by L. EE
“What does Mur Eyah mean?” Andy threw the question out to no one in particular.
From in front, Mermin slowed and turned. “Mur Eyah means ‘pwovision shall be made.’”
“Why’s it called that?” Hannah quickly questioned.
“There are tales told of twavelers in need, stumbling upon the slopes of that mountain. Inexplicably, their pwoblem fixed itself, almost as if magic played a part.”
“How do you mean?” Alden pursued.
The company halted as Mermin continued his explanantion. “One account tells of a patwol being chased by savage werewolves and taking wefuge in a cave in that mountain. No sooner had the gwoup entered the cave, the enemy nipping at their heels, than the werewolves mysteriously lost their scent. The patwol weported they could see the werewolves lingering about the cave entrance, sniffing and clawing, but the pack never entered the cave. Finally, the pack gave up and left. This is not an isolated incident.”
“Maybe werewolves are afraid of caves,” Andy suggested.
“Werewolves live in dark caves, Andy. And they have an excellent sense of smell,” Mermin countered.
“Oh,” Andy replied, filing the story for future exploration.
An hour later, only the sounds of huffing and puffing, scuffled leaves, and nature itself broke the stillness. The trek had grown increasingly steep, the exertion and monotony dulling everyone’s senses. The company rejoiced as they crested the mountain. But as they did, the birds went quiet. Andy thought he heard an unnatural noise to the right of the path. The forest seemed to hold its breath, waiting.
Is the bellicose back?
Andy drew Methuselah and assumed his ready position, motioning Sergeant Gavin on their right flank to do the same. Hannah and Alden saw Andy and silently drew their weapons. Sergeant Albin, Captain Ladilas, and the King took defensive postures, as did Mermin in the rear. They waited more than five minutes in tense silence before a group of fifty or more zolt charged from the dense foliage, brandishing swords and whirling war hammers above their beady-eyed heads.
Andy and his companions engaged. He and Sergeant Gavin slashed their way toward the middle of the enemy, protecting each other’s back. Out of the corner of his eye, Andy glimpsed Alden and Sergeant Albin teamed, working their way through the left flank. Andy brought Methuselah’s blade down on a zolt to his left, freeing its head from its scrawny shoulders. A stab to Andy’s right brought two more of the enemy down. Sergeant Gavin had equal success as they plowed a path through the middle of their adversaries.
Andy noticed movement to his right and saw Hannah and Captain Ladilas pulverizing the right flank. Any doubts he might have harbored as to her sword skills vanished instantly; she was definitely Cadfael’s daughter. A bird-man approached, ready to decapitate the captain. Hannah spun and with one quick, downward slice the creature slumped over, dead.
Andy watched as three zolt squawked and hurtled through the air, gangly arms flailing. They smashed into a thick tree ten yards away and fell limply to the ground. Tracing their trajectory, Andy realized Mermin had used magic to produce the impressive result. Father had Mermin’s back, brandishing his sword and cutting down three more of the enemy. It looked as though they had fought together before.
The vulture ranks thinned as Andy and Sergeant Gavin continued slashing and jabbing. A meaty zolt charged Andy, whirling a war hammer over its head. Andy barely dodged injury, ducking at the last second. Having committed to the attack with an extended arm, the bird-man left an exposed side that Andy quickly used to his advantage. Methuselah found flesh as the enemy slid past and slumped to the ground.
As the fighting continued, Andy’s shoulder began to hurt and he found it increasingly difficult to slash with any degree of power. He glanced over and noticed Captain Ladilas wearing a pained expression as well. With ten zolt remaining, the four pairs intensified their defense, taking the enemy down with determination.
When Andy saw no bird-men remained, he and Sergeant Gavin stepped over and around the dead to join the others. He sprawled on the ground, his chest heaving. After several minutes, he sat up and inspected his extremities. With the exception of a small gash to the back of his hand, he was not injured. Everyone else came through unscathed and let their guard down as they rejoiced.
Without warning, several dozen vultures appeared through the fog, landed, and instantly transformed into zolt. They moved in quickly, separating the group and binding their hands with heavy rope. The apparent leader commanded his troops to secure the captives’ weapons and line them up single-file.
“March!” the leader bellowed when they finished.
Andy felt spearheads and swords poking him in the back and on his arms as they struggled up the mountain. I feel like a pig being led to slaughter.
After nearly half an hour, they reached the only flat clearing Andy had seen in the area. Across the muddy plateau sat a weakened, seven-headed dragon. Its four wings flapped lethargically as it sat on the thick, rotting trunk of a fallen tree. As Andy had seen in his dream, it wore a patch over the left eye on each of its heads.
The zolt shoved the group across the clearing to within ten feet of the beast. No one uttered a word.
“So you have found them, Dagon,” Abaddon noted, three of his heads slowly bobbing.
“Yes, my liege,” the vulture-warrior confirmed, bowing.
“Very good.” Abaddon paused and scrutinized each member of the party before continuing. “Hard to believe these vermin hold the key to my longevity.” Three of his heads spat on the ground.
Noticing Andy studying him, the beast laughed and roared, “A sniveling peasant boy for the chosen one.” He left the words hanging for several seconds, then sneered, “Now why would a king, his wizard, three children, and a meager security detail be wandering around in the woods?”
No one responded, so Dagon approached the King and shouted, “He asked you a question. Answer him!”
“The same could be asked of you,” the King responded.
“Bring him here,” the dragon demanded, five of his heads motioning toward the King.
Dagon cut the King loose from the group and shoved him toward Abaddon. He fell onto his hands and knees in the mud, and Andy bolted forward until the rope connecting him to Captain Ladilas and Alden prevented further progress.
Abaddon looked at Andy and derided, “Such a shame you can’t help your king.”
Andy felt his face grow hot and his nostrils flared. He barely managed to hold his tongue.
The seven-headed dragon laughed and two of its mouths mocked in unison, “That’s right. Hold your tongue boy, or my soldiers will hold it for you.”
The King stood, his head held high, his face expressionless.
Four of the beast’s heads studied him, moving up and down like snakes before a charmer.
The King didn’t flinch, only stared straight ahead.
“Take it!” the monster at last commanded.
Andy bit his tongue as Dagon walked over and took his dagger to the front of the King’s tunic, slicing it down the middle. Again, his father didn’t flinch.
“Where is it?” all seven heads managed to roar despite the dragon’s weakened condition.
The King remained silent.
“Answer me!” demanded three heads in harmony.
Dagon brought his dagger up under Father’s chin and growled, “You will answer.”
“Where’s what?” the King asked.
“The Stone of Athanasia,” two of the beast’s mouths rumbled.
Father did not respond, and the servant cut into his neck with the edge of his dagger, drawing a trickle of blood.
Abaddon scowled at the King for several minutes, at an impasse. “Kill him!” the beast finally roared.
Before Dagon could act, a shrill voice sounded over the clearing. “Tut, tut, tut. You don’t want to do that,” it cackled. “Do you not remember what I told you? If you kill him, the stone’s loyalties can never be changed.”
A
baddon briefly considered Imogenia’s interruption.
The servant stared at his sovereign, awaiting orders. Finally, Abaddon rolled all fourteen of his eyes and waved Dagon away from the King.
“I need energy. Convert them,” two heads instructed in stereo.
Dagon shoved everyone closer to the dragon and commanded, “Kneel and pledge allegiance to your new sovereign!”
No one moved, so four zolt warriors approached and whacked everyone in the back of the knees, forcing them to collapse onto the muddy ground. With everyone now kneeling, Dagon repeated his demand. Again, no one uttered a word. Andy closed his eyes, praying he wouldn’t be transformed into one of these hideous creatures or worse, turned into one of the stone statues he’d seen in his nightmares. Still, if he died, it would be with those he loved.
“Fine, you have chosen your own fates,” the servant barked.
Please, no. Please, no.
In an evil rasp, Abaddon chanted a phrase.
Andy squeezed his eyes tight.
The dragon repeated his utterance, more loudly.
Andy peeked open one eye as he heard the incantation a third time.
Abaddon looked about, furious. Green vapor poured from three of his heads as the other four slumped.
“Why isn’t it working?” the beast complained weakly. Andy knew the complaint would have been a thunderous roar had Abaddon not been so sluggish.
It didn’t work! It didn’t work! Whew! But why? Is the stone still protecting us even though it’s implanted under Father’s skin?Was my guess right?
“Get up!” Dagon commanded.
Once standing, five zolt shoved the company to the edge of the clearing where eight poles the thickness of mature trees were sunken into the ground ten feet apart. The soldiers cut the ropes connecting the prisoners and moved each to a post, tying their hands behind their backs and their legs together. Gags ensured no one would talk.
“Looks like you have a bit of a problem,” Imogenia taunted.
Abaddon didn’t reply.
“I might know a way to help you. In exchange for—” she stopped.
“In exchange for what?” two heads queried.
“Glad to see you’re listening,” the ghost crooned. “In exchange for the life of Prince Andrew.”
Father’s eyes met Andy’s across the semicircle.
“Prince Andrew?” Abaddon questioned.
“Indeed. My brother discovered the boy is his son,” Imogenia explained.
The corners of five of Abaddon’s mouths curved up in a smile. “Really? Interesting. Very interesting.“ He paused a moment, considering. “But surely this news, while welcome, is not what you had in mind to strengthen me? I need a cure!”
“I know a way for you to be healed so that you are regenerated and whole again, with no marks or effects from the boy’s sword.”
“How?” Abaddon hissed.
“The boy’s life or I won’t say.”
The beast considered the trade, calculating, before it finally replied, “Only after your cure works will I slay the boy.”
Andy glanced at Alden and Hannah, their expressions worried.
“Is that a promise?” Imogenia pushed.
“It is as much as I will say,” Abaddon rasped. “Now, the cure.”
Satisfied for the moment, Imogenia’s silvery form floated across the clearing, stopping in front of Andy. “You shall be mine!” she sneered.
Andy struggled against his bonds to no avail, and despite the gag, he noised, “Yuu unn uuu un!” trying to hide his terror.
Imogenia cackled and turned toward Abaddon.
“The cure,” the spirit began, “is a unicorn horn. Curiously enough, that is why this group is traveling. They seek such a horn to break the curse.” The spirit’s voice sounded sickeningly sweet.
“Unicorns? There are no unicorns in these parts!” three heads intoned.
“Oh, but there are. The boy overheard a group of them talking not more than two days ago thanks to a dragon’s tapping into their conversation.”
“I see.” Abaddon cleared two of his throats and sighed deeply. “And how will a unicorn horn cure me?”
“Unicorns are pure and undefiled. When ingested, unicorn horn flows through the body and mends all imperfections. Your ability to shapeshift, not to mention your sight, will be restored.”
“Bring me this cure,” Abaddon growled.
“I will need the assistance of two of your warriors, for I cannot carry it, as you well know.”
“Gozler, Maladoca, assist her!” Dagon commanded.
Two long-armed, beady-eyed soldiers slunk forward and saluted.
“Follow me,” Imogenia instructed.
What am I going to do? As soon as they return, I’m toast!
Andy glanced around the semicircle. Everyone watched him with concerned expressions. He tested the bonds holding his arms again. Secure. He twisted his wrists, but like the last ten tries, he found no room to move.
Calming his thoughts, he finally remembered the gold key still in his pouch. They hadn’t taken that. A glimmer of hope formed.
Please untie my bonds, he willed.
He twisted his wrists again. It was working. He felt a little space!
That’s it, loosen the ropes.
Again he swiveled his wrists, but the ropes remained too tight to squeeze out of.
Come on, faster! Does the key have to be closer to Methuselah? he wondered, his panic growing. He eyed the group’s weapons where they lay in a heap on the ground at Abaddon’s feet.
Calm down, Andy told himself and continued to twist his hands with mixed success. While he gained a bit more room to move, his skin grew raw. He looked around the group. Everyone wore looks of concentration and he noticed slight movement in their shoulders; they all worked to free themselves.
Andy didn’t know how much time elapsed, but too soon Imogenia and the bird-men returned bearing a white, cone-shaped object about a foot long.
The ghost fumed, “Your men rushed the unicorns against my orders! For a unicorn horn to work, it must be given freely, to a maiden. They took it by force. I will not be responsible if it does not cure you!”
Abaddon laughed maniacally. “Oh, but you will, you will. For I will not kill the boy unless this miracle cure of yours works.”
“Bring it to me!” the beast commanded his men.
Don’t work! Please don’t work! Andy begged.
The long-armed warriors handed their commander the horn and he took seven greedy bites, one with each of his mouths.
The guy’s a slob, Andy thought as he watched the dragon devour the antidote.
Please don’t work! Please don’t work!
Everyone stared, curious. Five minutes. Ten minutes. Twenty minutes passed. Nothing.
“Unicorn horn will cure you!” Imogenia insisted after yet another ten minutes passed with no change.
Nodding four of his heads toward Hannah, Abaddon chided, “It looks like the maiden will have to retrieve another one then.”
Hannah glared at the beast, her jaw set.The rest of the group watched in horror as Dagon freed her wrists, then cut the rope from around her legs. It took Hannah only a second to rid herself of the gag.
“Move!” the warrior demanded, pushing her toward Abaddon.
Hannah walked across the clearing to within ten feet of the beast.
“You will find the unicorns and bring me back a horn that will cure me!”
“And if I don’t?”
The dragon flapped its wings weakly. “If you don’t, I will kill your King, his wizard, and the rest of your company one by one in the most painful way possible,” Abaddon leered.
“Fine. Then I’ll need help. I’m not going to go bumbling about in these woods all by myself. Who knows what’s out there. And I’m certainly not going with your soldiers!”
Still smiling, the beast said, “Very well. The chosen one will accompany you to ensure your safety.”
Imogenia flared. �
�What? You can’t let the boy loose!”
“Oh, but I can. He will return.”
“You don’t know that!”
“The boy’s father is our guest. He will come back, I can assure you.”
“I want Alden to join us too,” Hannah insisted.
“You’re hardly in a position to make demands,” Imogenia reproved.
Abaddon chuckled. “If it would please the maiden, your friend will go. Release them!”
Andy and Alden joined Hannah before the dragon, rubbing their sore wrists.
“We need our weapons to defend ourselves should we encounter enemies,” Alden said flatly.
Abaddon laughed again. “It’s a good thing I’m in a good mood. Dagon, give them their weapons.”
The trio buckled their weapons belts about their waists as Hannah inquired, “In what direction did you find the unicorns?”
“North,” Imogenia huffed.
“It will take us longer to go and return since we can’t fly,” Hannah declared.
“Very well. You have five days before we will begin toying with our guests in ways you may find…upsetting,” Dagon informed.
“Five days! That’s hardly time to find the unicorns, let alone return,” Alden insisted.
“Fine,” Abaddon interjected, his heads wagging. “If this unicorn horn does what our ghost friend insists, what’s another five days?” The dragon addressed Hannah. “You have ten days, fair maiden. Will there be anything else?”
Hannah looked at Andy and Alden.
“Food,” Alden insisted.
A vulture-man waddled over and handed Andy one of their backpacks with provisions.
“One pack of food will ensure you hurry,” Dagon laughed.
“We need blankets too,” Alden added.
The bird-warrior, his patience expired, purged two more packs of food and threw them at the travelers.
Andy looked back at Father as they departed in the lengthening shadows of early evening. Father nodded his head and the corners of his mouth rose around the gag.
“We’ll be back soon,” Andy promised, a knot forming in his stomach.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN