Sivingdon was impatient. Three days had passed now, and it could be another day or two before he heard back from Efenktor. Rain had been pouring down incessantly for the last several days, and although Efenktor was a phenomenal tracker, he was growing doubtful even Efenktor would be able to follow the tracks. When the tracks had first been discovered, even he could see them, although not without some difficulty. He had gained some tracking experience in the lower ranks of the Vechengschaft, and although his tracking skills were not masterful, they were respectable. At this point, he couldn’t see any tracks at all, but was still holding out hope Efenktor or some of his other expert trackers might, but time was running out quickly.
“Kasani!” he yelled, cursing angrily at the long delay in action. He was tempted to simply send Singdor or one of his other trackers across the border, even though he would probably be court-martialed. Then, just as his anger and frustration were nearing their boiling point, he heard horses. They were far off, but he could hear the unmistakable sound of hooves striking the ground like the low roll of a drum.
His hopes soared.
(perhaps it’s Efenktor hightailing it back to give me permission from King Duchenwald and the senate to cross the border and find out where these damn tracks lead!)
He grabbed a telescope and looked.
Nothing.
He waited a few minutes, and when he looked through it again, he could see the blurry outlines of approaching horsemen. As he continued watching, these blurry figures started to become sharper, and, about two minutes later they grew faces. There were twelve men, and he recognized all of them.
“Sifindel, Lixen, and ten of the royal bodyguards—what do they want?!” he asked himself out loud.
He wasn’t sure what was going on, but he didn’t like it. Where was Efenktor? He had sent Efenktor to inquire on this matter and report back. He noticed they were all riding spider horses.
(perhaps they simply traveled faster than him and he’ll be arriving shortly after)
He got on his horse and rode out to meet them.
“Greetings, Lixen and Sifindel; I assume you have news for me.”
“Greetings, General Sivingdon,” Lixen responded, bowing. “We do indeed.”
He handed General Sivingdon a scroll with the king’s seal on it. Sivingdon read the message.
Fury enveloped him.
“This is an outrage!” he said, purple veins emerging from his neck like large vines on a tree.
“Doesn’t the king realize that within one day these tracks will not be traceable?! It’ll take you days to even reach the City of Sodorf, and there could be weeks of diplomatic wrangling before they even consider giving you permission! Then, there will be no tracks to follow, and our country will be at the mercy of the Sodorfians’ charity!” he exclaimed bitterly.
“General Sivingdon,” Sifindel responded, “you’re shouting at the messengers, not the decision makers. Lixen and I are merely here to do as told; you know as well as I do it’s the senate and king who make decisions. I suggest you express your unhappiness to them if you disagree with them.”
Sivingdon realized Sifindel was right, but it didn’t console him.
“What shall I do then with my men?!” he asked.
“King Duchenwald wishes for you and your men to stay at the border in case any invaders attempt to cross, or in case the Sodorfians give you and some of your trackers permission to cross.”
“Very well,” he said dejectedly. “Very well.”
Lixen, Sifindel, and the ten bodyguards bowed and then said farewell as they set off towards the border and to the City of Sodorf.