The Unwilling Ambassador (Book 3)

by Heidi Willard

  Canto scoffed. "What trouble could those things cause?"

  Ned chuckled. "Quite a bit, by the news I heard some months back. The dwarves are without lights during the night except that from their forges because the Helpers refuse to light their houses, but come bedtime the dwarven rooms are lit up as bright as day. The whole city of Dirth is in a state of insomnia."

  "Has the entire dwarven race become soft? Why haven't they put the Helpers back in their place?" Canto asked him.

  "What are Helpers?" Ruth interrupted. Fred and Pat were also eager to hear an explanation.

  "Relatively useless orbs but for the light they emit," Canto replied.

  Ned chuckled and turned to Ruth. "The Helpers of the dwarves are known as will-o-the-wisps by other races. They call themselves Stars-"

  "Humph, nothing but lights for dwarves," Canto insisted.

  Ned scowled at him and continued. "They put off a strong, soft glow from their bodies, and in the wilder parts of the world they're placed in jars and used as lanterns."

  "And fed for their services," Canto added.

  "Are you quite finished?" Ned asked him. Canto grumbled and then silenced himself. "For the dwarves, they are used as lanterns and to light their forges. No flame stays alive as long or as hot as one lit by a Star."

  "So what are they griping about now?" Canto asked him. "Better food and treatment? That's their usual demands."

  "I hadn't heard what the problems were about, but the stone will complicate any bad blood in the area as it did in Galaron," Ned replied. "The people were consumed by Canavar's influence while that rock stood in the city, and I hope to see Galaron rebuilt with a rosier disposition."

  "Are you saying these stones affect the surrounding people?" Pat spoke up.

  Ned nodded. "I am. They have a very old and powerful magic, and Canavar's dark character seeps from them because of his calling and using them. It won't help the feud between the dwarves and Stars."

  "Helpers," Canto corrected him.

  "Stars," Ned countered.

  "Helpers."

  "Stars."

  Pat held up her hands. "Call them what you wish, we will all know what you're talking about," she suggested.

  Ned coughed into his fist. "Yes, well, as I was saying, the stone will be a nuisance-"

  "-like those Helpers," Canto grumbled.

  "-and we will have to be our most diplomatic if we're to find the ancient item and destroy the stone," Ned finished.

  "Doesn't that book give you some clue to its whereabouts?" Percy asked him.

  Ned pulled the book from his cloak and opened it. "It only says the items were hidden near the center of each region. Fortunately that was always near a settlement or city, and we may rely on legends and stories to lead us to the treasures."

  "Does it say what they look like? It would help to know what we're searching for," Percy added.

  Ned closed the book and shook his head. "No, only that each item resonates with the stone of its region."

  "That's not much to go on," Canto grumbled.

  "Then we had better get some rest so we're well prepared for the treasure hunt when we reach Dirth," Ned suggested.

  "How far is it?" Fred wondered.

  "Four day's hard ride from here," Canto replied. "The mountains make the road dangerous to travel during the winter, but we should only have to worry about flash floods from the rivers that flow along the mountain roads."

  Ned stood and rubbed his butt; he winced at the sore muscles. "If we were not so much in a hurry this would be a wonderfully laid-back adventure."

  "And the world would collapse around us if we didn't hurry," Canto argued.

  Ned smiled and shuffled over to his bed. "Which means it's bedtime so we can hurry along tomorrow."

  Fred lay down on his blankets and pulled off his coat to use it as an extra covering. He remembered the cut from the undead creatures, and inspected the damage. There wasn't any damage. The tears were gone. Ned noticed Fred's confused expression and chuckled. "If you're looking for tears you won't find any. The cloth repairs itself, except in extreme damage, and has saved me more than once from revealing my birthday suit to the world."

  "What an extraordinary coat," Percy complimented. "Perhaps you should patent the design."

  "The design would be too tempting for less scrupulous individuals," Ned countered. He noticed Sins staring at him and bowed his head. "Not to include you in such company."

  The group went to sleep except for Ruth, who offered herself as the night guard for her human companions. Dawn broke the next day and they hurried north toward the rocky home of the dwarves. The plains and hills were replaced with high, peaked mountains and craggy bluffs. The tall willows slowly morphed into shorter, stalky pine trees, and a white-rapids river sprang up on their right. They stopped for the night along the road, and Ruth took guard as before while her companions slept beneath their blankets. She sat on the outskirts of the fire ring listening and looking for any trouble.

  Trouble came at midnight when the night was darkest. Her pointed ears picked up soft rustling sounds in the forest that were too large to be small, cute, fuzzy animals. Her bright eyes watched the thick mess of pine trees for movement, and she noticed shadows flit between the thin trunks. A deep voice drifted out of the woods in a language she didn't understand, but had heard before. It was the same speech used by Cousin Michael when he read from the dark book of spells. She jumped up and raised the alarm. "Everyone, wake up!" she cried to her companions.

  A dark, thin rope of magic shot out from the trees and wrapped around her like a coiled snake. Ruth fell to the ground as her companions sat up. Pat's bleary eyes widened and she scrambled out from beneath her sleeping covers. "Ruth!" she cried out.

  Pat and Fred rushed to their friend's side while at the same time there was more chanting from the woods. More ropes flew from the trees and trapped them. A dozen darkly robed figures stepped out of the trees, and Ned scowled when he saw one held a black book in his pale hand. That person pulled back their hood and revealed himself as a man of sixty with gray hair at the temples and sharp, dark eyes. "Don't bother freeing them, castor," the stranger told Ned. The priests took their weapons and stuffed them into a strangely pale leather bag. This is, all except for Fred's weapon, which they ignored. It was only two pieces of a broken stick. "The bonds will only grow tighter and your companions will be crushed."

  The other figures swooped in and took charge of the others. "Cousin Fingle, there's one missing," one of the cloaked guards informed the leader.

  Cousin Fingle was the man who held the book, and he saw where his follower pointed; a bed lay empty. Everyone, including the companions, whipped their heads around. Sins was the missing companion. The fleeting respect Canto had gained for the assassin vanished.

  Cousin Fingle gestured to the empty bed. "Where is the one who slept in this bed?" he questioned them.

  Ned shrugged. "I guess the bed ate him."

  Fingle smirked and snapped his fingers. More priests emerged from the woods, and they had the group's horses in hand. A roar came from Fluffy, and the beast crashed through the camp running over many of the hooded figures. Fingle opened the book, spoke a few incantations and the strands of darkness whipped out of the pages. They wrapped around Fluffy's paws and hogtied him. The cantankus skidded to the ground and whimpered. "Leave that beast here, the bindings will hold him until daybreak. Perhaps he'll feed one of the mountain bears," Fingle instructed his men. "Gather up the rest of them and let us return to the sanctuary."

  CHAPTER 8

  The three roped companions were pulled up by the strands and shoved into line with their friends. The priests lit lanterns and pushed their captives forward into the woods. For an hour they were marched along a near-invisible path over rocky rocks and rooty roots until the trail opened to a large clearing. By the light of the clear sky and lanterns the companions made out a stone temple built atop an enormous flat-topped rectangular boulder the size of half a ci
ty block. Winding stone steps with lit torches on either side led up to thick wooden doors, and the walls were made from smaller, filed boulders to make a seamless fit. Priests in hoods patrolled the top of the walls, and behind them rose up a glass dome that signified the place of prayer and meditation. Smaller barracks sat to their left on the forest floor, and were hewn from the nearby trees.

  Fingle led the group up the winding steps and the doors opened to reveal a small courtyard with gardens on either side of a pebble path. Past the gardens was another pair of wooden doors that led into the domed structure. The prisoners were marched into the building, and they saw that beneath the dome was a large, relatively empty room with darkly painted walls. There were piles of prayer mats on the walls to either side of them, and a huge pedestal and deep saucer carved from black marble sat at the very back of the space. A tall flame burned inside the saucer, and a few attendants poured oils of libations into the flames. The only sources of light for the room were the flame and the glass dome above them, so the room was gloomy and dark.

  Fingle turned around to his captives and waved his hand. The black ropes fell from the young ones, and Fred had clear access to his staff. The only problem was he didn't know any spell that would get them out of this mess. There was nothing to fling at their captives except the harmless mats, and he wasn't sure about turning humans into dolls.

  "Leave us, but remain at the doors," Fingle instructed his fellow priests.

  Fred noticed that Pat was aghast at the decor of the room. "What blasphemy have you made here?" she asked the priest in an accusing voice.

  "Blasphemy?" Fingle repeated. "We merely follow the will of our lord, the dark fire god Phaeton. Like all of his temples we have dedicated an eternal flame in his honor." He indicated the saucer and flame.

  Pat vehemently shook her head. "But Phaeton isn't like this. He wishes only to heal the world, and would never want a temple so dark nor priests who used dark magic," she objected. "He is a god of purification-"

  "-and such a god purifies by destruction," Fingle interrupted. "Were you not taught that there are two sides to the flame?" He raised his hands to the room. "We keep this room dark to be closer to his light, and we use magic to thwart the enemies of our god."

  "A very interesting religious lecture, but do you mind telling us why you dragged us here?" Ned asked him.

  "Some weeks past one of our own, a Cousin Michael, went to Galaron on the bidding of its king," Fingle told them.

  "And at the bidding of gold," Canto mumbled, having been told of that adventure by Ned.

  "We didn't receive any messages from him and sent others to hear what had happened. They found the city in ruins and occupied by the undead." Fingle glanced from one of their faces to the next. "Our priests reported back that there was a large stone in the city that glowed with an old power, and when I myself went to investigate I witnessed your victory over the undead and the stone."

  "We had an audience?" Ned spoke up. "If I had known I would have tried harder to be the hero." Pat rolled her eyes, and Fred wished he could have traded places during the fight.

  Fingle scowled at Ned. "What we wish to know is how you defeated those creatures, and if you have any information about Cousin Michael. He held a valuable relic of ours that needs returned."

  Ned's humor slipped off his face. "Then I'm sorry to disappoint you, but Cousin Michael is dead and the book burnt with him. He used magic he couldn't hope to control, and that which was tainted by Canavar. Do you have any dealings with that particular lord?"

  "How did this happen?" Fingle demanded to know, ignoring the question lodged at him.

  "He obeyed King Stephen's order to raise the dead, but he misjudged the spell," Ned told him. "Instead of resurrecting the dead king an army arose. They killed him, and destroyed the book." Ned gave the priest a careful look. "Where did you acquire such a book?"

  Fingle was too upset with the information to answer. He moved over and paced the floor in front of the eternal flame with his hands clasped behind his back. "A curse on that fool's soul," Fingle muttered.

  "That's a fine way to speak of your priests, especially when they merely followed your commands to perform the spell the king requested," Ned countered.

  Fingle whipped his head to Ned. "You were there when it happened, castor?"

  Ned raised an eyebrow. "The name is Ned," he corrected him.

  The priest ignored him. "If you were there than why didn't you save him?" Fingle's eyes narrowed. "Are you an enemy of our Lord Phaeton?" His eyes fell on Ruth, was who in her gargoyle form. "You befriend those who are impure before his eyes."

  "I'm an enemy of Canavar, and any who use his spells for their own gain," Ned replied.

  Canto impatiently snorted and stepped forward. "Enough of this talk. If yer going to kill us be done with it," he demanded.

  "I won't waste a simple death on non-believers," Fingle flippantly replied as he scowled down at the dwarf. "The eternal flame needs lives to rejuvenate, and your group will work very well for that."

  Pat, Fred and Ruth's mouths dropped together. "You're sacrificing us to Phaeton?" Pat exclaimed.

  Fingle was surprised by their surprise. "Why of course. Phaeton needs human sacrifices whose bones are fed to the fire to renew its strength."

  "Bones?" Fred repeated. "What happens to the rest of us?"

  "That is given to the priests to consume and give them the same strength," Fingle told them.

  The color drained out of Fred's face. They'd stumbled into the clutches of a cannibalistic cult of zealot dark Phaeton worshipers. Fred raised his arm and his fingers wrapped around his stick. Fingle raised his arm above his head and snapped his fingers; nothing happened. He glanced at the door behind the captives and snapped his fingers again. There wasn't a peep from his followers. Fingle clapped his hands and received the same result of lots of nothing. "Are you fools deaf?" he called to them. The doors slowly opened and two priests stood in the doorway. Fingle scowled at them. "Take these prisoners to be washed and-"

  The priests had blank expressions on their faces, and they slowly fell forward onto the floor as stiff as boards. Behind them stood a tall, cloaked figure who's dark eyes glanced over the group. "Sins!" Percy exclaimed.

  The assassin strode toward them full of confidence. That is, until his entrance was interrupted by a howl and screams. A dozen priests ran up the stairs past Sins and wildly pointed behind them. "The beast is attacking us!" one of them screamed. "He's destroying the barracks!"

  Fingle pulled his men off his arms where they clung and shook them. "Beast? What beast?"

  Fred's eyes lit up and a smile crossed his face. "Fluffy!" he yelled. "In here!"

  There was another roar, more screaming, and the sound of cracking wood. Sins jumped out of the way in time to avoid being ran over by Fluffy, who barreled into the room with his tongue out and his tail wagging. Fluffy saw the captives and raced over to them, knocking aside a few priests like a bowling ball nicking pins. The cantankus slammed into Fred, pushed him to the floor and covered him in slobber.

  "A beast in the sanctuary! I will not stand for this!" Fingle screeched. He pulled out his black book and Ned paled.

  "Time to leave, everyone!" Ned yelled to his companions.

  "What about our weapons?" Pat countered. Sins held up the pink bag. "Never mind," she added.

  The group punched and kicked their way through a dozen arriving priests and reached the doors when Fingle began his recitation. The dark strings whipped out of the book and sped toward them. Ned, with his staff once more in hand, was at the back and he whipped around to face the darkness. He flung out his fireballs, and those collided with the heads of the dark rope in a brilliant flash of light. Fingle spoke again and dozens of more ropes shot toward them. Ned countered with his fireballs, but a few of the dark strands slipped through behind their destroyed brethren. They wrapped around Ned and pulled his staff from his hands.

  Fred and Ruth noticed Ned's distress and rushed to h
is aid. Ruth used her claws to battle the ropes that held the staff while Fred took out his own weapon from his waist and whacked it against the ropes. They dissipated and Fred ended up giving Ned a good thwack on the ribs. The master glared at his apprentice. "Perhaps a little more care next time," Ned scolded him while he clutched his ribs.

  "Please help!" Ruth yelled at them. The ropes were winning the tug-of-war and dragging both the staff and her to Fingle.

  The two men jumped at her. Ned grabbed her waist and Fred grabbed Ned's waist, and they pulled her back. Their other companions, noticing their disappearance, rushed back into the hall and grabbed one another in a conga line of assistance. Fluffy bounded back in with another group of zealots behind him. Pat rolled her eyes. "Don't these guys ever stop?" she exclaimed.

  Ned glanced over his shoulder at Fred. "What are you doing? Use your staff to free mine!"

  Fred blinked. "Oh, right." He let go of Ned's waist to get around them, and the old castor and Ruth were flung forward by the pull of the darkness. Sins jumped over the top of Ned and Ruth, pulled out his dagger midair, and cut the bonds. The two dropped hard to the ground and he gracefully landed beside them. Ruth handed Ned's staff to him, and he raised a barrier in time to block more dark ropes that emerged from the book.

  "You can't win, infidel!" Fingle maniacally yelled. "The energy in this book is endless!"

  Ned scowled. "But my patience isn't." He slammed the bottom of his staff on the ground, and the companions felt the familiar vibrations of a magic-induced earthquake. Unfortunately, the shrine was less structurally sound than Galaron and the dome above them instantly cracked. Plaster fell on their heads, and the walls leaned at odd angles and buckled. Ned turned to his friends with wide eyes. "Fly, you fools!"

  The companions dashed through the shocked priests, past the garden, and out into the meadow. The zealots followed close behind, but Fingle tripped over a fallen piece of ceiling. The book fell out of his hands and slid against the wall of the inner sanctuary. His followers grabbed him and shoved him toward the door. "We will rescue it when the earthquake has stopped!" they reassured him. What they didn't see was Percy skitter to a stop, turn around and grab the book. He tore a few pages out and hurried after his companions.