Adventurers Wanted, Book 5: The Axe of Sundering

by Forman, M. L.

  “We’ve made it,” Whalen said.

  “Made it where?” Alex asked.

  “I’m not sure. Before we go ashore, change your sword and take out your staff. We will travel as ourselves here. The time for hiding is over.”

  “Perhaps. But it would be best if you remain hidden from Jabez, at least for now.”

  It didn’t take long for Alex to retrieve his staff and his magic sword from his magic bag. He attached the sword to his belt, and immediately felt more like himself.

  “We will declare ourselves openly,” Whalen said, “but do not say more than is needed. Say you are a wizard but not that you are a dragon lord.”

  “Will that matter to these people?” Alex asked.

  “I doubt it, but it would be best to leave some things hidden,” Whalen answered.

  Ready for whatever lay ahead, Alex summoned up a light mage wind and guided their boat toward the docks. Before they were close enough to call out, Alex could see several men gathering on one of the docks, and Whalen worked the boat’s rudder to guide them to the group. Alex noted that Whalen had been right; these men did look more like warriors than any of the other men he’d seen in Midland. They were alert, and looked to be ready for anything.

  “Well met,” a man holding a lantern called as they approached the dock. “I am called Brock. I am the harbormaster here.”

  “Well met,” Whalen called back. “May we come ashore?”

  “We’d hardly put you out in a storm such as this,” Brock said. “Yet caution demands we know something about you before we welcome you to our city.”

  “We will gladly tell you all we can, but perhaps we can find someplace drier to talk,” Whalen said.

  Brock nodded and caught the rope that Whalen tossed to him. Their boat was quickly secured to the dock, and Alex and Whalen stepped ashore. Alex noticed that the men from the city kept their distance, and that at least three of the men carried crossbows under their cloaks.

  “Lucky you made land at all in such a small boat and in such a bad storm,” Brock said.

  “It was more than luck,” Whalen answered in a pleasant voice. “But I do wonder what city we’ve managed to come to.”

  “We’ll talk indoors,” Brock said, waving his lantern and starting off down the dock.

  Alex and Whalen followed, and the men from the city followed them. They left the docks behind and went up through the winding roads of the city. They walked in silence for a long time, and Alex guessed they were several hundred feet above the sea and nearly a mile of winding roads from the docks.

  “In here,” Brock finally said, stopping before a heavy wooden door.

  Glancing up, Alex could see that the building was some kind of fortress. The men who had followed them from the docks had fallen behind, but Alex knew they were there and that their numbers had more than doubled. These men were afraid of something, and Alex wondered what kind of trouble he and Whalen had just walked into.

  Brock led them through the doorway and down a long hall that had no decorations of any kind. At the end of the hallway, they entered a large round room with a round table and a dozen chairs around it. Except for the lantern Brock was carrying, the room was dark, but Alex knew it was not empty. Brock placed his lantern on the table, motioned for them to sit down, and shuffled to the far side of the room.

  “Any trouble?” a soft voice asked.

  “No, my lady,” another, deeper voice answered.

  Alex, listening with his wizard’s ear, could hear the lowered voices plainly. There was trouble here, but he wasn’t sure just how much. He took a chair next to Whalen, letting his eyes look beyond the lantern light. He could see a dozen men standing silently near the wall on the far side of the room. Each man held a crossbow pointed at Whalen and himself.

  “They have the look of wizards, but I see no magic,” the soft voice commented.

  “Just men, then?” her companion asked.

  “Doubtful, considering how they arrived here. Use caution. There is something about them, but I cannot make it out,” the soft voice answered before trailing off.

  A large man stepped into the light. “Forgive me, gentlemen, for your long march.” His deep voice filled the small room. “You are doubtless tired from your travels, and hungry, I daresay. Food and drink is on the way, and then we will find you a place to rest.”

  “I think some talk would be more welcome than food or rest,” Whalen said. “When we arrived, I asked what city we had come to, and I’ve been waiting for an answer for some time now.”

  “You don’t know where you are?” the large man asked.

  “It is not so easy to keep track of where you are in the middle of a storm at sea,” Whalen said with a slight smile.

  “True enough,” the man replied, running his hand over his face. “First, however, I will ask who you are, and what your business in Westland might be.”

  “You reveal nothing,” Whalen said thoughtfully. “Very well. I am Whalen Vankin, wizard and member of the council of wizards.”

  “And you?” the man asked, looking at Alex.

  “I don’t enjoy speaking while under threat,” Alex said, looking past the speaker to the armed men behind him. “However, as you appear to be set on this course, I am Alexander Taylor, wizard and adventurer.”

  “Threat?” the man asked, looking from side to side as if no one was there. “Clearly there is no threat here for a wizard, and even less for two.”

  “Little enough,” Whalen said, giving Alex a warning look. “Come now, sir, will you not tells us who you are, and what city we have come to?”

  “I am Timold, lord of this city, and before I say more I will ask that you both place your staffs on the table in front of you and move back toward the door,” he said sternly.

  “I had hoped for a friendlier greeting,” Whalen commented.

  “You will be held under guard until such time as the king’s council can decide what to do with you,” Timold said.

  “We don’t have time for this nonsense,” Alex said, his dragon’s temper starting to rise.

  “Lay down your staffs and move back,” Timold repeated.

  “There is no need for this,” Whalen said.

  “Lay down your staffs or we will use force,” Timold almost shouted.

  “Enough of this!” Alex shouted back.

  With one quick move, Alex was on his feet, his staff held up and ablaze with a pure white light that filled the room. He magically froze the crossbows, so when the men behind Timold all tried to fire their bolts, they found their crossbows useless. Many of them dropped their crossbows and tried to draw their swords.

  “Enough!” Alex repeated, raising his hand and freezing the swords in their scabbards.

  “Alex, be calm,” Whalen said. “I’m sure we can make Timold see reason. It will just take some time.”

  “We’ve wasted too much time already,” Alex replied. “I can see Jabez’s hand at work here. Fear and mistrust fills this land already. We are not your enemy, Timold. We do not serve the so-called lord of Conmar. We have come to destroy this evil, or at least drive it out of your lands. If you will not aid us in our quest, then stand aside and let us pass.”

  “You claim not to serve the lord of Conmar, yet you use magic against us,” Timold replied, tugging on his frozen sword. “How can we know why you have come here and who you serve?”

  Alex could see that his temper was creating a problem instead of helping them find answers. He took a deep breath to calm himself, and considered Timold’s question. How could he prove that they didn’t serve Conmar?

  “Before I answer, tell us what city we have come to?” Alex said. “Knowing where we are might help us to answer your questions.”

  “I don’t see how knowing where you are can help in any way,” Timold said. “However, I can’t see that it can hurt either. You have come to the city of Valora, capital of the southern kingdom of Westland.”

  “Valora,” Alex repeated. “There is one among y
ou, Joshua by name, nephew of your king. He will know me, and he will speak for me.”

  “Lord Joshua is not here,” Timold said. “He did not return from his quest in the east, and it is rumored that—”

  “He has been taken by the lord of Conmar’s men,” Alex finished for him. “I was afraid this would happen, Whalen. We should have done more for him.”

  “What more could we have done?” Whalen asked.

  “You know Lord Joshua?” Timold asked, his tone softening.

  “I met him in Eastland and helped him to escape some men who had come from Conmar,” Alex answered. “The three of us traveled together to Midland. He was going to make his way home from there. Whalen and I had made other arrangements for our own travel, and so we parted company nearly eight months ago.”

  “Your words ring true, and the timing seems right, but . . .” Timold stammered.

  “There is a way.” A figure in a hooded cloak stepped forward for the first time.

  It was the softer voice that Alex had heard when they first entered this room. Alex looked at the figure, and he could see magic around it, strong magic that was trying to hide itself and its owner. Alex smiled slightly, because he knew that the voice was too musical for a human; it was the voice of an elf.

  “True wizards cannot lie if they swear by their staff,” the elf said. “We know something of Master Vankin, but his fiery young friend is a mystery to us. Still, if they will swear by their staffs that they mean no harm to your people, that they do not serve the evil in Conmar, you may trust what they say.”

  “Will you so swear?” Timold asked, looking from Alex to Whalen.

  “Gladly,” Alex and Whalen answered together.

  A wizard swearing by his staff was a simple and powerful test, but it required magic. Alex worried that the act of swearing by his staff would reveal Whalen to Jabez, but he didn’t try to talk Whalen out of it. So, after swearing by his own staff, Alex turned all his thoughts on Whalen, working to hide him and his magic from Jabez. He hoped that Jabez was not actively looking for Whalen, but then Alex felt a small flicker of Whalen’s magic escape from his hiding spell. Even though it was small, it was like a blazing light shooting across Alex’s mind, and he knew that if Jabez was looking at all, he would see the same light.

  Alex concentrated and with great effort, pushed the flash of magic away from Whalen and out across the stormy sea. Alex hoped that Jabez would think that Whalen was somewhere out at sea and perhaps even believe that Whalen had been lost at sea, but Alex didn’t think they would be that lucky.

  Alex looked up and saw that the hooded elf was watching everything he did, as if trying to see something that wasn’t there. He wondered how much the elf might know, and how much she only guessed at. Alex’s own magic had hidden Whalen and himself from Jabez, but he wasn’t sure it would hide them from a very magical elf who was looking right at them.

  “We will find you a place to rest, and then discuss what we can do to help you in your quest,” Timold said.

  “Rest can wait. We are farther south than I thought, much farther,” Whalen said. “We should talk to your king, Lord Darthon. I’m sure he will have a great interest in our plans.”

  “That will not be possible,” said Timold. “Lord Darthon has fallen ill, stricken by some sickness that we do not recognize or know.”

  “What are his symptoms?” Alex asked in concern.

  “He lies in his bed like a dying man, unable to eat or even speak. His eyes are open but he is unable to see. Our healers have not been able to do anything for him, and they fear for his life,” Timold answered in a troubled voice.

  “How long has he been this way?” Whalen asked.

  “He has been ill for some time. For weeks now, he has been listless and distracted, one might say lost in his own mind. His condition worsened about ten days ago,” Timold said.

  “Take us to him at once,” Whalen said, jumping to his feet. “This sounds like some devilry of Jabez’s making. Some magical sickness he sends to weaken your people.”

  “Devilry to be sure, but, even our friends”—Timold bowed slightly to the elf—“are unable to help him.”

  “We may be able to help where they cannot,” Alex said. “Please, you must let us try.”

  “I don’t think—” Timold started, but the hooded elf interrupted him.

  “It is said that wizards see what others cannot. Perhaps they can find what troubles your lord where I cannot.”

  Timold nodded, and led the group out of the building and into the streets of Valora. A dozen men and the mysterious elf accompanied them through the light rainfall. The sky was lighter now, though the storm at sea would prevent any real sunshine through the clouds.

  It seemed that everything in Valora was made of gray stone, which was depressing in the rain. The buildings, while well-made and richly decorated, looked cold and cheerless in the early gray morning light. Even the empty streets were made of crafted stones carefully laid into patterns that Alex couldn’t quite make out.

  Alex noticed that their path led up the side of a mountain, with switchbacks that wove back and forth several times. At each turning they passed through a wide gate. After passing through five gates, they came to a level path that led them into a massive open square. On the far side of the square was a castle that might have been white in proper sunlight, but under the storm clouds was as gray as all the other buildings.

  They paused at the castle gate, where the twelve men who had accompanied Timold fell back and four men in gold and silver armor assumed the role of guards. Timold said a few quick words to the gatekeeper, and then he and the elf led Alex and Whalen into the castle. Alex could see very little of the inside of the castle, as most of its lamps were not lit. His mind was filled with thoughts about Darthon’s mystery sickness. Would he and Whalen be able to help? Could they detect whatever dark magic Jabez was using when a magical elf could not?

  Finally, they entered a chamber high within the castle’s main building. The four guards who had followed them from the gate remained outside with two others who were already stationed there. The lamps were burning low, and Alex felt strangely unsettled.

  “Wait here a moment,” Timold said, then he and the elf entered another nearby room.

  “What do you think this is?” Alex asked Whalen.

  “I don’t know,” Whalen answered. “There are many dark spells that can make men sick, but they don’t last this long usually. Dark magic does its work quickly. It may cause great pain for the sufferer, but it is almost always quick—or at least quicker than this.”

  “Something Jabez learned from the Brotherhood, no doubt.”

  “I fear so.”

  Timold returned to the room alone. “Come this way, if you will. The healers fear that Darthon does not have much time left in this world. If you can do anything at all, now would be a good time.”

  Alex and Whalen followed Timold down a short hallway and toward another dimly lit room. Timold entered first, followed by Whalen.

  Inside the room, eight or nine shadowy figures crowded around a bed. On the bed lay a man, about fifty years old. A woman sat beside him who Alex suspected was his wife. Whalen marched up to the bed and looked down at the man with concern. “We will assist in any way we—” Whalen started to say and stopped.

  Alex, still standing in the doorway, froze in place. He took a deep breath and smelled magic in the air. Licking his lips, he could almost taste it, and he knew that this illness was not the work of Jabez or any other wizard.

  “Whalen, get them out,” Alex said in a deep, growling voice. “It is a trap. Get them all out. I will go for Darthon.”

  “What? Alex, I don’t understand—what do you mean?”

  “The dragon,” Alex answered. “Please, get them out of here.”

  Alex didn’t wait to see if Whalen understood him or did what he asked. His mind had already moved away from his body and into a magical place that was both real and unreal at the same time. It was
a place created by the mind of a dragon, and Darthon had been trapped there for a long time.

  Alex blinked a few times to clear his vision and found himself in a wide, shadow-filled valley. Multicolored boulders formed strange shapes like nothing he’d ever seen in the real world. Plants and trees were everywhere, but they were all dead and gray; there was nothing green or living that Alex could see. An empty riverbed snaked through the valley floor, and Alex followed it as he began his search.

  Walking was difficult, as the rocks in and along the empty river were large and jagged; clearly, no water had ever flowed past them to smooth their edges. Where there were no rocks, there was sand, so deep and soft it was difficult to walk through. It was hot in the valley, but there was no sun above him, and the sky was just another shade of gray. Alex pressed forward, his own will driving him on.

  Minutes or hours passed and nothing really changed. Time and distance were meaningless here, and it was only Alex’s willpower and magic that kept him moving in the right direction. Obstacles appeared in his path, and Alex made his way around them or over them. He would not be stopped. It was a kind of maze, a winding path that always looked the same no matter where you looked or how far you walked. Finally, Alex found what he’d been looking for, but what he saw did not make him feel any better.

  A golden dragon stood to one side of the dry riverbed, its eyes fixed on the small figure of a man. Alex knew that the figure was Darthon, or at least his mind and spirit, trapped inside the dragon’s spell. The figure of Darthon tried to escape, but the beast toyed with him as a cat would a mouse. Every time Darthon darted one way, the dragon blocked his escape. Every time Darthon tried to rest, the dragon would close in and force him to move.