“What is it?” she asked rather sharply as she yanked open the door.
Starkle, the little blue pixie, fluttered around the excited dwarf’s head. Obviously something extreme was happening. Still, Willa held out a hand to stop Dugak from coming in. Once the door was pulled shut behind her, she motioned for him to speak.
“Droves of dwarves,” the pixie said in a voice far too big for its size.
“It’s the might of Doon, Your Highness,” Dugak cut in over the fluttering blue gnat. “It seems they’ve come to answer your call after all.”
What in all the gods is he talking about? Is he drunk again? Willa wondered. Starkle must have seen her perplexed look and began trying to explain.
“Thousands of dwarves have come down out of the hills north of Jenkanta. They’re armed and prepared for battle.”
“Where did they come from?” Willa still didn’t grasp it. “There’s not a hundred dwarves left in the realm.”
“Oh, but there are,” Dugak said with a grin. He did a jump-skip in place, trying to contain his excitement. “Don’t you see? They came because you blew the Horn of Doon. They’ve come to answer your call for aid.”
Understanding replaced her confusion. Almost a year ago, when Pael’s undead army was standing outside the gates of Xwarda, she had blown the Horn of Doon, hoping to summon the dwarves to help them defend the Wardstone that the city is built upon. “They’re really late,” Willa said with a smile at the wonder of it.
“What should we tell them?” asked Starkle. “That we’ve no need of them. Should I send them back underground?”
Dugak swatted at the pixie as if he were a pesky insect. Luckily for Starkle the dwarf missed.
“Just because that battle is over doesn’t mean that there isn’t a need.” Dugak looked to his queen. Under his thick mass of beard, his chest was puffed out proudly. “Us dwarves are the ones who built this city in the first place. Who better to rebuild it?”
“I’m not going to put them to work, Dugak, unless they offer,” Willa said with a giggle at the silliness of the dwarven army coming out of the earth a whole year late. “Go welcome them, Dugak. That is an order. Explain to them what has happened and arrange a feast. No matter their tardiness, the return of the dwarves of Doon to Xwarda is a reason to celebrate.”
With an elaborate bow the dwarf turned and started away.
Starkle, now flying just out of arm’s reach, said, “The elves built Xwarda with the aid of the giants you dimwit dwarf. That was long before a dwarf ever set foot in this land.”
Queen Willa suppressed her amusement at the strange turn of events and retreated back into the sitting room. She thought it best to get Queen Rachel’s five thousand men committed as soon as possible. Maybe, just maybe, she could get some of the dwarves to go and help Mikahl and Jarrek too. Their legendary skills as fighters and builders would go far toward helping Wildermont raise itself out of the rubble. She would start working on that at the feast. Right now she still had Rachel’s offer to seal, and by the sound of the woman’s new sobbing, tactfully bringing the subject of soldiers back around wasn’t going to be easy.
***
General Spyra couldn’t have been more content. His young wife had arrived from Xwarda with the new troops Queen Willa had afforded the effort, and now two thousand men were on their way through the mountains to help King Jarrek. Dreen was as occupied as a city could be, and no viable threat was known. He didn’t have a concern beyond the lovely woman beside him.
Lady Mandary’s sparkling blue eyes twinkled, and her straw-colored ringlets dangled like ribbons of gold in the afternoon sun. The carriage ride had been her idea. She wanted to see as much of the Red City as she could. Spyra tried to explain to her that it was the same throughout the interior of the great red wall that surrounded Dreen. There were low, red block buildings surrounded by corrals and sheering yards, and as many grazing lots as there were homes. There were no towers or cathedrals, no spectacular landmarks, just wild-smelling functional stock pens and a few large taverns.
Spyra still found her interest in his work a pleasant surprise. She had always asked him of this and that, but now she seemed to want to know every detail of the High King’s plans. Spyra didn’t find this suspicious because Lady Mandary expertly catered to his ego. She kept him boasting of this, that, or the other. He found himself almost seeking her approval of the ideas that he and King Jarrek had been tossing around in Mikahl’s absence. When she learned that Mikahl might actually be in Westland, she hurried the tour, feigning lightheadedness. Of course the General rushed her back to the modest palace of Dreen. He hoped to get reacquainted with her in a more personal way after dinner, and getting her comfortable was of great importance to him. He had no idea that, once she locked herself in her chamber, she was going to use her witchy magic to confer with Queen Shaella. After all, Lady Mandary was one of the Dragon Queen’s favorite spies.
“Leave me for a while please,” Lady Mandary ordered her attendant when she was finally in her chamber. “I will be taking a nap and I do not want to be disturbed until dinner.”
“Yes, milady.” The servant woman had some doubts to her mistress’s sanity. Already she had seen the woman speaking into a bowl and had overheard several peculiar conversations when the lady was the only person in the room. She expected one of those to take place now, and hurried out to her own quarters. She didn’t want the ravings of the General’s wife to be any of her concern.
The single drop of blood that dripped from the vial into the basin of water seemed to stain it with abnormal potency. The liquid went from clear to pink to a deep thick crimson color in only a matter of moments. Once Lady Mandary was satisfied with the texture and color of the glossy red surface, her eyes rolled back into her head. She began to chant in rhythmic musical repetition while her hands danced at the ends of her outstretched arms. This would take awhile, she knew. Her queen wouldn’t be expecting this call.
***
The arrival of the red-robed priests of Kraw at Lakeside Castle in Westland happened with little fanfare. The four priests had little use for courtly pleasantries, and less for feasts and celebration. It was good that they didn’t expect much of a welcome, because Queen Shaella hadn’t bothered to prepare as much as a goblet of water to refresh them from their travels. The priests didn’t complain, but it seemed they didn’t understand why they were there. They didn’t know that Gerard was Kraw now. All they knew was that to serve their master, they had to serve her.
There was a bit of disagreement over this, but after the first prayer session, the priests began to understand. Gerard answered their questioning calls with perfect clarity by sucking the life out of one of them and commanding the others to follow Shaella’s every whim. It was impossible to argue when the dried up husk of a man was lying on the floor.
“Already one of my wizards has the Silver Skull of Zorellin in his possession,” she told them. “It is on the way here as we speak, and when it arrives we will use it to bring your Kraw out of the Nethers so that I can have my Gerard. But I do have another agenda that needs looking into while we wait.”
The priests’ first task was to make the High King aware of Princess Rosa’s presence in Pael’s tower, and set a trap for him. The trap, they determined, was the easiest part. They tried using Rosa’s fingertip to cast a drawing spell on Mikahl, but it didn’t work. Then they unpacked the library of spell books and journals they’d carried with them from the Isle of Borina, and spent the night scouring them for another way to draw their bait in. They didn’t find what they were looking for, but they settled their things into the comfortable gathering chamber they had been allotted and learned the reason why their first attempt had failed.
There had been an assumption. It had rendered the main component of the spell useless. It was this very component that they were now speaking about to Queen Shaella.
“What is it that you need to cast this spell?” asked Shaella. “I was told that the Princess’s finger
would do.”
“We need a piece of her to mark her as the bait,” one answered.
“And a piece of someone that he truly loves,” added another. “It seems we misjudged his feelings for her.”
“And the finger I already gave you?” Her tone had an edge to it. “You told me that you could draw him with that alone.”
“That was our mistake, Queen Shaella,” the third priest said. “We assumed that the High King loved Princess Rosa, but apparently that is not so. As it is, we need another piece of her, and a piece of someone he truly loves, to correctly cast the drawing spell.”
“Find another way then,” she spat. She could think of no one that Mikahl might love. The only one he was close to was Gerard’s brother. Hyden was at sea, still alive because of Flick’s weakness. She wasn’t that angry with Flick, though. He had served her cause for years and was bringing her a grand surprise. Even evil queens like to be surprised every now and then. She was a woman after all.
An itch presented itself in her mind, like an insect crawling across the inside of her skull. It was insistent. She hadn’t been expecting anyone to reach out to her, and thoughts of Flick’s spinelessness caused her to think that maybe he had lost possession of the skull. She knew firsthand that Hyden Hawk Skyler was the trickiest of bastards. Flick should have killed him when he had the chance.
“A bowl of water!” she ordered the nearest priest. He grabbed the finger bowl from the table and set it before her. It was small, but it would do. She snarled at another of them. “Come now, a drop of blood. I know you can recognize a simple spell of seeing.”
One of the priests nicked his finger with a dagger and let a few drops fall into the bowl. Shaella’s deft chanting turned the dingy liquid into the distorted image of Lady Mandary.
It came as a relief that it wasn’t Flick, and Shaella couldn’t help but smile at the plump girlish image of the old marsh crone that was looking back at her from the surface of the water.
“My Queen,” Lady Mandary said reverently. “I only disturbed you because there is something you should know.”
“What is it, love?” Shaella asked sweetly enough to put the woman at ease. “I have a bit of a problem here that you might be able to help me with anyway. Tell me what you’ve learned.”
“It’s the High King,” Lady Mandary said with a bit of alarm in her voice. “He is in Westland as we speak. He has been for some time, though my General has no idea why.”
“How many soldiers are with him?” Shaella asked suddenly. How could he have invaded without me hearing of it? It made no sense at all.
“No troops, my Queen. Only a handful of men are with him.”
“Maybe our spell worked after all,” one of the priests said to his fellows.
“Who was that?” Lady Mandary asked with concern. If she was found to be spying for Queen Shaella, even in a roundabout way, she could lose her head. She had a good reason to worry about whose ears might hear her words.
“Just a Borinian priest,” Shaella said. “I assure you, the last thing on his mind is who, or where you are. Is Mikahl after the Princess?”
“The General isn’t sure why he’s there.”
“Tell me, dear,” Queen Shaella said, “who does that glorified squire truly love? We’ve learned that he doesn’t love the Princess just yet.”
“He hardly knows the girl,” Lady Mandary replied. “How could he love her? He loves his friends dearly, and King Jarrek too. No doubt he cares about the boy, Phenilous.”
“Wait!” Shaella snapped so loudly that the priests, as well as her spy, jumped from the sharpness of her words. “Oh, Mandary,” Queen Shaella giggled. “I think you’ve helped me more than you’ll ever know. You’ll reach me again if you hear anything else, won’t you?”
Shaella didn’t even wait for a reply before tapping the bowl of bloody water, causing a ring of ripples to evaporate the image on its surface.
“So you require a component that is a piece of someone he loves?” Shaella asked the priests with a smile on her beautiful scarred face.
“Yes, yes, Queen Shaella, we do.”
“And once this piece of that person is taken from them, it no longer lives. Is this correct?” The priests glanced at each other for reassurance, but finding no flaw in her reasoning, they nodded.
“Then this piece of someone the High King loves doesn’t have to come from a living body, does it?”
“There is nothing in the wording of the spell that requires the piece to come from someone alive,” one of the priests answered. “We are primarily necromancers. Most of our spells deal with the dead.”
“I think it’s time for me to designate a royal gravedigger,” Queen Shaella gave a haughty laugh. “For everyone who has heard Mikahl’s tale knows that there is no one he loved greater than his father. We will just have to dig up old King Balton’s corpse and take a piece of him.”
“And another piece of the Princess, Queen Shaella,” one of the priests reminded eagerly.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
It was hard for Talon to follow Phen and his captors through the thick overgrowth, but the hawkling managed it. Hyden watched on in helpless fury as Flick’s party made their way toward a part of the island that was nowhere near where the Seawander was anchored. He let Oarly lead them. They were headed back to the Seawander so that they could sail around the island and pick up Phen. Hyden didn’t want to lose sight of the boy for a single second. He was concentrated on Talon’s vision. It was up to the dwarf to get them through the jungle. Deck Master Biggs followed them. Oarly had removed the crossbow bolt from the man’s back, but the traveling was taking its toll on the seaman, as was the humidity. The Deck Master’s breath was coming in great heavy gasps.
To Hyden’s great horror, just as the sun was beginning to set, Flick and his troop of grumbling freaks came out of the hills onto a gravelly shoreline. Their ship was anchored a short way from the island and a long gang plank led from it directly into the shallows. A dozen zard-men, all armored in studded leather vests emblazoned with Queen Shaella’s lightning star, scurried about. Hyden’s heart sank. He, Oarly, and Biggs still had a long hike between them and the Seawander, and that was only if the Deck Master could keep up.
A commotion at the zard ship drew Talon’s full attention, and Hyden watched. A streaking bolt of jagged yellow light leapt from Flick’s hand toward one of the breed giants. Was Phen trying to escape? Hyden wondered. He couldn’t tell what happened next due to the flash burn the wizard’s spell caused in the hawkling’s eyes.
Shouting and hissing from the ship could be heard, and then a painful shriek of boyish terror that could have only come from Phen.
Talon made out the stumbling shape of the breed giant that had been holding Phen. The man-beast staggered into the cover of the jungled hillside. The other breed giant was lying sprawled across the rocky beach. Hyden was confused. He couldn’t see Phen anywhere, but the bloody twisted form of a lizard-man lay not too far from the smoldering breed giant’s body. Were they attacked?
Talon’s flash blindness was clearing, but the boy was still nowhere to be seen. Not on shore, not on the deck of the zard ship that was starting to ease away from the island now; not anywhere.
In the dying light of dusk, Hyden could see Flick standing on the deck, fastening the dragon collar around his neck with smug satisfaction. The wide eyed-expression that came over the wizard’s face told Hyden that the link between man and wyrm had been established, and he warned Talon to be wary of air-born threats.
The Silver Skull had been quickly taken below deck. Talon followed the ship for a short way as it headed out to the deep sea, but since Phen didn’t appear to be aboard the craft, the hawkling circled back and began searching the shoreline and the edges of the foliage. Hyden’s heart was clenched with fear. To his utter dismay, not a single sign of Phen could be found. To make things worse, when the moon was high in the sky, a storm came blowing in, and a heavy tropical rain began to fall.
Hyden had Talon fly from the shoreline around the island in the rain to find the Seawander. Once it was located, he explained to Oarly how to direct Captain Trant to the site of Phen’s disappearance. He wanted Oarly and Biggs to go on to the ship while he went back the other way and searched for the boy.
“What was it the boy said about finding what had been invisible to us in his books?” Oarly asked while Hyden was lightening his packs. Hyden took his elven longbow and a small pack of supplies, but that was all.
“I’m not sure what he was talking about,” Hyden said absently. His thoughts were fixed on finding Phen. If the boy was alive, Hyden was determined to locate him. If he was dead, then Hyden would lay eyes on the corpse before he gave up.
“If he lives…” Oarly started, but stopped himself before he could finish the sentence. After a tug at his beard he spoke again. “Phen is a smart lad. He will find shelter and ride this storm out. You should rest, Sir Hyden Hawk. You’ve been through an ordeal. Your clearest wit would serve you better than this haste. You’ll not find anything but trouble traipsing across this strange island in the dark.”
“Aye,” Hyden agreed. “ ’Tis true I could use some sleep, but even if I lay down and closed my eyes, no sleep would come.” Hyden wiped the rain, or maybe a tear of worry, from his eyes. “I’ll not let him sit out there shivering in the cold, alone, and possibly injured, Oarly,” Hyden said as he started into the dark wet tangle. After a few paces he had disappeared completely. Oarly heard Hyden’s voice calling back to him, “Just get to the ship and have Trant set sail as quickly as you can. Talon will let you know if I find any trouble.”
“I will!” Oarly called back, but he was certain that the sound of the storm had swallowed his voice before it reached Hyden’s ears.
Hyden set a crisp pace for himself and charged on through the night. Talon had to land frequently, so that he could shiver the accumulated wetness his feathers absorbed as he flew around the area where Phen was last seen. Hyden cursed the rain. Any tracks the youngster might have left would be washed away. He turned the scene over and over again in his head. Why had Flick struck down the breed giant with his lightning spell? Had the breed tried to protect Phen? A horrid thought crossed his mind then. What if the breed giant had tried to hurt Phen? To keep his word, the wizard Flick might have killed his own man. Mikahl had told him that the breed giants were notorious eaters of man flesh. Nothing made any sense—the dead zard-man, the other giant staggering into the foliage.
Kings, Queens, Heroes, & Fools Page 25
