For Coltan the march was even more painful. The homing stone against his chest burned and buzzed, as if it were trying to burrow under his skin, sting through his sternum, find his heart and gnash through it. He gripped his own shield and sword in his effort to not rip off the amulet and hurl it into the creek, clenched his fists until his knuckles went white and then numb. The drums throbbed, faster than ever, closer than ever, and Coltan’s heart throbbed faster with them.
The trail suddenly opened into a broad grassy upward slope, but to no advantage to their march, because towards the crest of the hill there was a jumble of boulders where the trail narrowed again into a defile that would only allow the passage of one man at a time. The rocks were a hundred yards away. Coltan held up hi
