Sulrad placed his hand on the stone beside Urnard’s. The magic running through the stone was strong, but muted, as if it had been placed there in ancient times. Was this a building that had once been above ground and buried by the ages, or had it originally been built below the streets of this very town?
He wished to spend more time delving into its secrets. Was this the ancients Veran spoke of? What wonders lay within if he could only open the door? How had it come to be here? Who did it belong to? Why now? Why had he discovered this on the very day they were to free the temple? Was it a test? A distraction?
“Sulrad?” Urnard placed a hand on his arm.
“Sorry. There is something about this place that draws me.”
“More than your temple? Your god?”
“No. You are correct. This is a distraction. First, we free the temple. When I have done that, there will be time.”
“I agree,” Urnard said. “My folk have begun tunneling up. Let’s see how much progress they’ve made.”
She followed her as her powerful legs climbed the newly formed steps the dwarves had cut into the rock itself. The winding stairs ended in a short tunnel of earth shored up with timber. The light streaming into the tunnel had a strange emerald cast to it, as if it had been filtered through a canopy of leaves, and the air had an odor to it that reminded Sulrad of the decay of vegetation found deep in the woods.
As they emerged into the light, the reason became apparent. They had emerged inside the bubble of glass that enclosed the temple, but not the temple itself. Encircling the temple was a thick tangle of vines, ropes the size of Sulrad’s arms wove themselves around the stone and wood of the temple. Spaced along the vines were thorns the size of his thumb, each needle-sharp tip dripping with what smelled like poison.
“Looks like you have your work cut out for you.” Urnard peered at one of the thorns and straightened up. “You won’t mind if we leave this to you? We’re not much for things that grow. Especially not things like this.”
“You have been more than generous,” Sulrad said.
Urnard slapped him on the back. “I hope your god is strong enough to clear all this away. From what I can see of the stone beneath all this, you have some nice work here, for a human. Someone has a flair for the stone, and I’m thinking it might be my daughter.”
Sulrad nodded.
“You’re going to take care of her?” The concern in Urnard’s eyes was unmistakable. Whatever had come between the woman and her daughter had been softened. Yet even it if hadn’t, she cared for her daughter, wanted the best for her.
“I am. She is my most trusted confidant and a loyal follower of Ran.”
“I’m not so sure it’s Ran she’s here for, but if you hurt her like that sniveling cur who stole her son, I’ll hunt you down and see that you pay.”
“I assure you, I have no ill intent toward her.” Sulrad felt a twinge of guilt at his own words, but he quickly swallowed it. If he let his shame show, the woman might well take it as his attempt to hide a lie, that he did indeed have plans to abandon Ignal. Nothing could be further from the truth.
“Human?” Urnard asked.
“Sorry. I was praying,” Sulrad lied.
“Well, I hope it helps. My folk and I are ready to head out.”
“Can you not stay a bit longer?” Sulrad asked. “I’m certain your daughter would be happy for your company.”
“You lie like you have no experience at it. If we stay too long, my daughter and I will be at each other’s throats. You don’t want to be responsible for that, do you?” She stuck her arm out in invitation and turned toward the wooden frame that led back below ground.
“Truly, it’s not a skill I have honed. I prefer the truth whenever possible, or silence when it’s not possible.”
“Knew I liked you for a reason. Someday, you’re going to come visit me. On that day, I’m going to show you what hospitality is really like.” Her fingers closed around his hand as he took her arm, sending a shiver up his spine.
22
Garlath stood before the assembled wizards of Amedon. Most of the faces wore harsh expressions save for Alwroth and Uskin. The pair that governed Amedon had always been the voice of reason on the council. It was they who had devised the plan he had recently completed. Much had changed in the moon since he’d been here last. He had succeeded in his charge to stop Sulrad from entering the lair of the Dragon Lord, only to discover that, with the help of the dwarves, Sulrad had skirted his efforts and discovered the very trove of knowledge they had attempted to deny him. To make matters worse, the young wizard Kelnor still hadn’t been found. Garlath was certain that he had something to do with recent events.
“So you have failed?” Helmyer asked.
“It seems so.” Garlath turned a pleading eye to Uskin.
“Please,” Uskin said. “Arguing amongst ourselves does nothing. Garlath was sent to see if he could stop Sulrad from reaching the study of the Dragon Lord. We knew it was a risk. We knew it was fraught with danger. No one truly believed it was anything else.”
“Was it not he who recommended that we send this Kelnor along?” Helmyer consulted a parchment before him. “Knowing that Kelnor was a friend and advocate for Sulrad during his time as a student?”
“Without Kelnor, we would have been able to accomplish nothing. He was key to discovering how to trigger the spell and instrumental in the development of the spell we ultimately used.”
“Which failed.”
Garlath bit his lip. Helmyer was so self-righteous, yet had offered nothing but criticism as they had attempted to devise a plan. On days like this, Garlath was thankful that he was temporarily assigned to guide Zhimosom and Rotiaqua to Amedon. He worried what they might be up to and fretted about having sufficient time to get to Tustow before they arrived. What he wanted to do was to tell Helmyer what he truly thought of the wizard’s lack of leadership. He imagined himself stepping from the council chambers directly to Tustow to resume his primary mission. Yet he could not. He had to resolve the Kelnor situation before he was free to head out. “I will keep you apprised,” he said.
“You will not let this deter you from your responsibilities to the wizard and the sorceress?” Helmyer demanded.
“I assure you, I am keeping an eye on Zhimosom and Rotiaqua. They are making good progress. They will arrive in Tustow soon enough and then we shall see.”
Helmyer glanced at Uskin, who waved away his gaze then turned to Garlath. “Before you go.” She glanced quickly at Alwroth and back to Garlath. “Would you do us the honor of dining with us?”
“Most certainly.” Garlath nodded and turned to go, expecting to be summoned when Uskin and Alwroth had time to settle into their quarters, but Uskin jumped up from her seat and rushed to take his arm.
Alwroth followed close behind as they made their way to the wizard’s quarters.
Upon entry, Alwroth twitched his fingers and lit the fireplace, filling the room with a warmth that Garlath found welcoming. The senior wizard poured three glasses of deep red wine and handed one to Uskin and another to Garlath. He took one for himself and settled into a chair facing the fire.
“They want your head,” Alwroth stated without preamble.
“How was I to know…”
“You weren’t.” Alwroth interrupted. “They are angry. Frustrated. Embarrassed. None of them had even the slightest idea of what to do, and you did. That makes them uncomfortable.” He gestured to Uskin. “We, on the other hand, have a different opinion about things.”
“Before you left, the visions seemed to indicate that Amedon would be wiped out, and the dragons slaughtered. It was horrifying. When you undertook to alter the course of things, the visions became muddy. As if there was an alternate path, one not yet set or even understood. After your return, the visions have become clear once more.”
Uskin held her hands out, palms up. She exhaled. Tiny flecks of fire escaped her lips to form a figure above her hands. Two figures. A man and a w
oman. “Recognize these two?”
Garlath leaned in. It was Zhimosom and Rotiaqua. “We knew they played a part in this. How is this new?”
“The introduction of Kelnor into the fray changed things,” Uskin said. “The vision now shows a path where we may yet survive, or more accurately, how you may survive. Alas, there is little hope that we will.”
“How can you not survive?”
“We cannot see our own demise. Nor would we wish to. What we do see is you and these two surviving if things can be arranged just so. They are destined to take over the council, not in summers, but in moons. You will be their guide and mentor. More depends on you than you know.”
How could Uskin calmly discuss her own death with such an even tone? Didn’t it bother her? It bothered him. He would do whatever he could to see that she was wrong in this. He could barely imagine Amedon without the pair that had ruled it since long before his arrival as a boy.
“What is in store for me, then?” Garlath asked.
“What I have seen is not for me to share with you. You know the paradox. If I tell you what is to transpire, it will influence you and might cause the events I have foreseen not to come to pass. This is always the way of it. Knowing the future has little true value. Have I not just demonstrated that? We were fortunate that your actions, as ineffective as you see them, have made changes for the better.”
“What do you wish me to do?”
“Find Zhimosom and Rotiaqua. Help them in whatever way you can. When the time is right, bring them here.” Uskin blew the sparks from her outstretched palm into the hearth and folded her hands in her lap. “More than that, I cannot say.”
“I should be on my way,” Garlath said. “They are to arrive in Tustow soon, unless that has changed.”
“That has not changed, but you still have some time. Travel through the rough country is not so simple. Go to Tustow. Set yourself up there. Prepare for their arrival, but don’t get too comfortable. I don’t believe they will be there long. Once you have set yourself up, return to Frostan and see what you can of Kelnor, but do not interfere. He has become a part of this in a manner I cannot yet foresee.”
“I understand. I’ll do my best.”
“It is all anyone can be expected to do.” Uskin nodded, bringing the meeting to a close.
Garlath stood. “I believe I have an apothecary to create?”
Garlath perused the library, looking for a hint of what Kelnor had found that led him to the device he made. If one spell could be created by his apparatus, so could others. That meant a wizard could create a spell, imbue an apparatus with that spell, and leave it lying around for some unwitting person to trigger at some time in the future. What use had Kelnor planned for his devices? What future problems had Garlath created by forcing Kelnor to act against Sulrad? Garlath was certain that Kelnor had defected. He should have seen it sooner. Now instead of one wizard, he had two to worry about. Not for the first time, he wished he’d taken the opportunity to snuff out Sulrad’s life while he was still a student, rather than allow him to leave. It was a decision he was going to regret for the rest of his life. Now that Sulrad was bonded to the new pair, he was untouchable.
Garlath wished he could have traveled back to Frostan immediately, but his powers were low, and he knew better than to tackle the void without his full magic.
After a hand of days, his magic was sufficiently recharged to make the trip back to Frostan. He tidied up his study, informed Egrid of his plans, and opened a portal to the alley behind the Dusty Tankard.
When he arrived, it was cool but not cold. The day had been hot and wet as evidenced by the dampness of the streets and the cloying, clingy feel of the air. He pulled open the door to the Dusty Tankard and stepped inside.
Tanyica sat behind the desk, her eyes half closed as if she had been fighting off sleep.
“Room for one?” he asked.
“Still looking for your friend? He was back here the day after you left.”
“I just missed him?”
“Sure did.” She nodded. “He left in the morning. Said he had a sea voyage to make.”
“Did he say where?”
“Not a whisper.”
“Curses. If only I had known he was here.”
“You’re the only one who didn’t know. He was making such a racket, I was nigh unto casting him out. Banging and pounding all day and into the night. I’m not sure what he was making in there, but it took him a long time. Been at it since the day after you left.”
“What was it that he was making?”
“Not it — them,” Tanyica said. “He made a dozen or more of whatever they were at the very least. Small boxes. Nice red wood. Kind of rough-looking, with brass trim all over the like of which I’ve never seen. He was back and forth between the miller and the blacksmith almost every day. Must have finished. He hired a cart to haul them all away the night before he left. Told the porter to take them to the harbor.”
“I knew he was up to no good. You’re sure he didn’t say which ship he was taking?”
“No.”
“I better get to the harbor and see if I can find out anything.” Garlath turned to go.
“Still want the room?” Tanyica asked.
“If I’m back before dark, I’ll need it. If you can hire it to someone else, don’t let me stop you. You’ve been more than helpful.”
“Much obliged. If you’re headed to the port, best get to it. The tide turned a glass ago. Most likely, everyone who’s leaving port has already left.”
Garlath rushed for the harbor. Frostan was a sprawling city with the castle on the hill, a river that ran down from the mountain, and a harbor that was deep enough to host the largest of the oceangoing ships. A series of bridges connected the more affluent south side to the more pedestrian north side where the harbor lay. As he sprinted across the bridge to the harbor, Garlath saw the sails snap to as the last of the departing ships caught the wind and headed for parts unknown.
He rushed to the harbor master’s shack and poked his head in.
“Harbormaster around?”
A young boy sat on a chair with the two front legs in the air. He rocked slowly watching the harbor. He appeared not to have heard Garlath’s request.
“Pardon me, the harbormaster?”
The boy let his chair thud to the heavy wood of the pier and turned to Garlath. “The ships go, the harbormaster goes. The tide turned a while back. He’s gone to get some sleep. The tide comes and goes on its own schedule. Don’t much care if it’s the middle of the night or bright of day, now does it?”
“I’m looking for a friend of mine. I heard he might have boarded a ship today.”
“Which ship?”
“That’s what I’m trying to find out. How many ships set sail today?”
“Four.”
“Where they bound?” Garlath asked.
The boy raised an eyebrow at him and brushed his palm with his fingertips.
Garlath pressed a pair of coppers into the boy’s hand.
“Ryden and some others.”
Another pair of coppers.
“And Kirdon.” Another brush of his hand.
“No more,” Garlath said.
The boy shrugged. “That’s all. Two to Ryden, two to Kirdon. One by way of Quench.”
“How long to Ryden?”
“Seven, eight days. Depends on the seas. Rough sea slows a ship down. Smooth seas and she makes port in seven. This time of the season, more like eight maybe nine.”
Garlath tried to recall what he knew of Ryden. Why would Kelnor go there? But that had to be it. There was nothing in Kirdon. It had only recently been settled. But Ryden was the home of King Omrik and Omrik was no friend of wizards.
23
Morning had come, and with it a new perspective. Sulrad sat on the bed in the room Ignal had set aside for his use. It rankled him that the temple had been taken from him and he was reduced to little more than a beggar, even if the house technically b
elonged to the temple. The golds he had collected on behalf of Ran were stored in the temple, as were the rest of his worldly possessions. Ignal had ordered new clothes and robes tailored for him. That bothered him too. In truth, it suited him to be free from his possessions, even if it was the wizards who had taken them away from him. Was this Ran’s way of reminding him that love of possessions was a sin? Was that why Ran had allowed the wizards to take away the temple? Was that the way it was to remain, or was there a way to recover? At times like this, it was hard to believe that Ran had a plan for him and that things would ultimately work out. He hoped it was true, but doubt nagged at him.
A rap sounded at his door, and it swung open. Ignal appeared in the doorway. Since her parents had arrived, she had forsaken her priestly robes and was dressed more like the dwarves. Was that a way to appease her mother, or was she truly more comfortable that way?
She held out a sealed envelope. “A messenger arrived with a message for you.”
It was stained with tea and sealed with wax that bore no insignia. Scrawled on the face was his name in the ancient wizards’ tongue, just as it had appeared on his room in Amedon. Did that mean it was from Amedon? A message from the wizards? An ultimatum?
Sulrad picked the wax seal apart and opened the envelope. Inside was a piece of parchment folded in thirds. It was written in a mixture of several ancient tongues. Almost no one he knew would be able to read such a message, and only one person could have written it. He smiled as he mentally translated the polyglot, wondering what his old friend Kelnor was up to.
It is with a heavy heart that I write this message. I fear that I have been tricked into harming you by someone I trusted and should not have. For that, I am most humbly and most sincerely apologetic. I have since come to realize that what I have done may be undone by one with sufficient skill and power. I am confident that you possess both. You will find that the amulet that spells the temple is ancient and foreign to anything you may have come across. The wizards in the cursed city, I will not name them, have conspired to deny you access not to the temple as you believe, but to what lies beneath it. For some strange reason, fate has conspired to bring you to the place where you may be of greatest service to mankind. For reasons of security, I will not go into it in this note. Suffice it to say, I am confident that, in time, you will find the answer, and having found the answer, you will take whatever action you deem appropriate.
Dragon Lord: An Epic Fantasy Saga (Origins Book 2) Page 15
