"He had snake blood," Garrick said.
Tristam turned to the tribal warrior. "Snake? You mean dragon?"
Garrick shrugged and reached for the sword resting against the table beside him. "Flames burn up and down the sword when it faces either splisskin or dragons."
Kar grunted and waved his hand, and then hurried to take a drink to clear the food he was chewing on. "There's a distant and ancient mingling of blood," he said once he'd swallowed. "Without learning the magical processes Banadis undertook to invoke and restore his own legacy through his sire, it's impossible to say what he is."
"Does it matter?" Garrick asked. "We fought that snakeman in the mountains and he turned into a dragon before he was slain."
Kar held up a finger and said, "Not necessarily. With enough magic and power, any being can learn to transform to look like another. It is a complex process I've never felt the need to investigate thoroughly, but I can tell you that it requires an understanding of mass and energy, as well as the means of—"
"Kar!" Alto rebuked the wizard
"Wizard, enough!" Tristam growled at the same time as Alto spoke.
The two men looked at each other while Kar glowered at both of them. "Uneducated louts, the both of you," he muttered before tearing off a chunk of bread and dipping it into a bowl of soup.
"It seems some things never change." Tristam chuckled.
"And some things do. Tell us what news of the mountains?" Alto asked after sharing the baron's smile.
Tristam sighed and said, "War, from the sounds of it. But not with us. I've heard from my scouts that Queen Rosalyn marches on the elves in the forests west of the Northern Divide. Or at least, her ogres and the Knights of Leander do."
Karthor started to rise from his seat but caught himself. "The knights?" the priest asked. "Why would they do this?"
"Sir Celos and Dame Aleena lead them," Tristam said. He winked at Patrina and added, "Yes, the same Aleena who used to leave our beau red-faced and speechless."
Patrina scowled and looked down at her food. She glanced up at Alto and saw that some of Aleena's effects remained: he was blushing furiously and looking like he'd been caught with his hand stealing from a church collection plate.
"That was a short while back, but the latest reports are at odds with that," the baron admitted. "Word has it Aleena took a dispute with the ogres to the queen and earned herself a title for it."
"A title?" Karthor asked. "She's already a paladin. What more does she require?"
Tristam chuckled. "I don't know if require is the word for it. She's been named general of the queen's armies."
Alto was the first to recover from the shock of the news. "What happened to the old general?"
"An ogre named Graak," Tristam confirmed. "He—"
"Graak?" Garrick blurted out as he rose from his own chair. He held his sword in his hand and, in spite of the blade remaining sheathed, his eyes seemed to possess a blue fire of their own. "The ogre?"
Tristam nodded. "You know of him?"
"His war band butchered some of my people. I drove him back and thought I dealt him a blow that would kill him."
"Ahh, that explains the rumors of him being a eunuch."
Garrick's shoulders relaxed at the news and a bitter smile curled his lip up. "My strike was true."
"Sit," Alto bade his friend. He turned back to Tristam. "So what of him?"
"I don't rightly know," the retired mercenary admitted. "The knights went after him to bring justice for the atrocities of war he committed against the elves, but it has been long since I've had a fresh report. Far as I know, they still search for him."
"What atrocities?" Karthor asked.
"They're ogres," he said before taking another drink. He put his cup down and added, "I imagine the usual raping, pillaging, and unending butchery."
"Why would this queen think she could make a nation of such creatures?" Patrina asked.
"And why would the chosen of Leander support her?" Karthor added.
Tristam held his hands up and said, "I had doubts much the same. Sir Celos shared my feelings, but he hid them well from others. Aleena's passion won him over and, I admit, me as well. To visit Dragonfall and see what ogres, goblins, and men working together have accomplished is unbelievable."
"I remember what they accomplished here not so long ago," Alto said.
The baron nodded. "As do I! But this is different. This involved them working together and creating things. Dragonfall is what they named their city. It's far from built but much work has gone into it."
"What of Queen Rosalyn?" Alto asked.
"What do you mean? She's a woman. A girl, really, or at least she looks young enough to be my granddaughter."
"I didn't know you had children?" Patrina asked.
Tristam opened his mouth but Kar spoke up first. "None who are proud enough of their bastard heritage to come hunting for him."
The baron sighed and shook his head. "Anyhow," he said, ignoring the wizard's jab, "she's a witch, so it might be that she looks younger than she is. When I met her, she claimed to come from the south, from humble beginnings."
Alto felt a chill work its way down his spine. "How far south?"
"Not far. Claimed her parents were farmers. Mayhaps you two have something in common?"
Alto frowned and risked a quick glance at Patrina. Her grim expression matched his, but he was certain she had different reasons. He relaxed in spite of Tristam's teasing. "I doubt it," Alto said.
"She went on and on about equality among races and men and women. She wants to show the world that we can live side by side and work together. She had me believing it, too, until I heard what her ogres were doing to the elves."
"She declared war on them. That doesn't seem very forgiving and equalizing," Namitus opined.
"To be fair, her people were attacked first, as I heard it," Tristam said. "Rather than defending her border and negotiating a truce, she went all out on them. Graak destroyed every city he could find and butchered every elf they've come across."
Silence fell across the table until only the sound of Kar and Mordrim eating remained. Alto studied his cup while his eyes danced back and forth. He glanced up at Tristam again. "Is the statue still there?"
"Yes," Tristam said. "Or at least it was months ago when I was there. I had no desire to stand by it much. I always felt like someone was watching me. I was ashamed to admit it until you showed up with your news."
"Why?"
"Why? Because hearing the baron thinks something old, powerful, and downright evil is keeping an eye on him is not the sort of thing that makes the people of Highpeak feel safe and secure!"
"What of Rosalyn—did she seem, um, possessed?"
"She was skin and bones under her dress," Tristam said. He grinned and added, "At least what I could see."
Patrina rolled her eyes while Garrick, Carson, and Namitus chuckled.
"She wasn't breathing fire or doing anything I'd expect a dragon to do, though," Tristam finished.
Alto sighed and slumped back in his chair. Kar tossed a bone on his plate and let loose a belch barely muffled by his hand. "Now then, I had a chat with an old friend not so long ago. I wanted to believe otherwise, but we came to admit that very thing was possible."
All eyes turned to the wizard but he turned his attention to his cup and took a long pull from it. He set it down and saw everyone starting at him. "What?"
"What conclusion?"
"Oh, now you want the details?" He feigned innocence. "Fine. Our thoughts were that in a matter of time, perhaps less than a year but most likely longer, Sarya would break free."
Alto's hand hit the table, startling most of those seated around it. "You knew she was trapped in there?"
"As did you, boy! We'd talked about it, back when it happened."
Alto clenched his fists and his teeth. He forced his breath out after a moment and nodded. "I thought she'd been destroyed or at least trapped away forever. She seemed locked
away. Not something we'd have to worry about again."
Kar shrugged. "We'd all hoped as much, I think, but that's not the way of it. If she's still trapped in that statue, she could break free any day or maybe be trapped another hundred years."
"How do we know?" Alto wondered.
The wizard shook his head. "There's no way to know. Even having a time of magicians keeping an eye on it is no guarantee. Better we deal with her once and for all."
"Do you know how to do that?" Alto asked.
"I've been putting much thought to it," Kar admitted. "The best I've got is letting her out and then killing whatever form she inherits, then destroying the body and spirit once and for all."
"You've a plan?" Tristam asked the wizard.
"Well, it's sort of tricky," Kar admitted.
Alto closed his eyes for a moment and braced himself for another quest that required sacrifice, hardship, and impossible odds. Kar opened his mouth and didn't disappoint him.
Chapter 23
Jethallin glanced over at where Jennaca struggled to crawl on top of the furry animal beside her. She shook her head, no longer worried about the animal's reaction, and went back to striking her old dagger against the firestone to send sparks into the tinder she'd gathered. A large spark caught on some of the frayed scraps of fabric she'd torn from her shirt and, with a few puffs of breath, it burst into flame.
Jethallin moved sticks onto the flame and tended it carefully until it grew large enough she risked turning away to gather the large broken branches she'd found. In moments, she had a promising fire started. She leaned back just as Whiskers walked closer and lay down next to the flames to warm his fur.
Jethallin rolled her eyes at the lazy rat and turned to where Jennaca was riding Brokenpaw, the swamp cat that she'd encountered after defeating Snake-Killer. She hadn't realized it until she'd rushed the cat and she watched him jump back and roll onto his side. His front left foot had a bloody gash across the pads.
She'd moved closer to him, unafraid in spite of what her common sense told her, and touched the cat's injury. She felt the bone shift and knew that whatever it was that had gotten him had broken his foot, earning him his new name. She cleaned the wound and did her best to wrap the injured paw.
Brokenpaw had fallen in with them as though it was the natural order of things. Jethallin had accepted it after a half day of watching the cat trying to walk with as little pressure on his sore foot as possible. She tended to it each day as they made their way north along the base of the mountains and watched as it healed well enough for him to walk without a limp.
Now, a few weeks later, they'd come far enough that Jethallin was well and truly lost. Only the mountains on her left and the stars in the sky—when she could see them at night—remained to guide her.
They hadn't seen any sign of humans since her time in the swamp, though once almost two weeks past, she'd spied the smoke from fires in the distance to the east. She tossed some of the pine cones she'd picked up into the growing flames and moved over to where she'd left the branches she'd broken off another dead pine tree.
"Paw, Whiskers, this fire's not going to feed us by itself," Jethallin said.
Brokenpaw twisted to look up at the infant who was sitting on top of him. Jennaca squealed as he moved and she lost her balance, and then rolled off the large cat and ended up lying on her back beside him. He sniffed her and then licked her naked foot, earning a giggle. The swamp cat climbed to his feet and stood as tall as Jethallin's hip. He stretched and padded off into the forest.
Whiskers watched him go and then turned to look at Jethallin. "You too," she said and made a shushing motion with her hand. He left the fire behind and waddled off in the opposite direction of the large cat.
Jethallin broke one of the branches over her knee and fed it into the fire, and then stacked a few more close by before going and picking up her daughter. Jennaca grinned at her and tugged on her hair. Jethallin laughed and kissed her, and then grimaced. "You stink, little princess. Time for a change. Some water for a bath would be nice, too. Maybe tomorrow?"
Jethallin smiled at her daughter and laid her on the ground while she dug out fresh smallclothes from her pack. A few minutes later, Jennaca was as clean as she could be in the forest. Jethallin tended the fire to make it grow and leaned back against a rock to look out over the hillside they camped along.
"Enjoy it, Jennaca," Jethallin said. "Life is good right now. We have some strange friends to help us and nobody trying to steal from us or hurt us. We're really free and we have everything we need. Being out here makes me wonder, do we really need to find Alto? I can keep us safe and with Paw and Whiskers, we can probably get by."
Jethallin's belly rumbled, distracting her. She glanced down and laughed. "Well, some food might be nice."
"Ey der!"
Jethallin shrieked and leapt to her feet. Her sword and dagger were in hand before she'd finished spinning. She stared up at the massive man-shaped and green-skinned figure that leaned over the rock she'd been sitting against.
"Ey der!" the troll said again. "Put dat fruity knife away before yous cuts yous's sef."
"Thork!" Jethallin squeaked.
Jennaca let loose a squeal and giggled while she reached up for the troll.
Bonky, Thork's ever present goblin companion, walked around the rock and stopped when he stared down at Jennaca lying a few feet from him. Jennaca turned to the goblin and stared wide-eyed at his black and white streaked skin and hair.
Thork laughed. "Bonky's trying da Alpine disguise potion Thork iz making."
Jethallin clamped her mouth shut and swallowed. "Alpine disguise?" she repeated.
The troll nodded and looked down at her fire. "Ooh, fire. Dat's good finking!"
Jethallin turned and looked at her campfire. "What? Fire?"
The troll shaman turned away and said over his shoulder, "Dinner!" He emerged from the side of the rock but wasn't paying attention to where he was walking. Instead, he was digging through a large sack that he held in one hand. He stopped a few feet away from the fire and cried out. Thork pulled his arm out and the sack bulged as the opening stretched to accommodate whatever was in it. A moment later, he succeeded in pulling out a pig nearly the size of Brokenpaw.
Jethallin's eyes widened and she took a step back from the way the troll easily swung the heavy animal around with one hand. The sack it came out of shrunk back down to a manageable size that he tucked into his belt. She shook her head, unable to comprehend the troll's magic.
"Rats!" Jethallin gasped.
"Where?" Thork spun, the boar flying out as he did so. He turned back and frowned. "Der's no rats here!"
"No, um, well, there's Whiskers," Jethallin said. She shook her head and took a deep breath. "Oh my saints," she whispered to herself.
"Saint Jarook," Thork said with a wink. "Dat's what yous's feeling right now."
Jethallin nodded. She felt like the saint of fear might be standing right behind her. "I meant, where are your rats?"
Thork laughed loudly, his belly and the boar shaking. "Dem rats? Dem's went back to da swamp. What's Whiskers?"
"Didn't you send him?" she asked.
Thork frowned. He started ticking off his fingers on one hand as he counted, "One and one and one and one and…well, der's lots, but der's no Whiskers."
Jethallin grimaced. Of course not, she'd named the rat Whiskers! "I'm sorry, I'm not thinking straight. You startled me."
Thork grinned, showing off his large and pointed teeth.
Jethallin swallowed. "You're a troll; of course I'm startled. Whiskers is a rat. A giant one, like the ones that were with you. He found me tied up in the desert and helped me escape. He's been with us ever since."
Thork sucked on one of his tusk-like teeth and then shrugged. "Okies."
"Okay? That's it?" Jethallin blurted. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Thork grinned. "Thork didn't send da rat. Thork's mojo only kept da rats wif Thork."
"So
if you didn't send him, why did he come?"
The troll shrugged.
"You don't know?" She raised her arms as she asked the question and realized she still held her blades. She sheathed them and said, "They told me you were this powerful shaman that knew all kinds of secrets. They acted like you could do anything! First I get a giant rat following me around, then a group of wild dogs, and now a swamp cat. Oh, and then there was the gator that I scared away in the swamp. You had to do something! Did you put a spell on me or something?"
Thork's head was tilted at an angle by the time her tirade ended. The troll scratched his belly with his free hand and then stuck his hand out to the side. His meaty hand was open, fingers spread wide, and then the troll's spear appeared out of thin air. He grabbed it and pulled it around so that the green glowing blade pointed at Jethallin.
Her eyes widened and her jaw fell as she was overwhelmed with a vision of Snake-Killer fighting her with his spear. She reached for her swords but by the time her hands wrapped around the hilts, a dark blur leapt in front of her and crouched on the ground hissing and growling in a deep voice.
Thork straightened and raised his spear back up. He planted the butt in the ground and it disappeared as easily as it had arrived. Jethallin stared at him and then looked down at Brokenpaw in front of her.
"Dis da swamp cat?" Thork asked.
"Brokenpaw," she said.
Thork looked at the cat and then shrugged. "Him's paws don't look bashed to Thork."
"No, he's better now," she said.
The troll grunted. "Okies, get a stick. Dis piggy needs to cook a while."
Jethallin blinked a few times and then looked at the wild boar the troll still held. She opened her mouth and then closed it and shook her head. A stick. The troll wanted a stick. She turned away and then remembered Jennaca. She spun back around to see Bonky reaching out with his boot and gently nudging Jennaca's feet. She giggled and reached for him, only to have the goblin pull his foot away.
"Saints protect me," she muttered as she went to look for sticks to use as a spit.
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