The Ventifact Colossus (The Heroes of Spira Book 1)

by Dorian Hart

  They had gathered in the commons of Seablade Point’s only inn, the Old Keg, enjoying mugs of excellent beer that cost a mere copper chit each. Half the town’s population must have been crowded in there as well, mostly fisherfolk who had ended the day early as a pounding rain pelted outside.

  Dranko had suggested that before they interrogated the townsfolk, they should mingle and make friends. Now he was in his element, regaling the locals with tales of adventure, while Tor sat nearby interjecting dramatic flourishes to the narrative. A crowd had massed around them; even one stranger in town was rare, let alone such a motley half-dozen as Horn’s Company. Dranko had already fielded a number of questions about both his scars and his tusks but didn’t seem to mind. Now he was retelling the Battle of the Gopher-Bugs.

  It was a good sign that they had come to terms with the awful events of that place and the death of Mrs. Horn. Even though they had only known her a week, almost every night now someone recalled a bit of wisdom she had imparted or a kindly remark she had made. The grief was still there, but it had taken on a soft glow. It was like a fire you didn’t want to touch, but the warmth of which was almost a comfort. Whenever he was feeling timid or lost, he imagined her face, her smile, her encouraging words. Stay positive, Ernest.

  A gale of laughter came from Dranko’s table. Ernie admired his lack of self-consciousness about his appearance. Would Ernie be as outgoing if he looked like that, with tusks and all those scars? And yet there was something paradoxical about Dranko’s behavior, where on the one hand he was crude and abrasive, always wanting to drive people away, while on the other he lapped up attention like a hungry cat at the milk bowl. Maybe he was just desperate to leave an impression and didn’t care what kind.

  Morningstar was sitting quietly at the end of their long table, ignored by the townsfolk, chin propped in one hand. Dark circles beneath her eyes betrayed a profound weariness; her encounter with Aktallian must be affecting the soundness of her sleep. He too would be nervous about going to bed, if a murderous warrior could show up in his dreams and skewer him like a sausage! But beyond offers of moral support, he wasn’t sure how he could help.

  Aravia was alone in a corner of the commons, nose in a book, one hand flipping pages back and forth while the other raced across her own notebook with a pen. She had been like that the entire voyage, studying Abernathy’s books with a fervent energy that impressed him mightily. Ernie figured she had spent more time reading in the past week than he had done his whole life, unless you included recipes.

  He still found it unsettling that his friends weren’t fretting more about Grey Wolf’s disappearance. Aravia in particular had barely reacted at all, as though people vanished out of ships’ holds every other day where she was from. Yes, of course, there was nothing they could do, and Horn’s Company needed to stay the course and learn about the Kivian Arch, but still. Surely there was some precaution they should be taking.

  Ernie shook his head, took a long pull at his beer mug, and looked around the Old Keg one more time. He felt restless. They should be finding out what they could about the arch. Grey Wolf wouldn’t be sitting around waiting for someone else to take charge, that was for sure! As Kibi was unlikely to strike up a conversation with strangers, Ernie took it upon himself to start the investigation. On the ship they had decided that there was little reason to be circumspect; Abernathy hadn’t mentioned that Levec, or the Kivian Arch itself, was anything particularly secret.

  He flagged down a serving woman.

  “Excuse me, miss?”

  A buxom, button-nosed lass approached, swaying and weaving between the close-set tables. She was near his own age, maybe a bit older, and she looked upon Ernie with a mischievous smile. “Yes, handsome stranger?”

  Ernie flushed to the tips of his ears. “Uh, hello. I…this is excellent beer!”

  “Thank you, good sir. Might I ask your name?”

  “Ernest. Ernest Roundhill.”

  “Pleased to meet you! My name’s Perri. Do you always carry a sword, Ernest Roundhill, and travel with such outlandish folk?”

  Perri sat down into the chair opposite and brushed back a fetching strand of auburn hair from her face. “We see so few strangers here,” she said before Ernie could answer her questions. “The supply ships come every couple of months, but the sailors are all the same. Boorish, flea-ridden, with bad teeth. But you’re something different, I think. You’re certainly better looking than most of them. Tell me, where are you from?”

  Ernie was terrified of girls, to be honest about it. He had tended to freeze up when the lasses back in White Ferry tried to flirt, but this was…well, something different all right. Certainly none of them had come right out and told him he was handsome. Silently he thanked the Gods that Dranko was too distracted to have overheard, or who knew what sort of crude jests he’d be making right now.

  “White Ferry,” he said, before hastily adding, “That’s near Tal Hae. On Harkran. It’s, uh, far from here. On a ship. We came on a ship.”

  He forced himself to stop talking.

  “I’ve never been away from Seablade Point,” said Perri. “I’ve been listening to your friends’ tale, and your life sounds so exciting!”

  She leaned towards him, probably because it was so difficult to hear over the noise of Dranko’s oration, which had the side effect, no doubt unintentional, of revealing even more of her cleavage than had already been evident. Not that he had noticed that! Ernie did the proper thing and maintained studious eye contact.

  “Oh, it is,” he said. “We’re on an important mission right now, to, uh…”

  Abernathy had suggested not mentioning the archmagi or the Spire during their investigations, but those limitations made it difficult for Ernie to properly convey the gravity of things. He groped for some word that would express the unimaginable import of their work, but came up empty.

  “…to find an important person,” he finished lamely. But Perri’s attention didn’t waver, and if anything she leaned a bit further in his direction. Eye contact!

  “Who are you looking for?” she asked. “And why would an important person come to Seablade Point in the first place?”

  “Well, there’s a man who’s lived here for a long time, and we were hoping to speak with him. His name is Levec. Perhaps you know him?”

  Perri sat up straight, curtailing his view. Not that he was disappointed! “Oh,” she said. “There was someone here called that, I…I think. But he left.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. Do you know when he left, and where he went?”

  Her eyes became unfocused, as though she were trying to dredge up a very old memory. “I’m not sure. Maybe…a year ago? And I don’t know where he went. He just…went away.”

  Her coquettish manner had altogether vanished, which left Ernie feeling both relief and regret. She stared over his shoulder for another several seconds.

  “Then maybe you can help me with something else,” said Ernie. “We’re also looking for a big stone archway, probably in the nearby woods.”

  She didn’t reply right away. Ernie tried to place her expression. Puzzled?

  “That does sound familiar,” she said slowly. “But…no, an arch? In the woods? No, I’m sure I’ve never heard of it.”

  Ernie was puzzled as well. “If you’re sure you’ve never heard of it, then why does it sound familiar?”

  “I guess I was wrong. There’s no arch here, Ernest. Not that I have ever seen. Enjoy your beer.”

  She retreated quickly, leaving Ernie bewildered and just a bit crestfallen. Not wanting to disturb Aravia, he wandered to the far side of the table where Kibi sat with his beer, eyes half closed.

  He recounted his brief conversation with Perri, even including her possible interest in him as a physical specimen—though he added that last part only because the sudden change in her demeanor at the end was so peculiar. Kibi stroked his beard and looked Ernie up and down.

  “Well, you are a right handsome fella, so I ain’t s
urprised about that part.”

  “That’s not the point!” Ernie nodded toward Perri, who had drifted to the far side of the commons to collect some empty mugs. “I think she knows something, but doesn’t want to say.”

  “You want me to go have a chat with her?”

  “No. I don’t want her to think we’ve come to harass her.”

  Kibi pondered another few seconds. “Would be strange if you struck up a chat with the only person in town who wants to hide the truth. Maybe we oughta ask a few more folks and see if they all clam up the same way.”

  Ernie glanced over at Aravia, thinking maybe he would risk bothering her after all, just long enough to ask her advice, but she had already put down her book. The fingers on her left hand twiddled in a practiced gesture, and she moved her head slowly from side to side, taking in the whole of the Old Keg commons. Her right fist was clenched, but yellow light leaked out from between her fingers. Was she gripping one of her heatless light coins? Abruptly she stood, stuffed her books back in her pack, and walked straight to Morningstar. She whispered something in the Ellish sister’s ear, upon which Morningstar rose and sauntered towards him while Aravia moved off to where Dranko and Tor were holding forth.

  “Aravia says we should talk outside,” Morningstar said. “She said she’s discovered something important.”

  They regrouped out on the street. Ernie pulled his cloak’s hood up over his head to ward off the rain, though the wind made that something of a fool’s errand.

  “Why aren’t we having this discussion back inside?” asked Dranko. “It’s dry and full of cheap beer in there.”

  “Because we can’t trust them,” said Aravia.

  “Who?” asked Morningstar.

  “Listen,” said Aravia. “I’ve been trying to learn some simple utility magic from Abernathy’s books, and one of the spells I’ve learned is called aura sense. It lets me detect anything that’s magical—or has a spell cast on it—within about a hundred feet of me. I thought it would be useful in case we ended up tromping around the forest looking for a big magical archway.”

  “Makes sense,” said Kibi.

  “It worked exactly as I expected; the spell indicated a minor enchantment on a magically lit coin. Oh, and also on your sword, Ernie.”

  “Really? Pyknite is a magic sword?”

  “Yes. The enchantment is not powerful, but your blade is certainly ensorcelled.”

  “And you had to drag us out into the rain to tell us?” Dranko grumbled.

  “No, no, it’s not that. It’s not just my coin and Ernie’s sword that are magical. So is every single person in that inn. All of them. It’s a moderately strong enchantment mixed with an enervating vitamancy.”

  “What does—” Tor began.

  “Life force,” said Aravia. “Vitamancy is a school of magic that deals with life energy, typically by either bolstering it or draining it away. These people are all afflicted with that second one. Enervating.”

  “I was just talking to, uh, Perri,” said Ernie. “One of the serving girls. It seemed like it couldn’t hurt. But when I asked her about Levec and the arch, she got kind of confused.”

  “What does that mean, kind of confused?” asked Morningstar.

  “Like…like she knew for a second and then forgot? Or maybe that she knew, but was afraid to tell me and so pretended she didn’t know. She did say that Levec left town about a year ago, but didn’t seem very sure of herself. I don’t know exactly. I can go back and talk to her again.” And this time he might manage not to babble so much.

  “She’s probably lying about Levec,” said Aravia. “Abernathy told us he was still sending reports up until a couple of months ago. It’s possible that the whole town is involved in something nefarious, so I’d suggest not talking to anyone else until we find out more.”

  “Maybe we should go searchin’ for that arch,” suggested Kibi.

  Dranko blew rainwater from his lips. “Now? In this downpour?”

  “We’ll be camping out in the rain anyway,” said Aravia. “The only place to stay in this town is where we just came from, and it’s filled with people under the effects of unknown magic. We can’t trust them.”

  “We still have an hour or two of daylight left,” said Tor. “Why not check it out right now? Abernathy told us more or less where to look, and Aravia can cast her aura finder spell. And Levec could be at the arch right now. If he is, we’ll have found both things we’re looking for with just a bit of walking. Come on!”

  At least it was a place to go. While none of the rest of the company seemed to share Tor’s optimism, they all seemed wary of the Inn of Enchanted Villagers. Ernie certainly was, despite the lingering and pleasant memory of Perri’s auburn locks. So off they marched, putting their backs to the southern end of the peninsula and heading inland toward the hilly forest where the arch was supposed to be. There was no road to follow, but a narrow weedy footpath along a low stone wall took them most of the way to the woods.

  On the far side of the wall a farmer was out working in her field despite the rain, pulling up weeds from a row of young cabbages. She stood, stared, waved, then returned to her labor. Aravia slowed and dropped to the back of the line as she wiggled her fingers.

  “She’s the same as the others,” she said, a bit breathless. “I wondered if maybe the Old Keg itself was the source of the enchantment, but my hypothesis now is that everyone in the town is affected.”

  The forest was sparse and easily negotiated but still offered decent protection from the rain. Ernie pulled the soggy hood of his cloak away from his head.

  “So, Aravia,” said Dranko. “Since it’s going to be dark soon, can you do your magic thing and get us where we’re going? I thought the whole point of you learning that spell was as an arch detector.”

  “Yes,” said Aravia. “But I’ve cast it twice already in the last half an hour. I need a few minutes to recover. I’ll be able to cast it again, but I’d like to get a little closer to where we think we’re going before I do.”

  The forest was dim and growing dimmer by the minute. Ernie remembered he had one of Aravia’s glowing coins in his pocket and pulled it out. It was still thrilling to hold an enchanted object in his hand, one created by a wizard that he personally knew. No, two objects—the sword Pyknite was magical too. Did it have hidden powers? Old Bowlegs had often said that his blade hated goblins; maybe he meant that more literally than Ernie had suspected.

  “That’s going to wash out my darksight,” said Morningstar. “And give us away to anyone who might be watching.”

  “But the rest of us have to see,” said Tor. “And if there’s anyone out here, I say the sooner we confront them, the better.”

  Morningstar sighed. “We shouldn’t be so quick to—”

  “Excuse me,” Kibi interrupted. He had also produced a shining coin and was peering at the ground ahead. “I’d say you can stop bickerin’ since it’s obvious where we’re headed.”

  “Did the rocks tell you?” asked Ernie.

  “Nope. I’m just noticin’ all them footprints where we ain’t been yet.”

  Out came more light-coins, until everyone but Morningstar was holding one and bending low to the forest floor. Sure enough, coming in from behind them at a slight diagonal and leading off into the recesses of the wood was a trampled down swath of churned mud. Many sets of footprints were evident, though most of them, where such detail could still be made out, had been made by bare feet.

  “That’s more than just a well-traveled path,” said Tor. “It looks like dozens of people have been coming this way for months.”

  “There and back,” said Aravia. “The prints seem evenly divided in which way they’re facing.”

  Ernie stared at the ground. “I wish I knew more about tracking. Can any of you tell how fresh these are?”

  Dranko crouched and leaned until his tusks nearly grazed the dirt. “Pretty fresh, I think. I can still make out individual toe prints.”

  “Then let�
��s follow them,” said Tor, and he bounded forward through the trees, leaving the others to either follow or let him go alone.

  Ernie dashed to catch up. “Tor, remember what might be going on here. Abernathy said an army once invaded through the arch, and they might be trying again. Slow down and let’s stick together, okay?”

  “If there were an army out here, we’d hear them,” said Tor. “Stop worrying so much.”

  Ernie flinched; that was the sort of thing someone would say right before a hail of arrows or a rampaging bear attack. But the only sounds in the darkening wood were from the boots of the company and the drip of water down from the trees.

  They discovered the Kivian Arch only ten minutes later—so hardly more than a half hour ramble from Seablade Point—and Ernie was overwhelmed by its immensity. He gazed up in awe, light-coin held in his upraised hand. It stood watch among the trees like a silent giant. The keystone must have been forty feet off the ground, and his parents’ house could have sat comfortably between the arch’s legs.

  “Freestanding, triumphal, unadorned entablature.” Kibi, standing next to him, didn’t seem to realize he was talking aloud.

  Ernie was impressed. “What does that mean?”

  “Oh,” answered Kibi. “That jus’ means the top part a’ the arch is flat on top instead of curved, and ain’t got no fancy carvings.”

  Dranko strode directly over to the nearest of the massive pylons. “I know this will shock everyone, but the footprints stop directly beneath the arch. So what we’ve got is, a whole bunch of townsfolk come out here pretty regularly in their bare feet, dance around under the arch, then go home again, and they don’t want to talk about it with strangers. Must be one heck of a party!”

  “Could they be going through the arch?” asked Tor. “Maybe it’s already opened!”

  “I doubt it,” said Aravia. “The mass of footprints is all around the area under the arch, on both sides of it. If they were going through it to Kivia, most or all of their prints would only be on one side.”