Memlatec stroked his beard. “Yes, well, they made up wizards, too, didn’t they?”
Saxthor glanced up and blushed. “Yes, I get your meaning, sorry…” Wide-eyed Saxthor withdrew Sorblade. “I never had a real sword before. I sense warmth. It’s a grown-up’s sword, yet fits my hands just right.” His fingers caressed the metal blade with careful strokes as if the steel were delicate. “This is mine – you’re sure?”
Memlatec nodded.
“The sword should be too heavy, but you handle it like a stick,” Bodrin said. “Wish you’d had your mighty weapon when we came through the briars.”
Saxthor’s confidence swelled. He slashed about with the ease of a war veteran. “This is terrific! Elves, you say?”
Memlatec nodded and grinned. “The sword’s warmth acknowledges you’re the rightful owner, though you’re no elf.”
In an arc, Saxthor topped a sapling. “You sure this is for me?”
“Were it not, it would’ve burned your hand. You’d have dropped the sword right away.”
“Gee, thanks for warning me.” Saxthor sliced through a bush. “I sure do like Sorblade. Real elves made this?”
Bodrin looked down at his hunting knife, his favorite possession. “I bet I can still do more with my hunting knife than you can with your sword.”
The wizard took down the second sword and presented the weapon to Bodrin. “This is your great-uncle’s sword, but it comes without enchantment.”
“Thank you, sir,” Bodrin said. Transfixed, he took the rapier with near reverence. His small fingers felt both hilt and blade as a blind man seeing. He held his treasure out and examined it. Satisfied it was real; he spun round to Saxthor to show his friend his ancestral protection. Assured the heirloom was his, he clutched the sword to his chest.
“Bodrin, I’ve lightened your sword for your size. The spell will dissipate as you grow up. I send with you boys five gifts; your swords are but two.”
Saxthor was engaged in leveling the undergrowth when Memlatec cleared his throat.
“Saxthor, could I have your attention?”
“Oh, sure,” Saxthor sensed his face flush. He lowered the flailing sword and sheathed the blade with care.
“Thank you. Fedra flying above would be too obvious for your journey. Take with you Twit the wren as a lookout. He has sharp eyes, quick actions, and he’s extraordinarily brave if a bit cranky. Take this staff with you and learn to use it for self-defense.” The wizard reached back into the tree’s cavity and took out the pouch.
Saxthor was the first to detect the respectful touch with which the wizard held the small sack. He poked Bodrin, who was slaughtering saplings unrestrained. Memlatec loosened the drawstrings and opened the leather bag whose outside displayed three large red and gold runes. The old man peered into the pouch and stood still for a moment. He reassured himself of something, then reached in and took out two small items.
“Take this necklace and ring. Wear the necklace always, and keep the ring in your pocket until such time as you need it.” Memlatec’s voice was solemn.
Saxthor squeezed the hilt of his sword again to be sure it was real and caught Memlatec’s eyes locked on the jewelry.
-
Twit gave the wizard a sharp peck, flew up in the trees, and peered down at him.
Who’s that old man to call me cranky, anyway? Everyone has an opinion like other things, Twit thought. The boy does appear promising, though obsessed with destruction at the moment. The wizard thinks him special. I’ll be the lookout for the boys in spite of the old man’s remarks, but I’ll leave something on Memlatec’s shoulder just the same.
-
“Ring’s kinda big,” Saxthor said. “I think I’d best keep this thing in my pocket as you said. The center stone is missing, you know. I didn’t break it.”
The boys inspected the necklace. The bauble was simple but wrought of gold in elfin style. Seven large loops were braided into the chain. Between the loops were small disks, each inscribed with runes. Other than that, nothing appeared special.
“This is missing parts, too.” Saxthor looked up with a sheepish grin.
Bodrin giggled. “Bunch of broken junk if you ask me.”
“Hush.”
Memlatec put the chain around Saxthor’s neck, fastening the clasp. Without note, the fastener disappeared; the chain had no beginning or end.
“Hey, the gold is warm, too,” Saxthor said.
Memlatec stared at the necklace. His eyes gleamed beneath his furrowed brow.
“Only you can remove the necklace, Saxthor,” Memlatec said. “Take the utmost care of this trinket. It holds unique power, also. Originally, seven gems filled those loops in the braid, each jewel infused with concentrated power. Those runes on the plates between the loops aligned. They focused the power from the jewels. If the Dark Lord can seize the necklace and reset the gems, no power on the continent could stop him. Above all, you must guard the ornament against theft. So long as the necklace is dormant, the Dark Lord won’t know you possess it.”
Memlatec turned to the Sentinel Pine and cast another spell.
“Put your hand against the cavity’s wood, Saxthor.”
Saxthor was spellbound at what Memlatec said, so Bodrin pushed him forward. The prince leaned against the wood with both hands. The tree cavity shimmered. When Saxthor stood back, his handprints had branded the wood. The cavity then filled with a resin that hardened and reformed the massive bark plate as though the nook had never been there.
Saxthor grinned at Bodrin. “Guess I’m leaving something of myself in the Sentinel Pine for this stuff, huh.”
“I’ll call you back when the time is right.”
“I hope it’s soon.”
Saxthor turned to Bodrin to examine his treasures. They turned back to the wizard, but in his place stood Tournak, clad in forest green and brown for a journey.
“Memlatec returned to the palace to tell the queen we’re going camping,” Tournak said.
*
At the royal palace apartments, Memlatec bowed to the queen in the ornate private reception room. He seemed stiff and resolute, which caused Queen Eleatsubetsvyertsin concern. Her advisor seldom requested an audience and wasted no time on petty court matters.
“You protected and advised our father, and we value the reserved council you offer, Memlatec. We are alarmed at your suspicions that the unfortunate servant’s death in the stairwell may not have been an accident. We will trust you in this matter as you assure us it’s for Saxthor’s safety. This insistence on so sudden an extended camping trip would seem suspect were it proposed by anyone other than our esteemed High Court Wizard.”
The queen studied Memlatec’s demeanor. I miss my son already, she thought. I’m only parting with him having seen the wizard’s concern, even fear for Saxthor.
“I won’t question your purpose if indeed Saxthor is in danger.”
“The chatra will give notice to the court that the prince will be on an excursion in the country. Perhaps not our first minister, but rather his spokesman, to draw less attention and make Saxthor’s absence appear routine. Irkin is the cause of this, but without proof, I can’t restrain her.” The queen projected a calm, regal façade that masked her consuming worry.
“We shall send the court chamberlain to Countess Betsoya this very day before she expects the boys’ return. The chamberlain will explain we’ve recalled Saxthor, and Bodrin to accompany him, for the extended camping trip. We can only hope she’ll accept the explanation of Bodrin’s departure, but a mother has strong instincts, you know.”
Memlatec bowed.
“You should have told us in advance, that we might have expressed a better good-bye to our son.”
“Your concern might have been perceived, Majesty. Spies might have picked that up and forewarned Duchess Irkin.”
* * *
At Vicksylva that afternoon, the court chamberlain arrived without fanfare in his state coach. Countess Betsoya Vicksnak wondered why the
queen sent the official as she descended the grand staircase to the great hall. The countess was not alarmed. She thought the queen must have sent for Saxthor. When told of the excursion, she was most pleased and relieved.
“What a delightful opportunity to learn new things from the camping experience. I expect I’ll hear from Bodrin soon about their exploits.”
She didn’t question the opportunity; Bodrin was with Saxthor his best friend, a prince of Neuyokkasin, and she thought no more of it.
5: Journey Down the Nhy
Saxthor and Bodrin followed Tournak down to the swamp where tannins from eons of fallen cypress leaves stained the dark amber water. They passed along in the embankment’s shadow by the fringe of evergreen ferns deeper into the swamp’s murky shades. After half a mile, Tournak released a visionary spell, which disguised a small, unique boat at the water’s edge.
Saxthor leaned to Bodrin’s ear. “Did you see what I saw?”
“How’d you do that?” Bodrin asked.
“The boat’s not from around here, is it, Tournak?” Saxthor asked. He stepped up to the craft, rubbed the rich, polished wood, and studied its meticulous details.
“Local broad flat-bottom boats are for fishing,” Bodrin said. “I’ve never seen a boat this far up in the bogs. The front and back, they curve up high and round. And the face carved on the bow with big eyes and pointed ears seems almost alive. She’s made for speed, not fishing.”
“At the other end, Bodrin,” Saxthor said, pointing, “a lantern hanging out over the boat’s back half. Who travels a swamp at night?”
Bodrin nodded. “And the hole in the middle seat, and support under it for a mast, they’re for sailing. Where are the mast and sail? This isn’t some smugglers swamp boat.” He turned to Tournak, “Is stuff missing?”
“Bodrin, under the far seat, a chest carved with those rune things like the ones on Sorblade. The big steering oar has carvings on the handle, too. At least the oars seem normal. Well, no, somebody whittled them funny as well.” The two boys shared glances. “What do you think?” Saxthor asked.
“It’s a boat, and it floats,” Bodrin beamed. “This is fantastic, Tournak.”
“You’re easy, Bodrin,” Saxthor said. “Hoping to explore the bogs in this craft, you don’t care if Tournak stole it.”
Bodrin cast Saxthor a pinched mug and turned back to the mentor.
“What kinda boat is this, Tournak?” Bodrin rubbed the smooth, polished wood and carvings. “I’ve never seen one like it before.”
“She’s elfin. They built her long ago when elves still inhabited this land. You won’t come across such a vessel again, I think.”
Tournak got in and moved with careful steps to the stern. The vessel held steady as if she was adjusting for the man’s weight. The wizard took the steering oar and motioned the boys to get in. “Come on; we need to move on.”
“I’ll hold the boat for you, Bodrin,” Saxthor said. “Go ahead. I want to get another look at the face.”
The countenance was handsome with eyes fixed forward, a strong brow and jaw with fine nose and mouth. The ears drew Saxthor’s attention.
“Is this an elf face? From Memlatec’s old stories, I’m thinking these features are elfin. Even in tales, elves are said to have left long ago.”
“People claim they were the best woodworkers and were able to work magic into things they made.” Bodrin was rubbing the runes. “I can barely make out the cracks between the boards. I don’t understand what’s holding the wood together, but I can’t find any water in the bottom.”
As soon as Saxthor seated himself in the bow and Twit flitted to the stern, the vessel slid back from the shore on its own without a sound. It turned and moved forward out into the dark waters with the slightest ripple and wake.
“Bodrin, did you see what I saw?” Saxthor glanced at bug-eyed Bodrin. “I think the eyes move.”
“Yeah, right, the figurehead’s wooden, Saxthor.”
“No, I’m serious; they moved.” Saxthor turned back to face Bodrin. “And Tournak, he’s not steering, he’s talking to the boat. None of us has rowed. This thing is moving by itself.”
Bodrin’s head jerked back and front, both stared at Tournak.
The craft slid between the massive cypress trunks and islands in the swamp without a sound. After a while, the tannic water began to flow as they approached the river. A great blue heron studied them from the shore as a water moccasin slithered through the duckweed close to land.
“How did you find this elfin treasure, Tournak?” Saxthor asked. “I was sure the elves were made-up story people. Today I got a magic sword, and I’m riding in a living boat.”
This is the first time I’ve paid attention to the silent man’s strength, thought Saxthor. He seems to be part of everything around him.
“My grandmother was an elf,” Tournak said. “I rarely divulge that; people don’t believe me. Telling only causes trouble when they find out, so I don’t discuss it often. My relations made the vessel and loaned her to us.”
“Oops!” Bodrin grinned and said in Saxthor’s ear. “Stuck your foot in the old mouth, didn’t you? Hope you don’t get appointed foreign minister when we grow up.”
“I imagine you’re proud to have strengths of both elf and man,” Saxthor said. He shot a brief grin at Bodrin.
“And weaknesses,” Bodrin poked Saxthor in the ribs when Tournak looked away.
“Yes, weaknesses, too,” Tournak said.
Saxthor flicked Bodrin’s ear. “Guess elves have a special hearing, huh, Bodrin?”
Bodrin flushed.
Saxthor chuckled, opened his mouth in a circle, and pointed at Bodrin’s foot, careful their guardian didn’t note the gesture.
The sorcerer stood up without warning and rushed toward them. “Move to the stern when I slip between you and keep down.”
“What’s the matter?” Saxthor asked.
“Do as I say. Stay out of sight and be quiet. Don’t you hear the hiss?”
“What hiss?”
“Move, go now!”
The boys stepped back over the middle seat to the one under the sternpost. Tournak rushed past them over the seats to the bow, where he scanned for why the face on the bow hissed.
“The figurehead would only give warning at something evil, a threat close to the boat.”
“I heard it that time, Saxthor,” Bodrin said. His head spun toward the sound.
Saxthor shuffled toward the middle of the seat; his eyes fixed on the dark water. “I thought I saw a big fin cut through the duckweed beside the boat.”
“Just a big catfish, Saxthor,” Bodrin said. “I don’t think the water is deep enough for monsters. We’re still a ways away from the river.”
“I’m sure I saw something back there,” Saxthor said, his voice high pitched.
“Maybe it’s something in the trees, but nothing is moving in the branches,” Bodrin said. “Tournak, do you see anything, or is this just a practical joke to scare us, so we behave?” Bodrin’s nervous chuckle died in the silence without response. Tournak continued to scan the water in front of the boat.
The water erupted beside the craft as a huge, reptilian hand, green-scaled, with long thin digits and claws shot over the boat’s side and grabbed for Saxthor where he’d just been. The green fingers snatched his sandal with an iron grip, a claw scratching his foot.
“Let go of me!”
Saxthor jerked his leg. His foot slipped from the sandal, and he fell backward over the seat. Panicked, he glanced back. Probing fingers clutched the sandal then slung it away. Bodrin went for his knife. Tournak spun around and hurled a bolt of wizard-fire at the hand groping for Saxthor.
A hellish shriek erupted from the churning water. A smoldering nub trembled where the searching fingers had been. The smoking arm jerked back down into the muddy froth as swirling green duckweed closed over the tannic soup.
“What was that thing?” Saxthor asked. His head jerked from side to side and all around.
“Over there!” Bodrin pointed. “A giant tail as big as my leg.”
Saxthor and Tournak watched the tail too, but transfixed, said nothing. The tail thrashed through the murky liquid, propelling the unseen monster’s body into deeper water, where it disappeared.
“How big was the monster?” Bodrin asked.
“You all right, Saxthor?” Tournak asked. “Did the creature hurt you?”
“I’m okay,” was all Saxthor could muster. He felt his chest heaving over his pounding heart. Sweat beads trickled down his cheeks. Embarrassed, it dawned on him, his face must be red. He huddled under the sternpost, arms, and legs scrunched in a fetal position. He glanced side-to-side, checking for another imminent attack. I can’t stop shaking, he thought. He tucked his face between his knees.
He heard Bodrin’s foot beside him. “It’s okay, Saxthor.”
The prince raised his head to Bodrin, but couldn’t look at his guardian. “Sorry I yelled. The thing caught me by surprise. I won’t shout again.”
“Cripes, Saxthor, I’d have hollered to raise the dead myself,” Bodrin said. He squatted down in the boat’s center in front of Saxthor. A glance and wink at his friend and he was slashing the air with his knife.
“The creature scared us all,” Tournak said. “Such a monster isn’t here by nature.” He moved to the back again, his step lighter and calmer.
“Aunt Irkin sent the thing,” Saxthor said without looking up.
Saxthor released his legs and forced himself to lean forward to pick up the smoldering sandal. He studied it for a moment, then still trembling, pulled it back on his foot.
“She knows where I am.”
Saxthor saw Bodrin and Tournak share glances. He couldn’t hold up his head.
“You can move back to the middle,” Tournak said. “The creature is gone, but better keep your eyes and ears alert.” He returned to the stern, patted Saxthor on the shoulder, and took the steering oar.
“Aunt Irkin hates me so much. It’s more than simple vengeance.”
The Neuyokkasinian Arc of Empire Series: Books 1-3 Box Set High, Epic Fantasy on a Grand Dragon Scale! Kindle Edition Page 6
