A Gossamer Lens (The Legend of Vanx Malic Book 10)

by M. R. Mathias

  Book Ten – A Gossamer Lens

  M.R. MATHIAS

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any form, including digital, electronic, or mechanical, to include photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the prior written consent of the author, except for brief quotes used in reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction. All characters, names, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  Mathias Publishing

  © 2016 Michael Robb Mathias Jr.

  Created in the United States of America

  Worldwide Rights

  Thanks to JT for ALL the help,

  and to Dominion Editorial for the edit.

  A very special thank you to the great

  Larry Elmore

  who allowed me to grace this book with one of his paintings for a cover.

  See "The Complete Elmore" to find more of his incomparable works.

  Contents

  Map

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  EIghteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-One

  Twenty-Two

  Twenty-Three

  Twenty-Four

  Twenty-Five

  Twenty-Six

  Twenty-Seven

  Twenty-Eight

  Twenty-Nine

  Chapter

  One

  At the first sign of disease, certain shoots and runners should be nipped. Never give a blight enough time to infect the sap, for this could be detrimental.

  –The Tome of Arbor

  Vanx Malic looked at the little blue spider still spinning its web inside the box. It did so inside the open ring of the golden looking glass he’d found. The Goss, as the tiny blue marked, arachnoid was called, was no less strange than the box or the looking glass. And the magic of the web it spun was far stranger than any of it. Or maybe it was the looking glass that added the magic? Vanx hadn’t figured it out yet.

  Either way, by looking through a lens formed of the spider’s silk, he’d seen the pages of the Tome of Arbor come to life. This time he was hoping to have a longer experience and a chance to read what was written about each tree.

  Of course, he would do those things after he learned where the sapphire gem-seed in his satchel needed to grow and made sure they were on the fastest route there. They had very little time to place it and, if they failed, they would all die, so getting that part done was paramount.

  His ship, the Adventurer, had taken them out into the open sea, where they were, more or less, sailing in circles, waiting to learn where they needed to go. The sea was calm but the swells were large, and they caused the ship to lean one way or the other as it went.

  The island they’d just left could still be seen on the horizon. The consensus was that no one on board wanted to go back there right now. Millions of spiders, some marked with red glowing starbursts, some marked with bright blue stripes, or splotches, as the Goss was, were all battling in the forests. A score of albinic, ship-sized, tarantulas that looked to have not seen the light of day for the entirety of their lives, had joined the fray as they were leaving. Vanx figured the island’s three boundary walls were down for the pale spiders had come from the second area they’d visited. The area where that coral blue dragon had shown itself.

  There were giant crabs, birds big enough to snatch an elf from the ground, and packs of savage bear-sized, ring-tailed, tree-coons, too. Those were probably trying to survive the spiders this very moment, but there was also that dragon. The wyrm was coral blue, or maybe light-turquoise. Vanx hadn’t been able to study the qualities of tone because he’d been trying to keep from getting eaten as Moonsy’s friend Anitha had. The wyrm had captured Vanx’s attention, though, in a way nothing had in a while. He’d shared time with mighty Pyra, had ridden her back, and battled powerful evil with her.

  It was a glorious feeling.

  Losing so much could crush a person. Vanx wouldn’t let that happen to himself. There was a hole in his heart, and there always would be, but he would not fall into despair over losing her.

  Pyra was gone now, but Vanx longed to ride a dragon again. Zeezle tried to make contact with another wyrm, where they’d rooted the great elmwood Heart Tree. Zeezle probably felt the same sort of emptiness over Kelse, the great green dragon’s death, as Vanx felt.

  It wasn’t as if Vanx had a choice, though. The world was off balance, and the abnormal size of the swells tilting the ship seemed like proof. He peeked under the lid of the looking glass’s wooden case and saw that the Goss was still busy spinning its web. It paused, and Vanx wasn’t sure, but he thought it might have looked back at him and smirked.

  Vanx’d figured out that it was the Goss he’d faced in that cavern back on what he would forever recall as Spider Island. Whether the Goss was really that big, or really this small, was the question. It had only fought him long enough to see if he had mettle. It had been testing him. And now, as Vanx thought more about it, he figured the tiny Goss had needed the power of something in that cavern to become so large and intimidating. It was tiny, and no matter how much Vanx didn’t like it, for the time being, the spider was somehow bound to him. Vanx would end that, one way or another, when this was done, and since he was only half human, and therefore not fully controllable, the Goss agreed with the sentiment.

  “Where are we going?” Chelda asked from the doorway to his cabin. She was naked, having stripped on deck to make sure she had no spiders in her clothes. Due to her gargan size, she had to stoop over, causing her heavy breasts to pendulum about. She asked him a serious question, but his eyeballs followed her tits until Gallarael’s wooden cup bounced off his head.

  “Please put some clothes on.” Vanx rubbed at the knot.

  “Bah,” Chelda scoffed.

  “The Goss hasn’t shown me yet.” Vanx glared at Gallarael. “Now, both of you, leave me alone until this is done.”

  “There are seven extra people aboard, Vanx.” Chelda growled.

  “Six,” Vanx corrected, reminding her that one of their group had been eaten by the lake dragon before Vanx froze it. She grunted and made her way to the galley, where they were all sleeping and all their gear had been stowed.

  Master Ruuk and his group of Zythians were still on board and, as guests, they used Vanx’s Captain’s Cabin and Chelda’s forecastle bunk room at night. But, according to the Goss, there were only days left before the moon would turn and the world would wobble off its course through the ether and end them all, so the Zythians were along for the ride whether they wanted to be or not.

  Unless the Goss sent them to Zyth.

  Vanx paced across the floor to shut the door, but Master Ruuk shouldered his way in, and Gallarael came with him.

  “They would get out from underfoot if you’d let them come down,” Ruuk said.

  “I want privacy for this, Good Master,” Vanx was politely stern talking to his elder. Ruuk just nodded in silent agreement and slid into the booth, opposite where Vanx had been sitting. Gallarael slid in beside the older Zythian, allowing Vanx all the room of the other bench seat.

 
; This time when Vanx opened the lid to the looking glass case, the web was complete. He made an audible gasp and picked it up by the handle. Magic tingled through his hand, and up his arm, before spreading through his whole person like a fever chill.

  Somewhere above deck, Poops let out a howl of pleasure as the dog felt the same sensation through he and Vanx’s familiar link.

  The webbing was fragile and bowed with its resistance to the air. When the strands stretched, they crackled a sizzling blue color, like winter lightning or a lampfish’s bright glowers.

  Vanx was compelled to turn the pages of the Tome of Arbor with his free hand. He let the magic direct him with as little resistance as he could manage.

  With frantic, unnatural speed, he thumbed through a quarter of the book, only to stop and start going back slowly. Then he was there.

  On the page was a map. It showed part of Zyth, and Dragon Isle. It even had Parydon Isle, and the Sea Spire, but the spire looked like a crumbled hill not a sharp black needle. It was marked with—

  “Look through the lens, fool.” Master Ruuk shook his head.

  Vanx did so, and he saw the last thing he wanted to see.

  In the mountains, deep into the continent the Parydonians had laid claim to, there was a strange tree sprouting and growing on the page, as if it were formed of some magic flow of spilled blue ink.

  Vanx pointed to the place, knowing the shapes of the land masses had been clear even before he’d looked through the lens.

  “That’s the farkin’ crags,” Gallarael cursed. Which only happened when something was truly worth cursing over. “Far beyond the boundaries of my brother’s kingdom. The giants reign there, and the ogres are as thick as flies.”

  “Great,” Master Rukk said. “The Zythians on deck are nearly petrified with fear, as it is.”

  “Shhh,” Vanx shushed them as he looked deeper into the gossamer lens. He understood that, at best, with all their combined magic, they might take three to four days to get the ship to Dyntalla, and from there the location was easily a five or six day trek, unless they left the Zythians behind.

  If Moonsy rode Vanx’s dog, Sir Poopsalot, he and Chelda could keep up with them, well enough, and trim a day and a half. Gallarael could easily stay ahead and scout the way.

  If they landed on the little beach Vanx knew was between the sea and the Wildwood, they could save another half day.

  In the lens, he saw the details of the area the Goss intended him to see. There was a pond, formed by a wide flowing stream. It sat in the bottom of a deep valley. A valley too far into the treacherous mountains for his comfort, but there it was, surrounded by strange white bloomed trees with what looked like upward pointing pinecones, only made of thin petals, not hard fibers.

  Vanx tried to turn the page of the book to find the type of tree he’d seen growing blue, but the web burned away. The acrid smell that filled his cabin forced him to open the hatch and let fresh air in just to stop coughing.

  After the air had cleared, Vanx put the looking glass back in its case and closed it. He put the case and the Tome of Arbor in his satchel and urged Gallarael out of the cabin, toward the galley.

  “Tell the Zythians they can come down now.” Vanx grinned through his concern. “After you drop us on the coast, Ronzon and the Adventurer will take you all to Flotsam.”

  “What if I want to go with you?” Ruuk looked serious.

  “I won’t stop you, but you’ll have to keep up.” Vanx shrugged. “The moon will turn far too soon, and the world will come apart before we can even make it to the location the Goss showed me, as it is. There will be no dallying.”

  Chapter

  Two

  If you want to keep your gizzard,

  you should never trust a wizard.

  – Crimzon

  After discussing it all over that night’s supper, it turned out that Master Rukk wasn’t the only Zythian who wanted to go with them. Another, who was a little older than Vanx, and had some experience, did, too. Vanx was glad it was Master Practon. He’d gone onto the spider-infested island with them, and Vanx knew he wouldn’t panic if things got tricky.

  Gallarael was against Vanx’s idea of landing in the Wildwood instead of Dyntalla. Vanx couldn’t blame her. She’d entered that place a fairly-innocent princess and ended up whatever she was now, a changeling, a shapeshifter, whatever? But, in the end, she was agreeable to the plan, if that is what you could call it.

  Gallarael had a valid argument, saying they could get horses and mountaineering supplies in Dyntalla, just on her name. But Vanx reminded her the truth of it. They would be hassled and questioned, and slowed, just by having to explain themselves. She was the King’s sister, and her presence there, or anywhere in the human kingdom for that matter, would cause an uproar.

  If they were hassled in the Wildwood, they could just use Moonsy and Ruuk’s protective spells, or diplomacy, and keep going. The kobles, and the lesser ogres they might come across, would want no part of this group, Vanx figured. And if they were challenged, Chelda could smash their skulls flat with her war hammer.

  The river that fed all that vegetation would be flowing slow for autumn was upon them. The wash-out along the river bed would make a perfect trail to follow inland. They didn’t have time to worry about cold weather gear for the world would come apart if they failed. The climbing equipment Gallarael spoke of could be rigged out of rope, hinge pins, and the smaller block and tackle they had on the ship. It would be crude, but it would keep them together if they needed it to.

  Vanx thought he had everything covered.

  “I suggest that Chelda be in charge of rigging the personal lanyards.” Vanx gave Gallarael a funny look. Chelda was on deck, probably telling Ronzon and the younger Zythians some wild tale. “She has the most climbing experience.”

  “I can out climb all of you,” Gallarael fired back.

  “But we can’t grow claws,” Vanx squeezed her shoulder and fought back the revulsion thoughts of her changing caused to roil through his gut. “I meant Chelda knows best how to make use of what we have, for those of us who can’t scale cliff faces and folded stairs. She grew up climbing mountains.”

  “What about Poops?” Gallarael asked then.

  Vanx pondered it a minute, even though he knew the dog would go. He didn’t like going anywhere without his familiar, but the mountains would be a challenge for the pooch.

  “I think Moonsy will ride him and protect him fiercely.” Vanx finally said. “Just like Thorn did.”

  “Yup,” Gallarael said the single word, mocking Vanx’s use of it. This caused them both to laugh, but Vanx noticed Master Ruuk wasn’t even smiling.

  Vanx grew serious. “Did you know him well?” Vanx asked cautiously. “The Zythian who was—well—who was taken by the lake wyrm?”

  “Nah, nah.” Ruuk waved a hand to show he wasn’t dwelling on that. “He was a good person, but I hardly knew him. I was just wondering about the giants.” Ruuk unrolled one of the maps Vanx often used because it showed all the ports in the area.

  They were still in the Galley, it being their turn to clean up after the evening meal. Moonsy wiped the central table clean so the old Zythian could use it as a map table. “This far into the mountains,” he pointed to roughly where Vanx had indicated they needed to go. His finger was at the farthest edge of their map. Their destination, Vanx knew, wasn’t even on the parchment, “there are savage tribes of barbaric giants, and they are constantly warring over territory.” He studied the map a little closer. “Could you call Master Practon down before you retire? I may have a way to save us some more time, but I would confer with him first.”

  “I’ll tell him,” Gallarael said, brushing by Vanx, intentionally rubbing his crotch with her firm arse. “After I tell Chelda what you want her to do, Master Vanx.”

  Why she continually had to arouse him was a concern. The constant shifting from repulsion to attraction was making his head swim and started to take its toll on his patience. This was
no time for him to be distracted, but then again, they couldn’t really do anything besides lay around until they made shore.

  With that thought, Vanx went down into the bulkhead to look for something to use to make a lifting harness for Poops in case they had to haul him up a mountainside or something. He thought there was a set of leather straps on a pallet that had been brought over from the Ada Rosamond, and he was right. There were some good steel rings and lacing, too. Then he saw the lamp and used a spell to light it and give him a little more illumination. That was when he saw what the stuff was really there for.

  Chelda was making a pair of saddles for the horses she’d left back on Dragon Isle. Vanx was surprised, but not shocked. He knew she was creative, for she’d carved out the detail and painted the Adventurer’s Mystica masthead. The ship was very proud of it, too. She was making two saddles, it turned out. He only hoped she would understand the need here.

  Chapter

  Three

  We’re off to go a questing,

  a questing we will go.

  Who will live and who will die,

  No one ever knows. No one ever knows.

  – A Tavern Song

  “If we are all going to die, if we don’t get this done, I’ll use any of it,” Chelda said. She’d come down and crawled toward Vanx. Vanx saw that, due to her gargan size, she’d had to crawl amongst the barrels and sit cross-legged to do her crafting. “I’ve formed mine and Moonsy’s cantle and pommels already. The rest is just fitting it all together. We can use it, but how’d you know?”

  “I didn’t.” Vanx stooped and now understood what Chelda had to go through when moving about in the normal sized interior of the ship. “I just remembered loading some leather strapping and came to see if I was right.”

  “Don’t tell Moonsy.” Chelda’s tone grew firm. “Her saddle is a surprise.”