It was comical. The huge, powerful king of the most treacherous terrain known looked like a scolded boy handing over a frog he had kept in his pocket too long. The queen pulled from the bag a silver canteen. In her hand it looked like a boot flask. She unfastened the lid and sniffed at its contents and nearly dropped the thing. This caused both King Aldar and Oarly to lurch forward as if they could catch the container.
“What is that horrible-smelling stuff?” the queen asked.
“It’s granite juice, my lady,” Oarly said. “It’s used to polish hard metals and etch stone… among other things.” The last was mumbled so that only King Aldar and Hyden could hear it.
“It’s a very precious liquid, dear,” King Aldar said gingerly. “Please don’t spill it. Master Oarly has carried it such a long way.”
As she closed the container, King Aldar relaxed and smiled again. “What was it that the ever-so-kind dwarf gifted my ladies?” he asked.
“Oh,” the queen’s face suddenly beamed as she handed the flask back to her husband. “It’s a wonderful gift that Gretta and I can share. Look.”
She showed him the box and King Aldar nodded appreciatively at Oarly. Hyden noticed that both the king’s goblet and Oarly’s goblet were filled from a different flagon than everyone else's. With a hard look at the king, Dostin managed to get a refill out of that particular flagon once, as well. Hyden got a whiff of the stuff they were drinking and nearly vomited from the harsh smell. It reminded him of the concoction Master Amill once used to rid Queen Willa’s castle of rats and other vermin. Whatever it was, it was potent. Oarly’s eyes were glazed, and a slight grin stayed on his face as he feasted dreamily.
The fare was simple yet delicious. Everyone had their fill of meat, bread, vegetables, and gravy sauce. After a bit of pleasant conversation, the three women excused themselves. Only then, King Aldar sneaked a tiny sip from the canteen Oarly had given him. After he swallowed, he went completely pale. Hyden, Lieutenant Welch, and Corva shared looks of concern for a moment, but the king’s color came roaring back with a vengeance. His face slowly turned as purple as a plum. His huge hands were gripping the edge of the marble table so hard that Hyden thought he might snap off chunks of it.
“It’s the best, I assure you,” said Oarly through a lilted stupor.
After taking a few deep breaths, King Aldar agreed. “’Tis!” he managed with a nod.
Noticing that Hyden hadn’t been drinking much, Corva took the moment to ask him something that had been bothering him since he and Dostin joined them.
“Is there any way that I can escort Princess Telgra home, once she’s visited the Leif Repline?” the elf asked in an unassuming manner. “I understand your purpose for going onto the Wedjak, but she is the only one of her kind. If something were to happen to her, there is no telling what the elves would do.” Corva looked desperately concerned for her safety.
“I can’t make her do anything,” Hyden answered truthfully. “And I can’t allow anyone to force her to do anything that she doesn’t want to do.”
King Aldar pointed at the empty space between them and shook his head as if he were about to make a point, but apparently he couldn’t find the words just yet.
“It would be better if our group wasn’t so large,” Lieutenant Welch said. “I agree with Sir Hyden Hawk, though. I won’t allow her to be coerced into doing anything she doesn’t want to do.”
“We’ve still got two weeks of journeying, and that’s after winter relents. It’ll be months before we can get to the Leif Repline fountain,” Phen said matter-of-factly. “There will be plenty of time to figure all of that out, Corva.”
“He he tweedle dee,” Oarly sang out quietly. His voice sounded distant, like he was somewhere else. “Tweedle dee and tweedle do, flutter high and hammer true.”
Dostin giggled girlishly for a moment then lapsed into a soft snore.
“I understand,” Corva sighed. His voice and his expression showed his frustration. “I just have this sinking feeling about what my people might do in the meantime.”
“You’re starting to sound like Vaegon,” Hyden said.
Before Corva could respond, King Aldar finally found his voice.
“Your journey to the Leif Repline won’t be… so… so…” The giant sneezed hard, causing Dostin to erupt into a peal of giggling.
Corva put a hand on the monk’s shoulder and calmed him. Over the interruption, the king finally blurted out what he had been trying to say.
“It will take days, not months,” King Aldar said, fighting off another sneeze. “I… I… could put you a few days’ journey from the Leif Repline in a heartbeat.” He finally let loose his sneeze and seemed to lose focus for a few moments. When he gathered himself, he looked at Oarly appreciatively. “The best it is, dwarf.” The king’s eyes closed and his head lolled to the side.
“Teleporting?” Phen asked.
King Aldar nodded as he slid slowly into his chair. “You’ve got the Gwag to contend with, though. It guards the fountain jealously. It… it… is…” The king was out of it then, his huge face a study in bliss.
“Well that’s good news,” Hyden said.
“Good?” Lieutenant Welch asked. “A thing called the Gwag is guarding the fountain pool and that’s good news?”
“Aye.” Hyden grinned at Phen.
“Aye, it is,” Oarly mumbled into his dream.
“It’s good because we can find out what this Gwag is about, and get Marble Boy, Princess Telgra, and Talon back to normal in just a day or two.” He grinned.
“I can hardly wait,” Welch added sarcastically.
Chapter 39
“So what is a Gwag?” Hyden asked Phen the next morning.
Phen was sitting at a huge desk, looking like a whitewashed child on the giant-sized furniture. The desktop was cluttered with books, most opened, but some in crude stacks. Unable to sleep in his petrified state, Phen had spent the night searching for information about the Gwag, the Leif Repline, and anything else he could think of.
“Here, read this.” Phen pointed to an open text. “It’s the only mention of the fountain pool’s guardian, but it’s not mentioned as a Gwag. They describe it as a long, fur-coated, four-legged serpent.”
“How could it be a serpent if it has fur and legs?” Hyden asked.
“Just read the passage,” Phen smarted. “It’s a description given by an exploration party from before Pratchert’s day. One of the men in that party went with Pratchert and his father to hunt that ice bear pelt that’s in your tower’s trophy room.”
“It’s Dahg Mahn’s tower, not mine,” Hyden said, taking the book. He sank down onto a divan and began to read. After a moment he sat up and looked at Phen. “It says that the fountain poisoned one of their men.” He glanced at the book and found the line he was after. “‘Shriveled him to a husk in a matter of moments, after just one sip,’” he quoted.
“Aye.” Phen faced Hyden and made a strange face, as if he were contemplating deeply. “I’ve read a lot here, but I'm hoping King Aldar will allow me into the giants’ library, if they have one. I think there are probably traps and other deterrents, as well as this Gwag protecting the fountain. Something that powerful couldn’t be left accessible to just anyone who wanted to exploit it. Some of the accounts I’ve read speak of the fountain’s waters as if they were the elixir of eternity or something.” He sighed. “As eager as I am to be returned to normal, I think we should study as much as we can before we go.”
“Aye,” Hyden agreed. “I’ll see if Cade or His Majesty will take you to the Hall of Chronicles. Berda once told me that they keep all the stories and legends of the giant folk there.”
Phen nodded with a pleased smile on his bland face. After a moment he said, “Did you notice last night that Oarly didn’t snore?”
“Where is he?”
“He’s still sleeping,” Phen said incredulously. “I wonder what they were drinking last night? It smelled awful.”
“You
noticed it, too, then?”
“Aye,” Phen said. “Deep earth granite juice? What was that stuff?”
“I don’t know.” Hyden made a grinning cringe. “But whatever it is, it’s so potent that a thimbleful put King Aldar down.”
“It’s called Malagma Cobbless,” Oarly said in a rough, wheezy voice from the doorway to his bedchamber. “Concentrated to a syrup and then quantified.” Only the top of his now wildly tangled hair could be seen over the back of the divan as he shuffled into the room. He had to dive up to the seat on his belly and wallow around on the soft cushions to get upright. He grunted and growled at the humbling, almost embarrassing effort he had to make just to get situated.
“The giants like to dilute the stuff into their wine,” he finally continued. “That canteen should treat a half dozen kegs properly.”
“What were you drinking?” Phen asked.
“Oh, that.” Oarly rubbed his sunken eyes. “Liquified lotus blossom. It’s a gargantuan specialty.” He yawned. “I think I drank too much of it.”
“The stuff you gave King Aldar is supposed to be diluted in six kegs?” Hyden asked.
Oarly nodded.
“No wonder just one sip put him down.”
Oarly’s eyes snapped open and he looked up with all the alertness he could muster. “He sipped it right from the flask?”
“Just a little nip,” Hyden said. He couldn’t help but be alarmed.
“By Doon, someone should check on him. In its concentrated state that stuff will eat a hole in a steel plate.”
“I’ll go,” said Hyden. Before he could get up, an insistent banging came from the door.
Phen quickly went and opened it.
It was Corva and he looked worried. “Dostin’s not waking up. I'm worried.”
“He’ll be fine,” Oarly said. “He only had one goblet of liquefied lotus last night. He should come around sometime later today.”
After Hyden hurried out to check on King Aldar, Phen sat back at the desk and turned toward Oarly. “If one cup of that stuff will put Dostin down for a day and night, why doesn’t it do that to you?”
“I’ve got a drinker’s constitution,” Oarly said proudly. “Besides, I’m a dwarf.”
Corva took a seat where Hyden had been sitting and looked at Phen. “Have you found anything useful in all of that?” He indicated the books piled on the desk.
“Not enough,” he answered.
An awkward silence took over for a moment. Oarly slipped off the divan and returned to his room.
“You’re really lucky, Phen,” said Corva. “It’s rare for one of the Arbor’s Blood to take a liking to an elven man, much less a human.”
“You’re speaking of Telgra?” Phen asked.
Corva nodded.
“I like her, too,” Phen said. “Very much.”
“She will live four hundred years, if no harm comes to her, Phen,” Corva said softly. “How many more years will you live?”
Phen looked away, but there was heat in his voice when he responded. “In my current state, I could live forever, Corva, but a life not feeling the warmth of a touch or the taste of a meal seems like no life at all.”
Corva hadn’t considered that Phen’s condition might affect his lifespan. The elf, now that he thought about it, couldn’t remember Phen needing food or drink, or even to sleep since they had been traveling together. The gravity of the boy’s situation, and the weight of the choices he would soon have to make, became clearer to him. Phen would have to decide if he wanted to spend hundreds of years enjoying Telgra’s company without feeling her touch, or tasting her kiss, or being able to couple with her. The alternative was what? Maybe forty or fifty years of enjoying the full sensations of love and life. Corva didn’t envy Phen, and was finding that he had a deep respect for him.
Corva read the descriptions of the guardian of the Leif Repline and some of the other passages Phen had marked. He remembered the elven lore of the furry Gwag creature, and recalled thinking how, if it were up to him, a more formidable thing would be guarding a fountain that could allow the humans to outlive the elves. He was in the process of showing Phen a simple healing spell when Cade came to the door. He told them that King Aldar was dazed, but recovering from the dangerous dose of Oarly’s brew. Then he led Phen and Corva to the Hall of Chronicles.
The majority of the giants’ history was kept in the old language, Cade explained as they rode the lift down to the proper level. Phen and the elf were pleased when Cade offered to stay and help translate for them. Though both of them had a crude understanding of the old language, neither could read passages without stumbling on words or phrases that they didn’t understand. It took only a few hours to find what they needed to know. Whether it was good information or bad, it was hard to say. The Gwag was a formidable beast that they would probably have to kill to access the Leif Repline. From the more detailed descriptions of the creature, which spoke of its speed and ferocity, this would be no easy task.
High King Mikahl sat on his throne listening to the Westland mage, De’Rain, convey Commander Lyle’s report of the attack on O’Dakahn. Ironspike was not inserted into the sleeve in the throne arm. A display wasn’t necessary; they were alone. The day’s court had been dismissed after a vehement argument over the restored property lines between a pair of farms turned hateful. During the occupation the Zard had removed most of three rail cattle fences, because the splintered wooden beams and poles were perfect height for tearing open a running geka. Now one returned land owner was inching the fence into the neighboring property, trying to gain a bit more for his own.
Mikahl was stretched. One family’s teenage son had challenged the old neighbor, a man of at least sixty summers, to an honor duel. Mikahl had to raise his voice and went as far as drawing Ironspike from its sleeve. He blasted a soup bowl-sized divot out of the court room’s floor. Ultimately, a formal investigation was ordered. King Mikahl's’ constable would try to locate the old fence line and restore it.
The disruption had caused Mikahl to send the rest of the petitioners away. Already, Master Wizard Sholt and Lord Spyra had reported from Salazar. They‘d tracked down quite a few of the tainted sailors and dispelled Pael’s curse. They’d also spent time at the Lost Lion Inn with Lady Zasha, her husband Wyndall, and the newborn baby, Ellrich.
As King Mikahl expected, they’d refused to move into Settsted Stronghold and take over its lordship. Zasha’s request to have a smaller, safer holding set aside for her son to inherit was one that Mikahl couldn’t possibly deny. But now he would have to pick a lord to take over Settsted.
Lord Spyra was his first choice. The man had spent years as the general of Queen Willa’s Blacksword army. He was qualified. The only problem was, he wasn’t a Westlander.
Spyra and Sholt were on the way back to Westland trying to beat the stormy cold fronts that were threatening to rile the sea gods. Mikahl sighed and indicated for De’Rain to begin. Commander Lyle’s view of what happened would either ease his mind, or worry him further. It was time to find out which.
From his seat at the court scribe’s desk, the mage began with his condensed version of the report.
“All three dozen skeletons that carried out the attack in the port merchant district were destroyed. No skeletons have been seen in the city since that night.” De’Rain paused and took a sip of water from a goblet. “Several descriptions concurred that it was a Choska seen in the sky. A few people reported seeing the demon flying westward. Commander Lyle traveled to Nahka, on the riverbank at the marshes’ edge. A group of farmers saw the Choska attack a herdsman and his flock just outside of the village. This was after it left O'Dakahn. The Choska killed the herder and fed on his flock, then flew away west again, they say heading directly toward the Dragon’s Tooth Spire. It hasn’t been seen since.”
“Also, a marsh mage who reportedly dabbles in small animal resurrections and potions has disappeared from the village.”
De’Rain took another drink. “Commande
r Lyle is in Nahka now, awaiting orders. He wanted me to tell you that he was prepared to go into the marsh after the Choska, if necessary.
“No,” King Mikahl said flatly. “I want him to meet with the soldiers King Jarrek sent to help establish the eastern marsh patrol. Strongholds and outposts will need building. I want his assessment of that situation. Tell him that the threat at the Dragon Tooth’s Spire is being handled.”
“Is that all, King Mikahl?” De’Rain asked.
“Aye,” Mikahl said with a smile. “I think it is.”
The High King stood and glanced down at the chunk missing from the floor. “If you would, ask Lady Able to find a mason who can repair that. The queen was ill this morning and I must check on her.”
“As you command, Majesty,” De’Rain said. Then, as Mikahl was leaving, the mage added, “Congratulations.”
Chapter 40
Bzorch was getting hungry. The huge flock of dactyls that had roosted on the side of the Dragon’s Tooth Spire made it almost impossible for him to leave his place up in the wormhole. He tried to climb back down in daylight but they tried to give him away. If he stayed where he was, he would starve to death. Already, he was contemplating using his dragon gun to kill one of the pesky swamp birds for food. He was so hungry he would risk setting the flock off to get one. He was just waiting for the sun to sink below the western horizon to do it.
The eastern side of the fang was bathed in evening shadow and would be perfect for him to get a clear shot at a dactyl, but the shape of the tooth made it almost impossible. The wormhole on that side opened up on thin air. The face of the rock below the opening scalloped inward in an inverted curve. His hunt, as well as any attempt to descend, would have to be carried out on the western face.
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