Eye of the Moonrat (The Bowl of Souls: Book One)

by Cooley, Trevor H.

  It still didn’t sit well with Justan. “Surely you could have helped earlier. A wizard with your power could have stopped the fight before it began, couldn’t you?”

  Valtrek smiled a sad smile and shook his head. “I am afraid not. Though I do indeed have vast powers, they are not in the realms of offensive magic. The one time that I could help was in putting out the fires that my students so stupidly started. I know that it doesn’t sound like a very good reason on the surface, but I must ask you to trust me. I would have done more if I could.”

  “I see, sir.” Justan still wasn’t convinced, but he evidently wasn’t going to get any more out of the man, so he let it go. Another thing had been plaguing his mind. “You mentioned the frost rune on my chest earlier. Can you tell me anything about it?”

  “First you must tell me how you got the rune.” Valtrek’s expression turned to one of curiosity. “Tell me everything you can remember about it, no matter how insignificant it might seem.”

  Justan related the story of the Scralag and how it had touched him. The wizard’s brow was furrowed in concentration and he never interrupted. When Justan finished, Valtrek looked just as confused as he was.

  “This is quite a mystery. A spirit would not mark you without reason. It must have a very pressing need to keep it waiting around in those hills all these years. I cannot tell you much more than you already know about this, but there is a wizard at the school who might be able to help you. His name is Locksher, and he has the most brilliant deductive mind I have ever seen. This sounds like a puzzle that would strike his fancy. Yes, you should see him as soon as you get to the school.”

  “Do you think he can get rid of the rune?” Justan was very eager to get the symbol off of his body. He hadn’t allowed himself to dwell on it, but it bothered him to have a ghostly rune imprinted on his chest. It was creepy.

  “I do not know. But if anyone can help you, he can.” The wizard put a hand on Justan’s shoulder and led him back to the camp. Against his will, Justan found that he was starting to like the man in the white robe.

  Later that evening as he lay in bed, Justan’s abdomen began to cramp up. He soon learned what the dwarf had meant when he said “keeping the kiddies awake.” He also learned that the pepper-beans hadn’t stopped burning when his mouth did.

  Justan did not get much sleep that night.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “Wake up, Justan. We’re ready to go,” Riveren said, nudging Justan with his boot.

  “Wha . . . ? Okay.” Justan sat up with some effort. He felt like his body had been turned inside out. His head pounded. His tongue seemed to have had swelled to twice its normal size and stuck to the roof of his mouth.

  The air was getting colder as the winter season approached, and he had to rub his arms to keep down the goose bumps as he stumbled over to get a drink of water. Luckily no one teased him about his condition for he was not in the mood. Justan wondered if Professor Valtrek had intensified his body's reaction to the firewater just to teach him a lesson. Well if that was the case, it was one lesson that Justan considered learned. He could not think of anything that could get him to drink again.

  The caravan started moving. Though his body screamed in protest, Justan stubbornly pulled his gear together and jogged behind the rear wagon for the first several hours of the morning. The dwarf, Lenui (whom Justan still thought of as Lenny) sat on the rear step of the wagon and chatted with him. Justan couldn't understand how the dwarf could have drunk so much more than him and still be so cheerful in the morning.

  The jog was invigorating and helped Justan to beat back the aching in his body. Later, as Justan joined Lenny on the back step, he felt much better. He relaxed and watched the scenery go by as the dwarf told him about the town of Wobble where they would stop later that day.

  Wobble was located on the very fringe of the stretch of hills that started at the base of the Trafalgan Mountains and ran for miles in every direction. The Scralag hills by the city of Reneul were an extension of these hills. The town had been built there by opportunistic dwarves years ago when the Battle Academy started expanding and the need for quality weapons grew.

  “It all started with Old Stangrove Leatherbend. I believe he's kin of mine from somewhere down the line. Anyways, he lived up in the Trafalgan Mountains and he heard about yer Battle Academy and packed up all the weapons he could carry and took ‘em down to the main road, here. The border patrol caught up to him and he sold his stuff so durn fast that he decided to make the trip again.

  “Well, as you'd imagine, ever'body else saw how quick he got back and how full his purse was and they pried the story out of him. The next time Old Stangrove took the trip, half the village followed him. Well, son, with all the gold they got from that trip, they took a shine to that there place. Hell, some of 'em never left.

  “Next thing you know, there was a whole new village right on that spot. First, they called it Stangrove, but there are so many quakes in those hills that they started callin' it Wobble. And that's the name that stuck.”

  While Lenny told him the story, Justan watched the scenery change once again as hills and boulders began to rise out of the prairie grass. They were surely nearing the town, for Justan could see trails of smoke rising from behind the hills ahead. Riveren and Zambon soon rode back to talk with them.

  “We’re almost there, Justan.” Riveren said. “The town of Wobble, where a man can find the best weapons in Dremaldria! They may be a bit expensive, but they are well worth it!”

  Lenny snorted. “Don’t be foolin’ yerself. They ain’t the best around. Sure, them weapons are good if yer just a soldier. But if you plan on bein’ a true warrior, or gettin’ a name fer yerself, there are lots of better places to find real weapons.”

  Riveren seemed slightly offended. “Don’t listen to him, Justan. This is where I got my axe and I believe that Zambon got his sword from here, too. The work these dwarves do is excellent.” He turned to his fellow academy graduate. “Am I right?” Zambon nodded in agreement.

  Lenny hopped down from his perch on the back step. “Lemme see yer oh so fine axe then.” Riveren smiled and handed it over. The dwarf twirled it through the air with ease and whistled through his missing tooth.

  “Yeah this is right fine . . . if you need to chop wood! One day, you come to my forge in Dremald and I’ll make you a battle-axe so fine, it’ll sing on the battlefield!”

  “Sing?” asked Zambon, skeptically.

  “Hell yes!” Replied the dwarf. “I’ll show you what I mean.” He walked to the side of the road where a dying tree stood. He swung the axe with one powerful stroke and drove it halfway through the tree’s thick trunk. He stood back. “Okay, this is a sturdy weapon, I’ll give you that.” Then he pulled his hammer from the straps on his back. It was shaped like a sledgehammer with blunted striking ends on both sides of the head. The shaft was about three feet long and thick, also made of metal. The weapon was blackened by years of use at the forge and its head was covered in Dwarven runes.

  “This is Buster. It was made by my great granddaddy, and it’s been passed down through the family for years. This thing’s been used to make more fine weapons than I can count. Now watch this.” He turned to a granite boulder that stood as tall and thick as he was. “See that rock?”

  Lenny spat on his hands, leaned back, and swung the weapon with all the force he could muster. When the hammer hit the boulder, there was a sound like thunder. Pieces of rock flew everywhere, pelting Justan and the guards. When the dust cleared, nothing but a pile of small rocks remained where the boulder had once stood.

  Lenny grinned, his face covered in rock powder. He lifted the powerful hammer and kissed it, leaving a film of black dust on his lips. “Now that’s a weapon that sings!”

  No one could disagree. While Riveren was trying to tug his axe free of the tree trunk, Justan had to ask Lenny a question.

  “How did your hammer do that?” He knew the dwarf was strong, but there was no way he was
that strong.

  “Why the durn thing’s magic of course!” The dwarf explained. He lifted the head of the hammer up so Justan could see it better and pointed at the symbols. “See them runes? Thisun's the weapon’s name.” He pointed to what looked like a broken line. Next he pointed to one that looked like two circles crossing each other with wavy lines through them. “This is the one that gives it the power. Whenever I hit somethin’ with Buster, it makes twice the impact. The rest of these squiggly lines are just fer show.”

  Justan was puzzled.

  “I thought that dwarves don’t have magic powers.” Dwarves were known as having no affinity for magic. In fact it is said that even wizard’s spells don’t have much affect on them.

  Lenny shrugged in response.

  “Well if you don’t, then how did your great grandfather make a magic hammer like that?”

  “Don’t need to have any dag-blasted magic powers of my own, to shape what’s already there,” Lenny explained. “Look here, son. Dwarves are the best there is at forgin’ metal. But even the best-made weapon’s just nothin’ but a piece of scrap if it ain’t got magic in it.” Lenny leaned in close to whisper in his ear. “So what the Firegobbler family’s always done is mine the best ore we can find and then have it magicked. With magic ore, I can make a weapon to do whatever I want.”

  Justan’s eyes widened a little and he reached back to finger the hilt of one of his swords. “Are these . . .?”

  “What in tarnation? Of course not! Do they seem magic?”

  “Well, no.”

  “There’s no way I could make every weapon I make magical. That ore’s way too expensive. If it were that easy ever’body’d have one. Now the second set of swords I made fer Sir Hilt, them’s magic. No, I only forge them kinds on rare occasions. I only make things that special for friends.”

  While they were talking, the caravan had continued on ahead of them. As soon as they were able to work the axe out of the tree, Riveren and Zambon rushed back to flank the wagons.

  As Justan and Lenny hurried to catch up to them, Justan was amazed by the difference in these hills and the ones by his home. While the Scralag Hills were made of brittle shale, these were made of hard granite and had been weathered into rounded shapes by the wind.

  With all of the earthquakes in the region, many of the hills had cracked and split. The ground between them was littered with boulders of all sizes. Some of them were so big that when the road was built, instead of moving the boulders to go through the hills in a straight route, the road wrapped around them. Vegetation was fairly sparse in the area. Nothing grew in the granite dust but a few tufts of grass here and there.

  They caught up to the wagons just as the town of Wobble came into view. Justan was in awe. He had never heard of a town like this before. Most human settlements were made of brick or wood, while in this place every building was made with huge granite slabs.

  “Lenny, why are all the homes built that way?”

  “Well, boy, if they made em’ out of bricks, the quakes’d tear em’ right down. As it is, they’s gotta be real careful how they put em’ together so they don’t break apart. Even inside the house, you gotta bolt everthin’ down or else you’d always be pickin’ yer junk up off the floor.”

  “Then why live here with all the earthquakes? Why not move closer to Reneul?”

  “Where? In the plains? Nah too much open space. ‘Sides, stuck between the hills like this, you could defend the town from an army.”

  Dwarves were determined people. They could take any inhospitable land and make it their home. Here in these hills of solid rock, they must have moved at least two or three entire hills of granite to clear the flat land that the town occupied. Wobble wasn’t huge. There were only thirty or forty dwarves living there. But they had landscaped the place so that it had a pleasant, homey feel. The dwarves had even found a way to plow the rocky ground and bring in soil from the plains for several small gardens. Even though the place wasn’t as big or fancy as some of the human cities, Justan was amazed at the simple hard work that had made this town a home for these hardy folk.

  The place was made all the more cheerful by the singing of the dwarves as they labored. They were short, ranging anywhere from three and a half to four feet tall, and built like the rocks they lived in, with barrel-like chests and rough, chiseled features.

  Dwarves were by nature a tough, sturdy people. They could live up to three hundred years without slowing down. They were resistant to most poisons and magic, and could survive about anywhere. A dwarf could take a grievous wound that would kill a lesser creature and keep fighting. But even though they loved a good battle, the dwarves preferred to keep to themselves. They rarely get involved in such things as war. Except for supplying the weapons, of course. However, if they ever were pressed into a war, they stuck together. A dwarven army was a powerful force indeed.

  As Justan and Lenny came further into the town, they were assaulted by a rather portly looking dwarf with a full beard that hung to his shoes, wearing a wide brimmed hat. He had a necklace made of what looked like goblin teeth hanging around his neck.

  “Lenui! Lenui!” The dwarf yelled in a deep voice. “You confounded son of a rock monkey! You took yer gall-durn time gettin’ back here didn’t you?”

  Lenny scowled. “Chugk! You should keep yer dag-blamed nose out of my business!” They frowned at each other a moment longer, then both burst out laughing. Lenny put his arm around the portly dwarf’s shoulders and turned to Justan. “Boy, this is my fat baby brother. Chugk, this is my new friend Justan from Reneul.”

  Chugk grinned showing that he was missing more teeth than his older sibling. Justan wondered if some of the teeth on the necklace were his.

  Justan thrust out his hand. “I am glad to meet you Chuck!” Chugk shook his hand tentatively, but decided it wasn’t worth the hassle to correct the mispronunciation of his name. “I must say that I am impressed with your fine town,” Justan continued.

  “Yeah! Fine town all right!” Chugk laughed. “Fine town if you like eatin’ rocks fer dinner and pickin’ yer teeth with goblins! We should all move out and settle somewhere in the mountains where life is easy! Of course, you sure can sell some goods here, though.” The dwarf slapped Justan on the shoulder and turned to Lenny. “Speakin’ of goods. Yer ore is here, Lenui.”

  The dwarf’s face lit up.

  “It’s about durn time!” He turned to Justan. “That’s the real reason I’m here, son. I've been waitin’ on this new batch of magical ore fer weeks!” He took Justan’s hand and shook it with gusto.

  “I guess I’ll be takin’ my leave now. It’s a plum shame I can’t be travelin’ with you the rest of the way, but I need to finish up some business ‘round here. If you ever come to Dremald, come see me. I might even make you a real weapon, if you pay the right price.” He slapped Justan on the back one more time for good measure, and then both brothers scurried off.

  Justan smiled and shook his head as he watched them speed down a side street. He would miss the energetic dwarf. He decided that if he ever had a chance, he just might take the dwarf up on his offer.

  Justan rejoined the rest of the caravan as they stopped for provisions. Everyone except Valtrek was searching for needed items in the small town marketplace. Justan found Vannya and Pympol haggling with a dwarven lady over the water prices. They just finished the deal as he walked up. Vannya noticed him first and smiled. When Pympol saw Justan, he rolled his eyes and pointed at the dwarf.

  “Hello, Justan.” Vannya said. “Nice of you to join us. This is Miss Hegla,” she said, gesturing to the dwarven woman.

  Dwarven females were built much like the males, with stocky but tough bodies, chiseled features, and even beards. It was said that, to a male dwarf, the thicker the beard on a woman the better. The dwarven woman grinned and waved while she walked over to a curve metal tube that was sticking out above the ground.

  “She is giving us a most fair deal on our new water supply,” Vann
ya continued.

  While the dwarf’s back was turned, Pympol leaned over to Justan and whispered, “These dwarven women are repulsive. Couldn’t tell that one from a man.” He broke into laughter. Vannya shot the man a withering glare.

  Justan didn’t join in the laughter. Even with the beard, the dwarf had . . . womanly attributes. It struck Justan as quite rude for the mage to make fun of a woman who he didn’t even know. He walked over to where she was busily cleaning out the curved end of the pipe.

  “Hello, miss. My name is Justan from Reneul,” he said. She smiled and nodded at him. “Where do we go to get the water?” he asked the dwarf. There was no well that he could see, and there surely wasn’t a stream nearby. When she responded, Justan was taken aback by the difference in her accent from Lenny and Chuck’s. She actually sounded quite normal.