by Joseph Lallo
Tristofer sank back on his knees and slowly, reverently, read the book while he simultaneously inspected the illustrations. Right away Tristofer knew that the drawings were different from the one belonging to Maelnar’s granddaughter. The style was different. These pictures were dark; foreboding. It was as if the pictures had been commissioned for something else and as an afterthought had been assembled into a collection to be passed off as a piece of children’s literature.
Tristofer turned to the page depicting the catastrophe and held his breath. The king! The king was shown holding his hammer and it was a much better close-up than little Trindolyn’s book had ever been. There, clutched tightly in the king’s hand, was the power hammer with the red jewel clearly visible on the tool’s head. Also visible was the small sharp point that comprised the other side of the hammer head. Next to the point was...
“Who has that metal thing from the lake?” Tristopher excitedly asked.
Athos and Venk both shrugged and held up their hands, palms up. They didn’t have it.
“Breslin?”
Maelnar’s son pulled his pack over to him and began rifling through its contents.
“Here it is. What’s the problem?”
“No problem. None whatsoever. In fact, I think we just had several questions answered. Look. Look here!”
Everyone crowded around the book and looked at what Tristopher was pointing at.
“It’s the king’s hammer,” Venk told him. “I remember looking at this when Maelnar showed all of us his granddaughter’s book. So what?”
“But it’s not the same picture, is it?”
Venk stared at the book with a blank expression. Athos merely shrugged.
“Trust me, it isn’t. Look at the hammer. You can see much more detail in this illustration!”
Venk raised his eyes and met Tristopher’s. “Fine. It isn’t quite the same. What’s your point?”
“Look at the hammer! Or more specifically, look at the hammer’s head! See this right here? It’s the object we were given by the nixies! It’s the hammer’s counterweight!”
Tristofer placed the square metal disk and the ruby whorl down on the book next to the hammer’s pictograph.
Intrigued, Breslin stared at the hammer. The flat square block adjacent to the tapered point did resemble the gift from the nixies. And if the ruby whorl was viewed straight down from the top it did resemble a normal gem. It could be a match for the gem depicted on the power hammer, but if so, why the curlicue shape? Was the gem supposed to be embedded inside the hammer somehow?
Breslin scowled. Was that what they were doing? Tracking down pieces of an ancient hammer?
“After all this time, there’s the proof,” Tristofer proudly declared. “We have the weight and we have the gem. Each piece is leading us to the next. This is remarkable!”
Breslin wasn’t convinced.
“Remarkable my arse. The purpose of this whole expedition is just to find pieces of a hammer? What about Nar? I don’t care about some ruddy hammer.”
“I think it’s remarkable all right,” Athos grumbled.
Tristofer beamed with pleasure.
“Thank you.”
“It’s a remarkable waste of time.”
“Excuse me,” Venk interjected. “The reason we’re here is to get that blasted mark of my son’s back. If we find pieces to some hammer, fine. If we find Nar, so what? I’m only interested in helping Lukas.”
Tristofer’s smile vanished.
“What is wrong with you people? This is a Narian power hammer! Think of all the advances in metallurgy we could learn if we could produce an actual, honest to goodness power hammer from Nar? Why, it would be worth more than its weight in gold! We’d be famous! Songs would be sung about us!”
Athos shook his head. “Not the songs I’d want to hear about.”
“What I’m saying is, this is an important discovery! We cannot turn back now. We are so close!”
Breslin approached the scholar and gave him a condescending pat on his shoulder.
“Let me see if I have this straight. A Questor’s Mark appears on a boy’s back. It turns out to be a map leading us all across the countryside. We think we’re being led to Nar but it turns out we’re on a scavenger hunt for pieces of an ancient tool. Did I leave anything out?”
“Umm, er, you forgot to mention that we were carried across most of the kingdom by dragons. That must account for something!”
Breslin’s face actually turned a few shades of green.
“That’s an experience I do not ever want to be reminded about. Ever.”
Tristofer sighed and sank down onto the closest log. He rubbed his temples. “Fair enough, fair enough. Before you come to any decisions, think of how much we all can benefit from studying the hammer! It could pulverize the hardest stone with one blow! How? Because of the metal the Narians used? Maybe it has something to do with the jewel? Or perhaps something else we aren’t even aware of yet. Any way you look at it, this is an adventure we should see through, regardless of whether or not the prize at the end is a hammer or Nar itself.”
Breslin sat down next to the scholar and began twirling the tip of his beard around a finger.
“Tell me this. Honestly. Do you now feel like we’re still searching for Nar or are we now searching for this hammer of yours?”
Tristofer’s eyes dropped to the flickering flames in the hearth.
“I believe we’re looking for pieces to the hammer. As much as I’d like to think it’ll lead us to Nar, clearly our goal is to find all the pieces and re-assemble the hammer. Deep down, I still think that there might be some other purpose to this. I mean, why else would the Questor’s Mark appear? Why now? But until we can find evidence that suggests otherwise, I’ll settle for finding the hammer. If we’re allowed to continue, that is.”
Breslin nodded, pleased. It was what he now believed, too, and judging by the looks of the others, it was what everyone now believed. However, he didn’t think the scholar would have admitted to him that he had felt the same way. The fact that Tristofer did confirm his own suspicions made him respect the absent-minded book lover a little more. Just a little.
“We continue on,” Breslin decided.
“Whatever for?” Athos demanded, crossing his arms over his chest.
“For the reason Master Venk has said. The primary reason for this excursion is to rid young Lukas of his disfiguring mark. Besides, we cannot ignore the secondary purpose: from a metallurgical standpoint, this hammer comes from a more advanced culture than our own. My father will want to study it. Everyone will want to study it. Who knows? It may someday lead us to Nar itself, but until that day comes, we will not turn our backs. We continue on.”
“You’re just as nuts as he is,” Athos observed, hooking a thumb back at Tristofer. “Very well. We keep going. This had better be one spectacular hammer.”
“Oh, it’s so much more than that,” Tristofer began. “It can...
“Not now,” Breslin interrupted.
Tristofer bowed. “Right. Sorry.”
Breslin clapped his hands together and vigorously rubbed them back and forth. “Shall we see where we’re heading next? Master Lukas, if you please.”
Lukas pulled his jerkin up to his chin and faced the other direction.
“I’ll bet the top right is next,” Tristofer guessed, indicating which section of the map he thought would appear next.
“Lower right,” Athos disagreed.
“I’ll take center,” Venk added.
“What’s the wager?” Athos wanted to know.
“Wager?” Tristofer sputtered. “I’m not wagering.”
Unfazed by Tristofer’s reluctance to play, Athos pushed him out of their circle. Breslin took his place.
“I want in on this.” Breslin tapped the top right. “I think Tristofer is right. For once,” he added under his breath. “I think the right side of the map is next.”
> Venk held out a hand. “May I?”
Breslin nodded. He plucked the gem out of Tristofer’s hands and gave the whorl to Venk, who gently touched the jewel to his son’s bare back. Surprising them all, the far right section of the map, stretching from top to bottom, intensified and came into focus. A line of gray smudges still separated the different sections of the mark. Ignoring what that could possibly mean, Breslin turned his attention to the newest section of the map that had been revealed.
It was a waterfall.
A tall, majestic waterfall had appeared running alongside the right vertical border of the Questor’s Mark. At the top of the waterfall they could see tiny trees on either side of the falling water. Judging by the size of the trees, the waterfall had to be at least two hundred feet high.
“Does anyone know how many waterfalls there are in Lentari?” Athos asked, turning to face his companions.
“Any idea which one that is?” Breslin asked.
“I’d like to take an educated guess and say Drammli Falls,” Tristofer said.
“On Lentari’s eastern coast?” Breslin asked. “The Great Sea of Koralis is a long ways away. What makes you say that?”
“The cliffs give it away. Look at it. See those crags and indentations? The cliffs bordering the eastern sea are like that. I saw it for myself a number of years ago.”
Breslin nodded. He sat down and pulled out his pipe. “Then it’s settled. We leave for Drammli Falls at first light.”
He lit the tip of a twig from the hearth and held it out to his pipe, inhaling as he did so. In just a few moments his tobacco was lit.
“Rhamalli, if you’re listening, and I know you are, we’ll see you there.”
Venk and Athos both stifled a laugh.
Chapter 7 – Not Fond of Heights, Either
“How do we even know we’re heading towards the correct waterfall?” Athos complained. “Do you really want to take his word for it?”
Tristofer turned to look at Athos with undisguised hurt on his face.
“That was uncalled for.”
Athos shook his head. “No, it’s not. I seem to recall being guided to the wrong lake.”
“It was an honest mistake.”
“I seem to recall you lost the map.”
“Misplaced,” Tristofer hastily corrected. “I misplaced the map.”
“You couldn’t answer Two Head’s riddle.”
“Well, neither could you!”
“I’m not the scholar, you are.”
“Your point is taken, Master Athos,” Tristofer sniffed, raising his nose in the air. “Trust me, the waterfall we want is the one we are heading towards now.”
Athos mumbled something under his breath. Wisely deciding he didn’t want it to be repeated, Tristofer kept silent.
Breslin held up an arm, signaling the group to halt. They came to a stop near the trunk of an enormous evergreen, which wasn’t surprising as the trees were growing so thick that barely any sunlight found its way down to the forest floor. Lukas craned his neck to look up at the distant treetops, wondering why they had stopped. Had Breslin heard something? Had the Zweigelan escaped and was now pursuing them?
The underling shuddered. The last thing he wanted to see was the mean two-headed dragon again.
“Why have we stopped?” Venk whispered, unsure if he needed to lower his voice but thought it couldn’t hurt to be safe.
“The trees are beginning to thin,” Breslin explained. He pointed north. “Behold! There’s a path through those trees up ahead. See it?”
Venk nodded. He could see a small, but well worn path snaking amongst the trees as it angled northeast. They had finally caught some good luck and now had a path to follow!
“I hope it’s one of those enchanted paths,” Tristofer remarked.
Breslin shook his head. “I doubt it. The path is way too small. As long as it leads out of the forest we’ll be fine. Let’s move.”
The five of them stepped out onto the path and wordlessly headed northeast. The path wove tightly around the trees, oftentimes circling the massive tree trunks instead of just veering off in another direction. Clearly the path’s creator wanted to proceed in a direct line and wouldn’t tolerate any deviations whatsoever.
“That’s the fourth tree we’ve walked around,” Breslin remarked. “If they would have just angled the path ten degrees north they could have completely bypassed the last two trees.”
Athos snorted. “Humans. How are we to know what goes on in their tiny little brains?”
“Not all humans are like that,” Breslin returned, frowning at Athos.
“No dwarf would ever disgrace themselves by creating such an appalling path,” Athos carried on. “Look at it. It was hugging that last tree so tightly that I could smell the bark.”
“Be glad you’re not a human then,” Venk pointed out as he nudged his brother in his ribs.
“Absolutely,” Athos agreed. “I’d never be able to live with myself.”
“Just what the ruddy hell is wrong with my path, you snot-nosed bearded excuse of a fool?”
The dwarves came to an abrupt halt. Standing before them was a scrawny human armed with a bow much too large for him to effectively handle. Nevertheless, an arrow had been nocked and was ready to shoot.
Breslin studied the gaunt human. He was middle aged, scraggly, looked malnourished, and was dressed in rags. Hooked to his belt was a quiver full of crooked, homemade arrows. Joining him were half a dozen more humans all in the same condition as their leader. Four had bows and two carried crossbows. All were aimed at their party.
“Drop your packs, your weapons, axes, and anything else of value you may be carrying,” the first thief instructed. “Be quick about it.”
Breslin gripped Mythryd tightly, having pulled his beloved red axe the moment they had been accosted. Venk and Athos had also drawn their weapons. Tristofer, as was the norm with him, was cowering beside Lukas.
“We don’t want any trouble,” Breslin cautioned. He glared at the thieves’ leader. “However, we will not be surrendering any of our weapons. Go about your business before someone gets hurt.”
Those that weren’t ready to fire their arrows became so. Bowstrings were pulled back and the dwarves were targeted. Smiling profusely, the leader strode forward and sneered at them.
“You’re about to become a pincushion, dwarf. You have one minute to decide.”
Venk nervously eyed the ruffians. Every one of them was ready to fire an arrow at them. Proximity to the shooters was too close; if the arrows were loosed there’d only be one outcome. The dwarves huddled together to consider their options.
“They have the upper hand,” Venk whispered to Breslin.
“We have the upper hand,” Breslin whispered back. “I think now would be a good time to use another of Shardwyn’s spells.”
“Which one?” Venk wanted to know.
“Do you think it matters? Any one of them will do. Just get one and be ready! Follow my lead.”
Breslin slowly straightened and then pretended to be angry. He slipped his pack from his should and let it fall to the ground. The others mimicked him. While the thieves chortled gleefully amongst themselves, Venk nudged his pack open and slipped a hand inside, hoping he would be able to quickly locate the silk bag containing the spells. As luck would have it, the bag was sitting just inside the opening. Venk shoved his hand in and grabbed one of the spheres. He glanced down at it as he nodded to Breslin. It was the fire spell. Perfect! Hesitating a few moments longer, Breslin knelt to retrieve his pack from the ground.
“I do believe I’ve changed my mind.”
On cue, Venk threw the sphere at their attackers and mentally invoked the spell, hoping they’d be able to get to safety before the expected wall of flames appeared. He grabbed Lukas and dove to the ground. Athos, Tristofer, and Breslin threw themselves to the ground moments later.
The muggers roared with laughter.
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br /> Confused, Breslin looked up at their attackers. His face reddened as he saw what had happened. Shardwyn’s fire spell had only generated a single flame, enough to light a candle. In this case the tip of the arrow closest to them had ignited.
“Wizards be damned,” Breslin muttered.
“He will be once I’m done with him,” Athos grumbled.
“Ooo, I’m scared, dwarf,” the leader sneered. “For a moment there I actually thought things were about to turn ugly like an unfortunate incident that happened to me years ago. But this?” A quick puff extinguished his burning arrow. “This I can deal with. That little act of insolence is going to cost you.”
The ground suddenly lurched so violently that everyone was thrown off their feet. Two massive claws broke through the wall of trees and parted them, as though a giant’s hands were opening a really large set of drapes.
Trees were either uprooted or snapped in half as a large opening appeared. Rhamalli thrust his head into the opening and growled at the humans.
Breslin held up a hand and indicated the dragon. “Ah! I see introductions are in order. Rhamalli, lunch. Lunch, meet Rhamalli.”
The group of thieves broke rank and fled. Way out ahead, and already disappearing into the forest, was the group’s fearless leader. The dwarves heard someone shout something about giving up this line of work for good and then the humans were gone.
“We had them right where we wanted them,” Athos told the dragon.
Rhamalli nodded his massive head. “Of course you did. Why aren’t you out on the enchanted path? It’s just over there, past the edge of the forest.”
The dwarves peered sheepishly through the trees and out onto the open grassland. They had only been about thirty feet from exiting the forest.
“We were following this path,” Breslin explained, looking down at the tiny path. He blinked. The path was gone!
“We were duped,” Athos told him. “I’m not happy about it either. We should have been able to tell. We were led right into an ambush.”
Rhamalli withdrew his head and waited for the dwarves to follow him out into the open. The wizard’s spell had alerted him the dwarves were in danger. Thankfully he hadn’t been that far away while he was waiting for the dwarves to exit the forest. When they hadn’t appeared in time, he began flying lower while he tried to locate his charges. Once the spell had been activated, he had been able to instantly locate them and was able to see that they had been accosted by a group of humans.