“There he goes again,” one remarked.
“He cares too much about de skin,” another said.
“And yet, look at them!” Del cried. “They cannot average much over five feet.”
“Now he sayin’ we too short!” one exasperated tribesman cried.
Okin Balokey put a disgusted gaze over Del, hands on hips and shaking his head slowly.
“Not too short!” the ghost protested. “But you are, and you must admit, shorter than average.”
“We below average,” one man said with mock sadness.
“No!” Del said. “But I suspect that your ancestors were far taller, probably averaging close to six feet.”
“You tink we like bumping our heads on de ceilings of our tunnels, boss?” Okin Balokey asked.
“Exactly my point!” the ghost cried.
“Oh, simply marvelous!” Ardaz yelled, catching on and seeing the beauty of it all. “This is too precious, too grand!”
“Who be dat one?” The unfamiliar voice, a woman’s voice, came from behind the gathering. All eyes turned to see a large, older woman dressed in bright colors ambling about the stone, a pair of small dolls in hand, one of which looked remarkably like Ardaz, complete with white hair and blue robes, the other bearing some resemblance to Del, at least in the fact that it was dressed in white. In her other arm, to Ardaz’ complete relief, she held a familiar black cat, curled comfortably in the crook of her elbow as if nothing in all the world could possibly be wrong.
“Oh, Des!” the happy wizard cried, rushing forward. The cat merely yawned and buried her face within her paws.
“Mamagoo?” Belexus asked Okin Balokey, who nodded.
“I be stickin’ dat one fordy-tree time,” Mamagoo complained in her accent, by far the thickest so far, and waving her doll-holding hand Del’s way. “And he not be even jumpin’! And my new kitty friend, she be adding a stick or two.”
“To both?” Ardaz, taking Des from the woman, asked.
“To yours, mostly,” Mamagoo explained. “Beastly loyal.”
“He be a ghost, Mamagoo,” Okin Balokey explained, indicating Del.
“Aah!” the large woman sighed in relief. “Priddy ghost he be, too. So very priddy.” She replaced the doll in a deep pocket and produced some herbs instead, and began waving them about in the air and singing softly.
Almost immediately Del felt a tug in his thoughts, a mental prodding that it took some effort for him to resist.
“Ardaz,” he warned as the wizard came back over to stand beside him.
“Weaving magic,” Ardaz reasoned with great surprise. “I do daresay.”
Belexus tossed aside the man he was holding and advanced a step toward Mamagoo, and when a host of men jumped in front of him, the determined and deadly ranger drew out his new, brilliant sword.
That set the gathering back on its heels, brought a tumult of gasps, and exclamations of “aah.”
“Where you be gettin’ dat?” a suddenly very agitated Mamagoo demanded.
The ranger looked to his friends, then all three turned and eyed the dragon’s mountain. “It is what we came for,” Belexus explained. “All that we came for. We’re wanting no trouble from yerselves, but know that we’ll not be slowed.”
“He talk funny,” one of the tribesmen remarked.
“Trouble, boss?” Okin Balokey said incredulously, waving for his companions, who were all tittering about Belexus’ strange accent, to be quiet. “You got de sword. De sword!”
“You know it?” Ardaz asked.
“We made it,” Okin Balokey replied.
“Ye canno’ have it back,” Belexus said at once, surprising his friends with his impatience and lack of tact.
“Oh, we don’t be wantin’ it back,” Okin Balokey replied happily, apparently taking no offense. “We just be glad that de worm got it no more!”
Rousing cheers went up all about the companions, then, and the three exchanged confused, relieved glances. Ardaz and Del let their gazes linger together, the pair sharing thoughts of how very strange this group truly was, and both wanting to spend more than a little time with Okin Balokey and Mamagoo.
“I knew it! I knew it!” Ardaz cried repeatedly, pacing across the little warm and comfortable chamber the Architects had prepared for them, far underground-though all three suspected that they had only brushed the highest level of a huge tunnel system. “We could not have been alone, no, no. Makes no sense, after all! The world was a bigger place before e-Belvin Fehte, yes, much bigger, with millions of people.”
“Billions,” Del corrected, and he gave a curious look after he made the remark, for it, like so many, had come to him from far, far away, from a place he didn’t consciously access.
“I knew there were others,” Ardaz rambled on. “But I was looking for them in the wrong places-in the east, where the land is more hospitable. And here they were all the time, not so far away at all! I knew other boats made the shores of Ynis Aielle when the new world was young, and oh, the people survived.”
“Without the help of the Colonnae,” Del remarked.
Ardaz wagged his head, but in truth, he wasn’t so certain of that. “They have magic,” he reasoned, rubbing his still-sore rump. “Thus the Colonnae must have visited them, or at least have visited Mamagoo or her predecessors. But still, to have survived in the great Crystals! So close to us, and yet, unknown to us!”
“But you not be unknown to us, man,” Mamagoo’s voice came as she walked into the chamber. “We been watchin’ you dese years. You and dem skinny folk with dem pointy ears.”
“Then why not come and speak with us?” the wizard asked.
“We tried dat once,” Mamagoo said with a visible shudder. “When dem gargoyles come to de mountains. Ooh, but dey whack at us, I tell you boss!”
“Gargoyles?” Del asked.
“Big ugly ones,” Mamagoo explained, and she twisted her face in a manner to make it appear all too familiar to the three.
“Talons,” Belexus reasoned grimly.
“Dat’s why we made de sword, and udder swords,” Mamagoo explained. “But dat one, ooh, she be de best o’ de bunch!” She eyed the weapon as she spoke, moving right next to Belexus. “You know her name?” she asked solemnly.
The ranger shrugged and shook his head.
“Her name be Pouilla Camby,” Mamagoo said.
“A strange name for a sword,” Ardaz remarked.
“Pouilla be killed by de gargoyles,” Mamagoo explained. “Of course, dis all before I be born, before my mama’s mama’s mama be born.” She finished with a wink at the wizard.
“Of course,” Ardaz agreed, and he wasn’t sure what the private joke might be. It struck him then that Mamagoo might not be leveling with the others. Perhaps she, like Ardaz and his sister, like Istaahl and Thalasi, had indeed been touched, been blessed with long years, by the Colonnae, and had been alive all those decades, centuries even. More questions, the wizard thought, growing truly impatient. He would have to return here when the messy business with Thalasi was finished. Oh yes he would!
“So we make de sword and call her Pouilla,” Mamagoo continued, “and she go and do de bad tings to dem gargoyles!”
Belexus looked from the old woman to the beautiful sword.
“You not likin’ de name?” Mamagoo asked, seeing his less-than-bright expression.
Again, Belexus only shrugged.
“Den you just call her by any name dat you be pickin’,” Mamagoo offered, patting the huge man’s rump.
“Cajun,” Del said suddenly, drawing stares from all three.
“Cajun,” he repeated, smirking and looking at Ardaz.
“Oh, ho!” the wizard burst out suddenly. “Cajun. Oh jolly, how very jolly!”
Mamagoo and Belexus looked at each other, the large woman running her index finger in a circle about her ear.
“Cajun because it’s sharp!” the wizard roared. “Like the food; I remember the food!”
“I will find a name,” Belexus said d
ryly, reverently, to Mamagoo. He offered a glare to Del and Ardaz as he finished. “An appropriate name.”
“Dat you do,” the woman replied. Then, looking sidelong at the other two and shaking her large head-but smiling as she did-she left the chamber.
Much later that night, Ardaz stirred from a restless sleep. He left his companions snoring contentedly and slipped out of the chamber-to find the “guards” both snoozing comfortably-and picked his way down the dry and smooth tunnel. Voices soon drew him to a side room, and peeking in through the partly opened door, he found Mamagoo, Okin Balokey, and a third person, a younger woman he did not know, sitting in chairs about a blazing hearth, their backs to him.
“I tink dey mean to be fightin’ gargoyles,” Okin Balokey said.
“Dey good boys,” Mamagoo added, and Ardaz realized then that this third woman-a beautiful, slender creature with skin as dark as night and huge eyes-was someone of great importance. He also realized that while the accents remained, the tone of their voices had changed, had become more serious. Ardaz nodded as he considered the tactic. The Architects had seemed almost simple with their speech pattern to the wizard and his friends, jolly and innocent. But there was another side to them, grim and serious and far from simple. There had to be such a side, he understood, for them to have so thrived in such a dangerous environment. Like the elves of Lochsilinilume-to an outsider, at first glance, they would seem joyful to the point of frivolousness. But anger Arien Silverleaf and his kin and one would find as deadly an enemy as existed in all Aielle!
“We should be letting him keep Pouilla Camby,” Mamagoo went on.
Okin Balokey started to protest, but the young woman cut him off with a wave of her hand, looking to Mamagoo to elaborate.
“Dey be fighting gargoyles, and dat be a good ting,” the old woman reasoned. “Dey waked the dragon, but put de ting back in its hole, and dat be a good ting.”
“Unless de ting come back out,” Okin Balokey said grimly.
“His wing be pretty broken, man,” Mamagoo said. “And if he come out, he not be finding us.”
“He be finding dem three that got his treasure!” Okin Balokey reasoned, catching on to her plan.
“And dat put it all back where it be,” Mamagoo agreed.
“And if we got de sword, and old Salazar find out, den we be losing many tunnels, I tink,” the younger woman said, to which Okin Balokey could only nod his agreement.
“Dey be good boys,” Mamagoo said again. “And dat one wit de sword be stronger than any man I be seein’! Metinks dem gargoyles not to be a happy group when Belexus comes calling with Pouilla Camby!”
All three laughed at that.
“You be tinkin’ de same, old wizard man?” the younger woman said suddenly, obviously aiming her question at Ardaz.
With a huff and many throat clearings, Ardaz bumbled into the room. “Didn’t mean to eavesdrop, no, no,” he stammered. “Just walking along and heard you talking.”
“And you be liking what you be hearing?” Mamagoo asked.
“Yes, yes!” Ardaz beamed. “And you’re right, you know, all of you. None better at chopping gargoyles-we call them talons-than Belexus Backavar, no, no. He’s killed a few, he has, ha, ha, a few hundred!”
“He be a good boy,” Mamagoo said.
“He needs that sword now,” Ardaz tried to explain. “Our enemy, the one who leads the gargoyles, has brought forth a most evil beast, a wraith, you know.”
“Dead ting?” Mamagoo asked. Then, when Ardaz nodded, she shivered. “Ooo.”
“And that sword, that most beautiful sword, is the only weapon that might hurt it,” the wizard explained. “My sister-she’s a witch, you know-”
“I’m not liking my sister much eider, boss,” Okin Balokey said.
That stopped Ardaz short, until he took a moment to think about it. “Oh, no,” he explained. “Not that kind of a witch. A real one, of course. A real one, yes, yes. She found out about the sword, with magic, of course-witch magic, that-and, well, we came to find it.”
“And you did,” the younger woman said.
“Ah, but my manners be missing!” Mamagoo exclaimed suddenly. “Old Ardaz, dis be Calaireesa, chief of de Architect Tribe.”
The wizard bowed low in respect. His expression was one of curiosity as he came out of the bow, though. “Yes, well, I have been meaning to ask, and now seems a good time: Why are you called that? Not a usual name, after all: the Architect Tribe.”
“De book say so,” Calaireesa answered.
“Book?”
“De Architect Book,” the woman explained.
“Oh, de book, she save our lives,” Mamagoo added.
“She showed us how to make de tunnels and de rooms, boss,” Okin Balokey explained. “We all be children when first we came here.”
“Not ‘we,’ ” Calaireesa explained. “But de ancestors. Dey be children, and dey be cold, but de book, she showed dem how to make de tunnels.”
Now it began to dawn on Ardaz, yet another marvelous aspect of this unusual culture. With the exception of himself, Brielle, Istaahl, and Thalasi, all of the Calvan survivors of the holocaust had also been mere children. Perhaps the forefathers of the Architects had found a book, or many books, about architecture, a resource that taught them better how to survive in this new world. Might that have prompted them to consider the books as a sort of bible? “Oh how perfectly grand,” he beamed aloud, but quieted immediately out of respect.
“I would dearly love to see this book,” he said a moment later.
“Sure, man,” Mamagoo said, not even bothering to ask Calaireesa for permission.
Ardaz was truly delighted, and impressed. What a wonderful, open society these people had created. Trusting and generous, and always with a smile ready. He would come back here, he vowed silently again. Yes he would, when the situation allowed!
All three then escorted the wizard to a very small, very well hidden chamber, and therein, he found the remains of a dozen texts about architecture, the most prominent one a nearly complete volume titled simply The Architect. He found all three Architects quite willing to indulge his endless stream of questions, their answers usually only inciting another hundred questions in the wizard’s always-active mind.
Later on, Mamagoo escorted Ardaz back to his chamber. He wanted to ask her many questions, as well, about her magic and about any meetings she might have had with Calae, or with any of the angelic Colonnae.
“Met him once,” she answered before he could even really phrase the question clearly, “though I be just a girl den.”
“When first your people came to Ynis Aielle?” the wizard asked suspiciously, believing now, beyond any doubt, that Mamagoo had indeed been among those initial settlers, and that Calae had blessed her with the gift of long years.
“Oh, no, man, dat be too many hundred years ago,” she said unconvincingly. “I be looking dat old?”
Ardaz laughed and kissed her beautiful cheek. “You be looking simply wonderful!” he said, imitating her accent and drawing a wide smile indeed.
“Now, you be going in de morning, I know,” Mamagoo said. “You make sure dat your friend put Pouilla Camby to de good use, man. Too long dat sword be quiet! Too many gargoyles come about in dem years!”
“Do you want it back when he’s finished?” the wizard asked, and if Mamagoo had said yes, Ardaz would have certainly honored the request.
“No, no, man,” the woman said incredulously. “We don’t want no fighting, you know. Dat’s why we be living here underground-and don’t you be tinking dat any gargoyles might get in here! No, Pouilla will be happy, I know, wit dat big hunter. You tell him to use her good, and den she pass along to de next big hunter. If a gargoyle ever gets her, den we come out maybe, but as long as she be in de hands of de right people, den we be happy.”
“Most generous,” Ardaz said, starting another bow, but changing his mind and giving another kiss on the cheek instead.
“And we all hoping dat de
dragon doesn’t come out and eat you all,” Mamagoo offered.
“Well, we’re hoping the same,” Ardaz replied, smiling, a grin that Mamagoo matched and that both held for a long, long while.
“But if he does, den dat be de way of tings,” Mamagoo put in, drawing a great laugh from Ardaz.
“You go and sleep,” the woman offered. “You got de long road ahead.”
“Long and dark,” the wizard agreed, but it seemed to Ardaz that the potential ending, if all went well, had just gotten a whole lot brighter.
Chapter 17
Rally Cry
THE AVALON MARE responded with greater ease and greater strength than anything Bryan had ever known, weaving in and out of the towering snow drifts along the twisting ways of lighter snow cover. Not an experienced rider, the half-elf struggled for many miles, soreness settling in across his knotted leg muscles and buttocks. Finally, though, after more than two hours in the saddle, Bryan began to grow at ease, his natural elven affinity for animals helping him to empathize with the mount, to understand the signals he was sending to it, and that allowed him to figure out the proper posture and movements for a smoother and swifter run. His confidence growing, the half-elf loosened his grip on the reins, and the mare bent her head low.
Then the mare was running strong and tireless, the snow-covered land speeding by Bryan as he crouched low, his legs working in a rhythmic and painless posting action.
All the rest of that day, the mare pounded on, with Bryan stopping only when the horse seemed to need a break. Late that afternoon, the half-elf found an appropriate campsite, a patch of frozen brown earth in this mostly white wasteland sea. Though the snow was deep out here, the winds had brought it up in high drifts, and those areas in the shadows of the drifts had little snow cover.
The next day was much the same, and the next after that, but Bryan did notice that the snow cover was gradually lessening the farther he got out from Avalon. The strong winds of the empty plain continued to pile the white stuff up in drifts, but this far out, the winds were more from the west than the north, carrying the warmer air from the sea and turning most winter storms into rainy events. That would prove a mixed blessing, Bryan knew, for though the going would be straighter with less snow obstacles, the concealing cover, too, would be lessened. The brown-and-white streaked plain stretched out far in every direction, a skeletal bush sticking through here and there, and Bryan understood that if he could see that far, then creatures far away might also spot him in his telltale rider’s silhouette.
Bastion of Darkness tcoya-3 Page 19
