Chapter 17 - Part 3

They were semi-transparent, drifting things of mist with the wind at their backs. They were far higher up in the air than they had been on the pegasi, but since their bodies were clouds, the cold did not affect them.

Feather clicked his barely substantial beak as he lay nestled in the reed cocoon against Delegado’s chest. The hawk did not like the ride, especially the past seven or so hours of it after the sun had gone down. Delegado could not blame him. Even with darkvision he could barely make out the misty forms of Orphan and Thomas as they flew on either side of him, with the druid ahead. Their confused horses rode under them.

The druid had not bothered introducing himself, but he was obviously Ashbound. He told them he hated their potions and scrolls, and that the warforged was tainted, and that he was only doing this because Oalian had commanded him too. He was needed at the front to kill filthy Aundairian wizards, and good men were dying because he was not there. They hadn’t even bothered explaining to him what this was about. He had ordered them in close, cast the spell, and they turned into misty forms of themselves. He had repeated the spell to affect their horses, and then all of them had shot up into the air. The first few minutes had been exhilarating. The last twelve and a-half hours had been sheer boredom.

Delegado felt them tilt, and they rushed downwards. He realized that they had already past most of the peaks of the Icehorn Mountains, but that they would be landing halfway down the range. Soon he saw more of the ridge, and finally they landed on the edge of a steep drop, where a small cave, sheltering them from the wind, could be found.

The horse’s whinnied as they turned substantial again, and Feather screeched. Thomas and his eyestalk twitched, whereas Orphan merely studied his body.

“The trail is that way, don’t try it until morning,” the druid said, a soft ball of light hovering on his palm. “The cave is big enough for your horses.” He cast a spell and threw fire into the cave, where it impacted on some wood that had been stored. “Druids sometimes come here, so tidy up after you leave if you aren’t dead. Fiends and natural predators roam this place, and the undead shades of those who came before you abound as well. You are about fifty-five miles from a small place called Festering Holt, if you dare go there.” Without a further word he shifted himself and became a falcon, and launched himself into the sky.

“I think he liked us,” Thomas said sarcastically, nudging his horse into the cave. The others followed.

Delegado got to work making supper, because he, Thomas, and the hawk were famished. Feather flew to a niche in the ceiling, no doubt one sculpted out by some long-ago druid sneak in the Wastes to accommodate his animal companion, and looked down on them imperiously. Thomas cast a spell from a scroll at the cave entrance that made a shimmering wall of black.

“That will last only an hour,” Thomas said. “I’ll cast a spell that makes an alarm near the entrance before Delegado and I go to sleep. Ah, if that’s all right with you.”

“Me being in charge means that I make the decision to trust you to make your own judgements about matters like that,” Orphan said, setting up the horses’ feed bags. “I’m thinking the Demon Wastes is not a place to hoard resources. What do you think Delegado?”

“You’re right,” the half-orc said, setting the eggs and meat in the pan. “Well, except for food and water, which we have plenty of, but should still ration. Hard to find what there is to eat and drink here. But generally speaking, use all of our potions, oils, and consumable weapons when we think there is a need. We won’t get a chance to be wrong. If we’re dead they don’t help us.” For a moment Delegado thought he was saying too much, but the others did not object.

“Right,” Thomas said. He reshuffled his scrolls before sitting down to eat.

The half-daelkyr ate with Delegado, and then cast his scroll of the alarm spell before pulling out a bedroll. Delegado stayed up to make sure Feather ate, and then he pulled his own bedroll out.

“Do you think we have a chance?” Orphan asked him suddenly.

Delegado sighed, then decided to be truthful. “Even if we manage to find the place by some miracle, nobody leaves Ashtakala alive,” he said.

With that Delegado went to sleep, leaving Orphan behind to watch the fire embers die down.