by M. L. Forman
“Whalen made a simple plan because he knew it would change,” his own voice said, almost laughing as it spoke. “Just because you couldn’t see that things would change doesn’t mean that Whalen couldn’t.”
Alex’s sleep was filled with strange dreams that he couldn’t see clearly, and when he woke, the images and memories slipped away from him. Awake, his mind was instantly filled with questions that he couldn’t answer. How big was Jabez’s army? How many hostages did he have in his dungeons? Where was the Axe of Sundering hidden? If Jabez had made a dragon a slave, what other creatures might he have under his control? He had seen those wolf creatures in Midland. How many of them did Jabez have, and how would he use them here in Westland?
There was so much to do, too much that was unknown, and no time to waste.
Finally, in the hours before sunrise, Alex fell into a light sleep. His mind slipped into a dream that was so real that he wasn’t sure that he was dreaming. He stood on the shore of a vast underground lake, but it wasn’t pitch-dark as it should have been. The rocks in the cave seemed to glow with a pale green light, making the water look inky black.
Something in his dream pulled him toward the water, but he resisted. He could see his breath puff like clouds from his mouth, and he was certain that the water of the lake would be deadly cold. This was not a lake for swimming—not if you wanted to stay alive. His dream still pulled at him, forcing him to step to the edge of the water.
His hand reached out and touched the still water. Pain shot up his arm and he jerked back, but his dream dragged him forward. Fighting with all his strength, Alex clawed at the rocky beach, trying to crawl away from the lake, but nothing he did seemed to work. He was being dragged into the cold, cold water. He was sure he would die.
He heard a splash as his body fell into the water, and with a gasp, Alex woke up. He had fallen out of his bed, his legs tangled in his blankets. He looked around wildly, but he was in his bedroom, and everything was dry. Pulling his legs free of the blanket, Alex stood up and looked down at his right hand. It was dry just like everything else, but the icy cold pain lingered. He stretched his fingers to work some blood into them, and at the back of his mind his O’Gash whispered to him.
“The lake is the key. That is where you will find what you seek. But will you pay the price to claim it?”
Alex sat on the edge of his bed, rubbing warmth and life back into his hand. He trusted his O’Gash, but he didn’t like what it told him. The icy cold lake scared him, and he had no idea what price he would have to pay if he ever found his way there.
Unwilling to risk another nightmare, Alex got dressed. He made his way to the large sitting room that he shared with Whalen and piled logs in the cold fireplace. With a wave of his hand, he ignited the logs. He sat down close to the fire, holding his still-cold right hand out to the heat.
I slept on my arm, Alex told himself. It’s just gone numb, that’s why it’s cold.
He knew that wasn’t true—somehow it was his nightmare that had caused his arm to ache with cold, but in the predawn darkness the thought made him feel better. He flexed his fingers, and even though he didn’t want to, he thought about the lake in his dream.
An underground lake that was deadly cold would be a good place to hide the Axe of Sundering. Nobody would willingly go into such a lake, so the Axe wouldn’t be found by accident. If Jabez hid the Axe there, however, he must have some way of recovering it. If Jabez was forced to leave Conmar Castle, he certainly wouldn’t leave the Axe behind. Could he hide it at the bottom of a lake without having a way to get it if he needed it? He wouldn’t dare leave any clue to where the Axe was, so how?
Alex thought for a long time, but he didn’t find any answers. It was possible that Jabez had some servant or slave who could go into the lake and get the Axe for him. But, no, that didn’t seem likely. Anyone holding the Axe was a threat to Jabez; the dark wizard wouldn’t trust anyone with it. So, if not a slave, then who? Or, maybe . . . what?
About two hours later, Whalen came into the room. He looked stern, as if he’d already spent a great deal of time thinking about things he didn’t like. When he saw Alex, the look on his face changed to concern.
“Trouble sleeping?” Whalen asked, putting more wood on the fire.
“Too many thoughts and dreams,” Alex replied. “Though nothing that won’t find its own answer, in time.”
“I imagine we’ll get some answers today, though I can’t guess what those answers might be,” Whalen said. “Still, no sense worrying about it until we know how things stand.”
Alex nodded, and remained silent.
Whalen went to the table and took several papers and scrolls out of his magic bag. He shuffled through them, occasionally muttering to himself.
An hour later, servants appeared, bringing Alex and Whalen breakfast. Whalen moved his papers to a chair, and the table was quickly filled with all kinds of food. The servant, while polite, said very little. Alex got up from his chair beside the fire and joined Whalen at the table.
“Are you finished thinking yet?” Whalen asked as he filled his own plate.
“Thinking and yet not thinking at all,” Alex answered. “My mind is too full and completely empty at the same time.”
“Well, let it be empty for now. I suspect it will be full again before this day is done.”
“Do you think anything will be decided on today? Matters of war can often take a lot of time and even more discussion before anything is decided.”
“True, but I think the decisions, or most of them, are already made. Darthon and his people will go to war, I’m sure of that. As to where they go to war—well, I hope that decision has not yet been made.”
“Why?”
“The attack against Darthon came from Conmar. Some, maybe even most, of Darthon’s lords will want revenge for that. Conmar also holds the hostages—including Joshua—and Darthon will want to free them, if he can. We will need to guide him away from anything so foolish as an assault on Conmar Castle.”
“Would it be foolish? Maybe a direct assault would be best.”
“Without knowing the size of Jabez’s army, I don’t think going straight to Conmar is a good plan. Apart from his army, Jabez is a wizard—a dark wizard, yes, but he still has a great deal of power and who knows how many magical friends as well.”
“Without more information, we can hardly move at all,” Alex said with a sigh.
“Oh, we can move,” Whalen said, biting into a sausage. “We just want to make sure our first move is not also our last.”
Alex let the conversation drop and concentrated on his breakfast. Whalen was right—of course they could move. Jabez probably expected them to move, but maybe not so soon. If he still believed that Darthon was trapped in the dragon’s spell, then he wouldn’t expect the southern kingdom to move until Darthon was dead and a new king appointed, which could take a long time, depending on if Darthon had any heirs. If they moved when Jabez didn’t expect them to, they might be able to surprise the army of Conmar.
As Alex was pushing away his plate, a knock came at the door. Whalen, who had finished his breakfast and was back to studying his papers, got up and answered it. A group of seven soldiers stood outside. Six of the soldiers stood against the wall, three to either side, and the seventh in front of the door.
“Masters,” the soldier in front began, “Lord Darthon calls you to his council, if you will please come with us.”
“As Lord Darthon wishes,” Whalen answered, picking up his staff and turning slightly toward Alex.
Alex understood what Whalen meant. Today, they were not simply guests, but wizards, and they would carry their staffs to show who and what they were. Alex quickly went to his room and retrieved his staff, and then he and Whalen followed the soldier. As they moved through the door, two of the soldiers turned to follow directly behind their guide. The remaining four men waited for Alex and Whalen to pass by, and then they turned and followed behind them.
�
��Ceremony,” Whalen said quietly to Alex.
Alex didn’t reply. Ceremony was an important part of a peaceful kingdom, and as this was Darthon’s kingdom, he made the rules. They followed their guide through the palace, finally stopping outside a pair of massive wood and metal doors. Many people were crowded in front of the doors, but they moved aside for the men leading Alex and Whalen.
To Alex’s surprise, they did not enter a hall or meeting room, but walked into the open air of a garden. Darthon sat in a massive stone chair, backed by several soldiers and flanked by Timold on his right, and a man Alex didn’t recognize on his left. There were two empty seats to the right of Timold, obviously meant for Whalen and himself.
The remaining space was taken up with chairs set up in a half-circle, facing Darthon. Important-looking men, clearly Darthon’s lords, occupied most of the chairs. Standing behind the lords were about twenty men dressed like travelers, all wearing weapons.
Alex also saw a small group of twelve people standing off to the side. They were all hooded, and Alex knew instantly they were sea elves.
He also saw eight dwarves in full battle armor. Two of the dwarves had removed their helmets and were sitting down, but they all looked more than a little grumpy.
“I didn’t know there were dwarves in Jarro,” Alex whispered to Whalen.
“Not many that I know of. They live in the far north,” Whalen whispered back.
Darthon rose from his stone chair. “Ah, my friends, now that we are all here, we may begin.”
“’Bout time too,” one of the dwarves grumbled, none too quietly.
“We all know the reason for this meeting,” Darthon went on as if he hadn’t heard. “The question is not if we should go to war against Conmar. The question is where do we make our stand. And when .”
“My lord,” Timold said, rising to his feet. “Our armies have been preparing for some time. We are ready to face the battle whenever and wherever you command.”
“My lord.” The man to Darthon’s left also rose to his feet. “May I speak?”
“Yes, Lord Belford. What course do you suggest?” Darthon asked.
“We should take the battle to Conmar,” Lord Belford answered. “Conmar has assaulted you directly, and such an attack must be answered. Conmar is also where our hostages are being held, and we must attempt to rescue them, if we can.”
“The mountain passes will be hard, if not impossible, to cross this time of year,” Timold answered. “Our armies in the east could march to Conmar easily, but they are too few in number, and we have no way to supply them.”
“The way over the mountains may be closed, but the roads to the north are open,” one of the travelers said, standing up. “Both the middle and northern kingdoms are under attack, and they call for your aid. You know that for nearly a year there has been trouble in the northern kingdom, and even more trouble in the kingdom of the dwarves. What you may not know, Lord Darthon, is that a great army from Conmar crossed the mountains before the snows came to attack the middle kingdom as well. Already they have destroyed much, and your allies in the north need your help to drive them off.”
“Not just crossed the mountains,” the oldest looking dwarf there said. “Conmar has worse evil working for it than you think. My people are holding off a horde of goblins in the far north. I’ve no doubt that the foul creatures have tunneled under the mountains and are bringing supplies to the armies of Conmar in the west.”
“Have calls for aid been sent to Midland?” Darthon asked.
“Some, but we’ve no way to know if they arrived,” Timold answered. “Even if they have arrived, it will be two or perhaps three months before ships can sail from Midland.”
“A fact well known by Conmar,” Lord Belford said.
“Karill, do you have any advice? What do your elders say? Will your people come to our aid in this time of need?” Darthon asked, looking at the sea elves.
“We have had little to do with the affairs of men for many years,” the tallest elf answered. “A direct assault on Conmar seems impossible, but most or even all the army of Conmar is already on the western side of the mountains. It would be foolish to let them remain here, and worse than foolish to let them return to the east.”
“Aye, and what will the sea elves do to stop them?” the old dwarf asked. “Will your people come on land and fight, or will you sail away and leave the poor mortals to their fate?”
Alex noted the dwarf’s half-hopeful, half-angry tone. Dwarves were not always friendly with elves, and the old dwarf’s words were a kind of challenge. At a different time, they might have led to a fight on the spot. But the sea elves, it seemed, were not so easily angered as other elves that Alex knew.
“Lord Grimgold, we know well your feelings toward our people,” Karill answered slowly. “We cannot blame you for what you feel, but you do not know our history. At this time, I cannot say if my people will come in force. The elders of my people are debating the matter even now, though I think that some will come to your aid no matter what the elders say.”
“Debate,” the dwarf scoffed, shaking his head. “If they talk long enough, this war will be over and there’ll be nothing for your people to do but look at the bones.”
“Enough,” Darthon said sharply. “We have heard from most, but not from all. Master Vankin, Master Taylor. It is said that wizards have wisdom that other men lack. What advice do you offer, now that you see how things stand?”
“A difficult question to be sure,” Whalen said, getting to his feet. “Our original quest in coming here was to deal with the man you know as the lord of Conmar. We know him as Jabez. For Master Taylor and I, stopping him must remain our primary goal. We did not expect war to begin so soon, and it appears that our plans must change to meet the current situation. The kingdoms to the north need aid; the armies of Conmar must not be allowed to destroy them. For myself, I think that my path lies north.”
“If you go north and reveal yourself to Jabez, he will send everything he can to destroy you,” Alex said quickly. “The kingdoms to the north need aid, yes, but Jabez must be dealt with. So long as he remains in command of his armies, there is no hope for a lasting victory. With Jabez destroyed, his armies will become less of a threat. We must also consider the hostages that Jabez holds. We cannot abandon them to death, or worse.”
“You are right,” Whalen replied with a slight smile. “Yet to win this fight we must take risks, we must all do what we can. It is a risk, but what I can do is go north. I would advise you, Lord Darthon, to send your armies there as well. We will face the armies of Conmar together, even if our victories will be short-lived. We cannot win a complete victory while Jabez remains unchecked, but we can hold off his armies, at least for a time.”
“Then we will go north,” Alex said.
“Oh no, my young friend,” Whalen said. “You must continue to Conmar Castle, that is your risk. If we can distract Jabez with our battle to the north, then it will be easier for you to find the Axe of Sundering and stop Jabez once and for all.”
“Alone?” Alex asked. He trusted Whalen, but he wasn’t sure this was the best plan. It was a terrible risk, but what other plan was there? Jabez had to be stopped. His armies had to be stopped. Perhaps splitting up was the only way to accomplish both things and have any hope of victory.
“Distraction and deception are fine plans,” Grimgold said. “But Jabez is also a wizard. He will know where you are, Master Vankin, and he will surely detect young Master Taylor long before he approaches Conmar Castle.”
“No, he won’t,” said Whalen. “We are hidden from him, at least for the time being. Jabez knows that I am in Jarro, but he does not know exactly where I am. He will only be able to find me when I set my magic loose against his army.”
“And Master Taylor?” Timold asked.
“I am unknown to Jabez,” Alex said. “He does not know I am in this land, and he will not know who or what I am until I reveal myself to him.”
“You are c
ertain of this?” Darthon asked.
“Ask Karill,” said Alex. “Elves are better at seeing magic than either men or dwarves. Tell them, Karill, what do you see when you look at Whalen and myself?”
“I see two men, and no magic at all,” Karill answered slowly. “I have some doubt that a wizard would see as I do, but he might. I would not have believed that magic could be so completely hidden, but it seems to be so.”
“Very well,” Darthon said after a pause. “I will think on all that has been said. We will meet again after the midday meal. I will announce my decision then.”
Everyone stood as Darthon left the open area. Alex watched him go, and then turned his attention to those that remained. Grimgold and the other dwarves stood in a group, speaking quietly. The men from Darthon’s kingdom broke into small groups, mixing with the men from the kingdoms of the north. Most of the sea elves had left, but Karill remained standing in the shade of a tree, watching Alex and Whalen.
“That went as well as could be expected,” Whalen said.
“Do you think Darthon will go north?” Alex asked.
“He doesn’t really have much choice,” Whalen answered. “With the passes over the mountains closed, he must either go north or do nothing until spring comes. And he does not seem like a man who likes to do nothing but wait.”
“With the passes closed, I may have a hard time getting to Conmar myself,” Alex said.
“I doubt that.” Whalen chuckled. “You can use your magic practically right in front of me and I can’t see it. I feel sure that you can use whatever magic you need to in order to get to Conmar, and Jabez won’t be aware of it.”
“For myself, yes, I can work any magic that is needed,” Alex said. “I have a feeling, however, that I won’t be going to Conmar alone.”
“Why is that?” Whalen asked.
“Because once I reach Conmar, I will be trying to rescue any hostages that are there,” Alex answered. “If they are still alive, I doubt they will be in any condition to run away on their own. Darthon will think of that, and he will want to send men with me to help with their escape.”