Angus frowned, ran his hands over his chest and shook his head. “That can’t be true,” he said. “There’s no hint of broken bones; I feel fine.”
Giorge smiled and nodded. “Now,” he said. “But then, you were a mess. It took a lot of convincing for them to call in a healer to mend you. But they did, and she was exceptional. It was only after you were recovering that they threw you in the dungeons.”
“It was costly, too,” Hobart added. “We spent a lot more of the gems Giorge had gotten for those coins. The Banner’s gems.”
“There was still plenty left over, Hobart,” Giorge said. “And if Angus proves to be as useful to us as we suspect he will be, it is a small price to pay. After all, he did have that map.”
“Who cares about that damned map?” Hobart grumbled. “I can buy a map for a few silvers. His healing cost thousands of gold.”
“Not his map,” Giorge said. “Ask Ortis. It’s as old as the coins, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” Ortis said. “But what does that matter.”
“Well,” Giorge finally turned away from Millie to face them, a hint of his typical grin threatening to etch onto his lips. “If my information is correct,” he continued, “it may lead us to The Tiger’s Eye.”
“The what?” Hobart asked. “I don’t really like the idea of fighting mountain cats.”
“I didn’t say it was a tiger,” Giorge clarified. “I said The Tiger’s Eye.”
“So?” Hobart said. “What’s the difference?”
Giorge sighed. “There’s a legend,” he said. “It goes way back to a time before Urm. It’s about a ruby the size of a large man’s hand. They called it The Tiger’s Eye, and it was reputed to have had strange and wondrous powers. It was part of what drove Urm to expand the kingdom. He thought the plains folk had it, but they didn’t. Then his son went after the dwarves for the same reason, and with the same results.”
“That doesn’t seem likely,” Angus said, feeling his anger subtly shifting to curiosity. “According to Fyngar, Urm simply wanted the grain for himself. There was no mention of this Tiger’s Eye, and I am quite confident Fyngar would have mentioned it if he had known of its existence. He was quite thorough in his critique of Urm’s motives.”
“That’s only one story,” Giorge countered, brightening a bit more as he spoke. “There are others. One involves the Angst. They were a strange group of religious fanatics from the time before the Dwarf Wars. They worshipped fire and prayed to a god of destruction and chaos. Some say they accepted the plains folk into their ranks—and the dwarves. Others say they fled from Urm as his armies moved west into the mountains, but they eluded him. Others say they were always in the mountains, but Urm didn’t know about them; it was only after Vyr’s extension of the kingdom that they were discovered. Whatever the truth is, they all say the Angst disappeared into the mountains or were there all along. But after the volcanoes started erupting, no one ever heard from them again. And all the legends say the same thing about The Tiger’s Eye: It was so powerful that it could burn a man to cinders in an instant.”
“What does that have to do with Angus’s map?” Hobart asked.
“Simple,” he said. “The symbol that looks like a flame burning on top of a pyramid resembles the ones mentioned in the rumors. I think it is one of their temples. If it hasn’t been completely destroyed, we might find The Tiger’s Eye.”
“There has been a lot of volcanism over here,” Ortis hedged. “It is almost certainly destroyed.”
Giorge shrugged. “Probably,” he agreed, then grinned for the first time since leaving Hellsbreath. “But what if it isn’t?”
“Other banners have probably found it,” Hobart said. “Or other things.”
“What if they haven’t?” Giorge asked, his newly rediscovered enthusiasm difficult to squash.
“All right,” Hobart said. “You think that ruby is in this temple, and the temple has protected it from being destroyed, don’t you?”
Giorge nodded, “It would make sense, wouldn’t it? Why have that one temple indicated on Angus’s map?” he asked. “I’m sure they had many other temples that weren’t noted, so it has to have been the most important one, perhaps even their central temple. Think about it; how many small shrines are on the maps we have today? None, that’s how many. But most of them have at least some of the major temples noted. They may vary on which ones, but that’s more the personal preference of the mapmaker, isn’t it?”
“That does make a sort of optimistic sense,” Hobart said. “But I won’t believe it until I see it.”
“Speaking of which,” Ortis said. “We should get going. I’m sure the guardsmen on Hellsbreath’s wall are wondering what we’re doing.”
Hobart glanced back at Hellsbreath again and nodded. “I would be watching us if I were them. I might even send riders out later to make sure we left the area.”
“I’ll get my map out,” Angus said, reaching for his pack. “I think we need to follow along that river, don’t we?”
“No,” Ortis said. “We don’t want them to know where we’re going, do we? If we go along the river, they will want to know what we are doing. They’ll be sure to follow us, even if they weren’t planning to do so already. It would be better to go north at least to the second caravan stop before we break off into The Tween.”
“That’s a good idea,” Giorge said. “We can always backtrack later. I, for one, do not wish to be followed if we can avoid it.”
“There’s a road on my map,” Angus said. “Didn’t we pass one on our way here?”
“That road was abandoned long ago,” Hobart said. “They started building it at the same time as Hellsbreath but gave up on it. The mountains are taking it back.”
“I wonder if they were using the old roadbed,” Angus mused. “If I were building a road through here, I would. It would save time, wouldn’t it? They wouldn’t have to carve the roadbed out of the mountainside.”
“We can take a look at the map when we’re on the other side of this hill,” Ortis said. “It may be in the right place.”
“All right, then,” Hobart said, looking from Giorge to Angus. “Is it settled?”
“For now,” Angus said, sensing the coals of anger still burning within him—but at a controllable level. “But if he disturbs me again….”
“I won’t,” Giorge said. “Not even if an assassin like Typhus is on your trail.”
Angus frowned, looked at Giorge—who smiled slyly as he spurred his horse forward—and fell into place between the first and second Ortis. Hobart and the last Ortis trailed some distance behind them, talking quietly with each other….
10
“There’s the road,” Hobart said as they reached the valley floor. “Even here you can see there’s no upkeep.” He nudged his horse forward onto the old road heading west along the valley floor. “The cobblestones are weathered, the mortar between them is crumbling, and there has been no effort to replace the broken ones. Up ahead, they’ve reclaimed some of the cobblestones to repair the newer roads and grass is sprouting up between most of the ones that are left. Don’t be surprised if some of them are loose. When we reach that mountain, we’ll have to keep near the upslope in case our horses stumble.”
“There are tracks,” Ortis said. “Someone still uses this road.”
Hobart nodded. “Trappers, hunters, the Hellsbreath’s patrols go past the mountain to make sure the dwarves keep to themselves. They don’t stay on the road, though; they keep to the valleys and come back around south of Hellsbreath.”
“That must be it,” Ortis said. “It looks like a group of horses went through here about a week ago. But I don’t see them coming back.”
“It’s an infrequent, long patrol,” Hobart said. “Maybe once a month or so.”
“Let’s go then,” Giorge said, nudging his horse onto the old road, Millie’s hooves clattering noisily with each step. “We have a few hours before it will be dark.”
“We should stay at the
caravan stop,” Hobart suggested. “We can come back here tomorrow. That way, if they’re following us, we can confront them.”
Giorge stopped, turned Millie to face them, and said, “Let them follow us this way,” he said. “They’ll give up sooner.”
“That may be,” Hobart said, not moving.
“Look,” Giorge added. “We only have two or three weeks before winter sets in up there, right? And it will hit Hellsbreath not long after that. We can’t winter in Hellsbreath this year, so the sooner we check this place out, the more time we’ll have to find somewhere else to stay.”
“True,” Hobart said, but he made no move to follow Giorge. “Of course, Wyrmwood is nearby.”
“Well?” Giorge said. “Do we go or not?”
Hobart shrugged. “I’d feel more comfortable if I knew why this road was abandoned.”
Giorge grinned and said, “We’ll know that sooner if we go now than if we wait for tomorrow.”
“All right, Giorge,” Hobart conceded. “Lead the way, then.”
They were still in the valley when they set up camp for the night. Hobart explained what Angus’s responsibilities were and showed him how to tend to his horse for the evening. Once Gretchen and Leslie were hobbled, they gathered around the fire and waited for Ortis to finish with a simple vegetable soup.
“This will be better than the last one,” he said as he handed a bowlful to Angus. “We’re far enough away from the main road that I’ve been finding some very pleasant roots, leaves, and berries. I even have a melon for dessert.”
“Thank you, Ortis,” Angus said, his hunger not caring about the taste as he took his first bite. “After what they fed me in the dungeons, this will taste wonderful, I’m sure.” It was a palatable stew, almost tasty, and he nodded to Ortis before taking a second bite.
After they finished eating, Giorge set to work on the dishes and Hobart said. “Listen, Angus, I know you’re still angry with Giorge.”
“I’ll set it aside soon enough,” Angus said.
Hobart nodded, but continued. “You haven’t been in The Tween before, have you?”
“Aside from the main road?” Angus replied. “No.”
“Well, there are stories about it. It’s important that you hear a few of them.”
“Such as?” he asked.
“They’re mainly rumors,” Hobart hedged. “We aren’t sure if we should believe them or not.”
“Rumors generally have a grain of truth in them. Some have more.”
Hobart nodded. “The people telling them are suspect,” he said. “Most of them claimed to have gone into The Tween and came back out again.”
“So?”
“Most of them are lying,” Ortis said. “If not all of them. The Tween generally doesn’t let people leave.”
“You make it sound like it’s alive,” Angus said.
Hobart considered for a long moment before nodding in agreement. “I suppose,” he said, “it is, in a way. It’s a feeling, a presence. I’ve felt it before.”
“You’ve been in The Tween?” Angus asked.
Hobart nodded. “All of us have,” he said. “Except you. It was a different part of it, further north, but….”
“It was the caravan,” Ortis said. “We went with it west out of Wyrmwood. As we crossed through The Tween, something watched us. But we couldn’t see it; all we could do was feel it there, watching us like a giant, invisible, unblinking eye.”
“It was a large caravan,” Hobart added. “There were a lot of guards for it. We were all on edge, and that sharpens the senses. It was unnerving. It’s like being chased by a shadow at the edge of your eye, but every time you turn, it disappears.”
Angus nodded. “I think I know what you mean,” he said. “A sense of danger that never manifests,” like when Voltari wasn’t there but I knew he was watching me.
Hobart nodded, “It’s a real danger. There is something in The Tween that isn’t strong enough to attack caravans, but it doesn’t have any qualms about attacking smaller parties, like our own.”
“So,” Angus asked, “what do these rumormongers have to say about it?”
“That’s just it,” Hobart said. “They never have anything to say. It’s all vague notions about this or a sense of that, but never any specifics. That’s what’s so unnerving about it. It would be easier to deal with The Tween if we knew it was a dragon or dwarves, or something else equally tangible. But it’s never more than that sense of something dreadful watching you, waiting for an opportunity to strike.”
Angus frowned; he was feeling an irrational sense of foreboding that he hadn’t had before Hobart started talking. “Why are you telling me this?” he asked.
“We’re heading into The Tween now,” Hobart said. “If you feel anything like that, let us know at once. We must be vigilant, and a false alarm is far better than an absent one when there is a real danger.”
Angus nodded. “I think I understand.”
“Good,” Ortis said. “You and I can take first watch—unless you need the rest?” he asked.
“First watch will be fine,” Angus said. “But I will need time to prepare myself tomorrow. I cast a spell in the dungeon that I haven’t yet replaced. That is,” he added turning a half-hearted glare at Giorge, “if Giorge lets me do it.”
Giorge shrugged. “I won’t bother you.”
“Good,” Angus said. “It is one of Teffles’ spells, and I am unfamiliar with it. It will need my full attention.”
“No more need be said,” Hobart declared. “We will respect your privacy, won’t we Giorge.”
“Absolutely!” Giorge said. “It will give me time to practice throwing my new net.”
Angus nodded. He was anxious to find out what that first simple spell would do….
11
The next morning, Angus sat hunched over Teffles’ spell book and brought the magic within him into focus. It was the first step for priming a spell, and he had done it so many times that the patterns within him were a familiar echo imprinted on his mind and the realignment of them was routine. But this time was different. The threads of magic within him were vaguely distorted, as if they had been disrupted and shifted aside a fraction of an inch. It wasn’t that they were misplaced, exactly—he tested the patterns for the spells he had already primed, and they reacted normally—just…different. It was almost as if they had been tweaked out of place and put back again, but the one who did it was just a little bit off. It was like searching a person’s room and putting everything back again; no matter how close the objects were to their original position, they were always just a little bit off.
Was it the healer? Had she cause the disruption when she mended his bones? He didn’t know; he only knew that something wasn’t quite the same. He continued to study the arrangement of the strands for a few more minutes, but he couldn’t find any answers in them. Finally, he turned away from the magic within him and reached out for the magic around him.
It was a lively location—he had checked it the night before—and he drew upon it as needed to facilitate the priming of the new spell, the one that would let him fly. Even though it was a complex spell, he risked using Teffles’ shorthand to make it simpler to prime. But he wasn’t comfortable with it; the spell was dominated by sky magic and he was trained in and attuned to flame magic. It wasn’t that he couldn’t prime for sky magic spells or cast them—all magic worked the same basic way—but it felt unnatural to him, sort of like wearing someone else’s boots. It took time to find the right threads within him and tweak them into the proper position to be receptive to the spell, and when he was done, he was surprised to find that there were enough threads remaining for him to prime another simpler, weaker spell. He chose the first spell in Teffles’ book, the one that had the single knot. He was curious about what it would do….
By the time Angus finished, the others were ready to leave. Ortis was lounging near the subdued fire. Hobart was tending to the horses and redistributing the gear. Giorge wa
s casually throwing a net across their campsite, trying to capture a reluctant bush. The net, a web of tightly braided strands with the outer edge lined with small weights, was large enough to entrap a man. He gripped the middle of the strands, twirled the weights around his head, and let it go. As it shot forward the weights spread outward in clumps and the net unwound only partway, the rest remained uselessly tangled together. When it landed near the bush, the weights bounced and rolled, tangling the net even further. He reeled it in by the rope attaching the net to his wrist, and began untangling it. When he saw Angus walking toward them, he grinned, thought about it for a moment, and lowered its intensity to a friendly, guarded smile.
“I’ll get it figured out eventually,” he said. “It’s the weights. I don’t know how to release the net so they spread out in a uniform fashion.”
“You should have seen him when he started,” Hobart said as he guided Leslie toward them. “I thought he was skipping stones the way they bounced along the ground. At least now the net isn’t getting as tangled up as when he started. Some of it is even spreading out.”
“Give me time,” Giorge said, “and I’ll be catching deer with Ortis.”
“He may be right,” Ortis suggested. “Deer don’t stand still, like bushes. One might run into the net by accident.”
Giorge grinned and said, “I wouldn’t mind.”
Hobart chuckled and asked Angus, “Are you ready to go?”
Angus nodded.
“Good,” Ortis said as one of him dowsed the fire with water and the other two scooped dirt onto it.
“Your horse is saddled,” Hobart said. “We should be able to make it around this mountain today if the road holds.”
“If it doesn’t?” Angus asked.
Hobart shrugged. “We’ll consider out options. It will depend a great deal on how steep the mountain is. We might have to backtrack and take a different route.”
The Tiger's Eye (Book 1) Page 21
