The Immortals of Myrdwyer by Brian Kittrell

Marac said before Valyrie could answer. He walked over and dropped a few broken limbs between Laedron and the fire. “How do you feel?”
    “Like I’ve been trampled by a stampede of horses. Achy, and my head hurts.”
    Marac handed him a canteen. “Drink that. We’ll have a meal before long.”
    “Thank you, Marac.”
    “Don’t worry about it. We have plenty of water.”
    “No, not that. For saving me.”
    “Ah, you don’t have to thank me for that.”
    “I don’t? Of course I—”
    “You saved me from Gustav and the executioner, so we’ll just call it even. Besides, what else could I do?”
    “Thanks anyway.” Laedron sipped some water, but his queasiness made him pause before he drank too much. He looked around at the unfamiliar surroundings. “How far until we reach the ruins? Any way of knowing?”
    “The ruins? They’re all around us.” Marac gestured at the worn stones on the ground. “Seems like this is the outskirts of what used to be a great city. This, I think, is your lost city of Myrdwyer.”
    A blanket pulled tight about his shoulders, Laedron stood and crept toward a half wall of what must have been the remains of a house or some other small building. He stared into the distance where the stones became more numerous and the trees were few and far between. For a moment, he thought he heard the noises of a bustling metropolis. Probably the wind . It could be nothing else, for this city is long dead and deserted.
    “We had better get some food in our bellies and some sleep if we’re to go exploring the ruins tomorrow.” Marac fished through the packs, then pulled out his metal rods and started arranging them over the fire. “I’ll take watch first, and Brice will cover the other half.”
    Brice rolled over on his sleeping bag. “I’ll eat later, then take—”
    “I’ll take the second half,” Laedron said. “I’m hardly tired.”
    As Laedron approached, Marac said, “You’ve been through a lot. Brice can—”
    “I said I’ll do it, Marac. I’m sore, but I’ll manage.”
    “If you say so, Lae.” Extending his hand, Marac offered a metal rod. “Would you mind helping me with the cooking?”
    Without a word, Laedron helped Marac build a grate over the pit, then plopped down on his bedding and rubbed his shoulders. Sorer than I thought at first. Better not make it obvious . He helped Marac season the cuts of beef after a light rinse to remove the salt, and over the next hour, they ate supper.
    “Whippoorwill, most likely,” Laedron said, trying to put them at ease when the others searched the air for the source of a mysterious flapping. “I saw a few on the way here.”
    “You were awake?” Marac nearly spit out his last bite of meat. “Made us haul you for miles, and you were awake the whole time?”
    “No, no.” Laedron waved his hands. “I mean, before the spell, before I passed out.”
    Brice shook his head, searching the night for whatever had made the sound. “Sounds like bats.”
    “Could be, but no need to worry. Neither will harm us.” No sooner had he finished speaking than Laedron heard the distinct sound of wolves howling in the distance. “No need to worry about that, either.”
    “That’s wolves, isn’t it?” Standing, Brice scanned the trees. “They sound hungry.”
    “I’ll protect you, Thimble.” Marac puffed out his chest and chuckled. “I won’t let them get you.”
    “I’m serious!” Brice said. “They’ll sneak in under the cover of night and attack. Maul us to pieces, they will.”
    Glancing at Valyrie, Laedron detected fear in her eyes, too. “Get a hold of yourself, Brice. We’ve dealt with far worse than a few wolves. Do you think I’d let them get us?”
    “What if there are twenty? Thirty? You’re in no condition to cast spells, and the rest of us can’t fight so many.”
    Marac shook his head. “A thousand? Ten thousand? Wolves don’t hunt in packs that big. At most, we might see five or six, and that’s