“Belago,” the young priest whispered.
Ivan dropped down branch by branch until he was at the lowest limb, Pikel joining him there. Both looked at the running man, figuring the angle of approach, and they shifted side by side to put themselves in line. Pikel braced Ivan’s feet as the dwarf rolled under the branch, hooking his knees, his arms hanging down.
On came Belago, blindly, more wolves nipping at his heels. Another arrow sliced past him, the elf’s aim perfect, but the frightened man seemed not even to register that fact. He seemed oblivious to everything except his belief that he was alone and helpless in a dark night and was about to be eaten by wolves.
He ran under the tree, only because that course was straightest, for he must have known he’d have no chance to climb it.
Then he was caught, and he screamed as he went up suddenly, hoisted by powerful dwarf hands. Not knowing Ivan for an ally, he squirmed and lashed out, connecting on the dwarf’s face with several solid hits.
Ivan just shook his head and muttered curses against, “Stupid people …”
Belago wasn’t beginning to break free, but his squirming was preventing Ivan from getting him high out of harm’s way. Finally the dwarf heaved Belago as high as he could and butted the man right in the face. Belago went limp in his arms, and Ivan, with Pikel’s help, tugged him up to the branch.
Shayleigh’s bow sang out several times, keeping the pack at bay as the dwarves straightened themselves out and hauled dazed Belago up a couple of branches.
“By the gods!” Vicero Belago whispered repeatedly, tears flowing freely when he at last came out of his stupor and recognized his saviors. “By the gods! And Cadderly! Friend Cadderly!” he wailed, standing on the branch to be closer to the young priest. “You have returned too late, I fear.”
Cadderly slipped over on the branch and stepped down to Belago’s level, trying to calm the man. “Was Dorigen with you?” Cadderly asked at length, thinking still of the telltale explosion.
Belago didn’t seem to recognize the name.
“Danica?” the young priest asked frantically. “What of Danica?”
“She was with you,” the wiry alchemist replied, seeming sincerely confused.
“Danica came back to the library,” Cadderly corrected him.
“I’ve been out of the library for several days,” Belago replied, and he quickly told his tale. As it turned out, the four friends knew more about the place than he. All the poor alchemist knew was that he’d been put out, and that very dark things, it seemed, had subsequently occurred at the library. Belago hadn’t gone to Carradoon, as Dean Thobicus had instructed. He decided instead to await Cadderly’s return, or at least for warmer weather. He had friends on the mountain and had taken refuge in a small shack with a hunter he knew, a man named Minshk, east of the library.
“Dark things were about,” the alchemist remarked, referring to his time in the hunter’s lodge. “Minshk and I knew that, and we were going to go to Carradoon tomorrow.” He looked to the east, his eyes sad, and mournfully repeated, “Tomorrow …
“But the wolves came,” the alchemist continued, his voice barely a whisper. “And something else. I got away, but Minshk …”
Belago slumped on the branch and went quiet, and the four friends turned their attention back to the pack surrounding the grove. The wolves couldn’t get to them, but those continuing howls would likely bring in something, or someone, that could.
“We should be gettin’ outta here,” Ivan offered.
For the first time, Vicero Belago’s expression brightened. He reached under his heavy cloak and produced a flask, handing it to Cadderly.
Pikel, meanwhile, had his own idea. He snapped his stubby fingers and grabbed the heavy axe from his brother’s back.
Cadderly, concerned with Belago’s offering, paid little heed to the dwarves’ ensuing argument.
“Oil of impact,” the excited alchemist said. “I was going to make you another bandoleer of explosive darts, but I hadn’t the time before Thobicus …” He paused, overwhelmed by the painful memory. Then his face brightened again and he pushed the flask out to Cadderly. “I had another flask,” he explained. “Maybe you saw the blast. I was hoping to do another one, right before Ivan caught me, but I hadn’t the time.”
Cadderly gingerly accepted the gift from the alchemist.
“Hey!” Ivan cried, drawing everyone’s attention.
Pikel had won this round of their argument, shoving Ivan over so hard that he had to hang on to the branch by his fingertips to prevent himself from falling to the gathered wolf pack. Before the yellow-bearded dwarf could right himself or further protest, Pikel brought the axe down hard on the trunk of the tree, causing a small split. As soon as Ivan regained his balance, Pikel handed the axe back, and Ivan snatched it away, eyeing his brother with curiosity.
But Cadderly, more than all the others, even Ivan, understood what Pikel had become, what the dwarf’s love of trees and flowers had given him, and the gravity of Pikel’s action, the fact that the would-be druid had just brought a weapon against a living tree, hardly escaped the young priest. Cadderly shifted past Ivan, who was more than willing to slide away from his unpredictable brother, and came to Pikel’s side, to find the green-bearded dwarf muttering—no, chanting—under his breath, a small knife in hand.
Before Cadderly could ask, for the young priest didn’t want to interrupt, Pikel slashed his own hand with the knife.
Cadderly grabbed the dwarf’s wrist and forced Pikel to look at him. Pikel smiled and nodded, pointed to Cadderly, to the wound, and to the wound he had inflicted on the tree.
Cadderly came to understand as a single drop of Pikel’s blood fell from his hand to land on the rough bark beside the small cut in the tree. The blood rushed for the crack in the trunk and disappeared.
Pikel was chanting again, and so was Cadderly, trying to find, in Deneir’s song, some energy that he could add to the dwarf’s incantation.
More blood flowed from Pikel’s wound, every drop finding its way unerringly to the tree’s crack. A warmth rose up from that crack, the smell of springtime with it.
Cadderly found a stream of thought, of holy notes that fit the scene, and he followed it with all his heart, not knowing what would happen, not knowing what Pikel had begun.
He closed his eyes and sang on, ignoring the continuing snarls and howls of the wolves, ignoring the astonished gasps of his friends.
Cadderly opened his eyes again when the branch heaved under him, as though it had come to life. The tree had blossomed in full, large apples showing on every branch. Ivan had one in hand already, and had taken a huge bite.
The dwarf’s look soured, though, and not for the taste. “Ye think I might be fattening meself up to make a better wolf meal?” he asked in all seriousness, and he pelted the apple onto the nose of the nearest wolf.
Pikel squealed with delight. Cadderly could hardly believe what he and Pikel had done. What had they done? the young priest wondered, for he hardly saw the gain of prematurely flowering the tree. The apples provided missiles they could throw at the wolves, but certainly nothing that would drive the pack away.
The tree heaved again, then again, then, to the amazement of everyone on the branch, except, of course, Pikel, it came alive—not alive as a plant, but as a sentient, moving thing.
Branches rolled up and snapped down, loosing showers of apples with tremendous force to pummel the wolf pack. Even worse for the wolves, the lowest branches reached down to club them, crunching their legs under them or sending them spinning away. Belago nearly tumbled, fell right over his branch, and held on desperately with wrapped arms. Ivan did fall, bouncing from branch to branch all the way to the ground. He came up at once, axe ready, expecting a dozen wolves to leap at his throat.
Shayleigh was beside him in an instant, but the dwarf needed no protection. The wolves were too busy dodging and running. A moment later, Pikel and Cadderly, and finally Belago—who came down only because he fe
ll—were at Ivan’s side. Some of the closest wolves made halfhearted attacks at the group, but the four friends were well armed and well trained, and with most of the pack scattering, they easily drove the stragglers away.
It was soon over, several wolves lying dead on the ground, the others gone from sight. The tree was just a tree again.
“Your magic bought us some time and some space,” Shayleigh congratulated Cadderly. The young priest nodded, but then looked to Pikel, the green-bearded “doo-dad” smiling ear to ear. Cadderly didn’t know how much of the tree’s animation had been his doing, and how much Pikel’s, but it wasn’t the time to explore that mystery.
“If they come back, use the flask,” Belago offered, moving to Cadderly’s side.
Cadderly considered the wiry man for a moment and realized that Belago was unarmed. He handed back the flask. “You use it,” he explained, “but only if we absolutely need it. We’ve got a darker road still to travel, my friend, and I suspect we shall need every weapon we can muster.”
Belago bobbed his head in agreement, though he didn’t know, couldn’t know, the depth of the darkness of which Cadderly spoke.
As it turned out, they didn’t need Belago’s flask that night, or anything else. Shayleigh put them on the move immediately, back to the west, to a grove of thick pines, and there they spent the rest of the dark hours, the five friends and Percival, too, keeping a watchful eye from the highest boughs.
Cadderly could only assume they had hurt Rufo badly, for the vampire did not come out for them then. That was a good thing, on the surface, but the young priest couldn’t get it out of his mind that if Kierkan Rufo was not with him, the vampire might be with Danica.
Cadderly didn’t fall asleep until the night was almost at its end, and exhaustion overwhelmed him.
NINETEEN
LOST SOUL
Percival’s chattering heralded the new dawn and brought poor Cadderly from a fitful sleep filled with nightmares. He remembered little of those horrid dreams when he opened his eyes to the glistening light of a bright new day, they were purely the stuff of a dark night.
The young priest did know, however, that he had dreamt of Danica, and he was unnerved at that thought. While he was out there in the morning light, his dear Danica was in the cursed library, in Rufo’s undead hands.
The library.
Cadderly could hardly stand to think about the place. It had been his home for most of his young life, but that time seemed so very long ago. Even if all the windows and doors of the Edificant Library were thrown wide, the structure would remain a place of shadows, a place of nightmares.
Cadderly was shaken from his private thoughts by the sound of Ivan’s rough voice, the dwarf taking command while sitting on a thick tangle of branches below the young priest.
“We got the weapons,” Ivan was saying. “Belago there’s got his bottle.”
“Boom,” Pikel remarked, throwing his hands up high—and the force of the sudden movement nearly sent Ivan tumbling from the branch.
Ivan caught himself, started to nod, then stopped and slapped Pikel on the back of the head. “And me brother’s got his club,” the dwarf went on.
“Sha-lah-lah!” Pikel whooped in delight, interrupting again in an equally expressive manner. But Ivan didn’t react fast enough, and by the time he realized what had happened, he was sitting on the ground, picking clumps of sod out of his teeth.
“Uh-oh,” Pikel moaned, figuring that last move would cost him another slap, as his brother began the steady climb back up to his branch.
He was right, and accepted his punishment with a shrug. Ivan turned back to Shayleigh.
“Sha-lah-lah,” Pikel said again, but much more quietly, and without the expressive movement.
“Yeah,” Ivan agreed, too exasperated to argue further. “And ye got yer silver arrows,” he said to Shayleigh, though he still eyed his impetuous brother, expecting another remark.
“My sword will prove effective as well,” Shayleigh explained, holding up her fine, slender elven blade, its silver inlays gleaming bright in the morning light.
Ivan continued to scrutinize Pikel, who by then had taken to whistling a cheery morning tune.
“Even better,” the yellow-bearded dwarf said to Shayleigh. “And I got me axe. Though it’s not for hurting them vampire things, it’ll take a stiff-legged zombie in half!”
“Cadderly has his walking stick,” Shayleigh offered, noticing the young priest stirring, looking for an easy route down to their level. “And more weapons than that, I would assume.”
Cadderly nodded and fell heavily onto the branch tangle, sending it dipping. “I’m ready for Rufo,” he said groggily when the branch stopped bouncing.
“Ye should’ve slept more,” Ivan grumbled at him.
Cadderly nodded in agreement, not wanting to get into an argument, but in his heart he was glad he hadn’t slept more. He would be wide awake when the trouble started, pumped full of adrenaline. His only enemy then was despair, and if he had dreamt longer of his missing love …
Cadderly shook his head, shook away the bleak thought.
“How far are we from the library?” he asked, looking to the west, where he thought the library should be.
Shayleigh motioned for him to look the other way. “Three miles,” she explained, “to the east.”
Cadderly didn’t argue. The run through the trails been confusing at best, especially to one not blessed with an elf’s night vision. Shayleigh knew where they were.
“Then let us be on our way,” the young priest offered. “Before we lose any more daylight.”
He started down from the branch, but had to pause for Belago. The alchemist winked Cadderly’s way and opened his weatherworn cloak, producing the volatile flask.
“Boom!” Pikel shouted from the branch above.
Ivan growled, and Pikel quickly jumped to the next lowest branch. Ivan’s ensuing slap hit nothing but air, causing the dwarf to overbalance and tumble from his perch. He managed to grab Pikel’s green hair during his descent, though, and took his brother down with him.
They hit the ground together, side by side, Ivan’s deer-antlered helm and Pikel’s cooking pot flying away. Up they bounced to face each other.
Shayleigh tried to subdue a laugh, and shook her head in disbelief.
“At least you didn’t have to walk all the way back with them,” the young priest offered
Belago let him pass, and Cadderly hopped down to break up the fight. In a way, the young priest was glad for the distraction. With the dangerous task and the grim possibilities staring them in the face, they could all use a bit of mirth. But Cadderly didn’t appreciate the dwarves’ antics, and he let both brothers know it in no uncertain terms when he finally pried them apart.
“His fault,” Ivan huffed, but Cadderly, and Cadderly’s accusing finger, was in his face, warning him to say no more.
“Oooo,” Pikel muttered. When Belago came down a moment later, the dwarf leaned over and whispered, “Boom,” into his ear.
Cadderly and Ivan spun on him, but Pikel was only whistling again, that cheery, innocent morning tune.
Soon Shayleigh led them quickly, surely, and without hesitation along the myriad forks and turns in the confusing trails. The sun had barely begun its climb in the eastern sky when the Edificant Library, dark and cold, came into view, its square walls seeming to deny the warmth of the day.
They moved along the path five abreast, Ivan and Pikel on one end, Shayleigh and Cadderly anchoring the other, and poor, trembling Belago in the middle. It was only as they made the final approach, the broken doors in sight, that Cadderly took any real notice of their newest companion, the wiry man who was hardly a seasoned fighter. The young priest stopped the march with an upraised hand.
“You have no business going in there,” he said to Belago. “Go instead to Carradoon. Warn the townsfolk of Kierkan Rufo and his creatures of the night.”
Vicero Belago looked up at the young priest
as though Cadderly had just slapped him across the face. “I’m not much for fighting,” he admitted. “And I’m not thrilled at the prospect of seeing Kierkan Rufo, vampire or not, but Lady Danica is in there—you said it yourself.”
Cadderly looked to Shayleigh, who nodded solemnly. “Determination is the only true weapon against one of Rufo’s ilk,” the elf put in.
Cadderly dropped a hand on Belago’s shoulder, and could feel that the alchemist had drawn strength from his own words. As they resumed the march and neared the doors, though, the man trembled visibly once more.
Ivan stopped them. “We should have our path marked out afore we go in,” the dwarf reasoned. Cadderly looked skeptical.
“We have no idea where Danica might be,” Shayleigh said, “or where we might find Rufo and his most powerful allies.”
“If we go wrong, we’ll fight everything in the place afore we ever find Danica,” Ivan argued, but then, as if he suddenly realized what he’d just said, especially the part about fighting everything in the place, the fiery dwarf shrugged as if it no longer mattered and turned back at the door.
Cadderly took out his light tube and popped open its back compartment. He slid out the enchanted disk. Even in the bright sunlight its glow was powerful. Then he took off his hat and set the glowing disk behind his mounted holy symbol.
The young priest looked back at the doors and sighed. At least they wouldn’t be walking in darkness, but still, Cadderly wasn’t thrilled with the prospect of wandering through the massive structure, with so many enemies to face, and with a limited amount of time. How many rooms could they search in one day? Certainly not half the number in the Edificant Library.
“We’ll begin in the lower levels,” Cadderly said. “The kitchen, the main chapel, even the wine cellar. Rufo probably took Danica and Dorigen to a place of darkness.”
“You are assuming he has them,” Shayleigh remarked, her tone reminding Cadderly that both the monk and the wizard were resourceful and cunning. “Let us keep in our thoughts the hope that that Danica might not even be in there.”
The Chaos Curse Page 20
