by Jaxon Reed
Darkstone approached Leddia and bent down to bring her face even with the older woman’s.
She said, “Lady Leddia, do you know who I am?”
Leddia spat in the wizard’s face, a glob of phlegm splatting on the other woman’s cheek.
Darkstone pulled out a soft cloth from her pocket and wiped the spit away.
She said, “I’ll take that as a ‘yes.’ We would like you to answer some questions.”
“Ha! I answer to no one.”
Darkstone took a deep breath and moved out of Leddia’s field of vision. She waved to the others in the room.
“You know Bartimo and Phanissa. They’re newlyweds. A chronosigil spell killed Phanissa’s parents.”
“Hmph. Good riddance. Finero and his family falsely accused my beloved late husband of chicanery on past ventures.”
Phanissa’s face turned beet red. Bartimo reached over and grabbed her hand, squeezing it, in an attempt to keep her from saying anything. At the same time, Bellasondra hugged her shoulders to give her support and encouragement.
Phanissa bit her tongue. But if she had the power to magically kill someone with the expression on her face, Leddia would be dead.
Darkstone changed tack. She said in a warm voice, “The chronosigil was a remarkable spell. I watched it through the memory of a servant. How did you set it up?”
Leddia smirked at the wizard. She said, “You think I am a child to be manipulated by your tone? You think this is a game? I will say nothing to you.”
Darkstone nodded, accepting that flattery would get her nowhere. She changed tack again.
“You have a daughter, do you not? What is her name?”
“I will tell you nothing!”
“Her name is Tisha,” Phanissa said, contempt dripping from her voice.
“So . . .” Darkstone said, acknowledging Phanissa and turning back to Leddia. “This is what I am going to do. I am going to go fetch your daughter Tisha and bring her here via a transport globe. Then I am going to strap her into this chair next to you, and I am going to let Phanissa, whose parents you had killed, do whatever she wants to Tisha. Right in front of your eyes.”
“Good!” Phanissa said, warming up to her role in this exchange. “Go get the bitch! I’ll claw her eyes out! I’ll cut her face up! I’ll make sure no man ever looks upon her with anything but pity!”
Darkstone’s eyes widened at this outburst. Everyone stared at Phanissa, who was breathing hard with her fists clenched. She shrugged away Bartimo and Bellasondra and stared with burning hatred at Leddia.
Even Plinny seemed impressed. He nodded appreciatively, silently approving the proposed violence even though he did not know who they were talking about.
At first, Leddia looked appalled, then the first traces of worry crossed her face. Finally, Leddia’s eyes slowly narrowed, and the corners of her lips turned up in a wicked smile.
She said, “Alright. You want to know about the Shadow Council? I’ll tell you. I’ll tell you everything you want to know about the . . .”
Oldstone reached out his hand in alarm. He said, “Stop her!”
“. . . Shadow Council!”
A dark cloud appeared. It filled the ceiling of the room and quickly lowered on Leddia’s head. Darkstone rushed to the chair and toppled it over, tumping Leddia backward. The cloud sank to the floor, following Leddia down. Darkstone cast Globe of Expulsion at the cloud, but nothing happened. It continued sinking, covering Leddia’s face, smothering her. Darkstone made a motion with her hands and a gust of wind blew from her palms, but still the little cloud held onto Leddia’s face, wrapping all around her.
Leddia’s smile disappeared inside the cloud. She choked, then everyone in the room heard the choking cease.
Darkstone said, “No, no, NO! Stop it!”
She cast spells of healing and rejuvenation on Leddia, then a spell of animation. Nothing worked.
The cloud lifted, dissipating as suddenly as it appeared. But its effects remained. Leddia’s eyes bulged out, then rolled to the back of her head. Just as she passed out, she smiled triumphantly. Then she slumped in the bonds of her toppled chair, lifeless.
-+-
Greystone finally talked somebody into playing Table Battle with him. He had produced a set and issued his challenge to the crowd. One of the guards from Ore Stad eventually agreed to a match. The dwarf, an agreeable fellow named Nippit, sat down to play the game on a rock someone found for him. His dusty brown beard moved up and down over twitching lips as he pondered each move for several minutes.
Greystone sat on a larger rock facing the board, which had been placed on a flattop boulder. Many in the royal retinue, at least those with a modicum of interest in board games, gathered round their captain for moral support in his efforts against the “yuman.”
The game lasted several hours, and over time most of the pieces were taken in battle. Eventually, Greystone had only his knight, queen, and king remaining on the board. The guard fared worse, retaining only two pawns and his king.
Greystone’s queen was ruthless, and continued her killing streak. He moved her to a nearby square, taking one of the dwarf’s pawns. She had now a clear line to Nippit’s king
He said, “Tally. The game is mine.”
A collective groan went up from behind the dwarf’s back as his comrades sympathized with him and mildly protested the loss.
“Well played, well played,” the dwarf said, mollifying his supporters.
Loadstone’s head appeared out of the now enlarged drainage tunnel. He waved at Greystone to catch his attention.
“It’s ready!”
Greystone waved back. He looked down at the board and the pieces and their wooden box, then back up at the guard.
“As a gift, please keep this set with my compliments.”
The dwarf’s bushy brown eyebrows shot up in surprise.
He said, “Thankee kin’ly, Wizard.”
Greystone stood and stretched, then hurried over to the entrance to join up with Loadstone while Nippit gathered the pieces and carefully arranged them in the box. Many of the dwarves present thought the wizard made a capital gesture, and they dispersed thinking rather more highly of humans in general.
The entrance was definitely larger now. Greystone did not even have to stoop. It was wider, too, he noted, just as Crown Prince Pudge requested. As Redstone had progressed in his efforts, the princes kept a handful of other guards busy fetching glowstones so that the newly enlarged tunnel remained well lit. Together the wizards walked down into the side of the mountain at an easy stroll.
Soon they came upon the crevasse junction, which could not be missed especially big as it was now.
“This was the hardest part,” Loadstone said, pointing to some seams that were not there before. “Took him a while to figure out how to make it wider here without causing a collapse. But he did it. The way opens up on its own shortly after this.”
Greystone nodded in acknowledgment and they walked through. The passage indeed widened quickly and soon they entered the giant cavern. At the far end, he spied an enormous metal door with a relief of Lok carved into it, holding one hand up as if casting a spell.
He said, “Hmph. Thought rather highly of himself, didn’t he?”
“Aye,” Loadstone said with a chuckle. “Ever notice how the bad ones always do?”
Redstone stood ahead, closer to the door but maintaining a respectful distance. The princes stood to either side of him, and a handful of guards milled about, looking bored. Everyone turned to watch as Loadstone and Greystone approached.
Greystone said, “So, what do we have here?”
Redstone said, “A protective globe, the likes of which I’ve never seen. You can get close to the door. But try to get in, and that’s another matter. Prince Dudge tells me some of his people were struck down when a pickaxe swung too close.”
“Hmm. And I presume any magical efforts will result in the same?”
“Almost certainly. This thin
g was not meant to be opened. Not without a key of some kind. Speaking of which, there is a slot on the door.”
“A slot?”
“Yes. It’s very narrow and about two fingers tall. It’s at dwarf height, located on the right. Prince Nudge here noticed it.”
“Let’s take a look.”
Everyone approached the door, somewhat warily in light of the deaths surrounding it. A few paces away, they stopped. Greystone stooped and looked at the slot, now plainly evident in the mass of metal once he knew where to look for it.
“Yes, I see it. Looks like a keyhole to me.”
“That would be a very narrow key,” Loadstone said. “Odd shape I’d say, too. For a key.”
“The whole arrangement is odd,” Redstone said. “A funny key made to open this monstrosity is right in keeping with things, strange as they are.”
Greystone straightened and took a final look at the door, taking in the unseen globe and measuring the power present in the space.
He turned to the dwarves and said, “Thank you, Prince Pudge, Prince Dudge, for letting us see this. And thank you for allowing us to enlarge the passageway. Now if you will excuse us, my colleagues and I will retire for the evening to discuss what we have learned.”
Dudge said, “Very good. We’ll maintain a guard ’ere.”
He motioned to a handful of his people. They nodded, and two took up positions on either side of the tomb door. The rest headed for the exit to take up stations outside.
Unwilling to cast Globe of Transport so close to the door, Greystone followed the guards and motioned for the other two wizards to accompany him. About the time they reached the point where the crevasse opened into the drainage tunnel, he looked behind them and found they were out of earshot from everyone else.
Very quietly he said, “I think I know now why that dagger is headed for Port Osmo.”
Chapter 18
The sun set in Coral City before everyone in the party was finally ready to go. Kirt retrieved Horse and the cart from the stable while Bellasondra paid their final bill at the inn. Everyone packed all their belongings and loaded them up, then Kirt drove Bellasondra and the pirates down to the Dolphin’s Fin. There, everybody waited outside while Bellasondra went up to meet with her brother again.
Bartimo and Phanissa came down. They had packed light, carrying only two travel bags between them. They threw the bags in back of the cart. Bartimo gamely jumped in, taking a seat between Plinny and Veeroy. He offered a hand down to his bride.
Phanissa gazed rather harshly at the two scruffy looking pirates, but nonetheless took Bartimo’s hand and climbed up to join him.
Bellasondra and Darkstone exited last. The former battlemaiden frowned at the cart full of people and luggage.
She said, “I realize now why they say wizards go into seclusion. The longer I stay out here, the more people I seem to collect.”
Bellasondra said, “I don’t think we can ever thank you enough for all your help. If we can rescue Stin, we’ll forever be in your debt.”
Darkstone’s face softened. She smiled at the other woman and said, “We are going to do everything we can to get him back. Now get up there and I’ll take us all to Port Osmo.”
Bellasondra pulled herself up onto the driver’s bench and scooted next to Kirt. Darkstone climbed up and sat next to her.
The wizard said, “Go out into the street and wait for a break in traffic, when nobody is near us.”
Kirt nodded in acknowledgement, clicked his tongue and pulled the reins left. Horse obediently clopped out into the middle of the street. Kirt pulled the reins gently, bringing Horse to a stop.
A few people walked by and a wagon passed them. Finally there was no one within 30 paces in front of or behind them.
Darkstone nodded and cast Globe of Transport in front of Horse. A large hazy orb floated lazily at street level, casting off dim yellow light.
Kirt clicked his tongue again and shook the reins. Reluctantly, Horse started forward and moved to the globe.
In the back of the cart, Plinny squirmed in anticipation. He said, “Ain’t nobody gonna believe this story!”
-+-
Stin woke up to the sound of the ship bumping into something. As he became more alert, he recognized the noises of a dock. The ship sidled up into position, scraping gently against bumpers. Ropes were thrown to secure her, and a gangplank rattled down to a stone quay.
Unless he was completely off on his internal clock, he figured they were making a night docking, which was highly unusual. For the sake of safety most ports disallowed docking at night. Even with torchlight such an undertaking was considered too risky. Most captains were happy to oblige, and if arriving at night they would simply anchor offshore until the morning tide could easily bring the big ships in.
Stin thought he had kept decent track of time. There had been little else to do. He remained cramped, legs bent with knees close to his face. He was thirsty. Fortunately, a few hours after they sailed someone entered the hold and threw a bucket of water on top of the grate. He had been able to get a couple good gulps, and his tongue caught several drips.
This procedure had been repeated three times. Each time he heard the person come close, whoever they were, he had yelled, pleaded, and threatened. No entreaties for assistance prevailed. Stin wondered if “the waterer” as he had come to label this person in his mind, was deaf like his last caretaker in a ship’s hold had been.
Now they were docked. Maybe somebody would come and fetch the box, he thought. And then, maybe he would soon be set free. Hope blossomed, and he found himself giddy with excitement when he heard someone finally entering the hold and approaching his box. Several someones, in fact. He counted maybe five sets of footsteps.
“Easy, lads. ’Eave ‘er up. Attaway.”
Stin thought, Dwarves? Must be Osmo.
He felt the box lift off the floor and begin to move.
Soon they were outside the ship and he heard footsteps clumping on the gangway, then clopping on the stone quay. He looked up through the grate and could make out stars in the sky above. So, it was definitely a night docking. Most unusual.
Soon he felt them load him into a wagon, and the stars disappeared again. It might have been his imagination, but he thought he heard a pig grunting. The door to the wagon closed, and it lurched forward. The movements seemed jerkier than with a horse, as if the animals had much shorter legs. He decided his wagon must be hitched to at least two pigs.
The gentle rocking motion continued for a long time. He tried to stay awake but the rhythm of the wagon’s movement proved soporific, and he dropped into a deep and exhausted sleep.
-+-
Dudge woke up to a persistent pounding on his door. He had taken up residence in a private chamber he found deep in the office complex under the port’s great hall. It pleased him to have a room of his own, and not have to rely on any of the townsfolk or Pywot and his inn for lodging.
Even though guards maintained a presence in the hall day and night, after his near-death experience with Rak and Puffin, Dudge habitually kept a weapon nearby. He reached into a table drawer and pulled out a knife before opening the door a crack.
“Wha’ d’ y’ want?”
He stared down at a youngish town guard, maybe 40 years old. The lad’s ruddy beard barely reached the top of his chest.
“Por’reeve Dudge, somethin’ terrible ’appened a’ th’ quarry! Jus’ terrible! I nay seen th’ like afore!”
“Calm down, lad. Take a breath an’ tell me slow.”
Dudge kept the door cracked, and the blade pointed out, but not sticking through. His nerves tingled and he was unable to trust anyone just yet. Someone trying to force the door open would get stabbed.
The guard nodded and breathed in deep, then tried to speak in more measured tones.
“We was guardin’ th’ drainage tunnel, me an’ Milsop an’ Juttin an’ Parsey. An’ I needed t’ answer th’ call o’ nature. They mades me walk outta th’ qua
rry. Nay un wan’s t’ pee doon there y’ ken.
“So I walks all th’ way up th’ switchback road, walkin’ fas’ I was, ’cause I needed t’ pee y’ ken. An’ I wen’ a pretty piece offin th’ woods t’ atten’ to it.
“An’ while I was back there, I though’ I ’eard some uns passin’ on th’ road. An’ I though’ tha’ wa’ mighty strange fer there t’ be travelers t’ th’ quarry a’ this late hour. So I finished up an’ ’eaded back doon th’ switchback.
“An when I go’ there . . .”
The dwarf’s voice broke and a single tear rolled down his cheek, disappearing in his beard.
“When I go’ there they was dead, Por’reeve! All of ’em. Milsop, Juttin, an’ Parsey. Blood e’rywhere. Tha’s when I hightailed i’ back t’ toon.”
Dudge took a deep breath, thinking. He said, “Ha’ ye reported t’ anyone else?”
The lad shook his head and said, “Nay, I came straigh’ ’ere.”
Dudge nodded and said, “Go fin’ Tun. Tell ’im e’erythin’ y’ tol’ me. Tell ‘’im I said t’ roun’ up a couple dozen dwarves fro’ good clans an’ tha’ ’e knows well, an’ t’ gather a’ th’ back gate t’ th’ city. I’ll meet ’em there an’ we’ll ’ead t’ th’ quarry.”
The young dwarf nodded, processing everything Dudge had said.
Dudge said, “’Urry, lad! Time’s wastin’ fer ye.”
-+-
Outside the rear gate, the party of armed dwarves slid to a halt in surprise. Before them stood a horse and cart full of humans. Dudge recognized the merchant twins. They were the ones he had helped with brokering a deal for dwarven ale. He also remembered the lad, who had once traveled with the thief.
Another one of them was dressed in the armor of a battlemaiden, and Dudge thought he recognized her from the Battle of Greystone Village, too. She seemed to know him, and when she spoke it cast aside all doubt.
