The Wandering War--The Sleeping King Trilogy, Book 3

by Cindy Dees

  Eben shrugged. “We’ve got the boat. And I defy anyone other than a lizardman or Merr to survive those currents.”

  “Still. Let’s get moving.”

  They untied their ferry rope and turned their attention to the island before them. It rose steeply from the shore, rounding out into a domelike crest. Several hundred strides inland, they finally came to the main trunk of the gigantic tree dominating the island. This had to be the King’s Tree. Will laid his hand on the trunk and reeled back as it reacted to him with a bolt of recognition. Or perhaps it was reacting to Bloodroot within him. Either way, it hurt.

  Without warning, a figure appeared in front of them, an elf who appeared middle aged—which meant he was ancient by human standards—his face covered in a fine fretwork of dark lines that formed a spiderweb. “Well, now. This is a surprise, Ayli,” he said.

  Clearly not a pleasant one.

  Ayli spoke for them. “These children need to speak to the Elder of the Guardians.”

  “No.” The one-word reply was flat, firm, and instantaneous.

  Hah. After all they’d done to get here. All they’d sacrificed. An image of his parents’ faces flashed through his mind. His home. The normal life he’d left behind. Will replied strongly, “We’ve spent two years looking for you and have endured grueling hardships along the way. We’re not leaving until we finish what we’ve come to do.”

  “You must leave. Now.”

  Raina stepped forward. “What my blunt friend was trying to say is that we have a mutual topic of interest to discuss with you. We can help you achieve your fondest wish, and we want to help you.”

  The elf’s eyes narrowed skeptically as he stared at her. “What wish would that be?”

  She held her right fist out, showing the man the creamy white, carved ring upon her middle finger. “Perhaps you recognize this?”

  The elf moved swiftly, snatching at the ring. Lakanos lurched forward to block his way, but Raina intervened, saying mildly, “Let him try to remove it from my finger.”

  The zinnzari reached for the band, but his fingertips had barely grazed the carved unicorn horn before he staggered back, staring at both ring and girl. He whispered, “Who are you?”

  “That is what we would like to discuss with you and your companions,” Raina replied.

  “Follow me.”

  In a few minutes, they stepped into a small clearing with a half dozen tiny cottages clustered in it. More elves of varying ages, but all heavily armed, stepped outside.

  “Show them the ring,” their guide said without preamble or introduction.

  Raina complied.

  “How did this come into your possession, girl?” one of the elves demanded.

  Will was amazed. He’d never seen elves be so rude before, completely ignoring all etiquette or social niceties.

  Then one of the elves turned on him without warning. “Who are you? Why do I sense strange magics in you?”

  “Strange? Me? She’s the arch-mage.” He pointed at Raina.

  His attempt to deflect attention from himself had no effect. All the elves were staring at him now. And frowning. Hands were edging toward weapons.

  “Look. We’re really here to help you,” he tried. “And we hope you can help us. We have no hostile intent. I swear.”

  “Then why do we sense that in you which is anathema to us?” one of them demanded. “We are sworn to kill you, spawn of the Destroyer.”

  * * *

  Raina was surprised when Lakanos, of all people, intervened to save Will from slaughter. “I’m afraid we are not getting off to a good start,” he said. “Let us begin again. I am Sir Lakanos of the Royal Order of the Sun, and this is Emissary Raina of the White Heart.” The knight quickly introduced all the members of the party, ending with, “And I believe you know the lady, Aylinoor, who was gracious enough to bring us to you.”

  “The lady you speak of has shunned our society, sir knight. Her introduction is meaningless to us.” The elf rounded on Will. “Who are you, boy, and why do you stink of the Betrayer?”

  Swords appeared in the hands of the zinnzari. Her friends reacted no less quickly, and in seconds, an armed standoff was in full force.

  “Stop!” Raina cried. “My friends and I found the Sleeping King’s dreaming echo on the dream plane, and he set us the task of recovering his regalia and bringing it to his body. Unfortunately, forces hostile to him now seek to destroy him. We have come to you to help us wake Gawaine before they succeed.”

  At the sound of his name, the elves sucked in sharp breaths. “Why should we believe you?”

  “Because I’m telling the truth,” she answered simply. She reached into her pouch and pulled out Gawaine’s crown. Another gasp from the elves.

  Eben stepped forward. “And here is his bow.” The elves made sounds of disbelief, and Eben added wryly, “Trust me. It’s his. I’m no great shot, but I haven’t missed a target once since I picked this thing up. It definitely has powerful magical qualities.”

  An awkward silence fell, and Raina spoke into it. “The land needs its Mythar, and Haelos needs its king. The portents have been read and events foretold. It’s time to end your long bondage to Hemlocke and wake your king, children of Zinn.”

  “Pretty words,” the zinnzari scoffed. “But nothing more.”

  Raina replied, “We’re going to wake him with or without your help. If you choose to break your vow to him now, when he most needs you, that’s your concern. He will be disappointed that his elite guard abandoned him. As will the spirits of your ancestors.”

  “You know nothing of our ancestors!”

  Will piped up. “We’ve met their spirits in the grove where they guard their king into eternity. They know full well what goes on here.”

  “Who do you believe betrayed Gawaine?” Raina asked boldly. “Rudath?”

  “Although the troll king slew Gawaine, he was the puppet of another,” one of the elves intoned. “Bloodroot, born of death and destruction, destroyed our king. He whispered in Rudath’s ear, twisting his mind and inciting him to violence.”

  Will’s hands fisted, and his entire body shook with what looked like rage. On cue, Rosana laid a steadying hand on his arm and whispered something to him. Raina prayed he could hang on to his temper—and the temper of Bloodroot—long enough to get past these stubborn zinnzari.

  Will’s mouth opened, and a voice nothing like his came out, rough and deep. “Upon my life, I had nothing to do with Rudath attacking Gawaine.”

  Was that Bloodroot speaking? He’d never spoken directly before. Amazement warred with worry for Will. Had he finally been taken over by the treant?

  Will-Bloodroot continued, “I admit that I whispered to the greenskin races of the unfairness of their treatment and that the beautiful, flawless elves were better loved by the Great Circle than any others. But never—ever—would I have done anything to harm the Mythar.”

  Will looked as staggered as the elves.

  “Who are you?” one of the zinnzari whispered.

  “I am who you think I am. Show them my seed, Will.”

  Will opened his shirt to reveal the bloodthorn disk grown into his chest and the telltale angry red scars emanating outward from it.

  “This human boy acts as my host.”

  A buzz of consternation broke out among the zinnzari, but thankfully, no one raised a sword to Will’s neck.

  Bloodroot continued in that gruff, rusty voice, “Never would I unbalance nature or harm the Mythar. My purpose may be death, destruction, and rage, but my result is renewal and rebirth. I vow to you upon my honor and upon the life of my human host I do not lie to you.”

  “Hey, now,” Will protested in his own voice. “Don’t be tossing around my life so freely.”

  Raina was immensely relieved. Her friend was still in his own body.

  But then Bloodroot continued, talking over Will’s objections, “I never told Rudath to kill Gawaine nor did I ever whisper anything to stir Rudath to such drastic a
ction. I swear. It was not my idea. I did not betray the Great Circle, the Mythar, or you. I joined this boy to help him restore the Great Circle and wake Gawaine.”

  Raina looked over at the zinnzari hopefully. Please believe him. Please. They were so close now. They had to wake Gawaine, and soon.

  * * *

  Aurelius looked down over the edge of the waterfall in distaste. The Nyghtflume was no small river, but its fall was so great that it looked like a thin ribbon of white that dissolved into mist far below.

  “How are we supposed to get down there?” Selea asked skeptically.

  “There’s a path, I’m told. Behind the falls.”

  “And we can’t use magic to expedite this? Maybe a series of feather falls?”

  Aurelius pulled a face. “If only. I sense great proscribing spells upon this place. No magic to enhance movement would work here.”

  “Mayhap that is a sign that we’re getting close to our goal,” Selea murmured.

  Aurelius paced along the edge of the cliff and found what they sought only feet from the precarious bank of the river where it plunged over the edge. A notch in the rocks, a step barely wider than his shoulders. He tested it gingerly. “It’s wet. Slippery. Be careful.”

  They started the long descent into the Griefalls. He was too old for this. He’d tried to leave the quest to younger people with fresh legs, quick reflexes, and a burning need for adventure. But he hadn’t counted on his own wish for one last moment of glory, his desire to feel young and vital and important. He was insane to be running around out here, facing unknown threats and treacherous climbs best left to the younglings. And yet, he took the next step. And the next.

  * * *

  Will’s throat felt like it was ripping free of his neck, the timbre of Bloodroot’s voice was so harsh. For that matter, his entire body felt as if it was being torn asunder by the strain of containing Lord Bloodroot’s spirit. He realized with a start that he had fallen to his knees. Will struggled to stand upright and was appalled that Rosana and Sha’Li had to help him.

  Another zinnzari barged into the clearing, panting. “Intruders come—” He broke off at the sight of their party.

  Will spoke up quickly. “Whoever comes is not with us. Only the people you see here have Gawaine’s best interest at heart.”

  “And yet you led our king’s enemies to his doorstep!” one of the zinnzari cried over his shoulder as all the zinnzari guardians raced out of the clearing, leaving the party standing alone in the clearing.

  “Do we go help them?” Sha’Li asked.

  Will shook his head. “We should look for Gawaine’s body and protect it.”

  “Agreed,” Raina said quickly. “It must be near here. Not only does the ring feel practically on fire, but the zinnzari would stay close to him.”

  A quick circuit of the forest around the clearing yielded no sign of Gawaine, however. They’d started a second, wider sweep of the island when they heard sounds in front of them. Someone was talking in low, furtive murmurs.

  Will gripped his staff more tightly and hand signaled the others to prepare for combat.

  Air currents swirled the mist, stirring it around him, revealing and then hiding the vague outlines of at least two dozen men. He peered through the fog, looking for colors or something to identify them. And then he spied a face that made his blood run cold. He turned back on his friends, plowing into them in his haste to flee.

  Anton Constantine.

  In the confusion he’d caused, he ordered frantically, “Run!”

  * * *

  Sha’Li, who’d been bringing up the rear of their party, suddenly found herself in the lead as they reversed course and fled from whatever or whoever had panicked Will. She headed into the forest of tree trunks, leaping over small roots and dodging around the big ones. With no destination in mind, she ran blindly, seeking routes that would allow for maximum speed.

  Whether it was random chance or some greater force guided her steps, she couldn’t say, but all of a sudden, a clearing of sorts opened up before her. The tree trunks were less dense here, and through them, she glimpsed a large, round carving in the side of an upthrust of the native rock that formed the island.

  As she sprinted toward it, she realized it was not a carving but more likely a door. It stood half again as high as a man and was covered with intricate symbols arranged in a spiral pattern that covered the entire giant panel of what had to be nullstone.

  Unfortunately, her interest in the door had caused her to run to it, and all her friends had followed her. They fetched up in front of it now, effectively trapped against its unyielding surface.

  She ran her hands across its bumpy surface, searching frantically for a handle or latch, but found nothing. As her friends formed a defensive arc behind her, she examined the door more closely, looking for some sort of hidden release mechanism. Nothing.

  Lakanos called, “We need to find a more defensible position! Someplace where they can’t flank us!”

  Will called back, “Over there! That cluster of trees!”

  Sha’Li looked where he pointed and spied a U-shaped grouping of the descending tree trunks. If they could all fit in there, their pursuers would only be able to attack through the small front opening, bringing to bear at most four men at a time. It would equalize the odds against them. Their little party could front four of its own fighters, and most of the pursuing force would be neutralized, unable to attack through their own people.

  They raced over to the cul-de-sac, reaching it just as a stream of men raced into the clearing. Her blood ran cold as she spied what—who—had made Will panic. Anton Constantine was bringing up the rear of a column of upward of a hundred armed fighters. They moved like soldiers, but none of them wore Imperial colors. No matter. They were the enemy and must not stop her and her friends from getting through that door.

  As Will, Rynn, Cicero, and Lakanos stepped into the gap and prepared to fight, Sha’Li glanced back at the door. Something about it looked familiar. She focused on the symbols, and that was when it hit her. The book Kerryl Moonrunner had left for her in that cache in the Angor Swamp last fall!

  She fished frantically in her belt pouch and pulled out the small, strange volume. Circular in shape and bound with metal hinges and wooden covers, it was part book and part box. The front cover and first thirty pages of the book were real enough, but behind the parchment leaves had been a small chamber, just large enough to hold the nullstone amulet she now wore around her neck.

  Unlike most of the nullstone pieces they’d seen before, carved or inlaid with gold, her amulet was a flat disk that covered most of her palm, its carvings passing all the way through it, forming an intricate shape. It looked as if a razor-sharp quill had written a symbol all the way through the thin stone. She’d spent hours perusing the book’s odd, symbolic writing that started at the edge of each page and spiraled toward the center, and she had not found a symbol to match the one on her amulet.

  She quickly scanned the door’s symbols now, searching for the familiar sinuous shape etched in her amulet.

  “Incoming,” Will announced.

  She turned to face the fight beside Eben. The two of them would jump into the gap when one of their companions was wounded or armor badly damaged. All the fighters would take turns dropping back to receive healing or make quick armor repairs while the others held the line. And in the meantime, Eben pulled out Eliassan’s bow and commenced shooting over his friends’ shoulders as targets presented themselves to his deadly aim. Ayli and Rosana were already in place, tucked in tightly behind the fighters, using their friends’ bodies for protection as they cast protective spells and healing by touch into the fighters.

  All in all, they made a lethal door-fighting force. Anton and his mercenaries were going to have their hands full routing them out of this spot.

  The first attackers surged forward, and a clash of metal and shouting deafened Sha’Li. Her own claws slithered out, and she bared her teeth aggressively. She’d
waited a long time to take a piece of flesh out of Anton Constantine.

  * * *

  Hemlocke shivered as danger rippled across her exquisitely sensitive skin. Someone touched that which was hers. It had better not be the zinnzari pastors who served her. How dare they! Surely, they knew death would follow if they made any attempt to enter her lair, home to her greatest treasure of all.

  Almost fully awake, she pushed with her great clawed front feet, rising to her haunches and unfurling her wings. Blood flowed into them, rich and hot, bringing strength to tendons and bone, engorging the delicate membranes in between.

  Irritated, she swished her tail, once, hard. Coral crumbled into dust, and the bubble around her wavered violently, threatening to collapse.

  Alert now, she stretched her awareness outward, encompassing land and sky, plants and creatures, the ebb and flow of life as clear to her as the breath flowing in and out of her lungs. And as fire began to build in her throat, so did fury build in her heart.

  * * *

  Will settled into the rhythm of fighting, instinctively finding the patterns of the battle and spotting the weaknesses of his attackers. He didn’t actually like killing people, but the rush of letting his training take over, of flowing from one strike to the next, the cold satisfaction of mowing down those who stood against him was intoxicating. If Bloodroot enhanced that feeling, so be it.

  Anton seemed satisfied to throw his men at them, apparently on the assumption that his superior numbers would overwhelm their much smaller force. But Will hadn’t set up a door fight for nothing. He and his friends fought Anton’s men to a stalemate and made it clear that they could sustain this sort of fight indefinitely. If Raina could just stay conscious and functional behind him and his companions, they could stand here for hours against Anton’s men.

  The ex-governor was not known for traveling with many healers. The Heart tacitly despised him and few of its members would work for him, and furthermore, Anton was prepared to let his men die where they fell for the most part. To him, soldiers were expendable resources to be used and discarded as needed.