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They set out on foot, leading their horses over the rough ground, making slow progress, but better slow-going than have the horses stumble and come back up with a break or a sprain.
It was a cold, silent walk. Ragnar was kept fully awake. His ribs sent out sharp bursts of pain, each jarring him like a splash of icy water and dispelling any touch of sleep which came over him.
Clouds had rolled in after the fog had lifted and the night was black as pitch. Ragnar had to keep a hand against the side of Emiel's horse to avoid losing his way and his companions.
* * *
Morning came as a surprise.
Ragnar had lost all track of time, stumbling along over unseen ground, unable to see anything more than a few paces away except as a dark blurred outline moving in the night. Slowly the dark began to pale then separated into shades of black on black. Then there was a bluish outline dividing objects, one from another.
Sometime during the night they had passed over a roadway, old and overgrown, but not yet swallowed by the encroaching fields. Emiel had turned them, moving along toward the north-west. Just before dawn, they veered off onto a track no wider than a deer run. As the sun appeared, its light revealed a narrow valley before them. To their right the land rose, ahead the path lead them through a sparse patch of woods and down toward the valley floor.
A small stream flowed beside the path. It had eaten a deep bed into the Oerth over the years, revealing boulders the size of a dragon's head in its midst. The water barely rose to a man's ankle, till the spring floods came at least, but it had followed this course a long, long time. The banks were the height of a tall man and wider apart than two men, head to feet. Trees grew along its bank opposite the path, the rise of the land there was gentle and wide enough for the roots to spread, deep and secure.
Alongside the path, the land sloped upward at a steep angle, covered in a thick scrub. The brambles reached out and caught at Ragnar's cloak and boots as he rode by.
The three riders made good time, keeping at a quick but unhurried pace. The pathway, while narrow, ran true and the ground even.
* * *
At the heart of the valley they came to a sudden halt.
Emiel dismounted and signaled for the others to do so as well. In the stream, next to the path, there was a wide flat boulder. It took up about half the width of the stream, water foaming and rushing around its edges. Looking about him slowly, Emiel leapt from the bank to the top of the rock. He stood there for several moments, then turned in a complete circle spreading out his arms and holding them up at shoulder height. When he was once again facing the others he dropped his arms with a disgusted shrug and jumped back over to the path.
"Where is the guard?" Ted demanded abruptly.
Emiel looked around then back at Ted and Ragnar. "Something is wrong. We should have been hailed. Someone should be watching us."
Ragnar glanced around himself. "I sense nothing. Look, the horses are calm, they sense nothing as well."
"Damn the horses." Ted was agitated, he shifted from one foot to the other nervously and glanced up and down the valley hoping to catch sight of some elusive clue that would answer his fears. "First the house, now this.... What is going on?" he said with an unpleasant whine.
Emiel reached over and grabbed him suddenly by the shoulders. He gave Ted a shake, almost lifting him from his feet, then regained his own composure. "We will find out. Now get hold of yourself."
Ted said nothing for a moment then steadied himself. "Yes...Sorry about that. It's just that I expected to be coming home, even just to a hideout or some basement...Things are different."
"Yes." said Emiel "We should have expected that all this business with Sterich and Hochoch would effect things. Stupid of me to think that everything would be the same. We've been gone too long this last time away."
"I keep asking, it's your land," Ragnar said, "where to now?"
* * *
(To Be Continued)