How did it get in here? he wondered, positive that Walter had closed the door firmly when he had left. He ran to the door in hopes of seeing where it had run off to, and collided with Leander.
“Arrrgh!” Timothy screamed, startled by the large man’s sudden appearance.
“What in the name of the seven mystics is wrong?” Leander demanded.
Timothy looked past him. “Did you see it? Did you see the … the animal that came from here? It was in my room and I chased it out. I don’t know what it was.”
Leander looked behind him and then back to the boy. “I saw no such thing,” he said, placing his hands on Timothy’s shoulders. “And I’ve been standing out here enjoying the night air for quite some time now.”
“But—”
“I heard you screaming and came at once to find out what was the matter.”
Timothy looked up into Leander’s eyes. “But I saw it. I tried to catch it in this blanket.” He held up his bedclothes to show the archmage.
Leander shook his head. “It was a nightmare, boy,” he explained. “Likely brought on by your change of surroundings and the dire importance of our mission here. Nothing more.”
For the briefest of instants, Timothy almost believed his friend, thinking that perhaps he had imagined it all, still in the grip of sleep. But then he saw the jagged rips in the blanket, obviously made by very sharp claws.
Chapter Three
It wasn’t the most restful of nights.
After the business with the animal intruder in his hut, and Leander’s insistence that it had all been part of an elaborate dream—Timothy had even brushed off the rips in the blanket as something he might have done himself in the throes of a nightmare—Timothy attended a team meeting to address the following day’s goals. That was followed by a hearty meal served in honor of the new arrivals. Later that evening, when he had at last gone to bed, he had slept restlessly, fearing the return of the mysterious animal.
In the morning Timothy arose groggily from his bed. Outside his hut there was a metal trough of water where he splashed his face and attempted to clear away the cobwebs from his mind. The water was cold, and exactly what he needed to wake himself up. He grabbed the towel hanging on a peg outside his door and headed to the next hut over, drying his face and hands on the coarse material.
There was no response to his knocks on Verlis’s door, so Timothy opened it a crack to peer inside. No one was there. A flicker of concern went through him. From the look of the room, it did not appear that the Wurm had ever entered it. So where had Verlis passed the night?
“Ah, you’re finally up!”
Timothy was startled by the voice and turned quickly, only to relax the moment he saw Walter Telford approaching, a steaming cup of brew in one hand and a piece of fruit in the other.
“Good morning to you,” Timothy said. “Are we the first to rise?”
Walter’s laugher boomed. “Are you serious, lad?” he asked. “The entire camp’s been up since the first rays of dawn.” He threw his arm around Timothy’s shoulder and steered him away from Verlis’s hovel. “We let you sleep in today, but come tomorrow, you’ll be expected to rise with the rest of us.” He gave the boy a friendly squeeze. “Can I interest you in a bit of breakfast before you begin your workday?”
Timothy grabbed his satchel from his quarters and headed to the dining area with Walter. There, he had something to drink and some dried fruit—not the elaborate breakfast he had come to expect at SkyHaven, but surprisingly quite satisfying.
When he’d finished eating, Timothy and Walter walked over to a larger structure that served as the camp’s command center. Timothy entered the building and was shocked to find the workers and all the Parliament members waiting inside. Leander was seated in a chair up front, and nodded in greeting as the boy entered.
Walter placed a hand upon his shoulder. “So, now that you’ve had a good night’s sleep and a bit of breakfast, how do you feel about sharing your plans for the digging machine?”
Timothy looked up at the man. “Do you mean they’re all here to listen to me?” he asked incredulously. Sure, Parliament had asked him to come up with designs for the Burrower, but he never imagined his involvement would be much more than that.
“Who else?” Walter asked. “You’re the creator, the one who knows the craft. We’re just the builders.”
Timothy glanced around the room. “I’d like to help build it as well.”
Walter smiled. “And we welcome your assistance.” He directed Timothy toward a small table that had been set up at the front of the room. “Now why don’t you tell us about this fabulous machine of yours?”
And Timothy did just that, opening his satchel and revealing the many drawings and diagrams he had made since first being asked to create the Burrower. He was a bit nervous at first, but he went through each of his drawings and blueprints, often leaving the table to walk among those in attendance. Some had questions about the construction of the craft, and he was more than happy to answer them. He told them about the prototype he had built back at SkyHaven and how it had worked exactly as hoped, and he told them he would apply what he had learned in building the first craft to the creation of the much larger Burrower.
When he was finished, Walter conjured a floating map to show the audience where they intended to begin mining the Malleum. “Thanks to some documents Grandmaster Maddox uncovered and a study of the rock formations in the region, our geologists have determined that this area here is where we’ll find the most success.” The project manager circled an area upon the magical map with his index finger and the spot immediately turned a brightly glowing red, highlighting the zone for all to see.
“With Timothy’s fabulous machine to help us, we can extract the Malleum, and hopefully strengthen our defenses against the impending invasion.”
Walter stepped back, allowing everyone in the room a clear view of the mystical map. He had another cup of brew in hand and was sipping it gingerly as he eyed the audience seated before him.
“Are there any questions for me or for our great inventor here?” Walter gestured toward the boy, and Timothy could not help but smile. He liked this feeling of importance.
A Parliament member raised his hand and stood.
“This gathering recognizes Grandmaster Lokus of the Chakraz Order,” Walter said, directing him to speak.
Lokus smoothed the wrinkles from his golden robes before speaking in a high, singsong voice. “The Malleum is crucial to our defense. It can withstand both the fires and the weapons of the Wurm and will give us an edge in battle. But we cannot begin the process of its extraction without the benefit of this digging device. When can we expect the building of this … Burrower to begin?”
Walter looked toward Timothy. “I think our designer and inventor would be the best person to answer that question,” he said. “What do you think, lad? When can we begin construction on the Burrower?”
All eyes were on him again, and momentarily, Timothy’s mind went blank. This was too much; from outcast to resident expert in a matter of days was more than he could handle. He saw Caiaphas in the gathering and felt a little better. Then he spotted Leander in the front row, and the great man smiled ever so slightly, urging him on with a look that said, Go ahead boy, show them what you know.
Timothy glanced down at his designs and, before he was even aware, he was speaking. “Well, since we have all the materials we need to put the Burrower together, I guess it all depends on the area where we’ll be digging.” He looked up from his notes and stared at the floating map. “I’d like to take a look at the dig site first so I can make some last-minute adjustments to the basic design before we begin its construction.” Timothy shrugged. “After that, I guess it’s only a matter of how fast we can work. With all the parts available, a matter of days.”
Walter downed the remainder of his brew and waved his hand through the floating map, causing it to dissipate in a crackle of mystical energy. “Then I think we should g
ive Timothy a tour, and we can begin in earnest.”
Timothy agreed, and within moments the entire encampment was following Walter and his assistants to the excavation site. Timothy walked with Leander at the back of the line and noted with concern that the Grandmaster was moving much more slowly these days.
Leander stopped suddenly, swaying on his feet.
“Are you all right, Leander?” Timothy asked, his brow knitting with concern. “We can stop and rest if you need to.”
Leander chuckled. “I’ll rest when I’m dead,” he said.
“Don’t even suggest such a thing,” Timothy cried, horrified.
“It’s just an expression,” the Grandmaster explained. “No need to get upset. And do you know who taught it to me?”
Timothy shook his head, but had a vague suspicion as to who it was.
“Your father.” As Leander spoke, he let Timothy lead him to a large rock and leaned against it to catch his breath. The boy sat down beside him.
“It’s an awful saying,” Timothy said.
Leander chuckled again and threw his arm around the boy. “Come now, Tim, no need to be upset. All it means is that there are far too many things to accomplish in life—that we must try to do each and every one of them, to live life to its fullest.”
They fell silent then, the two of them sitting on the large stone in the cold, barren wasteland that was Tora’nah. The landscape had never seemed as bleak and depressing as it did at that very moment, and Timothy wanted nothing more than to change the subject and lighten the mood.
“Did you see how the guild members listened to me this morning?” he asked. “Looking at my drawings—asking me questions. Can you believe it? They were asking me questions.”
Leander slowly stood. “Times are changing, Timothy,” the Grandmaster said. “And you are a very important part of that change.” He stretched his large frame with a contented grunt, looking healthier than he had in days. “Whether they care to admit it or not.”
Timothy stood as well, ready to rejoin the others. “That must really infuriate them,” he said, smiling.
“That, my boy, is an understatement.”
They both started to laugh, continuing on the path that would take them to the Malleum excavation site, their mood much lighter. They were nearing the top of the hill that would take them down into the valley when they heard the first of the screams.
Screams, followed by the roar of an enraged Wurm.
Timothy quickened his pace, sprinting to the top of the hill. What he saw in the valley below took his breath away and made his heartbeat quicken. Verlis was attacking the Parliament expeditionary force, flying above their heads, liquid fire spewing from his screaming mouth. The members of Parliament were in a panic, running to hide among pillars of gray stone that protruded from the rocky earth, as the enraged Wurm soared above them.
“Verlis, what are you doing!” Timothy cried, running down the slope. He reached the bottom, running among the great stones that provided hiding places for the various guild members.
“I knew this would happen!” Timothy heard one of them snarl as he passed.
“The Wurm can’t be trusted,” said another. “This one and his tribe are just as dangerous as the ones trying to break through Alhazred’s Divide!”
Timothy did his best to ignore their hurtful words, concentrating on reaching his troubled friend and figuring out what could have caused this horrible turn of events. A blast of fire erupted nearby and Timothy leaped back, falling onto his backside. He gazed up at the fearsome visage of a Wurm caught in the grip of madness.
“Verlis, what’s wrong?” Timothy screamed, but doubted that the Wurm could hear him as he flew overhead.
“Get to cover, Tim!” somebody called from close by, and he turned to see Walter emerging from behind one of the towering stones. “He’s gone mad!”
Walter darted to him, keeping his eyes on the sky, and tried desperately to take Timothy to safety. “Come with me.” They could still hear the flapping of the Wurm’s wings from somewhere close by.
“What happened?” Timothy demanded, pulling his arm from Walter’s grip, refusing to be taken anywhere.
“I haven’t a clue,” the project manager explained breathlessly, afraid for his safety. “The Wurm was here when we arrived and when he asked what we were doing and I explained that this was where we would begin our digging for the Malleum, he became incensed, screaming that we are heartless monsters, and then he attacked us.”
“ ‘Heartless monsters,’ ” Timothy repeated, mulling the words over, trying to understand. He gazed at their surroundings, at the odd stone structures sticking up from the ground, and then at the cliff face that rose up toward the south, dotted with strange rock formations. “It has to be something about this place.”
Walter was trying to get him to leave again, to seek better cover, but Timothy wanted no part of it. “Let me talk to him. Verlis is my friend. He’ll listen to me.”
He darted out into the open, gazing up into the sky. “Verlis, it’s Timothy!” he cried, hands cupped to his mouth. “Please, tell me what’s wrong!”
Fearing for the boy’s safety, Walter chased after him. “You’re going to be killed,” the man cried, reaching out to take hold of the boy’s arm.
A sizzling torrent of fire rained down from the sky, driving Walter back. Timothy flinched away from the scorching hot air and looked through the billowing smoke to see the fearsome shape of Verlis as he touched down upon the ground before him.
“Run, Tim!” Walter cried, struggling to stand, his clothes singed and smoldering.
The Wurm then turned its attentions to the man. “Defiler of the dead!” Verlis growled, and stalked toward him, menace in his gaze.
“Verlis, no!” Timothy cried, but the Wurm was not listening.
Walter’s hands began to glow feebly with a spell of defense, but Timothy could sense that it would have little effect upon the enraged Wurm. This was not the sort of magic for which Walter had been trained. Timothy snatched up a rock and was preparing to throw it at Verlis’s head—to prevent him from doing something that he would most certainly regret later—when the air around the Wurm began to crackle with the release of vast amounts of magical energy.
The great stone fell from his grasp as he watched as Verlis was suddenly frozen in his tracks, his body encased in a bubble of shimmering, supernatural force. Verlis struggled against the confines of his magical entrapment, but to little avail.
Leander emerged from the garden of tall stones, representatives of Parliament trailing nervously behind him.
“Kill it before it has the chance to escape!” one of them cried out, her voice raised in panic.
“I’ll do no such thing,” Leander replied in a commanding voice. “There has been some kind of misunderstanding here, and I intend to find out what has caused it.”
Verlis dropped to his knees within the translucent sphere as Timothy approached.
“Verlis?” Timothy called, kneeling upon the stony earth, just far enough away from the bubble of magic so as to not disrupt it. “What happened here? What’s made you so angry?”
Leander strode closer as well, his hands still crackling with the residue from the spell he had just cast. “Explain yourself.”
The Wurm kneeled within the sphere, his great horned head hanging low to his chest. It appeared that his rage had substantially subsided.
“They were going to dig here,” he said, his voice tinged with indignation. “Here, of all places…” Verlis lifted his head to look at them, and Timothy saw that his friend’s eyes swam with raw emotion.
“I could not stand the thought of it being desecrated in such a way. It cannot be allowed. I apologize for my outburst, but this place must be protected.”
And then Timothy understood. He gazed at the forest of tall stones and realized their powerful significance.
“Your ancestors—the Dragons of Old—they’re buried here, aren’t they?”
Ve
rlis nodded. “As are many who fell in the war with the mages,” he explained. “Before our banishment to Draconae. These cairns mark many graves. And there are far more tombs in the mountainside.”
With one claw he pointed to the south, to the steep hill Timothy had noticed before. It rose up into a craggy cliff face that was covered with intricate rock formations.
“The idea of their remains being disturbed was too much for me to bear.” Verlis shook his head from side to side, pulling his wings tighter about him. “I lost control, and for that I am sorry. I beg your forgiveness.”
The magical sphere surrounding the Wurm dissipated as quickly as it had appeared, and the members of Parliament immediately began to grumble their disapproval.
“Do you think that wise, Maddox?” one of them asked in a tone laced with caution.
“Verlis was caught up in the emotion of the situation,” Leander explained. “He was protecting the graves of his ancestors, just as any of us would have done. I don’t believe we have reason to fear him.”
The regal beast nodded slowly as he rose to his feet. “I mean none of you any harm.”
A large woman with a round, ruddy face, clad from head to toe in robes the color of mud, pushed her way to the front of the crowd. “Then we can still assume that we’ll be digging for the Malleum here?” she asked. Other members of the expedition came to stand with her, as if challenging Verlis to react.
“But…” the great Wurm sadly began. He held his tongue and balled his clawed hands into fists at his sides. He said no more, seething in silence.
Timothy could stand it no more. “No!” he said loudly.
They all looked at him quizzically.
“No, Master Cade?” the ruddy woman asked condescendingly. She looked to the others for support.
“You heard me,” he said again. “No. We will not be digging for Malleum here.”
A gasp went up from the gathering, and he felt Verlis’s eyes upon him. “Timothy, please,” he begged. “Do not become involved.”
The boy did not listen. “Walter,” he called, walking around Verlis to address the project manager. The man’s clothing was a bit singed here and there, and covered with dirt and dust, but he seemed otherwise fine; for that, Tim was glad. “From your geologists’ reports and research, are there any other areas you think might be ripe for Malleum mining?”
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