by C S Vass
“I have to go to her. Damnit you know what happened. I have to find Selena, quickly.”
Robert couldn’t help himself. “Selena? Who is Selena?”
“You know damn well who she is. I have to find Selena.” Godwin’s voice broke as he spoke the name. “She miscarried, Torin. Is that what you needed to hear? Does that give you the assurances that you need? There’s no danger of your prized killer running off to try to become a father. There never was. Why do you think I have my thrygta carved into my chest? But all the same…she needs me now. I have to go to her.”
Robert could feel his heart pounding in his ears. He hadn’t known—he never would have carried out this conversation if he thought Godwin might reveal something so personal. But…it probably wasn’t true, of course. It was the ramblings of a fever dream. Nothing more. The tears that trailed Godwin’s cheeks were real enough. Surely it was just the result of stress and worry about Lyra. Nothing more.
“Rest easy, friend,” Robert said, determined not to hear anything else not meant for his ears. He pressed the compress onto Godwin’s forehead. “Everything will be alright. You’re in good hands. I’ll see if we can’t get something from our host to help you sleep.”
Robert did just that, and a short time later he and Jondus were standing over the sleeping Shigata. “I’ll have someone check on him every few hours,” Jondus said. “That way you can get some sleep.”
“Thank you. But you know we still have a task to do.”
“You’re sure that you feel up to it? To look at you now I would never have guessed that you survived a shipwreck within the last twenty-four hours.”
“I’m up to it,” Robert said. “Besides, you’ll need my help retrieving it. I made sure to hide it well.”
Jondus nodded. “All right. Meet me at the stable in ten minutes. Try not to draw any unnecessary attention.”
“We’re not bringing any assistance?”
“If what you told me is true, then we need to keep the circle as small as possible. It’ll just be the two of us. Bring your swords. If any washed up pirates encounter us on the road, we may need them.”
The chill night air nipped at Robert’s exposed neck and disturbed the pleasant humming in his head the wine had created, but he was comfortable in the fur-lined cloak Jondus had gifted him with. His horse was a sleepy chestnut that was none too pleased to be pulled from its safe stable, but once they were on the road, it snorted with pleasure.
They rode for almost an hour, their trail illuminated by only the faintest hint of moonlight. It was a black, starless night with heavy sweeping clouds rolling across the horizon over the Dark Sea. The smell of salt tingled Robert’s nose.
When the ground became sandy, Robert stopped. Listening carefully in the darkness, he heard only the distant rolling of waves in the ocean. “Forgive me, Robert, but you seem a tad uncertain. Are we in trouble?”
“No,” Robert said. “No, I wouldn’t forget something like this.”
Jondus nodded. “Very well.”
They trotted another half mile down the coast while Robert scanned the area searching for his mark. At last he found it in the form of an oddly shaped cluster of dune grass jutting through the sand. He looked carefully for any sign of footprints but saw none. Not even his own from earlier.
“It’s here,” Robert said. The two men dismounted. Robert didn’t like the concerned look on his companion’s face. “Jondus, if this is a problem…if you don’t want to deal with it, then we can turn back now.”
Jondus smiled. “There’s no way of knowing now if it’ll be a problem for me to take it. If we leave it for someone else, then I think it’s safe to say that that will certainly be a problem.”
Robert took a spade and slammed it into the ground. Despite the cold it gave way easily. It had been recently disturbed, and Robert had not buried it very deeply at the time. Within a few moments it was exposed. Robert reached into the hole and pulled out a muddy bronze crown. Almost too-quickly, he handed it over to Jondus.
“So this is the cause of your worries,” Jondus said, taking the crown without fear.
“Wouldn’t you be worried too, knowing that an army of vodyanoi were willing to sink a cog to retrieve this thing?”
“Of course. You did the right thing by letting me know about it.”
The crown was the simplest of metalwork. There were no engravings, decorations, jewels, or markings of anything other than an amateur craftsman. It was simply a thin band of dull bronze, slightly too large for the average human head.
“Can you tell if it’s dangerous?”
“Right now, no. If in the morning my hand withers and falls off, I suppose we’ll have our answer.”
“Ha-ha. What will you do with it?”
“It’s likely not safe to keep here. I’ll send it to the eternal children. Shane will want to see it himself. He can decide if it’s something to be destroyed or treasured.”
“And you are certain we don’t want to give this back to the vodyanoi.”
“And reward thievery? The water demons have no knowledge of metalworking. No human or sorcerer would be so bold to trade with them. No, this was stolen. From who and for what purpose, I cannot say. Perhaps putting it on would be illuminating, but I’m not so foolish as that.”
Jondus placed the crown carefully into a brown sack and mounted his horse. “Come on. If you have more questions, we can discuss them over wine at the inn. It’s too cold to stay out here, and I don’t like the look of those waters. It’s a miracle you don’t have a severe fever after running amok out here in your drawers.”
Shivering, Robert glanced out towards the inky blackness of the Dark Sea. He imagined hundreds of snarling vodyanoi swirling just below the surface.
His chestnut whinnied as he spurred it forward. They made excellent time on the return trip.
Chapter 11
Fierce winds snarled against the rocks as the sky blackened. To the east the vast purple plains of Killer’s Rest rolled outward, a seemingly endless swath of land. In the distance two destriers thundered across the plains. King Kark had granted the three travelers use of his steeds to the end of plains, but had ordered them to send the horses back once they had reached the first stones of the Jagjaw Mountains.
“We’ll be swept back down the side of the mountain like shit out of a pig’s arse if we don’t find shelter,” Tzuri-kai shouted over the wind. Faela wrinkled her nose. Traveling with the foul-mouthed dwarf had taught her two things: it was easier for him to curse up a storm than cook a simple soup over a campfire, and dwarves did not abide by the usual human standards of modesty when it came to relieving themselves on the road.
“The storm approaches from the west,” Yaura observed, her black hair whipping around her head. “Perhaps we should retreat down the mountain while we still have a choice in the matter and make camp until it passes.”
“And lose the progress that we’ve made?” Tzuri-kai barked. “I think not!”
“We should at least try to—”
A streak of lightening directly overhead drowned out Faela’s words.
“The tits on that one!” Tzuri-kai laughed. Faela shook her head, unsure what that even meant.
“Whatever we do we can’t stay here!” Yaura roared over the rising winds. “If we’re not going to retreat, we have to hope we can find shelter on the mountain.”
She looked to Faela, expectantly. Faela stepped in and opened her mouth, but the dwarf shouted over her. “Then let’s get on with it. I’ve seen some storms that were bastards. This one is shaping up to be two bastards, a bitch, and a barrel of drunken dwarves!” Without waiting for either of the women to respond, Tzuri-kai trudged up the rocky path, grumbling and swearing to himself as he did so.
Shrugging, Yaura followed.
Faela had found her companions wanting since they first left Kark. The dwarf was unpleasant in several predictable and consistent ways, and Yaura’s attitude seemed to have changed for the worse. Ever since th
at meeting, the Shigata seemed to have come to the conclusion that she and Faela were no longer equals, but that Faela was a childish companion to be watched over and never listened to.
In fact, Faela was beginning to question the entire point of the journey. King Boldfrost had commanded every Dragon to Iryllium. By failing to go there immediately, she was defying a royal proclamation, regardless of Brett’s insistence that she would be protected from any criminal accusations. And for what? Yaura and Tzuri-kai were clearly capable of making the journey to Jagjaw on their own and finding out what they could about the state of affairs there. Yaura and Tzuri-kai were capable of continuing westward and finding out what was happening in Valencia.
Faela shuddered as the chill wind fought bitterly to pierce her cloak. What Kark had said about Valencia, what Tzuri-kai insisted was true…they couldn’t be right, could they? King Boldfrost may not have been the man he once was, but he wouldn’t allow pogroms to happen openly in a major city. Sylvester Shade’s reputation may have been gruesome, but he wouldn’t truly sanction such monstrous evil, would he?
“Faela!” Yaura shouted from up ahead. “Come on, you’re lagging. The storm will be upon us within the hour!”
She wasn’t wrong, Faela noted with a glance at the sky. It had transformed from a purple the color of an ugly bruise to a threatening shade of black. Hurrying, she sped forward to catch up.
The group moved quickly and silently up the steep mountain path. The Mountains of Jagjaw were an abrupt cluster of spiky peaks connected by winding paths that snaked through the tough old evergreens that managed to grow despite the rocky soil. Worse still, they would receive no welcome from Tzuri-kai’s clan. Those dwarves were in a different region of the expansive mountain range, far too long a distance out of the way of their path towards Valencia.
The Jagjaw Mountains were also legendary for their hostile inhabitants. Clans of elves, dwarves, and ogres hid themselves in the nooks and crannies of the mountains. Not truly part of King Boldfrost’s realm, they respected no laws and paid no taxes but to their own clan leaders. Travelers were greeted with suspicion or with swords on a case-by-case basis, but even the threat of the hardened clans was infinitely preferable to the other danger: the demons of Jagjaw that had been said to multiply like flesh-eating rabbits in the last year.
Faela knew their chances of traveling through Jagjaw without encountering a demon were virtually none. There would come a time to fight as a team, that much was certain. The real question that bothered her was, could she trust her companions?
Tzuri-kai hawked and spat as he fought to get around a mossy boulder that Yaura had leapt on top of with ease. A clap of thunder echoed across the sky. Faela scanned the rocky terrain for any sign of shelter that they could crawl into, no matter how pathetic it might be. There was nothing to shield them against the exposed sky.
The rain fell.
It fell in hellish torrents, whipped into a watery whirlpool by the blustering winds that scattered tree branches and slapped their faces. “Fuck me!” Tzuri-kai spat. “We’re getting wetter than a Tarsurian whore in a dwarven beer hall.”
Faela wasn’t paying attention. She had spotted a splotch of darkness on the side of the mountain to their right. Not daring to hope, she moved towards it as sticks and branches crunched beneath her boots. “Where are you going?” Yaura shouted over the winds. Faela barely heard her. Blood pounded in her temples as a smile erupted across her face. “Here! This way! This way!” she shouted, leaping up and down.
It was a tight squeeze, but sliding behind a massive boulder, Faela managed to find an exposed shelter yawning into the heart of the mountain. With a flick of her wrist, a small ball of glowing red fire illuminated the cavern.
“My gods!” Yaura laughed. “You found something. Excellently done!”
Faela nodded and wiped away a wet strand of hair from her face. “Come closer. I can dry our clothes before a chill sets in.” The two women huddled together as Faela grew the fire’s intensity. The sound of Tzuri-kai’s cursing filled the cave as the squat dwarf struggled to force his round belly through the hole into the shelter.
The group stayed together for ten minutes, warming themselves up by Faela’s magic flame. Normally a consistent effort to keep a burn like that would have completely drained her energy, but ever since Faela’s encounter with the old woman in that house, she had found a near limitless supply of energy within herself.
After the group had warmed up and eaten some of the hard jerked beef that Kark’s men had provided them with, they looked towards the darkness. “Is it worth exploring?” Yaura asked. “We are, after all, supposed to be looking for the mountain clans that dwell here. Tzuri-kai, could this be some dwarven refuge?”
“We’re still a ways away from the dwellings of my own clan,” the dwarf replied. Looking around he continued, “This doesn’t show any signs of dwarven habitation, but I suppose it could hold some of my kin.”
“If we could conclude our business in Jagjaw right here right now, it would certainly be worth it,” Faela said, her eyes flickering in the light of the fire she held. “Then we could focus on moving towards Valencia.”
“It’s important that I return to the Shigata with accurate information about what’s going on in these mountains,” Yaura said. “We shouldn’t rush through. Still if there are dwarves here, then it would be a good start.”
“Could be something a lot less friendly than dwarves in there,” Tzuri-kai responded. “What then?”
“Then you draw that short sword you keep at your side,” Yaura said. “Unless you only keep that tiny thing to shave the hair from your balls.”
Tzuri-kai shook with laughter. “You’ll have to buy me dinner at a better place than this if you’d like to see my boys. Aye, I keep my sword for more than smoothing my jewels, but I prefer not to draw it without good reason. You never know who might be offended by an unexpected guest with a drawn blade.”
Faela shifted uncomfortably. She had yet to find a way to include herself in the easy banter that Yaura and the Tzuri-kai fell into so naturally.
“Could be anything in the depths of this place,” Tzuri-kai continued. “Demons. Angry ogres. A stone wall not ten feet from our faces. A horde of filthy elves—no offense, miss.”
Faela’s fire flickered in her palm. A sudden spirit of adventure seized her. “We didn’t come to Jagjaw because we thought it would be easy or safe,” she declared suddenly. “There’s a job to be done, so we might as well get a move on and do it. If things really are as bad as the rumors say, then none of the clans are going to make themselves easy to find. All the same, we’ll explain that we’re only here to help and what will come of it will come of it.”
“Bold,” Yaura said with a hint of approval in her voice.
“Reckless,” Tzuri-kai replied. “But still, it’s barely mid-morning. We’ve not been awake for more than four or five hours. I’m not inclined to sit on the floor and try to sleep while the storm passes on.”
“Then it’s decided,” Faela said. “We move on.”
The darkness of the cave parted as Faela led their way forward. They did not encounter a stone wall ten feet from their faces, or any of the other things Tzuri-kai had suggested. What they did encounter was a sloping path that gradually descended downward in a spiraling pattern.
“Stay close to the wall of the cave,” Faela instructed, determined to take a position of leadership once and for all. Her stomach sank when a careless step nearly tumbled her over the edge of the stone path. Somehow not knowing if the fall would be for five feet or five miles was worse than if she knew it would be a deadly drop.
Tzuri-kai let out another string of curses as he hawked and spat. Faela didn’t look back, but judging from the noises he was making, it sounded as if he had walked face first into a spiderweb and was now trying to remove its silken threads from his bushy beard.
“Tzuri-kai,” Yaura said. “What can you tell us of your brothers in Jagjaw? If we do find a dwarven c
olony at the end of this path, can we expect they’ll be happy to see you?”
“If they be true-blooded dwarves, we’ve naught to fear,” Tzuri-kai declared. “I should think our elven Dragon should be an appropriate ambassador if we find an elven clan in the depths of the mountain.”
“And if it’s ogres that await us?”
“We’ll likely have no reason to fear them,” the dwarf responded. “The ogres are a cautious lot. They have a great love for their laws and procedures. If nothing else, we’ll have a chance to speak our piece before the decide to skewer us.”
Yaura nodded thoughtfully. “So then the true danger is if there are no people at all down here, but something worse.”
“That’s your department, isn’t it Shigata? I never judged a woman to be less than man, so when I see that silver thrygta on your sword I assume you know how to grip it with both hands and shove it through the head of whatever tries to claw us to shreds.”
“Indeed,” Yaura said. “Though it is customary to pay for such services. Tell me, dwarf, do you have gold or jewels hidden away under that unkempt excuse for a beard?”
“Only as much as you have teats hidden underneath your leather jerkin, wench.”
The descent didn’t last for long. After a brief, spiraling journey downward, the group reached another tunnel. Faela thought that it was pushing north, but in truth had to admit to herself that she had lost her sense of direction as they had descended.
“Do you hear that?” Yaura asked. Faela strained her ears against the darkness. She heard Tzuri-kai loosen his blade in its sheath. “Water,” the Shigata said. “Running water.”
“Where there’s water, there’s life,” Tzuri-kai said.
“But what kind of life can vary greatly. Especially if the water is muddy slosh found underneath a mountain.”
Gradually the tunnel expanded and gave way to a great yawning cavern. Faela expanded the fire as much as she dared, but still couldn’t see the ceiling even when a great jet of flame burned from her fingertips.
