“The rock-dwarves stay with their stone according to General Socockensmek,” Bodrin said. “The living forest must seem creepy to them. Besides, we didn’t notice signs of them when we camped nearby before. We’ll have to keep an eye open for the orcs, though.”
“We need rest, and Habbernee can’t go much farther without our help. We’ll camp here tonight,” Saxthor watched Habbernee. “I hope these tree limbs will hide us from prying eyes. This is the first time the three of us have had a chance to talk, Habbernee.”
Habbernee sat and staring off at the mountain.
Bodrin shook his head. “I don’t think he’s listening.”
“Habbernee, why would you come so far over treasure rumors?”
Habbernee turned back to the others.
“The apprentice wizard, Mek from Tashia, you remember him? He told stories at the court school. In his training days, he’d heard of the fabled Crown of Yensupov and its lost jewels. Also, he talked about a dragon’s cache hidden in these mountains. I wasn’t the best scholar in school, and I wanted adventure. I’d hoped I might find some loot and be a rich, popular hero at court. You never cared for the court’s approval, but I needed to be a part of the aloof popular crowd.”
“So, you came here in search of the Crown of Yensupov or dragon treasure?” Bodrin asked. He winked at Saxthor.
Saxthor sat scrunched up, arms clasping his knees. “I’ve heard enough to be afraid to ask more.”
“The wizards created the crown to unite men and our strengths in one unified, concentrated power to aid them in the Third Wizard War. Here’s the good part. The sorcerers selected seven crystals and infused them with the essence of men’s strengths, whatever they are. Those seven jewels are supposed to be the most beautiful in the world, in part for their beauty, but also the power. The thing worked, I guess. They say the crown’s power broke the Dark Lord’s forces at the moment of his victory over the warlocks at Wizards’ Hall. I didn’t much believe such stuff at first. Mek liked to get attention, you remember. The more stories he told, the more I began to suspect some truth in the tales.”
“Sounds made up to me, though I’ve often wondered if old Memlatec wasn’t part of something bigger long ago,” Bodrin said. “Keep going.”
Saxthor gazed at his ring. At least some stories were true, he thought.
“Mek said after the Wizard Wars, the magicians worried the crown’s power would corrupt whoever possessed such potential. They recognized envy, greed, and hunger for power easily overcome people, so they removed the crown’s jewels. The old sorcerers scattered and hid them who knows where. Mek’s stories sounded like a lot of rubbish to me, but he was convincing.”
“Yes, he must’ve persuaded you the tales were true,” Saxthor said.
Habbernee paced in the moonlight as he told his story. Saxthor followed his agitated movements. He glanced over at Bodrin, who returned the gander.
“Imagine such jewels,” Habbernee said. He turned to Saxthor and squatted down to look him in the face. “They scattered the gems; one’s supposed to be here on Tixos.”
“So, did you hope to find the crown?” Bodrin asked.
“I’m getting to that.” Habbernee twitched and swung back and forth between Saxthor and Bodrin.
“Here,” Saxthor said. He handed Habbernee his dinner. “Better eat while it’s hot.” He handed Bodrin his food, and they sat back and ate while Habbernee chattered.
“The Conclave of Wizards, I’m serious, that’s what he called the meeting. Those guys got together at the Wizard’s Hall and picked a young wizard to make a magical crown for the precious stones. Synchronized resonance, I think Mek said, whatever that means. Well anyway, collectively, the crystals worked through the crown to magnify those powers in men. The crown brought out the best in mankind to stop the king of Dreaddrac’s advance.”
“So the Crown of Yensupov unified and intensified the seven human strengths together as one?” Bodrin asked.
“Yeah.”
“Sounds like a lot of responsibility for the one who wore the crown,” Bodrin said.
“I was thinking the same thing,” Saxthor said. “Even at court in Konnotan, people crawl all over each other for power.”
“Well, how did the Dark Lord get enough power to beat the other wizards?” Bodrin asked.
“In secret, the Dark Lord found some energy source, a planetary gradient, Mek said, and experimented. His earliest toys were those rock-dwarves up in the mountain,” Habbernee said. His voice trailed off as he viewed the peak.
“Habbernee, you were telling us about the Dark Lord’s power,” Bodrin said. He looked at Saxthor.
I think Bodrin understands the hold such wealth has on Habbernee, Saxthor thought.
“Habbernee, you’d better eat your dinner; the treasure has hold of you,” Saxthor said.
Habbernee picked up his food but barely ate as he continued his tale.
“The Dark Lord’s first creations were stupid and clumsy like the rock-dwarves he used for tunneling, digging ores, making weapons, and such stuff under Mount Munattahensenhov in Dreaddrac. Anyway, later, he bred ogres and created orcs, too, in the system of caves and labyrinths under the mountain. No one realized the armies grew underground.
Many wizards retired or had scattered. They weren’t ready to fight Dreaddrac when its armies marched on the Wizards’ Hall. Only by using the Crown of Yensupov to draw together humanity, were the sorcerers able to beat Dreaddrac.”
“What happened to the crown after the war?” Saxthor asked. He was burying the scraps of food from Bodrin’s and his plates but paid full attention to the narrative.
“If the story is true, the crown and the jewels remain hidden. Should Dreaddrac’s sorcerer-king get the reconstructed gizmo, nobody can stop him, or so the tale goes. As guardian, the master wizard was to hide the pieces until the world needs them and the unifying power once more.”
“How did you think you could steal the crystals from an army of rock-dwarves?” Saxthor asked.
“I thought I might figure something out after I found treasure.”
“You didn’t plan things out well,” Bodrin said. He laughed, but neither of the other two did.
The prince shuffled on his seat. “And you believed school tales.”
“You saw the rock-dwarves and their coffers. If there’s truth to the story, the Cobalt Blue Sapphire of Loyalty is supposed to be somewhere on Tixos. I came looking for the jewel, but the miners found me first.”
Saxthor settled back on the log and felt a rock mash into his hip. He pulled it out of his pocket. He couldn’t remember picking up any rocks, but then he remembered Habbernee stuck stuff in his pants in the treasure vault. On glancing down at the rock, its blue richness surprised him even in the shadow of his leg. His heart skipped a beat. He shoved the sapphire back in his trousers. Still chattering, Habbernee failed to detect the discovery.
“You Okay, Saxthor, you seem pale,” Bodrin asked.
“I’m fine. Who was the young master wizard who made the crown? Did Mek say?”
Habbernee laughed. “I imagined Memlatec did at the time. Mek didn’t say.”
Bodrin poked the fire. “Just an old tale.”
“Oh well, I guess it doesn’t matter,” Saxthor said. He turned from the others and pulled his blanket over him.
In the morning light, Saxthor woke to find Bodrin sound asleep. Habbernee had gone in the night and left a short note to say he was going back for the treasure.
“We’ll have to let him go. More lives than his are at stake,” Saxthor said. “Wake up, Bodrin. Habbernee has gone. Nothing more anyone can do for him. We have to get back to General Socockensmek and warn Memlatec about what’s going on inside the mountain. Obsessed, Habbernee has chosen to take his chances on his own.”
Bodrin and Saxthor bundled up their gear in silence. As they were about to retrace their trail to the general, a twig snapped near the wood’s edge. The boys froze.
“The rock-dwarves aren’t
trailing us here,” Bodrin said. “They stay in rocky places.”
“Something’s blocking our trail out of the woods. Lead on deeper into the forest where we can hide and make out what’s coming,” Saxthor said.
Within minutes, orcs appeared and searched the underbrush.
“The rock-miners must’ve sent them to search for us beyond the mountain,” Bodrin said.
Saxthor pointed. “The orcs have two wolves with them.”
Minds attuned, they crept deeper into the forest and fled for their lives.
“Those were saber-wolves. They were like those fanged wonders we killed on the way here.”
“I think so. Memlatec said the Dark Lord bred saber-wolves from the most fiendish of primal wolves.”
“We can’t outrun them.” Bodrin was breathing hard as he ripped his way across the vegetation.
Saxthor remembered he had seen a skull with huge fangs in the tunnel. He was sure the bones came from a saber-wolf. He struggled with a thorn that snared his tunic. Bodrin grabbed Saxthor’s arm and jerked him deeper into the woods.
“We have to move fast if we hope to get away from saber-wolves,” Bodrin said over his shoulder. “They’re catching up. We’ll have to find another method to get away.”
The fugitives hurried, hacking the thick underbrush where necessary, but the years of leaves and fallen branches were deep. Briars took their toll, slowing them further. All of a sudden, Bodrin’s hands flew up as he grabbed for a branch. Coming up fast behind, Saxthor ran into Bodrin, gripped him, and pulled him back as leaf litter, gravel, and limbs cascaded over a precipice.
Bodrin gawked down. “Cripes, that was close.”
Saxthor stared down beside him. “We almost ran off this cliff. The drop-off is nearly straight down to that small stream.”
“This is our lucky break.” Bodrin’s knife was hacking a vine. “Tie this off tight on a tree at the edge. We’ll climb down the embankment. Wolves can’t get down the steep rock wall. The orcs are too muscle-bound to handle a trailing plant.”
Saxthor did as Bodrin directed. Using vines and careful footwork, the boys scrambled to descend the seemingly endless cliff to the stream below.
“This is no stream. It’s a river. Now what?” Bodrin asked.
Saxthor headed to a log wedged in tree roots from an earlier flood. “Find a couple of logs, and we’ll tie them together.” After binding two additional tree trunks, they shoved off into the current and rode the raft downriver for several miles.
A massive bough jutted out into the stream, bobbing in the current on the far side. It caught Bodrin’s attention, and he pointed. “Steer for the limb.”
Saxthor maneuvered the raft into the twigs, and the current swept the raft alongside the thick branch. The boys scrambled up the wood and walked on fallen debris until they reached hard ground that wouldn’t record tracks.
“Where are we?” Bodrin asked.
“Well, since the water flows to the sea, we floated west toward the setting sun and away from the general. We’ll have to get above the low grounds and head east to the island’s center if we’re to find Socockensmek.”
The rest of the day, Bodrin and Saxthor squeezed through reed beds, thick underbrush, briars, and fallen vegetation. At dusk, they came out onto the eroded mountains’ dry, rocky slopes in the interior.
“General Socockensmek is somewhere out there,” Saxthor said.
“How will we find him?”
“We’ve lost the orcs and saber-wolves. At least we can camp for the night and get some rest. Tomorrow, we’ll go straight out across a ridge and hope to find tracks of our earlier trek. It hasn’t rained, so the tracks should still be out there. If we locate some footprints, we should be close to where we left Socockensmek.”
They hiked along a ridge crest in hot dust all morning and at mealtime, discovered a single imprint in the sand. Based on their sighting of the Highback Mountains from where they were, the general had to be nearby. Risking discovery, they called out for the elderly leader but heard no reply.
Bodrin discovered more footprints. “Three sets of tracks go over the ridges. The general was with us at this point, but Tournak had returned to the adjutant. We need to go left.”
Soon they came to the ledge where they left the old man, but he was gone. Another set of footsteps appeared. The general and presumably Tournak left tracks, headed back south to the general’s compound. The boys followed the path and caught up with the men one day’s journey from the general’s house. Socockensmek was resting on a rock as Tournak stood sentry for trouble.
“Saxthor!” Bodrin pointed as they approached.
“A wild boar, the hog is stalking them,” Saxthor said. He drew Sorblade.
“They can’t see it. The crazed animal is creeping up on them from behind the ridge.”
The boar charged up over the crest. Grunts proclaimed the enraged pig’s presence as with slashing tusks; the beast raced straight for the general. Socockensmek tried to stand, but his broken leg delayed the effort. The hog grazed Tournak’s thigh as it sped by, and Tournak fell to the ground.
The boys dashed up, surprising the attacker that hadn’t seen them. A double-handed, overhead arc with Sorblade and Saxthor decapitated the wild pig less than a yard from the stunned general, propped up and unable to evade the onslaught.
“Thought you could use some help,” Saxthor said to the men gawking at the prostrate carcass at their feet. “How’s the leg, General?” Saxthor wiped Sorblade clean and returned his rapier to the scabbard.
Bodrin was inspecting the pig. “Ham for dinner.”
Socockensmek slumped back, resting again, on the rock behind him. It took him a minute to recover from his almost certain doom. He studied Saxthor’s new demeanor.
“You did a good job resetting my limb. I’ll heal if wild boars don’t eat me. What’s happened to you? I perceive new confidence in you both. I’m guessing from this fresh self-assurance, you achieved your objective?”
“Yes, and you’ve quite a ring on your finger, Saxthor,” Tournak said. He stood again, having wrapped a piece of torn cloth around the cut on his leg.
Saxthor raised his hand and flashed the dragon ring for the men’s observation. “Well, let’s say I found what I went looking for and more.” His straight stance left no doubt Saxthor was no longer a victim of self-doubt. He pulled Bodrin forward. “Bodrin saved us from saber-wolves. You’ll need to let Memlatec know rock-dwarves and orcs in large numbers, live in the Highbacks. They’re mining and forging lots of weapons and armor.”
“Saber-wolves too, you say,” the general said. “Did you tangle with a saber-wolf?”
Bodrin shook his sword, grinning.
“How’re you so sure rock-dwarves are making weapons in the mountain?” Tournak asked. His brow furrowed, staring at Saxthor. “You’re not telling us everything.”
“Nope.”
The general beamed, leaning on the wizard and winced when he turned to hobble out of the hills.
“How bad is your leg?” Saxthor asked. He scrutinized the bandage.
“Well, I’ll not be running from saber-wolves anytime soon, I hope,” Socockensmek chuckled.
“Will it heal, right?”
Socockensmek stood straight. “It’s not your fault, Saxthor. These things happen.”
“I’m responsible for most of this trouble.” Saxthor shook his head.
Socockensmek exchanged glances with Tournak and said, “You carry a heavy burden, My Prince, but the fault is not yours.”
Recovering back at home, the general’s gleaming smile dispelled the fellowship’s sadness at the exiles leaving.
“I’ll be retiring now. I’ve fulfilled my pledge to your grandfather to forewarn the crown of the Dark Lord’s rise here.”
The night before their departure, the travelers stayed up enjoying the cozy fire and talked of their adventures. Saxthor didn’t mention what happened in Yamma-Mirra Heedra’s lair, but his self-confidence, introspection, and a
n increased sense of responsibility reflected a new maturity.
“I returned here and sent your adjutant to Tixumemnese with a sealed letter for Memlatec,” Tournak said. “He was to send the dispatch to Memlatec at the Wizard’s Tower outside Konnotan by way of a Neuyokkasinian ship. Will you be all right alone until your aide returns?”
“Indeed, I shall be.”
Tournak and his charges took their leave of Socockensmek the next morning and hurried down the neglected road toward Tixumemnese. They offered to take their old friend with them, but he refused to abandon his house. He insisted that at his age, his recovery would be lengthy but faster at home.
Halfway to Tixumemnese, they came around a thicket, and Tournak thrust out his hand, stopping the boys. His head moved side-to-side as he searched and focused further along at a clump of scraggly trees.
“What?” Saxthor asked.
“Look behind the tree on the right -- in the shadows?” Tournak said. “Someone is hiding, watching for something … probably us. Earwig hasn’t given up on finding us yet. We’ll have to be extra careful.”
“Watchers again,” Bodrin asked.
Tournak pointed. “We’d better leave the road and go through those woods from here. As long as Earwig thinks we’re lost on the island, we’ll be safer. We can’t let a watcher discover us again. We need to get away from Tixos unnoticed.”
“Tixumemnese is to the southeast,” Saxthor said.
Tournak nodded. “We can work our way positioning by the sun. When the undergrowth gets to be too much, we’ll slip along edges of fields farthest from people or farms.”
“Don’t leave footprints in the plowed ground. We’ll keep inside the undergrowth,” Saxthor said.
“You’re learning.”
Yeah, I’m learning, the prince thought. Mustn’t get over-confident, though.
Within a day’s walk of Tixumemnese, the hikers came upon a swamp edged lake. Watchers monitored the road, so the trio went to the bog. This time no elfin boat stood ready to cross the dreary marshes hung thick with moss and vines.
“We can’t risk discovery by chopping trees. Sound carries far over the water,” Tournak said. “Watchers would hear. We’ll work our way in deeper away from the lane where we might find some logs for a raft to cross the water.”
The Neuyokkasinian Arc of Empire Series: Books 1-3 Box Set High, Epic Fantasy on a Grand Dragon Scale! Kindle Edition Page 19
