Samara nodded. “Aye. They are very easy to track. Humans have always wondered why they do not make great hunters. That’s why.”
“Will there be dragons around the lake we’re going to?” Lukas asked hopefully.
“I cannot say,” Samara’s gentle voice answered. “Dragons live wherever they choose. What I will say is that a dragon will not choose to live in an area that has little game. There must be a plentiful supply of food or else the dragon would starve.”
Lukas nodded. It made sense.
“If you do encounter one around these parts, be cautious. A dragon is highly territorial. If it feels threatened, it will eliminate the threat.”
“How will I know if a dragon lives nearby?”
“Look for blackened trees, or dark scorches in the earth. Those are indicators a dragon is near.”
Just when Lukas had thought his clothes had completely dried out from his first encounter with the cloud bank, Samara dipped his wings and banked sharply to their right, angling them towards the heart of another enormous cloud. Lukas realized with a start that he was about to be soaked again. The underling craned his head and held his breath. Great pillows of feathery mist towered thousands of feet above his head. Were they about to go through that? Lukas glanced up at the ivory dragon’s enormous body and saw that Samara’s wings had leveled off but were now partially folded against its back, causing them to tip downward and increase their speed. They were going to miss the large cloud after all. Barely. It was a shame dragon riding was forbidden as the views from the dragon’s back would be much better than from beneath its belly.
Catching sight of the ground layer of clouds rushing up at them, Lukas’ eyes widened. The downy white clouds were now racing towards them so fast that there was no time to brace for impact. Lukas gasped with shock as they blasted through the thick layer of clouds as though they had been shot out a cannon. There, many hundreds of feet below them, Lukas finally caught sight of the ground once more.
The forest was gone. The trees, visible as a rapidly fading green line far behind them, had been replaced by open prairie, dotted with scraggly bushes and gentle rolling hills. A large, flat river bisected the land and stretched away to the east.
Samara’s wings picked up the pace and began to beat faster as the dragon slowed their descent. Up ahead, or rather farther down, Lukas could see Rhamalli glide in and touch down next to the river. The black dragon followed suit moments later.
Puzzled, Lukas looked around the surrounding area. Where was the human village? Weren’t the dragons supposed to be dropping them off there?
“Something the matter?” Samara inquired as he spiraled lower and lower. The ground was only a few hundred feet away now.
“Where’s Donlari?”
“About a league to the east.”
“Why didn’t you land there?”
“What do you think would have happened if the humans would have spotted ten dragons circling about overhead and then see three land in their village?”
Lukas smiled. “That would be bad.”
“Precisely.”
As Samara came in for a landing he beat his wings furiously in order to make the transition to the ground as smooth as possible. As a result, all the grass in the area was flattened by the blast of wind, appearing as though a giant had stepped on it and squished it flat.
The claw finally opened and the talons, which had held him in position for so long, finally separated. Lukas hopped down to the ground and then turned to face the dragon with a smile on his face.
“I would like to say thanks for the ride. I will never forget it.”
Samara nodded his head. “Would you do me a favor, young dwarf?”
Lukas enthusiastically nodded his head. “Anything!”
“Would you kindly inform your father that the ground is once more beneath our feet?”
Lukas glanced over at his father. Venk was still clutching one of the talons and had a look of grim determination on his face as though he was being subjugated to the most heinous of tortures.
“Father, what are you doing? Let go!”
“Absolutely not! The fiend wants me to let go so that I...”
Realizing it was not necessary to shout in order to be heard, Venk cracked an eye open. Samara had extended his foreleg out and was holding his open claw over a patch of grass. Venk was dangling two feet off the ground, still clutching the talon.
“How about that. We’ve landed.”
Samara snickered. “Your powers of observation astound me, master dwarf.”
Venk dropped to the ground and glared at the dragon. “Ha ha. I am as ill in the air as any of your ilk would be under the ground.”
“Not true,” Samara disagreed. “Land dragons live in subterranean caverns.”
“Perfect. I didn’t need to know that.”
They thanked the dragons and said their farewells. Moments later they watched as the graceful creatures rose into the air and disappeared into the clouds.
Breslin approached.
“I did not think I could ever find a more unpleasant method of travel than Lady Sarah’s teleportations.”
“When Lady Sarah teleported us from one place to the next, it was instantaneous,” Athos argued. “However, I could never get over the sensation that my insides had been left behind.”
“You prefer the dragon??”
Venk was silent as he considered which was the lesser of two evils. Close to a minute passed before Athos finally cleared his throat.
“While my brother figures out what he wants to say, I think it best if we head out.”
Breslin nodded. “I agree. What do you think, lads? Do we make for Donlari or should we find this lake that everyone is making a fuss about?”
Unaccustomed to long bouts of travel, Tristofer meekly raised a hand and suggested they try to find lodging in the village.
Breslin turned east and saw the outskirts of the village at least a league away. He suddenly squatted down and motioned for Lukas to approach.
“What do you think, Master Lukas? Seek shelter in the human village or should we make for the lake?”
“Why are you asking me?”
“You bear the Questor’s Mark. I will let you decide.”
Lukas anxiously looked at his father, who shrugged and jammed his hands into his pockets.
“Let’s find the lake.”
“You heard him. We will find the lake and camp there.”
Tristofer groaned in exasperation and began to grumble.
Several hours later Breslin and the rest of the group were crouching down low next to several squat shrubs. The area was thick with pine trees that were at least a hundred feet tall. So many trees were dotting the landscape that the sun’s welcoming rays were denied access to the forest floor. It was only because most of the lowest branches on the trees were above their heads that the dwarves were able to navigate their way through the forest.
Breslin carefully pulled a low lying branch out of their line of sight and peered anxiously at the tiny lake before them.
“What do you think, lads? Is that it?”
Venk and Athos both shrugged, each mimicking the other perfectly.
“I thought it’d be bigger,” Tristofer commented. Frowning, he started searching his robes for the map Shardwyn had given him. “I do not see how a lake this size could have sustained an entire population of nixies. It’s just not possible.”
“Maybe these nixies are tiny beings no bigger than a bug,” Venk suggested.
Breslin pointed to the map Tristofer was perusing. “What does the map say?”
The scholar didn’t say anything as he held the map one way then completely reversed it and held it upside down. Venk and Athos shared a worried look with Breslin.
“It might be the next lake over.”
Breslin held out a hand. “Give me the map.”
“It’s my map! Shardwyn gave it to me!”
“You can keep the map if you can tell me which dir
ection north is.”
Tristofer twisted to his right and peered through the trees. He then turned left and then finally leaned back to look up at the distant treetops.
“Umm... that way?”
Breslin and the two brothers turned to look right. All three shook their head. Venk sighed.
“Lukas, would you kindly point out which direction is north?”
Lukas turned a little to his right and silently hooked a thumb behind him.
“Excellent, son.”
Tristofer reluctantly surrendered the map.
“Wizards be damned, Tristofer. The lake Shardwyn circled is two leagues to the east. I thought you knew what you were doing.”
“I don’t get outside much, alright?”
“Evidently. This way, follow me. We will have to hurry if we intend to make it before sunset.”
A few hours later, as the sky began to darken, they finally broke free of the trees and approached the second lake. This one was much larger, as it would take at least several hours to walk around the entire perimeter. Lukas suddenly gasped with surprise.
“What is it?” Venk asked as he rushed to his son’s side. “Is something the matter?”
“It’s my back! My back is tingling!”
Chapter 4 – Dwarves Hate Water!
“So what does that tell us?” Venk asked, turning to look at the others. “It means we are on the right track, right? Lukas, let’s see the mark.”
“I’m willing to wager another clue has revealed itself,” Tristofer guessed.
“Like before?” Athos inquired. “When the picture of the sprite didn’t appear until contact with another Narian piece of junk was made?”
Tristofer bristled with annoyance. “They are called ‘nixies’. And they were NOT pieces of junk. They are treasured, genuine pieces of Narian culture, clearly unfit for a churlish brute such as yourself.”
Athos stared incredulously at the scholar. Had his ears deceived him? Did the scholar really say what he thought he had? Athos turned to his brother to see get his opinion. Venk, however, was trying to disguise his laughter as a series of coughs.
“No one calls me a girlish brute,” Athos growled.
“The word was churlish, not girlish,” Breslin added, doing a remarkable job of maintaining a neutral expression on his face.
“Oh. What does churlish mean?”
Venk hesitated as he tried to think of its definition.
“Uncivilized,” Breslin supplied for him.
Athos marched over to the scholar and crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re calling me uncivilized, scholar?”
“Come on, Athos,” Venk chided his brother. “He’s not that far off the mark.”
Athos considered and then shrugged. “I suppose I’ve been called worse.”
Breslin approached Lukas and squatted down low. “Can we see the mark, young sir?”
Lukas pulled his jerkin up to his chin and faced the opposite direction. Tristofer rocked back on his heels and smiled.
“Hah! See? I told you so!”
Athos and Venk simultaneously pushed Tristofer aside and studied the Questor’s Mark. Previously, the top left portion of the mark had been just as smudged and illegible as the rest, but as before, it was starting to come into focus. If they wanted the next part of the mark to be revealed they were going to have to find another Narian object. That had to mean there was something else in the area!
Venk glanced around the secluded glade. There was something hidden here? Where? How were they supposed to find it? Could the nixies, when they were alive, have hidden something in the forest? For all he knew whatever they were looking for was at the bottom of the lake.
“I’m getting a headache,” Venk muttered, more to himself than to anyone.
Tristofer promptly produced several mint leaves from one of his many pockets and slapped them down into Venk’s hand.
“Here, rub these into your hair. It’ll help take care of that headache.”
“Excuse me?”
“You most likely have a tension headache, caused by contracting muscles covering your skull. Mint leaves have long been known to be a remedy.”
Venk sighed and removed his helmet. He ducked behind the closest tree, presumably to give Tristofer’s remedy a try.
“What do we do now?” Athos asked. “Sounds like we’re supposed to find these nixie creatures. How do we do that?”
“We don’t,” Tristofer told him. “Nixies are extinct.”
“How certain are you of that?” Breslin asked. “Am I not addressing the person who tried to convince my father that the mark was a map? By that argument, are we not in the right place? Why would there be a reference to a creature that’s extinct? Are you saying this isn’t a map now?
Tristofer crossed his arms. “It’s a map, I assure you.”
“Excellent. I believe we were led here. As you will see, another corner of Lukas’ back has begun to come into focus, just like before. It must mean we’re on the right track. Do you see where I’m going with this?”
Tristofer sighed. “All I’m saying is if water sprites still exist, don’t you think that someone would have seen them after all these years?”
“If the existence of a species depended upon the ability to conceal themselves, do you not think it’s possible they would have learned to do just that?”
While Breslin and Tristofer debated, Athos stared out at the quiet lake and slowly scanned the area. Aside from a flock of bright red kytes chatting noisily nearby, there wasn’t anything else noteworthy about this lake. Could there be beings hiding in the water? Athos shuddered. He couldn’t think of a more horrid predicament. Water was meant for drinking and bathing. Immersing oneself? Absolutely not.
The incessant arguing suddenly ceased. Athos glanced over to check on his companions. The scholar was now checking various pockets looking for who knows what. A quick glance at his brother confirmed his own suspicions that Tristofer’s welcome in the group was dwindling rapidly. Venk was frowning at the small pile of junk that was growing steadily bigger as Tristofer emptied more and more pockets.
Venk cleared his throat. “Let’s assume these nixie things do exist and are hiding. What do we know about them? How do we find them? Can we set some sort of a trap?”
Breslin looked at Tristofer to answer, but the scholar was oblivious to all as he rifled through his jacket pockets.
“Tristofer, what are you looking for?”
“My map! I’ve lost Shardwyn’s map! It’s gone!”
Venk groaned aloud. Lukas, who had been staring up at the vivid red birds in the trees, dropped his gaze to the ground and started to search for the fallen piece of parchment.
“No, I don’t think it’d be on the ground,” Tristofer told the boy. “I must have lost it on that ghastly ride with the dragons. Confound it!”
Venk and Athos gave the scholar a pitiful look.
Tristofer was taken aback. “What?”
“You used it on the way here, remember? You held it upside down.”
Tristofer paused in his search.
“That’s right. I did.”
Breslin sighed. Now he was starting to get a headache.
“I last saw you holding it at the wrong lake. You must have used it once I gave it back, right?”
Tristofer had resumed his search of his pockets. “Of course.”
“You obviously didn’t want to lose it, right?”
Tristofer nodded. “Absolutely.”
“So knowing you might misplace it, you chose a special place to put it. Where?”
“Up my sleeve, of course.”
Tristofer straightened. He gingerly prodded the left sleeve of his jacket and heard the crinkle of paper. He rolled up his sleeve and smiled sheepishly as the missing map fluttered to the ground. Surprised, Tristofer turned to Breslin.
“How did you do that? How were you able to make me remember?”
“Try having a famous father with a memory ten times worse than y
ours will ever be.”
Taking another long look at the glade they were in, Breslin came to a decision.
“We’ll make camp here. Lukas, would you see if there’s anything we can use as firewood around? Master Venk, would you help him?”
Venk nodded and tapped Lukas’ shoulder to get his attention. Together the two of them disappeared into the woods.
Breslin lowered his voice to a whisper. “Athos, check the area and be certain nothing is lurking about.”
“How far?”
“Half a league should be plenty. I want no surprises.”
Athos nodded and pulled his black handled axe from its holder on his back. “Agreed.”
****
The sun had set an hour ago and the stars had come out in droves. Hundreds of thousands of tiny pinpricks of light winked down at them from above. The buzzing drone of wood burrowing insects echoed noisily from all directions. The colorful kytes had finally stopped their incessant warbling and were now all asleep in their trees, beaks tucked under one of their wings.
“Did you know that Narian diggers had no fear of becoming trapped in the rock? Not as long as they were wearing their armor!”
Tristofer had been regaling them with stories the entire time they had been setting up their camp. It was as if he had never been given a chance to share his life’s passion with someone who would listen, and right now, Lukas was sitting cross legged on the ground and staring at him with his large unblinking eyes. Tristofer told him of wonderful discoveries in metallurgy, amazing mechanical devices created to make day to day life easier, and weapons superior to all others; all were waiting for them once they discovered Nar’s location.
With his duties helping his brother complete, Venk selected a thick broken branch of firewood and sank down on the ground next to his son. He pulled out one of his daggers and began to carve several designs into the chunk of wood. While not really interested in what the scholar had to say, he did want to make sure Tristofer didn’t confuse his son with too much inaccurate information.
Thinking another willing member had joined his small audience, Tristofer told them both about the most highly sought after items to come from Nar: armor. Those who wore true Narian armor could rest easy knowing no sword, nor spear, nor any type of projectile could penetrate their protective covering. It was said that kings and warriors from all across the land came to beseech the Narian blacksmiths for customized suits of armor. The secret of their armor’s success was never discovered, making any surviving pieces of armor worth their weight in gold. Many have tried to find Nar, Tristofer told them. Fortunes were depleted as insistent families spent years searching with nothing to show for their efforts.
Lost City Page 8