burned would pass into the next life. He had no idea about the ones who’d been eaten, though. Were they condemned in the same way Salinda’s mentor had been when she’d buried him in ground? Perhaps Salinda was right and there was more than one way to the source.
“Do you feel well enough to move on?” Danton asked.
“Yes, though I’m not sure I can locate the place he took me to. It was underground, of that I’m sure—near a large building but …” Brill looked left and right. “But there are no buildings left standing …”
Danton shook his head. “We will check Salinda’s home site first and decide where to go after that.” His voice sounded desolate and Brill realized then that his friend cared for Salinda, really cared.
From the cistern, Danton followed a memorized trail. Perhaps he, too, had come often with Salinda to collect dragon urine. The place was deathly quiet now. Brill had seen so many body parts and portions of burned bodies he tried not to look any longer. When they found the remains of Salinda’s campsite, Danton let out an anguished cry. Her former home was barely recognizable, except for her water urn, which lay shattered in the ash.
Danton knelt in the dirt, searching through the rubble, and cried out, “She was not here when it burned. I’m sure. He has her, oh, Magol curse me—he has her.”
Brill’s heart skipped a beat as memories hammered at his mind, struggling to free themselves once more. “The Inspector?” he replied, voice hollow. As soon as he said it, the sweat gathered between his shoulder blades.
Danton stood and wiped his hands on his trousers. Sharing a bleak look with Brill he said, “Who else? We must find that underground room. Perhaps we are not too late. Come!”
Danton sped up, leaping over the remains of vine rows, heading toward the staging area. Brill scrambled after him, slipping on loose earth and the occasional fallen vine stem. His breathing was agitated, and he kept a close eye on the sky.
At the remains of the staging area, the rebel leader paused within sight of his two teams. “Be careful. Look for signs.”
Brill started to scour the area around him. Suddenly he frowned. “Danton! Look!”
The rebel leader turned in the direction Brill indicated. “Dragons. Dead dragons.”
Carefully they approached the carcasses. Large machine-fired stakes pierced their bodies. There were about five of them ranged in a semi-circle. Brill and Danton exchanged a glance. “Infra-pact rebels?”
Brill nodded. “Must be. Bastards were more powerful and better organized than my lot. They must have had inside help to get in and out of here so quickly, particularly with equipment like this.”
Gouges in the earth led off in the direction of the village—deep ruts where presumably the heavily laden wagons had dragged off their booty.
“We’re too late then. They must have come for the wine. They certainly came prepared. With most of the dragons sated on prisoners, they could pick these few off with their weapons.”
Didly’s team reached the area inside the ring of dead dragons. His men began searching on the ground. “Footprints. About fifty men,” Didly called.
Danton frowned and visually scanned the area around them. Then the rebel leader’s brow furrowed and he spun on his heel and called to his second. “Didly, don’t touch anything.” Didly didn’t hear him so Danton took a step forward and yelled in a panicked voice, “Ware! Ware of a trap.”
Brill found his gaze riveted on Didly. Too late, the fool was bending down. He’d found the hatch ring. “No!” Brill yelled in unison with Danton. “Down,” Danton ordered, while leaping onto Brill’s back and forcing him face-first into the cinders. A detonation sounded. There were screams and a hiss in the air. It rained nails. Brill writhed in agony at the pricks of pain in his hands. Danton fell off him, grunting.
A bomb. A lethal and bloody trap, manufactured to kill and maim and slow down pursuit. Brill pulled a nail from his hand. It was quite deeply embedded. Others on his forearm and the back of his leg were less so. Danton lay next to him, half on his face and half on his side. Brill walked around him shakily. “By the Wing!” he exclaimed when he saw how many nails protruded from Danton’s back. “Don’t move. I’ll take them out. Most won’t be too deep, I hope.”
Their blood mingled as Brill pulled the nails one by one from his friend’s back with his damaged hands. Brill thought of Danton’s bravery and how his new-found friend had tried to save his life. As he had guessed most of the projectiles hadn’t embedded too far and the ones that had missed vital organs and joints. Judging by the number of nails Brill removed from the man’s buttocks, Danton would not walk or sit comfortably for some time.
Glancing around as he finished his task, he saw that most of the men were up, picking the nails from their bodies. Those who were able assisted the injured. When he turned his gaze to the trapdoor, though, Brill gulped. Didly was a red mass of torn flesh and Twil, the man who had been nearest to him, was similarly mutilated. The hatchway smoked still, and what lay beneath it Brill could only wonder. He doubted that Salinda could still be alive if she’d been down there.
Brill pulled the last nail out of Danton’s back and the rebel leader grunted. His cloak and clothes were so shredded in places that his wounds showed clearly. “I think I have them all.”
Danton pushed himself gingerly into a kneeling position. “You missed one.” He turned to face Brill.
“Danton?” Brill yelped in horror and surprise. A nail stuck out of Danton’s left eye. “Why didn’t you say? I should have taken it out first.”
“No, I think not,” Danton replied. “Have you some cleanish cloth?”
“Yes.” Brill hated how ill he felt as he groped for his handkerchief, the cleanest piece of cloth he possessed, in the pocket of his pants. He didn’t know how to remove that nail jutting so hideously from Danton’s face. His knees were weak, and he couldn’t stop the tremble in his hand.
“Look for fire. You will need to burn the socket when the eye comes out.”
“No!” Brill couldn’t help himself. “I could try to slide the nail free …”
“Don’t fool with me, kid. The eye must come out. We will have to cauterize it to staunch the blood flow. Hurry, man. Do you want me to die?”
Brill gripped his handkerchief and swallowed as he passed it to Danton. Then, looking around for a living flame, he turned and ran toward a smoking ember, the remains of the trapdoor thrown from the blast.
The first ember held no flame. The flame in the second extinguished when he tried to coax it. Danton called out, urging him to hurry. On the other side of one of the dragon carcasses, Brill found some wood burning. It was the remains of a support stump, possibly reignited by dragon fire.
A familiar sound in the distance caught his attention, the rhythmic swoop swoop of wings. “Dragons!” he called out to the others. “Take cover.” Those recently injured disappeared from sight, covering themselves in debris and ash.
Brill hesitated. He needed to keep the flame alive, yet dared not run with it to Danton’s aid during a dragon attack. Being so close to the dragon carcass made him nervous. Did the beasts eat their own dead? If so, he was in serious trouble. A waft of sulphur reached him and a wave of smoke-laden air. Time to move. He peered over the lower half of the dragon, the scales now dull in death. He ducked behind the tail. Quite clearly the airborne dragon was headed straight for him. Quickly discarding his flame, he tried to bury himself in the dirt.
An anguished dragon cry reverberated around the vineyard. The force of the call made the smoke tremble in its upward spiral. Loose dirt vibrated around him and he tried to shimmy deeper into the soil and cinders. Even then he couldn’t resist a peek at the huge beast as it landed and trod over to the dead dragons. It was the largest of the species he had seen. Its scales were burnished orange around the leg and tail. The green and mauve had faded around its head, leaving it a dull silver color. It cried out again. The effect of the call left a chill in Brill’s heart and a tingling sensation all over his skin.
With its snout, the dragon pushed at the dead beast behind which Brill was hiding. When the deceased dragon didn’t move, it pushed harder. The carcass flipped on its side. The air whooshed out of Brill as the tail landed across his back, pinning him where he lay.
The live dragon called again, then blew out fire. Brill held his breath as the heated gas flew over his head. He thought idly that there would be plenty of fire now. Provided he lived. The fire blow seemed to go on forever. Brill’s lungs were near to bursting as he held his breath, not daring to inhale in case there was some deadly vapor or stray flame in the air.
All at once it was quiet and Brill could wait no longer, sucking in a tainted breath. The heavy sounds of wing beat, drawing long and deep through the air, heralded the departure of the aged dragon. Brill cleared his face of debris and looked around him, seeing that pockets of fire remained.
The weight of the tail still held him, though. Struggling forward he tried to claw his way out from under the beast. He had to work his body lower, grinding with his hips and scooping dirt out from in front of him. Finally he eased himself free and was able to crawl unimpeded. He erupted from the ground, sending dirt and ash in a wide arc. As he had foreseen, now there was plenty of burning debris. He took a moment to select a piece of wood that would fit into Danton’s eye socket. Skirting the dead dragon, he hurried back to Danton.
The remaining rebels emerged from their hiding places. Danton sat wearily, his head resting on his knee. Brill cringed as he neared him. How could Danton bear it?
“Best you don’t look too closely, kid. When I give the signal, shove the brand into my eye socket.”
Brill fell to his knees. “No, I can’t wound you.”
Danton grabbed Brill by the shirt collar, tearing it as he dragged him closer. “You must. If you can’t manage it, find another who can.”
Brill bit down on a retort and nodded. The wetness in his eyes shamed him.
Danton paused, his hand hovering near the edge of the nail. It had pierced the eyeball proper and not the lid. Then, taking a deep breath, Danton seized the end of the nail. It was not as simple as it seemed. Danton needed help to remove the eye. Brill shuddered once. “Wait. I’ll help you.”
Brill perched the brand on its unlit end so it still burned. He took his own dagger and flamed it. Facing his friend, he straddled him and readied himself to help. Danton said, his voice breaking slightly, “Don’t faint on me, kid.”
“I won’t.” Brill swallowed and wished his hands weren’t so sweaty and shaky. Danton grabbed the nail again and tried to lever the eyeball out. His knees stiffened and he hissed pain-filled breaths through his clenched teeth. Brill could see the red skin behind the eye. He lifted the eyelid and stretched it so that he could see more of the eyeball. Gently, he slid the edge of the blade in and at the same moment Danton jerked the eyeball. With a pop it slid free of the socket. Brill cut down on the cord connecting the eye to the brain, sawing the blade. Blood gushed out. Danton’s skin was pale and blood ran down the side of his face. Brill held him still with his weight while he groped for the brand. Whimpers of pain leaked out of Danton’s taut lips.
“Now,” he gasped out.
Blood curtained half of Danton’s face and stained his teeth red. Brill aimed the burning brand into the socket, heard the sick sizzle of burning tissue and Danton’s agonized wail. Danton’s body contorted violently, nearly knocking Brill and the brand askew. But with his bloodied hand on top of Brill’s, Danton reached up and held the brand in place. As it cauterized the flesh Danton began to roar, his voice tinged with anguish. Brill felt the world shift around him, and he fell sideways.
The sky was above him when he woke and realized he had fainted. Quickly he rolled over and crawled to his knees, groping his way over to where Danton lay against some rubble. His face was ashen, his dark eye socket rimmed with blisters. Dried blood caked his face and shirt. “You did well, kid,” he said weakly, lifting a shaky hand to touch his face.
Brill surged upright. “No, don’t touch it. I think it is sealed.”
Danton regarded him with his remaining eye, which was brown and bloodshot. He licked his lips before answering and swallowed. “You’re not wrong, my friend.” He closed his eye and his head lolled for a few minutes while Brill watched on, afraid for him. He touched Danton’s shoulder and squeezed lightly. Danton roused and said, “I need to rest a bit more before I can move again. See if you can scrounge up some food from the others and eat. You look terrible.”
“I look terrible?” Brill frowned and groped for his water bottle. “Take this. It will help.”
Danton nodded slightly, taking care not to jerk his head, and after a moment took the flask. “Check on the others. I want to know who else I’ve lost.”
“Will do.”
Brill did a scout around. The crude bomb had blown a hole in the ground, widening the trapdoor opening. The explosives had, as they had thought, been hidden in the debris above ground, carefully disguised for maximum damage.
They were already so few in number that they could ill afford to lose anyone, especially like this. Brill averted his eyes from Didly’s and Twil’s bodies and bit his lip. It wasn’t a pretty sight. A small step and he was able to peer into the hole without causing the loose dirt to collapse further. He couldn’t see far inside, but he had an idea. One of the men approached: Earl, who was a big man with a wide-cheeked, open face and dark curly hair cropped closely around his head. He always had rope with him, usually coiled and looped over his shoulder. Earl looked down at Didly’s remains and clicked his tongue. Twil lay further to one side. Blood trickled down Earl’s neck and there were a few more ragged holes in his shirt and trousers. “You all right?” the man asked.
“I’m fine. Mind if I borrow the rope?”
Earl unlooped it and stood by while Brill anchored it on one of the metal pegs that had previously held the ladder before lowering himself into the dark chamber. After his eyes adjusted to the shadowed room, he didn’t have to go far to find what he was after. A flagon of dragon wine lay on a table. He shivered in spite of himself when he took a quick look around him. It was dark but the familiar damp chill of the place made his skin icy. There was a strong smell, as well. Fearing what it meant Brill trained his eyes ahead of him. It was better not to think of Salinda being in that place.
The climb up the rope was harder. Luckily, Earl was still nearby and his smoky, tear-stained face loomed over the pit. He’d been good mates with Twil. He caught the flagon that Brill tossed up to him so that Brill could climb out. “Thanks, Earl,” Brill said, taking the flagon back so that he could check on the rebel leader. Earl asked after Danton. “He’ll be fine,” Brill responded, sounding more confident than he felt. “He’s as tough as they come.”
Danton was sleeping fitfully and occasionally moaning. Brill could barely stand to look at the blistered, blackened socket. Placing the flagon on the ground, he nudged Danton lightly on the shoulder. “Danton,” he whispered. He dared not put the wine on his wounds without warning him first.
“Mmpf …” Danton opened his good eye. If anything his pallor had worsened and sweat was beading on his forehead and dripping down his neck, leaving streaks in the soot and dirt caking his skin. “What is it?” Danton struggled to sit.
“I’ve fetched this flagon. The dragon wine heals. It hurts like hell when it’s put on your wound, but you’ll be the better for it … after a bit, I reckon.”
Danton locked eyes with him. “Do it quickly then. I don’t think I’m going to last otherwise.”
“Lie back and don’t be surprised if you can’t talk afterward.”
Danton lay back and angled his head toward Brill. Biting his lip, Brill gently dribbled the wine into the socket and around the edges. Danton didn’t cry out, but his body jerked like a fitting dog. With a weak, tortured sigh, he fainted. Before resting himself, Brill inspected the eye and nodded in satisfaction. The bloody blisters looked less angry and he could see new pink skin around the edges where healing had commenced. Now all they had to do was wait and see.
*
It wasn’t until sunset that they gathered in the room below the trapdoor. The lanterns were lit one by one and cast flickering light over the assembled men. Danton had slept a little while they had rested. Brill had been keeping watch for a couple of hours. The others had attended to their various wounds and rested. In all, two were dead, Didly and Twil. Another rebel was seriously wounded but mobile. Brill thought that morale would bottom out soon once the men got over the relief of being alive. They needed something to inspire them. Brill feared for Danton and worried about the absence of Salinda and the effect it would have on the rebel leader’s flagging spirits.
Even though the shadows cast by the lanterns were deep, they could tell the stash of wine was gone and that something ripely dead was down there with them. Earl poked around and reported a dead male corpse near the far wall. “Praise the Wing,” Danton whispered under his breath, loud enough for Brill to hear.
The rebel leader turned full circle and took in the ceiling as well. “Was this where he tortured you?” Danton asked in a low voice, taking a lantern off the post and moving in ever-increasing circles. Its illumination was weak but enough to see what remained. “He must have built this after I left.” All that was left of the cache were a few splintered barrels and the indentations in the earth where the others had been stacked. Danton sat on an upended barrel with the lantern in his trembling hand. Despite the dragon wine, he was weak with shock. Losing an eye was no mean thing. At least the wound looked better; already more of the damaged skin had been replaced with new, tender pink flesh.
Brill glanced around the dark room. “No, not here—but somewhere like it. Wing dust! I can’t bear that stink.”
“Doesn’t bother me. I can’t smell much, except my own blood.”
“Stinks all right,” said one of the men shuffling around behind them.
Danton stood shakily and took a few steps, slowly treading toward the only door to the room with the lantern held high. Before he reached it, his cry of anguish brought the rest of them to his side. He knelt there in the dirt clutching some dirty fabric that Brill quickly recognized as Salinda’s dress. A fresh wave of sickly stench wafted in Brill’s direction, more potent than the general stink of the place. He stepped around Danton and into the pool of darkness behind the light cast from the trapdoor. In the gloom he could make out the large, decaying body. Ange!
Revulsion overcame him, then the memories stabbed through his mind as deadly as the nails from the booby trap. Ange, that foul, depraved rapist. A moment of red pain shrouded him. He didn’t know that he had kicked the corpse viciously and repeatedly until Danton’s voice roused him. Rich, reeking odor snaked up and around the corpse. Brill backed away, grinding his boots in the soil to remove the decaying fluids that had spilled onto him. “I’m sorry,” he said sheepishly, when he saw how the men gaped at him. “He was a real bastard.”
Earl nodded, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder. The rest of the men looked away, drawn to their leader’s movements.
“Through here,” Danton called. He opened the door and ducked through into the next room, taking the lantern with him. Brill had to follow the faint flicker of shadows to see what Danton had found.
Inside the familiar room were the torture tools. The expression on Danton’s face clearly spelled out his horror. That Salinda had suffered was evident, but her body was nowhere to be found. Danton fingered the witch brand. “Salinda,” he whispered audibly and then flung it at the wall, where it impacted with a dull thud. Brill shook his head. At least the Inspector hadn’t branded him. He shuddered at the thought of what the Inspector had done to Salinda.
More destroyed wine casks littered the space. Danton ordered his men to salvage what they could of the wine remaining in the few broken casks and make ready to leave. Luckily the water bladders they had brought were empty or near empty so they could be used to carry the wine. But the loss of the cache was a worry. It was clear to all of them that the Inspector and Salinda and the wine were gone. If the Inspector had allied himself with the Infra-pact rebels then he now had the largest store of dragon wine on the continent, and possibly in the world. If they had managed to escape on Plu, then Salinda was in grave danger. Either way, it was clear that the rebels had the wine. That made them dangerous and a powerful enemy. The fate of all rested on that wine.
“Danton,” Brill called softly.
“What is it?” Danton was tense and it was clear that his strength was fading. Brill couldn’t understand how he was holding himself together. On the other hand he understood the call of leadership—Danton was strong because he had to be.
Brill drew close to Danton and whispered, “Maybe we should rest here for a while.”
Danton’s mouth tightened with refusal until he looked at his men, seeing the wounded and the weak alike. The cellar was as good a place to rest as any if they shut the door between them and the rotting body. Brill knew it and Danton knew it, too. “You’re damn right, kid. Everyone, bathe your wounds in the wine, it has healing powers. But use it frugally. We may have further need of it.”
Brill nodded, agreeing, even though the room they were in brought back to him the torture he’d endured. Danton found a comfortable place to rest while Brill found a discarded goblet and dipped it into one of the breached casks. He tasted the wine first, then dribbled it over his hands.
“It smarts something terrible, doesn’t it?” Danton said.
Just then a high-pitched shriek startled them as one of the men treated his wound. The rest looked on nervously, glancing at the wine with trepidation. Danton smiled and relaxed somewhat.
“Yes,” Brill replied. He lifted the goblet. “And you, you look uncomfortable. You have all those nail holes on your back and … your …”
“I’m not wasting it on my arse. Give it here. It’s been a long time since I’ve tasted pure dragon wine.”
“Yes, but after you’ve taken a drink I think we should at least put some in your eye again and then bandage it up.”
Danton’s shoulders sagged. “As much as I hate the thought of it, you’re right. Maybe I’ll have more than one or two sips of that delectable wine.”
“Why not?” Brill replied with a smile as he handed over a goblet full to the brim.
After Brill had treated Danton’s eye, he managed to dribble more wine into the man’s other wounds despite his objections. He had waited until Danton had turned on his side to try to sleep. Danton wasn’t happy about it, but as he fainted soon after, he couldn’t give voice to his complaints. Brill hunkered down himself to rest without worrying about immediate retribution.
*
Brill dreamed, fractured images of home and torture and Salinda’s smile. The sound of heavy rain, a good downpour, woke him. No; the noise was more like thunder. Dust and dirt billowed through the partially opened doorway. Light flashed and a dull roar above his head woke the others.
Danton still slept. Brill knelt down and shook him gently. “Danton. Trouble. Dragon, I think.”
Danton woke, weak but alert. He scanned the room and sat up. “The bodies? We left them up there in our haste. Bad move.”
The memory of Ange’s stink surfaced. “Not only that. There’s a body down here with us, ripe and reeking. Do you think they’ll dig for it?”
“Might. Don’t know much about dragon habits.” The rebel leader stood and nodded to his men. A clump of roof dislodged and fell with a plop. “Check the rear. There must be another way out.”
“How can you be sure?” Brill asked.
“I’m not, but it’s worth a try. If I were the Inspector, I would have built an emergency exit.”
“Right.”
The dragon above them sounded frantic as it groaned and delved. Soon the roof would collapse, bringing the beast down on top of them. Danton led them to the back of the room, and ran his hands along the wall. It didn’t take him long to find the tunnel entrance. One by one they squeezed into it. Brill brought up the rear with the sound of the dragon’s fury close behind him. His fear of the dark enclosed space was second only to his fear of the enraged beast. Their progress was slow. Many times Brill lay there unmoving, not knowing what was happening ahead of him. He coughed dirt from his lungs and then crawled slowly when the man ahead of him moved. It seemed like hours, suffocating, fear-inducing hours, before hands pulled at him from above, scooping dirt from his back and then his face.
Danton was there and reached for him. “Hurry, we must hide. More dragons approach.”
“Into the village.”
As they hid among the burned-out ruins, Brill surveyed the charcoaled spines of buildings slumped together, licked by a tongue of white mist. When the dragons had come and gone, they followed the tracks in the muddy road. It was dead quiet until the rain pecked tiny holes into the silence.
Dirt-brown water pooled in the ruts and gouges left by the carts and harpoon trolleys used by the Infra-pact rebels. Water splashed and mud sucked at their boots as they ran as fast as they could along the easily recognizable path. The thieves either hadn’t cared whether anyone discovered they had stolen the wine or had been indifferent to pursuit.
After about an hour, the road ended suddenly. Instead, geothermal areas dotted the marsh-like landscape surrounding them. A smattering of shrubs and withered trees, along with mounds of grass-covered earth resembling a severe outbreak of hives, masked the dangers lurking beneath the soil. Behind rose the ridge where the dragon hatcheries were, culminating in a peak of russet-colored rock, which effectively hemmed them in.
Shifting his gaze to the land in front of him, Brill saw rising steam and heard the sound of bubbling mud and the vicious hiss of boiling water. There was a road hidden there, known only to those with a map, he reminded himself. But now, clear as day before them was the path the Infra-pact rebels had ground into the earth with their carts, showing them the way.
Brill nodded. “What’s the word, Danton?”
“We follow this trail until we find Salinda.”