Chapter 8: Gwinny, Fighting Goblin-Wench

Blinking her eyes against the sudden light, Gwinny followed close behind Bartan as he picked his way across the expanse of loose shale. She scrabbled along by bracing herself with her shield arm, leaning in against the slope as her feet threatened to slide out from under her. Slabs of rock skipped and bounced a few paces down the hillside before disappearing into the void below. Faint sounds of their fall drifted up to her out of the depths, and she was glad to reach the solid ground beyond. The trail from this point on was narrow and rough, but she was grateful for unmoving rock under her boots. She turned to assist Darrick, and he must have seen something of her terror of heights.

"It's all right," he said, his voice low enough that none could hear, and she smiled tremulously back at him.

The mountain side faced almost due south. The evening sun sent a few beams slanting in across a broad valley. The rain had stopped while they were in the caverns, but the clouds were still gray, heavy looking, with only an occasional break showing traces of blue.

"Here's a wide spot," Bartan called back, sounding tired. "We'd better stop for the night."

"Yeah, nothing's going to sneak up on us here," Elm agreed. "Unless it's got wings. But I suppose we'll have to stand our watches, anyhow."

"That's right," Darrick agreed, and Bartan nodded. "Now that we're out where we can see again, we'd better check on just how much journey-cake we have left."

Gwinny's stomach growled, far from pacified by the scant mouthfuls of food she'd allowed it this day. The journey-cake made a pitifully small pile on the bare rock, as Bartan divided it out equally among them.

"Two, maybe three days," she told herself. "Then we go hungry."

Well, she'd just have to be satisfied with what she had. She curled up in her blankets, huddling close to Bartan for warmth, while Darrick took the first watch. He would wake her when the stars had turned a fourth of their way across the sky. When her turn was done she would rouse Elm, and Tarr would have the last watch. She smiled, drifting on the fringes of sleep. These people trusted her, sharing their food, their wealth, and, best of all, their weapons. Bartan was big, and strong, a mighty fighter. Yet he smiled at her, talked to her, treated her like a woman... She slept.

"Our food is almost gone," Darrick repeated, the next morning. "We have little water in our flasks, though that should be no great problem. Surely, the rains are not over, though the sky looks clear enough today. We must decide what we are to do, which way we should go. This ledge leads us away from the way we came, not back toward Shurrud and the trails we know. Tarr, you've been keeping a map. Where are we?"

"A very good question," she answered, smiling, teeth glinting white in the morning sunlight. "You're right, Shurrud should lie the other way on this trail. We need to go back, past the slide area where we came out."

"No!" Gwinny protested. "We can't... " She bit her lower lip, stifling the rest of what she was about to say, but Bartan only smiled down at her. She still wasn't used to the freedom they had to argue with their leader. Back with the Goblin-band, her words could well have brought her a beating, if not worse.

"We can only try," Darrick answered her. "It might look better in full daylight."

"No problem. We can use ropes," Elm volunteered. "Tie ourselves together, in case someone slips."

"We should have done that yesterday," Bartan agreed. "Dumb of us, not to."

The loose rock had slid down from higher on the mountain's flank, blocking the ledge for a hundred paces or more. She could see faint traces of their passage as Elm jauntily led the way. She froze as a rock moved beneath her foot, then crawled on past the place where debris had already slid in to cover the entrance to the caves.

"All right," Elm called. "I'm on solid rock, here." He pulled in the slack of the rope as she approached, the others following until all were safe.

Bartan led them on along the ledge. Ahead of them, the trail went out of sight as the mountain bent inward.

"Well, there's your trail." Bartan halted, and she pressed forward to see past him.

"We not able to fly. How do we get there?" Some time in the past, a massive plate of stone had flaked away from the side of the mountain, leaving a great gouge. Far below, a glint of silver-blue where the river backed up. A hundred paces or more from where they stood, she could see where the trail led away once more, a narrow ledge carved into the solid rock.

"It would take wings, all right," Darrick agreed. "Wings, or a bridge. Our ropes won't reach that far, even if Elm could make it across."

"He'd have to be crazy, to even try it," Bartan answered, and Gwinny could tell by Elm's face that he felt the same way. "So, it's back the way we came. This is a trail, so it must lead somewhere."

"Why?" Gwinny thought, but didn't say anything. The others were probably already thinking it, anyway. She kept quiet as Elm led them back across the slide. The sun was high in the sky by the time they reached their last night's resting place, and they stopped long enough for a few more bites of food and a sip of water before hurrying on. The sun shone down on them, no longer half-blinding her with its rays, and they made good time. The ledge was wide enough, most of the time, for her and Bartan to walk side by side, and he encouraged her to talk, correcting the way she spoke.

"I am talking better?" she asked. "Not so much like Goblin-wench?"

"Not much like a Goblin-wench at all," he teased. "A few more ten-days and you'll sound just like anyone else. Once we reach Pordigran, nobody'll ever suspect that you aren't some village girl come to visit The City."

She smiled back, but the thought of such a huge collection of buildings and people still bothered her. She had seen Shurrud, once. Seen it from outside, when her band had gone there one time to trade. Trade or steal, as chance offered. It had seemed large, more people and buildings than she could count on her two hands, yet now Bartan was telling her about a place of buildings, walls, and streets as far as the eye could reach, and so many people that even the royal tax gatherers, whatever they were, couldn't count them all.

But for now, all that was off in the distant future, and she wouldn't think that far ahead. The sun was warm on her back, near to setting, and they were still on this ledge. To her left was the face of the cliff, almost sheer, with only an occasional patch of lichen to break the monotony of gray stone. To her right, still far below though the ledge had been sloping downward, a bright thread reflected the sky. Patches of green might have been tall trees, but from this height she couldn't be sure. Beyond the river, the land rose once more to form the crest of a mountain ridge, its height matching at least the cliff whose face they traversed.

Gwinny tightened the heavy leather belt that gathered her chain mail. Almost nothing remained of their journey-cake, and her water flask sloshed emptily at her hip.

"We need find..." She paused at Bartan's frown. "We need to find water soon."

"That's right." Bartan banged his own flask with the flat of his hand, making a hollow sound. "This ledge is leading us downward, though. Another day should bring us to the bottom of the canyon, and the river. Where there's water, there should be fresh meat, or at least fish. Now's when we could really use that cache of supplies we left outside the monastery."

"As well wish for the moons... The moon." Darrick's lips quirked in a wry smile. "I wonder what people are thinking. To find one moon in the sky, where there should be two. It could be unsettling, at least."

"More than unsettling," Elm spoke up from behind her. "I lived in the slums of Pordigran, grew up with the fears and superstitions of the poor and ignorant. Believed in them myself, for that matter. I guess I still do, some of them. There'll be unrest, all right, and not just in The City, and the temples will be busy."

"Where there's unrest, there will always be someone to profit from it," Darrick agreed somberly, and Gwinny was aware once again of just how old this Half-Elf really was. "I wonder who it will be, this time."

He left it at that, and Gwinny was glad. So many things to ponder, so many new things to learn. She shivered, though the evening wind was not really chill. It was getting dark, and she was glad when they stopped for the night. This wasn't like the warm, comfortable caves where she'd grown up, and she still wasn't sure that she liked having the bright points of stars glaring down at her as she slept.

The next morning, they carefully ate half of their journey-cake, and drank what little water remained in their flasks. The sun was warm, the sky a clear blue only lightly freckled with patches of cloud. She was glad when they came upon a tiny rivulet, trickling down the side of the mountain and puddling in a hollow of the trail. They drank, filled their flasks, and drank again. The river grew from a shiny thread to a ribbon, slashed by jagged rocks, and crumpled by falls and rapids. The trees grew tall, casting pools of shade on grassy banks. They reached the floor of the canyon while the sky was still light, though the sun had long since hidden its face behind the mountains on the far side of the narrow valley.

The river still flowed high and muddy from the recent rains. She watched, curious, as Elm drew tiny barbless hooks from his pack and attached them to spools of heavy thread. Insects, impaled on the hooks, proved irresistible to hungry varicolored fish that lurked in quiet pools.