The Forlorn Dagger Trilogy Box Set

by Jaxon Reed

  Not yet, anyway, Stin thought. He hoped that Kirt would neglect to mention the boy was the one who shot Plinny in the arm while fighting Bartimo, Bellasondra and Stin aboard Dream of the Isles. Plinny still could not place where he had met Bellasondra before, having chugged too many bottles of alcohol since then. No one had seen fit to remind him, either.

  Stin looked up at the sky and figured the sun was about halfway down. He thought they surely must be close to the highway by now. If they were to find the spot marked off by wizardly wards, they should be very near. And indeed as he thought about it, his eyes picked it out thanks to the mystical key hung around his neck. The ward hung in the air on the right side of the road, a ghostly circle about three paces in diameter with obscure runes on it.

  “Right over there,” he said, pointing while pulling Horse to a stop, “is what we’re looking for.”

  Everybody gazed that way, but they could see only a thick line of trees.

  Stin set the brake on the wagon, climbed out, then gave Bellasondra a hand down. The pirates and Kirt scrambled out the back and joined them beside the road.

  “Do you think,” Bellasondra said nervously, “the wards will react if we go through?”

  Stin shrugged. “I don’t know. The innkeeper said they were designed to alert Greystone of another wizard’s presence, and we’re no wizards. But, there’s one way to find out.”

  He pushed through the underbrush and into the trees, passing through the ward. The others followed. They quickly stepped out into a little clearing, with a rustic hut erected on the opposite side.

  In front of the structure, face down on the ground, the body of a tramp lay sprawled in a pool of blood. Flies buzzed over it, but carrion and other animals had not yet discovered it.

  “Poor sod,” Plinny said, his voice reverberating throughout the clearing. “Must of have been killed this mornin’ by the looks of it.”

  Stin nodded, agreeing with the time of death. He quickly walked to the hovel and shoved aside the flimsy door.

  Stepping back out he said, “The dagger is not here. My guess is, whoever killed him took it.”

  Veeroy pointed at discarded cores on the ground.

  “Whoe’er ’twas,” he said, “liked apples.”

  Stin said, “If only we had a way to track whoever did this. They can’t have used magic to get away. If they took the dagger, they had to have left on foot.”

  Veeroy said, “Me dad were a gardener, Lord Fortune. Had a bit of nature magic in him, he did. Growin’ up he always wanted to be a Ranger. He weren’t that good, as you can imagine. But oh, how he loved to go out in the wilderness. Took me along many a time when I was a wee un, too. I picked up a little of what he had. Not much useful, mind ye, but I did learn a thing or two. One of them was his trackin’ spell.”

  Veeroy stepped away from the others and began waving his hands in an elaborate series of motions, his face scrunched up in a scowl as he concentrated on rarely used magic. Finally, he whipped his hands down toward the ground.

  Gradually, tracks appeared in white all around. Some looked old and faded, some stronger. Many concentrated around the hovel, showing large bare feet all the same size.

  “That must be the poor feller’s,” Plinny said, pointing at them. “He ain’t got no shoes on.”

  One strong set of boot tracks came in from the forest. They led to the hovel, and back out again.

  “That one’s our killer,” Stin said. “Took him with a blade up close, rather than by magic. Probably caught him by surprise.”

  Veeroy pointed to an apple core tossed aside some distance away and said, “I bet the killer gave this fellow an apple or two. He probably didn’t see much fruit out here. Gained his trust, I’d say. T’was a treat.”

  Everyone nodded at the logic of it.

  Stin said, “How long does your tracking spell last?”

  “Long as you need it to, Lord Fortune.”

  “Let’s see if we can follow it, at least a ways. Plinny, there’s a spade in the back of the wagon to dig it out of mud if it gets stuck. Go fetch it and give this fellow a proper burial. Anywhere in this clearing should be good.”

  Plinny did not look happy about it, but he moved to fulfill Stin’s orders.

  As he marched back to the wagon he mumbled, in a low voice that nonetheless carried everywhere within sight, “I hates touchin’ dead people. Don’t mind killin’ ’em. Hates to touch ’em.”

  The others followed Veeroy and the tracks, which lit up before him. They wandered between the trees a ways, and in due course came out onto the forest highway near a stone mile marker.

  Wheel tracks showed in the road, old ones merging with fresher ones. A flat spot against the mile marker showed where somebody had evidently sat down. New footsteps showed where they wandered down the road a ways. Then they stopped, a final print pointed in toward the middle of the road.

  “He got on a wagon here,” Veeroy said.

  Stin nodded. “And he went that way, you think?”

  “Aye. That direction. Oxen by the looks of it. See how they’re cloven? Ye can tell what way they was headed by the direction of the hooves. I wager we’ll find more apple cores along the road.”

  “Very good. Your tracking spell is excellent, Veeroy.”

  “Thankee! I don’t get many chances to use it.”

  “No matter. Go help Plinny with the burial. I’ll get Horse and the wagon and we’ll set out after them. Hopefully we can clear the woods and make camp before nightfall.”

  -+-

  After an interminable time heading downhill, during which Pudge and Dally stayed in the carriage seated at an uncomfortable angle, they finally leveled out and stopped. They remained stopped for quite some time. Pudge heard a heated argument building somewhere near the front, and he finally opened the door to peek out.

  Dally gasped as afternoon sunlight streamed into the carriage. Pudge smiled at her in apology, then stepped out and moved to the front of the train.

  Before him stood a large barred gate blocking the road, manned by half a dozen provincial guards. They stood behind the gate with their arms crossed, frowning back at the soldiers facing them. Pudge’s aide Pick grew increasingly angry, his voice rising and his arms flailing.

  As Pudge approached, he could make out Pick’s words better.

  “Do y’ ha’ any idea who be in this carriage we’re escortin’? I gots th’ Crown Prince hisself in there, along wi’ hi’ precious young bride!”

  The local guard he addressed appeared unperturbed. He remained calmly gazing at Pick with his arms crossed.

  “I dinna care if i’ be King Nudge an’ Queen Frum. Th’ toll remains th’ same.”

  “This be an outrage! Extortion! Highway robbery!”

  “Nay, i’ be th’ law. Iffen ye truly do ha’ th’ Crown Prince wi’ ye, he’ll agree. Th’ Council says collec’ one gold fer e’ery wagon train goin’ t’ Osmo. E’ery train. There be no exception fer royalty. Pudge’s brother hisself paid th’ toll when he came through on his wagon train, I’ll ha’ ye ken.”

  Pudge smiled at this last statement, finally pulling even with Pick and gaining the attention of the guards behind the gate. He extended a hand, showing his signet ring.

  The local guard’s eyes grew wide. He said, “Take a bow lads. They really do ha’ th’ Crown Prince wit’ ’em.”

  All six instantly sank to one knee, and kept their heads respectfully lowered.

  Pudge said, “Up, up. Now wha’s this ’boot a toll?”

  Pick said, “I been tryin’ t’ reason wit’ ’em, Highness. Mayhap they’ll lissen t’ ye.”

  The lead guard, now standing up but looking dutifully impressed, said, “Aye, Yer Highness. Iffen we kin jus’ get one gold coin from ye, we’ll be more’n happy t’ open th’ gate an’ welcome ye t’ Osmo.”

  Pudge turned and chuckled at Pick.

  “Give ’im ’is gold, Pick, so we kin go on.”

  Pick frowned at the directive, but he turn
ed to walk back to the supply wagon carrying the money chest. Pudge smiled at the guards again, and returned to his carriage. Moments later, Pudge heard the sound of metal gates screeching on hinges, and the procession moved forward again. Safe inside the dim interior with Dally, he did not see the guard sent running down the road ahead of them to announce their arrival.

  In due course, they stopped once more. Pudge and Dally heard a band strike up and the prince cautiously opened the door, blocking the sunlight with his hand.

  Most of the town’s population had turned out at the back gate to welcome them. Dwarves crowded both sides of the road, and several had climbed the city walls for a better look. A loud cheer went up when Pudge opened the door. He stepped down and waved. The cheers grew louder.

  He reached a hand back into the carriage and helped Dally out. The cheers turned into a roar of approval from the crowd, and several close enough for a good look audibly gasped at her remarkable beauty.

  When Pudge turned around again, Dudge stood there with his hand outstretched.

  “Welcome, brother. Go’ be wi’ ye.”

  Pudge ignored the hand and gave Dudge a solid hug. The crowd cheered again.

  Dudge said, “We dinna ha’ much t’ offer ye, brother. Bu’ th’ Tin Hammer ha’ beds unnerground tha’ ye an’ yer bride migh’ favor.”

  Pudge said, “Tha’ soun’s good. Th’ sun be mighty bothersome.”

  Dudge made a motion to the town guards, who told those in front of the train to follow them. Then he went with Pudge and Dally inside the darkened carriage.

  Once all three were seated and moving forward, Dudge said, “I be very happy t’ mee’ y’, Dally. Me brother coul’ nay ha’ foun’ a nicer bride.”

  Dally smiled warmly. She said, “Thankee kin’ly, Dudge. I ’ear so much abou’ ye, and i’ be good t’ fin’lly meet ye.”

  “I fear we dinna ha’ th’ luxuries of ’ome ’ere in Osmo. But . . . i’ be better than th’ Farmlands fer ye, I wager.”

  Pudge said, “Ha! Tha’ be nay har’ t’ do! I’ be forsaken wilderness ou’ there. We been travelin’ fer days. T’will be our las’ trip this way, iffen I kin he’p it.”

  Dudge smiled, but kept his mouth shut. Personally he preferred the Farmlands over Ore Stad any day. But it was hardly surprising members of the court would find the countryside unfavorable, especially with its paucity of comforts and entertainments, as well as lots of bright sunlight.

  In due course, the carriage stopped again. Dudge jumped out and waved a hand toward the front entrance of the Tin Hammer. Most of the crowd had followed the procession, and now several gathered around the front of the inn. A handful of sailors from a ship that had docked stood looking around, too, towering above the dwarves and wondering what all the fuss was about.

  Pywot, the innkeeper, came running out the front door, a look of distress on his face.

  “Nay un tol’ me th’ Crown Prince were comin’! I dinna ha’ th’ place ready fer a royal visit!”

  “Dinna worry ’bout it,” Dudge said. “Ye’ll be fine. Bill th’ por’reeve’s office fer all expenses.”

  With several additional bows and apologies to Pudge and Dally, Pywot backed up to the steps then ran inside to make final preparations.

  Later that night after everyone in the royal party had eaten their fill, Pudge and Dally retired to their rooms, the largest suite under the inn. Pudge asked his brother to accompany them, and Dudge brought three growlers full of ale down with him.

  Pudge took the drink gratefully. He sat on a sofa next to Dally, took a long sip, and sighed.

  “A’ las’ we be back in civilization, brother. I dinna enjoy travelin’ through open fields.”

  Dally nodded in agreement, stifling a yawn. She drained half her growler in a single gulp, and burped lightly.

  She said, “I kinna stan’ i’ here. I wanna go home, Pookie.”

  Dudge winced inwardly at the affectionate nickname. Outwardly he said, “I’s nay bad, once ye ge’ used t’ it.”

  Pudge nursed his ale, and gave Dudge a sharp look. Dudge decided Pudge was not as tired as his bride.

  Pudge said, “I be glad we finally go’ t’ talk wi’ ye alone, Dudge.”

  Dally drained the other half of her growler and burped louder this time.

  She said, “Iffen you two be talkin’ royal matters, I be goin’ off t’ bed.”

  She kissed her husband, a bit too passionately for Dudge’s comfort, before tipsily making her way through the bedroom door.

  When they were alone Dudge lifted his growler and said, “Congra’s, brother. She be a fine one, indeed. Ma done y’ righ’.”

  “Aye,” Pudge said, and pulled another long sip. “An’ now tha’ she be gone, we kin ge’ doon t’ iron wedges.”

  “Ha’ ye news fro’ th’ Council?”

  Pudge shook his head. “Nay. Bu’ I be mos’ interested in wha’ y’ foun’ un’er th’ quarry.”

  Dudge set his drink down and wiped his mouth. His brows furrowed together in thought and he remained silent for several long moments.

  At last he looked up at his brother and said, “How be it y’ ken this, Pudge? Me lad Plank lef’ fer Ore Stad nay long ago. ’E had stric’ orders t’ nay say anythin’ t’ anybody on th’ road. ’E was t’ report t’ th’ Council only. Ye ’ad to’ve passed ’im on th’ way.”

  Pudge shrugged and said, “I dinna ken iffen we passed yer lad or nay.”

  He took a final quaff, finishing his ale, then smiled at Dudge.

  Dudge took a deep breath and mentally ran through the possibilities. Somebody must have left Osmo shortly after they found Lok’s tomb and news had traveled all the way back to Ore Stad before his brother left on the tour. It was the only possibility that made sense.

  “’Ow many ken?”

  Pudge waved his hand dismissively.

  He said, “Nay many. Th’ Council dinna ken afore I lef’. I reckon yer lad wi’ be th’ firs’ they ’ear of it.”

  So. His brother had a source, even this far from home. A private source. Dudge filed away the nugget for future consideration.

  Pudge said, “Bu’ I ken more’n that. I ken yer predecessor los’ several lads tryin’ t’ break in. I ken y’ dinna ken wha’ t’ do nex’.”

  Dudge locked eyes with his older brother for another long moment.

  At last Dudge said, “An’ how be it y’ ken all that?”

  “I be part o’ somethin’ much bigger than us, brother. An’ in th’ days ahead, mayhap I’ll tell ye more ’bout it.”

  Chapter 5

  Mist surrounded the island once more, and completely enveloped Mita except for a radius of perhaps five paces, just as before. The face solidified in front of her and smiled maliciously.

  “Are you ready for the final test, Princess?”

  “Bring it, Mist.”

  “This is more of an offer, than a trial. There is no humiliation in taking me up on the offer. But I would show you what will be, should you decide to become a wizard.”

  Mist lifted before her a third time, and the face dissolved. She saw an image of herself, standing in her black leather armor. She held a staff topped with the darkstone glowing in a black aura.

  Other images appeared next to hers, including her parents, her sister Atta, her brother Aldwald II. As she watched, they all began to move, quickly. She saw glimpses of her siblings’ weddings. Her sister grew large and round with child, then again and again. Soon she saw nephews and nieces rapidly gaining height and quickly progressing through childhood.

  Her parents aged rapidly and were replaced by cathedral stones. The Crystal Crown rested on her brother’s head, then he aged as his children grew. He and Atta and their respective spouses all appeared old. They were replaced, suddenly, by stone markers. The crown shifted to one of the boys, who married, had children, aged rapidly and became a marker. Everything sped up and soon she could not keep track of how many generations had grown and married, reproduced and died. The landscape
was covered with cathedral stones, and gravestones for those less prominent and interred elsewhere.

  All the while, the image of Mita seemed mostly unchanged. She appeared older, and wiser, but still carried the bloom of youth. No husband stood next to her, and the image had not grown with child.

  Mist spoke once more. “This is what happens when you become a wizard, Princess. Everyone you know and love dies quickly, while you age much more slowly. You will never marry. You will never bear a child. You will live many centuries while your loved ones become increasingly distant memories.”

  She watched as her image slowly aged, now showing crows’ feet around the eyes. The gravestones increased greatly, crowding one another.

  Slowly Mist descended again, blanketing the markers and her image in feather-white fog. At last nothing more was visible through the swirling clouds.

  The face appeared again, a few paces in front of her.

  “Everyone you know will die as you continue living in loneliness and solitude. Is this what you truly want, Princess? Your final test is an offer. You can leave this behind. You can love and marry and start a family and grow old with those you love. There is no dishonor in that choice. My offer, the final test, is a blessing. The blessing of a normal life.”

  Mist paused then and all hints of deception faded from his face, replaced with a look of concern and empathy.

  “You can live a rich and full life, Princess. You can grow old with your loved ones. You do not have to curse yourself with the mantle of wizardry.”

  -+-

  Endrick woke up with a start as the cart hit a bump in the road.

  The oxen had traipsed long into the night, well past the boundaries of the forest, before the old farmer finally pulled off to one side near a stream. He fed the animals and unhitched them, then tethered them near the water for the night before retrieving some dried meat from the cart. They ate supper without a campfire.