Lord Gregory had to act quickly to keep General Escott from manning an unnecessary defense against the visitor. Borg was no enemy, but even still, a fifty-man mounted troop was dispatched to escort him through the streets of Dreen to the modest castle the monarchy was residing in while the dwarves built the new palace. Mikahl imagined the wolves were worrying the newly promoted general and the people of the city to death. A demon tore through Dreen only three turns of the moon earlier and destroyed a score of homes and thrice as many people. Borg wasn’t nearly as big or as ugly as the demon had been, but he towered over the Red City’s low buildings just the same. There was no doubt he was frightening the citizens. It couldn’t be helped. Mikahl knew the people would relax after they saw him welcome Borg, though. He smiled as the excitement of the reunion coursed through him.
Mikahl hurried outside to the castle’s entry yard, which was really just a glorified horse pen. The knot of armed men forming up outside staggered him.
“Commander Lyle, please get these men out of here,” Mikahl ordered.
“But, Your Highness,” the man argued carefully. “General Escott said—”
“I don’t care what he said,” Mikahl snapped. “Borg is my friend, and no more threat to us than a ladybug.”
“But the wolves?”
“The wolves are even closer to my heart than the giant is!” Mikahl’s voice betrayed displeasure at being argued with over the matter. Already he could see the giant a few streets over, striding quickly closer. A sack holding something the size of a barrel keg was thrown over his shoulder.
“Out of my sight now,” Mikahl yelled. “All of you, and if any of you so much as thinks of harming one of those wolves, you’ll be pulling the Lord of Lokar’s cart around with Ra’Gren!”
Just then, a massive white-furred wolf leapt the wall that surrounded the castle yard and charged full speed at the High King. To their credit, at least a dozen of the archers scattered among the soldiers drew arrows and aimed at the wolves. Luckily for them, no one loosed. Even when the great wolf’s huge paws landed on the High King’s shoulders and sent him onto his back, they held their arrows. Commander Lyle was suddenly terrified. The shoulder of the wolf that was strolling leisurely past him came up to his chin. His hand went to his sword hilt but stopped when he saw Mikahl fighting away nothing more than slavering tongues and wagging tails. The warning growl of another wolf directed at the archers snapped the commander into action. “Double time it out of here, now,” he screamed, and the men started complying.
Within seconds three wolves were crowded over Mikahl, all wagging away excitedly. He spoke loving greetings to them while three other great wolves came over the fence and paced around the yard, watching their pack mates.
The two gatehouse guards looked stupefied. They wouldn’t have been able to stop the wolves from getting into the castle yard had they tried their best, and they knew it. Then a gigantic boot, with a wolf-skull for a buckle, stepped down before them. One guard fell to the ground unconscious and the other ran into their weather shelter and shut the door with a bang. It sounded as if he pulled the bolt shut after himself. General Escott and his fifty-man escort were left outside the locked gate, unable to even see inside, much less defend the king if it became necessary.
“King Mikahl,” Borg boomed and bowed at his waist politely. “King Aldar sends his regards. The wolves somehow managed to get him to let them come with me.”
“Hey, Borg,” Mikahl called, trying to sit up. “The bark lizard cloak looks great.” Far better than the patchwork goatskin cloak he’d last seen the giant wearing. Borg still wore the menacing-looking wolf skulls on his belt buckle and boot shins, though, and his tree trunk staff looked to have a few new dark, sticky stains on its end.
“Haw,” the giant barked out a glum laugh. “It does look good, but it makes me sad when I think about what Loudin lost for bringing the skin to me.”
“Aye.” Mikahl took a moment to remember his friend and the horrible death he had found in the Giant Mountains.
“I brought you a present,” Borg said, dropping the oversize patchwork sack to the ground with a dull thud. A putrid smell roiled through the air. “I’d rather present it to both you and the Lion Lord, if he is around.”
Mikahl finally got to his feet, but stayed where he was scratching the three great wolves behind the ears in turn. “It stinks,” he observed of the sack, while wondering what was inside it.
“You should be glad you weren’t the one carrying it for days and days,” the giant chuckled. “And this is from Hyden Skyler.” He held forth a scroll that looked tiny in his huge hand.
“Hyden?” Mikahl froze, feeling a sudden wave of hope wash over him. “He’s really alive? You’ve seen him?”
“He is,” Borg answered simply. “He told me about the giant you two found in the Dragon Queen’s dungeon. I wish you had killed her and her wizards more slowly.”
“Aye.” Mikahl nodded his agreement as he put the scroll in his pocket for later.
He couldn’t remember the name spoken by the emaciated giant they had found. He had it written down, though, and had been planning on making a journey into the Giant Mountains to tell Borg. A pang of guilt came over him. It should have already been done. He dropped his head in shame. “Who was she?” he asked.
“My sister,” Borg replied. “You did her honor by avenging her death, Mikahl. I have brought you a small token of my appreciation. Is Lord Gregory here?”
“Aye,” Mikahl said. “I’ll send for him. My new palace is being built with rooms to accommodate your people. I’m sorry I can’t invite you into this one. Would you like some refreshments?”
“A keg of ale will suffice for now,” Borg said. “Maybe a boar, or a doe, for later.”
Mikahl laughed. “I’ll have someone cart something around from the kitchen for you.”
He told a steward to fetch Borg a keg and to summon Lord Gregory to the yard, then he jogged the short distance to the kitchen himself. He commanded the cooks to prepare a feast. The head cook looked at him crazily when he told them to roast three full boars instead of just one, but he didn’t dare argue with his king. As Mikahl was returning, he heard Borg’s booming voice outside. He stepped back around to find Lady Trella and Queen Rosa speaking to Borg from the second story balcony of Lady Trella’s apartment. Rosa giggled girlishly and gave Mikahl a wave, and then the two women disappeared back inside the castle.
“Who is Pin, and why does he seek the fountain of Leif Repline?” Borg asked Mikahl when he strode back into the yard. “I think your queen spelled me,” the giant continued, “...for I just promised I would look out for this person while he makes his way through our land.”
“His name is Phen,” Mikahl laughed. “She calls him Pin. He and his dwarven pal, Master Oarly, are fools of the first order. Phen’s is a long story which I’ll share with you over supper. I’ve ordered a feast prepared in your honor.”
“The whole city of Dreen will want to celebrate once they see the gift I’ve brought you,” Borg boasted.
Just then, Lord Gregory came out of the castle and smiled broadly up at Borg. “Well met, Southern Guardian,” the Lion Lord said, using Borg’s official title. “I hope my warning about the loosed demon reached your people in time.”
Borg nodded and smiled, then picked up the sack he’d brought. He dumped the hideous demon’s head out of the bag onto the castle yard, the demon that had recently torn through Dreen. His big face split into a huge grin and the whole pack of great wolves howled out in pride.
Chapter 4
The light that carried through the sea into the Serpent’s Eye from outside was fading as the tide rose. Phen cast a spell. A small sphere of light the size of an apple appeared in his open palm then slowly rose and hovered at a point about a foot over his head. He looked around the cavern. Oarly was standing with his feet planted. He was weaving slightly to and fro with the slack bow line of the dinghy held loosely in his hand. Most of his bulbous face was
buried in his tangled beard.
“Oarly,” Phen said a little loudly. “Tie the line around that stalagmite and let’s make ready.”
The dwarf jumped at the mention of his name, as if he’d been in a daze, but after a snarl he settled back into his standing stupor. Phen huffed with frustration and then bent down and picked up a loose pebble. He threw it rather hard and it bounced off the side of Oarly’s head. The impact sounded like the thump of a ripe melon. Oarly rubbed the spot absently and sneered at Phen. Three heartbeats later the hairy stump took a step back and yelped loudly. “By Doon, lad,” Oarly rubbed his head briskly now. “What was that for?”
“You’re drunk,” Phen returned. “Now tie off the skiff.”
“I’m not even close to drunk, lad,” Oarly boasted as he finally tied the line. When he stood back up he pulled his axe from his back and puffed his wide chest out. “Now where’s this serpent?”
Phen made an expression of pure terror and pointed beyond Oarly into the darkness. “It’s... It’s right behind you.” His voice was trembling with fear.
Oarly looked at him for a long moment and then let out a huff. “Bah! You’ll not get this dwarf that easily.”
Phen smirked and grabbed a burlap sack out of the boat. Oarly glanced back over his shoulder, just in case.
The natural-formed cave looked much the same as it had the last time they’d been in it. The large, rough chamber had two passages leading up and away from the sea pool that took up nearly half of its rocky bottom.
Phen started down the smaller right-hand tunnel. As soon as he was a dozen paces ahead, Oarly pulled a new flask from his boot and took a deep swig. Phen just laughed at him and carried on. A wave made a loud smacking-sucking sound against the rocks as the tide side seal broke in a wave’s valley. Phen laughed because the sound sent Oarly stumbling quickly to catch up with him.
The narrow tunnel was about a hundred paces deep. Phen knelt at the end of it, looking curiously at the ancient skeleton on the floor. It was that of the elf he called Loak, whose ring and journal had helped Phen track down and destroy the Silver Skull of Zorellin.
He thought about all that had led to his being turned into a statue. Only Claret’s powerful magic had prevented him from remaining an immobile monument for eternity. He and the dragon had more or less saved the day at the battle of O’Dakahn. Phen achieved his goal of becoming a hero like Hyden Hawk and King Mikahl, though he hated passionately the name he’d earned for himself. He hadn’t ever intended to be known to the people of the realm as the Marble Boy. Oarly wouldn’t let him forget the title.
Phen couldn’t wait to get his pigment back. He hoped that Claret’s suspicions about the pool in the Giant Mountains were founded. It was a long and treacherous journey to undertake, and there was no certainty it would help, but it was a risk he was willing to chance. He would do anything to rid himself of the stony skin, and the title Marble Boy, and besides that, he just wanted to be plain old Phen again.
“All right, ease back to where we can see the entry chamber,” he said. “Once the serpent slithers out to feed, I’ll put on the ring and go get the emerald. Then I’ll come back here.” He squeezed past Oarly and started back out of the tunnel. “All you have to do is warn me if the serpent returns.”
“I’ll do more than warn ye, lad,” Oarly bragged drunkenly. “I’ll have that sea snake on the fire when you get back.”
“Aye,” Phen laughed. “Fight the beast, if you want to, just be sure and warn me if it returns.”
Back near where the tunnel opened onto the main chamber, Phen dropped the contents of his sack out onto the floor. A small bundle of dried meat, a wheel of cheese, and a cord of dried wood spilled out of it. Oarly snatched up the rations while Phen used a flaming finger spell to start the dwarf a fire. Once he was done, he extinguished his magical light. Unlike the dwarves who had returned from the underground cities to aid in the recent battles, who could see as well in the dark as they could in the sun, Oarly had been among the dwarves who’d stayed on the surface and lived in Xwarda. Without the fire’s light, or Phen’s orb, he wouldn’t be able to see at all.
With the fire lit, Phen stood at the mouth of the tunnel, waiting for the serpent to leave.
“Here,” Oarly handed Phen a long dagger. “Take this, just in case.”
Phen looked at it. It reminded him of the dagger Hyden Hawk had given him before they went into the blue dragon’s lair. He took the weapon with a nod of thanks. If he hadn’t lost Hyden’s dagger on a zard ship, at least a thousand lives could have been saved. He could have run it through the Dragon Queen’s heart before she let loose all those demons into the world.
He made to slip this new knife into his belt, but realized that his clothes, and his belt, were as stony as he was. There were only two things on his person that he could remove: Loak’s ring, and the medallion that held Claret’s dragon tear, and even they looked made from marble.
A scraping sound drew his attention to the other tunnel.
“What is it that I’m supposed to do?” Oarly asked with a blank expression on his face.
Phen turned and looked at him severely. The dwarf grinned devilishly back at him.
Phen shook his head and went through the motions of sucking in a breath. A green phosphorescent glow was wavering at the mouth of the larger tunnel. Soon, the large viper-like head was hovering above the floor as the thing’s bulk slid out of the opening. The room was filled with the strange green-tinted glow. The head darted instantly toward the mouth of the smaller tunnel, where Phen stood. Only the fact that the opening was smaller than the thing’s skull kept it from snatching Phen up and swallowing him. Its milky, pupil-less eyes narrowed peevishly. A forked tongue shot out and flickered across Phen’s face. Oarly was holding his battle axe’s blade up over his face to keep his eyes from settling on the creature.
Phen felt the tingling of the dragon tear medallion around his neck. He could see it in the reflection of the serpent’s eyes, showering out a fountain of prismatic sparkles. The flickering tongue shot out at the dragon’s tear and tasted the air around it. For a long moment the serpent held its head there, as if it were deciding what to do about the intruders. Then it finally eased back. Phen glimpsed the rows of palm-sized suction cups that ran the length of its undulating body as the triangular head moved away. Only when the thing was over the pool did the serpent take its strange gaze off of Phen. When it did, it slithered right into the water and its glow eased quickly out of the cavern and through the now submerged opening. It had to be a hundred paces long from tip to tail. Phen let out the breath he’d been holding and slipped Loak’s ring onto his finger. Immediately, he faded from sight. He glanced at the dagger in his hand to make sure it had vanished too. It had.
He turned to see Oarly still hunched behind his axe blade. As quietly as he could, Phen crept over to the dwarf’s side and let out a loud yell. He was rewarded with a new fetid stench. He almost gagged and vomited as he laughed his way across the entry chamber and down the other passage to the serpent’s lair. Behind him, Oarly was cursing and swearing, and trying to regain the wits that had been scared out of him.
***
As Phen walked cautiously down the long, winding tunnel, Oarly braved the water of the main chamber and washed out his britches and small clothes. He’d done the exact same thing last time they were here, only then there had been no fire to dry his things with. He wasted no time wringing the filth out of his garments and hurrying back to the safety of the smaller tunnel. He was glad he’d brought that last flask, for he was shivery and cold. After laying his clothes by the fire, he took a deep swig and sat back with his axe. The stone floor was so cold on his arse, though, that he jumped up. The fire was too small and he was getting cold. After another long pull from the flask, he began hopping and pacing around.
***
Phen was finding the major flaw in his plan as he neared the darkened serpent pit. He couldn’t see. If he cast his magical orb of light, it woul
d hover over his invisible head and throw his shadow. He decided that, up until he snatched the jewel off of its pedestal, it didn’t really matter if he was seen. He was immediately thankful for the light. A few more steps would have carried him tumbling down into the shallow pool that ringed the unnaturally formed chamber. He took in the room and felt a deep sense of awe at the beauty of it. Wicked stalactites hung down from the ceiling, dripping water into the pool full of wiggling two- and three-foot miniature serpents. They were identical, save for size, to the one that had just left.
Phen had a theory on why these little serpents stayed so small and guarded the glittery egg-sized emerald, if in fact that was their purpose at all. The water in the moat probably wasn’t sea water, and there wasn’t any food. They only ate what the larger serpent brought back, so they couldn’t grow. He slipped down from the edge of the opening and felt his heavy feet go into the water. He couldn’t tell the temperature of the liquid due to of the condition of his nerve endings. He cupped a handful of it, though, and brought it to his mouth. Tentatively he touched his tongue to the water. It wasn’t salty, and he decided that he needed to investigate if he could still taste. As he waded across the waist-deep pool to the island of coins and jewels, he studied the metal statues. He didn’t notice, when he was there before, the wide, curving swords at their belts, nor the ruby eyes that seemed to follow him. He looked down and saw that the little serpents were furiously snapping and biting at him. If a normal man attempted this, Phen mused, he wouldn’t make it across before he was stripped to the bone. Some of them were attaching themselves with their suction cups. He would have to have Oarly burn them off. He was certain that if they escaped into the salty sea water they would grow to be as big as the other one, and he didn’t want to be responsible for loosing a bunch of serpents along the coast. There were enough stories already of such beasts attacking ships and wrestling them to the bottom of the sea.
The Wizard and the Warlord (The Wardstone Trilogy Book Three) Page 3