Lost City

by Jeffrey Poole

  In truth, they only made it three, but it was still more than an adequate start. They had passed the western road leading to Donlari just under two hours ago, and the snow covered peaks of the Selekais had just become visible on the southern horizon. Also visible was the beginnings of the forest, but it was at least another three leagues away.

  Breslin looked at the open prairie with disgust. Aside from the distant edge of the forest, there wasn’t a single tree to be found. If they were going to make camp here they’d do so knowing they were completely out in the open and exposed to anyone that might be passing by. Either they were going to have to post a guard or else...

  “Didn’t the sack of spells Shardwyn gave us have one that was for protection?”

  Venk, who had been sitting on his pack while the group decided what to do, stood up and retrieved the spell bag. Pulling out the two remaining spheres, he studied the symbols etched onto the surface of each spell. One had a tiny shield, the other a rain drop.

  “I think so. This one has a shield on it.” He handed the spell to Breslin. “Are you going to use it?”

  “Wonderful,” Athos mumbled. “Who knows what that crackpot wizard is going to do to us this time?”

  “We’re out in the open,” Breslin snapped. “Unless you want to take the first watch, I suggest you keep quiet.”

  Athos shrugged.

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. I’m exhausted. You’re beat. Everyone is. We could all use a good twelve hours of rest. Everyone ready?”

  Venk and Lukas blearily nodded their heads. Tristofer snapped awake and nodded his agreement, too, even though he didn’t know what he was agreeing to.

  Breslin invoked the spell and waited with baited breath to see what would happen. A few moments passed. Nothing. He stared at his hand. The sphere was gone. Something must have happened!

  “What are we waiting for?” Athos asked tiredly.

  “I’m not sure. The spell is gone. It did something, but I just can’t tell what. That scares me more than the guur ever could.”

  Athos grunted. After nothing else happened in the next ten seconds, he decided to pull his ground cover from his pack and began scouting for the best location to set up his bed roll.

  A flash of blue light temporarily blinded everyone as Athos was thrown violently backwards. The blue light flashed again and he was then thrown forward, but angled down. He impacted heavily onto the grass.

  Pushing fatigue aside, Venk quickly rolled to his feet. He had pulled his crossbow and Breslin had pulled out his axe, both at the same time.

  “Wizards be damned! What was that? Is Athos alright?”

  Breslin hurried over to the still form of Athos and chuckled.

  “He’s snoring.”

  “What hit him?”

  Breslin shook his head. “Unknown. Wait. Let me try something.”

  He selected a small nearby rock and tossed it towards the area Athos had originally been heading towards. The rock sailed about fifteen feet before the blue light flashed and flung the rock back the way it came. Breslin neatly snatched the rock out of the air before it could hit the other wall and bounce again, which unfortunately was what had happened to Athos.

  “I’m beginning to see the nature of Shardwyn’s spell,” Breslin told Venk. “Let me see how big of an area we have here.”

  Breslin tossed the stone at random spots around their camp. He managed to catch the rock most of the times it was bounced back towards him.

  “The shield is about thirty feet in diameter,” he reported. “Let’s hope no one sleep walks.”

  Tristofer grunted sleepily. He collapsed onto his bed roll and was snoring within seconds.

  Venk approached Breslin and looked anxiously back at his son, who was already asleep. “Any idea how long the spell will last?”

  Breslin shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. Let’s hope until morning at least.”

  “What if it doesn’t wear off by then?”

  “We’ll worry about that if it comes to it.”

  The following morning came. And went. The dwarves, intent on replenishing their depleted energy reserves, slept well past sunrise and were only awakened when a flock of tiny purple kytes decided to inspect the quiet campsite to see if any morsels, tidbits, or juicy insects could be found.

  Lukas awoke to find himself in the middle of a musical concert of trills, chirps, and whistles. Everywhere he looked he could see little purple birds. They were hopping all over their campsite, rooting around in their packs, scrambling over their weapons, even perching on those that were still asleep; a fluffy kyte was sitting precariously on his uncle’s nose.

  Lukas nudged his father awake.

  “Look! There are kytes everywhere!”

  Venk blinked a few times and then tried to rub the sleep out of his eyes. He smirked as he watched his brother absentmindedly swat at his face. Evidently the kyte perched on Athos’ nose was tickling him with its feathers. Every time Athos swiped his arm the kyte would take to the air, only to return moments later when the sleeper went still again.

  “I would say that the protection spell has definitely worn off,” Breslin said as he noticed the antics between Athos and the kyte. He stretched his stiff back and glanced around their camp at the flurry of avian activity. “Did someone sprinkle some seed? Where did all these kytes come from?”

  Venk shrugged. He and Lukas began stowing their gear.

  “You have precisely five seconds to get off my nose unless you want to become breakfast,” a gravelly voice suddenly barked out.

  The purple kyte tweeted in alarm. It rose into the air, but not before it deposited a tell tale symbol of its displeasure. Unfortunately for Athos, it landed in his open mouth.

  “Gah! You wretched, disgusting, vile tuft of feathers!”

  Grinning from ear to ear, Venk tossed his water bag to his brother.

  The rest of the tiny birds rose into the air and circled high in the sky. The flock coalesced into a writhing mass of hundreds of purple birds as it circled round and round. When it became clear the section of ground was not going to return to its docile state any time soon, the flock moved off.

  Athos gargled another mouthful of water and spat it out.

  “That... that...”

  “Was a crappy way to start the day?” Venk wryly asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “Ha ha. Missed your calling. Should’ve been a jester.”

  Venk smiled again. He pointed at Athos’ beard. “Might want to wash your beard out.”

  “What? You’ve got to be kidding!”

  As Athos upended the water bag over his beard, Venk helped Breslin and Tristofer stow their gear back into their packs. After a quick meal of dried meat they resumed their trek south.

  “It sure is a nice day, isn’t it?” Tristofer commented.

  “If I hear you say how wonderful this day is one more time, scholar,” Athos growled, “I’ll personally make you eat that book you’re holding.”

  Tristofer hurriedly put his copy of his favorite book, Klondaeg – The Monster Hunter, a story about a fearless dwarf monster killer, back into his jacket pocket. While certain Athos would never make him actually eat the book, he wasn’t about to press his luck with the irritable brother, either.

  “What did I tell you?” Breslin’s voice was heard saying. “We made the forest before midday. I told you we could do it.”

  “Only because we had you nagging us the entire time,” Athos grumped.

  “We finally get to put this infernal sea behind us,” Breslin pointed out. “Doesn’t that make you happy?”

  “I don’t think anything you say would please him right now,” a deep familiar voice said.

  Breslin shook his head. He looked up. As expected, the dragon was nowhere in sight. “How long have you been following us this time, Rhamalli?”

  “I never left.”

  “You mean you could have carried us here the first time? Why didn’t you?” Athos demanded.
/>   “You never asked.”

  “I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but could you carry us all there? As much as I don’t want to fly again, I really don’t want to spend the next several days walking, either.”

  “Carry five dwarves? Easily.”

  “Will you carry us the rest of the way?”

  “Not without running the risk of dropping one of you. Dwarves are small. You might slip through my claws so I might unconsciously clasp my talons together more tightly than I should. I’d feel terrible if I knew that I had squished you all to jelly. Therefore I’d prefer not to do that.”

  “Appreciated by all,” Athos murmured, impressed that Rhamalli had clearly given some thought to trying to carry them all to the Kla Rehn’s city.

  “Do you have any idea how revolting that’d be?” Rhamalli continued. He glided in from the east and touched down gently next to the walking dwarves. His long serpentine tail twitched. “I’d have to clean dwarf goo off my scales. How disgusting.”

  Venk clapped his hands over his son’s ears.

  “Would you stop talking about turning us into goo?”

  Rhamalli fell silent.

  “Thank you. I’m with Breslin when it comes to flying, but I’m also in agreement about not walking all the way to Bykram. So, let me ask you something. What if we could guarantee that you wouldn’t drop any of us? Then would you carry us to Bykram and save us from another several days of walking?”

  Two wyverian eyes fell upon the dwarf wearing the red leather armor.

  “I’m listening.”

  “What if we were to build something that all of us could fit in? We wouldn’t be riding on your back and all you’d have to do is carry it.”

  Rhamalli considered. “Like a cage?”

  “You’re not getting me in any cage,” Athos stated flatly.

  Venk shook his head. “I’m thinking more along the lines of a basket.”

  Athos thoughtfully nodded. “I see where you’re going with this. A large basket that we could all sit in, with a handle. The dragon could then carry us without fear of injury to one of us.”

  “That sounds like an awful lot of work,” Breslin observed. “Is it worth it? Bykram isn’t that much farther away, is it?”

  Tristofer shook his head no. “Not only is it nowhere close to here, there aren’t any roads leading directly there. I may not be a carpenter, but I’ll help build this device in whatever fashion that I can if it will prevent us from taking another step.”

  An hour later Venk handed the scholar a small ax and pointed to the growing pile of branches.

  “Strip these of all smaller branches. Make them as clean as possible. We’ll be sitting on these and I’m sure you don’t want any broken branches poking us in the butt.”

  Tristofer hefted the ax and eyed the large pile of branches. He nodded. “I think I can handle that.”

  “Good. Breslin and I will start building the frame of the basket while Athos continues to gather wood.”

  “What can I do?” Lukas asked.

  Venk pulled one of his daggers off his belt and handed it hilt first to his son. “Help Tristofer. The sooner these branches are stripped the sooner we get the basket built.”

  Working together the basket was constructed in just under two hours. Once the large tightly woven container had been completed, the five dwarves broke for lunch while Rhamalli continued to circle lazily in the sky.

  “We should have thought of this sooner,” Breslin exclaimed once he was seated in the basket and clutching his pack tightly on his lap.

  Venk and Athos joined him moments later. Athos leaned over the lip of the basket and pulled his nephew in. Tristofer extended his arm and waited for someone to give him a hand as well. Breslin sighed inwardly and then grasped the scholar’s hand. He was surprised to learn that he could barely pull Tristofer up the side of the basket.

  “What the blazes are you holding?” Breslin puffed out. “A bag of rocks?”

  “It’s just my pack. There might be one or two books in there.”

  “Did you keep all those books you stole from the Zweigelan?”

  “I didn’t steal them. I borrowed them. I didn’t want to leave them behind. I still don’t.”

  “If Rhamalli says there’s too much weight in here, and something has to go, then I’m personally tossing it over the side whether or not you’re holding on.”

  Once they had given Rhamalli the signal that the basket was loaded and they were ready to depart, all the dwarves were slammed against the basket floor as the dragon swooped in to snatch them off the ground, all while refusing to decrease the speed at which he was flying. Higher and higher they rose into the air as Rhamalli hefted the unwieldy basket clutched tightly in his front left claws. Once the dragon had reached a comfortable altitude for flying, he banked right and headed south.

  Lukas made a move to stand in the swaying basket but was violently yanked back down by his father.

  “Not on your life, boy,” Venk warned. “Stay down.”

  “But I want to see what’s below! Join me! We’re safe in here. What do you have to lose?”

  “My lunch.”

  Lukas smiled down at his father and his uncle, who were both gripping the sides of the basket so tightly that their knuckles had gone white. The underling glanced at the other two adults and noticed they, too, did not appear to be enjoying the trip. Breslin’s eyes were screwed shut, and his face even looked a little green.

  Lukas dropped to his knees and sat companionably next to Breslin.

  “Are you alright?”

  “Incredible. I miss Lady Sarah.”

  “You do? I thought you didn’t like to be teleported?” Athos reminded him. His stomach, already on questionable speaking terms with him, clenched tighter at the thought of the female Nohrin’s sudden teleportation jumps.

  “I don’t. But I’m willing to risk it if we could avoid the prolonged hell we’re in now. I don’t know how much more my stomach can take.”

  “Who is Lady Sarah?” Rhamalli’s deep voice cut in.

  “You should know her,” Breslin scolded. “She’s the human woman from another world that healed all you dragons that were hurt by those mechanical monsters.

  Rhamalli nodded. “Of course. I should have known.”

  “She, along with her husband, Sir Steve, make up the Nohrin, protectors of the young human prince. Her jhorun is teleportation. She could teleport large groups of people clear across the kingdom if she wanted to.”

  “What don’t you like about teleporting?” the dragon asked.

  “It’s a terrible jolt to the system. It’s the same problem I have with flying: queasiness.”

  “So you probably wouldn’t like it if I did this?”

  Rhamalli suddenly lurched to the left and then quickly to the right before righting himself and leveling off.

  Athos, Breslin, and Tristofer all slapped hands over their mouths. Lukas stared intently at his uncle and then Breslin.

  “You look as though you’re about to be sick,” Lukas pointed out. “Don’t worry. We’re making great progress. Do you see how fast the trees are moving by underneath us? From up here it looks as though the forest is alive. Look! It’s like the treetops have become rippling waves! Up, down, up, down, and now left to right.”

  Breslin leapt to his feet and was barely able to get his head over the side of the basket before he sent his lunch down to the forest floor.

  Tristofer clapped a hand over his mouth and looked away.

  “What?” Breslin demanded, as he wiped his mouth with the back of a sleeve. “Haven’t you ever seen someone get sick before?”

  Tristofer hastily nodded. He had closed his eyes and was humming loudly to himself.

  Venk smiled.

  “Fighting the urge to taste your lunch for a second time?”

  Tristofer nodded again.

  “Get your mind off of it,” Venk told him. “Think about something else.”

  “Like what?” Tr
istofer whispered between huge gasps of air.

  “Like what the plan is once we reach Bykram. This is your home city. How are you going to handle it?”

  “As discreetly as possible,” Tristofer answered, still breathing heavily. “A former teacher of mine is our best bet. We didn’t always see eye to eye but at least we respected one another.”

  “I assume he’s still alive?” Athos asked, looking rather pale himself.

  Tristofer shrugged. “I hope so.”

  The basket shook violently for a few seconds as Rhamalli was buffeted by several strong air currents. Ten seconds later they were peacefully gliding south once more.

  “When’s the last time you were home?” Breslin asked, desperate to keep his mind off of what the dragon was doing and the fact that he knew just how far off the ground they presently were.

  Tristofer twirled the tip of his beard around his finger. “Let’s see. I’d say it’s been at least a hundred years.”

  “Since you’ve returned to your home city??”

  Tristofer shook his head. “No, since I left the city.”

  “And you haven’t returned home since? Why?”

  “We didn’t always see eye to eye.”

  “Who’s the ‘we’ you’re talking about?” Venk inquired.

  Tristofer shrugged. “The Council.”

  “What didn’t they see eye to eye with you about?” Breslin asked.

  “Oh, it’s nothing, really.”

  “More like it’s nothing you’d like to talk about, is that it?”

  Tristofer shrugged again. “It wasn’t important. I left and haven’t regretted my decision.”

  “Except for now,” Venk reminded him.

  The scholar ignored him.

  Several hours later Rhamalli informed them that they were approaching a small valley in which several dwarves had previously been seen in. Breslin, Venk, and Athos actually observed two dwarves dive into several nearby bushes as Rhamalli deposited the basket near the northern edge of the valley. The dragon verified the basket and its cargo were unharmed before retreating back into the sky. The great red dragon turned to look back at the small group of dwarves as he strove to put as much distance between himself and the ground as possible.