"There ye are. That's the direction o' the nearest o' the sister gems." Avari stopped her pacing, astonished at the simplicity of the gem's power. Even she could understand this kind of magic.
"Ye mean we can find the others jist by pointin' this one around until it's brightest, then goin' in that direction?" DoHeney grinned. "Why, that solves one o' our problems right off! All we need do is—"
"Not quite, me lad," the elder dwarf interrupted with a scowl. "While 'tis true it'll point the right direction, it'll not tell ye how far ye need ta go, nor what may obstruct yer travelin'. It could point at a mountain, and ye wouldn't know whether yer goal was round the back or straight inside. And it'll only point out the nearest of the other gems. Ye may end up travelin' half way across the continent, jist ta find that ye have ta come all the way back and go jist a bit farther in the other direction ta recover the next. And don't ferget that this Darkmist feller probably already knows where they are, and is likely goin' ta be bustin' a gut tryin' ta get 'em first. Now lemme see jist where this thing's pointin'.
"Here we are!" DoHurley exclaimed, spreading a yellowing parchment out on the table. The dwarvish characters were unintelligible, but a glance revealed an accurate rendering of the area from the mountains down to the inner sea. "Now this is where ye be." DoHurley pointed to a symbol scrawled next to a small X on the map, "Boontredk Warrens. And this here is Zellohar Keep." The original keep was denoted by a large circle to the north of the warrens. "And this here gem pointed about in this direction, to the southwest," he concluded, drawing an invisible line with his finger, across and off the map.
"But that points nowhere!" Avari snapped in frustration. All this time she had been listening, waiting for DoHurley to tell them how to use the gem to blast Zellohar into rubble, but what they seemed to be planning would only take them further from the keep and the Nekdukarr Darkmist. Her hand moved reflexively to her familiar sword hilt, forgetting that the blade now leaned against the wall, out of her reach. Her fingers flexed at its absence. "We're better off figuring out how to get back into the keep so we can kill that scum-sucking Nekdukarr!"
"Avari," Shay said condescendingly, "it would take an army to accomplish any kind of an assault on the keep, and we are better suited to—"
"What about the dwarves?" Avari blurted, her emotions now overruling what little patience she had left. "They know the secret entrances into the mountain! They could—"
"Not so fast, lass," DoHurley interrupted, calming Avari with a firm but gentle grip on her forearm. "I might agree with ye, but I have no say on the council o' elders. Even if I did fill 'em in on all ye've told me, I doubt they'd give a flyin' bat fart. And yer in no position ta try to force 'em inta doin' yer dirty work for ye."
"Our dirty work? They have just as much at stake as the rest of us if that madman is loose on the world!"
"Aye, that's maybe true, lass," the elderly dwarf continued, unabashed by Avari's bursts of emotion. "But they might not see it that way. Ye see, they've gotten pretty isolated in the years since the fall o' the keep, and figure the further they are from anyone else's business, the better. So it's more likely they'd jist seal the doors and ride out the storm."
"But how could they?" Avari asked, outraged at the implication of the dwarf's statement. "They're the ones who—"
"Were the cause o' the whole thing in the first place?" DoHurley cut in, his eye blazing for a moment with fury. "Aye, I might even agree wi' ye there, lass." He sighed deeply, rubbing his face with his hands. "No, I believe Master DoHeney was right when he estimated the chances o' gettin' help from this sorry ol' bunch o' measly excuses fer dwarves."
"So what are we to do?" Avari snapped, flailing her arms in frustration. Almost in answer the deep bonging of a bell resonated through the cavern. The note repeated several times.
"Well, that's done it," DoHurley snapped, snatching up a huge sack from the corner and thrusting it into DoHeney's hands. "Me thinks yer friends from Zellohar have caught up with ye." He snatched a heavy battle axe from the wall and headed for the door. "Unless they seal the outer cavern, we'll be up to our hips in blood afore long."
"Good!" Avari said as she recovered her weapons. "I'm tired of running anyway!" She jerked her swordbelt taut with a snap, checking her father's sword in its sheath. It was not as luxuriant a blade as Gaulengil, but it would be much easier to wield in the narrow corridors of the warrens. She had started to affix her shield straps when she noticed the others staring.
"What?" she asked, raking them with her gaze.
"We must be off, lass," DoHeney said, trying not to irritate the bristling warrioress.
"We have the gem, Avari," Shay reminded her as he placed a restraining hand on her corded forearm. "We must flee this battle so that we may—"
"Is that your solution to everything? Run away, so you don't have to deal with it? Besides, what good is one gem when that pasty-faced, demon-headed, walking corpse still has three?" Not all of the contempt in her voice was directed at the Nekdukarr.
"We are dealing with this, Avari!" Shay said, his ears flushing red at the accuracy of her taunt. His hand strayed to the haft of his hammer but he let her arm go, pointing to the door. "We are leaving! You can stay and play the martyr if you feel you must heap one more death onto your conscience."
Avari's hand shot out like a viper at the half-elf's exposed throat, but her wrist was caught in his numbing grip before her fingers could tighten. The blood was pounding in her head, and the distant scream was beginning to rise. No! she thought. I can't run away again. I won't. I won't leave anyone else to die!
"Go ahead and die if you have become so afraid of living, Avari, but do not think for a moment that it will bring either of them back." Shay's voice had softened, his eyes brimming with compassion, but his hold remained firm on Avari's wrist.
The combination of his kindness in the face of her anger and the truth in his words were too much for Avari's pent-up passions. Without her conscious thought, a dagger flashed into her hand and thrust toward Shay's face.
A gnarled hand intervened at the last moment; the blade stabbed through DoHurley's palm, stopping a scant inch before it pierced the half-elf's eye. Avari stared at the blood pouring from the wound, felt it warm on her hand. Gasping in horror, she released the slick hilt and stepped back.
"STOP IT!!" Lynthalsea screamed. The elf stepped in front of Avari, setting her feet as if they were rooted to the very core of the earth. "How could you?" she choked, her rage pushing the tall woman back another step. "These are your friends!"
Tears welled in Avari's eyes and ran down her cheeks with the horror of what she had almost done. To Shay! Shay, who had helped her so much, who was only trying to help her now. "I'm sorry... I..." Her gaze went from the elf to Shay, then sank to rest on the blood on her hand.
"No need, lass." DoHurley croaked, handing over her already-cleaned dagger with a bandaged hand, his grizzled smile unaffected by the incident. "Ye may have need o' this afore the night's through. I suggest ye be a mite more careful where ye put it from now on."
Avari sniffed and shuddered, taking the blade with a trembling hand. She was surprised when DoHurley took her hand in both of his.
"Don't you be thinkin' that we can't do without ye here, lass. Yer task is jist as important as defendin' these warrens, maybe more so. Besides," he continued with a wily grin, "this bunch o' old dwarf farts ain't all that bad; they have a few tricks left!
"Now, off with ye!" the grizzled old warrior ordered as he turned back to the business at hand. "DoHeney, take 'em down the southwest tunnel, and be quick. From the sound o' things we're gonna be a mite busy in a minute or two." He slapped his kinsman on the shoulder and sent them on their way, Avari still hanging her head low. They followed DoHeney's dim form for a few steps, then heard the elder dwarf's curses from behind them.
"By the Maker's warty nose, I must be goin' senile! I fergot ta tell ye the most important thing!" He grasped Shay's sleeve and pulled him down to eye lev
el. "Never let anyone touch any two o' the gems at the same time. I haven't a notion o' what'll happen if ye do this, but the legend says somethin' about tearin' open a hole or some such. Now be off, and may the Earth Mother protect ye." With that he hefted his axe and strode down the corridor, his limp in no way impeding his progress.
Their flight from Boontredk Warrens was a test of the companions' nerves and knees; careful crawls through the undergrowth and long minutes spent crouched in terrified silence were punctuated by desperate sprints across open areas. Avari's condition did not help. The incident in the warrens left her with no more vigor than a beaten cur. Her shoulders slumped and she took little notice of their surroundings. Shay and Lynthalsea had to keep prodding her into motion when speed was critical. At one point, when DoHeney led them straight into a group of goblins, Avari stood dumbly as the creatures started to raise the alarm. Only Shay's quick stunning spell prevented total disaster. Although she had nearly killed him in DoHurley's chambers, his concern for his friend was plain. But if something did not bring her around soon, she would be a greater hindrance than an asset on this journey.
In the end, Darkmist's careless troops were no match for a cautious dwarf with intimate knowledge of the area. Once the companions were clear of most of the enemy, the problem lay in regaining their bearings. For this they relied on the skills of Lynthalsea, who lead them unerringly down-slope and to the southwest, in the direction DoHurley's finger had traced on the map.
CHAPTER 34
Iveron Darkmist clenched his fists in aggravation as he stomped from one end of his study to the other, the comfortable ebony silks of his convalescence rustling like leaves at every turn. No matter how simple the task, his troops seemed utterly unable to fulfill his wishes. First they had allowed the thieving surface dwellers to escape, and now he had received word that they had been badly defeated at the dwarven warrens, half of the assault force crushed in a cave-in. Iveron sighed; these troops simply were not of the same quality he had had so many years ago. There had been considerable inbreeding among the shorter-lived species during their imprisonment, and most were not particularly intelligent in the first place, but their recent bungling was trying his patience. He focused his attention on the map laid out on the table. At least the raiding of the farms near Beriknor was going well; several patrols had returned laden with provisions. An errant draft caught the corner of the parchment map and he slapped it flat in irritation, then stopped.
There should be no drafts this deep in the keep. He glanced around the room, straining to identify the anonymous hum that rose above the dry rustling of the unfettered papers. Slowly, the sourceless zephyr swirled into a vortex in the center of the room, scattering parchment in a whirling shower, then coalescing into two familiar figures.
"Sisters!" he exclaimed, genuinely pleased at their rather tempestuous arrival. They stood before him, a palpable link to the splendors of Xerro Kensho and all the glories he had known there. Granted they were domineering, overbearing, narrow-minded and difficult, but they were Clan Darkmist. His blood flowed through their veins, his glories would be their glories, as they had in the past.
"So good of you to answer my invitation," he continued, sweeping his arms wide in a graceful bow. "At last, the powers of Clan Darkmist are reunited again after all these years."
"Well met, brother. I must say you're looking quite well, all things considered." Lysethra's smile appeared to be every bit as genuine as his own, which sounded a warning in his mind.
Calmarel merely sneered, unaccustomed to putting up false fronts. "Quaint little place you've got here, Ivy." She strode past Iveron as if he were a stick of furniture, glancing about the sparse chamber. "A bit stuffy though, isn't it? Don't you ever feel closed in?"
An unconscious twitch tugged at Iveron's smile, thankfully hidden behind the demon helm's visor.
"You simply cannot believe our surprise when we received your note, Iveron," Lysethra said, regaining her brother's attention as Calmarel wandered around the chamber. "We were quite beside ourselves with the implications of your survival. By all accounts you were lost forever. Why, some of the servants positively keeled over at the news."
Iveron, intent on Lysethra, never saw the small, dark object that dropped from Calmarel's robes and skittered into the shadows, its ruby eyes gleaming in the dim light.
"What of the council?" he blurted. "Did you explain my requests to them?"
"Several new developments have arisen during your enforced absence," Lysethra explained. "The council is currently very busy, and we thought it best to postpone presenting your plans to them until we had a chance to talk to you in person."
"I see," he said. It was frustrating, but his sisters' knowledge of the convoluted ways of the council had always impressed him. He nodded in reluctant understanding, but was brought up short as Calmarel's sarcastic voice cut the air.
"You see, Ivy, your little war is almost a century out of date." Calmarel sat on the table and propped her feet up on his chair. "Xerro Kensho has been at peace with the surface world for eighty-seven years; anything that threatens that peace now may interfere with their plans."
Anger gripped Iveron, but his outburst froze in his throat as he caught the warning glance that Lysethra burned into Calmarel's unrepentant eyes. Something is amiss here. He took a deep breath and made a decision.
"Very well, I will go to the council and present my plans personally. When they realize what is to be gained by this venture, they will approve the aid I requested. Now, if you will excuse me, I will have my servants show you to quarters where you can rest; you must be weary after your trip." He moved to the door and called for an escort, but was forestalled by Lysethra once again.
"Let us not be so hasty, Iveron." The affability in her voice immediately put Iveron on guard. "It is clear that you are needed here if you are to maintain order, and the council is much more likely to listen to us with a sympathetic ear." She glanced once again at her sister.
"We will take your plans to the council," Calmarel cut in, impatient with her sister's hedging. "But they will expect profit for all of Xerro Kensho, not just Clan Darkmist."
"Rest assured, sisters," Iveron said, staring evenly at his siblings, "if all goes as I plan, there will be riches and power enough for all."
He ushered them out of his study and into the care of an armed escort, with instructions that they be given a chance to rest and eat. When his chamber door closed, he sat for a moment in contemplation. There was clearly more to his sisters' motives than they had told him, but whether they hoped to gain influence with the council by opposing him, or intended to ride the coattails of his conquest as they had in the past, was a matter that would require much thought. But right now, he had other things to do.
Iveron snatched up his cloak, whipping it around his wiry frame as he strode toward the door. He would check to see if his priests had made any progress interrogating their subject. They had had no problem contacting the spirit of the dead thief, but lacked the skill to extract much more than curses and insults. Perhaps his sisters could be of some help in that department, since they appeared to be so suddenly eager to aid him. His pale eyes missed the small spider that leapt from the shadows to cling to the folds of his robes. The scarlet eyes of the little animated trinket sparkled briefly before it scurried into one of the garment's silken pockets.
The ice on the rutted road cracked with DoHeney's weight, the clammy touch of the underlying mud sucking at the soles of his worn boots as if it sensed the warm life inside.
That'll teach me to always be ready to scoot, he thought. Their hasty departure had prevented him from retrieving his good traveling boots. To add to his misery, his toes were numb, he had twisted an ankle in an ice-covered hole, gashed his hand on a sharp mud-cicle, and now was beginning to get a blister on his left heel. At least the fight at the warrens would'a been inside a nice, cozy mountain. He slogged on, glancing at his friends trudging along beside him.
His eyes softene
d as he noticed Avari; her broad back, usually so strong and straight, was bent with the burden of her self-imposed guilt. Her eyes, once so vibrant with life, were now dull and downcast, refusing to meet anyone's gaze. At this point he thought her soul might look a lot like the road they had been traveling: ravaged, rutted, twisted in torment, then frozen, hurting any who dared tread on it.
The dwarf reached into his satchel with his good hand, grumbling at Shay's pragmatic conservation of his healing spells. His numb fingers fumbled, but eventually found one of the maps that DoHurley had had the foresight to supply them with. This was their fourth day from the warrens and the snows were barely a crust over the fallow fields of the outlying farms.
"Aye, here we are," he said, pointing a stubby finger at the forked river that emptied into the great inland sea. There were two small x's accompanied by dwarvish symbols. "Twin Towns. That'll be where we finally spend a night in a warm bed. That is, if we hustle right along today. This road is bad enough durin' the light, I don't relish the thought o' tryin' ta traverse it at night."
"I agree," said Shay. "Anything would be better than another night spent in this cold."
Several hours later, when they mounted the hummock that overlooked their destination, Shay wished that he could eat his hasty words. And despite his freezing toes, DoHeney suggested they might want to take their chances on the road.
Twin Towns had originally been built on the slopes of opposing hills, but now their dilapidated buildings slumped down to meet in a huge open marketplace that strangled the small river transecting the narrow valley. Details were difficult to discern due to a thick pall of smoke that enveloped the lowlands. Shay's keen eyes could barely make out row upon row of fat barges that clogged the waterway, waiting to be taken to the few ships anchored in the deeper waters of the bay.
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