Lost City

by Jeffrey Poole

  Tristofer shrugged. “I’m not sure. I had hoped that there’d be an indentation, or a hole, or something to indicate where the gem was supposed to be inserted. All I see is a featureless metal shape that I find difficult visualizing as part of a hammer. I didn’t know hammers came apart.”

  “They don’t,” Breslin assured him. “Once you assemble the hammer you see to it they don’t come apart. Why this one is, I cannot say.”

  “Where’s that old copy of Legend of Nar?” Athos asked. Once Tristofer had produced the thin book and had given it to the uncharacteristically talkative brother, the close up illustration of the hammer was inspected.

  “Look, this is obviously the head,” Athos explained, placing the large metal object down on the grassy floor. “See how the square striking surface is on one side and this metal dowel has been attached on the other? It’s flattened there, in the middle. There’s a hole in it. That’s where the handle should attach. Now look, see here? This is the counter weight. It should slide on here.”

  Athos took the heavy inch thick iron square acquired from the nixies and threaded the tang through the hole in the center of the counterweight. It fit. Perfectly.

  “See? The head matches the picture. So far.”

  “How does it stay together?” Tristofer asked. “What’s to keep the counterweight from sliding off?”

  “Er...” Venk stared blankly at the incomplete hammer. If all they were missing was the handle, how would it stay together?

  “Maybe there’s something we’re missing,” Athos suggested.

  Thinking he was once more being accused of providing false information, Tristofer angrily tapped the drawing in the book.

  “No! Do you see any other parts? Of course you don’t. That’s because there aren’t.”

  Athos surprisingly backed down from the fight.

  “That’s not what I meant. My apologies. What I meant is that there must be some other type of unknown force that keeps the hammer together. Perhaps whatever holds the jewel on? I don’t know.”

  Tristofer approached Athos and stared at the hammer head. After a few moments he nodded. “Of course. My mistake for overreacting.”

  Venk looked quizzically up at his brother. “What’s gotten in to you? Since when have you become so polite?”

  “Haven’t you always said that I need to be nicer?”

  “Since when do you listen?” Venk sputtered.

  Athos shrugged off the question.

  Venk pointed at the pieces of the hammer spread out across the ground. “Athos, step away from all of that and tell me again what you just said.”

  “Certainly. I’d be delighted to.”

  Athos stepped away from the hearth and walked about twenty feet away. He shrugged his shoulders as if to say, happy?

  “Tristofer just told you that the hammer doesn’t have any other parts besides the handle and that you’re clearly insane for thinking we’re missing something else. What do you say to that?”

  “I’d say he’s full of manure.”

  Surprised, Breslin looked up from packing his pipe and stared with amusement at Athos and his quick changing personalities.

  Venk beckoned his brother over. “Come back here. Say that again, but only when you’re next to the fire.”

  Athos returned to the hearth and sank back down on one of the logs being used as seats.

  “What do you want me to say again?”

  “That Tristofer is full of manure,” Venk suggested.

  “That’s rather rude, wouldn’t you agree?”

  “What’s going on?” Breslin asked, rising to his feet. “Why does he keep changing his personality? Is the hammer affecting him?”

  “Let’s find out if it only affects him. Walk over to the pieces of the hammer and tell me what you think about the guur.”

  “Misunderstood creatures,” Breslin stated, as soon as he stepped next to the various pieces of the hammer.

  “Now go back over there and say that again.”

  “Walking horrors which deserved to be made extinct. Hmm, that’s an interesting side effect. Anyone else want to try?”

  Venk passed, as did Tristofer. Breslin leaned down to pick up the hammer head.

  “Well, is anyone else as anxious as I am to see what’s in store for us next? Where’s Lukas?”

  Venk turned to see his that his son was sitting by the fire and quietly watching the proceedings. Venk pointed at Breslin and motioned for his son to join him.

  “You’re up, son.”

  Lukas nodded and pulled his jerkin up to his chin, hoping this would be the last time he’d have to expose his back.

  Breslin, about to touch the heavy metal block to Lukas’ back, paused. Figuring the boy’s father should be the one to hold the piece of tool up to the underling’s back, Breslin looked at the prize they had found at the waterfall and silently handed it to Venk, who wordlessly accepted it. Venk gently lowered it until it touched the Questor’s Mark.

  The final section, that which lay directly in the center of the mark, rippled outward and came into focus. Everyone leaned over Lukas’ back to get a good look at their next clue.

  It was a tree. Not just any tree, but a very unusual one at that.

  Two cedar-like trees, displaying two separate root systems and two separate colors, appeared almost dead center in the mark. The two trees looked as though they had leaned towards one another and had merged together. Growing simultaneously, the enormous tree continued to thrive as it sprouted upwards as one combined tree. The roots of the left half stretched out towards the nixie’s pool and the roots of the right half of the tree extended towards the edge of the water fall. The foliage of the combined tree branched in all directions, coming to rest next to the Zweigelan on the top left-hand portion of the map and stretching right to approach the top of the falls.

  “That must be one mother of a tree,” Athos observed. The others nodded in agreement.

  “Anyone ever see a distinct tree such as that?” Breslin asked.

  Tristofer shook his head. “If that tree is drawn to scale then we have a major problem.”

  Breslin groaned. “What now? Out with it, scholar.”

  “Well, look at the tree. According to the Lukas’ back it’s just as tall and broad as Drammli Falls. If that were the case then I’m sure we would know all about it. Someone would have reported seeing it. Therefore I see three possibilities. First, either someone has seen the tree and is managing to keep it hidden. Second, the tree is that size but exists in another kingdom altogether. Or three, the tree has been embellished and in reality, is actually much smaller. Of those choices, I’m inclined to believe the third.”

  Breslin nodded. “I concur. I would also like to point out a fourth possibility. The tree did exist, but doesn’t anymore. Uprooted, struck down, or else burned down. The method matters not, only that the tree could have been destroyed. Athos, Venk, what say you?”

  Venk stared at his son’s back. As reluctant as he was to agree with Tristofer, he had to believe if a tree of that size had been discovered, someone would have said something about it. With regard to all the places they’ve been thus far on this adventure, none of the items had taken them out of Lentari, so he didn’t believe the tree existed in any other kingdom. Therefore, the tree had to exist here in Lentari. The illustration must be sized incorrectly.

  “The other sections of the map were accurate. The tree must exist somewhere.”

  “I’d like to remind everyone that the hammer head had been left in the rock on the cliff face and that it broke off and fell to the sea. Thankfully it hadn’t sunk into the water. I don’t think we can rule out the possibility of the tree being destroyed.”

  “Provided we can’t find it, I would agree,” Breslin added.

  “For the sake of argument, let’s assume the tree exists,” Venk argued. “The size can’t possibly be right. Therefore it must not be drawn to scale.”

  Athos nodded thoughtfully. “I’ll go along with that.�
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  “So how do we find this tree?” Breslin wanted to know. “Anyone have any ideas?”

  “Who is the foremost expert on trees?” Venk asked as he looked over his shoulder at the scholar. “Who do you recommend, Tristofer?”

  Tristofer was silent as he considered.

  “Logically I would suggest that we visit a library and look it up. However, how do we do something like that without arousing suspicion? Besides, I don’t think consulting one of our libraries is the wisest move we could make.”

  “Why not?” Athos demanded.

  “Do the Kla Guur have many trees in their city?”

  Athos’ mouth closed with a snap.

  “Judging from your expression,” Tristofer continued, “I will assume Borahgg has just as many trees as Bykram.”

  “So what do you suggest? We find a human library?”

  Tristofer shook his head. “Of course not. To utilize a human library would create an open invitation for the humans to ask questions about the nature of our mission. So the answer there is a resounding ‘no’.”

  “Do you have any idea how many trees must be in Lentari?” Venk asked, frowning. “How are we supposed to find this one? It’s like looking for a needle in a giant haystack. If it was as large as the picture depicts, then we might have a chance in finding it. As it happens, it sounds like all of us feel that the tree isn’t drawn to scale. So it could be anywhere in Lentari. Perhaps if we –”

  “I don’t know about the rest of you,” Athos suddenly interrupted, “but I am damn tired of walking. We need to know exactly where we’re going so we’re not traipsing around Lentari looking for this blasted tree. Know what I mean, Tristofer?”

  The scholar’s smile vanished instantly.

  “It was one time. One time! Are you ever going to forget that I led you to the wrong lake?”

  Athos, Venk, and Breslin all shook their heads no.

  “I think what Athos is trying to delicately say,” Venk translated, “is to be as certain of the destination as you can be because it wouldn’t be good for you to guide us to someplace like Capily over on the west coast and then have it revealed we are nowhere close to where we should be.”

  Tristofer nodded. “I agree. Thankfully in this case, I don’t have enough data to offer a valid destination.”

  “What do you suggest?” Breslin asked him. “What should we do next?”

  “The fact remains we need to ask for help. The question is, who? Who can we ask? Better yet, who can we trust?”

  “What about Rhamalli?” Lukas asked as he dropped his shirt back into place and turned around. “He has really good eyesight. He flies really fast. Do you think he’d look for us?”

  The adults hesitated. Should they ask the dragon for help yet again? How would it appear to the others if it became common knowledge that they couldn’t successfully complete their mission without constant wyverian help?

  Venk looked at Breslin.

  “Your call.”

  Breslin tugged on his beard as he considered Lukas’ suggestion. With a resounding shrug, he turned to the underling.

  “This is your quest, Master Lukas. It’s your idea. I leave the final decision in your hands.”

  Unaccustomed to having an adult ask for his opinion, Lukas glanced at his companions. Every single adult was gazing back at him, awaiting his decision.

  “The more eyes we have searching, the better,” Lukas slowly said, remembering all the times his father had him and his sister searching for mislaid tools in his workshop. “I say we ask Rhamalli for help.”

  Breslin nodded. “Very well. We ask for help. Hopefully the dragon is still in the area.”

  “Suggesting I have something better to do?” came the dragon’s dry response.

  Breslin laughed. “Well, do you?”

  “Clearly not.”

  “Have you seen the tree on Lukas’ back?”

  “I have not.”

  “Come down here then so we can show you. We need to find this tree.”

  “Trying to find a single tree out of so many is akin to locating a specific blade of grass in a meadow.”

  “Are you saying you can’t find it?”

  Rhamalli’s deep voice sounded from behind them, startling them all.

  “If given enough time, and enough perseverance, anything can be found.”

  “How do you do that?” Athos asked again. “Move with such stealth. Is that something all dragons can do?”

  “What?”

  “Sneak up on others as quietly as you can.”

  “That was not even close to being quiet. My wings disturbed the air and rustled the grass as I landed. My scales ground together as I moved, which created quite a disturbance.”

  The dwarves eyed each other. “Did anyone hear anything?”

  Venk and Athos both shook their heads. Tristofer had returned to studying the hammer head.

  “Perhaps the sounds of your own breathing disguised my arrival?”

  “Are you saying we’re breathing too loud?”

  Rhamalli shrugged. The scales of his torso rippled outward as he shrugged, yet no one was able to hear any type of noise from his scales sliding against one another.

  “Besides your breathing, there are other stimuli present which can fool the senses.”

  It was Athos’ turn to shrug. He pointed at his nephew. “Whatever. Have you ever seen this tree before? Lukas, show him your back.”

  Lukas sighed and showed the dragon his back. Rhamalli glanced at the now complete mark covering Lukas’ back. The dragon shook his head.

  “I have not seen a tree like that before.”

  “Think you could locate it if you flew over it?” Tristofer asked.

  Rhamalli shook his massive head. “At the speed I fly, I could pass right over that tree and not know whether or not it was the right one. Based on the illustration, that tree will be identifiable by looking at its trunk. I can only see the treetop as I pass overhead. My gaze can penetrate the treetops if I stare at the same area long enough. However, in order to do that I would have to fly too slow to be useful. I do not think I would be able to render much assistance here.”

  Breslin nodded. “I understand. We’ll have to figure out something else.”

  “Like what?” Venk wanted to know.

  “As my father always told me when I was little,” Breslin said, “we’ll have to look it up. Tristofer is right. We need a library.”

  “Which one?” Venk asked. “The library in our city won’t be of much help.”

  “Do all dwarves live deep in the mountains?” Rhamalli suddenly asked.

  Breslin shrugged. “As far as I’m aware. Why?”

  “Is it rare for dwarves to be seen on the surface?” the red dragon continued.

  “Unless said dwarves are on a quest,” Athos mumbled softly.

  “We choose to remain underground because that’s where we thrive,” Breslin explained to Rhamalli. “We work the stone. We mine. We dig. We explore. It’s who we are.”

  “Why do you ask?” Venk wanted to know.

  “When we were searching for the Zweigelan earlier, several dwarves were spotted.”

  “Are you sure they were dwarves?” Breslin asked, curious. “They were probably just humans.”

  “Wearing leather armor, bearded, with axes strapped to their back?”

  That drew Breslin up short.

  “Where?”

  Rhamalli’s long red neck lifted up and he looked south.

  “There, about three hours as the dragon flies.”

  “That would be my clan,” Tristofer admitted. “Kla Rehn. My home city, Bykram, lies that way.”

  Breslin stared at the scholar. “Your clan frequently ventures Topside?”

  Tristofer shrugged.

  “Why didn’t you say so before?”

  “I didn’t realize someone had asked. Sorry. Must’ve missed it.”

  Breslin eyed the scholar. “I’ll bet you did. Hmmm. It sounds as though your clan
is the closest. I assume they have a library. I can tell you that after having spent what feels like years in Borahgg’s library, I know they don’t have a, er, there isn’t a section devoted to, well, to trees, so...”

  “Dendrology,” Tristofer interrupted.

  “What?”

  “The term is ‘dendrology’. The study of trees.”

  “Fine, whatever. Borahgg’s library does not have a dendrology section, and having heard Venk say that there isn’t much in their city’s library either, I’m forced to conclude we’re going to have to try our luck with one of them. Since a human library isn’t an option then we must make for a clan library. We just learned yours is the closest, Tristofer. Therefore, yours is the only viable option.”

  “Bad idea,” Tristofer told them with a frown. “I’m telling you, there isn’t anything useful there.”

  “Is there something you’re not telling us?” Athos asked the scholar. “I’d rather face a cave full of guur, unarmed, than spend any amount of time in a room full of books. Every time I step foot in a library I have to find the closest chamber pot.”

  Venk sighed loudly and rolled his eyes. Lukas giggled.

  “So what’s wrong with yours that you don’t want to go there?” Venk wanted to know.

  “Will you just trust me? I’m trying to prevent everyone from making a useless trip. Mine may be the closest library, but I still say the human library in R’Tal would be a better choice.”

  Breslin shook his head. “Absolutely not. I will not take that chance.”

  “So how far away is your clan?” Athos grumpily asked Tristofer. He was not relishing the thought of spending the next several days walking. If it would take Rhamalli three hours of solid flying to reach it, how long would it take them? “Just tell me plainly. How close are they?”

  Tristofer smiled as he sensed an opportunity to dissuade others from making the trip. “They are at the southeastern tip of Lentari. The terrain from here to there is very rugged. No paths, no roads, and certainly no help if we need it. Perhaps we should...”

  “No,” Breslin interrupted. “We’re going. Everyone pack your gear. I want to be at least five leagues from here before the sun sets.”