Chapter 4

Don't ask Tracer why he agreed to let this old man tag along with him. Probably because he took one look into those powerful green eyes and knew he didn't really have a choice. The strangest thing is when Tracer realizes Tron and his gray-speckled horse have the same color eyes.

He immediately regrets his decision, because if Tron isn't talking to Tracer or talking to himself, he is arguing with his horse. He is talking so loud that Tracer can swear they can hear him back in his valley, and he just knows that every creature in the mountains know where they are and they'll soon be coming to get them. Every time Tracer tries to get him to quiet down he turns to him like he just notices he is there and introduces himself again.

Finally Tracer gives up. "Screw it!" If this old man has survived up here by himself this long, being like he is, then there must be something about him that he doesn't see.

"Tron? Tron!"

"Oh, hi there, my name is Tron."

Ugh. "Tron, do you know what those wolf-like creatures are?"

"Wolveris. They are Wolveris. They are of the same family as Minotaurs, but they do not come from this region, are not as intelligent, and aren't as nice."

"Where are they from, then?"

"They're from beyond the continent of Escrotry, which is on the other side of these mountains."

"On the other side of these mountains? I didn't know there was anything except ocean on the other side of these mountains."

"No, there are several more continents. Although I don't know why they call them different continents, since they are the same land mass. They're actually just countries."

"All the maps I've ever seen just said 'beyond here be dragons'."

"Dragons, bah, there is a whole universe out there, boy, you just have to open your eyes." Every time the word dragon is said his horse whinnies out loud.

"Tron, how long have you been in these mountains?"

"All my life. I was born here. Of course it was a much nicer place before the Wolveris and mercenaries came from Escrotry and beyond."

"How long have they been here?"

"At least four years now. The mercenaries just started arriving this year, and since their arrival the Wolveris have gone on the warpath. At first the trolls, ogres and Minotaurs tolerated their presence, but once they saw what was happening war broke out.

"The trolls were the first to go to war. They are almost all dead now. Even though trolls can be aggressive and are about the same size as the Wolveris, they are no match for them. Even the ogres, who are much larger, have learned to hide from the Wolveris. If the ogres would join together and fight they might have a chance, but they are solitary folk, and one or two ogres, even as powerful as they are, are no match against a pack of Wolveris."

"And the Minotaurs?"

"If not for the Minotaurs I fear the continent would have been overrun by now. Minotaurs are fierce fighters and highly intelligent, and because of that their numbers have grown greatly. There was nearly two thousand humans living in these mountains at one time or another, but now about three hundred remain, and they have joined forces with the Minotaurs to fight the Wolveris and foreign mercenaries. I sense, though, that this is but the first wave of worse things to come." You can tell from Tron's accent that he is from the Deep South. But even then his accent is slightly different.

Tracer is trying so hard to soak all of this in, that he doesn't notice the change in Tron. He has become lucent and matter-of-fact in his talk. If Tracer would have glanced over at him, he would have noticed Tron looking at him with a knowing look and endless knowledge in those piercing green eyes of his.

They ride on the main trail for half the day and then Tron points, "We should take this trail veering off to the east." At first Tracer can't see any trail, but once they go behind a big rock outcropping and through the trees another trail opens up.

Tron explains, "This trail will lead us to the Minotaur base. We will reach it in about a day and a half. There we will also find the remaining human survivors."

They are getting so high into the mountains now, that there are still patches of snow here and there. With the sun shinning at its apex it does little to warm the forest floor, for very few rays make it through the treetops.

They travel for the rest of that day without incident. Tron's aura of confidence and lighthearted nature allows Tracer the best night's rest he has had in the last ten years. The thought that they should split guard duty to keep watch for attack crosses Tracer's mind, but it slowly dims with awareness.

In the middle of the night Tracer is awakened by the most horrible sound he has ever heard. He nearly jumps out of his skin. He is in such a hurry to get to his feet and arm himself, that he falls over his bedroll and hits his head on a rock. He can feel warm blood running down his face.

He picks up his sword and looks around for what he assumes must be an army of ogres attacking. It takes several seconds for his eyes to adjust to the night, and when they do he sees Tron snoring that horrible sound. He walks over and kicks him in the leg, but he doesn't wake up. After many minutes of swearing every possible phrase he learned as an outlaw, Tracer knows he won't be able to fall back asleep, so he takes up guard duty.

At the first hint of day Tron wakes with a start, "Well, son, we should be going now." He then looks over at Tracer and says, "You look awful, boy. Did we get attacked or something?"

Tracer simply says, "Or something."

"Huh, I didn't hear a thing. You should have woken me up. I'm quite good in a fight, you know."

Tracer silently starts swearing all those creative phrases he used last night again, because throughout the entire night he tried to wake him. At first he shook him and then he yelled his name as loud as he dared. Finally Tracer gave up, went on the other side of the small clearing, and started throwing little rocks at him. He really didn't think it would wake him up, but it sure made him feel better. Tron's gray speckled horse seemed very amused by the whole thing. Tracer thought he saw Ram smile once, too.

They travel that whole next day non-stop. Tracer is all for making good time to a destination, but it isn't just the haste that concerns him. Tron has quieted down and become very alert. They come to this large clearing that has huge rocks jutting out around it in a circle. This time Tron suggests they set watch.

Tracer says, "Fine, you go first and I'll get some sleep."

It must have been around midnight when Tracer hears his name whispered. He goes immediately to a crouching position with his sword ready. From out of the shadows behind them a dozen figures with glowing red eyes charge them.

Tracer whirls around and brings his sword up, and the first Wolveris impales itself on his sword. Tracer rolls it to the side and gets to his feet to meet the next attacker. The rest of them are only five paces away. There is no way Tracer can stop them all, but he swears he will take as many of them with him as he can. Just feet before they reach Tracer, flaming darts fly over his shoulder lighting up the night sky. The Wolveris fall to the ground writhing in pain until they die.

Tracer looks over his shoulder at Tron with his hands held out, and says, "You're a wizard?"

"Didn't I tell ya that?"

"No!"

"Oh, well, we can go back to sleep now. It will be safe enough for the rest of the night."

"Son-of-a ... Never mind." They move their camp to the other side of the clearing and the night passes without any further trouble.

In the morning Tron says, "We should be reaching the camp around midday."

They eat the last of Tracer's travel bread riding. His mind now filled with a billion and one questions.

"When I first met you on the trail you said you were expecting me."

"Yes."

"Why?"

"In the ancient texts it is prophesized that a man on a quest for knowledge will walk the land once again after being dormant. It is written that this man will be of both good and evil qualities. In fulfilling his quest, he makes the choice between dark and light. This choice will decide the fate of the world." Tracer is beginning to enjoy Tron's southern drawl.

"First of all, how do you know I am that person? Secondly, it does not sound like this person's choice will necessarily be for the side of good."

"Do you not fit the description? As for your choice, choices are rarely what they seem. You may choose the path of evil and it can still save the world. It is hard to say." Tron looks at Tracer speculatively.

"I suppose if you stretch the possibilities I can be that man. In my life I have chosen both the divine and evil paths on many occasions. My quest I am on now is not for power and evil, it is for peace. So, how then can I be made to make the choice between good and evil, when I have no desire left to do evil? I have left it behind me."

"Have you now?" Tracer's face flushes as he is becoming angry. "Do you ever truly leave anything behind?"

"No, I guess not." Tracer says. Then he lowers his head, not wanting to meet Tron's gaze.

"There has to be some mistake. How can I be the savior of the world? I was unable to save my own soul. I have been unable to maintain my own sanity. I'm empty inside. Damn it! I died a long time ago."

Tron informs him, "We are nearly to the camp."

It has been a rough journey. Many times they had to dismount and lead their horses through narrow crevices. Tracer can smell smoke from campfires now.

All of a sudden Tron turns to Tracer, "Don't make any hasty moves."

Just when Tracer is about to ask him what he is talking about, nearly a hundred minotaurs step out of the woods and block their path and surround them. Tracer looks around cautiously and sternly tells himself to absolutely not to do anything rash.

A relatively fierce looking minotaur walks up to Tron and starts talking to him in the minotaur's own language. Tracer can't understand anything that is said, but apparently Tron can, for he answers back in the same language. The minotaur nods his horned head and motions to the rest of his group, who then melt back into the forest. Tron and Tracer resume their trek.

At the entrance to the camp Tron and Tracer are met by forty human soldiers who obviously know Tron, because they just wave them in. These are battle-hardened warriors. They have that vacant steely look in their eyes that humans get when they have experienced horrors beyond their comprehension.

Tracer can tell this war has been going on for a while. So why, then, hasn't the Valley Guard or Continental Army gotten involved? Tracer will have to remember to ask Tron about it later.

"My word, there must be over a thousand minotaurs here. This isn't just a camp or a base, it is a stronghold."

Tracer immediately learns something new. He figured all minotaurs were black like the one he had met previously, but some are also brown. But all of them are fierce looking and big, at least standing seven feet on the average. And they all carry wicked looking weapons. Most are swords and battle-axes, but a few of them carry a weapon Tracer has never seen before. It is a thick stick about two paces long and has long double-edged blades on both sides. Overall, the weapon is as nearly as big as the Minotaur who carries it.

Tron leads them to a huge cottage in the middle of the compound and motions for Tracer to dismount. A human soldier walks up and takes charge of their steeds, then leads them off to be fed. Tracer hopes. At first Ram isn't having any of it. He wants to go with Tracer. But Tracer assures him everything will be all right, so he relents. "We are among friends." That gray speckled horse is looking at Tracer with amusement in his green eyes again.

"That is one strange horse."

The minotaur guards at the door of the cottage nod to Tron as they walk in. In the light coming from the torches hanging on the wall, Tracer can see a big table in the center of the room with maps laid out all about.

There are four minotaurs and two humans studying something intently until they notice Tron. They greet him warmly, and even shoot Tracer a few smiles. The humans offer their hands for Tracer to shake. The funny thing about a minotaur smiling at you is it is hard to tell if it is a pleasant smile or a grin that is about to turn into a roar.

At first they start conversing in the language of the minotaurs, until Tron mentions that Tracer cannot understand. They immediately start speaking human, or common, as it is also known, without missing a beat. Though the minotaurs' human language is heavily accented, it is easily understood. Tracer thanks them graciously for changing languages. Now maybe he'll learn the whole story.

"Batoa, this is Tracer." Now he shakes Tracer's hand. From the way everybody waits for him to speak, Tracer figures him to be the leader of the Minotaurs.

Batoa is a black minotaur who stands nearly eight feet tall and has to weigh in around four hundred stonelings easy. He is massive and muscles rip across his form. With his huge horns that curve around and go up, they have to give Batoa another foot and a half more in height. Tracer now understands why the cottage has a ceiling that is ten feet high.

"Tracer, this is Anderson. He is leading the human forces up here." Anderson has sandy blonde hair, blue eyes and stands at about five foot ten marks.

From there Tron goes around and introduces Tracer to all who are at the table.

After introductions are complete they turn back to the maps on the table. Batoa tells Tron, "The Wolveris and foreign mercenaries now hold entire western part of the Dandum Mountains. The trolls have been totally defeated, but a few managed to make it back across the line." They go on with the current situation, but Tracer can't get a grasp of the true situation because he is missing important information.