“But you’ll be back in the morning?”
“And you’ll bring the ale. This deal works both ways, laddie. And requires a bit o’trust.”
“Alright,” Dex said, feeling out of place. “I’ll be here.”
The dwarf grumbled as he climbed into the hole and disappeared. There was a solid hour before the sun went down, but the wall cast a long shadow and the night was bitterly cold. Just before dark the dwarf tossed a hunk of coal the size of a loaf of bread out of the hole. Dex couldn’t see him, but he heard the dwarf say, “I trust ya know what ta do with that.”
Dex thanked his new acquaintance and set to work breaking the large hunk of coal in smaller pieces that would be easier to ignite. Once he had the coal broken apart, he used a simple kindling spell to set it burning. The coal didn’t produce large flames the way that wood did, but it burned hotter and longer than wood. Dex gathered rocks, which were abundant since the rock troll had been shattered. The creature’s body was living rock until it died, then it was just dead stone. Dex used the pieces of the fallen creature to build a back stop for his campfire. The rocks reflected the heat between them and the wall where Dex laid out Titan’s blanket to rest on. He fixed a meager meal from the dwindling supplies he had in his saddle bag, and propped his head on Titan’s saddle.
Bliss hovered around the camp for a while, but once the sun went down she made her roost up on the wall. Dex didn’t know if there was something atop the wall that attracted her, or if she just preferred being as high as possible. Dex had trouble sleeping. He wondered what dangers the dwarf had been referring to along the wall at night, but nothing bothered him.
When the sun rose, Dex was up with it. He ate dried beef and saddled Titan, while Bliss flew off in search of her own meal. A full hour passed before the dwarf reappeared.
“I thought you might have forgotten me,” Dex said.
“Dwarves never forget. But we keep our own time. Sun and moon are nothin’ ta us.”
“I’m glad you’re here,” Dex said. “I appreciate the coal.”
“I heard ya last night,” the dwarf grumbled, clearly unhappy to be out in the open.
Dex wanted to point out that the dwarf hadn’t responded to his expression of gratitude, but decided that the dwarf simply wasn’t a talkative creature. There were times when he wished that Kyp and Squirrel were on the quest with him. Dex felt certain the dwarf would respond to Kyp in a much friendlier way, and Squirrel would know all sorts of useful information about the great wall, rock trolls, dwarves, and whatever else he was likely to run into in the Northern Kingdoms.
Being on a quest was more difficult than Dex had expected. Not that his other adventures had been easy, but his quest was the first time he’d truly been alone. The only thing that came close was returning to the Marshyl compound with Bliss’ feathers after his first apprenticeship with Outrider Reegan. That journey had been intimidating, but not stressful or dangerous. His quest on the other hand was very dangerous. He had been attacked by a ring mage, waylaid by his father, captured by a Greeg tribe who had almost sacrificed him to one of their strange gods, and attacked by a rock troll. And if Dex failed his quest he wouldn’t become a Marshyl.
Reegan had hinted that he would be given other chances to become a Knight if he failed, but Dex had a feeling that second chances were rare. He had met enough Guild members who were content mucking the stables or cooking in the mess hall to realize that a Marshyl who wasn’t able to serve in the field had very limited choices. Dex didn’t want to be a cook or stable hand. All he’d ever dreamed about was being a Marshyl Knight, and that meant completing his quest no matter how difficult or dangerous.
“This human yur chasin,’” the dwarf said. “He’s one o’them Regulators.”
“A what?” Dex asked.
The dwarf shook his head. “A Regulator. They’re spreading out in the northern kingdoms. Preaching about free magic and Marshyl oppression. He passed through the wall a few days back.”
“You know him?”
“I know what he is. Seen plenty like him in my lifetime. Just another group tryin’ ta justify their crimes.”
“You don’t agree with them then?”
“I wasn’t around befur the Marshyl Guild,” the dwarf said. “I ain’t that old. But I remember the stories... bad times. The Marshyls changed that fur the better, even if they are humans. Yur kind is short lived, ya want everything fast and that leads to cruelty. Even good intentions get tainted if yur not careful.”
“So what do the Regulators want?”
“It ain’t the Regulators who are the problem. It’s like a sickness, ya can’t just treat the symptoms without addressin’ the source of the problem. Their leader is a master manipulator.”
“Crane?” Dex asked.
“That’s him. A ruddy sorcerer with an eye on bringing the entire realm under his thumb. Claims he wants ta set us all free, but what he’s really after is an end to the Marshyls, cause they’re the only ones that can stop him.”
“You’ve met him?”
“No, but I’ve seen ’im. I’ve heard his message an’ the poppycock his Regulators preach. It’s all a smoke screen. My guess is your man was runnin’ back home, an’ he’ll have made it there easily enough. The Regulators have taken over Mygar’s Keep. They rebuilt the old castle, repaired the battlements. It’s a proper fortress now, an’ well guarded. You won’t get near it without bein’ seen in the daylight. Best to travel at night an’ keep a low profile when the sun’s out.”
“That’s helpful,” Dex said. “Thank you.”
“Well, it’s a fool’s errand, if you take my meaning. I don’t expect you’ll be able to deliver that ale once you’re dead.”
“I’ll do my best not to disappoint you.”
“See that you don’t. Dwarves have long memories and we tend to hold a grudge.”
Dex smiled. He was warming up to the grumpy dwarf, and he thought that maybe he was letting down his guard, just a little. He had a craggy face, with more lines and wrinkles than any human Dex had seen. Most of the dwarf’s face was hidden behind his bushy beard. It started high on his cheeks and ran in a dense bunch to his chin and down his thick chest. The dwarf was built like barrel, with a small head, powerful chest and shoulders, wide hips, and short legs. He wore thick-soled boots, gray woolen pants that looked homespun. Around his waist was a wide leather belt with a variety of tools hanging from small loops. A hammer with a large head hung from his right hip and he walked with his arm propped upon the bluish metal.
“Where did you get your hammer?” Dex asked.
“This? It was my great, great grandfather’s,” the dwarf said, plucking the hammer from his belt. “Forged in the old way. It took a dozen dwarves over a hundred years ta work the metal. That’s one thing my people have in common with ya Marshals, we both work the forge. They say that long ago the source itself heated the dwarf forges an’ my people worked metal that lasted for centuries.”
“The source?”
“Don’t pretend,” the dwarf growled, “not with me, laddie. Yur people have guarded the source fur as long as I’ve been alive. An’ you’ve seen it, I can read that much in yur eyes.”
“What do you know about it?”
“As much as I need ta, and nothin’ more. Tis a creation stone and the source of all magic. My people don’t wield the power as much as we live according to its rhythms.”
“I’d love to learn more about your people,” Dex said.
“Well, first you have to live long enough ta bring me that ale you’ve promised,” the dwarf said. “Then maybe we can talk about my folk. We’re a grand race, the dwarves. But look here, we’ve reached the passage.”
Dex could see a crack in the wall. It looked almost like the wall had shifted and split apart, but as they drew nearer he saw that the stone on one side overlapped the other, which made the opening visible only from one angle. Looking at the wall straight on a person would never even notice the pass was there. It wa
s just wide enough for a wagon to pass through, and Dex saw that he wouldn’t have any trouble riding Titan through the opening.
“I really appreciate your help,” Dex said. “I’m in your debt.”
“An’ don’t ya forget it,” the dwarf said. “I’ll be keepin’ an eye out fur that ale.”
“I’ll bring it, I promise,” Dex replied.
“Good luck, human.”
Dex turned to offer his hand to the dwarf, but the grumpy little figure disappeared into another small hole in the wall.
“Well, it’s just the two of us again,” Dex told Titan, double checking the horse’s girth straps before climbing up into the saddle. “What do you say we get through the wall and find Maslow?”
Titan neighed and shook his big head.
“Alright boy,” Dex said patting the stallion’s neck. “Go on.”
Chapter 18
Maslow returned to Mygar’s Keep late on the same night Dex was camped by the great wall. He felt no regret for his actions. He hadn’t killed Dex, in fact he had left the boy with food, water, and most importantly transportation. Then he’d taken his time coming north, his concerns about the Marshyl Guild nearly forgotten. They were terrified of him, and rightly so. Even their vaunted Lord Marshyl was no match for Maslow’s power. Only his son had resisted Maslow’s magic, and he wasn’t convinced that his failure in the mountains hadn’t been a subconscious reaction to his son’s appearance.
Memories of his former life had come pouring back into his mind when his wolf’s bite curse had rebounded onto him from the boy’s round shield. He had been shocked, almost as if he had been one minute at sea, lost in a deadly storm, and the next minute he awoke on the battlefield. He had run, not because he couldn’t fight, but because he didn’t know why he was fighting. In that instant his world had turned upside down. He remembered being found by his master, and being trained to wield magic. The Sage Regulators weren’t merely wand casters, they weren’t common outlaws feuding with ring mages for more territory or power. Crane’s highly trained and focused army of wizards existed for the sole purpose of destroying the Marshyl Guild and finding the Sylykron.
Nothing had prepared him for seeing his son in full armor on the battlefield where Maslow had struck down the leader of the Marshyl Guild. The rest of the Marshyls, nothing more than a band of magic hoarders in Maslow’s opinion, had cowered inside their fortress. Only his son had found the courage to stand against Maslow, and for that the wizard was grateful. It had taken the shock of seeing his only child arrayed against him to shake him from the lethargy he had struggled with for nearly a decade. His old life had called to him from a memory as dark as a stormy night, and just as disturbing. No matter what he tried, he couldn’t see beyond the moment he had awoken at sea. He didn’t know why he was there, or where his ship had been cast by the treacherous waves, only that something shrouded in mystery was calling to him, some sense of responsibility, some lost emotional connection.
In an instant everything had become clear. He knew who he was, and what he was, the only question remaining was what he was going to do. Without thinking he had struck out for the only place he felt safe. He had expected the Marshyls to pursue him, but not his own son. In some ways he felt pride in his son’s accomplishments, but also betrayal. There were so many unknowns, like how his son had managed to get accepted in the Marshyl Guild, or why his own magical powers had proven ineffective against him. The boy had mentioned his unique armor, and once Maslow had gotten close enough he could see that it was truly unlike anything he had encountered before. The protective nature of the magic infused in the fine steel was powerful. So Maslow had taken the armor, as well as the sword his son wielded. After freezing his son in place, Maslow had searched his belongings and recovered his own wand as well as a fine ruby ring set in bronze.
His late return to the Keep allowed him to bypass any questions. He was admitted into the high walls of the great fortress and made his way quickly to his own quarters inside one of the four watchtowers. He stashed the stolen armor and sword among his other meager belongings. Master Crane eschewed personal possessions among his Regulators, although Maslow could see that the old sorcerer didn’t mind surrounding himself with the finer things. The keep itself was the biggest indicator. It had been a crumbling ruin before they assumed control of the fortress. Part of the royal palaces of the Forsynth king, Torgyl’s Wall had long made the keep irrelevant to the kingdom’s security and little more than an expensive distraction, hence the disrepair and neglect. But Master Crane had convinced King Askar that it would be the perfect place for his monastery of wizards. Using magic, they had rebuilt the keep at a fraction of the cost it should have taken, and the surrounding lords brought lavish gifts to ingratiate themselves with Crane.
He had kept the gifts and ensconced himself in a vast suite of rooms, where he commanded his army of Regulators like a sovereign ruler. He was too crafty to be a tyrant, and while Maslow still believed in the mission he had spent the last decade training to accomplish, he no longer felt the cult=like obsession with the leader of the Sage Regulators. Master Crane could wait for his report, and the old sorcerer didn’t need to know about his son’s armor. Or, for that matter, the fact that Maslow had recovered his memory.
The next morning he was summoned, just as Maslow had expected. He was tired, and the wounds on his chest ached with every breath. He had done his best to heal the wounds, but they weren’t just lacerations. The magic that formed the sweeping gashes lingered, festering in his flesh and refusing to let his body heal. He walked slowly down the spiral staircase of the watchtower and then across the great hall to the wide flight of marble stairs that led up to his master’s suite of rooms. At the doorway he knocked. Few people enjoyed the master’s trust the way that Maslow did. But the wizard had earned that trust by working hard and becoming the most powerful wizard in the ranks of Crane’s Regulators.
“Ah, my Hammer has returned,” the master said, as Maslow bowed deeply. “Your mission was not a success?”
“No, my lord,” Maslow reported. “I was effective in striking fear into the Marshyl Guild, just as you predicted. And my skills were more than a match for even their figurehead leader. But I was ambushed at the last instant and forced to retreat from the walls of their stronghold.”
“A pity, I would enjoy seeing them swept away like rubbish. They are the past, my friend. We are the future.”
“Give me time to recover, my lord,” Maslow said. “They cannot hide from us now.”
“They weren’t hiding before,” Crane said. “Do not grow overconfident. Your greatest ally was their fear. But they have seen that you are just a man now. They will fight you with renewed strength and fear for their way of life. Your task will be twice as hard and we have even less time.”
“Forgive me,” Maslow said through gritted teeth as he bowed again.
“Tell me everything,” the old man said as he glided gently into an ornate throne, softened with embroidered pillows.
The sorcerer snapped his fingers and a goblet of wine was brought to him on a silver platter by a servant. The master sipped his wine and then nodded his head toward Maslow, who began explaining the details of his mission, from his murderous encounters with Marshyl Knights to his desperate flight back to the fortress where his master awaited him.
Chapter 19
The great wall was much bigger than Dex thought. The enormous barrier was almost one hundred feet wide at the bottom. It narrowed slightly but Dex could see that dozens of thick blocks had been set in place to create the massive wall, and what lay beneath it, or even inside it, was in fact a great mystery. Someday, he thought, he would have to return with Kyp and Squirrel and explore the wall, but as magnificent as it was, Dex focused his mind instead on the task of finding his father.
It wasn’t quite midday when he reached the other side. And while he needed to move toward the ancient fortress where he believed his father was hiding, he didn’t want to attract attention. With
out his armor, no one would mistake him for a Marshyl, but the glistening platinum and opal adhered to his right hand and his fine, black stallion would keep him from blending in. Not to mention the huge phoenix circling overhead.
Bliss swooped down, cooing happily to Dex. Titan didn’t seem to mind the bird when she wasn’t screeching and flapping her massive wings near his head. Unfortunately, the big phoenix was too big to land on the saddle, or even on Dex’s shoulder. She didn’t like landing on the ground, so she kept to the air as much as possible.
“Bliss, you have to stay here,” Dex said.
The bird cooed sadly.
“No, I want you with me. But we can’t afford to attract too much attention. Stay here, so I can find my way back through the wall. I’ll be in a hurry I’m sure.”
Bliss hooted and shot back up into the sky. Soon she was gone from sight. Late in the afternoon Dex came to a small village. There was no way to know who he could trust, but in the days that he and Kyp had scrounged for a living in Rycaster, old Horris, who ran the livery barn, had been one of the few people he could look to for help. In the village, which had a large livery, Dex took his time getting to know the owner. He was an older man with a wooden leg and a puckered scar across his bald scalp.
“Been here all my life,” the man said slowly. “Living in the shadow of the great wall.”
The barn was clean and much warmer than outside.
“I’m looking for a wagon,” Dex said.
“Don’t got no wagon,” the livery man said. “Got a cart I can let go for a good price.”
“Let’s see it,” Dex said.
The man looked at Dex for a moment, his eyes wandering down to Dex’s hand. There was no way to hide the platinum with opal fragments spread across his knuckles. And the deer skin poncho made him look a bit savage.
“I ran into some trouble beyond the wall,” Dex said. “I was lucky to escape from the Greeg alive.”
“Indeed you were, they’re animals. Ain’t nothing good beyond the wall. Come with me.”
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