“How encouraged?” I asked, as I buttered a seed cake. They had really good seed cakes in Anferny, for some reason. “He’s a very important figure, here. Anything we could do to help would be seen with gratitude.”
“The bad news is that I cannot, alas, restore him to his previous function. I just don’t have the equipment, anymore. And, perhaps, the skill. However,” she said, quickly, “with access to the infirmary at the geophysical station, I should be able to surgically repair some of the worst damage, particularly where the poorly healed bone is now pressing on this nerve cluster. That will remove the source of much of his pain. If I had songspells to work with, I could begin to regenerate the actual nerves. He may never ride into battle again or run any races. But I can at least relieve a tremendous amount of pain,” she promised.
“Are you sure?” I asked, skeptically.
“Compared to healing Alya, this is a residency-level procedure,” she assured me. “If that remote surgery suite is operational, and I secure some medicines locally for pain control and such, Lord Kanset should be able to walk across the room or go down the stairs without wanting to scream. You know that’s why he’s so quiet all the time, don’t you?” she asked. “He’s doped up with opium to keep his pain at bay, and that dulls the senses. And it’s addictive. This operation will make that unnecessary.”
“How long will it take?” I asked, concerned. We did not have very long to complete our quest, here. I was already starting to get anxious about tarrying in Anferny, and we had yet other stops planned.
“The operation? Only a few hours. But it will have to be done back at the Cave of the Ancients. Say a few days of recuperation in the infirmary there, and then a careful trip back here for more rest. Then some physical therapy. I’m writing up a complete proposal for you and Kanlan to look at.”
“I just don’t want to take too much time out of our quest,” I sighed. “We’ve made some progress, but we’ve already been here more than a week.”
“You can go tromping through the valley without me for a week, I’d imagine,” she snorted. “Go tour the Lakeshire, visit the Kilnusk, ask your questions, do your investigations, and then return to Unger Station when you’re ready. I should be done by then.”
“Have you discussed it with Lord Kanlan?” I asked.
“Of course! It wouldn’t be ethical to discuss it with you until I had, and received his permission,” she said, tapping on her tablet. “He’s cautiously in favor of it, after he spoke to Fondaras and his children. But he’s agreed to it. We can leave in a few days, after I’ve gathered my supplies and he prepares for his absence.”
“I really hope this works,” I said, earnestly.
“I know my business,” she shrugged. “As long as I’ve got basic equipment, I should be able to handle it. If I could get him back to the Wilderlands then I could improve things further, with magic. But I can help him,” she predicted.
Later that afternoon, Gareth and Nattia sought me out in the Great Hall of the castle, where they presented me with their scholarly findings. We sat at a trestle table near the door – the light was poor, but then the weather had turned by then and a light drizzle was falling and spread out their notes in front of me. I missed magelights.
“This place is fascinating,” Gareth began, unrolling a large sheet of parchment. “And they kept astonishingly good records, for Wilderlords. I fault the Kasari influence,” he said, nodding to Nattia with a smile. “A surprising number of the folk of Anferny have taken at least the elementary Kasari rites, and a good number of those have taken the advanced, as well – which includes constructing their own Book of the Hand. And learning how to observe and take notes. As a result,” he said, pointing at the scroll, “they made really good maps and explained a great number of things in their chronicles.”
“Anything useful?” I inquired.
“Quite a bit,” Nattia nodded, peering at the map. “Here are the areas we’ve gone through already: the Kasari lands, the geophysical installation at the Cave of the Ancients, Midmarket, and now Anferny. We’ll go from here to Lakeshire, and thence to Grost Kilnuskum. Beyond that is the Plain of Pillars, just west of Chimney Mountain.”
“That’s when things get very interesting,” Gareth continued, tapping the map. “Beyond the Plain of Pillars are a number of regions they’ve identified and explored over the years. Of particular note is this little island on this little lake at the extreme north of the valley. That’s where the dragon lives.”
“That’s . . . that’s actually fairly close,” I said, uneasily.
“Close is a relative term,” Nattia said. “By foot, it’s still a few days through dangerous terrain. By air, I could be there in twenty minutes.”
“If this wizard Rolof has some knowledge of the dragon, that means he’s probably close by there,” Gareth reasoned. “I’m hoping we’ll hear more word of him in Lakeshire or Grost Kilnuskum to narrow it down. But the lake provides a kind of northern center-point,” he demonstrated. “To the east of it is a lobe of the valley that is even more desolate than the Plain of Pillars. Some of it is as uninhabitable as the wastes, due to its proximity to Chimney Mountain.
“To the west of the lake,” he continued, “is another lobe of the valley known, imaginatively, as The Lost Vale. In the records it is among the wildest of lands. Strange beasts and tribes of lizard men and . . . well, all sorts of things live there. There are some ancient ruins there, as well, so that might bear investigation. But it is considered the place where the strangest creatures kept their lairs. And this is coming from the folk of Anferny. Did you know that they herd a particular kind of insect, up here?” he asked, suddenly changing the subject. “I saw a flock – herd – a hive of them, being herded along by a maid with a stick. She acted like I was an idiot when I expressed some surprised.”
“You squealed like a maiden, Gareth,” teased Nattia.
“I was surprised,” Gareth insisted, with dignity. “And a bit disgusted. In any case, there are far, far stranger things in the place known as the Lost Vale. But it’s not the worst place, according to the archives. Dangerous, certainly, but not the worst. That would be reserved for this region in the southwest, just on the other side of the central ridge and named, just as imaginatively, The Cursed Vale. Even the lizard people avoid it. Men go mad, sometimes, when they travel there. If they return at all.”
“Why is that?” I asked, mystified.
Gareth shrugged. “Who knows? It’s cursed. Of course, you can’t really have curses in a place devoid of magic, but something lives there that is hazardous to mind and body. Of the few accounts we read, there is a powerful force deep within the vale, and a few creatures of particularly unusual description who either guard it or just like lingering around, devouring helpless travelers.”
“That sounds like the Lost Races that Lilastien was telling me about,” I nodded, as I puffed on my pipe. “Remnants of species that the Vundel have invited here in eons past, and who cling to hidden places like this.”
“That would explain their odd nature, then,” agreed Gareth. “The archives insist the place is to be avoided at all costs. In local legend, it’s a place only the bravest men dare to go, and the wisest men avoid.”
“What about the central area?” I asked, studying the map as best I could.
“That’s . . . a forest,” Nattia said, cautiously. “It is forbidden to go there.”
“A Forbidden Forest?” I asked. “That sounds like a cliché.”
“It’s actually not called that, it’s called the Leshwood,” explained Gareth. “But it is forbidden – that law was laid down by the very first Lord of Anferny. And it was religiously enforced. But there are few details about why. Apparently, there is a force in that wood that likes its privacy, and the Lords of Anferny have, whether through wisdom or through negotiation, agreed not to venture there.”
“So we have a vale of desolation, one of the wild and lost, and one of the cursed which causes madness,” I nodded.
“Plenty of places to hide,” Gareth agreed. “We have our work cut out for us, Minalan. But I think our best effort would be spent finding Rolof. He would likely know much of what we seek if we can convince him to cooperate with us to find it.”
“Agreed,” I murmured. “If nothing else, perhaps he can introduce us to the dragon,” I joked. “Where do you think it likely lives?”
“It could be anywhere, but I would suggest we search the perimeter of the northern lake,” suggested Gareth, running his finger around the representation on the map. “Unlike the Hot Lake, it is cool freshwater, and there is good hunting along its shores. That’s where Kanset saw the Alka Alon maiden a few years back. But he could also be along this ridge to the east, near the Vale of the Lost in the west, or maybe even along the skirts of the Leshwood.”
“Or he could be living out an ascetic life in some cave in the desolation,” Nattia suggested. “Or even along the ridges, braving the tundra like a hermit.”
“I don’t recall Rolof admiring the ascetics we saw in Farise, but then I didn’t know him that well. Let’s start with the dragon’s lake,” I suggested. “We’ll get to the more desolate areas, later, if we don’t find him. Or get more specific information from the Tal or the Kilnusk.”
“Of course, he could have been eaten by a lizard man,” Gareth pointed out. “No one in Anferny or Midmarket has seen him for a while. And the lizard men are known to eat human flesh. As are dragons.”
“We shall see,” I sighed. “But excellent work, you two.”
“Nattia did most of the note-taking, while I read,” Gareth boasted. “She has a hand as neat as a professional scribe.”
“Gareth did the maps,” she insisted. “He’s much better at that sort of thing than I am.”
“If you don’t mind me asking, how are things going with Travid?” I inquired, innocently.
The two looked at each other, a bit guiltily, then Nattia looked down.
“He’s . . . proving difficult to convince that I am a worthy husband for his sister,” Gareth sighed. “I’ve done everything in my power to be nice to him and impress him, and nothing convinces him!”
I chuckled. “Take it from a man with five sisters, nothing will convince him but time. My brothers-in-law were mostly lucky. I was away at the Academy when they courted my sisters. By the time I met some of them, they were well beyond my scrutiny and safely wed. But it still took a few years for them to prove themselves with me.”
“And that’s supposed to be helpful?” asked Gareth, exasperated. “Travid is worse than Tyndal, sometimes. He finds fault with everything I say or do. The one thing I’m best at doesn’t work, here. So far, he’s given me credit for my ability to read and the fact that I don’t quite fall off a horse when I ride. Beyond that, I’m as suitable for his sister as . . . as a lizard man!”
“It’s not supposed to be helpful, but as Fondaras says, sometimes wisdom means just having to endure the best you can. The Kasari, as a people, value honor and competence,” I reminded him. “But they also appreciate trying your best. You’ll win Travid over, eventually, because you’ll prove to him your feelings for his sister. And its Nattia’s choice to court you. Not his. He’ll have to get used to that. If you go through with the rites.”
“The bloody rites!” groaned Gareth, slumping over in his chair.
Nattia giggled. “They really aren’t that bad, Gareth,” she soothed. “Mostly a lot of singing, stories, lore, special skills, and long, long discussions of wholesome family life and your duties as a husband. They even tell you a bit about all the . . . the Ishi stuff,” she reminded him, quietly.
“That is another discipline to which I do not excel,” Gareth said, through gritted teeth. “Tyndal and Rondal tried for years and . . . I’m hopeless.”
“I don’t think you’re hopeless or we wouldn’t be discussing this. You can’t really fail,” she insisted. “Not unless you’re really, really hopeless. The worst-case is that the council assigns you to marry some fat, frumpy, lazy little maiden with a face like mud pie and a disposition like a wild boar. I’ll still end up with a good husband,” she teased. “It just might not be you.”
“You are really not helping matters,” he groaned.
“It will be fine, lad,” I assured. “I wouldn’t worry too much about it. Focus on the quest at hand, and let the rest take care of itself. If you get eaten by a lizard man, for instance, then you have spent that worry on nothing.”
On the sixth day of our stay, on the eve of our departure, Lord Kanlan had another feast prepared – albeit not as lavish as the first. It was also the eve of his departure, as Lilastien would be taking him back to the Cave of the Ancients for his procedure. Ithalia would be accompanying them, as well as Kanset and a few knights and servants.
Tyndal and his men were on a different mission: they would be scouring the countryside for any sight of the gurvani who had pursued us. We’d received no word of their location, and that disturbed us. Even without magic, a company of maragorku gurvani could cause considerable problems for Anferny and the other settlements of Anghysbel. He took a few Kasari with him, including Travid, and then learned that Lady Tandine was insisting on going with him.
She was, after all, the heir to the domain, should her father pass. She felt a decided duty to hunt down any troublemakers on its frontiers.
As for the rest of us, we were headed to Lakeshire on the morrow. The Tal Alon settlement was relatively nearby, and by all accounts worth the trip. It would be a shame to not see it – and see if the Lakeshire Tal had any news of the things we sought.
We were deep in conversation about our various duties when, quite unexpectedly, the entire room began to shake menacingly. Alya squealed in alarm, her eyes wide, as did a few others. But it subsided, a moment later, and most of the room returned to normal as if it had never happened.
“What in six hells was that?” Gareth asked, his eyes bulging.
“An earthquake,” Fondaras supplied. “But just a small one. They happen frequently in Anghysbel. That is why there are few spires in town, and the castle is built as squat and sturdy as it is,” he revealed. “A large one can level buildings and kill everyone inside.”
“That’s terrifying!” Gareth insisted.
“Only the first few times you experience it,” I countered. “I endured a few such small earthquakes on the Farisian peninsula, in the march south. They’re disconcerting, but usually harmless.”
Then something occurred to the mage. He snapped his fingers. “That’s it!” he said. “When I was reading the chronicles, I kept coming across references to tremors, but I didn’t understand what they were speaking of. But there have been four Great Tremors since the founding of the domain. Earthquakes strong enough to destroy the entire town, or a great deal of it,” he explained. “They just spoke as if it was some great beast, and not a natural phenomenon.”
“Does it matter?” Alya asked. “Both are just as terrifying.”
“Perhaps not, but it explains a few passages I was having difficulty with. How can people live in a place where the earth dances under your feet? Without warning?”
“You get used to it,” supplied Lady Tandine, who approached us with her brother in tow. “There might be a few more, in the next day or so. They’re much worse when they happen in winter. They can cause massive avalanches. Thankfully, the heat of our ground keeps much snow from accumulating above the town. That only happens every few years.”
“I, for one, agree with Lord Gareth’s assessment,” Lord Kanset chuckled. “I hate the things, though I’ve endured my share. They can disrupt the estates horribly, and even cause fires to break out. They terrify the animals. Pesky things, earthquakes. But usually uneventful.”
“Says the man who has an active volcano on his horizon,” Gareth snorted.
“Chimney Mountain smokes, but there hasn’t been an eruption i
n years,” assured Tandine. “Hence the name. It’s actually quite pretty when you get up close. Just don’t get too close,” she cautioned. “The prevailing winds push most of the soot and poisonous gasses into the tundra – we call it the Sludge Lands. That’s not a healthy place.”
“It sounds revolting,” agreed Gareth.
“That’s why we call it the Sludge Lands,” she agreed.
The earthquake was a novel experience, and Alya clung to me extra tightly that night in the hall we’d graciously been loaned for our use.
The next morning, after taking our leave of our gracious hosts and wishing Lord Kanlan luck on his surgery, we took two of our wagons – Ormar’s and my own – as well as some packhorses on our journey to Lakeshire. Taren rode alongside us, spear in hand and plasma pistol on his hip. But there was little evidence of danger. The route was well-traveled and scenic; first we passed through idyllic-looking farms with wheat, barley and maize leaping up from the ground, and then we came to a wood that seemed to serve as a boundary between the two provinces.
The entire journey kept the beautiful sight of Lake Baelor on our left. The water was a deep blue in the summer light, and there were several little boats bobbing along the shore. A few even sported sails. It was hard to believe that there was a bunch of terrifying creatures lurking in its depths.
“This is a pretty place,” Alya admitted, as the wagon rolled on. Fondaras and Gareth were riding next to us on the wide road. “Despite the monsters and the danger and the earthquakes.”
“And the lack of magic,” I agreed. “The people are nice, so far, and the scenery is beautiful. But it would be nice to have magic.”
“I’m just wondering why the Anferny folk settled here in the first place?” she mused. “There are far easier places to hold than this crazy place.”
“I think you will find that humanity will find a reason to live wherever they can,” Fondaras said, thoughtfully as he rode nearby. “And leave a place for no particular reason if they have a fancy. Sometimes I think that Anferny exists just to prove that man can live in such conditions.”
Footwizard Page 24