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The walls attracted no more notice from Ragnar than the distant stands of trees, or the ruins of houses and barns he'd passed. His eyes sought out movement, or the glint of metal, and the signs of recent traffic on the road. But then the stone walls disappeared and suddenly Ragnar was very interested in where they'd gone.
Two dark scars ran alongside the road where the walls had been. Deep ruts were cut into the verge beside them.
'Several wagons most likely.' thought Ragnar. He could see prints of the broad stub-toed feet of ogres in the fresh dirt, and the marks of orc and goblin boots too, but in greater number.
The fieldstones had been carted away, recently, no more than a day or two before. Down the road, off to the west they went, and Ragnar followed.
***
"Thaddeus, Thaddeus," Emiel shook Ted's shoulders, "Ted, open your eyes."
"Ooohhh..." Ted groaned, but obeyed. "I don't want to look. Am I in one piece?"
"You are. They cut you up, but those orcs have lazy arms." said Emiel. "Once you stopped squirming it must have been too much like work for them. Looks like nothing but gashes."
"You'll have to help me get these arrows out." Ted touched the broken shaft of a goblin's arrow that stuck from his neck.
"First we need to find my arm."
***
The further he traveled on the road the older the wagon tracks along the verge became. The road itself still showed fresh use, wagon wheels and footprints of monsters. 'No horse's hooves.' Ragnar noted. 'Ogres must be pulling the loads.'
Almost a league was behind him since he'd first found the wall removed. Ragnar tried to imagine how many stones had been taken. He piled them up in his mind, but they came crashing down in a countless jumble. 'A lot of stone.' he whistled quietly between his teeth.
Noon had passed and the sun had just begun to wane as Ragnar paused in the middle of the road. A rumble came from his stomach, though it was only a quarterday since breakfast. Absentmindedly he fished a stick of dried meat from a pouch at his belt and gnawed at the leathery flesh. Water he drank from a canteen and after putting it back in his pack and wiping his hands on his trousers he gave a prodigious belch.
Since the ambush that had killed his friends, Ragnar had carried his axe unsheathed, shifting the weapon from hand to hand as he walked. Now he took it in both hands and started out again on the road west at a slow run.
After another league further he slowed to a walk. He'd gotten warm. Back home in the mountains a traveler had to keep moving or freeze, but the lowlands were almost never that cold and never as cold as the mountains could become.
The Geoff mountains were ahead, though still to far away to be seen. The Crystalmists and the Barrier Peaks. Ragnar wanted to see them someday, see how they compared to the Corusks of his home. For now he was between two forests, one dark and forbidding to his north and another to his south, said to be home to aelves who had not fled the coming of the giants. And he was between two rivers, the Realstream behind him with Hochoch on its banks, and the Olvewater somewhere ahead.
'Near.' he thought. 'Somewhere near.'
The land had been growing lower the further west he went. The road had been built up in places so that it declined gradually and the wild fields began to turn to marsh. The scars where walls had been disappeared. No walls had ever marched along this road, no stones ever taken from the mud and bog, dug up by farmers' plows.
Another few miles and the land began to change. Cat-tails like crops of corn stood tall to either side. The road showed not only traffic but was in good repair. Gravel filled in patches where the marsh had eaten into its sides. Stones lined the edges to keep the packed dirt in place. All recent work.
There were twists and turns now. The road followed a line of solid ground through the wet lowlands, no longer straight, but always to the west.
* * *
(To Be Continued)