****
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.
“How many times have you set out to find this city?” Venk mildly asked. He frowned at the wood he was holding. His attempts to try and carve a troll skull from the wood were not that successful.
“Six times,” Tristofer told him with a smile.
“How far have you made it?”
Small curls dropped onto his lap as he continued to whittle away at the chunk of wood.
“Not very far,” Tristofer admitted. “I led several expeditions to the northeastern section of the Bohanis. I was convinced I had found the valley of the Three Crags.”
“I take it you were wrong?”
Tristofer grunted with annoyance. His most recent failed attempt was still a bitter point of contention between him and Maelnar.
“You said the Narians made good armor?”
“No,” Tristofer corrected. “I said they made great armor.”
“What about weapons?”
“It sounds strange,” Tristofer admitted, “but they weren’t known for their weapons. They focused more on tools than weapons.”
Busy carving one of the two fangs on a troll’s lower jaw, Venk paused.
“What can you tell us about that power hammer I heard you mention earlier?”
Tristofer nodded. “The Narian power hammer. What I can tell you is that it’s an immensely powerful hammer that is rumored to be able to pulverize the hardest stones with a single blow.”
“Do you think they used jhorun to make it work?”
The scholar shook his head. “I do not. In all my years of research, not once has there been any mention of jhorun when it came to Nar.”
“How do you think the hammer works? You must have a theory.”
Athos and Breslin appeared. Both claimed an open spot near the fire. Athos leaned up against a large boulder and pulled his pipe and tobacco out from a pouch on his belt. Breslin mumbled something and pulled his own pipe out but then scowled as he realized he had forgotten his pouch of tobacco. After packing his pipe full of tobacco, Athos tossed the pouch to Breslin, who nodded appreciatively. Breslin packed his pipe full and tossed the pouch back.
“I personally think the gem is the key,” Tristofer continued. “It somehow enhances the hammer. I see no other reason for it to be there.”
Lukas nodded. “My friends all think the hammers are more dangerous than the swords.”
Venk’s hand paused as he worked to remove another sliver of wood. He regarded his son as though he was staring at a stranger.
“You’ve talked about Nar before?”
Lukas twisted around to look at his father. “Aye. With my friends. Sometimes we pretend we’re Narian soldiers. We always carry hammers, never swords.”
“The hammer was important to the Narians, obviously,” Tristofer told Lukas, turning to face the young boy. “It’s featured on their crest, and of course, it’s featured on your back.”
“Why is it upside down?” Lukas wanted to know.
Curious, all three adults looked at the scholar for an answer.
Tristofer was silent as he considered. “Presumably because it was heavy.”
Lukas thought for a moment and then shook his head. “I don’t think they’d make a hammer that they couldn’t wield properly.”
Venk noticed with keen interest that Tristofer had started to fidget uncomfortably. Enjoying this exchange between his son and the scholar, Venk let the half carved skull drop into his lap, forgotten. He crossed his legs at his ankles and waited to see how Tristofer would respond. Chewing thoughtfully on a broken twig, Breslin looked over at the scholar and waited for a response, too. Bored, Athos pulled his pack over to him, retrieved a small whetstone, and proceeded to sharpen his axe.
Tristofer shrugged. “Why they chose to depict the power hammer in such a manner is a mystery that will have to be solved once we find Nar.”
Lukas nodded. “So you don’t know. That’s all you had to say.”
Tristofer frowned as the underling nonchalantly shifted his attention back to the twinkling stars. The last thing he needed on this expedition was another opportunity in which he could lose what little credence he had left. One couldn’t project an aura of confidence when one became stymied by a simple boy.
The following morning began abruptly as Tristofer awoke with a start and let out a bellow of outrage.
“A pox on this accursed place!”
“What the deuce are you blathering about now?” Athos demanded grumpily from his hammock. He had draped his heavy parka across himself and sometime during the night he had completely covered his face. He was now propping a corner of his makeshift blanket up and was peering at Tristofer from within the recesses of his warm cocoon. “Keep your voice down, will you? You’ve been hanging around the humans too long if you think a measly eight hours is enough sleep.”
“My books! My things! They’re gone!”
Breslin, forgetting he was sleeping several feet off the ground, made a move to stand and ended up tangled in his hammock. He crashed heavily to the ground. Moments later, his snores resumed.
Tristofer hurried over to his sleeping form and shook him roughly to wake him up.
“We’ve been robbed! Everything I brought with me has vanished! This is a catastrophe!”
Breslin finally cracked an eye and glared at the scholar. A quick glance up confirmed the sun had not risen, although it was close. The sky was beginning to lighten as dawn approached. Breslin’s brow furrowed.
“You wake me up to tell me you’ve misplaced something?”
“I didn’t misplace anything. It was stolen! We’ve been robbed!”
Breslin gave a quick cursory check of himself by patting several of his pockets. He pulled his pack from where it was leaning up against a tree and rifled through it.
“Everything is here. Food, water, weapons. I haven’t lost anything.”
Venk checked his belongings, and his son’s, and confirmed th
at they weren’t missing anything, either. He looked over at the still form of his brother, swaying gently in the breeze.
“Athos? Are you missing anything?”
The parka covering Athos bulged slightly as he checked the contents of his pockets. An arm then snaked out from under the warmth of the parka and checked the status of his pack, which was sitting on the ground directly beneath him. The thin leather cord he had used to tie his pack and his hammock together remained intact.
“My stuff is fine,” Athos grumpily responded. He pulled his arm back in under the covers and tried to go back to sleep.
Tristofer started to whine. “So it’s just me? Oh, that’s just great. Why do these things always happen to me?”
“I’ll help you look for your things.”
Tristofer turned to see Venk’s young son swing his legs out over his hammock and drop lightly to the ground.
“Your pockets were all full,” Lukas remembered as he stared around at the forest floor. “It’s too much stuff for one person to carry off. Let’s look for clues!”
“Son, it’s too dark,” Venk told him. “We’ll search for Tristofer’s junk at first light.”
Tristofer crossed his arms over his chest and sulked. “It’s not junk.”
An entire hour was spent searching for some signs of what had happened to Tristofer’s possessions. No signs, no footprints, not even a trace of any of Tristofer’s numerous books could be found. He might as well have dug a hole, held his jacket upside down over it, and then filled the hole back up. The scholar was right. His things had vanished. Only when the group had officially given up the search did Lukas give Tristofer a glimmer of hope.
“I think I see something!”
Tristofer hurried eagerly to Lukas’ side.
“What? What is it? Have you found something?”
“No, but I see something. Look, there in the water. There’s something floating about twenty feet away.”
Tristofer shaded his eyes from the overhead sun and squinted out at the water. There was something in the water, and it looked an awful lot like –
“It’s one of my books! What is it doing in the water?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Venk asked as he joined his son at the water’s edge. “I’d say your things were pilfered by a nixie.”
“Where’s your proof?” Tristofer sputtered. “You have none. Why? Because nixies are extinct.”
Venk looked left, then right, and then behind them. “See anyone else around here? It’s quiet enough where we would have heard the splash of your book being thrown. I think it was carried in.”
“How did you know that nixies could leave the water?” Tristofer asked. His respect for Lukas’ father just rose by several levels. That fact wasn’t commonly known.
“You aren’t the only one who has heard stories.”
“Who...”
“Our father has regaled us with many a tale when we were young,” Athos explained, finally extricating himself from his hammock. “Tobin used to tell stories of when he and my grandfather would sneak Topside and listen to the nixies sing.”
“They sang?” Tristofer asked, astonished. “I have never heard any mention of singing.”
“Exactly how often do you research anything besides Nar?” Breslin asked.
“My knowledge about occurrences that may or may not have happened Topside is severely limited as my area of expertise is focused on but one thing: Nar.”
“Sounds like you have used that line before,” Venk observed.
Tristofer smiled mischievously. “Once or twice.”
Breslin rubbed his temples. His head was throbbing mercilessly. It was becoming uncomfortably common for him to get a headache in Tristofer’s presence. He sighed.
“In case someone present,” Breslin began, “happens to know a thing or two about these water sprites, perchance that person, or persons, will care to enlighten those that don’t?”
Tristofer looked at Lukas’ father and held out an arm in an open invitation to accept Breslin’s request. Venk shook his head no. Tristofer turned to look back out over the water at his floating book.
“I’ll tell you what I know about nixies but first we must get my book back. Who’s the best swimmer?”
Three adult dwarves, and one underling, all cringed.
“It’s your book,” Athos pointed out. “If anyone has to get wet I’d say it should be its owner. That means you.”
Tristofer gazed helplessly back out at the water. “But I can’t swim! Surely one of you must know how to swim. Lukas, help an old man out and fetch me my book.”
Lukas shook his head no and hid behind his father.
“Venk?”
Venk shook his head. “No.”
“Breslin?”
“I’ve never waded in any farther than my knees. Not a chance.”
Desperate, Tristofer turned to the last member of their group. “Athos, do you think that...”
“Never learned how, pal.”
“Tristofer, you know we all avoid the water,” Breslin patiently reminded him. “We don’t swim for a reason. We sink.”
“I know, I know,” Tristofer snapped. He turned to look longingly at his floating book. As if on cue, the book slipped below the surface and didn’t reappear.
“Someone must have taken your things,” Breslin told him. “I want to know who, or what, is responsible.”
“As I said before,” Venk reminded everyone as he laid a hand on his son’s shoulder, “I think this is a prank masterminded by the nixies.”
“You don’t know that,” Athos scolded. His trademark frown had reappeared on his face.
“We’ve searched this entire area and have found no traces. The one thing that has been found was in the water. According to Shardwyn, this is the last known location of the nixies. I’d say this proves they’re still alive.”
“How long has it been since anyone has seen a nixie?” Lukas wanted to know.
“Oh, about a day ago,” Athos chuckled softly.
Breslin, standing nearby, snorted with laughter and expertly disguised it as a cough.
“At least 500 years,” Tristofer answered. Neither he nor Lukas had heard Athos’ comment. “According to Shardwyn.”
Lukas’ naturally inquisitive nature took over.
“What’d they look like? You say there’s a picture of a nixie on my back. Is it accurate?”
“Ordinarily I’d say that I wouldn’t know,” Tristofer answered with a smile, “but both Shardwyn’s notes and the Questor’s Mark are a match. The nixies are humanoid, about a quarter the size of a human, which makes them about half our size. They have long black hair usually tied so that it falls evenly down their back. Their skin is pale, almost to the point where it appears light green. Naturally, they have gills. Where the gills are located remains a mystery as no one has ever studied a nixie up close. There are reports of nixies venturing out onto dry land for a period of several minutes, which suggests they can hold their breath that long. They can’t survive out of water; that much is certain. What’s also certain, since they pilfered my belongings, is that they are a mischievous people. Whether they puncture the bottom of boats or else pull them under, many people have reported mysterious accidents when trying to cross any body of water said to be inhabited by a tribe of nixies.”
“So they’re dangerous,” Athos decided, absentmindedly resting his hand on the handle of his axe.
“They won’t openly harm anyone,” Tristofer countered. “Quite the opposite. If a boat sinks in their water, they’ll make sure all occupants make it to shore, albeit typically the wrong shore.”
“Then why bother sabotaging the blasted boat in the first place?” Breslin asked.
Tristofer shrugged. “Maybe they take offense to someone else using their waters? Perhaps they’re offended by people who don’t swim? No one can say.”
“In that case, they’re goin
g to just love us,” Athos grumbled. Breslin chuckled.
“How can we tell them we’re friends?” Lukas suddenly asked, drawing everyone’s attention. “We need to let them know we won’t hurt them.”
“There is a way, aye. The problem is,” Tristofer scratched the back of his head as he said this, “it’s more likely we could find the nixies on our own.”
Breslin gave Lukas an approving smile and tousled his hair. He turned to face Tristofer.
“It seems to me that this quest is one huge challenge after another, so it fits that we have to accomplish some task to proceed. What do you need, Tristofer?”
“An orikai flower.”
“A what?”
“It’s a rare flower that I haven’t seen in over a hundred years.”
“Describe it. There’s got to be one around here.”
Tristofer shook his head. “I can tell you, but it won’t do any good. It’s probably the most rare and sought after flower known to exist.”
“You’ve got to be kidding. We’re looking for pontal now?” Athos threw his hands up in protest. “This is not the type of quest I signed up for!”
“Ignore him,” Venk told Tristofer, glaring at his brother as he did so. “What are we looking for?”
“You’re looking for a tri-petal flower that has purple elongated petals with white edges. The column and stamen are golden that will sparkle when exposed to the sunlight. It’s presumed the nixies are attracted to the reflected light.”
“Sounds like a very unique flower,” Breslin admitted. “So once we find one of these flowers, then what do we do?”
“I doubt very much you’ll find an orikai, but if you do, you’ll know it. The flower lives on a distinctive blue stalk that looks a lot like a vine. If you find it, bring it back here as quickly as possible.”
“Split up,” Breslin told the group. “Find one of these flowers. Call out when you do.”
“You’re not going to find one,” the scholar insisted. “There haven’t been any sightings for a very long time.”
Breslin grabbed Tristofer by his jacket collar and dragged him along. “Don’t think you’re getting out of searching. The more eyes, the better. Get moving.”
Four hours later, after meticulously combing the area around the lake and then expanding the search for a full two leagues beyond, Breslin was forced to admit Tristofer had been right. There were no exotic purple flowers anywhere in the area. How were they supposed to summon the nixies now?
“Was there any other way to get their attention?” Venk asked.
The group was all sitting around the hearth eating their midday meal which consisted of cold mutton and hard crusty bread. Several fallen logs had been dragged over to serve as seats.
“There’s no other way that I’m aware of,” Tristofer admitted. He was hot, sore, and quite ready to take a nap. He hadn’t had this much activity in the last five years combined.
“Then we must find one of these flowers,” Breslin decided. “Who’s got the spells Shardwyn gave us?”
“I do. I’ve got them in my pack,” Venk answered.
“Get them, will you? I think it’s time we use one of them.”
Curious, Venk stood up and went to his pack. Retrieving the small silk bag, Venk handed it to Breslin. The bag was opened and upended on the ground in front of the hearth. Selecting the white sphere with the symbol of the quill on it, Breslin gathered up the other four spells and dropped them back into the bag and handed it back. Venk pointed at the sphere Breslin was still holding.
“That’s the messenger spell. Who are you going to contact?”
“My father. He wants this quest to succeed just as much as we do. Therefore we’re going to make it his problem to find one of these blasted flowers.”
Venk and Athos both grinned at the same time in the same manner. Each caught sight of the other and the two brothers gently clinked their axes together.
Breslin closed his fist tightly around the spell and mentally instructed it to deliver the message to the correct recipient.
Father, we are at Lake Alpin. We have discovered that there’s a strong chance nixies still exist, but we must summon them. We need an orikai flower. It’s a purple flower with three petals. Gold stamen. We need this as soon as possible.
The sphere grew warm, surprising Breslin into opening his hand. The sphere flashed brightly and then vanished.
“That’s just great. Now I’m seeing spots everywhere.”
“We all are,” Venk complained.
“Now what?” Athos wanted to know. “How long do we have to wait?”
“As long as it takes,” his brother told him. “We have no idea how long it’ll take for Maelnar to find one of these accursed flowers. If he isn’t familiar with local pontal in this region then it might take him a while.”
An hour and a half later, there was another flash of light, but this time a small wooden box had appeared and was sitting on the ground in front of them all. Breslin knelt down to retrieve the box. Standing slowly, he opened the tiny chest to reveal a striking purple flower with three elongated petals ringed with white. And a note.
Be sure you know what you’re doing, son. You have only one shot at this as this is the only known orikai flower in existence in all of Lentari. The owner was very reluctant to part with it. On a side note, Shardwyn had to promise all kinds of favors in order to obtain it, so for that, I’m in your eternal debt!
“Now that we have it, what do we do with it?” Athos asked.
Tristofer was at a loss.
“I’m not sure. If I were to offer an educated guess, I would say that since nixies are water sprites, we should place the flower on the water.”
Athos reached for the wood chest, intent on throwing it and the flower out into the lake when Breslin suddenly twisted to his right and blocked the outstretched hand.
“Let’s let Lukas do it. He’s the one with the mark.”
Breslin held the chest down low so that Lukas could reach in and extract the flower. Holding the delicate purple flower by its blue stem, Lukas walked to the water’s edge and gently placed the offering on the water’s surface.
As if pulled by an unknown current, the flower floated out about fifteen feet. It rotated lazily as it floated away from the shore, as if guided by an unknown hand beneath the surface. After spinning about for a few more rotations, the flower silently slipped beneath the surface and disappeared from sight.
“Now what?” Athos demanded. He had expected something to happen, whether an immediate reaction from the nixies, an appearance, anything! But alas, the water was as still as a windless sea.
“That was a complete waste of –”
Athos trailed off as he noticed ripples had formed in the water. Beginning at the point where the flower had sunk, tiny waves radiated outwards, and eventually caused the water to lap against the shore’s edge.
“Look!” Lukas was pointing out at the water.
A tiny head had appeared at the center of the ripples and was staring directly at them, unblinking. It had jet black hair, pale skin, and striking blue eyes.
“We mean you no harm,” Breslin began diplomatically, taking a step towards the lake.
The head vanished beneath the waves.
“Nice going,” Athos remarked as he gave Breslin a light punch on the arm. Breslin punched him back.
“Like you could have done any better,” Breslin angrily retorted, retreating backwards a few steps.
“Quiet!” Venk snapped. “It’s back!”
Sure enough, the nixie’s head had broken the surface of the water and was again staring at them. Going on a hunch, Lukas gently approached the water’s edge and lifted his jerkin to expose his back. He carefully turned around so that the creature in the water could see the reason why they were there.
The nixie moved closer to shore and gripped a partially submerged broken tree. It pulled itself up so that it w
as mostly out of the water and stared at the boy’s back.
“Well, there’s no doubt about it. That one is a female,” Athos told his brother.
The nixie had glossy green scales covering its torso but even though the scales sparkled iridescently, it couldn’t disguise the womanly curves of its gender. Athos was right. This nixie was female.
Tristofer, who remained mired in place, pointed an arm at the nixie and whispered excitedly to Breslin.
“Look! There at the base of her neck. Do you see her gills? She has six gills total, three on each side. This is remarkable!”
Breslin, determined to make a good first impression for all dwarfkind, stepped forward again, arms open in what he hoped was a welcoming gesture. The nixie bolted from her perch on the sunken tree and dove back into the water.
Venk turned to Breslin and angrily smacked his right shoulder, spinning him around until the two were face to face.
“Stop doing that! We’re here to establish contact, not to frighten it away! Get back over here and let’s see if it comes back.”
As soon as Breslin and Venk moved away from the water, the ripples appeared again and once more the female nixie was eyeing them from the safety of the water.
After giving the adult dwarfs a speculative look, the nixie turned her attention back to Lukas. The underling pulled his tunic up and squatted down near the water’s edge.
“Can you help me?” Lukas asked the water sprite. “Does this mean anything to you?”
The nixie’s head dipped below the water’s surface only to reappear moments later right beside him. Venk flinched as the nixie raised herself out of the water and approached his son. Breslin put a restraining hand on Venk’s left shoulder while Athos put a hand on the other.
Delicate webbed fingers gently touched the hammer in the crest on Lukas’ back. After a moment’s hesitation, a string of chirps and clicks erupted from the nixie’s mouth.
Lukas smiled at his father. “She sounds just like a kyte, doesn’t she?”
More ripples appeared in the lake as first one, then two, and then many more nixies surfaced. Several dozen sets of blue eyes all focused on the small group of dwarves.
“This is starting to resemble a very bad idea,” Athos grumbled to himself. He had set his axe up against his pack which was, unfortunately, at least twenty feet away from him.
The first nixie turned to look behind her and made another series of clicking noises. One male nixie, with just a few streaks of black through his otherwise gray hair, swam steadily closer. The old nixie joined his much younger counterpart near the shore and gazed with rapt fascination at the mark on Lukas’ back. The male was motionless for a few moments as it studied the mark.
“What do you seek?”
The voice was high and shrill, barely resembling anything more than a squeak. The voice could have been made by either the male or female, it was so high. However, the dwarves knew from the way the older male was regarding Lukas that it was the one who had spoken.
“I’m so very pleased to meet you!” Tristofer began. “I’d like to –”
“I’ll handle this,” Breslin gruffly interrupted. He faced the nixie and tried to soften his expression so that he didn’t appear threatening. “We are on a quest. As you can see from the boy’s back, we are searching for –”
“You seek the object,” the male interrupted, still addressing Lukas.
Breslin shrugged. “I was going to say answers, but let’s go with that. What object are you talking about?”
The nixie didn’t say anything but instead waited for Lukas to respond.
“Ask him what object he’s talking about,” Breslin whispered to Lukas.
“What object?” Lukas asked as he dropped his jerkin back down and turned around so that he was facing the water. He sank down and sat cross legged on the ground.
The old nixie pointed at Lukas’ back.
“You want to see the mark?” Lukas asked, reaching for the hem of his shirt. “I can show it to you again if you’d like.”
“The mark of Nar is upon you.”
The four adult dwarves looked excitedly at one another.
Lukas nodded at the nixie. “Can you tell me anything about it?”
The water sprite gazed with fascination at the boy’s back. “It’s Narian.”
“Thanks for letting us know. Er, will you tell us more about the object you were talking about from before?”
The old male turned to look back at several of his followers and uttered a string of nonsensical chirps and clicks. Half a dozen of the closest nixies vanished beneath the surface.
“We will give you the object in exchange for your offering. We knew one flower remained, but had no idea where it was or how to bring it here. You have done this for us. We are grateful.”
“What’s so special about that flower?” Breslin wanted to know. The old nixie continued to ignore him.
Figuring he should ask any question that Breslin voiced, Lukas repeated the question to the nixie.
“We cannot stay on dry land. If we are caught outside the water for too long we become a flower. An orikai flower. The only way to restore a nixie to its former self is to submerge the flower back into its native waters. You have done this for us. There are no more orikai, no more trapped nixies. You have freed the last. It is for this reason we are in your debt.”
“Did you know that?” Breslin whispered to Tristofer. “About the flowers?”
“As I said before,” Tristofer whispered back, “pontal are not my specialty. So no, I didn’t know that.”
“What can you tell us about the object you’re giving us?” Breslin gently asked from his position away from the water.
The male nixie finally turned his head and made eye contact with him.
“It is an object that has been resting in our lake for many centuries. It has a Narian symbol on it. The boy’s back shares this symbol.”
There were several congratulatory arm shakes as Venk, Athos, and even Tristofer, all gave each other friendly pats on the back.
The six nixies that had departed resurfaced, struggling to lift an object between them. More nixies swarmed to their aid as collectively they lifted a surprisingly small four inch by four inch square metal plate that was no more than an inch thick. The metal object was plunked down into the soft mud at the water’s edge before all the nixies save the old male disappeared back into the water.
Lukas reached into the water to retrieve the metal plate but was surprised at how heavy it was. He ended up using both hands to pry it off the ground and then struggled to stand back up. His father and uncle were next to him in a flash. Venk took the piece of metal from his son while Athos managed to snag Lukas’ belt to keep him from tipping over into the water once he became off balanced.
Venk reached back into the water and swished the metal plate back and forth a few times so that the muck and grime from the lake bed were washed away. Curious, he stared down at the object in his hands.
The metal was the color of tarnished bronze and was far denser than anything he had ever encountered. Something this size should have been far lighter and much easier to handle. It was perfectly smooth on all surfaces except for one corner, the lower left depending on how you held it. That corner depicted the Narian crest. The all too familiar upside down hammer met his eyes.
Venk squinted at the metal. What was it made of? This one piece alone was actually heavier than his largest hammer, but nowhere near the size of it. What was it used for?
“What do you have there?” his brother asked him, coming to stand beside him.
“Do your eyes not work? It’s just a square piece of metal.”
Breslin and Tristofer joined him moments later and together they inspected the object.
“Thank you very much,” Lukas told the male nixie, who was still watching from the safety of the water.
Surprised, the adults turned back to
the lake and watched as the nixie gave them all an impish smile. Moments later the old male returned to his watery realm below.
As soon as Lukas joined his father and saw the crest, his back began to tingle. He giggled as the sensations traveling up and down his spine tickled him mercilessly.
“What’s the matter with you?” Athos asked his nephew. “What’s so funny?”
“Something is tickling my back!”
“Pull up your shirt,” Tristofer ordered. “We must see the mark!”
Lukas pulled up his jerkin once more and rotated until he was facing away from the adults. Venk leaned close and held the metal plate next to his son’s back. The top left section of the Questor’s Mark, the part that had started to come into focus earlier in the day, rippled outward and became legible. What they saw drew gasps of alarm and a few curses.
A two-headed dragon, with its long leathery wings partially spread, was clearly visible. In its front left claw it clutched a gem.
“Wizards be damned!”
Chapter 5 – Twice Is Not As Nice
Lost City Page 18