Tucking most of their gear safely into a hollow formed by three massive branches forking off in different directions, Venk dropped to his belly and wriggled his way into the small opening. Athos was right on his heels.
The cave they found themselves in was much larger than either of them would have thought possible. Both of them were able to stand up and their heads were still nowhere close to hitting the top of the merging trunks. Both dwarves craned their necks to look up; the roof of the cave was at least another four feet higher than their heads.
“Did you suspect this was here?” Athos asked as he glanced at the natural cavern formed by the intersection of the two trunks.
“Nope.”
“What are we looking for?”
“You’re seriously asking me that? A handle.”
“You know what I mean,” Athos replied crossly. “They wouldn’t have left it out in the open. Someone else might have come in here at some point.”
Venk pointed south. “You check that half and I’ll check this one. Meet back here in an hour.”
After crawling about on the floor for close to a half hour, both dwarves rose painfully to their feet. Venk silently studied the chisel marks near the entrance to the cave while Athos pulled his small hammer from his belt and began to tap various discolored spots on the inside of the trunk. Both trunks.
“Any luck?” Rhamalli’s strong deep voice asked from outside.
“Nothing yet,” Venk called back. “We’re still looking. How’s it hanging out there?”
They heard Rhamalli give an indifferent grunt.
“We’re going as fast as we can,” Venk assured the dragon. “Hang in there!”
They heard Rhamalli let out a “Hmmph”. Had the dwarves been closer they would have felt the deep rumblings of the dragon’s laughter.
“What’s that?” Athos asked, pointing up at the tree’s junction above their heads.
“What’s what?” Venk inquired, looking up.
“I see several frayed pieces of string.”
“You do? Where?”
Athos kept his finger trained at the exact point where the two trees had merged together.
“My eyes haven’t adjusted yet,” Venk told him. “I can’t see a thing.”
“Of course you don’t. You can’t see ten feet in front of you sometimes.”
Venk shot his brother a nasty glare before returning his gaze to the undersides of the dual trunks. They were still too dark for him to see whatever it was his brother had spotted. Athos suddenly gripped his shoulders and spun him about until he was facing west, towards the opening of the cave.
“What are you doing?”
“Hold still. I want a closer look.”
“And how do you plan on doing that when... oomph!!”
Athos had silenced Venk’s objections the moment he took a running leap and climbed up his brother until he was standing unsteadily on Venk’s shoulders.
“There had better be something up there,” Venk growled as he tightly gripped his brother’s feet.
“Hah! Did I not tell you? I see string!”
“String? What the blazes is string doing in a tree?”
Athos gently swayed left and right as he stared at the junction of the trees. What was a piece of string doing there, anyway? A second string caught his eye. Then a third. They varied in length, from a fraction of an inch to no more than two. Athos counted seven frayed pieces of string poking out of the wood.
“There must be something embedded in the wood,” Athos decided, eliciting a grunt from his brother. “If it’s the handle, maybe it was wrapped in something?”
“How do you embed something in a tree?” Venk huffed out. His shoulders were throbbing and it was becoming increasingly difficult to stand motionless.
“Could a tree be made to grow around an object?”
Beads of perspiration trickled down Venk’s back.
“Theorize later. What are you going to do about that string?”
Athos pulled the only other tool he had left on his belt: a small axe. However, even standing on his brother’s shoulders, along with his foot long axe handle he was holding, he still wasn’t tall enough to reach the Dual Tree’s junction point. Just then the Dual Tree rocked, as though buffeted by a strong wind.
“What was that?” Venk asked, momentarily forgetting the pain radiating down his shoulders and back.
Athos lowered his axe and looked around.
“I’m not sure. Maybe it’s getting windy outside.”
The sounds of creaking wood ceased.
Satisfied the tree had return to its normal quiescent state, Athos let his axe slide through his fingers until he was only gripping the very tip of the handle, thus giving his swing an extra three inches. He cocked his arm and prepared to swing.
The tree groaned again. Once more it felt like strong winds were trying to push the tree off the ledge.
“Hold up,” Venk called up to his brother. “Get off my shoulders.”
“Why? We won’t be able to reach it if I get down, and even then I can’t quite reach.”
Venk’s voice turned sharp and authoritative.
“Athos, lower your axe and get on the ground. Now.”
Surprised, and a little annoyed, Athos hopped down from Venk’s shoulders and speculatively eyed his brother.
“What’s the problem?”
“Every time you raised your axe, the tree groaned.”
“Trees don’t react to people,” Athos argued. “Just a coincidence.”
“I was watching you. Trust me. You prepared to swing and the tree made noise.”
Athos sighed. “You’re suggesting this tree is self-aware. Prove it.”
Venk nodded. “Very well. Have you noticed the Dual Tree has fallen quiet since you got down?”
“Coincidental.”
Venk squinted up at the dangling frayed ends of the strings.
“How many strings did you see before?”
“Seven.”
“Now there are four.”
“What?!”
“The tree must have pulled the object farther in to get it away from you.”
“Impossible.”
“If you don’t believe me, trust your own eyes. Look!”
Athos looked up at the dangling strings and cursed silently. Venk was right. Only four strings could now be seen. Had the tree really pulled the object farther up itself? Was it really reacting to them?
Thinking along the same lines, Venk nodded towards Athos’ axe. “Pretend you’re going to hack into the tree. Let’s see what it does.”
“Gladly.”
Athos pulled his axe back from his belt, strode over to the nearest wall, and made a few practice swings.
It felt as though the strongest hurricane imaginable just attacked the tree. The Dual Tree was shaking itself, as if an irksome insect had landed and it wished to rid itself of the pest. Mollified, Athos lowered his axe. Within moments, the tree had quieted down.
“Satisfied?” Venk whispered. “Dual Tree is already on shaky ground as far as I can tell. We don’t need it to jar itself loose from the mountain and end up destroying itself. Keep your axe sheathed.”
Ashen, Athos nodded. He slipped his axe back into its sheath and buckled it closed.
“I think you should apologize to the tree,” Venk told him while managing to keep the smile from appearing on his face.
“Apologize? To a tree? That’s not going to happen.”
They both heard the rustling of leaves high up in the tree branches. Was it a coincidence?
“Fine. Tree, I’m sorry.”
The rustlings continued.
“Now say it like you mean it,” Venk told him.
Athos shot his brother a dirty look and tried again.
“Tree, I’m very sorry. Can we let this go now?”
The rustlings stopped.
“Now aren’t you glad you listened to me?” Venk asked, unable to hide the huge grin on his face.
&
nbsp; Athos ignored him.
Venk paused. An idea had occurred.
“Tree, there’s something up your trunk, and it –”
Athos snickered.
“There’s something embedded in your trunk,” Venk hastily amended. “I don’t think it’s supposed to be there. If you’ll permit me, I’ll remove it and then we can be on our merry way and leave you in peace. What say you?”
Dual Tree gently swayed back and forth. Venk eyed his brother. Was the tree considering? The tree stopped rocking and fell silent.
“What happened?” Athos demanded. “Will it give us the handle?”
Venk looked up at the strings. He still counted only four. Apparently the tree wasn’t ready to part with its treasure.
“What about wyverian immunity?” Venk suggested. “We’ll see if we can get the dragons to consider this mountain off limits to any type of wyverian activity. How’s that?”
“You cannot guarantee that,” Rhamalli informed them from outside. “You cannot speak for Rinbok Intherer.”
“I know!” Venk hissed at the hole leading outside. “But I’m sure you could persuade him.”
“Unlikely,” Rhamalli muttered.
The tree continued to remain motionless and quiet.
“Ah! I have it! Athos here will personally plant a dozen saplings in our valley in your honor. He’ll personally water them every day until they’ve grown strong.”
Shocked, Athos smacked his brother on the arm. “What are you doing? I don’t want to plant and water any trees. If you want trees to be planted, why don’t you agree to do it?”
The telltale creak of wood assailed their ears. The tree was swaying again, only this time it was barely perceptible. Did it find the agreement acceptable?
“Give us that thing you’ve probably been holding onto for a very long time and Athos will uphold his end of the agreement. Do we have an accord?”
“No, we sure as hell don’t!” Athos hissed with frustration. “Me? Planting trees? It’ll be a cold day in...”
Venk elbowed his ranting brother in the gut.
“Agree to the damn accord, you fool!”
Athos glared at the tree and was silent.
Venk elbowed him again.
“Agree to it!”
“You’d better be willing to help me plant these trees. If I have to suffer through this, so should you.”
“Fine, I will. Lukas, too. Now agree to the accord!”
“Harrumph. Very well. Tree, if you give us whatever it is you’re holding there, I will agree to plant a dozen trees in Raehón valley. I’ll also make sure the saplings receive all the water they need to reach maturity.”
Athos turned to his brother and held up his hands, as if to say satisfied?
Apparently the Dual Tree was. They both heard a series of tremendous creaks and snapping wood as the tree shifted its position. Slowly, ever so slowly, the two trunks parted, revealing more of the strings. As the trunks slowly peeled away from each other, it was revealed that the strings were actually the fraying ends of what was once a burlap sack. Whatever it was concealing started to become visible as the trunks slowly inched apart. After about five minutes of painstakingly slow progress on the tree’s part, a foot and a half long bundle wrapped in a decaying sack fell into Athos’ hands.
Dual Tree’s creaking and rustling abruptly stopped. After a few moments of silence the trunks began to press themselves back together as they slowly reversed the separation they had just undertaken.
Athos wordlessly unwrapped the burlap coverings, allowing the torn pieces to fall to the ground. After the last piece of cloth had fallen away, the two brothers stared at the object before them. Twenty inches long and covered with carvings, runes, and unknown symbols, the dark oak handle gleamed as though it had been polished the day before.
Athos looked down at the carved piece of wood and nodded.
“Think that’s what we’re looking for?”
“Without a doubt,” Venk agreed.
“Want to get off this infernal mountain?”
“Like you wouldn’t believe.”
Chapter 10 – Armin’ the Hammer!
“I can’t believe it. I just can’t believe it! Look! We’ve recovered all the pieces! Hammer head, counter weight, handle, and spiral gem. Do you have any idea what historical significance these four objects hold? Hmm? Do you??”
“No clue,” Athos mumbled. “And I suppose you’re going to tell us?”
“Never since the time of the dragon riders has one of the famed Narian tools ever been recovered. If it proves to be authentic, think what benefits we’ll learn from the metallurgical analysis!”
“If it proves to be authentic?” Breslin repeated. “Don’t make me recant my earlier praise. You know just as well as I do that all four pieces are authentic. The only thing left to do now is to assemble the hammer. It should be simple.”
“Who gets the honor?” Athos asked, hopeful that he might selected to piece together the tool created so many centuries ago.
“I’d say the honor should go to Master Venk,” Breslin answered. “We’re all here because of his son.”
Nodding appreciatively, Venk took the carved handle and examined the ends, searching for some indication of which way was up. There was none. Shrugging, he picked up the misshapen head and threaded the handle through hole to the right of the striking head. Here now he paused. What was to prevent the head from sliding down the handle? Typically hammer handles were either flared at one end, allowing the head to be wedged into place, or else the end of the handle was flattened with repeated blows from another hammer. Either method was a generally accepted practice of creating a hammer. However, neither would work here.
The ornate wooden handle, with carvings covering every square inch of its surface, was just that: wooden. Any attempts to flatten either end of the handle would result in the shaft splintering or breaking. The handle was also, as Venk had already discovered, perfectly straight. Neither end was flared, so the head would simply slide off once the hammer was lifted upright.
Venk studied the other pieces. Could he have the order wrong? Basic hammer components remained the same, although their design could vary. Hammer head, handle, and counterweight if the hammer didn’t have dual striking heads, which this one didn’t. Either they were missing something or else the fourth and final piece of the hammer played a more significant role than he had originally believed.
Venk picked up the spiraled gem. He studied the glittering jewel and noted that the natural shape of the ruby whorl suggested it had to be inserted into the hammer. But how? There was no empty hole anywhere on the hammer’s head that indicated where the gem should sit. Maybe it could be forced in?
Almost instantly Venk shook his head, dismissing the thought. The last thing he wanted to do was be responsible for damaging the unique gem. Any situation which required a hammer in one hand and something delicate in the other could never end well. Not for him, anyway.
Nevertheless, Venk slid the hammer head into place on the handle and laid it reverently down on the grass. He picked up the square counterweight and slid that onto the head’s non-striking surface, positioning it up against the handle. Holding the gem in his left hand, he gently turned the hammer on its side. Careful not to let any of the pieces fall out of place, he tilted the hammer onto its back. A quick inspection of each side confirmed his earlier suspicions. There was nowhere to insert the gem.
“Tristofer, let’s see that book of yours again. I want to see where the gem is supposed to be.”
The scholar produced the book after a quick inventory of his pockets. He flipped to the page with the close-up of the hammer and handed it to Venk. Tristofer leaned over his shoulder and tapped the picture of the hammer.
“Look there. See? The gem doesn’t appear to be on the striking surface, but more on the side.”
A quick scowl from Venk had Tristofer yanking his arm out of harm’s way. He returned to studying the illustration of the tiny
hammer.
“With the striking head on the left, and the small point on the right, with the weight sitting on the head directly after the handle, there’s no room for error.” Venk glanced up to judge the reactions from his companions. “There isn’t any other way to assemble the hammer. This must be right.”
Tristofer pointed at the square metal weight.
“The counter weight could be reversed. That might –”
“What?” Venk interrupted. “Affect how the crystal is inserted into the hammer? I don’t see how.”
Athos stared at the pieces of the hammer and rolled his eyes. He approached his brother and slid the counter weight off the hammer, rotated it 90° and returned it to its place on the head’s shank. Together he and his brother turned the hammer over so they could look for any changes. When none was forthcoming Athos rotated the counter weight again. When he had gone through all possible permutations, and still the mystery of the gem remained unsolved, Athos returned to Breslin’s side to brood some more.
Tristofer nodded appreciatively.
Breslin clapped his hands together, startling everyone out of there reverie.
“What we have here is a mystery. This hammer is supposed to hold incredible power. How? How do we activate it? Does anyone have any ideas?”
“The gem goes on the head,” Athos reminded everyone. “I say we pound it in.”
“We’d risk breaking the jewel,” Breslin told him, shaking his head no. “We can’t risk that. If we had another, perhaps. Since we don’t, we won’t attempt it.”
Athos pulled a hammer from his belt.
“You never know until you try.”
“Put it away, Athos,” Breslin told him. “You’re not going to pound the jewel into the hammer.”
“What about drilling our own hole into the head?” Venk suggested.
“We’d need a forge and smithing tools to do that,” Athos automatically replied. “And even then all hammer heads are heat tempered. I strongly doubt we’d be able to scratch it.”
Lost City Page 22
