“Your professor's no help,” Umber proclaimed surely. “He gives you weak medication after you nearly killed yourself just so that you can run his thieving agenda? How can you possibly find inspiration from such a selfish man?”
I smacked the eyes of Umber out of the air angrily, before briskly limping down a length of stairs. “Quite frankly he's the only thing I can trust in anymore,” I responded, curtly diverting my attention to the tips of my toes.
“Oh, as if you’ve never had to trust in me before,” Umber simpered, revolving around my head in slow moving orbit. “If anything you’ve been entirely dependant on me, constantly asking for my advice and sage wisdom on nearly everything.”
I turned a light tinge of pink. “I do not!” I stammered grumpily. Umber sighed slightly, as if it was just too difficult to fathom how the inside of my head worked.
“You think I speak in jest Jacob, however the fact that your professor abuses your servitude is a legitimate concern which I at least insist you consider.”
“I do consider it,” I responded with a quick roll of the tongue. “However after consideration I see that the professor is simply trying to do what is best for all of us. Risks must be taken and if I’m the only one who can take them, then so be it.”
Umber rolled his eyes in dismay and tittered softly as I lengthened my strides. “Just what exactly is the purpose of getting this artifact?” Umber asked after a minute or two.
I stopped dead in my tracks, surprised that Umber would ask such a ridiculous question. It was in fact a very silly question! Of course we had to get this artifact because it would... Well it would... I brought a hand to my jaw in more careful consideration. Now that I thought about it, it didn’t really seem like there was a very strong reason to sneak into Castle Lambalitrate. After a few moments of agitated thought, I finally formulated an answer. “Having this artifact in my possession will make me more likely to win the competition.”
“And those are the key words,” Umber responded quickly. “More likely. Notice how you did not say that having the object would ensure your victory. If that’s the case, then why risk finding it at all? If anything the object could put you in further danger, for what would happen if you were found with it?” I shrugged, and folded my arms.
“I could hide it,” I said less than certainly.
“For how long?” Umber wondered.
I sighed and brought a hand to my forehead. “For as long as it would take to get me out of here,” I responded sharply.
Umber sighed in dismay before turning to face me. “You’re already one of the Quenched Jacob. There will not be anyone else like you for quite some time, so surely that would already make you very likely to win the competition. Why risk your life to improve those very high chances?” I bit my upper lip and swallowed about three degrading comments I could have used against Umber.
“I will be up against one of the most powerful dragons in existence. I said quietly. I’m going to need all the power that I can get.” Umber chortled loudly at this remark.
“You think that you can kill a dragon with brute force? Most dragons can be anywhere from thirty to fifty feet tall. Their scales are literally harder than just about any sword you could get, not to mention the fact that dragons have a vast intellect which mortals can only dream of.” I scowled at him from the corner of my eye. “Most mortals,” Umber conceded. “Oh, I forgot to mention the fire! Jacob they also breathe fire.”
“Enough!” I exclaimed, swatting him away with more force than before. “We’ll take this in small steps, not running strides. I understand this is probably the most difficult thing anybody has ever had to do, but it still needs to be done.” Lingering down a lengthy passageway on the ground floor, I rounded a corner and immediately stepped outside into the cold air.
Even in the night, the gardens of Castle Lambalitrate effortlessly showed off its high maintenance and pedigree. Hovering above most flowerbeds were small globules of glowing water, which calmly illuminated the unearthly plantlife. Large pieces of shrubbery were crafted into intricate figurines that although stationary, portrayed a fantastic sense of movement. Green leafy swans loomed over a small pond bed, with their tall necks craning nearly twice my size. Fantails perched on white flower beds looking ready to take flight at any moment. However by far the most amazing of these creatures was a single aggravated looking lynx of impossible proportions. At nearly three stories tall and contained in a small circular brick wall, it stood coiled into a fierce snarl ready to attack at any moment. Although I verified that it was non living, it didn’t stop my startling desire to creep away from the beast among shrubs.
A small orchard off to one side carried an intoxicating scent, which caused me to turn on the spot and sniff for a moment. I calmly strode to the stunning rows of blooming trees, pausing to glaze over the small shimmering fruits which hung like polished rubies.
“I’ve read about these!” I exclaimed to myself. “What I’m looking at here are rows and rows of cherry trees!” The wood of the trees was a common export. Easy to grow in the south, and cheap to distribute, however they couldn’t be grown in the cold kingdom of Zaphris. From what I understood though, the fruit they bore spoiled quickly, making them a delicacy in places far away from warmth.
I found it a wonder that the Grimlars were able grow them in these appalling conditions. Without hesitation, I plucked one from the branch before me and forced my teeth around the almond like pit in the centre. I wormed the fruit around in my mouth, frowning slightly. It was pleasantly soft, yet it had an empty bitter flavour similar to tastes of most unripe fruit. I plucked another one and tried this as well. It tasted exactly the same. I frowned and shrugged slightly. “Perhaps Preston will like them.” I thought to myself with some dissapointment, before removing another dozen or so berries and putting them in the satchel the elder Grimlars carry.
Not daring to waste any more time, I circled around the perimeter of the gardens looking for what the professor told me was an entrance to the dungeons. Tucked neatly behind the colourful commotion was an unimpressive gardener’s shack which smelled of mildew and sagged slightly under its own weight. Glancing to my right and left, I quickly entered the small room and nearly fell down the flight of stairs that greeted me. I sent a brief message with the fingalink informing the professor I had arrived safely and immediately stopped as the painful transformation back to my normal self took place.
“Why do you bother talking to me at all?” I asked Umber after reverting back to my normal form “You know everything I do including all of my memories. Doesn’t that make talking exceptionally boring?” Umber seemed to waver in slight indecision.
“While it’s true I know of everything you’ve experienced, I do not know everything about your opinions and decision making. Mortals have such erratic and illogical thought processes it can often times be quite entertaining to see what sort of conclusions you draw from various observations.”
“Yes, how silly of me,” I responded sarcastically. “Clearly the fact that you have nothing to do but torment me in your bodiless form makes you so much superior to me.”
Umber nearly toppled over with laughter. “Well if you didn’t want the truth then you shouldn’t have asked the question!”
I brushed him off and diverted my attention to my descent.
“Mortals,” He grumbled with the most ear numbing growl he could manage. He disappeared with a puff of white smoke into the shadows and fortunately didn’t reform.
As I continued down the grainy stairs, I began to notice a sudden change in textures. The damp, murky wooden walls and stairways turned into sandstone, with enchanted torches lighting the way. After that came a darker rock, with iron bars supporting the walls and the roofs of the cavern. Without any warning whatsoever, the stairways forked. I halted my advance, started by this obvious knot in the path. I carefully peered down each passageway and saw that each lead into foul, freezing darkness that sapped the feeling from my fingertips. I wanted to as
k Umber what he thought, but the idea of bringing him back just so that he could snarl and play games with my mind was not appetizing.
“The map, of course!” I remembered, bringing a hand to my forehead. I removed the complicated illustration of the underground and squinted deeply at the wormlike passageways scribbled onto the sheet. Just as I was about to continue my advance, I stopped to consider what would happen if I were to get lost. “I need to know whether or not I’ve been here before,” I said to myself thoughtfully. “A trail marker perhaps.” I picked up a nearby rock and tried to scratch a mark into the cold stone floor. Much to my dismay, it barely left a dent. I tried harder this time, furiously scratching until I was out of breath and I had made a small insignificant graze in the floor.
“You’re not going to be able to notice that.” Umber said dryly. “Why not just use the cherries as trail markers? They’re not at all tasty anyways.” I began to protest, but immediately shut my mouth. As much as I didn’t want to admit it, the cherries had far better visibility than the stairway scratches. “May as well put them to good use,” I mumbled to myself glumly. I reached into my satchel pocket and carefully removed a single cherry from the thirteen I had with me. Even in the torchlight, it still seemed to glow with a vivid essence unlike anything else in the hallways. I placed it gently on the step going towards the passage on the right and continued my descent.
I wandered down the lengthy staircase while my eyes followed on the map. For every turn I made, I placed another fruit to remind me where I had gone. Fortunately for me, the separations in the path were infrequent enough that I knew wouldn’t run out of berries any time soon. After the seventh turn I began to see a bright light at the end of the dwindling staircase. Curious but cautious, I slowed my advance.
Ten steps in and my fingers began to grow numb. Twenty more paces and I could feel my cheeks grow rozy in the cool air. A fantastic sixty four steps later and the condensation on the walls had frosted over almost completely. It was at seventy-two long footsteps that the descent suddenly stopped, and opened up into a large cave like space which was encrusted with pearly white icicles. I glanced up and gasped, for above me was an entire ceiling littered with hundreds of weapons. Cudgels, Maces, swords, shields, javelins, spears, arrows, and on and on the list went.
I advanced to examine this phenomenon with greater detail and felt my feet lift off the ground as if an invisible hand was pulling me up into the air. I shrieked and tried to thrash my way back to the ground however it was all in vain. Like a whip cracking down on me, the leather belt holding Fanger the Beast snapped in two, inflicting painful recoil on my back My sword flew up into the air, before colliding with the rest of the metal in a thundering roar. I fell to the ground and brought my hands up to my ears in an attempt to stop the barbaric noise.
I timidly brought my hands back to my side and stared in amazement at the spot where my sword now rested on the ceiling top. It must have been about a minute before I heard a quiet earthy chuckle from beside me. I whipped around in alarm, however there was nothing there but a iron wrought, skillfully smelted eagle’s head fastened onto the wall beside me.
“Hello?” I asked once I realized I realized I was not in immediate danger. The statue beside me twitched and I nearly jumped up the entire flight of stairs in fright.
The statue burst into loud honest laughter, similar to how a prankster might react to an excellent joke. The sculpture of the hawk’s head moved with such fluidity that for a moment I forgot that it was made entirely out of metal.
“I haven’t had that much fun in a long while,” it croaked while looking over me with bemusement. “Just as I was about to think I wouldn’t have any more fun stuck down here, you come along and very nearly empty yourself at the sight of me.”
“You're a statue,” I said stupidly.
“And you’re a Grimlar of sorts.” The statue responded before sharpening his gaze. “But you most certainly don’t act or look like the other Grimlars I’ve seen. You’re not supposed to be here aren’t you?” he asked breezily.
“Well, as a matter of fact I actually am supposed to be here,” I lied, boldly straightening myself up.
“Fine, say what you want. I’ve lost all reason to care anyways.” The twisted beak of the hawk turned upward into a sly smile. “The fact that you’re here is not my problem, although I do find you interesting and entertaining. For that I will keep you here undetected.” I nodded, absolutely unsure what to make of the odd lifeform talking with me. I gestured up to the ceiling and clasped my hands behind my back, now at a complete loss for words.
“I imagine you’d like to know why your weapon is no longer with you,” the eagle asked jovially.
I nodded with polite uncertainty.
“Well, I happen to be but one out of many other bird statues that guard the various doors down here. We’re a family of sorts, and each of us have talents that are designed to restrict passage or generally act as an inconvenience to people who are not supposed to be here.”
“I am supposed to be here,” I protested weakly. The statue I was talking with made a noise that suggested a lack of concern before continuing.
“Either friend or foe, I can certainly see I’ve done my job well. If I have not introduced myself already, already allow me to do so. I am Minget the Magnetic, guardian of possessions and taker of protections.” I looked for a third time up at the large cluster of weapons stuck to the ceiling.
“What do I have to do to get my sword back?”
Minget chuckled to himself, as if finding the idea incredibly amusing.
“You seem to think that there is a straightforward alternative. Like there is a certain rite of passage you need to go through in order to reclaim your sword.”
“Is there?” I asked skeptically.
Minget wormed his beak around indecisively.
“You’re much more entertaining than the Grimlars indeed,” he mused to himself softly. “In this case yes, I believe there’s a favour you can do for me.”
“Anything,” I said calmly.
Minget arched a feathery eyebrow. “You may yet regret saying something like that. While the enthusiasm is appreciated, I recommend from now on you always keep some shred of free will.”
I nodded, feeling ridiculous that an iron statue was giving me lessons on self-security.
“What do I have to do to get my sword back?” I repeated for the second time
“Bring me my bird-feed,” Minget said, yawning a little. I rubbed my ears and came closer.
“Sorry?”
“You heard me. I want my bird-feed. The Grimlars keep it in the nearby cellar.”
“But... But...” I said before pointing uncertainty at the creature. “You’re a statue.”
“Contrary to popular belief, talking statues do actually need to eat.” Minget said condescendingly.
I sighed and pressed my eyebrows together, carefully formulating a response.
“Yes well umm... Keep in mind,” I began while pacing around the room. “That I may not need my sword. You however need your food to stay alive and healthy.” I pointed upward in objection. “Surely you would agree that I deserve more in return by performing this feat.”
Minget sighed a little. “Look, you seem like a nice enough mortal, but honestly I’m not one for greed. You can only have your sword, so long as you feed me.” I shook my head vigorously.
“The only thing that I want along with my sword is knowledge.” I held up the map of the underground for him to see. “I need to find out how to get here.” I said circling the room the professor had marked. The eyes of the eagle widened suddenly. He tried his best to shake his head no, but it looked difficult considering his neck was fastened to the wall. His metal beak fell open and I saw a flash of an expression I didn't recognize. It seemed to be a combination of mourning, anger and regret all at once.
“I don’t feel comfortable with you going there,” he said after a lengthy amount of time.
“I though
t you said you weren’t concerned with what I did?” I asked innocently.
The statue licked his beak with a barbed metal tongue, looking suddenly uncertain.
“Ah, thats a shame,” I said after a few withheld minutes of conversation. “Perhaps I’ll just find another way. After all, I don’t actually need my sword. Moving very slowly, I began to leisurely stroll out of the room and up the staircase. Just as my other foot left the ground for the staircase,
I heard the statue call out. I instantly ran back to hear what it was he had to say. “I’ll give you what you need as long as you bring me my feed,” he said weakly.
“Fine by me. Where do I find your food?”
He frowned slightly, which brought the sound of crunching metal echoing throughout the cavern. “Through that hallway right over there, you’ll find the storage depot that has my food. It should be on the top shelf somewhere” I grinned rubbing my hands together eagerly.
Gift of Gold (The Year of Churning Bloods) Page 26