The Ventifact Colossus (The Heroes of Spira Book 1)

by Dorian Hart

  Maybe something from Mom would cheer him up. He dragged his package into the living room and levered off the lid with Pyknite. The others were sitting and relaxing, most of them with wine glasses, while Eddings fussed and made sure everyone was comfortable. Tor was stretched out on a couch, a thick white bandage still wrapped around his thigh and over his wounded hip. Dranko said he was a fast healer. Aravia had gone to the secret room straight away, but the crystal ball was answered by Mister Golem, so now there was nothing to do but wait for Abernathy to get back to them.

  Grey Wolf chuckled. “Mommy send you a blanket?”

  Ernie reddened and pretended not to have heard. He found a piece of paper resting atop the straw padding that protected the crate’s contents.

  “Let me guess,” said Dranko. “You’re secretly a priest, and someone from your church has ominous news. That seems to be the pattern around here.”

  Ernie scanned the letter. “No, I was right, it’s from Mom and Dad. They sent me some wool socks, and an extra jacket, and Mom copied some recipes down for me.” (There was also a thick woolen blanket along with his favorite stuffed bear, Bumbly, but he wasn’t about to admit to those in front of Grey Wolf.) “But she said they got the golden ring off that statue of me in Murgy’s basement, and it’s in here somewhere.”

  “Your what?” asked Dranko.

  “Didn’t I tell you about that?”

  “You told us there was a mysterious statue of you in a neighbor’s cellar,” said Dranko. “But what’s this about gold?”

  “Oh. There was a gold ring around one of my fingers,” said Ernie. “I mean, the statue’s finger. Murgy said he’d have it sent to me once they figured out how to get it off without damaging the statue. I guess they did.”

  He rummaged around near the bottom of the crate and found what he was looking for in the folds of the blanket. It was a golden band, a fat gold ring sized for a giant, but to Ernie it seemed perfectly suited as a bracelet. There were tiny runes etched into its polished surface. He held it up.

  “Hey, hey!” said Dranko. “Looks like Ernie’s acquired us some additional capital. Good thing; we’re out of cash.”

  “Where did you get that?” Kibi leapt from his chair, spilling his wine, and stared at the golden circlet with an expression of utter bewilderment. “How…how in the Gods’ good names…”

  It was shocking to see Kibi so distraught. He had always seemed so calm, so soft-spoken. Had he raised his voice even once since they met? This was by far the most emotional Ernie had seen him; his reaction to the gold bracelet was shock bordering on panic.

  Ernie lifted the piece of jewelry and held it out to Kibi with a puzzled expression. “Do you know what this is?”

  “’Course I do!” Kibi practically shouted. “I seen that piece a’ gold every day a’ my life! It belongs to my mother, and it’s got to stay with her! How did it come to be here?”

  That made no sense. “It can’t be,” Ernie said.

  Kibi put out his hand, and Ernie handed over the bracelet. “It is!” Kibi cried, running one hand agitatedly through his hair. “Same size, same crazy runes, and not a scratch on it. I don’t know what it was doin’ in your hometown, Ernie, but I got to get this here back to my ma.”

  Ernie took the bracelet back. “Kibi, it can’t be the same one. This wasn’t just ‘in my hometown.’ It was on a statue that must have been buried underground for hundreds of years.”

  “There must be two of them.” Aravia stood and walked over to join Ernie and Kibi. “Either identical or close enough that you couldn’t tell them apart. What do the runes say?”

  “How should I know?” said Ernie. “They aren’t normal letters.”

  Aravia leaned in and scrutinized the thing while Ernie held it out. “I don’t recognize them either,” she admitted.

  Kibi was so distraught he tugged on his beard, but Aravia must be right about there being duplicates. “If this did belong to your mother, why is it so important that she get it back?”

  “Well, that’s a strange thing now,” said Kibi. The stonecutter looked almost imploringly at Aravia, surely hoping the wizardess was correct, but his voice remained agitated. “The way my father, Bim, always tells it, is that he was up in the high hills, clearin’ the trail between Eggoggin and Marhold. There’d just been an avalanche, see, and trade was fairly well stymied. Anyway, my father was leverin’ rocks and trees off the trail when he looks down into this valley, and there was a young woman in a green dress, just sittin’ on top of a pile a’ debris, calm as anything, and beautiful as a polished emerald. Dad figured she must a’ fallen down there from the trail, so he clambered down to help her out. He was always a gallant one for the ladies, to hear him tell it.

  “The lass was fine, no injuries, not even dust on her dress. But she couldn’t remember nothin’ about how she got there, or who her family was, or anything about anything. Just her name—Gela. And she had a golden bracelet on her wrist. Said she didn’t know what it was, but that is was vital that she never take it off. Said she’d die if she weren’t wearin’ it, though she couldn’t say what made her think it.

  “Dad figured she got knocked on the head, probably out walkin’ during the avalanche. He took her back to Eggoggin and took care of her, waitin’ for her memories to come back. But they never did, and no one ever came along who knew who she was. Somethin’ had erased all her memories of her past, but it never seemed to bother her none. Eventually she and Dad got married, and she became Gela dun Bim, and they had a son, who you all are lookin’ at.”

  He pointed at the golden bracelet in Ernie’s hand. “And every day a’ my life, that there bangle has been around my ma’s wrist. Or maybe, like Aravia says, and what I hope more than hope, one that only looks just like it.”

  “What were the chances of that?” Tor exclaimed. “Abernathy’s spell picks a bunch of random people, and two of you have the same circlet? It seems impossible!”

  “No,” said Aravia. “I think it was quite likely. You’re just confusing causality. Abernathy’s spell picked Ernie and Kibi because of that connection. That piece of jewelry must have some great significance. We just don’t know what it is yet.”

  Ernie turned to Eddings. “Mr. Eddings, can you send a letter to Kibi’s parents, asking if they still have his mom’s gold circlet?”

  “If I know the address, then certainly, Master Roundhill.”

  Well, wasn’t that interesting! The arrival of the statue’s ring had prompted Kibi to reveal more about himself in two minutes than he had in three weeks. Ernie felt a sudden camaraderie now with the bearded gentleman, a shared mystery about their pasts. Someone had placed the gold band on the statue; was it the same person who had given Kibi’s mom its twin? And Abernathy may not know anything about why a stone likeness of Ernie was buried beneath his hometown, but magic, as he was learning, worked in mysterious ways. Now at least he had a possible explanation for why he had been chosen, an old secret, an enigmatic artifact, and a connection to a stonecutter’s family.

  The shrieking warble of the crystal ball sounded from upstairs.

  “Gods,” said Dranko. “You’d think the most powerful wizard in the world could find a more pleasant sound for that.”

  “Why would he want to?” asked Aravia, as the whole group sprang to their feet and headed for the stairs. “Look at the hurry we’re in to make it stop.”

  Dranko did most of the talking for the first few minutes, taking Abernathy through his discoveries atop the island that drifted through the Mouth of Nahalm. Abernathy’s pale and anxious face grew downright ashen as Dranko described the disturbing statue being unearthed by the Black Circle. Ernie gulped, not enjoying the thought of anything that would worry an archmage like that.

  “Do you know what the statue was?” he asked when Dranko was done.

  “And who is the sage?” added Dranko. “Lapis sure made it sound like that’s the person in charge.”

  Abernathy’s face tightened, as though he was rememb
ering something unpleasant. “Remember, I’ve not been keeping up on recent events. I don’t know who the sage is. But the statue sounds like a Blood Gargoyle. We thought they had all been destroyed but…it’s…well, it’s beyond your ability to handle. Also I doubt it’s meant for you, so don’t worry any more about it.”

  Abernathy gave what appeared to be a reassuring smile, but Ernie knew better. Ernie knew that expression because of how often he made it himself. Abernathy was putting on a brave face, but inside he was terrified. Which in turn made him terrified.

  “Listen carefully,” said the old wizard. “Thanks to Dranko’s gambit with Lapis, not only can I make some preparations regarding the gargoyle, but we also know the Sharshun are still keenly interested in the Eyes of Moirel. My next task for you is to go to the Seven Mirrors in time for Flashing Day, which is just over a week away. It’s a near certainty the Sharshun will try something, especially if they think Mokad has an Eye. Be ready for anything.”

  Abernathy paused, though he obviously had more to say. His lips moved as if he was rehearsing a speech, and he took a deep breath. “At our last meeting I mentioned something called the Crosser’s Maze, which I and some of my associates feel is our best bet to make Naradawk’s prison a permanent one. What I did not tell you is that the primary impediment to retrieving it is that it lies on a continent called Kivia, on the far side of the accurately named Uncrossable Sea.”

  “I can see how that would be a problem,” said Dranko.

  “But there is a way across it, or at least there was, long ago,” said Abernathy. “During Naloric’s long reign of terror he acquired allies from Kivia, armies of fire-worshippers, and these did not cross the sea. Rather, their forces had arrived through a large enchanted archway hidden in the forest near the very tip of the Balani Peninsula. We surmise that the archway has a twin in Kivia, and that the Kivians had a way of activating them such that they connected the two kingdoms. But by the time we found the arch on our side, it was inert, no more than a free-standing sculpture in a large trampled-down clearing.

  “The Kivian Arch was the subject of much study and scrutiny in the following years, but our finest wizards and sages could not figure out how to turn it back on. After the war King Garos had a significant military detachment stationed nearby, should the Kivians attempt a second invasion, but King Argis after him disbanded that force. Claimed it was an unnecessary drain on the treasury.

  “Over the years, one of my fellow archmagi, Ozella, has had agents of her own down there on the peninsula, just to keep an eye on the Kivian Arch. The most recent of these is a fellow named Levec who’s been living in the town closest to the arch, a peaceful little hamlet called Seablade Point. Levec sent Ozella brief updates like clockwork, once every month for more than a hundred months in a row—until two months ago.”

  Ernie’s voice was almost a whisper. “What do you think happened to him?”

  “I don’t know,” said Abernathy. “But it’s possible that there’s been some development involving the Kivian Arch itself, and that Levec is either still investigating it or has died as a result of it. Given the confluence of current events, with the Black Circle and the Sharshun emerging just as the portal in Verdshane has started to crack, it’s possible that the forces of evil, such as they are, have also opened the Kivian Arch or are in the process of opening it. If there’s someone masterminding all these efforts, perhaps they are trying to coordinate Naradawk’s arrival with military forces from Kivia.”

  Ernie was utterly bewildered by all of this, not to mention terrified. What in all the Gods’ names was he doing smack in the middle of such tumultuous, world-threatening circumstances? The weight of so much responsibility was going to crush him.

  “After you have gone to the Seven Mirrors,” said Abernathy, “it is possible that I will be…unavailable to debrief you. In that eventuality, I want you to go next to Seablade Point and determine what, if anything, is happening concerning the Kivian Arch. If our enemies are activating it, we may be able to use that to our advantage. Oh, and be discreet. Don’t mention the Spire, or the involvement of archmagi, unless absolutely necessary.”

  “For how long will you be unavailable?” asked Aravia. “And I’m still waiting on those spellbooks, when you get the chance.”

  “I don’t know how long,” Abernathy sighed. “I have now shared with you most of the known details about the perils the Kingdom of Charagan faces. You may need to show some additional initiative in the coming days or weeks, in case I find myself preoccupied.”

  Ernie could read between the lines and found the idea unsettling. “Uh, sir? We’re not really world-saving heroes.” He cast an apologetic look at Tor, who had opened his mouth to protest. “Don’t you have anyone better?”

  “I’m afraid not. During the years of peace that followed Naloric’s death, the Spire faded away to almost nothing. Once we counted the King of Charagan among our number, not to mention the dukes, several generals, priests from most of the Travelers and Pikon, and assorted other heroes of the realm. But you can keep a coalition together only for so many decades, during which meeting after meeting consists of aging wizards telling a room full of important people that there’s nothing new to talk about. Our gatherings became fewer, our membership dwindled.

  “When King Garos died, his son King Argis decided that the Spire was no longer worth the trouble and expense. Oh, he understood, I think, the importance of what we wizards were doing, keeping Naradawk locked away in his prison world. But the Spire itself…King Argis felt it was a threat to his sovereignty, an organization that could act on its own and make decisions for the good of the kingdom even if the king personally disagreed with those decisions. So he ordered the archmagi to continue their work and disbanded the Spire.

  “Now it’s just the five of us, and we spend all our time in our towers, keeping Naradawk out. Levec, our one outside agent other than yourselves, has stopped sending reports. I don’t mean to make you feel pressured, but right now the world is in danger and you seven represent our best opportunity to measure that danger, and possibly stop it.”

  Ernie felt faint. “But—”

  “With all due respect, your wizardliness,” Dranko interrupted, “that still doesn’t make sense. Spire or no Spire, we’re just…just some people. Tor’s a great fighter, sure, but there must be some Stormknights of Werthis who are better. And Aravia’s just an apprentice; that Serpicore guy she keeps talking about must be a more powerful wizard. And Delioch knows, you could have put on a blindfold and picked a better channeler than me. If Charagan is about to go to the Hells in a kingdom-sized hand-basket, why are you giving all the responsibility for it to a bunch of nobodies?”

  “It’s a fair question,” said Abernathy. “My spell picked you, for reasons—”

  “Yes, yes, you told us already,” interrupted Dranko. “For reasons you don’t understand. But where did that spell come from? Who told you to cast it? What are you not telling us?”

  Abernathy’s face was oddly bulbous in the crystal ball, and it was hard to tell whom among them he was looking at, but Ernie thought the old wizard’s gaze flicked over to where Kibi and Aravia stood at the end of their semicircle. His bearded face crinkled into an apologetic smile.

  “I don’t…I can’t tell you that, Dranko. You’ll have to believe me when I tell you that each and every one of you has a vital role to play in the days to come.”

  Ernie couldn’t keep silent. “Even Mrs. Horn?”

  Abernathy looked at them sadly but said nothing. Then a chime echoed from somewhere behind Abernathy, its sound floating out from the crystal ball. Ernie guessed by now what it signified—that Naradawk had his hands on the bars of his cell and was rattling them with extra vigor.

  “The Seven Mirrors, and Seablade Point!” cried Abernathy, and the crystal ball went dark.

  “Dammit, but I wish he’d stop doing that,” said Grey Wolf.

  “That was ominous,” said Dranko.

  “He was scared,
” said Ernie. “Abernathy was scared.”

  “No great puzzle ’bout that,” said Kibi. “Man’s been keeping Charagan safe for Gods know how long, and now it’s comin’ apart on ’im.”

  “But he’s got us!” said Tor. “We’ll put things to rights, I know it.”

  “I’d like to know what a Blood Gargoyle is,” said Grey Wolf. “I don’t suppose any of you have heard of it. Aravia?”

  Aravia shook her head no, obviously irked that she didn’t know.

  “My sisters might have information,” said Morningstar.

  Ernie stared at her, surprised.

  The Ellish priestess shrugged. “I suppose it’s not betraying a secret. It’s just that we don’t often have cause to discuss the inner workings of our sisterhood with outsiders. The Ellish Chroniclers maintain extensive historical libraries. The Temple of Ell has a presence in most major cities of Charagan, and I’ve heard the shrine here in Tal Hae has an extensive collection. I could send a letter, or go visit in person I suppose, and ask the Chroniclers to see if they have knowledge of a Blood Gargoyle. Or the Eyes of Moirel, or the Seven Mirrors, or even Abernathy himself.”

  Grey Wolf frowned at her. “How come you haven’t mentioned we had that sort of resource at our disposal?”

  “Because ‘we’ don’t,” said Morningstar sharply. “Ellish archives are not public. Even now I’m not certain that I’m comfortable asking the Chroniclers to do research for the benefit of a wizard’s agenda.”

  “But Abernathy’s protecting the kingdom!” said Ernie. “Surely your sisters will understand how important this is!”