As the Dragon Tooth Spire loomed larger before him, he was thinking about spending the winter at Lakeside Castle with Queen Rosa, trying to make an heir. The sudden burst of a flock of dactyls taking flight startled him. The big birds had a ten-foot wingspan and razor-sharp beaks as long as a man’s forearm. These were smaller than most dactyls, but there were hundreds of them. A great cloud of thumping wings exploded out from the nooks and crannies near the lower part of the black rock formation. He was forced to go around them in an arcing loop so that he came at the worm hole from the side. He’d never seen so many birds at once, and he suddenly realized the damage that a flock could achieve if they acted in concert. Without a thought, he drew Ironspike and called forth all the shields that its power could generate.
He was surprised when he guided the bright horse into one side of the opening. The cavern beyond was relatively empty-just old bones as big as he was littered the place. Pieces left from Claret’s many meals, he figured. He wondered how the dragon had stayed sane living in the jagged black cavern for so many centuries. He imagined the diet of snappers, geka lizards, and other marsh creatures had grown old as well.
The bright horse faded away as Mikahl stepped around and over the loose scree to the opposite mouth of the wormhole. He looked down. The dragon couldn’t have ever gone hungry, he decided. Even with his average human eyes he could see at least four huge snappers floating like logs in the grassy pools below. He also spied a camp. A Zard camp. At first this alarmed him, but then he realized that the Zard had to have gone somewhere when Bzorch and his breed giants ran them out of Westland. There looked to be about a dozen of them going about everyday things, like cooking and building. They weren’t planning to march back into Westland, that was clear.
He went back to the other side of the wormhole and scanned the marshes below; more snappers lying in the evening sun, a few more Zard, two of them stalking something with spears, or maybe gigs. Then Mikahl saw two Zard-men hauling what looked to be a struggling, half-rotted man toward a huge, boiling cauldron.
This was interesting.
Mikahl watched as they forced the undead man into the boiling pot. They held him under the water for a long time with long, paddle-like tools. A few moments later a clean skeleton crawled forth, free of rotting flesh and tattered clothes.
Alarms began to go off in Mikahl’s head.
The skeleton was standing there looking at its bony body and legs as if it had just put on a new style of clothing. Suddenly, a large figure, easily twice the size of a big man, stepped out of a tangled patch of willowy trees. The thing looked to be made of moss. Mikahl had to suppress the smile that forced its way through his concern. It was a swamp troll. He’d been told stories of them a hundred times while sitting around the fires and table boards at Settsted Stronghold. He’d traveled its dozen outposts many times as the king’s squire. He'd never once believed the fabled creatures existed, yet here came one, and it didn’t look pleased.
The swamp troll strode up to the freshly boiled skeleton and, with a savage blow, battered the undead thing to pieces. The two Zard-men who were attending the boiling pot retreated and were now hiding in a thick patch of marsh grass. Mikahl watched from above as the swamp troll took the skeleton’s skull and roughly pulled the dangling spinal bones away from it. It then walked over to the boiling pot, sniffed and let out a curious-sounding roar. A moment later it turned and walked right over the skeleton’s rib cage, crushing it to splinters. The swamp troll went back into the trees and continued until it was lost in the deep green hues of its environment.
Mikahl didn’t know what to make of it. It didn’t look like the skeletons that were coming this way were faring very well when they got here. Something told him there was more to this, but he didn’t see an immediate threat. If he flew back to Dreen now, he could get there in plenty of time to leave with his wife, which would make her extremely happy. He had enough time and daylight remaining that, if he left now, he could also make a pass up the length of Dakahn to look for Petar and the pack of skeletons that had assaulted Commander Lyle. He wasn’t about to forget the attack on his men.
He decided he would order a more thorough investigation once he and the queen were in Castlemont. A few breed giants, a hundred men with marsh boats, water mages, and a capable wizard or two should be able to manage. He figured that he should probably send some breed giants with their dragon gun crews to help guard Xwarda’s wall, as well. He knew for certain that there was at least one Choska demon loose, and no telling how many hellcats and wyvern had escaped the Nethers. He had promised Hyden that he would make sure Xwarda was prepared for an attack. He would keep that promise whether he saw a threat or not.
He called forth the bright horse again and rode it out of the dragon’s lair. The dactyls were still swarming around the base of the fang, but he paid them no mind. He did notice that a few of them followed him out of the marshlands, but they peeled off and disappeared once Dakahn was below him. The boldness of the swamp birds gave him pause. He decided that maybe a dozen breed and three hundred men might be more fitting to investigate the Dragon’s Fang up close. He also decided that he should set up a permanent patrol out of Settsted. With what the Zard had accomplished under Shaella before, it would be foolish not to do so. He decided that the same should be done along Dakahn’s marsh border. The organization of the patrols would give him something to do over the long winter months.
He thought about how to initiate his new plan as he flew across Dakahn, searching below for any sign of Petar or the skeleton crew. Twice he thought he saw something, but when he circled lower the first time, it had only been a group of men on horseback traveling from Oktin to Archa. The second time had been a group of night hunters outside of Svorn. Mikahl accidentally scared the pack of swamp swine that they were after. He felt bad for ruining their hunt.
It was late and he decided that he was doing no good. A few long hours later, just as the sun was beginning to rise, he was back in Dreen, landing the bright horse on the balcony of the royal bedchamber. He entertained thoughts of trying to produce an heir that very morning, but Queen Rosa apparently wasn’t so concerned about that issue anymore. No sooner did he wake her than she was rattling off a list of things for him to do. About halfway through, he decided that he might have been better staying out in the swamp.
The soul of Gerard, the Abbadon, Warlord of the Nethers, now resided in Shaella’s resurrected body. Her shaved head reared back in manic laughter. The swamp troll couldn’t have had better timing. The Warlord had given the order for the Zard to go about their business, or hide in the swamp grass when the dactyls had first called out their alarm. They had seen the bright horse coming from miles away. What was left of Gerard decided that if they attacked the High King, even if they managed to kill him and seize the all-powerful blade he possessed, the repercussions would be insurmountable. He wasn’t ready to defend against a full attack from vengeful kingdom men. It was better to hide and wait out the winter while growing stronger and gaining numbers.
The swamp troll had been badgering the skeletons for days. It was widely known that the moss-covered creatures were fixated with skulls. It was sheer coincidence that this one decided to attack the boiling pot while King Mikahl watched from above. It never occurred to the Warlord that all of the skeletons and decomposing undead coming to his summons would lead anyone to his location, but he knew now. He had been so concerned with concealing the movements of the demons and larger things that he had completely overlooked the pesky skeletons. Now that the High King was aware of them, he had to do something. His first inclination was to pulverize their bodies and give their skulls to the swamp troll. Then a better idea occurred to him. If he sent them on a mission, one that would lead them to their destruction, the High King would think the threat had passed.
He decided it should be O’Dakahn. It was the largest city in the realm, and the closest to the swamp.
If Shaella’s mind hadn’t been so barren, he might have bee
n able to do this himself with a simple spell and a flick of her wrist. Instead, he had to order the Choska to command the skeletons. The Warlord hated to risk the creature, though. If it met an ill end leading the skeletons into O’Dakahn, it wouldn’t be able to carry him, in Shaella’s body, into Xwarda when the time came. After weighing the options, he decided that drawing the attention of the High King away from his location was more important than anything else. Shaella’s body was light enough that a hellcat, or even a hearty wyvern could carry her. He summoned the Choska and instructed it to find a place at the marsh’s edge near the village of Nahka and summon the skeletons. Even with help from the Zard, it would take a week or more for the them to traverse the swamp and get there, but other undead from across the realm might come too.
“In ten days, take the undead you’ve gathered and attack O’Dakahn,” the Warlord commanded through Shaella’s body. “Use whatever is necessary and available to get into the city. Lead the skeletons to their doom and be careful to save yourself.” The Warlord ran Shaella’s hand through the stubbly hair on her head. “Return to me once this deed is done, and make sure you’re not followed when you come.”
Chapter 25
Hyden Hawk Skyler finally got hold of himself. He jogged down from the hill he was on and reached out to shake Lord Gregory’s hand. He gave Oarly and Phen big hugs in turn.
“Sorry, Phen,” he said, holding back a laugh. “But it is funny.”
“I didn’t laugh at you when Oarly had you shitting fire,” Phen shot back harshly, but the way he hugged Hyden gave little room to doubt the love he felt for him.
“Aye,” Hyden said, losing his grin for an instant. “Who is she?”
“This is the Lady Telgra,” Phen said, feeling rude for not making the introduction already. “Lady Telgra, this is Sir Hyden Hawk Skyler.”
“Just Hyden, lady,” he replied, with a slightly strained look on his hawkish face. He was about to ask why she was here. His people had no love for the elves. He personally had no problem with them. One of the bravest beings he'd ever known was an elf. Phen saved him from asking the awkward question, though.
“Telgra has lost her memory.” Phen took her hand as he spoke. “She needs the Leif Repline fountain as badly as Talon and I do.”
Hyden immediately noticed the way Phen spoke of her. After a glance at Lord Gregory, and a quick seeing spell that no one noticed, he bowed to her with a smile.
“You may have to suffer my people’s dislike of your race,” he said honestly. “But you are safe here among us. We won't harm you.”
She batted her wild yellow eyes at him nervously and forced a smile. “Thank you.”
“You could have gotten that boy killed, Sir Hyden Hawk,” Lieutenant Welch said nervously.
“Oh, I doubt it,” Hyden grinned. “You and the boy reacted quickly enough, but not that quickly. A real attack on this group at that moment would have ended all of you, save for Phen and Oarly.” Hyden glanced again at Telgra then added, “The lady, and the Lion, would have probably made it, too.”
“What?” the lieutenant snapped, looking at Lord Gregory for support.
The Lion Lord just shrugged.
“My blade could have easily been in that boy’s flesh. It would have, had I not seen it was a boy and not some wild creature.”
“I’m not trying to offend you…” Hyden looked at the man’s collar to see what rank he held. “…Lieutenant. I’m just telling you the facts. Your whole party was surrounded by my clansfolk. If we had meant you harm, you would have been porcupined before your sword came free.”
Lieutenant Welch’s face turned red, but he gave a curt nod. “Point taken,” he said. “Still, even with arrows in me, your man could have felt my blade, had I not seen two horsehide boots sticking out of that hairy thing.”
Hyden extended the man's sword to him hilt first, as if he were reaching to shake the lieutenant’s hand. “Hyden Skyler,” he introduced himself.
“Lieutenant Buxter Welch,” the lieutenant replied. He reached his hand toward Hyden and saw that his sword was being handed back to him. Lieutenant Welch froze in dismay. It was clear he didn’t understand why he didn’t have his own sword anymore.
“I assure you, Lieutenant Welch, my cousin was safe from your blade.”
“Wow!” Phen said. “How did you do that, Hyden?”
“It’s a variation of that spell that sent Oarly’s boot off into the Nethers,” he said. “You’ll be surprised at what I’ve learned. Watch this.”
A cloud of roiling smoke and a shower of sparks enveloped Hyden. The display was accompanied by a loud, crackling pop. When the smoke cleared, the space where Hyden had been was empty.
Two of the horses whinnied in surprise. Phen turned at the tap on his shoulder and found Hyden Hawk standing behind him, grinning ear to ear.
“You’ve got to teach me that,” Phen said excitedly. After a moment he blurted out proudly, “Me and Oarly went back into the Serpent’s Eye. We got the emerald out of the sea cave, but Oarly lost it in the marshes.”
Hyden glared at Oarly. “By the Goddess, Phen, why would you let Oarly carry the Earth Stone?”
Oarly looked at the two of them and waved them off. “Bah!” he grunted, and stalked over to where Lord Gregory was speaking to one of Hyden’s cousins.
“No pockets,” Phen said, patting the stony robe that covered his body. “I mapped where he left it, at least.”
“You still have my medallion, I see,” Hyden said.
“Do you want it back?”
“Not yet,” Hyden answered seriously. “I think that, since you had it on when you were petrified, you should wear it until you go into the fountain pool.” He gave Phen a pat on the shoulder and stepped away.
“Shaloo, Little Con,” Hyden called out. “Round everybody up. There are three wagons to unload back at the edge of the basin.”
Hyden turned to Lieutenant Welch. “All they need is one of your men to lead them to the wagons. They’ll pack the stuff back.”
“They’ll need some horses too,” Lieutenant Welch said. “The dwarf has kegs, and Phen has trunks full of books.”
“There are several trunks full of gifts, as well,” Lord Gregory called from where he and Tylen were standing. “Tell the boys not to peek.”
“I’ll go with them, Hyden,” Tylen said. Tylen was on the council of elders now, and the boys would obey him with no question. Hyden smiled. “Don’t you be peeking, either, Tylen,” he joked.
After they'd gone, Lord Gregory led his horse over to the others. “Lady Telgra,” he said, “you should probably stay close to me when we get to the village. The clansfolk know me and will accept your presence more easily if you are seen with someone they trust.”
“Yes, Lord Lion,” she answered, looking nervous.
“How could you know that we brought three wagons?” Lieutenant Welch asked Hyden.
“I’ve watched your approach since you stopped at the Summer’s Day Spire,” he replied.
From above, Talon gave out a loud, shrieking call of explanation. The sound of his familiar reminded Hyden of something and he began searching the ground all around them. With alarm in his voice he asked, “Phen, where is Spike?”
“He’s in an aerated trunk on one of the wagons,” Phen sighed. “Oarly killed a wildcat on the road and Spike still wants to exact feline revenge or something. I didn’t have a choice.”
“You should have put Oarly in the trunk,” Hyden said with a shake of his head.
“Phen and that fargin lad Jicks toted me off into the hills while I was sleeping, then they set a wildcat on me,” Oarly said.
“Was he snoring?” Hyden grinned at Phen and the boy laughed.
“It’s not funny, Hyden.” Oarly strode up and pointed at the sky accusingly. “That fargin wildcat nearly killed me.”
Hyden laughed at his friends as he spun away. “Come on,” he called back over his shoulder. “We’re still a good ways off.”
He led
them through a series of shallow valleys, then over a rocky ridge that was high enough for them to see the vast expanse of gray and white that was the Giant Mountains. A blast of icy wind whipped at them as they started down the other side. No one said a word. The sharpness and cloud-shrouded emptiness of the mountain range they would be crossing in the spring left them awestruck. All of them found that they were intimidated.
“Bah!” Oarly grumbled as he scurried deftly around a large pile of broken rock. “It’s fargin cold as a witch’s nipples.”
“You sound like Mikahl,” Hyden laughed. “Excuse me… I mean High King Mikahl. He whined like a hungry coyote about how cold it was the whole way on our journey to meet King Aldar.”
“That’s why he’s the king and you’re not,” Oarly barked. “He’s got enough sense to know when it’s cold outside.”
“You’ll live, Oarly,” Hyden said. “I’ve got shagmar cloaks waiting for all of you at the village. There should be a big kettle of stew on, as well.”
“A flask of stout and a bowl of steamy stew.” Oarly gazed dreamily at the sky as he spoke. “What more could a dwarf ask for?”
“You could ask for a hot, scented bath,” Phen said with a chuckle. “Or maybe clothes that don’t smell like goat piss, or a trim of that shrub on your head. There are still scales from the serpent tangled in your hair and probably more than one of those fruit bees.”
The Wizard and the Warlord wt-3 Page 19