Rell turned away from the sight. There was much he'd hoped to ask of the wise man. Now he would be denied that opportunity. That had always been his people's curse; failing to ask the right questions in time. Now there was only one opportunity left to him, and he had no intention of wasting it.
The cairn they raised above the grave was simple and devoid of decoration, as Ynyr would have wanted it. The old man had a horror of waste when he was alive.
Ergo spoke the words and for a change lived up to his sobriquet, the Magnificent. When he'd finished and the last rock had been piled in place, Colwyn turned his attention to Torquil.
"I did not mean to appear obstinate in this matter. Your concern is justified, of course. Has he died in vain? The Iron Desert is a thousand leagues away."
Torquil was certainly no optimist by nature, but neither was he the kind of man to quietly accept defeat. "We'd better get started. Perhaps we can somehow reach the place."
"No man can cover that distance in a night and a day," said Kegan. "Not the greatest runner on all Krull could do it, and I am not he."
"Nor am I," added Colwyn, "but we are bound to try. Perhaps we can find additional horses along the way."
"Not even a horse could make such a journey,"
Rell stepped out of the brush, spoke quietly: "No normal horse." All eyes turned to him. "But the fire-mares might do it. They do not run in the manner of normal steeds."
"No, and they don't behave like normal steeds either," Torquil snapped. "No man has ever saddled a fire-mare."
"Someone must always be first. I have saddled and ridden them. It can be done, though not for much more than a day. Longer than that and you lose the strength to hold on."
"We would all have to have mounts," Torquil continued to argue. "What you suggest is impossible."
"An impossible task confronts us; Rell proposes an impossible solution. I see no conflict there." Colwyn turned to the cyclops. "I have heard stories that speak of such a herd living to the south of here, near the place where the great plain meets the foothills."
Rell nodded. "Your storytellers speak truth. There is time, if we move quickly and prepare."
"Enough debate, then. Titch and Ergo will remain here with Merith."
Ergo stepped forward. "They most certainly will not, I have traveled a long way with you, Colwyn of Eirig, or Turold, or wherever you choose. Perhaps I haven't always lived up to the claims I've made for myself, and I am no seer when it comes to practicing the arcane arts, but I know a few things. That makes me valuable to a party of thickheads like this one." For once no one took him to task.
"You once said that I had courage. It hasn't deserted me." He looked around with an amazed expression on his homely face. "Am I really saying all this? By Krull, the man offers a chance to back out with honor and I'm actually arguing to go with him!" Laughter burst from the assembled thieves.
But when Ergo turned to face Colwyn again, his tone had grown serious. "It is not your decision to make, Colwyn. I've earned the right to go on with you to the end."
"The end may be death."
Ergo shrugged. "So be it. I've lived a short life but a full one." He grinned. "I have experienced the lord of all gooseberry trifles, have consumed the supreme dish. I claim the right to go from dessert to desert."
Colwyn nodded his approval. "How can I resist in the face of such brilliant oratory? I concede."
A small voice sounded from behind Ergo, and Colwyn could see the boy peeping out at him. "I want to come, too."
"No, Titch," Colwyn told him. "You're too young. Ergo may have lived a short life, but you've lived none at all. It would be wrong to throw away what you don't have."
"I haven't been in the way. If the seer was still alive," he hesitated, fighting back tears, "he'd say that I should go so that I could learn. Besides, Ergo told me that you were my family now." He looked around at them. "All of you."
"It's true that the boy has nowhere else to go," Ergo pointed out.
Colwyn considered, reluctantly gave in. "You're right again. All right, Titch, you can come, but stay clear of trouble and mind what you're told."
"I will, sir," the boy said solemnly.
They hurried to break camp. Merith moved to embrace Kegan.
"I know that I can't make you come back to me only," she murmured, "but if you survive, I ask you to consider it. I'd make you as happy as any one woman could."
"Be damned if I don't think you're right about that," he admitted. "No promises, but I'll think on it."
She smiled and kissed him. "That's all I ask."
The journey was not long and the canyon itself a rainbow of breathtaking shapes and colors, but there was no time for sight-seeing.
Colwyn crawled to the edge of the cliff, stopping only when he could see clearly over the edge. They had no time to waste and there must be no mistakes. Everything had to work perfectly on the first attempt, Rell warned him, or they would have to think of another way to cover the distance between the plains and the Iron Desert. The herd would not give them a second chance.
The cyclops bellied up alongside him. Below lay a narrow canyon, its water-worn tributaries twisting and curving in the moonlight, a valley of sedimentary serpents.
"You must know," Rell whispered, "that they can leap any barrier. But they still think and react like any horses. The surprise and shock caused by our trap should make them react without thinking. That is our only ally. If we delay in taking them and give them time to consider their situation, they'll gallop straight out of this canyon despite anything we can do to block them."
"Everyone knows what he has to do," Colwyn replied.
"We'll work as fast as we can, but you're still the key to our success, Rell."
The cyclops nodded. "Don't worry about me."
"I don't plan to. Besides, that boy is probably doing enough worrying for all of us."
Rell looked wistful. "A good lad, little Titch, for a two-eye. I do not frighten him the way I do most human children."
"He hasn't had a usual childhood. When this is concluded I have to see that some is given to him." He would have said more but the cyclops forestalled him, raising a huge hand.
"Listen!"
A faint rumble from the far end of the canyon; a distant pounding coming closer, growing steadily louder. Hoofbeats they were, and yet somehow different, as though the wind itself fled before them. Court storytellers had often regaled the young Colwyn with fanciful, highly embroidered tales of the many wondrous creatures that roamed Krull's open plains, but being a sheltered youth he'd never had the chance to seek any out. Many times he'd sought assurance from his father that the storytellers were telling him the truth and not simply entertaining him with images drawn solely from their imaginations. His father had assured him they were not.
"The fire-mares are real, my son. As real as Turold, as real as you or I or this castle. What a cavalry we would have if they could be broken to the saddle! All our enemies would fall before us. But alas, no man has been able to master them."
Colwyn remembered as he studied the canyon and listened to the thunder rising from within.
"What must be done?" he asked Rell.
"The leader is the key. Once she is taken and saddled, the others will follow. Our trouble rises from the fact that this is no normal herd.
"There is little to distinguish between leader and followers. They are crafty and wise and have been known to play tricks on would-be captors, such as placing their true leader not at the herd's head but in the middle."
"Then how will you know her?"