Off in another woods, many miles from Cheshire, past rivers and borders, hills and towns, another meeting was taking place. Save for the stark presence of the Ashens, with their terrible eyes and fierce growls, these woods might have been the very same. The trees were just as tall and dark, the animals just as numerous and noisy, and the men inside just as quiet.
The woods were thick enough, and the night dark enough, to have a small fire for a short while, set between four logs as it was. Two men, one hefty, one lean, sat before it. The lean one’s eyes stared into the firelight, searching for its meaning, while the hefty one sharpened his sword with a nearby stone.
The others, for the most part, laid sleeping, their beds of leaves rumpling as they tossed and turned in the night. It was never a comforting place: the trees the only barricade against attack, their ears the only warning. Night watchmen perched in tree towers, but truly they could spot little beyond their own area, the rest sheathed in trees and blackness. Miglene himself would wake every few hours out of habit, climb to the top and have himself a look. Usually he found only darkness, but if ever he suspected anything more, the entire troop was awakened and quickly would set out for new land.
Tonight, though, things had been quiet. Perhaps the Dark Duke was waiting for the light of morn to seek them out, or perhaps his men surrounded the woods this very moment. Either way, sleep was about a thousand miles from Miglene’s mind. He had joined Ezra by the fire, who, for such a large man, seemed to take rather little sleep. Ezra held a thick six-foot stick, leaning it against his broad right shoulder. For a while neither spoke, the fire doing the only talking.
“You all right, there, John?” the larger man said at last. “Your eyes are wanderin’ again.”
John nodded.
“It seems we had a mighty good victory today,” he said. “You should be happy.”
The lean figure stood up straight, his eyes still set on the fire.
“We need to do more,” he said. “This fight will never end.”
“Ah, yes,” said Ezra, “I suppose not. But then again, I wasn’t expectin’ t’be ordained Duke ’a Theo anyway.”
“I’m serious, Ezra. It’s gone on too long. Now we know that the Dark Duke has invaded Monastero. What’s next?”
“Probably Dermer.”
“Probably. And if the Dark Duke captures Dermer, he might as well take the world. Farv, too, then, would be untouchable.”
They were silent for a moment, then Ezra spoke:
“Do ya think it’s true what we hear about this Taylor James?”
Miglene sighed.
“Possibly. But what good does it do? He’s probably dead by now if he exists, and even if he’s not, what good is he? The Dark Duke’s army is too powerful. Farv is too good a general.”
“Ah, so we’re back to Farv again, are we?”
“Farv is the key. The Dark Duke needs him. Who else could match The Dark Duke’s viciousness?”
“So what are you sayin’ then?”
John paced up and down, then stopped before the fire once again.
“The Dark Duke is practically impenetrable. He is hard to locate and goes nowhere without a large army to protect him. But Farv is different,” he noted. “Farv is cockier, less careful. Farv is easier to get to, especially under the right circumstances. His death would bring great trouble to the Dark Duke.”
“And…” Ezra added, noting what Miglene was leaving out.
“That too,” John admitted after a moment’s reflection. “That too.”
“Then what do you propose?”
Miglene sat back down beside him.
“Give me the map,” he said.
Chapter 23
Cheshire Woods