“And if you don’t catch up?” Alex asked.
“Then I will depend on you to take care of our problem,” Whalen answered, not commenting on what his not turning up would mean.
The thing that stood out most in Alex’s mind was the fact that Whalen had asked for his help. Alex tried to remember all the stories he’d heard or read about Whalen, and one thing was clear in all of those stories. Whalen had gone into dangerous places, he had fought great evils, and he had always done those things alone. Never, in any of the stories Alex could think of, had Whalen Vankin ever asked for help. Things were different now, it seemed, and Alex didn’t know what that might mean.
Eventually Alex returned his map and axe to his magic bag. He stood up and prepared himself to work the magic that would open a gateway into the land of Jarro. Pausing for a moment, he looked at his magic bag. A lot of people knew what magic bags looked like, and carrying a magic bag would mark him as something more than an apprentice merchant. He’d been foolish not to think of it before, but at least the answer was obvious. Working some simple magic, Alex disguised his magic bag, making it look like a common rucksack. With that final detail taken care of, he moved to the center of the room and started to work the gateway magic.
Alex recalled the instructions Whalen gave him before they parted ways. “You need to focus your thoughts on the place you want to go. It will be difficult the first time, as the gateway may not appear exactly where you think it should. I don’t mean just where you are going, but also where you are. You’ll need some space when working the magic, at least at first, just in case the entrance of the gateway appears further away from you than you want it to.”
Mr. Clutter had provided the space, and now Alex focused on the memory that Whalen had magically given to him. He could see a massive white stone to his left, trees in the distance, and open land all around him. The open land was covered with small white stones. The stones didn’t make a road or a path—but there was a pattern. Alex wasn’t sure what larger pattern they made, but he could see them clearly.
What are those stones? Alex thought as the magical gateway opened a few feet in front of him.
Without hesitating, Alex stepped through the gateway and into the land of Jarro.
Alex arrived in complete darkness. He instantly realized the mistake he’d made, and he felt foolish for not thinking things through. It was nighttime here in Jarro, as he knew it would be. The problem was that his eyes were used to the lamplight in Mr. Clutter’s basement room, and there was no light here at all. He looked up at the sky as he turned to break the spell that held his gateway open. The moon was hidden behind clouds, but it looked like the clouds were breaking up and moving away.
Closing his magical gateway, Alex closed his eyes as well, hoping to improve his night vision as quickly as possible. Taking several deep breaths, he waited. He could smell rain, wet grass, and mud. He opened his eyes and looked around, searching for the massive white stone landmark from Whalen’s memory. It was visible a few yards to his left, and he knew that his gateway had opened exactly where he’d wanted it to.
Orienting himself by checking the cloud-hidden moon once more, Alex started to walk toward the main road. He’d only taken a few steps, however, when his left shin slammed into something that was both hard and solid. He tried to keep his balance as he also tried to rub away the pain in his shin, but he couldn’t manage it. He hit the wet ground hard, and continued to rub his aching shin. When he finally sat up, Alex tried to see what he’d walked into. The moonlight broke free of the clouds to help him, and he wasn’t happy about what he found.
“A gravestone?” Alex said in a lowered voice.
Looking around in the moonlight, Alex realized where he was. He almost started to laugh, but he stopped himself and just shook his head instead. Now he understood what all the white stones in Whalen’s memory were, and why they made a pattern.
Honestly, Whalen. You could have told me I’d be walking into a graveyard, Alex thought.
Getting back to his feet, Alex checked the placement of gravestones. Most of them were at just the right height to slam into his shins if he wasn’t paying attention, and he didn’t want to repeat that experience. He checked his direction once more, and then started forward at a slower, more cautious speed. He had two or three miles to travel before reaching the main road, and he wanted to get there before the sun came up if he could.
As Alex made his way through the graveyard, he had to wonder why Whalen would choose this place for him to enter Jarro. It made sense when he thought about it. Most people didn’t like graveyards, and very few would ever enter a graveyard after dark. Alex wasn’t worried about running into anything dangerous or evil. Graveyards weren’t normally the scary places most people thought they were, not even after dark. He didn’t think he would run into anything at all, except maybe some wild animals. It was at that moment, however, that he heard a noise he recognized.
Someone was digging, and not too far away from where Alex was standing. The shovel made more noise than normal as it cut through the wet, gravely ground. There was only one reason for someone to be digging in a graveyard at night, and Alex knew what that reason was and it didn’t make him happy.
Grave robbers , Alex thought.
The idea of people robbing graves troubled him, but it wasn’t any of his business. He was here to help Whalen and to stop Jabez, but still . . . in all the lands Alex had visited, robbing graves was a serious crime. Walking away and letting whoever was digging in this graveyard went against his sense of honor as an adventurer. He had to stop this crime, even if stopping it was far more dangerous for him simply because he wasn’t supposed to use magic.
Alex moved toward the sound of the shoveling. He crouched down, hoping to use the small gravestones to hide his approach. The noise grew louder, and it was soon clear that two shovels were being used. It made sense that two or maybe three people would be doing the work. Graves were deep, and digging them up would take a fair amount of time and effort.
The gravestones Alex passed were getting larger, and he guessed that he was moving toward the center of the cemetery. Soon the gravestones were as large as life-size statues, and he didn’t need to crouch any more. A glint of light caught his eye, and as silently as he could he moved toward it.
“Why we digging up this grave?” a voice said in the darkness.
“’Cause, Cobb, this is the grave we’re being paid to dig up,” a second voice answered.
“Least it stopped raining,” said a third.
“Shut up, Dixon, that’s not what I mean,” Cobb said. “What I want to know is, why this grave? There’s hundreds of graves here, so why’s this one so special?”
“I told you, the gent what’s paying us wants the bones out of this grave,” the second voice answered.
“How’s he gonna know what grave we get the bones out of?” Dixon asked. “We could dig up any old grave and get bones. I told you, Flynn, something closer to the main road woulda been easier.”
“Better than being way out here in the middle of this cemetery, that’s for sure,” Cobb agreed.
“What, afraid of ghosts and such?” Flynn asked. “After all the years we been doing this, you started getting spooked, have ya?”
Alex was about to jump out from behind a gravestone. His plan was to yell and shriek, like some kind of monster, hoping to frighten the grave robbers away. Then Flynn said something that stopped him.
“The gent what’s paying for this job will know if we got the right bones. He’s got more than a bit of magic in him, or I’m an honest man.”
“Magic,” Dixon said. “Don’t like working for them magic folk.”
“You just keep diggin’,” Flynn answered. “He’s paying enough for this job, and more.”
“Paying enough maybe,” Cobb said. “But if there’s magic involved you can bet there’s something dangerous in this here grave. I say we fill it in and get going.”
“Keep diggin’!” Flynn
demanded. “Ain’t nothin’ down there but bones. This here grave is more than two hundred years old. Even if it is a wizard’s grave, his magic ain’t still hanging about after two hundred years.”
A two-hundred-year-old wizard’s grave? A magical person who wanted the wizard’s bones? Alex didn’t like what he was hearing, and it was clear to him that this was more than just a normal grave robbery. Whalen had told him not to use magic, but Whalen couldn’t have guessed that something like this would happen. Alex knew that wizard’s bones were only used for the darkest of magic. Only some great evil like Jabez or the Brotherhood would be looking for wizard bones.
Taking a chance, Alex peeked around the gravestones to see the grave robbers. One was standing at the foot of the grave, holding a lantern so the other two could see what they were doing. Only the heads of the other two were visible, and it was clear they’d been digging for some time. They all looked lean, underfed, and dirty. Alex considered what to do to them. Changing them into bats or rats might be a fitting punishment for their crimes, but a loud thunk broke Alex’s train of thought.
“That’s the casket,” Cobb said from the grave.
“Pry it open and let’s get busy,” Flynn said, angling the lantern to get a better look.
The sound of wood breaking and nails being pulled filled the air. These grave robbers didn’t hesitate now that they were so close to their prize. Alex made up his mind in an instant. Lifting his left hand, he worked some magic, and a cold wind came howling through the graveyard.
“What’s that then?” Dixon asked, also from the grave.
“Just the wind,” Flynn answered as he looked around nervously. “Here, take the bag. Let’s get what we’re after and then get out of here.”
“What, we’re not gonna fill the grave in again?” Cobb asked.
Alex worked a little more magic and a fog started to rise from the earth. In the distance the sound of a screech owl echoed in the darkness.
“You want to hang around filling in an empty grave, that’s your business,” Dixon said. “I say we get what we came for and quick step it out of here.”
“What’s this?” Cobb said, lifting something toward the light. “Looks like a book of some kind.”
“Here, give me that,” Flynn said. “Maybe our employer will pay something extra for it.”
Alex worked more magic, and a more powerful and colder wind came screaming through the gravestones. The fog lifted and spun wildly around the graveyard, filled with tiny sparks of green and yellow light. The sparks weren’t really noticeable, but they added light to the graveyard, a pale ghostly light. Slowly, figures began to appear in the mist, figures of armored men holding weapons. The warriors Alex created were moving slowly and silently, marching toward the grave that had just been unearthed.
At first, Flynn didn’t notice anything. He lifted his lantern and glanced around once, as if he’d heard something, and then turned his attention back to the grave. Alex thought for only a second, and then added weight to his soldiers. The footsteps weren’t very loud, at least not at first, but Flynn looked up suddenly, swinging the lantern in a wide circle as he tried to see what was moving in the darkness. A loud creaking sound came from the grave, and Flynn jumped.
“This old coffin is solid,” Cobb said. “I’ve seen coffins in the ground less than a week that aren’t as solid as this.”
“Quality bit of work when it was put here,” Dixon said.
Flynn didn’t say anything; he was too busy looking around the graveyard. Alex’s soldiers were close, close enough for the grave robber to see them moving. His mouth fell open, but no sound came out of it. It looked as if he had been turned to stone as the blood drained from his face. His mouth moved up and down a few times, but still no sound came out. Finally, he let out a terrified, high-pitched scream, dropped the lantern and the book he was holding, and ran wildly into the darkness.
Cobb and Dixon looked up when Flynn screamed. They looked around, unsure of what they were looking for or what to do, and then they saw the ghostly warriors. Cobb looked like he was about to faint. He clutched at Dixon’s jacket, his eyes bulging out of his face. Dixon desperately tried to pull Cobb’s hands away from his jacket, finally breaking free by ripping his jacket in half, scrambling out of the grave, and running away as fast as he could. Cobb, realizing that he was alone, opened his mouth in a silent scream and after some frantic attempts to exit the grave, ran headlong after his companions.
Alex waited for a moment, and then broke the spell that created the ghostly warriors. He walked to the grave and looked down into it. The empty sack of the grave robbers was lying across the chest of the skeleton like a blanket. He felt sorry for this long dead man, wizard or not, and he realized that there was a bigger problem that he hadn’t seen until now.
Scaring away the grave robbers had saved the bones for the time being, but some magical person wanted these bones. They would find other grave robbers willing to come and dig this grave up again. Even if this first set of thieves told the story of what they’d seen, not everyone would believe it, or be afraid.
Alex magically resealed the coffin as he thought about what to do. He looked at the gravestone, hoping to find a name to go with the bones. Whalen might know something about this person, if they were a wizard, but the stone was unmarked. Keeping these bones safe wasn’t his job—he didn’t even know if they truly were the bones of a wizard. He had already broken Whalen’s instructions about using magic, however, so he thought that a little more magic couldn’t hurt. He focused his mind on what he wanted to do, combined his wizard and his dragon magic, and slowly pushed the dirt from the grave back onto the coffin.
It took a long time to fill the grave with dirt, which was part of Alex’s magic. The coffin would remain in the grave, but the grave was now much deeper than it had been. Alex’s magic would allow the coffin to go deeper and deeper into the earth if someone tried to dig it up. Grave robbers could dig as deep as the lid of the coffin, but if they tried to touch the coffin it would sink under them. They could dig and dig, and no matter how deep they went, the coffin would always remain just out of reach.
Well, that’s safe, and no real harm done , Alex thought, and then his eyes fell on the book.
He hadn’t thought about the book while working his magic, and he didn’t think it was really worth worrying about. An old dried-out book that was buried with this person could be anything. He stepped around the grave and picked it up. He brushed the dirt off the cover, and turned it toward the moonlight. The lantern the grave robbers had used had broken and gone out when it was dropped, so it was no help. The cover of the book was blank, as was the spine, telling him nothing. Alex carefully lifted the front cover, hoping to discover what this book might be, and was stunned by what happened.
The front cover of the book tore away from the rest of the book as he lifted it. The corner that he held in his fingers turned to dust, and the rest of the cover fell to the ground and shattered like glass. Alex didn’t understand. The cover had felt solid in his hands. The grave robber had held the book and dropped it, and there hadn’t been any damage done. He turned slightly and lifted the book closer to his face. It would be almost impossible to read anything in the moonlight, but he tried anyway.
A spark of magic jumped from the page, and Alex jerked his head back instinctively. Some of the words on the page shone like fire in the moonlight, burning themselves into his mind. The magic wasn’t strong, and Alex knew that he could break it, but the words were important. Only a dozen or so words burned in the moonlight, and then the book crumbled to dust in his hands.
Alex wiped his hands and looked down at the pile of dust at his feet. This was unexpected, and he wasn’t sure what to make of it. He thought about the words he’d seen, and tried to fit them together. All of the words had been written in the common language, but none of the words were common.
“Darloch est messer ,” Alex said softly in the darkness.
The hair on the back of
his neck stood up. These words were from the language of the dragons, and Alex had to think about what they might mean. Depending on how the writer had meant to use them, they could mean master of dragons . If the writer had meant something different, the words could be translated as destroyer of dragons . Alex couldn’t be sure. He needed to see what was written before and after these three words or they simply didn’t make any sense.
As he started to leave the graveyard once more, Alex thought about the other words he’d seen. Something about an unnamed dragon—no, it was a dragon without a name. What in the world could that mean? Dragons always had names; they often had many names. Alex also knew that all dragons had one special name that they kept hidden. Every dragon had a true name, the name that made them what they were. A dragon without a name made less sense to Alex than a master or destroyer of dragons did.
A problem for another time, Alex thought.
“Make sure you have time. This is important,” his O’Gash commented.
Alex smiled at the comment. He would remember what he’d seen, even if he didn’t understand what it was about. Perhaps Whalen would know. Whalen knew all kinds of myths and legends, and if he didn’t know about this darloch est messer , he might know someone else who did.
While his thoughts about a nameless dragon continued to bounce around his mind, Alex focused on his next set of problems. First, he had to get to the city of Shinmar, hopefully without running into any more trouble. Second, he had to hope that Whalen would already be in Shinmar when he got there. If Whalen wasn’t there, and if he didn’t turn up within a day or two of Alex’s arrival, then Alex knew he’d be in real trouble.
Whalen had said that if he didn’t turn up that Alex should go on to Midland, and he would catch up. If Whalen didn’t catch up, however, then it would be up to Alex to take care of Jabez. Alex knew that Whalen trusted him to take care of this problem alone, if he had to; but he also knew it would be a far more difficult task if Whalen wasn’t there to help.
Adventurers Wanted, Book 5: The Axe of Sundering Page 4
