“What’s wrong, Saxthor?” Bodrin asked.
“Somewhere in our belongings is a treacherous item drawing a wraith to us.”
“That’s not possible,” Bodrin said.
“King Ahkenspec assures me it is. One is racing this way right now. We don’t know what the beacon is, so it must be something obscure and ordinary. We must find and destroy it immediately, or the wraith will find us. Go through each thing in our gear and find the item. Every minute brings the wraith closer.”
“A wraith, you say?” Tournak repeated.
The travelers looked at each other, dumbfounded. Then, still in silence, they returned to their rooms, searching through their gear. They inspected every item; clothes tumbled to the floor followed by camping gear, toiletries, everything. After an hour, they still had nothing they thought could be the beacon. They met again with Saxthor.
“I’ve no idea what it could be,” Bodrin said, throwing up his hands.
“Neither do we,” Tournak said. Hendrel nodded. No one had an idea.
“Could magic reveal the evil?” Bodrin asked.
“Since it isn’t living, Sorblade’s runes won’t glow when near it,” Tournak reminded them.
“It must be something that came with Hendrel, as the wraith has followed us since we left the Favriana Fortress,” Bodrin said.
“I brought nothing with me but my old belongings from my days on the Hadorian border. I never knew you then.”
“What did we buy in Favriana that we still have?” Tournak asked, racking his brain to remember the items he bought in the harbor shops.
The greeter came in. “The king urges you to hurry. Dawn is still an hour away, and the wraith is within sight.”
“What would this item look like?” Bodrin asked.
Saxthor saw Bodrin’s furrowed brow and suspected some thought was forming in his head.
“It could be any ordinary item. It communicates through magic, so the item itself wouldn’t appear unusual,” Saxthor said.
Bodrin rushed out. ”I’ll be right back.” He returned with his hunting knife in hand to the silent group staring at him. He placed the unsheathed knife on the table.
“Hold your ring above the knife and turn the Celestial Fire Topaz to it.”
Saxthor looked at Bodrin in disbelief. “That knife has always been with you, Bodrin, except when you sleep, or do you sleep with it still attached to you, too? I gave it to you on our ninth birthdays.”
Bodrin didn’t smile.
In the silence, Saxthor extended his arm, then index finger, closing his fist. The blue topaz faced the hunting knife. He concentrated on the Celestial Fire Topaz. In an instant, the primal force in Saxthor vibrated in sympathy with the gem’s energy, and a blue flame shot from the crystal. The knife glowed red then shot back at Saxthor. Before it reached him, it exploded in brilliant white light, blasting fragments across the room. No one spoke.
“What happened?” Tournak asked.
Bodrin stood dazed and staring. “Remember when the soldiers came up on us so soon after we started to brawl, Hendrel? Remember the one that stepped from the back and had such an evil grin, the one that took the knives?”
“Yes, I remember that now. It was odd that they seemed to be there in an instant. Now that you mention it, I do remember the short, heavily muscled one. He grabbed you right away.” Hendrel still looked puzzled.
“Out of uniform, he’d look remarkably like the orcs we saw at the rock-dwarf mines,” Bodrin said. “If he was an orc, and he recognized who we were …”
“He took your hunting knife there on the wharf,” Saxthor blurted out. “I saw that. I remember thinking how much I hoped he’d return it.”
“Well, he had it all the time we were with the sergeant,” Bodrin said. “When he rejoined us at our release, he smiled that sinister smile and returned my knife. He must’ve switched it with the beacon, disguised as my knife.”
“Why didn’t they kill you there?” Hendrel asked.
“They want what Saxthor is after,” Tournak said in his low, pensive voice. “The orc couldn’t do anything there without betraying his presence in the fortress, in Neuyokkasin itself. He planted the beacon so they could follow us and steal the crown when we have all the pieces.”
The room fell silent.
“With all due respect,” the elf said, “please hurry.”
Saxthor dashed out the door and back to the king. When he entered the throne room, anther warrior elf was conversing with his majesty.
“The wraith will collide with the perimeter shield in less than thirty minutes,” the elf said.
Ahkenspec turned to Saxthor. “If the specter’s negative energy collides with our shield, the resulting sparks will reveal elves live here and are giving refuge to you, Prince Saxthor.” He turned back to the elf. “We must devise a delay until dawn.”
Another elf rushed in. “The vile thing has slowed its approach. It seems confused.”
“Majesty,” Saxthor said, “we’ve destroyed the beacon.”
“That’s what confused the specter, but it won’t delay it long. It knows Saxthor is in these hills now. We must devise a diversion until the sun drives it into hiding.”
“Majesty, if the beacon drew the wraith here, could we confuse it further by scattering the shattered fragments?”
“The thing is within a quarter-hour of striking the shield. We don’t have enough time to send runners with the fragments far enough to delay it.”
“It will need to find shelter before the sun rises,” Saxthor said. “We passed a dilapidated homestead not far from here. Could we rush the fragments there? It might be enough to draw the wraith. It will likely remain there as it is the only shelter from fast approaching sunrise.”
Ahkenspec raised his hand and finger, smiling at the idea. “When the wraith shelters there, we’ll burn it down, exposing the vile thing to direct sunlight. The rays will kill it without expending excessive energy that would draw the Dark Lord’s attention. Excellent suggestion, Saxthor.” He looked to the soldier elf and raised his eyebrows. “Make it happen, at once.”
Saxthor joined the king up on the hillside sheltered behind an invisibility veil. The soldier raced toward the homestead building as the knife fragments, together again, drew the vile black haze.
“He won’t make it there ahead of the specter,” the greeter elf said. He chewed his fingernails.
Ahkenspec remained stone-faced. “Tie the last fragment to an arrow and shoot it far to the left of the homestead. That might confuse the thing just long enough for our elf to place the beacon fragments and get away unseen.”
The arrow flew out into the predawn darkness. Everyone held their breaths, staring at the black shimmer in the moonlight. The wraith hesitated. Elves and men froze. The vile thing drifted again, toward where the arrow had flown. Then it stopped, hovered, and turned back toward the shield.
“It’s coming back this way,” Tournak said.
A sudden chirp from a lark and the wraith froze. The black vapor rose as if to check the horizon, then flew again toward the abandoned homestead. The soldier elf slipped out the back when the wraith approached. It appeared as though the ghostly structure sucked the ebony haze into it.
Two hours later, when the sun’s direct rays streamed over the hills onto the building, the elves set fire to the old, dry wood. Ashes soon fluttered in the sunlight. The wraith was no more.
*
Saxthor returned to his companions. “Go to bed and get some sleep. We’ll leave as soon as we’ve rested a bit. If we stay here, other searchers will discover the elves, and we’ll be the cause of their destruction. We must put as much distance between us and this place as we can.”
The adventurers rose midday and took their leave of the gracious elves. Saxthor sent his appreciation to King Ahkenspec through the chamberlain. The travelers left the tranquil village and started back for the outside world.
As they departed, Bodrin looked back, thinking of the lost knif
e and more.
“I’ll miss those maidens.” Still glancing at the youthful elves that followed them, Bodrin spoke to the elf guide. “Everyone here seems so young and beautiful,” Bodrin observed the middle-aged guide and blushed.
The guide elf continued to gaze ahead and retained his blank composure.
“Unless killed, we live indefinitely aging slowly.”
“I suppose so,” Bodrin said, then laughed. He watched the elf, but his expression remained the same. They continued along in silence, and Bodrin nodded to a particular maiden dancing along beside them that he’d seen the night before.
“That girl there, she can’t be any older than I am.” Bodrin saw the guide’s profile when he glanced at the damsel. His expression, or lack of it, remained unchanged.
“Elspeth, yes ... She’s a bit headstrong, but that’s youth for you. She just turned four hundred thirty-seven last week,” the guide said stone-faced. They continued in silence, but Bodrin looked again at Elspeth, who smiled seductively at him.
When they reached the tunnel, through which they would travel again to the outside world, their guide stopped and bowed to Saxthor. The group passed by, with Bodrin last. He repeated, “Four hundred thirty-seven, you say?”
“Four hundred thirty-seven, and her mother can’t do a thing with her,” the elf said with a bow as Bodrin walked into the tunnel.
* * *
The tunnel, indeed the cave entrance, disappeared behind them. In its place was the solid rock hillside. There was no trace of the passageway.
The men, Delia, and Twit descended the hill and followed the lakeside up out of the valley and back to the edge of the desert. In silence, they trudged along in a forced march all morning, thinking about the beautiful place they’d left. The shock of the false knife among them caused part of the silence.
“How did you know the ring’s fire would destroy the knife, Bodrin?” Hendrel asked. Before Bodrin could answer, Hendrel added, “How long have you known Saxthor was a wizard?”
“A wizard!” Saxthor erupted, turning on a heel.
Bodrin grinned at Saxthor’s shock. “I think I’ve sensed something extraordinary about him since we were kids. When he came out of Yamma-Mirra Heedra’s lair, there was a peculiar look on his face. I’ve only seen it once before… on Memlatec’s face. Something happened in the dragon’s cave that changed his broken ring; he didn’t find it. I don’t think he’s a wizard, but he has control of the ring’s power,” Bodrin said.
Staring at Bodrin, Saxthor stood in silence, recovering his senses.
“When Bodrin called me to use the ring, I just let go, and the rest happened. I’m still uncertain about my command of the ring. I’ve only used it once or twice. Memlatec has a lot of explaining to do when we see him next. If we see him again.”
They turned northeast and marched off, single file, along the edge of the Pundar Hills toward the river and Botahar with Saxthor turning the ring on his finger.
* * *
Earwig was running low on servants, but she was able to summon one of the Dark Lord’s wraiths to search for Saxthor. Each evil association further corrupted her monstrous soul. Her hatred grew of itself and consumed her more each day.
Prince Saxthor stood between Neuyokkasin’s throne and her, she was sure of it. She would destroy him no matter the cost. Now that the Dark Lord was aware of Saxthor’s energy trace and brought it to her attention, she wouldn’t fail again.
“Fly across the Vos and pick up Saxthor’s trail on the western edge of Lake Pundar. He’s there somewhere; I’m certain of it. Don’t return without killing him, or I’ll see to it the king never releases your soul from torment.”
The wraith searched by night along the shore, but the trail was cold, and it lost days in the search. After going up and down the lake night after night and finding no trace of the prince’s party, the wraith searched creeks and streams that fed into it. With no sightings and no trail leading into the interior, the specter concluded the fugitives must have escaped along a streambed. It slithered up several watercourses before finally finding a single scrap of evidence. It then followed the faint trail over the rocky soil to the desert. Again, it lost precious time crisscrossing the sands looking for tracks. It was always lagging behind Saxthor’s party after dry winds blew away their trail.
It was prowling around the desert edges when the forest elves spotted it from the observation ledge overlooking the border hills. They reported the creature to King Ahkenspec, who ordered it observed. They were adept at destroying wraiths from their days in the Wizard Wars. They would have relished the opportunity to dispatch one again, except it would bring its creator’s attention to them. Having seen Saxthor venture into the desert, they deduced the wraith was searching for him, and thus they had brought him into their world to warn him.
Earwig went berserk when she felt the second wraith vanish. She ranted and raved in her tower for a full day. The poor duke trembled, hiding behind his gold in the dungeon. Again his blood was too low, too weak, and his health too feeble to be of use. Servants fled the Earwighof, having again noted the sudden and unexplained disappearance of one of their own. The simultaneous appearance of some dark thing slinking from the tower started the stampede.
The bedraggled witch became even more frantic to destroy the second in line to the throne. The Dark Lord would be watching her clumsy efforts to eliminate what he must perceive as a minor annoyance. He’d frown on her repeated failed efforts and question her usefulness. The thought of his retribution turned her stomach. What could she do now to strike at the prince who’d grown to manhood?
* * *
The exhausted travelers straggled into Botahar. The desert’s heat drained them even after their refreshing stopover in the elfin village.
“Anyone want to offer advice about the town?” Saxthor asked.
“All I want is rest, a decent meal of something fresh, not dried, and vegetables,” Bodrin said.
“What can you tell us of Botahar?” Saxthor asked Hendrel.
“Botahar is the most important trading center for Sengenwha’s interior. The products from most of northeastern Sengenwha come to Botahar for trade locally or shipment down the river to Lake Pundar and points south. There’re numerous shops and warehouses, and fine homes of merchants made rich off trade with river traffic.”
“Botahar boasted several inns for travelers before we left the continent,” Tournak said. “At least they were thriving when I last had news of the town.”
No one thought much of four more men straggling into town with a dog. Flitting from awning to awning, no one even noticed Twit.
“Let’s stop at the first inn we come to,” Bodrin said. “I’m too tired to think.”
“We should find the Shepherd’s Crook Inn at the edge of town and away from the river,” Tournak said. “Once before, I passed through Botahar, and that inn was a safe place then.”
“It’s still there,” Hendrel said.
Dropping back to let Hendrel lead, Saxthor patted Delia. The others caught up. “You lead the way then. I have no idea where it is. I’ve never been to Botahar before.”
“Keep together and stay on the back streets to the inn,” Tournak said. “Tired as we are, we don’t want to draw attention to ourselves. After the experience with the medrax and the wraith, we know things are hunting us.”
The town was handsome, with well-kept homes and little gardens off the river’s main street. Thatched roofs on the cottages made them appear cozy. Larger homes of timber and stone reflected the city’s former prosperity. The lack of paint on some suggested this year, business had been less than expected, and owners had put off repairs for another season, as in Olnak.
The group passed along quaint streets under the light of occasional streetlamps. Sweet oak smoke wafted down the street with sounds of music. Finally, the weary travelers reached the Shepherd’s Crook Inn on the city’s outskirts. A smile on the plump proprietor’s face indicated he was happy to see them.
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br /> “How’s business, innkeeper?” Tournak asked.
“It’s not so good.” The innkeeper’s smile disappeared. “The autumn river traffic fell off this year. The farmers who usually stay with me failed to show up this season. I hear floods devastated Sengenwha’s best agricultural region in the spring. A drought followed this summer.”
He threw open the door and ushered in his unexpected guests.
“Come in; come in, my friends,” the innkeeper said, beaming again. “What may I offer such distinguished gentlemen?”
“Bring us food,” Bodrin said. He looked at the others, “I’m starving.”
“We’ll require food and lodging for the night, innkeeper,” Tournak said. “I trust you have rooms for us?”
“I have the finest rooms in the city,” the innkeeper said.
“We’ll need two rooms, a bath, and lots of food,” Saxthor said.
Bodrin perked up. “And vegetables, lots of vegetables.”
“This way, gentlemen.” The innkeeper led them into the dining room, where patrons had eaten earlier at the large central table.
Saxthor popped back outside. “We’ll see you in the morning, Twit.”
Twit ruffled his feathers on the overhang and settled down for the night near the inn’s welcoming lamp, the hub of unlucky lingering moths.
The travelers slumped into chairs at a smaller table close to the fireplace. Delia curled up at Saxthor’s feet, awaiting her dinner. The warmth from the dying fire was refreshing, and the innkeeper added another log to the coals. Candlelight flicked a golden hue on each face.
“I’ll send Cook with food, and I’ll get you something to drink while you wait.”
The innkeeper disappeared around the corner to the kitchen. Fragrant ribbons of roasted meats, simmering vegetables, bread, and pies washed over the dining room, swirling around the starving band. Bodrin all but gnawed on the table.
“What’s the plan for tomorrow, Saxthor?” Hendrel asked.
“We’ll discuss that later, not here in the public room,” Tournak said.
Saxthor nodded agreement. “You never know who’s listening.”
The smiling proprietor returned with a pitcher of ale and one of milk. A scullery maid followed with a tray of earthenware mugs, wooden plates, utensils, and cloth napkins. Again, the proprietor disappeared through the kitchen door. Soon the cook and assistant returned with heaping trays and bowls of steaming foods filling, the table’s center.
The Neuyokkasinian Arc of Empire Series: Books 1-3 Box Set High, Epic Fantasy on a Grand Dragon Scale! Kindle Edition Page 34
