The Wizard and the Warlord (The Wardstone Trilogy Book Three)

by M. R. Mathias

  “If I’m not back, she is to leave without me. There is a small army escorting our carriage. She will be safe.”

  Cresson made a sour face. “It’s not her safety that is in question. It’s the foul mood she will be in when she learns of this.”

  Mikahl let out a long sigh, knowing the truth of it. “I will go speak with her.” He smiled at the way relief washed visibly over the mage’s expression. “You have enough to do without having to deal with the wrath of the High Queen as well.”

  As Mikahl strode toward the door he wondered why flying off to the Dragon Spire to confront some unknown enemy alone didn’t frighten him, yet going to tell his wife that he might not be there when she left for Westland in the morning unnerved him to no end.

  Chapter 23

  Corva was just about to reveal to King Mikahl that Telgra was the daughter of the elven Queen Mother, but the human mage interrupted him. He’d refrained from telling the High King this in their first two meetings because of the fact that the knowledge, once made public, could bring about terrible repercussions to the elven kingdom. Corva was certain that King Mikahl had a good heart and had no intention of bringing harm to the elves, but there were the rest of the courtiers there and the strange mage as well. He tried to speak to the High King alone, but the castle was always a flurry of activity. The High King barely seemed to have time to breathe. If a not so honorable person learned of Telgra’s identity, she could be captured and ransomed or worse. With such leverage, a few humans might be able to turn the wrath of the Queen Mother against whomever they desired.

  Telgra was the heir to the entire elven kingdom, and the position was one that no other elf could ever fill. More than an inherited title, the line of Queen Mothers had a special bond with the earth and the forest that no other could obtain. They were deeply connected to the Heart of Arbor. Telgra’s powers, as she matured, would become incomprehensible to even the most learned elf. The current Queen Mother would not hesitate to make war on all mankind to protect her lineage. Thus Corva kept his tongue. He would have told the High King in private, but now the long-bearded mage was saying that King Mikahl was going, and that he would not be returning until winter was over.

  The hospitality of the red castle had been extended to Corva and Dostin indefinitely. They could stay and wait in relative luxury for Lord Gregory to return. Dostin said he’d met the Lion Lord last summer when the man and his wife had visited the Isle of Salaya. It was on that very trip that the High King accidentally caused the fairy trees to bloom with his sword.

  By using his keen senses, Corva managed to ascertain that Telgra was ultimately on a quest to the Leif Repline fountain. They were supposedly spending the winter months in some place so secretive that no one would reveal its location. She was traveling with a dwarf and a boy who’d been curiously spelled to stone.

  There was an elven fable about the magical fountain and the creature that guarded it from abuse, but Corva couldn’t remember it. All he could recall was that the place was deep in the treacherous Giant Mountains and that the beast hadn’t sounded all that terrible by its description. The journey was no doubt dangerous. He felt that he had to find her and talk some sense into her. He couldn’t imagine what she was thinking.

  King Mikahl was being so tight-lipped about her that Corva had to respect his resolve. The king‘s explanation that he would be breaking his word to someone if he revealed where they were spending the winter was completely understandable. Corva had made similar promises in his life. He was frustrated beyond reason. Cresson said that she might have sent a message into the Evermore to be left at Vaegon’s Glade, but the mage wasn’t certain, and no one could say what the missive said. The question was, would Lord Gregory, upon his return, tell them where the others were spending the winter? Corva concluded that, if he couldn’t find out where Telgra was holing up, he would have no choice but to return to the Evermore Forest and face the Queen Mother with what he knew.

  The idea of adventuring through the dangerous mountains with a dwarf, a person made of stone, and the legendary wizard Hyden Hawk intrigued him enough that he was envious of Telgra. If he found her before winter was over, and saw that she was reasonably safe, he could see himself going along on such a quest. Only if she was safe.

  After waiting in the throne room for an hour, then finding out from the mage that the High King was no longer in Dreen, Corva decided that there was still a lot he could accomplish. There were stablemen who could be questioned, wagon loaders, guardsmen, and gate keepers. All of them were seemingly befuddled by his appearance. He could use that. Someone had to know where they had gone.

  Dostin had stood patiently beside him throughout the morning session of the High King’s court without complaint. Corva had become attached to the monk’s loyalty. With a warm smile and a pat on Dostin’s back, he suggested that the two of them find something to eat and a private place to talk. Corva found that Dostin’s simple outlook on things often helped him make decisions. Dostin would no doubt again ask him a dozen different questions pertaining to why no one would tell them where Telgra had gone. Corva would answer. Dostin would ask more questions, and in the process of answering them, either Corva would find a new idea to help find a solution, or the solution would be there in one of Dostin’s simplistic queries.

  They found a servant and asked if there was food available and if there was a place they could sit and talk quietly. The man showed them to a dimly torchlit hall used mostly for the staff. The weathered wooden table seated ten and had dirty plates and bowls piled upon it. The servant quickly tidied an area and hung a lantern on the wall nearby. He scurried away after telling them that he would return soon with some food and wine.

  The two spoke while they ate, mostly Corva answering Dostin’s questions. Several members of the castle staff stopped in to take away dishes or clean the table and floor. It became clear that they were trying to get a glimpse of an elf without being obvious.

  No sooner did they finish their meal than Lady Trella backed into the room as if she were trying to flee someone. She pulled the door to and stood there for a long moment, peering out of the crack. When she turned, she yelped out in fright. She hadn’t seen the two sitting there watching her.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said, blushing brightly and trying to avoid the elf’s gaze. “I hope I didn’t intrude. I um… I was uh…”

  “Hello, my lady,” Dostin said. He half stood and bowed his head. “You aren’t bothering us at all.”

  “Are you all right?” Corva asked, standing. “Is someone after you?”

  “No… no…” She blushed even more and gave Dostin a girlish wave. “The truth is, I’m hiding from Queen Rosa.” She giggled uneasily. “She is driving me mad with her preparations for Westland. And now that King Mikahl has suddenly left she has become a terror.”

  “Come, sit.” Corva indicated an open seat at the table. “Join us. We were just discussing our predicament. You’re not intruding.”

  “Thank you.” She smiled a little easier. “I sometimes hide in here when I want to get away from the silliness of the younger girls.”

  “My lady, you are barely a child yourself,” Corva said with all the sincerity of a hundred-and-twenty-five-year-old elf.

  “No, she’s not,” Dostin said stupidly. “She’s probably thirty-five summers old.”

  Lady Trella beamed at the both of them. She was in fact nearing her forty-fifth summer. Lord Gregory, Rosa, and the younger girls always told her how youthful she appeared. She’d always thought they did so to make her feel better. These two had no reason to exaggerate. She was suddenly at ease and her smile was brilliant. “You’re too kind,” she replied.

  “Because Corva is an old elf, over a hundred, he thinks all of us humans are little children,” Dostin said to her conspiratorially. “If you ask me, he is the one who looks like a child.”

  Corva just smiled and shook his head. He reminded himself to explain to Dostin later that, when speaking to women, elven or
human, you weren’t supposed to cheapen the compliments others gave them. He doubted Dostin understood the concept of a compliment. The monk spoke entirely from the heart. When he said something nice about someone it wasn’t because he was trying to make them feel better. It was because it was the truth, as he saw it.

  “They say all elves look young,” Lady Trella said to Dostin with a grin. Suddenly something passed through her eyes and her face changed to one full of concern.

  “I was told that the fairy trees were destroyed,” she said. “Is it true?”

  “Not all of them, my lady,” Dostin answered with an almost blank expression on his round face. Her sudden change of emotion must have confused the monk. “The elves saved some of them.”

  “Far too few,” said Corva. “Hopefully, soon my people will be able to help the grove restore itself to its former glory. But that might take centuries.”

  “One of my fondest memories is from that grove,” she said. “I’m sorry to have interrupted your conversation with my silliness. I think I will leave you two to finish your discussion.”

  “My lady,” Dostin started. “Will your Lord Gregory tell us where Lady Telgra is spending the winter? We have to find her. It’s important.”

  “And urgent,” Corva added with a look of appreciation at the monk.

  “Only he or King Mikahl could tell you the exact location of the Skyler Clan village,” Lady Trella told them. “All I know is that it’s in the foothills of the Giant Mountains somewhere north of the Summer’s Day Spire.”

  “Thank you, my lady,” Corva said. He stood and bowed. “You don’t know how much you’ve helped ease my mind about our Lady Telgra. Just knowing she’s safe and in good hands is a great comfort.”

  “Well then, I’ll leave you two,”she said.

  Dostin called out, “Good day, my lady,” and Lady Trella paused by the door.

  She turned and smiled at him broadly. “If you need any provisions, just ask the stablemen,” she said. “I will give him the word to get what you need.”

  “Your kindness will be remembered, my lady,” Corva said, bowing to her again.

  Dostin stood awkwardly and bowed as well.

  “Are we going to the Spire to find Lord Gregory?” Dostin asked.

  “Yes, we are,” Corva said, feeling the relief of knowing that he could now find Telgra sweep over him.

  “What if he won’t tell us where she is?” the monk asked.

  “Then we will just wander the foothills until we find the Skyler Clan village,” Corva answered, thinking, but not saying, that they would wander down the tracks that the caravan left behind.

  “What if the giants find us?” Dostin asked. “I heard a story that a giant guard roams the edge of the mountains and eats the people who trespass there.”

  “I’m not worried about the giants, Dostin,” Corva said.

  “Why not?” the monk asked, as if not being afraid of a giant were absurd.

  “I’m not afraid because elves don’t taste good.” Corva laughed at Dostin’s expression, but a moment later Dostin said something that made his mirth vanish.

  “There are ice dragons and trolls in the mountains, too, Corva.” Dostin scratched his chin. “I heard that they love to eat elves.” The statement wouldn’t have bothered Corva so much had it not been completely true.

  ***

  It had been decided by Lieutenant Welch that he and the other three members of the king’s guard were to escort the quest party to the safety of the clan village. They’d then return to start hauling the supplies from where they had to leave the wagons. The six riders moved slowly, because Phen and Telgra were walking.

  Lord Gregory was pleased to be returning to the calm and peaceful place where life had been slowly restored to him. He’d woken there after being unconscious for months. He’d had to relearn how to walk and ride, and it had been no easy road to travel. Only the deep love he felt for his Lady Trella, and the urging of the Skyler Clan members, had kept him striving.

  Phen felt as if he were returning to a place he had visited a dozen times. He hadn’t actually been to the clan village, but Hyden Hawk had told him hundreds of stories about the place. He was anxious to meet the cousins too. They all had a story about them.

  Oarly was drunk and trying desperately to stay on the back of his horse. His short, stubby legs weren’t long enough to straddle the animal, so he was forever teetering and tottering on the verge of falling to the ground. Every so often he would throw an arm out wildly and let loose a string of curses. Jicks, Phen, and even Lady Telgra were stifling giggles as they watched him. Two of the braver guards were discussing a wager over when the dwarf would hit the ground.

  The hills were scattered with color. The wind was brisk and rattled the golden-brown and red leaves from the trees. The pines and firs were still green and filled the air with a pleasant aroma. The trail wasn’t bad for the riders, or the horses. The slow pace helped, as well. They made much noise as they passed, scaring away most of the wildlife, but in the distance the birds sang out, and once a pair of hearty deer shot off from a stream, waving their white tails like warning flags.

  “It’s fargin cold,” Oarly yelled, then gave out a yelp as his feet shot over his head. He nearly flipped out of the saddle backward, but somehow managed to hang on. Everybody, including the normally serious Lieutenant Welch, had a good laugh.

  “No, Oarly,” Lord Gregory said brightly. “Soon you will be begging for days like this.”

  “I’m going back with ye, Lord Lion,” Oarly snapped. “We dwarves wasn’t meant to be out in this frigid climate.”

  “You’re welcome to winter in Dreen, master dwarf,” Lord Gregory said. “You’re welcome to winter anywhere in the kingdom, as far as that goes.”

  “Aye, but… ut… ut,” Oarly bounced up and landed on his side in the saddle somehow. For a long moment, both of his legs stuck out one way while his flailing arms shot out the other.

  “By the gods, Oarly,” Phen laughed hysterically, “how did you manage to stay on?”

  Lord Gregory had to stop his horse, he was laughing so hard.

  “Bah,” Oarly yelled as he righted himself in the saddle yet again. “By Doon, what I’d give for a cave incher, or even a little mule.”

  “What’s a cave incher?” Jicks asked.

  “It’s what dwarves pee with,” Phen said.

  Telgra blushed furiously and whacked Phen on the shoulder. Immediately, she yelped, feeling her hand smart as it found Phen’s stony flesh.

  Everyone was laughing then; not even the guards were paying attention. That’s when a hairy beast shot out of the rocks and leapt with a wild, cackling growl, taking Oarly right out of his saddle.

  Oarly screamed in terror as he crashed to the ground under the awful-smelling creature. “Ughhh! Get it off!”

  Everyone else could see the pair of human legs sticking out of the ugly, but dead, creature’s hair-covered skull. Lieutenant Welch, Jicks, and two guards were off their horses with swords drawn, and one of the archers was ready to loose. Phen had to dart his horse in front of the bowman. The other archer’s horse had bolted in fear.

  From above them, a few dozen young men, all looking quite similar with their long black hair, tan skin, and crude leather clothing, appeared out of nowhere. They were all laughing.

  Just then, the screeching caw of a hawkling filled the air. Talon, his feathers as white as Phen’s skin, swept by them. The bird circled sharply and came flapping down onto Phen’s head. After folding his wings in and pumping out his chest proudly, the bird looked at Telgra and cooed.

  “By Doon, get it off me,” Oarly was yelling. “It’s fargin got me!”

  A younger version of Hyden Hawk wiggled his way out of the shagmar skull and hopped up to his feet. He looked around at all the tense faces nervously. When his eyes found Lord Gregory, he grinned broadly, showing a row of bright white teeth.

  “Well met, Little Con,” Lord Gregory laughed. “You might want to clear off
a ways. That dwarf is dangerous when he is agitated.”

  The boy glanced at Oarly, who was finding his way out from under the huge shagmar skull. Little Con grimaced, then bolted up the nearest hillside.

  The tension evaporated and everybody quit laughing, save for one. Up on the hill, a lone voice was guffawing madly. Phen turned to see Hyden Skyler huddled up in the grass, holding his stomach. After a few moments of this, Oarly shouted out indignantly. “It’s over, man! You fargin got me. It’s not that funny anymore.”

  “No, Oarly, it’s not you,” Hyden said, pushing his long black hair out of his face with one hand as he pointed with the other. “It’s not you I'm laughing at anymore.” Hyden struggled to his feet while still holding his stomach. “This is the first time I’ve gotten to see Marble Boy.”

  “That’s not funny, Hyden,” Phen yelled. And again, everybody, even Lady Telgra, had to chuckle.

  Chapter 24

  High King Mikahl felt the chill of the approaching winter as he flew on the back of the bright horse. The magical pegasus carried him over the brown farm lands of central Dakahn, then out over the deep emerald triangle of the marshes. Queen Rosa hadn’t been happy about him leaving on some dangerous errand on the day of their departure, but he’d come anyway.

  “Westland is your homeland, Mikahl,” she said. “If we were going to Seaward to winter with my people, would you like it if I ran off and left you to travel alone?”

  No I wouldn’t, he told himself. “There is a threat to the realm, my love,” he told her. “I have to go.”

  “No, you don’t!” she yelled. “You have thousands of soldiers, six kingdoms’ worth at your command. You should send them to investigate and handle the threat. This is what they are for.”

  What she said made sense to Mikahl. He’d been raised a squire, and he depended heavily on people like Lord Gregory, King Jarrek, and Queen Willa to help him make his decisions, but none of them were at hand for this one.