The Golden Vial

by Thomas Locke

“Do they respond?”

  “Not like my wolfhounds, no. Impressions now and then.” Dally straightened in the saddle. “This one knows I have only ridden a few times and promises to be gentle with me.”

  The main trail followed the river at the valley’s heart. A narrower route ran a dozen or so paces in from the encroaching forest. Nowadays this was referred to as the guard’s path. Every season the forest moved that much closer, tightening its grip. All the former trails leading into the woods were lost now, devoured by the thornbushes that formed an impenetrable wall.

  Mistress Edlyn asked, “Do you know what your real name is, child?”

  “My . . . I’ve been called Dally all my life long.”

  Edlyn shook her head. “I suspect your full name might well be Dahlrin.”

  There was a spark of memory, sharp and swift as lightning. Dally recalled her father’s smiling face as he leaned over her bed and whispered the name as he lifted her to his shoulder. Then again as her little hand pulled at his whiskers. Dahlrin.

  Edlyn found something in her silence that caused her to smile. “Dahlrin is not a name at all. It is an ancient title, one granted to senior wizards in the time of our war against the Milantians. It means star-fire, and signifies one whose force defies the normal standards of magery.”

  Dally had no idea what to say to that.

  Edlyn nodded as though Dally’s silence was the correct response. “Do you know your family’s heritage?”

  “My mam and pa were valley born and bred, Mistress. We’re coming up on the boundaries of our fields.” Dally pointed to a low rise on the meadow’s other side. The blackened ruins were almost lost to weeds. “That’s where our house stood.”

  Edlyn peered at the vanishing ruins, her smile gone now. As they rode on, she said, “Perhaps we should leave the mystery over your naming for another, safer time.”

  The watchers’ trail shifted close enough to the forest barrier for Dally to see the individual thorns, some of them long as her forearm. It was the nearest she had come since the fire. She felt her fear surge with her rage at the thought of what might be lurking unseen beyond the green wall.

  They approached a gently sloping rise, where soldiers awaited them. A concave slope stretched out on the hill’s other side, where the main troop was stationed. They were split into nine squads of nine, each with a fighter dressed the same as Dally at their center. They seemed to Dally a small and insignificant force against the forest’s silent might. A muscle beneath her rib cage began to quiver. She pressed a fist to her gut, willing it to stop. But the tremors continued to shake her middle.

  She asked, “Mistress, how did you and your mages travel through the barrier?”

  “There are certain questions which must wait for another time. I will answer you, but not just now.” The response carried an easy assurance, as though they strolled through a flower-strewn garden. Edlyn pointed at the wolfhounds stretched out to either side of their company. “It would be good if you could select one of these to be your companion. Once this is over and we return to our temporary keep, all the other wolfhounds will need to be housed in the camp’s main kennels.”

  “Yes, Mistress.”

  Alembord asked, “Will they mind being moved and then separated from you?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Edlyn asked, “Do you have a favorite?”

  “These two,” Dally replied, and pointed to the dogs that trotted just ahead. “The male is Nabu. He spoke to me in a dream as we ran together. It was the only time it ever happened.”

  Edlyn’s eyes widened. “Another astonishment. Child, Nabu was the name of the lone Elven ruler who survived the Milantian wars. He founded the secret kingdom that shelters them still today. Nabu the Great.”

  Alembord asked, “Will the Elves mind a wolfhound taking his name?”

  “It is possible.” She explained to Dally, “When a ruler dies, the name is buried with them, never to be used again.”

  Alembord said, “And the other wolfhound you’ve named?”

  “The female is Dama,” she replied. “She’s meant for Hyam. If he’ll have her.”

  Everyone within hearing range wore a shocked expression. Finally Alembord asked, “Another dream?”

  “In a way, I suppose. It came to me as I returned from the candle.”

  Alembord asked, “Candle?”

  “That too must wait,” Edlyn said. “Go on, my dear.”

  “I sensed that Hyam is wounded. And very lonely.” Dally felt foolish sharing such impressions with this company. She finished, “He needs a friend.”

  Edlyn merely replied, “You know what that’s like, don’t you, needing a friend.”

  Dally did not know how to respond.

  Alembord asked, “You don’t mind losing one of your dogs?”

  “She would be losing nothing,” Edlyn replied. She smiled at Dally. “You have a good heart, young lady. It will take you far.”

  8

  The troopers carried a weapon that Alembord identified by calling for his own halberd. The long spears were topped with blades and axes both. Between the squads and the forest lolled several dozen hounds, with as huge a man as Dally had ever seen at their center. He wore a black leather skullcap and a black vest of some pelt over leather trousers and boots that would have comfortably fit a giant.

  He stomped across the ground at their approach, a huge grin splitting his dark beard. “Would you look at these beauties.” He clumped a fist to his chest without taking his eyes off Dally’s wolfhounds. “I didn’t believe it when they told me. Wishful thinking, I said.”

  Alembord said, “Dally, meet Bear, master of the queen’s hounds.”

  “Will these beasts of yours be making trouble among my lot, missy?”

  “I will see that they behave,” she said.

  “Then you and this lot are welcome, I say. Welcome!” He knelt as Nabu approached him. Bear allowed the dog to give him a good sniff, then laughed heartily and threw his arms around Nabu’s neck. “We’ll give those fiends a right thumping!”

  Colonel Meda came riding up at that moment. She slipped one boot free of her stirrup, swung off the saddle, and dropped to the earth. “The troops are deployed and ready. Best if we dismount, Mistress.”

  As two squaddies gathered up the reins and led the horses away, Alembord asked, “Any sign of the enemy, Master Bear?”

  “The mutts have caught a whiff of the fiends now and again. But then it’s gone off the wind.”

  Meda gestured at a line of fresh blood on her forehead. “I’ve gone up close enough to be scarred by those thorns and detected no movement.”

  Bear said to Dally, “Lass, what say you and I draw those great beasts of yours closer to the forest, see if they can detect something my own mutts have missed.”

  As they walked away from the officers, Dally pointed to his vest. “Is that pelt of yours off a bear?”

  “A bear, you say?” His laugh was as big as the rest of him. “No, lass. It was one of them fiends we’re hunting today. The first I ever took down. Not a battle I’m likely to forget.”

  “They took my family from me.”

  “Aye, that’s what the grey lady said. Well, let’s hope you have your first taste of revenge today.” He pointed to an opening that had recently been chopped through the deadly hedge. “Night before last our scouts spotted one of the fiends making a sortie through here. There’s another tunnel we’ve widened up ahead. We haven’t spotted them since, more’s the pity. Will your hounds know to hold back if they’re challenged?”

  Dally peered through the portal. She could smell the sweet scent of oozing sap. The gloom was thick as the intertwined branches. The odor left her feeling slightly nauseous. “I have no idea, Master Bear. They’ve never seen battle before.”

  “Well, it’s high time, I say. Which of them has the most sensitive nose?”

  Dally pointed to the smallest, who was already closest to the tunnel, her nostrils working. “This one.”
r />   “It’s often the runt of the litter that has the heightened senses. Though you could hardly call any of this lot stunted.” He pointed his chin at the opening. “Send her in.”

  In reply, Dally dropped to her knees and hugged the dog close, willing her to heed the call to return. Then she released the wolfhound and shut her eyes, moving in with the dog.

  The forest sounds were new to them both. The odors were almost overwhelming, at least for a few moments. Somewhere in the distance Dally felt a nudge to her right shoulder, and knew in that detached manner of her bonding that Nabu had moved in close to shelter her during this time of greatest vulnerability. Then she shifted her focus back fully to where the smaller wolfhound stepped tentatively forward, one careful paw at a time. Gradually the sounds and scents began to meld into a keen awareness of this new terrain. Together they filtered out one sensation after another, until Dally could focus upon the odor that most definitely did not belong.

  “Lass?”

  “They’re here.”

  In response, Bear turned and bellowed to the others. Dally heard the running footsteps, but mostly she remained intent upon the sensations beyond the thorn wall.

  Meda squatted in the grass beside her. “Tell me what you’ve found.”

  “There are too many to count. They’re holding back.” Dally breathed in with the dog, tucking the scents into pockets and folds that were only momentarily hers to claim. “They know I’m here.”

  Bear said, “You mean us or the dog?”

  Meda shushed him, then said, “Go on, Dally.”

  “Two of them are moving closer.” Dally felt the lead dog’s growl deep in her chest. She willed her scout to remain fast, but the temptation grew in her like a flame. Then she realized, “It’s a trap!”

  “Time to pull back,” Bear said.

  “Not yet,” Meda snapped. “Describe what is happening.”

  The fiends were silent and swift. They spread out in a pinscher action, ready to close in from all sides. Dally willed the wolfhound to hold her ground, taking in all she could sense. She spoke in tight breaths, half-formed impressions, as the words were not easy to grasp amid all these elements of danger lust. She finished with, “The enemy is not really a forest beast at all.”

  “Just as we’ve suspected,” Edlyn said.

  Dally went on, “There’s true animal in their blood, and something else. Something . . .”

  “Magical,” Meda offered quietly.

  “Very dark. Very old, like a grave that’s been left fallow for a time beyond time.”

  “All right. That’s enough. Come out from there.”

  The dog turned and sprinted out. Dally opened her eyes. She hugged the returning scout and stared at the tunnel lined with wooden blades. A shiver coursed through both of them. Nabu nuzzled closer and licked her face.

  Edlyn asked the colonel, “What are you thinking?”

  “They’re hoping we will attack them on their terms,” Meda said. “We sent in a scout and withdrew it safely. Now they’re waiting for us to move in with force.”

  Dally shivered once more. “She’s right.”

  Meda slipped her knife free from its scabbard and drew a wall in the earth by her feet, thinking aloud. “So here’s the enemy. Set up in formation, on their terrain. Everything’s as they want it. What we need is a lure strong enough to draw them out.”

  Alembord offered, “They need to think we’re weak enough that they can attack and retreat safely.”

  “Magic,” Edlyn said. “Magic is the key.”

  “Weak magic,” Meda corrected. “Something that makes them think our side isn’t strong enough to handle a full-on assault.”

  Dally knew the answer even before Meda finished fashioning the thought. She hugged the scout more tightly still. “I’ll go,” she said. “Send me.”

  9

  There followed a longish pause, as if the day itself needed to ponder Dally’s offer.

  At a sign from Edlyn, her aide left his position in the nearest squad and rushed over. “Mistress?” Even before Edlyn finished her explanation, Myron said, “I should be the one to go.”

  “I’ll have the dogs to protect me,” Dally said.

  “Can’t you send them with me as well?”

  “Yes, but . . .”

  Meda said, “Go on, tell us.”

  “The colonel said we needed to show weakness. Your aide would only be pretending. I’m . . .”

  “Completely untrained,” Myron finished for her. “Utterly without any combat experience.”

  “All she needs is one spell,” Meda said. “Is that possible?”

  “It is,” Edlyn said.

  Myron protested, “You don’t know that.”

  “I am absolutely certain,” Edlyn replied.

  “Mistress . . . then why did you call me over?”

  “Because I want you there in case I’m wrong.”

  Myron chewed on that. “I’ll go. Of course. But . . .”

  “This is for the best,” Edlyn insisted. She reached for the leather scabbard hanging from her belt. “My dear, I want you to take my wand.”

  Dally accepted the device with numb fingers. The wooden handle was longer than Meda’s blade and inscribed with some unknown script. The letters did not appear carved into the surface at all, but rather looked as though they had grown naturally along its length. The wand was topped by a glowing oval gemstone, held in place by a trio of slender roots.

  Myron started, “Do you really think—”

  “I do. Dally, slip the wand into your belt there beside your sword. That’s it. Now listen carefully.” Edlyn spoke a series of slow syllables, enunciating each very carefully. “Can you say that?”

  A very unique sensation filled Dally. It seemed as though she had known this spell since birth, even before then. As though it was a vital component of her bones and sinew. She repeated the sounds and felt a power surge through her, rising up from the earth and causing her entire being to resonate.

  “Perfect the first time,” Myron said, looking astonished.

  “Very good, my dear. Now this time when you say it, on the last syllable I want you to extend the hand that will be holding the wand. Hard, like you are thrusting a sword into your enemy. Ready? All right. Go.”

  Dally turned slightly so she faced the thorn barrier, and did as Edlyn instructed. When she reached the final syllable, she stabbed her empty hand, willing it to carry destruction to the fiend that had destroyed her home.

  Directly ahead of her, the thorns trembled slightly.

  Bear said, “Did you see that?”

  “A wind,” Myron said.

  Meda replied, “There’s not a hint of breeze.”

  Bear chuckled. “The lady’s a natural, no question.”

  Edlyn nodded approval and told the group, “We are ready to proceed.”

  10

  As Dally moved through the thornbush tunnel, one of the wooden blades snagged her right shoulder. Perhaps she was not paying careful enough attention, as her every breath was filled with the dark unknown that awaited her. But she suspected the bushes possessed the ability to snare those who encroached upon their territory. It was hardly a glancing flick, yet still the thorn sliced through her singlet and her skin. She felt little more than a pinprick, but the blood was soon streaming down her arm. It stained her sleeve black and dripped off her fingers onto the earth.

  As she passed from the tunnel into the forest, Dally debated turning around. Going back to sunlight and safety. The wolfhound to her right sniffed at the blood pooling on the earth and whined. Then again, Dally reflected, perhaps the wound would heighten her ability to play the lure.

  If only she was not so afraid.

  Then Myron hissed softly from behind her. The sound was enough to spur her forward.

  Dally had only brought Nabu and Dama with her. These were the pair she could most trust to do exactly what she ordered. She had discarded the idea of coming in unaccompanied. The fiends had been aware o
f the dogs before, so they needed to sense them now.

  She closed her eyes and extended herself into Nabu, long enough to be certain the shadow-beasts clustered together just beyond her field of vision. She opened her eyes and searched the distant trees, trying to detect movement, but saw nothing.

  Then she had an idea.

  Dally closed her eyes once more, this time reaching farther than ever before. Out to where the enemy watched. She approached them, fearful, tremulous, but doing it just the same . . .

  And struck a wall as dark and forbidding as the grave.

  She retreated and opened her eyes, regretting that she had failed and relieved at the same time. But her attempt had brought two new realizations.

  The fiends were closer than she’d thought. They could not be seen, however, for they possessed the ability to warp the forest shadows into a cloak.

  She realized something else as well. The beasts assumed they held complete dominance over this situation. She represented no real threat. The forest was now their realm. They had conquered it. She was the interloper. They sought a measure of her force, just as Meda had suspected. But not because they feared her. They wanted to know what strength was held by the soldiers beyond the thorns. They would study her assault. And then they would destroy her. And afterward defeat the soldiers. Then devour the entire valley.

  The prospect of more families enduring the pain and loss that had dominated her life for these long years filled Dally with a rage so potent, all her fears simply vanished. The terror she had known was consumed like a morning mist facing the noonday sun.

  Dally directed the two dogs to gather behind her. Then she drew Edlyn’s wand. She did not call out the spell. She screamed the words with all her might.

  The resulting blast plucked smaller saplings out by their roots. Even the tallest trees were shaken to their very foundations. The shadows hiding the beasts were obliterated. The enemy tumbled about.

  The fiends were momentarily stunned by the force of her spell.

  Then they tasted Dally’s blood.

  It had sprayed out with her spell, blown into a fine mist that now engulfed the animals’ senses. Their natural fury turned to a blind and ravenous hunger.