The War of Odds (20 page)

Nate nodded silently as Chloe got up and walked toward a small fire the Sasquatches had built. Then he sat down by Sara, and put his arm around her hunched shoulders. “Hey, you need to rest,” he murmured.

Sara closed her eyes and leaned into Nate’s embrace. “I’m no good, Nate,” she whispered, as tears fell down her cheeks. “Muriel was wrong… I see it now.”

Nate said, “Ssh, Sara, that’s not true. I saw what you did to William, and how you saved Chloe’s life after the spider attack. The others… well; I think those bats are just horrible… the worst. Even the elves were trying to run from them. I doubt that Muriel could have done any better.”

“Yeah, a lot of help I was to her!” Sara exclaimed, furiously.

Nate tightened his arms and rocked her, as Sara’s frustrated tears dampened the front of his shirt. Then he whispered, “Sara, when we get back home…”

“
If
we get back home…” Sara moaned.

Nate smiled and agreed, “
If
we get back home, will you go out with me?”

Sara stiffened, peering at the young man out of the corner of her eye. “Yeah… I’d like that, Nate.”

He lifted her chin and used the cuff of his shirtsleeve to wipe the tears away from her cheeks.
 
Then, gazing deeply into her eyes, he lowered his lips to hers. The kiss was as sweet as a spring morning, and sensuous with the promise of summer’s heat.

Sara’s senses swirled and sang with longing. Nate’s lips were as soft as velvet and rough, too, from the whiskers that grew on his cheeks and chin. He smelled slightly of sweat, wood smoke and grass, but mostly of good, clean boy. Their kiss deepened with passion, and then they heard a throaty cough.

Sara and Nate jumped, and William laughed. “Ah… young love,” he chortled. “I remember the day. But the others want you to come closer to the fire, okay?”

Sara blushed, but Nate jumped to his feet and held a hand out to help her to her feet. He was grinning from ear to ear. “Yeah, Sara,” he said. “You need to get some rest.”

Sara walked with her new boyfriend to where the others huddled around a small fire. Small pieces of meat sizzled over the flames, and the Sasquatches passed some sort of warm, foul smelling tea around. Sara and Chloe wrinkled their noses at the odoriferous brew. The smaller, handsome Sasquatch named, Onio* grinned.

“We understand that the smell of our medicinal tea is unpleasant to humans, but it does help heal wounds and restore vitality. Take a small sip, please, and then sleep for a while. My brothers and I will keep watch.”

Dutifully, the humans sipped the liquid, and then drank water from the skins the elves carried on their belts. They nibbled warm rabbit meat and ate small, wizened apples that William produced from the deep pockets of his long cloak. The whole time, Chloe grinned at Sara like a maniac, causing the young woman to squirm with embarrassment.

Finally, they were all full and warm. Within moments, Sara’s eyes began to droop with fatigue. She lay down on the furs that were spread close to the fire and felt Chloe snuggle up close behind her. She grabbed the girl’s hand, and fell asleep.

She didn’t see how Nate’s eyes followed her every movement or the gentle smile that proclaimed his love for her. He was tired too, and his shoulder still throbbed, but Nate felt energized and knew that once this was all over, he would court Sara properly, and eventually marry her. His eyes closed as he envisioned his future bride and all the things life held in store for them. Then, he too, fell asleep.

Chapter 22

Sara awoke the next morning feeling better than she had since they left Sylvan’s village. Her neck was a little stiff and her right hand ached from clutching her Weirding stick so tightly, but her heart sang with joy and renewed hope. She sat up, blinking in the dim firelight. Onio and his fellow Sasquatches were dozing by the wall, and the elves and Pike, the dwarf, stirred the fires coals to life and sipped hot tea from wooden mugs.

“Good morning, Sara,” Nate whispered. He was sitting up as well, rubbing his eyes and stretching his arms high over his head.

Sara’s heart skipped a beat as she smiled and returned his greeting. When she first met Nate, she thought he was cute, despite the mouth full of metal and the small constellation of pimples that dotted his nose and chin. Mainly, the boy’s warm smile and bright blue eyes won her heart. Now, however, something had changed. His long, glossy brown hair fell in luxuriant waves over strong, sinewy shoulders and any baby fat left on his body had melted away during the rigorous training routine the dwarves set for him. His lips were finely etched and his sky blue eyes gleamed like sapphires between silky, dark brown eyelashes.

Sheesh, he’s gorgeous,
Sara thought and looked down for a moment, afraid suddenly, to meet his eyes. Sara knew she was pretty. Her mother was one of the most beautiful women Sara had ever seen, after all, and her dad was a fine-looking man as well, with blonde hair, just turning gray and sea green eyes. Sara wasn’t sure, though, if she was attractive enough to compete with the other girls when, and if, they made it back home. Her blonde hair wasn’t golden, but kind of an indeterminate wheat color and her eyelashes were abundant, but as pale as her hair.

Oh well,
she shrugged,
this is as good as I get.
She grinned as Nate stood up and wandered off to a darkened corner to relieve himself. His jeans hung low on his hips, showing two dimples high on his buttocks and Sara stared as he scratched himself, yawning. Suddenly, Sara heard Chloe sigh.

“When did Nate get so cute?” She asked mischievously. “I mean, I always thought he was a cutie, but he was a dork for so long, it takes me by surprise, sometimes, when I see him now.”

Chloe saw the look of fear and confusion on her friends face and gave Sara a hug. “Oh, don’t you worry, sweetie. I’m not trying to get my hooks in him now… really! He is head over heels for you- anyone can see that and I, for one, couldn’t be happier.”

Sara smiled and gave Chloe a hug. Tears filled her eyes; she had been so lucky when these two young people showed up in her life, first for their offers of simple friendship and now, as her most staunch and loyal supporters. She squeezed her friend tightly and then they heard Rondel call out, “It’s almost time to go! Be dressed and ready to leave within the next quarter span, please.”

The girls jumped up, and searching the shadows warily, squatted down to relieve themselves. Then they washed, cleaned their teeth and got dressed. Pike moved about the encampment, sprinkling a special powder over the signs of their presence in the tunnels. The powder would obliterate any sign of waste and help disguise their scent from anyone or anything, following in their wake.

Joining the others by the fire, Sara and Chloe ate cold meat and washed it down with tepid tea. They listened to the Sasquatches speak with the two elves and Pike, the dwarf.

“I’m almost sure that this tunnel will take us to the gates of Unseelie,” Pike argued. “It’s the long way around, yes, but do you prefer going back to where the bats lie in wait?” His voice was querulous with fear and aggravation.

Rondel stared at the little red-haired dwarf. “I’m for seeing this journey come to an end. If we travel forward on this uncharted path, what’s to say we will not stumble across another nest of bats… or something worse?”

“But, we are almost there,” Pike cried. “When did the elves become afraid of their own shadows?”

Rowena bristled, and snarled, “Now, listen here, dwarf…”

Onio cleared his throat, politely. “Forgive me, but I have a suggestion…” Glaring, all three debaters stopped shouting and looked up at the Sasquatch. Onio finished his tea and poured the dregs out on the cooling fire.

“For generations, my people have traversed these tunnels. Although we normally don’t go this deep, we have learned a thing or two about some of the creatures that dwell here. You are not to blame for being unaware of the bats fear of open flame… why would you know, after all. We could go back the way we came, and chase those creatures away with our torches. Still…” he grinned at the dwarf, “I agree with Pike, that we should move forward.”

Rondel opened his mouth to argue, but the Sasquatch held his hand up, “Let me finish, please.” Onio stopped smiling and his face darkened. “As I stated last night, things are becoming very bad for the fae… and also for the humans in their realm. Thousands are dying, while we dawdle, arguing over the course we must take.”

Turning around and staring into the murky gloom of the Unseelie tunnels, he added, “I also think that the Unseelie court is no more than half a day’s walk. My brothers and I are strong- if you need assistance, we will be there to help.” The larger, hairier man-beasts growled, brandishing their long clubs and spears in the air.

Rondel and his sister bowed their heads in agreement, while Pike stared up at Onio with admiration and gratitude. As if to make up for his momentary humility, however, Rondel barked, “We leave… now!”

A few minutes later, they moved forward into a new tunnel. As always, the ambient light within the tunnel system glowed green and the shadows were thick. Nate decided to walk right behind the elves and the Sasquatches. He wanted to walk next to Sara, to hold her hand and whisper in her ear, but he already felt the knowing weight of Rondel’s gaze and refused to be reprimanded for acting like a love-struck idiot.

They walked for an hour or two, keeping their progress as silent as possible. They were nervous after the mutant bat attack and did not want to be caught by surprise again. Suddenly, Onio stopped, holding a fist in the air. The group came to a halt, staring into the murk. Sara heart started to pound with dread as a horrible wailing set all the hairs on the back of her neck upright.

Onio did not seem overly worried, however, and after a few seconds, he moved cautiously ahead. Following in the Sasquatches footsteps, the companions realized that the ghastly, moaning howls that echoed eerily through the tunnels, and sounded like a chorus of ghosts and ghouls, was actually the sorrowful weeping of one individual. Walking around a bend, they saw a middle-aged man sitting on a shelf of rock toward the back of a cavern. He was in his late forties or early fifties, and handsome with gray hair and heavy, sensuous features.

He wore a splendid robe of dark green and purple velvet, and a golden crown of ivy leaves sat atop his salt and pepper curls. There was a quiver of arrows on his back, and a splendid sword with a hilt of gem-studded silver rested against the rock where he sat. His long nose was as red as a beet, however, and snot and tears dripped off his bearded chin. He hiccupped noisily and resumed weeping.

Rondel and Rowena stood stock still for a moment, and then they both fell to one knee. “Your Highness!” they exclaimed in unison, bowing low before him.

In answer, he threw back his head, and moaned in despair again. The elves exchanged a glance. His cries were so piercing, Sara felt like clapping her hands over her ears and screaming in sympathy.

Pollo flew up off Hissaphat’s back and landed lightly on Sara’s shoulder. The cat grinned and sat down, licking his fur vigorously. Pike stepped backwards, as well.

“That is Gwyn ap Nudd, Sara,” Pollo whispered in her ear. “He is king of the
Great Hunt!
 
I wonder why he grieves so…” the sprite scratched his ear in consternation.

Hiss yawned and said, “A big drama king, I think. Gwyn is
always
upset over one thing or the other.”

Pollo winced and flew back down to where the cat sat, bathing. “Sssh, Hiss! He’ll hear you and when the hunt resumes, you’ll be the next quarry!”

Hiss rolled his eyes, but stopped talking. Pike started to say something, but grew still when another being hobbled out from behind a crevasse and joined Gwyn on his rock perch. It was an old, old woman. She was so ancient that her hair had turned into moss and her skin was as rough and cracked as the bark of a petrified tree. This time, the dwarf gasped. Falling to both knees, Pike scuttled ahead, touching his forehead to the stone floor.

Even Hissaphat mewled deep in his throat, like a frightened kitten. The humans fell to the ground as well, sensing the great and terrible power within the crone who teetered up to the king of the hunt with a glass of tea in her palsied hand. “Here, here, sweetling, drink up now… you’ll feel better,” she rasped.