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They set off the next morning for Sevria accompanied by Sly and the castle soldiers. The little man had readily agreed to join them, explaining he had been feeling a bit restless anyway, and needed to get out of the valley for a while. After they said their goodbyes, they set off on foot with Snowfeather circling high overhead, his keen eyes on the lookout for any dangers.
Damion was extremely excited to be finally leaving the valley, and Lord Michael had to warn him repeatedly about wandering too far ahead of the group. They slowly made their way out of the valley, then pushed on steadily over the rough countryside. After hiking through the rocky and wooded terrain for most of the day, they decided to pause near the banks of a tiny stream to rest and catch their breaths.
After a quick lunch of bread and cheese, Damion and Snowfeather went exploring, being careful to keep the rest of the party in sight. When they returned a few minutes later, he wore a troubled expression.
“What is it, young one?” Lord Michael asked, noticing the troubled look on his son's face.
Damion scanned the surrounding area uncomfortably. “I don't know. Something doesn't feel right. Something feels... I don't know... wrong.” His eyes continued searching the area.
Lord Michael motioned for everyone to fall silent, sensing his son's discomfort.
Sly rose from where he lounged, his hand on the hilt of his sword. “What is it, Damion?”
Damion took one last look around, then quickly turned to stare at Sly. “Something is not right here. It’s far too quiet, and Snowfeather says there is an evil sent in the air.”
The little man grunted. “Send the bird ahead to scout around for any trouble.”
Snowfeather leapt into the air, and began to circle the area. “I can’t see anything.” He reported to Damion after a few moments. “There are too many trees in the way. I am going to fly a little lower and investigate closer."
About thirty minutes went by without any word from the huge owl, and Damion began to grow increasingly concerned. He was preparing to go in search of his friend, when there came the soft ruffling of feathers from above as Snowfeather glided gracefully into view. The snowy white owl landed gently on his outstretched arm, looking quite agitated.
“There is a large group of creatures about three hundred yards from here,” He reported silently. “and there is a gathering of over a hundred more camped out along this very same stream less than a mile from here! They are all of over the area!”
Damion quickly relayed the news to the others.
“What do the creatures look like?” Sly asked, his eyes scanning the surrounding area for any signs of movement.
“Snowfeather says there are two different kinds of creatures gathered together. Some are scaled, with horned heads and long tails, the others are smaller, with greasy green skin and jutting teeth."
“Dragonspawn and goblins.” Sly grunted, looking worried. He shook his head, his expression confused. “I don’t understand. Dragonspawn and goblins are mortal enemies. They hate one another almost as much as they hate humans and elves. They would never join together.”
“There was something else.” Snowfeather chirped, stretching his wings to work out a cramp. “They appeared to be led by a human. He was yelling and giving orders, and they seemed to be quite afraid of him.”
Damion looked to his father, who was staring out at the surrounding terrain intently. “Snowfeather says there is a human with them. He seems to be the leader. They are acting as if they fear him.”
“What?” Lord Michael exclaimed in disbelief. “Is he sure that the human isn’t just being held captive? Those creatures would never follow a human, except to creep up on him and kill him!”
“Snowfeather says the human was barking orders to them, and they were following them without question. They seem to be terrified of him.”
“What does this human look like?” Sly asked, his hand still on the hilt of his sword.
“He is short and thin, with long white hair,” Snowfeather chirped. “and a scar on his face that travels from his right temple to the bottom of the left side of his jaw. He is wearing a grubby peasant's smock that looks as though it has never been cleaned, and he smelled abominable. The stench that wafted from him was enough to make my eyes water!"
Damion relayed this to Sly.
“What?” Sly burst out, the color draining from his face. He launched into a series of curses, then drew his sword, obviously intending on going off in search of the human.
“What is it?” Damion asked, surprised by his friend's behavior. “Do you know this man?”
Sly stopped, still cursing vehemently, then turned back to look at Damion and nodded. “His name is Kaviel. He is a mercenary, a common thug. He is scum.” His face was like a thundercloud. “I’ve been hoping to run into him again for a long time now. We have several old scores to settle with one another.”
“How is it that you know this man?” Lord Michael asked with a frown. “And why would he be accompanied by those creatures?”
The little man was silent for several moments. “We crossed paths many years ago.” He explained with a voice that trembled with anger. “I found him looting an isolated farmstead about twenty years ago. He had already killed the man and woman that had lived there, and was busy torturing a helpless child when I found him. He managed to get away, but not before I'm marked him across the face. It has been an ambition of mine to finish the job if I ever get the opportunity.”
“If he’s just a common thug, why is he traveling with those creatures?”
Sly shook his head. “I haven’t a clue. He’s a notorious coward. I don’t see how he could be leading a group of goblins and dragonspawn.” He cursed again. “I would love to know what he’s up to!”
“Well, now is not the time to find out.” Lord Michael told him in a firm tone. “We are in a rather precarious position right now. There are goblins and dragonspawn crawling all over the area. We need a plan.”
The little man shook away his anger, realizing Lord Michael was right. “If we move quickly, we should probably be able to avoid them. There is enough cover for us to remain hidden, but we will need to be very careful. If we run into any trouble, we will have to find somewhere that is defensible, and try to fight them off.”
Damion suddenly grinned a large mischievous grin. “I think I may have a better idea.” Before anyone could object, he shifted into the form of a panther and silently disappeared into the underbrush.
The soldiers from the castle stared stupidly at the spot where Damion had just stood, their eyes wide with disbelief.
Lord Michael cursed and started to follow, but Sly held him back. “Don’t try to follow. You would never be able to catch him. Don't worry. He knows what he is doing.”
“We can’t just sit here and wait!” Lord Michael protested, his voice filled with worry.
“We haven’t any other choice. He’ll be back soon, and then we can continue on our way.” The little man glanced at the stunned soldiers. “You men stay alert!”
The discipline of the hardened soldiers kicked back in, and they quickly went back on guard. They took up posts around the campsite, on the alert for any sign of attack, though they were still quite pale from the shock of witnessing Damion vanish, only to be replaced by a huge panther.
Lord Michael and Sly exchanged glances, but remained silent. There really wasn’t anything they could do except wait, and hope that Damion would return soon.