“I want privacy for this, good Master,” Vanx politely stern-talked his elder. Ruuk just nodded in silent agreement and slid into the booth, opposite where Vanx had been sitting. Gallarael slid in beside the older Zythian, allowing Vanx all the room of the other bench seat.
This time, when Vanx opened the lid to the looking glass case, the web was complete. He made an audible gasp when he picked it up by the handle. Magic went tingling through his hand and up his arm, before spreading through his whole person, like a fever chill.
Somewhere above deck, Poops let out a howl of pleasure as the dog felt the same sensation through he and Vanx’s familial link.
The webbing was fragile and bowed with its resistance to the air. When the strands were stretched, they crackled a sizzling electric blue color, like winter lightning or a lampfish’s bright glowers.
Vanx was compelled to turn the pages of the Tome of Arbor with his free hand. He let the magic direct him with as little resistance as he could manage.
With frantic, unnatural speed, he thumbed through a quarter of the book, only to stop and start going back slowly. Then he was there.
On the page was a map. It showed part of Zyth and Dragon Isle. It even had Parydon Isle, and the Sea Spire, but the spire looked like a crumbled hill, not a sharp black needle. It was marked with—
“Look through the lens, fool.” Master Ruuk shook his head.
Vanx did so, and he saw the last thing he wanted to see.
In the mountains, deep into the continent the Parydonians had laid claim to, there was a strange tree sprouting and growing on the page, as if it were formed of some magic flow of spilled blue ink.
Vanx pointed to the place, knowing that the shapes of the land masses had been clear even before he’d looked through the lens.
“That’s the farkin’ crags,” Gallarael cursed, which only happened when something was truly worth cursing over. “Far beyond the boundaries of my brother’s kingdom. The giants hold reign there, and the ogres are as thick as flies.”
“Great,” Master Rukk said. “The Zythians up on deck are nearly petrified with fear, as it is.”
“Shhh,” Vanx shushed them as he looked deeper into the gossamer lens. He understood that at best, with all their combined magic, they might take three to four days to get the ship to Dyntalla, and from there the location was easily a five or six day trek, unless they left the Zythians behind.
If Moonsy rode Sir Poopsalot, he and Chelda could keep up with them, well enough, and trim a day and a half. Gallarael could easily stay ahead and scout the way.
If they landed on the little beach Vanx knew was between the sea and the Wildwood, they could save another half day.
In the lens, he saw the details of the area the Goss intended him to see. There was a pond formed by a wide flowing stream. It sat in the bottom of a deep valley. A valley that sat too far into the treacherous mountains for his comfort, but there it was, surrounded by strange white bloomed trees with what looked like upward pointing pinecones, only made of thin petals, not hard fibers.
Vanx tried to turn the page of the book to find the type of tree he’d seen growing blue, but the web burned away. The acrid smell that filled his cabin forced him to open the hatch and let fresh air in just to stop coughing.
After a moment, when the air had cleared, Vanx put the looking glass back in its case and closed it. He put the case, and the Tome of Arbor, in his satchel and urged Gallarael out of the cabin, toward the galley.
“Tell the Zythians they can come down now.” Vanx grinned through his concern. “After you drop us on the coast, Ronzon and the Adventurer will take you all to Flotsam.”
“What if I want to go with you?”
“I won’t stop you, but you’ll have to keep up.” Vanx shrugged. “The moon will turn far too soon, and the world will come apart before we can even make it to the location the Goss showed me, as it is. There will be no dallying.”
Chapter
Two
After discussing it all over that night’s supper, it turned out that Master Rukk wasn’t the only Zythian who wanted to go with them. Another, who was a little older than Vanx, and had some experience, did too. Vanx was glad it was Master Practon. He’d gone onto the spider infested island with them, and Vanx knew he wouldn’t panic, if things got tricky.
Gallarael was against Vanx’s idea of landing in the Wildwood instead of Dyntalla. Vanx couldn’t blame her. She’d entered that place a fairly innocent princess and ended up whatever she was now, a changeling, a shapeshifter, whatever. But in the end, she was agreeable to the plan, if that is what you could call it.
Gallarael had a valid argument, saying they could get horses and mountaineering supplies in Dyntalla, just on her name. But Vanx reminded her the truth of it. They would be hassled and questioned and slowed, just by having to explain themselves. She was the King’s sister, and her presence there, or anywhere in the human kingdom, for that matter, would cause an uproar.
If they were hassled in the Wildwood, they could just use Moonsy and Ruuk’s protective spells, or diplomacy, and keep going. The kobles, and the lesser ogres they might come across, would want no part of this group, Vanx figured. And if they were challenged, Chelda could smash their skulls flat with her war hammer.
The river that fed all of that vegetation would be flowing slow, for autumn was upon them. The wash-out along the river bed would make a perfect trail for them to follow inland. They didn’t have time to worry about cold weather gear, for the world would come apart if they failed. The climbing equipment Gallarael spoke of could be rigged out of rope, hinge pins, and the smaller block and tackle they had on the ship. It would be crude, but it would keep them together if they needed it to.
Vanx thought he had everything covered.
“I suggest that Chelda be in charge of rigging the personal lanyards.” Vanx gave Gallarael a funny look. Chelda was on deck, probably telling Ronzon and the younger Zythians some wild tale. “She has the most climbing experience.”
“I can out climb all of you,” Gallarael fired back.
“But we can’t grow claws,” Vanx squeezed her shoulder and fought back the revulsion thoughts of her changing caused to roil through his gut. “I meant Chelda knows best how to make use of what we have, for those of us who can’t scale cliff faces and folded stairs. She grew up climbing mountains.”
“What about Poops?” Gallarael asked then.
Vanx pondered it a minute, even though he knew the dog would go. He didn’t like going anywhere without his familiar, but the mountains would be a challenge for the pooch.
“I think Moonsy will ride and protect him fiercely.” Vanx finally said. “Just like Thorn did.”
“Yup,” Gallarael said the single word mocking Vanx’s use of it. This caused them both to laugh, but Vanx noticed Master Ruuk wasn’t even smiling.
Vanx grew serious. “Did you know him well?” Vanx asked cautiously. “The Zythian who was—well—who was taken by the lake wyrm?”
“Nah, nah.” Ruuk waved a hand to show he wasn’t dwelling on that. “He was a good person, but I hardly knew him. I was just wondering about the giants.” Ruuk unrolled one of the maps Vanx often used because it showed all of the ports in the area.
They were still in the Galley, it being their turn to clean up after the evening meal. Moonsy alertly wiped the central table clean so the old Zythian could use it as a map table. “This far into the mountains,” he pointed to roughly where Vanx had indicated they needed to go. His finger was at the farthest edge of their map. Their destination, Vanx knew, wasn’t even on the parchment, “there are savage tribes of barbaric giants, and they are constantly warring over territory.” He studied the map a little closer. “Could you call Master Practon down before you retire? I may have a way to save us some more time, but I would confer with him first.”
“I’ll tell him,” Gallarael said, brushing by Vanx, intentionally rubbing his crotch with her firm arse. “After I tell Chelda what you want her to do, Master Vanx.�
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Why she continually had to arouse him was a concern. The constant shifting from repulsion to attraction was making his head swim and starting to take its toll on his patience. This was no time for him to be distracted but, then again, they couldn’t really do anything besides lay around until they made shore.
With that thought, Vanx went down into the bulkhead to look for something to use to make a lifting harness for Poops, in case they had to haul him up a mountainside or something. He thought there was a set of leather straps on a pallet that had been brought over from the Ada Rosamond, and he was right. There were some good steel rings, and lacing, too. Then he saw the lamp and used a spell to light it and give him a little more light. That was when he saw what the stuff was really there for.
Chelda was making a pair of saddles for the horses she’d left back on Dragon Isle. Vanx was surprised, but not shocked. He knew she was creative, for she’d carved out the detail and painted the Adventurer’s Mystica masthead. The ship was very proud of it, too. She was making two saddles, it turned out. He only hoped she would understand the need here.
Chapter
Three
“If we are all going to die, if we don’t get this done, I’ll use any of it,” Chelda said. She’d come down and was crawling toward Vanx on her hands and knees. Vanx saw that, due to her gargan size, she’d had to crawl amongst the barrels and sit cross-legged to do her crafting. “I’ve formed mine and Moonsy’s cantle and pommels already. The rest is just fitting it all together. We can use it, but how’d you know?”
“I didn’t,” Vanx was stooped over and now understood what Chelda had to go through when moving about in the normal sized interior of the ship. “I just remembered loading some leather strapping and came to see if I was right.”
“Don’t tell Moonsy,” Chelda’s tone grew firm. “Her saddle is a surprise.”
“Rig it to fit Poops, not a horse, Chelda.” He grinned at their fortune. “She’ll need to ride Poops to keep up with us once we get going.” As he turned, he bumped his head on a beam, and heard whoever was above him shuffle their feet, startled.
“Yah. I can do that.” Chelda laughed at his folly. “That, and make some good lanyards. If you see Moonsy, send her down. There is no sense in holding the surprise back now, and she can get around down here way better than I can.”
“I will.” Vanx excused himself, not sure why he felt embarrassed over finding Chelda’s private place. His private place was atop the mast pole, not in the crow’s nest, but actually atop the pole, with his legs wrapped in the rigging to hold him in place when the ship swayed back and forth.
There, he could sink into Poops sensory perception and take in the world as no one else could. It was the closest thing to riding a dragon’s back he could manage, and he relished it, even though it didn’t quite compare.
After sending Moonsy down to help Chelda, and telling Gallarael what supplies to put in he and Chelda’s backpacks, he climbed the thick, tar saturated mast and got situated.
He thought about how it would be hacking a way through the Wildwood, opposite the protected trade route that had been established. They could cause a war if they were thought to be Parydonians.
Vanx wasn’t worried about that too much, though. Gallarael was the only human among them, and she would probably be in one of her shifted forms most of the time. Mistaking them for poachers or lost travelers was not going to happen. They had a seven and a half foot tall gargan woman with them and an elf who would be riding his dog familiar. Anything with any sense would flee.
Two days passed, and the dragon they’d left behind kept stealing Vanx’s thoughts. The light sea colored wyrm was just the right size to carry him. He’d climbed up high to get away from everyone for a while. It was late evening, and the cool autumn sky was filled with stars. He felt the mast pole shiver when one of the Zythians directed a wind spell at the sails. They been doing this in rotation since they’d learned the route they were taking.
The Zythians, who were not going, were pleased to learn they would have passage back to Zyth. Their enthusiasm showed in their spell casting, for the Adventurer was gliding across the waves at a sharp rushing clip.
In fact, with Poops’s keen nostrils, Vanx could already smell fire smoke coming from the land. They would see the shore before the sun came up, he was sure.
Vanx made his way down to the deck. He lit and hung a lantern and used a shovel to scoop Poops shit out of the rectangular turf box he’d built for the dog. Then he used a sprinkler can to water the grass.
Master Practon had shown him a spell that would help keep the grass nutrified, but he had to find the time to dig up some ground worms to make it all self-sustaining with the arcanery.
He heard Ronzon swear and went up to the open wheel house to see what was amiss. He saw the orange flicker before he even had the long tube Ronzon handed him in his grasp. When he found it in the glass, he was stupefied.
“No way.” He shook his head in wonder.
“Are them ogres?” Ronzon asked, the fear in his voice as clear as his words.
“Yes they are, my friend.” Vanx laughed and gave the man a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder. “They are compelled to follow the blood stone, but it is in Pyra’s hoa—” Vanx stopped himself. “It is somewhere else.”
Ronzon was a mere human, and no matter how hard he tried, if he knew there was a dragon’s hoard on the island they’d left Zeezle on, the man would be tempted by greed. For his own good, Vanx left that part out.
Ronzon gulped audibly.
Vanx watched through the long glass, as one of the score of enraged ogres left the bonfire and charged into the sea. It waded until it had to swim. Then, when it was just beyond the roll of the surf, something snatched it from below.
“How are we going to land there?” Ronzon asked. “I counted three dozen of them.”
“Three dozen?” Vanx looked at him and smiled. “I’ll wager my ten coins to your one Chelda Flar can clear that fire by herself.”
“Ten to one?” Ronzon’s fear was suddenly gone. “I think I’ll have to put three pieces of gold on that one, sir.” The seaman showed his three coins, but kept his head down. “Though, I’d hate to see Lady Chelda fall, just to make my fortune.”
“You just lost three pieces of gold, Ronzy.” Chelda stepped up between them. She was holding one of the other tubes. Vanx came up to her chin, but Ronzon’s head was right at breast level.
“Well, hell,” the seaman said. “Can I get off the bet for one, Captain?”
“You can,” Chelda answered for Vanx. “And if you ask me, too, I’ll go kill them all, Vanx, but I have a better idea, and one coin in the hand is better than three in the wind.”
“Can’t argue that one,” Vanx winked as he took Ronzon’s coin, and put a bite on it to make sure it was soft. “Debt paid,” he said when he found it was. Then he turned to Chelda.
“Now tell me about this plan.”
The End
(of book ten’s sample)
Other titles by M. R. Mathias
The Legend of Vanx Malic
Book One – Through the Wildwood
Book Two – Dragon Isle
Book Three – Saint Elm’s Deep
Book Four – That Frigid Fargin’ Witch
Book Five – Trigon Daze
Book Six – Paragon Dracus
Book Seven – The Far Side of Creation
Book Eight – The Long Journey Home
Book Nine – The Tome of Arbor
Book ten – A Gossamer Lens
The Saga of the Dragoneers
The First Dragoneer – Free for Kindle
The Royal Dragoneers – Nominated, Locus Poll 2011
Cold Hearted Son of a Witch
The Confliction
The Emerald Rider
Rise of the Dragon King
Blood and Royalty – Winner. 2015 Readers Favorite Award,
and 2015 Kindle Book Award Semifinalist
The War
dstone Trilogy
Book One - The Sword and the Dragon
Book Two - Kings, Queens, Heroes, & Fools
Book Three - The Wizard & the Warlord
Short Stories:
Crimzon & Clover I - Orphaned Dragon, Lucky Girl
Crimzon & Clover II - The Tricky Wizard
Crimzon & Clover III - The Grog
Crimzon & Clover IV - The Wrath of Crimzon
Crimzon & Clover V - Killer of Giants
Crimzon & Clover VI – One Bad Bitch
Crimzon &Clover VII – The Fortune’s Fortune
Master Zarvin’s Action and Adventure Series #1 Dingo the Dragon Slayer
Master Zarvin’s Action and Adventure Series #2 Oonzil the oathbreaker
Master Zarvin’s Action and Adventure Series #3 The Greatest Quest
To hear about new releases,
sales and giveaways,
follow M. R. Mathias @DahgMahn on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram, or visit www.mrmathias.com
The Tome of Arbor (The Legend of Vanx Malic Book 9) Page 13
