Codex I-Chapter 3
In Pursuit of the Goblin Raiders
By mid-afternoon they were out of the wastes, trees and shrubs appearing more and more frequently. Rynn was still able to track the goblins easily, especially once the desert sand began to give way to more moist soil. The tracks were several days old, but the goblin force had been big enough to leave a substantial amount of damage to the undergrowth as they advanced.
The sun was just beginning to dip down when Rynn spotted smoke coming from just up ahead. He signaled a stop. “That’s probably their camp,” the ranger said.
Khaska stepped up next to him, then glanced back at Amara. “Could Kirza check it out?” The sorceress nodded as the Maha’i realized who he was speaking to. He very quickly stepped back, looking intently at the ground. Amara smiled as she spoke quietly to the raven, which flapped his wings and flew off.
It was only a few minutes before the familiar returned. It landed on its master’s shoulder and spoke quietly. “Rynn is correct. Goblins camp ahead.”
Rynn looked around, then quickly walked into a small grove of trees. The others followed him as he glanced around, then dropped his back to the ground. “I’m going to sneak up and take a look.”
Orensland also dropped his pack. “I’ll come with you.” He looked around, and nobody else made a move to follow. The rogue shrugged. “Looks like it’s just us, Rynn!” He clapped the ranger on the back, and then motioned for him to go first. Then Kirza flapped and flew out of the grove as well. Apparently the raven was also coming along.
Rynn stepped out of the trees, looking back. “We’ll just go scout it out, be back in a little while.”
The last thing Orensland saw before he turned to follow the ranger was the growing panic in Khaska’s eyes at being left alone with the two women. He smiled as he moved into position behind Rynn.
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Rynn slunk back to where Orensland was hidden behind some bushes. About thirty yards away the beginnings of the goblin camp stood out among several large trees. A small brook ran in between the two of them and the camp. “I think I can get pretty close, and not be seen, but it doesn’t look like anything is going on. I can see the worgs these goblins used to get to the wastes and back, but no sign of this stick or anything else. It just looks like business as usual for them.”
“So, should I stay, or should I go back and report?” asked Orensland.
“I don’t see much reason to stay,” said Rynn. “I can stick around for a few hours and watch them. Go tell the others, I’ll come back a few hours after dark. No fires! Just eat your rations.” The rogue nodded and left, sneaking back the way they came. Rynn was impressed at how silent the elf was able to move, watching him for a moment. Then the ranger got up and moved closer himself, positioning himself away from where it appeared the goblins got their water, but close enough that he was able to see most of their camp.
A large rock pile dominated the middle, and Rynn could see into a cave on one of its sides, but couldn’t see inside, since it was too dark. Still, based on the size of the hill, it probably wasn’t too deep, unless it went underground. But based on the number of goblins he saw entering and leaving it, that seemed unlikely. Probably just a shallow cave. He hunkered down as the sun began to dip towards the horizon, casting long shadows.
He was considering leaving a few hours later. The sun had gone down and one of the Pressian moons hung in the sky, shining a bit of light, making it just that much easier to see. As expected, most of the goblins had gone to sleep. He hadn’t seen anything out of the ordinary, and now wanted to sneak back to the others.
But he decided not to when he heard the beating of hooves. Within moments, the goblin village was alive. And lining up. That was a bit odd. He shifted his weight, getting on the balls of his feet, ready for action. A horseman pulled into the camp, dismounting to stand before the assembled goblins. He was human, and was wearing what appeared to be full plate armor. There was a longsword belted at his waist, and a silver shield attached to the saddlebags.
One of the bigger goblins came forward, pushing through the crowd, which was getting more antsy by the minute. The human pulled a red bag from his saddlebags and held it out to the big goblin. The way the other goblins moved aside for him, Rynn guessed it was the chief. He had emerged from the cave, but Rynn hadn’t seen him before now.
Kirza landed on Rynn’s shoulder. “That’s the goblin that took the stick,” the raven said, quietly. Rynn smiled. He knew that following the worg tracks was the right decision, once the goblin tracks from the bandit camp had joined up with others.
Back in the camp, more drama was unfolding. The big goblin reached for the red sack, but the human jerked it back.
“Did you get it?” he asked, in goblin. The goblin nodded, holding up a short rod, maybe a foot to a foot and a half long. Small runes glowed on its polished black surface. The human reached out a hand, and the chieftain huffed and pulled closer, finally putting the rod in the man’s hand. The man handed over the red bag, and the big goblin quickly reached in, pulled something out and put it in a pipe he had carried. The big goblin lit it with a brand from one of the campfires that was going out, inhaling deeply. He then sat on the ground and handed the pipe to another goblin. One by one, the entire camp smoked the pipe, occasionally refilling it. When they were done, they all were much more lethargic, some sitting, some simply lying down, and others crawling to where they had been sleeping in makeshift lean-tos, or just moping about, walking drunkedly around.
The human hadn’t really even bothered to examine the rod once he had been given it. Instead he had just watched the goblins all get high. Rynn was particularly interested in how docile it made the goblins. There wasn’t fighting among them, as one might expect. It almost seemed . . . orderly. This had obviously happened before. As the goblins milled around in their high state, the human sat back, supporting himself on his horse, watching it all happen. After a few minutes, he stepped forward to the chieftain.
“You’ve done well. And you have been rewarded, you and your tribe. Now, we have one more thing for you to do. Do it, and we’ll bring more of the yellowleaf, as promised.”
“What you want me do?”
“There’s a village a few miles from here, farmers and the like. You know the one I’m talking about?” The goblin nodded. “We don’t want them poking around near our camp too much, as the hunting season starts up. Go attack them. Burn a farm or two down. Make them afraid of you. Afraid of this area. Get them to band together and hole up to defend themselves. Can you do that?”
The big goblin nodded, then stood up. He roared a battle cry and several of the goblins around him stood up. “We attack humans!” he said. Immediately they began grabbing weapons and getting ready. They were riling themselves up, screaming and shouting. The human simply smiled, slipped the rod back into this saddlebags, and then mounted and rode off into the night. The goblins were leaving the camp, in the opposite direction, and there was still plenty of screaming and shouting. Rynn bolted, running as fast as he dared in the dark back to the group. Kirza took off ahead of him, and by the time he arrived the others were aware that something was going on, and were ready for action.
With a quick glance behind to see if he was followed, and it didn’t appear that he had, he breathlessly told them what had transpired.
“We’ve got to stop these goblins before innocent people get hurt,” he finished. He looked at the others as he grabbed his backpack, clearly ready to leave right now and not really waiting for an answer.
Jenika already had her pack on. “We should try to get ahead of them. Warn the farmers and the village before the goblins get there.”
“Then we should leave now,” said Orensland.
Amara said something quickly to her raven, and Kirza flew off back towards the goblin camp. “Kirza will try to follow the man,” she said. “Kill two birds with one stone.”
“As long as the rider doesn’t kill Kirza with a stone,” Khaska said. He smiled.
Amara smiled back. “A joke! From you!” she kidded him.
“We should leave. Now.” Rynn was slightly impatient. “I wish to stay and watch the goblin camp some more,” Khaska said. “Go, though. Quickly. I will catch up with you.” Rynn nodded. They bid farewell to the cleric and bolted off into the trees.
The ranger set a decent pace, but even with a second moon rising in the night, there was not a lot of light, and it was difficult to move. The ranger was able to easily follow the very fresh goblin tracks, however, and within a mile they were able to break off to follow a parallel route.
Amara and Orensland were a bit winded a few minutes later as Rynn called a halt. Just ahead was a bit of a clearing—a farmer’s field. It was clear they hadn’t been fast enough. The house and the barn were already burning, and livestock was already scattered or slain.
Rynn cursed, looking poking his head above a bush at the edge of the field. He turned to the others. “What do you think? Shall we attack?”
Just then the goblin chieftain roared at the others. “Much meat!” He held up the leg of some animal, indistinguishable from this distance. “But no fight! Old humans. Fight more humans!” He screamed and then moved off into the darkness past the burning buildings. The others followed.
Jenika looked at Rynn. “We should get ahead of them now. We can’t help those people. They’ve already moved on and . . .”
“And now they won’t be moving fast or be as excited. Their lust for violence is slaked, at least a little.” The ranger moved off at a quick jog. The others followed.
Rynn picked up the pace a little, getting more and more worried. But he was right. The goblins, after attacking one farm, were slower. He also suspected that the drug, whatever this yellowleaf, was wearing off just a little. It had been probably two hours since they had ingested the substance. Longer, for those who had smoked it first. He wasn’t sure whether that was a good thing or not.
They were running parallel to a dirt road now, a dirt road the goblins were also following. They weren’t ahead by much, but by the time the ranger’s sharp eyes saw the outline of another farmhouse, he was confident they had a few minutes before the goblins would arrive. Rynn ran straight at the house, his hardened legs carrying him faster than the others could keep up.
Just as he approached the house, however, a large dog came out and began barking furiously. The ranger slowed down, not approaching the dog, and finally stopping a good ways from the house. He quickly tried to get the dog to appreciate and be friendly, using all the skills he had learned as a ranger and his innate sense of connection with animals, but the dog was having none of it. It stood between him and the house, barking, teeth bared, clearly on edge.
“Leave us alone!” a voice cried from a window. A light came on behind the figure, silhouetting him. It was a man, and a woman’s face peered out from the side. She had a candle in her hand, and a frightened look on her face. “Take what you want and go, but leave us alone!”
“Sir,” Rynn said. “We’ve come to help. A goblin raiding party is on its way. They just destroyed the farm to the east and they’ll be here soon. We came to warn you!” The rest of the party was arriving behind him, slowing down, catching their breath. “Please, sir. They are coming!”
“I’d really,” Orensland was sucking in air, “rather not,” more sucking, “have to fight,” he gasped, “them here.”
“We don’t have time for this!” Amara yelled at the man. “What? You think if we were bandits we’d just walk up and talk to you like this?”
“Mommy!” came a faint voice. The woman froze with fear, then disappeared.
“Look,” the sorceress continued, “if you don’t . . .”
Orensland stepped in front of her, standing straight, drawing his crossbow, and cutting her off. “Sir, I won’t let anything happen to you, or your family! You have my word! Whether you believe it or not.” With that, he moved towards the barn. The small path from the main road would come right by it. He slunk down by the edge of the barn. The dog was still barking, but when Rynn unshouldered his bow and moved to follow Orensland, it just dropped to a growl. Amara gave one last withering look at the farmer, but then also followed.
Jenika looked up at the farmer. “We will fight, then, to defend you and yours.” She also followed. The dog came a few steps closer, but stayed by the house.
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The goblin party was just coming into sight on the road. Rynn nocked an arrow. “So, get them to go away first, or fight a bit to soften them up.”
“Soften them up,” Orensland. “Make it seem like there are more of us than there are.”
Jenika nodded. “If they think we’re fortified and well-armed, we might have a chance.” The torches of the goblin party were clearly visible now, and very faintly their gruff voices could be heard.
“All together now?” Rynn said. The three of them nodded and readied their weapons.
The dog whimpered, and Jenika turned to see the farmer, boots hurriedly put on, shirt half tucked into breeches that were half-falling down with no belt, but he had a bow and an quiver. She quickly motioned for him to come, and he did, sneaking quietly.
“Decided we were telling the truth,” Amara whispered.
“The elf was quite convincing. And, well, then I saw the goblins coming.”
“And I was serious,” Orensland said to him. His face had grown very stern, a frown replacing his normal jovial smile, a hint of tightness around his eyes. “Your children will not be harmed.”
“They should be in range,” Rynn said. He stepped out into the open, giving the others a bit of room, nocked his arrow, and said “now!”
Four projectiles sped into the dark. The targets were easy to see, approaching with torches, easily illuminated. The goblins hadn’t even tried to hide their approach.
Two of the goblins dropped immediately, one with a shriek, but it appeared that only two of the shots had connected. The others were unharmed.
“Halt!” Rynn yelled in goblin. He nocked another arrow. “Go back, or we will fire again.” He slightly drew his arm back, but not fully pointing it at them. “You will not get another chance. This place is protected. Leave!”
The goblins hesitated. One reached for its bow, but Rynn pointed his arrow right at him. “Hey!” The goblin dropped its arm.
The ranger pulled his arm up slightly, slowly aiming it across the entire group. “This is your last warning! Leave!”
Another arrow flew out from behind Rynn. It sailed into the darkness. A young man had appeared at the doorway of the house, a boy, really. Couldn’t be much more than twelve or thirteen.
“John! Get back!” the farmer yelled. Orensland took a deep breath, then poked his head out, a crossbow in his hand, clearly trying to lend credence to Rynn, trying to show that there were a number of people here, all firing from cover.
The goblins began to advance. But Rynn drew his arm back and fired again. Another goblin dropped with a cry, and this time the ranger stepped forward in an attempt to intimidate them. “I said leave. Now!” He pulled another arrow from his quiver, and stepped forward yet again.
That was all it took. The goblins turned and fled.
Rynn relaxed, his hand moving reflexively to return the arrow to his quiver. The others came out from their hiding place behind the barn. The man was shaking.
Orensland put his arm around the farmer’s shoulders. “It’s okay. You’re safe.” The young boy ran over to his father and the two embraced, and the wife’s head poked out of the house door. “You can come out. The goblins have left.” The woman came out slowly, an infant in her arms, a young girl at her side.
“Well, more excitement than you’re probably used to,” said Rynn. “But you’re safe now.”
“Why did they attack?” the man asked. He still had his arm around the boy, hugging him close, over and over. The boy momentarily looked annoyed, but then the moment passed and he held onto his father.
“These goblins are being drugged and manipulated by some men hiding in the wilderness,” Rynn said. “These men are concealing something and don’t want to be discovered during the hunting season.
So be careful. I don’t think the goblins will return tonight. In the morning, warn your neighbors. These men have used several goblin tribes to do their dirty work, so they may try again. My friends and I are going to investigate what these men are up to and stop them if we can.”
“You . . . “ the man said. “You’re leaving tonight.”
Rynn hesitated, looking at his companions. Amara had already put her stuff together in preparation for moving off. She and the ranger locked eyes. “We should go,” she said. “The more time we waste, the less time we’ll have to track that man.”
“I agree,” said Jenika. “This ‘drug dealer’ needs to be dealt with.”
“We should at least go check out the other farm,” was Orensland’s reply. “Perhaps there are survivors.”
“And I think a good night’s rest is in order,” Rynn said. “Hard to track at night. And we’re all pretty tired.”
“Please, you could stay here,” the farmer’s wife said. “We don’t have much room, but you would be welcome to sleep in our barn. It’s at least warmer than out here.”
“I should ride into town,” the man said, “warn the council.” He looked at the party. “Please, stay, while I do so. We could feed you breakfast in the morning, at the very least. And I would feel more comfortable if you could stay while I warned the village.”
Orensland nodded. “We will sleep in your barn tonight, my friends.” He looked down at the little girl. “And we will keep the bad things away, so you can sleep.” The girl hid behind her mother’s skirt, shying away from the stranger.
Rynn actually opted to sleep outside of the barn after the man, who introduced himself as Quentin Northman, galloped away on his horse. But before Rynn dropped off to sleep he did notice Amara coming out of the barn and curling up a few feet away, muttering something about the smell to him. He smiled, and turned over and was soon fast asleep.
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Orensland woke up to someone shaking him. He bolted upright, grabbing the hand and instinctively going for his dagger.
“Ow!” the boy cried.
Orensland let go, and the kid stepped back, rubbing his wrist where the rogue had grabbed him. The elf looked around. Nobody else was in the barn, and sunlight was streaming through the cracks in the wall. “Sorry,” he said. “Did I hurt you?”
“Just a little,” the boy said. For the first time, Orensland was getting a good look at him. He was young, with sandy hair and a dirty shirt and breeches. His boots were a few sizes too big, and his hands were calloused from farm work.
“What time is it?”
“Sun’s been up for about an hour. Mother wanted me to wake you for breakfast. The village elders are coming, they’ll be here soon.”
Orensland got up quickly, feeling sheepish that he had slept in so much. He ran his hand through his hair, but then walked outside with his young friend.
The young mother was eager to feed Orensland, even though he had to use a plate that had hurriedly been washed after Amara was finished with it. He wolfed down several eggs and a side of ham with cheese while they talked.
The famer had returned apparently just before dawn. The village had been warned and were sending out a small party to look into the situation. Rynn wanted to at least go investigate the other farm before leaving, but the farmer insisted they stay and finish eating. The food was quite good, and Orensland didn’t mind. He surreptitiously slipped a gold coin under his plate as he heard horses out front and people’s attention was elsewhere.
The village elders had sent three men, one a wizened old man with a long beard, age stooping his back just a bit, but still able to ride a horse, one wearing some armor, though it looked pieced together, and one slightly more well-dressed man. They introduced themselves as Hubert, representing the elders, Richard, a kind of local sheriff, and Lazlo, who happened to be in town collecting taxes for the local lord. They wanted immediately to see the other farm. Rynn led the way after bidding goodbye to the wife and children. Quentin came with them. The little girl shyly gave Amara a flower as they left, and the sorceress graciously took it and put it in her hair.
The other farm had been completely burned down. Hubert climbed down from his horse first, shambling over to the husk of a cabin. Rynn followed as the others investigated the barn and holding pens. A few animals had not been killed, probably more out of luck than anything else. Rynn and Richard picked their way through the burned out cabin, and it was Rynn who discovered the bodies of the two who had lived here.
Hubert was particularly distraught at this. Apparently the people who had lived here had been good friends, an elderly couple, Noah and Sandra Reynolds. They had been a couple who were well past their prime yet still lived on the farm they had started together many years ago as newlyweds. Rynn and Richard brought the two bodies out and lay them down in front of the burned out cabin.
“These goblins will pay!” Richard said. “I’ll organize the militia, and we’ll attack them!”
“Lord Yellman will be displeased. You will have his full support, I’m sure,” the tax collector replied.
“Good.” Quentin said. “Taxes better go for something around here!”
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Amara said. “The men who are controlling the goblins may very well be your biggest threat. And they sent them here specifically to keep you away from them.”
“And that’s what we were going to do next,” Jenika said.
The pounding of hooves caught all their attention. Two more horses rode up, another finely dressed man and another man in armor. The four local men dropped to their knees.
The finely dressed man got off his horse and strode right up to the group. “Oh, do get up! I came as fast as I could. Thanks for sending the messenger, Lazlo. And you must be the fine wanderers who aided my subjects last night!” He bowed deeply. “You have my thanks. I’m Hayward Yellman, the Lord of these lands.” He stuck his hand out and vigorously shook the hands of each of the party. He listened attentively as they described what was going on. “And you’ll now be going on to track these men? They have this ‘sacred stick,’ and now don’t want to be disturbed. Will you return and inform us of what you find? I must assess the safety of my holdings, what with so many of our men gone?”
“Gone?” asked Amara.
“Yes. The Hammerdine military have been heavily recruiting of late. The Dark Times are coming, and they are bolstering their armies. We exist under charter from Hammerdine, so enlistment is all but required.” Amara’s face darkened a bit at that. Having come from a highly militarized city, she knew very well the problems that such a requirement could bring in a society. “And I can make it worth your while.”
Jenika called out abruptly to the trees nearby. “Khaska!” The Maha’i came out, moving slowly towards the group.
“This is our Maha’i friend, Khaska,” Rynn said to the astonished locals. “He volunteered to stay and watch the goblins. Did you see anything of note?”
“I did not,” Khaska replied. “And I fear my sneaking up too close almost got me caught. I came to see you. You were unsuccessful in stopping the goblins, I see.”
“Just at this farm,” Orensland said. “We fought them off at the next farm over. Saved a young family.”
Khaska’s ears perked up at this, and he smiled. “That is good.”
The adventurers and the locals all looked at each other. Then Lord Yellman spoke up again. “I don’t suppose any of you is a priest? Mine is away on family business and, well, these good folks need to be buried. It would be nice if someone was able to say some words over them before we commit them to Markus and the Good Dragons.”
“Khaska is a cleric,” said Orensland. “He could probably pray over them.”
“Oh,” the Maha’i said. “I . . . really, um.” He looked at the ground again, assuming the posture that Rynn was beginning to recognize as indicating discomfort. But then the cleric straightened. “I do serve the Dawnfather, whom we Maha’i call ‘Teresh.’ I do not believe our prayers are the same. I have never seen a human pray, and know not the words. But, if you do not mind, I might pray in my own language.”
Yellman hesitated for a moment, the silence lasting for several seconds, and nobody really from the locals looking straight at Khaska, before Quentin spoke up. “The Reynolds would not mind, my lord. They were good people, friends to all.” The nobleman pondered on this statement.
“Or, if you wish,” continued Khaska, “I might try to translate one of our prayers into your tongue, though it will be halting.”
Hubert spoke up. “That would be nice.” He turned to Lord Yellman. “Do not the gods smile upon us all? Does not Markus command that we respect each other?”
Yellman hesitated yet again, then nodded. “Please, Mr. Khaska, if you would say one of your prayers over these fine people. Then we will bury them.”
Khaska felt his hair prickle as he the gaze of the group rested upon him. He was unsure of how to translate some elements of the prayer – and some, indeed, were specific to Maha'i, and he only supposed that it was permissible to adapt them to other races. Taking stock of prayers for the dead that he had committed to memory, he settled upon the simplest, the most generic, the safest of the prayers, muttering an apology under his breath for not knowing precisely the correct prayer for the occasion. He knelt between the bodies of the deceased husband and wife, his knees level with their own. Placing his hands on their feet, and moving them up the corpses with each line of the prayer, he began:
“May your feet never know” (splitting was the Maha'i word, inappropriate for them) “injury from the road,
May your knees never know the strain of steps,
May your legs never tire from the journey,
May your stomach never know the pains of hunger,
May your chest never know breathlessness or cramp,
May your shoulders never droop under the yoke,
May your arms never know the limpness of decay,
May your neck never fail to stand tall,"
At this point in the prayer, Kirza returned, alighting on Amara's shoulder. The bird tried to speak, but the sorceress hushed the raven.
“May your mouth never thirst for water or kind word,
May your nose never sense stench,
May your ears never hear crying or lamentation,
May your eyes never know darkness,
And may …”
Khaska swallowed and omitted the line about horns, which had almost come automatically,
“And may Markus conduct you into the everlasting hills,
And may you there never know aught but happiness.”
By the end of the prayer, the Maha'i had leaned far forward; he completed the motion by prostrating himself, touching nose to the ground, between the two bodies while whispering words to himself, the words of invocation and benediction that were not meant to be heard by others. After a moment prone, hooves and knees, elbows and hands and nose against the dust, he sat up and then stood. He turned to the group, inclined his head, and turned away outstretched hands, saying, “If you would excuse me, I must go perform my ablutions, for despite the blessing of the gods the bodies of the dead remain unclean.” Lord Yellman, who had extended his hand in gratitude, nodded after a moment of confusion and let the Maha'i pass to the well, where he washed his feet, hands, and head in the water, then pouring the water over the well itself to cleanse it. As he performed his washings, the others resumed their conversation.
Amara and Kirza were whispering, and after a moment the sorceress turned to the others. “We know where the men are. It looks like there’s a few of them, and they have a sky ship. A small one, though, not a huge one. They’re at some ruins some miles north of the goblin camp.”
“I know the ruins,” Quentin said. “And they were right. It’s a favorite camping spot during the hunting season. Provides good cover, decent place to sleep, atop a hill, lots of visibility.”
“You were already heading there,” said Lord Yellman, “but if you are able to chase them off or find out more about what they intend, I would be most grateful. There would be a reward for any information or action you could take on my behalf and on behalf of the people of these lands. I have substantial wealth at my manor, and you would be most welcome there upon your return.”
Rynn looked at the others. Orensland’s face had lit up at the prospect of more money, but the other two seemed more noncommittal. The ranger turned back to Lord Yellman.
“At the very least, we’ll come back to report what’s going on. We should get moving soon, though. Would it be possible to buy trail rations in town?”
Quentin beamed. “Yes, yes it would. And the town is not far.”
As they walked, Rynn and the others asked more about these ruins. There wasn’t much to tell, really. They had been there well before anybody could remember. There was nothing in the histories about what it was. It was obviously set up around a hill, and there were various decaying buildings around it. At the top of a hill were the remains of a large building. The roof had fallen in centuries ago, but the pillars that served to hold it up were largely intact. Theories as to what the building were varied between the local people. Lord Yellman thought it would have been the seat of the government. Quentin and Richard were both of the opinion that it was a temple. Khaska asked them why, and they replied of a great stone altar with ancient runes and the remains of a statue. They did not know what Gods would have been worshipped there.
The town was abuzz with news of the attack, and the party was warmly received. Amara was impatient, whispering to Rynn that they should leave quickly, but it was hard to extricate themselves. The townsfolk were asking questions, worried about their defenses and their farms, and generally concerned over the situation. But Lord Yellman eventually was able to calm them down and let the party get on their way. “We’ll know better what to do when we have more information,” he kept saying. Rynn was able to grab a few trail rations, and they were able to be on the road by mid-morning.