Legend of the Iron Flower Box Set (Books 1-4)

by Billy Wong

  Soon he and Rose were alone sitting on the grass, and he put a comforting arm around her. "Sorry you had to be there without me. Are you all right?"

  Her voice was less pained than he'd expected, if still melancholy. "I'm okay. I mean, the deaths of the men, and the sight of their bodies, that was horrible. But I made some fine friends today. One of them was even the famed knight, Jacob Greyhunt, who I've admired for years. I'm so glad Derrick came through okay. It's just too bad he—they—had to go through all that because of me."

  Finn held her close and pressed his face into her fluffy black mane. He didn't know if he could alleviate her misery, but he couldn't not try. "Don't blame yourself. You thought—we all thought—we would be able to see the pitfalls of the ruins before it was too late. If we hadn't tried, how could we have known? You shouldn't torture yourself over honest mistakes—only learn from them and do better next time."

  To his relief, she seemed to relax and leaned comfortably against him. "I know, it's just that I expected better from myself. But I'll try not to beat myself up too much if I can help it. I mean, you're not, and you were supposed to watch out for the magecraft just like I was!"

  Finn's spirits rose at the smile that blossomed on her face, and along with them a potential insight. "Rose, what if that magesight thing you got from the archmage doesn't actually work?"

  She shook her head dismissively. "No, I'm pretty sure it works. We saw magic through it just fine before, didn't we?"

  Finn wasn't ready to abandon his train of thought. "What if there are different types of magic, kind of like different languages, and all we have is the ability to read one 'language,' if you will? After all, it's said the Old World was bursting with magic. It couldn't all have been the same kind, right?"

  Rose considered the idea. "Even if you are mainly just trying to make me feel better, that's not a bad theory. Never thought of it that way before, actually. You're smarter than you look!"

  He laughed, happy to improve her mood. "I'm the same dumb ox as ever. My newfound 'wisdom' is just you rubbing off on me! I guess we're going to be here a while waiting for Derrick, huh?"

  Rose nodded as Finn rocked her back and forth in his arms. "I don't mind. It's not as if we figured out what to do next yet. What do you think? It looks like we're not quite ready to lead expeditions into the Old World."

  It only took him a moment to think of an answer. "How about we go and find out if my theory's right or not? You didn't read enough Old Script to do much last time, but I imagine with Derrick with us and what you've learned since then, we'll be able to figure out lots of the books in there. How about it, Rose? Back north to the archmage's lair?"

  Just a hint of fear crossed her face, but she shook it off. "All right. Who knows, maybe we'll even find out something about these madness curses or whatever that I keep running into. There was quite the library there."

  #

  Over the next two days, Finn's affection for Rose seemed to grow continuously. He felt happier here, alone with her just talking and goofing around, than he had anywhere in a long time. Though he liked Derrick, he began daydreaming about the scholar finding something else to do and leaving them as the other men had. When he arrived on the third day, though, Finn was glad to see him.

  "Derrick!" he roared. "You sure took your good time! Were you that hurt?"

  "The young lord didn't want me to leave!" Derrick said, showing off gifts he had brought from Adam and Jacob. "He said they were watching out for my health, but I think he just couldn't get enough of my worldly stories!"

  Finn crossed his arms over his chest and adopted a haughty look. "Hmph! If he thinks your 'worldly' stories are good, he should listen to some of mine. I'd show him what a real storyteller is!"

  Jogging over to meet them, Rose yelled, "You mean like the time you called a catapult a cantaloupe for a whole story?"

  "Well, everyone listening was too drunk to realize the difference—except you, anyway. They sound like fine people, Derrick."

  "I'm sure they'd like you, too. They loved Rose! Especially the young lord, Adam—it seemed as if he dreamed of a life like yours, though he doesn't know its hardships. Of course, Sir Jacob just saw Rose as a sister in arms. It's too bad Lord Heron disapproves of our purpose. We're not listening to him, are we? Where are the others?"

  Finn was loath to crush his enthusiasm, but there was no helping it. "We were just waiting for you to arrive, to leave. You've got to understand, we're not prepared for this. Our magesight might not even register the magic here. We're going north, to another ruin Rose went to before. There was quite a big library there, but she could scarcely read any of it then. I know you didn't plan to go there, but could you come and help us?"

  Derrick didn't seem too upset by the news. "Of course I'll come with you. Wow, an Old World library? That's great! I just hope it isn't too dangerous, and we don't have to fight any monsters or archmages."

  Finn supposed that one ruin was as good as another. He just hoped whatever happened, they didn't have to face anything like what Rose had the last time she'd been there. Her uncharacteristic fear disturbed him, and he reassured himself he could surely handle it.

  #

  Having sealed the entrance to the Archmages' Studio, they departed. The trip north took a week on horseback, and as they traveled the weather grew somewhat colder than they were accustomed to. Though it was almost spring down south, here it they still rode over heavy snow and their breath made steamy clouds. They stopped in Whitehill, the tiny trading post turned town nearest the ruin, for information about any changes in the area since Rose's last visit shortly before she'd met Finn.

  She got many greetings with different nicknames and adjectives for her attached, and the one that shook her most was a man's holler of, "Rose the Invincible has returned!" With a shudder not born of cold, Rose decided this was one of the places she felt farthest from invincible in the whole world.

  They found that to the best of the townsfolk's knowledge, nothing much had changed which would concern them. Before departing for the ruin, Rose stopped in front of a squat log cabin. The children playing outside called for their father, and a very stout man of middle years emerged from within.

  "Horace!" Rose yelled in greeting. "Looks like you're as lazy as ever!"

  The thick-bearded man paused a moment to remember who she was, then returned the jab. "Rose! Did you put on those pounds to stay warm here?" They embraced fiercely, and when they released each other Horace nodded. "You are mightier than ever, girl. It must be so, for I will not admit to getting old yet!"

  She playfully flexed an arm, laughing as he admired the thickness of her limb. "You aren't old, Horace. What, did you think I let myself just get fat?"

  #

  Derrick looked curiously at Finn as they watched the reunion. "Who is he, anyway?"

  An edge of anger sharpened Finn's voice. "Horace is the town blacksmith, and a strong warrior. He was also Rose's closest ally for the short time she was here."

  "You don't like him?"

  Finn grunted. "He let her go into the ruins by herself to get horribly wounded and almost die. What kind of friend does that?"

  It seemed sufficient reason to dislike the man, but Rose herself has obviously forgiven him. What else might there be to Finn's animosity towards the blacksmith?

  #

  Though Rose wanted to stay for a few days and catch up with Horace and his family, she noted Finn's apparent discomfort around her friend. While sharing a delicious elk dinner, she caught him glaring silently at Horace from time to time, and once he spat a piece of bone right onto the table. Covering her face in embarrassment, she agreed to leave in the morning. She didn't understand it, though. Finn was normally quite sociable, especially towards fellow warriors like Horace. What was wrong with him?

  She knew he had blamed the townspeople, especially the warriors, for being cowards and not helping her in the ruins, but she thought she'd explained how deeply ingrained their fear of the archmage ha
d been. Besides, she had ended up just fine. Finn was usually a forgiving sort, so how could he sit here in the pleasant warmth of Horace's home with his lovely family and still hold onto anger?

  #

  Despite the others' concerns, it was Horace himself who approached Finn about the issues between them. The two met outside as Finn returned from an extended trip to relieve himself. Stepping close, the burly blacksmith looked up and asked, "I see great anger in your eyes as you look at me. What grudge do you bear against me?"

  Finn could hardly keep from raising his voice. "You, the person Rose thought she could rely on the most, let her go to die alone in the ruins when you thought there was no way she could prevail against the thing there. You all but killed her!"

  A hint of shame appeared in Horace's small eyes as he shook his head. "I tried my best to keep her from going. I told her it wasn't worth it throwing away her life in a futile attempt to free us from that terror, but she went anyway. When she refused to listen to reason, I certainly didn't think it worthwhile to go with her just to die myself as well. I have a family I must feed, and living isn't so unpleasant. Besides, she didn't die, did she? Who knows, if I had gone I might not be here now for you to rage at. Rose doesn't begrudge me for my inaction. Why do you obsess so over deeds long past?"

  Because Rose was his, and any time Horace might have taken away from them gnawed at his soul. Finn held the thought for a moment, but it was so stupid and wrong, in more than one way. She wasn't his—she belonged to no one—and why should he worry about her past wounds? She hardly sweated wounds as she took them, and was fine now, strong despite old pains. So he rejected the strange worries that plagued him, and felt his anger abate and calm return.

  "Sorry, Horace. I don't know what was wrong with me. But I know you didn't mean to let harm come to Rose, if you had a choice in the matter. Let's go back inside and learn to enjoy each other's company, for her sake." The blacksmith nodded and they returned to the house, where they spent the rest of the night in joyous feasting.

  #

  So the trio did stay as long as Rose had first intended and then some, as Derrick couldn't get enough of the town's unfamiliar customs. After a week though, Finn grew impatient to search the ruins and they finally left, full of excitement and in Rose's case, a bit of fear.

  She knew the creature was dead, and there was nothing to be afraid of, but couldn't help feeling anxious as she remembered its awesome power. Some great warrior she was, to have nightmares of her greatest victory! Where was her pride at the memory of overcoming her most insurmountable challenge? But self-admonition did little to soothe her tension, and her mind grew ever more restless.

  It seemed the archmage's presence still lingered in the air years after his death. Even Derrick, with his great anticipation to see the ancient library, showed a hesitance to descend into the cave which housed its lair. The trio's eyes darted back and forth as they advanced, though the peaceful silence of the caverns gave no obvious reason to be afraid. As they forced themselves onward, the dread grew so palpable as to seem a physical force, a thick miasma that slowed their steps and quickened their breaths.

  Rose saw one corpse that had not been present the last time she'd been here. She wondered with a shudder if the fellow had been fear-stricken to the point of not being able to go on, and thus died slowly and horribly of cold or thirst. To her surprise, Finn's steps soon grew so hesitant the group barely made any progress at all. So she and Derrick flanked him and assured him they would protect him from harm, as they dragged him along at their swifter though forced pace.

  "Now I understand why you were afraid to come back here," Derrick said. "It's intense, this fear, whatever its source is. Is it the residue of the archmage's evil? It isn't something we can fight with our hands, can we?"

  Despite her own distress, Rose tried to sound reassuring. "We can fight it, with our minds. It can't really harm us unless we let it. Even though the strength of this terror is great, it was greater still when its source lived, and even then it proved not to be infallible. Don't forget that."

  Finn looked at her, eyes bulging with fear. "How did you ever win a battle under this crushing terror?"

  She was quiet for a long while then. "There was nothing else to do, I suppose. No matter how afraid I was, I was more afraid of dying so young and alone, here in the darkness." She wondered why Finn was taking it so badly. He was normally fearless, moreso than her; where she began to doubt herself, he would erase that doubt with his bravado and cheer. Now, he was whining like a baby!

  Come to think of it, his emotions had seemed to be all extremes since their arrival in Whitehill, and maybe even for a couple days before. Now, if it had been her, she might attribute her strange temperament to the cold. But she doubted that Finn was somehow even more vulnerable to the chill than she.

  Though it was tough on all of them, to everyone's surprise it was Derrick who seemed least affected by the unnatural dread, and began to cheer on his frightened warrior friends. Perhaps his rational mind gave him this strength. Eventually, the trio did reach the entrance to the archmage's lair. They entered, to be dwarfed by its sparkling walls and great domed ceiling. Lying in the center chamber, they saw the body of the archmage.

  Rose shuddered as she gazed upon the desiccated, though surprisingly well-preserved, pieces of a corpse. The sight seemed, however, to have the opposite effect on the two men. Finn in particular looked to have a great burden lifted off his shoulders as he began to mock the inert form. "This is what we were so afraid of?! I'm ashamed to have to admit it! It's just another man, and not even a big one at that. What makes this thing so powerful? It looks as dead as any other corpse to me."

  Derrick laughed and nodded in agreement. Rose could guess what they were thinking. The thing might have been mighty in the past, but was thoroughly dead now. Both men stepped around the corpse as they continued forward, and seemed to banish the fear from their minds. But Rose still stood before it and stared, frightened to walk past and in doing so turn her back on it. A baseless fear to be sure, but one she held nonetheless.

  Finn looked back at her and yelled, "Come on, Rose! It's just a withered bag of bones! How can a one like you cower before that?"

  She looked up, wracked with agony despite her lack of physical wounds. "If you, too, had seen what this once was, you would hesitate too."

  Not understanding, Derrick asked, "What could be so frightening that in death, it still troubles you? Tell us, maybe recalling how you overcame it will relieve your fear."

  Rose's voice was barely more than a whisper when she began to talk. "I'll be brief, for I can't stand to think of it. I came here while serving as bodyguard to my merchant friend Alex, but during my stay I learned that an unknown, supposedly immortal creature of massive size abducted travelers around Whitehill at its leisure, leaving everyone nearby in fear of the evil magic it was said to wield.

  "It was widely thought by the townsfolk that the creature lived in these very ruins, though the only known entrance seemed too small for such a beast. But this was never proven, because no one who went to confirm it came back alive. So being the foolhardy adventurer I was—and still am, I suppose—I went there myself, though everyone who didn't hate me outright begged me not to. I thought I was prepared for any foolish beast, but though the foe I found in this cavern had the body of a beast, it possessed the intellect not merely of a man, but a man above men—an archmage.

  "The creature was as long as six horses—not counting the tail—and tall as three, and had the appearance of a great hulking, winged black lizard. It was covered in an armor of scales like steel shields, with claws and teeth the match of a small army's blades. Not only that, but it was capable of speaking through thought, and when it saw me, it talked to me of horrible things. It told me it loved experiencing the terror of the people it killed, and ate human souls to expand its own knowledge through absorbing theirs. And it told me... that mine was the next it would consume and extinguish forever."

&n
bsp; Derrick rolled his eyes, and Rose glared at him. What the hell was his problem? A scholar was supposed to keep an open mind! He struggled to spit out the words, "A-a dra-dragon?! Did it breath fire and cast spells too? Rose, Finn may humor you because he likes you, but I really think you had a bout of madness last time you were here. No human can fight a dragon alone and survive, and besides, there's no way that's a dragon's body."

  Anger pushed Rose's fear aside to an extent, and she scowled and said more loudly, "Look at the gouges and burn marks on the stone floor. What do you think did that, if not a dragon's claws and breath?"

  Both men looked down and saw the evidence of the beast's presence. The stone even looked to have been partially melted and rehardened in some places. Derrick gaped incredulously. "But how did you ever manage to beat it?"

  Rose frowned. "Look, I was trying to get to that part. Now, if you please, let me continue. I may be foolishly brave, but I like to think I'm not a fool in other matters, and not being a total fool, I went to several of the areas where it was thought to have attacked. At some of these sites, I found marks of intense flame on the trees and rocks. So before I went to seek out the beast, I soaked a heavy cloak in water and allowed it to freeze in the cold air. I carried the frozen garment uncomfortably on my back as I fought the beast with my sword held two-handed; I needed the extra punch.

  "I used my agility to frustrate its attempts to snatch me while attacking with my sword. But its armored scales made it nearly impossible for me to wound it, and I tried to get closer so that I could strike at its underbelly, which I hoped to be more vulnerable to my blade. Then, it unleashed its flaming breath, but I was ready for that.

  "When it opened its mouth to spit death, I charged at it, whipping my frozen cloak before me. The flame was so intense, the ice was melted and the water dried in a second, and I was badly burned when the cloak was set ablaze before I could reach the dragon's head. I had to run the last few steps through that fiery hell unprotected—boy, that was rough. But I stabbed through the inferno and put out the beast's eye. Then, I thought victory was mine, but it wasn't to be so easy.