THE NINTH GIFT

From over Cale’s shoulder came Rockfast’s voice. “They did not leave after all. They planned an ambush.” “Wouldn’t a had to share their meal with th’pack that way,” said Paffy. “Glad it missed me,” said a weak-kneed Cale, who turned away from the grisly sight. “Misjudged the wind, I suppose. The rocks sure did a job on it.” “No old rock did that kinda damage,” said Paffy. “And the creature did not truly miss you, Master Cale,” Rockfast said. They moved close together so that they could talk without shouting. Cale frowned. What did Rockfast’s words mean? The grout had most certainly and most obviously missed him. The thing had to outweigh him by at least fifty pounds and possessed claws and teeth that looked horribly dangerous, even in death. It had probably misjudged the strength of the wind up here. That had to be it, thought Cale. Caught a gust halfway through its leap. About to speak, to ask what Rockfast meant by his comment, Barcelona distracted him by asking, “Where is the other one?” “Has to be some distance away by now,” said Cripps. “Any creature with a speck of intelligence would not dare press the attack after seeing what befell its companion.” “What happened to this one?” asked Cale. “I mean if the rocks didn’t kill it?” “It was dead before it hit the rocks, Master Cale,” said Rockfast. “Didn’t realize it wuz you,” added Paffy. “What?” “You still don’t understand, do you?” Cripps said, in a voice so quiet that Cale could barely hear him over the background noise. “In any case, we have no time to discuss it now. The other grout is no doubt seeking its companions. And they can move a great deal faster than we can.” Cale opened his mouth to speak. Then closed it again. A cold feeling came over him and he suddenly tingled from the top of his head down to the tips of his toes. Whatever were these good people talking about? The biggest and meanest animal he’d ever seen had nearly killed him and everyone around him talked gibberish while he tried making sense of what just happened. He forced tears away as once more he wished he were back in his room in Uncle Fred and Aunt Ellen’s house. That house may have been no castle, in no sense a great place to live, but it sure beat this increasingly horrible nightmare. Or was it a dream? Had he been even unhappier about living without his father and mother than he’d realized, and had his mind just surrendered its grip on reality? Might he be somewhere in a mental institution imagining all of this? He slid his sword back into its scabbard. They were all watching him. He could feel their eyes. He looked up to meet them. “Master Cale,” said Rockfast loudly, “are you ready to go on?” Cale nodded. “Do I have another choice?” He slid his face shield up and waited for Rockfast to take the lead. He had no desire to talk to any of them right now, although he felt as though he ought to apologize to Rockfast for his negative thoughts about him. He should be grateful to the brave warrior, and to all of them, he supposed, but he did not understand any of this. Why should that grout pick him to attack? Or didn’t it pick him at all? Maybe he had played the fool, stepping out of the rocky shelter and into the ambush set up by a hungry animal. But hadn’t the grouts seemed interested in him from the moment they first locked eyes? Rockfast moved briskly down the path. Cripps took up a position behind the warrior and Cale quickly stepped into the next spot in line. He glanced over his shoulder to see Barcelona directly behind and Paffy bringing up the rear. Despite his confused and nearly hopeless mood, Cale found that walking felt good. He desperately needed distraction, had to do something with the nervous energy he’d worked up, and his legs felt springier than they had only a few moments ago. The path led downward, at times gently, at other times so steeply that they had to half-slide, half-run, from one boulder to the next. As they descended, Cale felt the air getting warmer. That might have been partly because of the effort needed to keep his balance. The wind did not seem as gusty and therefore not as bothersome because there was less dust and sand blowing around. One thing for certain, the light was taking on a different hue, from a dusty golden haze to a clearer and more bluish tinge. And their path had become much wider and free of obstacles save a few scattered rocks and hillocks of golden earth. It occurred to Cale to wonder how this path came to be here and, more importantly, who or what used it…besides grouts. What sort of creature would want to share a path with grouts? Every time he stopped at a rock for support, he glanced around at the surrounding cliffs of stone. And he saw his companions all doing the same thing...searching for black, four-footed creatures hiding behind the rocks. He saw none and evidently no one else did either. They moved along. No one spoke; no need to talk. At last, after it seemed they’d descended at least two miles, Rockfast stopped at a fork in the path. Looming in front of them a huge pinnacle of gray-blue stone rose up out of sight. To its left, the path spiraled on down along the side of the mountain for at least a few hundred yards. Where it led after that was anybody’s guess, for it disappeared behind an outcropping of rock. That route, following the natural curve of the mountain, seemed the logical one, the most obvious continuation of the path they were on. The path to the right appeared rougher and narrower. It was no more than fifty yards long. Then, as though swallowed with one bite, it disappeared into a black slit in the face of the mountain.