The old dwarf peered at the travelers and lifted the lantern to his face. “Hello, I’m Damon O’Forge. I’m the spotter.” With a nod of his old gray head he motioned to the man in the wool beret hat. “My trusty friend here, Saint-Pierre, is the mapper.”
The Frenchman mumbled a quick bonjour and returned his attention to the brightly colored map before him.
Vanora crinkled her nose. “What’s a spotter and a mapper?”
“Very simple my young friend,” the old dwarf said. “I spot Dragomir and Pierre maps his location.”
The elderly dwarf hobbled to the table and pointed a knobby finger at several key points on the canvas map. “I’ve spotted him here last night and here the night before, at the western end where all the creatures of the sea dwell.”
“This is where you must go, young man.” He tapped at a dark spot on the map. “It’s not far by mining cart. You can pass through the mountain to the ancient burial grounds. Try to remember that some creatures only slumber in their graves and have done so for centuries. Try not to cause a ruckus and wake them up or it’ll make matters much worse for you. I’d advise you travel to the cemetery during the day as Dragomir is similar to all bloodsuckers, and is the most powerful at night.”
Oxton stepped to the table and examined the map. “Where did you last see him?”
“We last spotted him entering the Frightful Forest near the city of Murias, where the Tuatha De Danaan and humans make their home. That cemetery is right in the heart of that woodland. You’ll have a devil of a time with the shortcut through the mountain by cart unless you have a guide to show you the entrance.”
“That’s where I’ll be of service,” Brosha boomed. “I’ll show you the way into that old mine. It hasn’t been used in ages, but it will get you there faster than any other route.”
Kat came to the table and served tea and thick slices of cake. She put a scoop of ice cream on top just for Vanora and Angus, and set it before them. She looked at them with big worried eyes, wrung the apron at her waist and went back to stirring the pot over the fire.
The old dwarf swallowed a piece of cake, washed it down with the tea, and pinned Angus with his dark eyes. “They say Dragomir’s evilness is seeping into every dark crevice and corner. But mostly in that ancient graveyard where King MacBain’s sword lies. I’m afraid you will encounter more dark forces than light. No telling what might happen.”
Angus shivered and tried to swallow. It seemed a lump of clay rather than cake was stuck in his windpipe.
Kat dropped the spoon into the pot with a clatter. “A child has no place in that graveyard. I simply won’t hear of you old fools endangering a young one’s life.”
“It’s his destiny, good wife,” Brosha said. “Take heart that he isn’t going alone. Dragomir’s evil will come to an end soon and we will all have peace once again. It’s in the boy’s blood to win and to survive—no harm will come to him. Have faith. You’ll see.”
Kat dabbed her eyes with a cotton hankie and came to Angus’ side. “I suppose he’s right, but do take care, child. For your mother’s sake.”
At the mention of his mother, the fear churning inside Angus’ gut turned to fire. “I’ll be fine. It’s Dragomir who should take care.”
18
The travelers left the comfort of Brosha’s home, passing villagers busy shearing sheep, pruning trees and collecting acorns to feed to squealing pigs. It seemed everyone had a job, a family, and a warm home. A terrible emptiness stirred within Angus that made it hard to leave the safety of the simple parish behind. Whatever the cost, he would find his mother and bring her home, and he’d have a family again.
The dwarf guided them into a field of barley and as the small band tramped through the deeply furrowed soil, nesting pheasants flushed from their protective homes fled into the amber sky.
At the end of the fertile pasture, a rock wall supporting a wooden door framed by thick beams marked the entry into the Southern Mountains Mine. Brosha gripped the wooden handle and wrestled the door open. Tunnels lined with rich veins of calcite spidered in all directions. Rotten timber and rock-slides barricaded most of the routes leaving only two operable railways. Abandoned ore carts just like the one they had ridden before, only smaller, rusted into the earth. A single battered lantern hung from an iron spike.
Brosha grasped the lamp and turned up the wick. “This way is not a common route. Only used by independent miners looking for streaks of silver, gold, or garnets to sell at the marketplace.”
The friendly dwarf dusted off the seats of two mining cars still sound enough to be on the tracks. “Better pair up for more leg room.”
Fane and Oxton climbed into the biggest cart while Angus and Vanora got into one behind them.
Vanora wiggled in her seat with excitement while Angus took a couple deep breaths to try to calm his nerves. He didn’t look forward to another high-flying episode. Why couldn’t it just stay safely on the tracks? Although these crumbling tracks had seen better days.
As soon as they had bid farewell to Brosha, the first mine cart pitched forward with Fane and Oxton leading the way. The second car rattled down the rails close behind. Angus glanced over the sides at the deep dark pit below and adjusted his pack and shield. The cart rumbled around a sharp corner and he squeezed his eyes shut as it teetered dangerously on the rotten trestles.
Fane’s voice boomed. “Lean to your left! Look out!”
Angus snapped his eyes open. The tracks split in two directions. The mining car went flying the opposite way as Fane’s, racing downward, spiraling deeper and deeper into the dark.
“Oh no. We’re going the wrong way!” Vanora yelled.
“Stay where you land and we’ll find you,” Oxton’s voice echoed after them.
The cart wheeled around a sharp turn and raced deeper into the earth. Sparks flew off the old tracks as they gained speed. Angus held on so tight he feared he’d never be able to let go. Finally they slowed and the mining car screeched to a halt in front of a wall lit by several dim lanterns.
“Where do you think we are?” Vanora asked.
Angus shrugged. “How should I know? The big question is how do we get out of here?”
“Oxton said he’d come and find us, so all we can do is sit and wait.”
Angus shook his head and scrambled from his seat. “We don’t have time. I have to hurry to the cemetery and get that sword before Dragomir kills my mother.”
Vanora clambered out of the cart. “Did you hear that?”
Angus shrugged. “Hear what?”
“That sound. A clinking sound.” Her face brightened. “Someone’s working down here!”
The ring and chip of a pickax came from one of two dark tunnels to Angus’ right. He stood between the two entrances craned his ears and pointed to the smallest passageway. “It’s coming from this one!”
A stiff wave of apprehension washed over him. The tunnel appeared tight and dark with only a faint flicker of lantern light at the end.
Vanora bit her lower lip. “Do you think it’s safe? Aren’t there toxic gases in old mines?”
“If it were dangerous, why would someone be working down here?”
Vanora shrugged. “Only one way to find out.”
Angus bravely stepped inside, ducking his head to keep from scraping it on the jagged ceiling. The sound of Vanora’s footsteps flopping behind him seemed louder than normal. The tight passageway grew smaller and smaller. He scrunched his shoulders and wedged himself into the next bend.
“It’s really getting crowded in here,” Angus said. His pulse pounded in his ears.
“I see more light ahead,” Vanora said. “I think we’re almost there.”
Angus hurried down the tunnel crouching and squeezing around another tight corner and into a dimly lit cavern filled with strange snorting sounds.
“What is that?” he whispered.
“It sounds like snoring,” Vanora said. “But who’d be sleeping down here?”
; Angus didn’t want to think about it. He’d encountered enough strange creatures to already know that whatever had a burrow in this place most likely wasn’t friendly.
The farther he walked into the room the louder the snoring became accompanied by whistling exhales. Shadowy outlines of bodies covered the stone floor. A wave of overpowering dizziness washed over him.
“What happened to the clinking sound?” he asked. When she didn’t answer he turned around to face a blinding light.
“Here take these,” a muffled voice said, shoving something into his hands. “And be quick about it.”
Angus felt the hard outline of a helmet and slipped it on. It came with a gas mask and a light fixed to the brim. When he put the mask over his mouth, a cool rush of oxygen filled his lungs and the dizziness left him. He clicked on the helmet’s light. In front of him, stood a short, bristly man with rosy skin covered in dirt and grime. On his head he wore a similar helmet and light. He gave Angus a concerned look. “You kids shouldn’t be in here. It’s not safe. Just look around you at all the victims. They’ve been sleeping for a year straight.”
Vanora adjusted her mask. “Sleeping? Why?”
“The powder,” the stranger said, pointing to where he’d been working. Angus aimed the helmet light on the spot. The wall shimmered with glittery white powder. A powder that looked very familiar.
“For the sandman,” the miner said. “He pays top dollar for the sleeping dust. This is premium, full grade dust. One hundred proof. I’m the only one with sense enough to wear a protective mask. All the others, obsessed with greed, tried to rush in here and work unprotected. Fools, the whole lot of them.” The stranger shook his head. “Guess they didn’t know one grain can knock down a full size pachyderm.”
An idea flashed in Angus’ mind. If he had just a few pocket-sized bags of that powder he could render Dragomir’s giants helpless.
“How much would it cost for four small bags?” Angus asked.
The man scratched his head and calculated some figures on his fingers. “It’ll cost a great fortune. At least ten rubies.”
Angus’ heart sank.
Vanora looked puzzled. “What are you up to?”
“I was going to use the powder to battle the giants.”
“Great idea,” she said. “But without money or gems I guess that’s out.”
The miner’s eyes widened. “Giants? Oh dear me, I have been down here for a very long time.”
“How about a trade for something of equal value?” Angus asked.
The prospector nodded. “Oh yes, a trade is fine. But you’ll be hard pressed to find something worthwhile to me. And if you’re thinking I need that shield you’re carrying, I wouldn’t have a use for such a thing.”
“No, of course not,” Angus said, shrugging off his backpack. He reached inside and pulled out the golden hammer and chisel that Captain Lee had given him.
“These were a gift given to me by a great sea captain. They were made by the mining dwarves of Sing Mein. Would you like to swap them for some of that powder?”
The miner’s eyes widened. “These are worth a great fortune indeed. Created by the ancients themselves. I’ll gladly trade you four bags of dust plus two more!”
The man hurried to a cart, scooped the fine powder into six leather pouches the size of sandwich bags and returned to hand them to Angus.
“Thank you,” Angus said, stuffing the bags into his backpack.
“Can you tell us the fastest way out of here?” Vanora asked.
The miner rubbed his chin. “I came in from the Northern Mountains. I’d say it’s a good day by rail. Unfortunately, the oar carts are a bit uncontrollable and refuse to return the way you came. They want to work you see, do the job they were intended for. Every since they quit large-scale operations the mining cars have become quite bored. None of them want to just rot away at the entrance.” The stranger sighed. “They all want to be down here with me, working.”
Angus rubbed his forehead in frustration. “We’ll never find our way out of here in time.”
Vanora grabbed Angus’ arm. “How about one of those photos?”
He pulled the two remaining photos from his pocket. Although he longed to be in the peaceful meadow he knew which picture he had to select.
“Remember what Fane said?” Vanora asked, peering at the photo.
Angus nodded. “You should try to find your way back to the village. And if I survive, I’ll come back for you. It would be safer than coming with me.”
“No Angus. I won’t let you go alone.”
Angus gripped Vanora’s shoulders. “If I am going to be a king someday, I must be responsible for protecting those I lo-- those around me. I can’t ask you to risk your life. This is something I have to do on my own.”
Vanora stared into Angus’ eyes. “I’m going with you and that’s final. It may be your quest to complete but nobody said you had to do it alone.”
“Okay, I guess there’s no arguing with you.” Angus peered down at the picture. “Hopefully, this is where the Guardian of the Dead is at.”
The stranger came closer, peered down at the photograph and pointed a grimy finger at it. “That’s where he lives all right. Smack in the middle of that bone yard, tucked in the protective folds of the Frightful Forest.”
“Great!” Angus said. “Thanks for your help.”
The man nodded. “Glad to be of service. Now I must get back to work. Have a good journey.”
The miner disappeared into the dark. Moments later came the ring of his pickax chipping into a rock wall.
Angus set the photograph onto the dusty floor. The picture started to swirl. He grabbed Vanora’s hand and together they jumped into the photo. A shot of cold air ripped into his lungs, and the smell of wet paint. He felt himself falling through a long, gooey tunnel. Angus steadied his nerves and set his mind on destroying Dragomir.
****
He landed on his feet with Vanora beside him. A quick survey of his surroundings didn’t reveal any immediate danger. Exhausted, he pulled off his mask and wiped the sweat from his eyes.
Cathedral like oak trees with huge limbs draped in moss sprawled to the sky. Birds cawed in the distance and sent an involuntary shiver through him like the toll of a funeral bell.
Vanora tucked her helmet and mask under her arm and rested against the base of a birch tree. “Sure good to be outside again, in the fresh air,” she said. “Which way should we go?”
“What a stupid question.”
Vanora stood rigid. “That’s not very nice, Angus.”
“I didn’t say it.”
Vanora smirked. “Right, then who did?”
Angus pointed upward. “I think he did.”
Vanora moved away from the tree. Two large black eyes and mouth snapped open on the trunk. “Which way, indeed, silly girl child.”
“I’m not silly or stupid,” Vanora said. “I’m a stranger in your land and I need directions.”
“Stranger indeed and without any brains I see. Just look at the two of you, covered in dirt and grime. Disgusting! And I ask you, what dummies enter a forest wearing gas masks? Really impractical, if you ask me.”
Angus ignored the insults. “Do you know the way to the Guardian of the Dead? To his cemetery?”
“Yes, but first you have to guess my name.”
“What?” Angus said.
“Guess what my name is, stupid boy child.”
Angus clenched his jaw. “How about woodpile, sandpaper, wood chips or better yet... outhouse for dogs?”
The tree gasped. “You’re a nasty-natured and stupid boy child aren’t you?”
Angus glanced at Vanora. “Got an ax?”
The tree shivered until several of its yellow leaves fluttered to the ground. “All right, just head over the bridge and down a short footpath, you’ll come to the cemetery. I have more to tell you. Life-sparing information, if you will, but only after you guess my name.”
Angus crossed his arms. �
�Rumpelstiltskin?”
“No. Keep guessing”
“Jack.”
“No.”
“Henry.”
“No.”
Angus tapped his foot. “Flibber, Flam, Spork, Spam?”
The tree chuckled. “No, of course not.”
“Well then, give us a hint. We can’t stay here all day guessing,” Vanora said.
“Why should I?”
Angus scowled. “Because if you don’t, I’m gonna kick the pitch out of you.”
“Geesh, all right. No call for violence. It rhymes with hurt.”
“Burt!” Vanora blurted. “Burt the birch tree!”
“Very good, stupid girl child. Now listen closely. Upon entering the cemetery you must turn around three times. Stamp your feet twice and repeat these words. I am a stupid child. A very stupid child.”
Angus glowered. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
The tree laughed until more of its leaves sailed to the ground. “Yes of course, but in all seriousness do beware of the Guardian. As long as you go now, you’ll be fine. He doesn’t turn evil until nightfall.”
“How will I know him? I mean, what does he look like?” Angus asked.
The tree frowned. “Like the grim reaper without the sickle. Instead, he carries a human spine for a whip. That’s all I know.”
Angus groaned and adjusted the backpack and shield. “I shouldn’t have asked. I was fine with everything until you got to the human spine part.”
“Sorry, but I can only tell the truth,” the tree muttered.
“We’ll you could have fooled me,” Angus said.
A bird cascaded from the sky, gliding on the gentle winds. It made a swoop to land on one of the tree’s long limbs. Burt reacted instantly, whipping at its tail feathers with one of his thin branches. “Stupid crows, always so nosey and with a spy glass no less.”
Angus’ heart dropped. “Crow?”
Vanora pointed at the bird. “It’s Cudweed! He’s off to alert Dragomir!”
Angus searched frantically for a rock. Something to knock Cudweed out of the sky. But it was already too late. Angus’ heart sank. The bird was now just a black dot in the clouds.
Angus MacBain and the Island of Sleeping Kings Page 16
