D&D - Mystara - Penhaligon Trilogy 02

by The Dragon's Tomb - Heinrich, D. J (v1. 1)

  Graybow'’s hand was firm on her arm. “How do you know?”

  Jo looked up into her mentor’s face, anger and fear naked in her eyes. “I saw Verdilith here ”

  “What?” chorused Arteris and Graybow.

  “The day we returned from the dragon’s lair, after battling Verdilith . . .” Jo explained, “. . . a black-haired man accosted us; he ridiculed Flinn.” Her voice began to break, but Jo clenched her jaw and gathered her resolve. “He had golden eyes and wore a long leather glove over his left hand and arm. Verdilith has golden eyes, and his left arm was maimed by Flinn.”

  “That proves nothing,” Arteris noted coldly.

  “Excuse, please, My Lady,” Braddoc interjected, stepping forward, “but someone matching that description ran into me in the great hall. He left a streak of blood on my tunic, blood that must be from his left arm. And, just before the chandelier fell, I saw a greenish mist whirling about the ceiling mount. I think the man and the mist were both Verdilith, transformed.”

  “I . . . see,” Arteris said, throwing Jo a sideways glance. “Verdilith and Auroch seem to be back to their old tricks.” She paused, her eyes patiently measuring each person in the room. “Now we have a vague idea what is happening, but I’ve not heard a single suggestion as to how to stop these schemers. What do you intend to do about this rogue mage?” Arteris asked icily, not batting an eye. “And what do you intend to do about restoring magic to the Castle of the Three Suns?” Jo felt a twinge of reluctant admiration at the baroness’s ruthless tone.

  Aranth fidgeted with his fingers. “We will, of course, restore the magic as soon as possible, Your Ladyship. I caution you that this may take—”

  “Do not caution me, Aranth!” the baroness said coldly. Her agate eyes flashed at the wizard. “You are my head mage, and I am sorely disappointed in you. You will have the magical wards and defenses restored by tomorrow. Magically locked doors and gates, magic cords . . . everything. Do I make myself understood?”

  Aranth bowed and said, “Understood, Your Ladyship.” He leaned back, his eyes averted, but his lips curled in resentment.

  “And the lights must be restored by the next day—all of them restored,” Arteris continued. “Understood?”

  The three mages reluctantly nodded. Aranth said, “To do so, we will need to discover a way to break the enchantment. That may take time.”

  The baroness’s eyes were like spheres of ice. “The less time, the better for you.” Her chill gaze warmed slightly, and she added, “The better for all of us. In the meantime, Sir Graybow, I want you to step up security. Double the guards throughout the castle, and treble them before magically warded portals. I don’t care if you must draw from the ranks of the squires and knights to do so. Security in the castle is the utmost concern ”

  “Yes, My Lady,” Graybow responded, with a gracious bow.

  “And I want Auroch found ” Arteris finished. “Found and slain, and his head paraded on a pike.”

  “We will use every means at our disposal to magically detect the whereabouts of the rogue mage, Your Ladyship," Aranth said quickly. “We will undo the damage he has wrought.”

  Arteris pursed her lips at the mage but said nothing. Jo could clearly see the baroness’s thought: Fools. I’m surrounded by ineffectual fools. Jo smothered an irreverent smile, then felt the smile fade as Arteris turned to Sir Graybow. “My mages, Sir Graybow, plan to search for Auroch with their rapidly failing magicks. I pray my castellan can devise a more reliable plan. What do you plan to do, castellan?”

  A gentle smile tugged at the corners of Graybow’s mouth, as though he had been waiting to be asked that question. “My scouts have discovered someone who—I am convinced—will know the whereabouts of Teryl Auroch,” Sir Graybow said slowly. Jo felt her heart begin to pound uncomfortably. A rushing noise filled her ears. “I intend to send Squire Menhir and Master Briarblood after the man.”

  Sir Graybow paused, the grim, determined smile deepening across his lips. “The man is Sir Brisbois.”

  Chapter VII

  ave you lost your senses?” Arteris raved at Sir Graybow. She looked away; her lips pressing into a thin line. Regaining her composure, Arteris leaned toward the castellan and splayed her hands across the wide expanse of table before her. “Tell me. Sir Graybow,” the baroness asked sarcastically, “by what logic do you send an untrained squire after a former knight who is, by all accounts, a man of dishonor and treachery?” Arteris arched her eyebrow.

  Johauna hurriedly took the last step separating her from Sir Graybow. She raised her hand and was about to speak, but the castellan caught her wrist and flashed his eyes at her. Jo pursed her lips and kept silent. The castellan gave her hand a brief squeeze as he released it, then turned to Baroness Penhaligon.

  “My logic, Your Ladyship,” Sir Graybow responded drily, “is this: Brisbois, for all his dishonor and treachery, is a coward—no match in battle for my squire and her associate. Furthermore, Brisbois is merely a tag for the whereabouts and weaknesses of Tery l Auroch and Verdilith, the true villains. While Squire Menhir and Braddoc are pursuing Brisbois, I need every other experienced knight and squire to guard the castle against further attack from the mage and the dragon. You yourself said that the castle s security was paramount.”

  “I did, indeed,” Arteris said, lifting her hands from the table and standing erect. She drew a breath in preparation to speak, but Graybow was already talking.

  “And, most importantly, I am your castellan and have been for many years now. I have every faith that my squire and her companion are best suited for this task. If you have faith in me as your castellan, you should have faith in my choice of assignment.” Lile Graybow lifted his bushy eyebrows slightly and stared at Arteris.

  The baroness blinked stoically. Her expression remained inscrutable for a long moment. Finally, she coughed once, delicately, and said, “You are correct in your assumption that I have every faith in you, Sir Graybow.” She fixed her penetrating gaze on the castellan. “As such, I will extend that faith to your squire. But know you this, Sir Graybow—” Arteris pointed at the castellan “—I do not want to discover that this choice of yours has been dictated by either infatuation or senility. Do I make myself clear?”

  Sir Graybow bowed low. “Yes, Your Ladyship, you do. And no, you will not.” Jo caught the briefest trace of a smile lingering around the castellan s lips.

  “In that case, Sir Graybow,” Arteris said wryly, “I suggest you adjourn to brief Squire Menhir and Master Braddoc. I wish to talk with these—” there was the briefest pause “—mages. Please attend me later tonight.” The baroness nodded dismissal to Jo, Braddoc, and the castellan, then turned to the mages. Jo saw Aranth actually squirm before she turned to follow Sir Graybow out the room.

  The castellan maintained a quick pace through the halls and stairwells that led to their chambers, despite the lack of adequate light. “This will take some getting used to,” he murmured when he discovered that one hall was virtually unlit. He stopped, put his hand on Jos arm, and squeezed it. Graybow said gruffly, “We’ve a lot to discuss tonight, Jo. I suppose I should have asked first if you wanted to go—”

  Jo shook her head vehemently, unable to see much of Sir Graybow’s expression in the dark. She gripped the man’s hand. “No, sir,” she said strongly, “I do want this opportunity—I do! If you won’t let me hunt Verdilith yet, I can avenge Flinn’s honor if not his death—”

  Sir Graybow raised a gnarled forefinger in warning. “No, there will be no talk of that,” he said sternly. “I am sending you after Brisbois to bring him in, not to seek vengeance.” Sir Graybow s voice had a hard edge to it that Jo had never heard him use with her. “Understood?”

  Conflicting emotions warred within Johauna, and for a moment she couldn’t respond. Then she quelled all her thoughts and said lightly, “Of course, Sir Graybow. You can count on me.”

  Something in her tone made Sir Graybow pause to look at the young woman, but the darkness hi
d her expression. “Jo . . . ?” he began, his voice like a low growl.

  Jo closed her eyes and felt her skin flush. “Yes, sir?” she forced herself to say with just the right degree of concern.

  The castellan peered at her once more, then, seemingly satisfied, he turned down the hall. Jo and Braddoc fell in step beside him.

  Early dawn found Jo and Braddoc mounted on horse and pony and traveling south on the smooth, hard-packed Duke’s Road. Only a few ruts, puddles, and frost boils hampered the steady, ground-eating canter they set for the animals. The road was the finest thoroughfare around and was used by almost anyone traveling across Penhaligon. Originating in Specularum, to the south, the Duke’s Road worked its way north through Kelvin, on through the southern Wulfholdes to Penhaligon, then through the Wulfholdes again as it wound its way north to the Altan Tepes Mountains.

  The River Hillfollow bordered the western edge of the Duke’s Road. Its bank had come alive with a flush of vivid green as the trees burst into leaf. The Wulfholdes surrounding Jo and Braddoc seemed pale by contrast, though a few tenacious shrubs and grasses dotted the shale slopes. Jo glanced at the river, her eyes drawn by the glint of sparkling waters. She remembered they’d have to cross that river to get to the tiny village of Rifllian, which was just on the other side of Castle Kelvin to the south. Brisbois was supposed to be hiding in the village. She turned to Braddoc.

  “There’s a ford at Kelvin, isn’t there?” Jo asked.

  Braddoc nodded, his long-legged pony cantering to keep up with Carsig’s stride. “Aye, there is,” the dwarf replied. “We’ll cross the river there, and then the Duke’s Road branches westward. We take that into Rifllian.”

  And that’s where we’ll find that—that traitor, Sir Brisbois! Jo thought savagely. It rankled Jo that Brisbois s title was still intact—at Flinn’s gracious request, the title had never been officially stripped from the man. The “knight” was a menace. Surely discrediting Flinn with lies and betraying Flinn as bondsman were only two of Brisbois’s heinous crimes, Jo told herself. Her fist clenched on Wyrmblight s pommel, then forcibly relaxed. Calm down, girl, she told herself as she tried to find something else to concentrate on. Duty, not vengeance. She’d repeated the phrase in her head many times already, but still the words rang hollow. Once, she even found herself hoping Brisbois would provoke an attack so they could kill him on the spot.

  Shaking her head to clear it of the destructive thought, Jo glanced at Braddoc. “Didn’t you meet Flinn in Rifllian? What’s the village like?” she asked.

  Braddoc’s beard, braided into a single plait, bounced up at his pony’s canter. He tucked it back into his wide, silver- and sapphire-studded belt. “Rifllian?” he repeated, then snorted. “It’s not much of a place, that’s for sure. My comrades and I—”

  “What were you exactly, Braddoc? You weren’t really mercenaries—you said so yourself to the baroness,” Jo cut in quickly. “What did you do?”

  Unexpectedly, Braddoc laughed. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Johauna Menhir!”

  “Then tell me,” Jo entreated lightly. “We’ve—what? one? two? days on the road before we reach the village? I’d like to know more about you and how you met Flinn ”

  The dwarf looked at Jo oddly for a moment. A sudden break in his pony’s rhythm drew his attention away from Jo. The animal pulled up sharply and halted. “Likely a stone,” Braddoc murmured as he dismounted and looked at the pony’s legs. Jo pulled Carsig to a halt and watched Braddoc.

  The pony was favoring her left forehoof. Braddoc leaned against her while facing the animal’s rear. Onyx obediently shifted her weight, and Braddoc slid his hand down her leg and picked up the hoof. He cupped her hoof with one hand and pulled out his knife. Gently he scraped away loose gravel and packed mud with a blunt hook on the knife’s pommel. “Here it is,” he said as he probed deeper. Using the hook, he carefully dislodged and removed a sharp, jagged piece of granite. The dwarf eyed the rock with disfavor, then threw it away. He set the pony’s hoof back down and remounted.

  “The sole looks bruised,” Braddoc said to Jo. “Let’s slow to a walk and let Onyx recover.” He added after a moment, “That’ll give me time to answer your questions in a more sensible fashion, rather than bounce along and lose half my words.” The dwarf fell silent.

  Jo nudged Carsig into a walk. “Think she’ll pull up lame?” the young squire asked momentarily. She knew she might have to prime the pump to get the reticent dwarf talking about his past. A little banal chitchat could do the trick.

  Braddoc shook his head. “I don’t think it’s that bad a bruise, and she’s moving pretty good now.” The dwarf opened his mouth, then closed it suddenly. He glanced at Jo and stroked his beard.

  Jo bided her time, taking in the countryside, which was far different from the streets of Specularum, where she had spent her early years. The Wulfholdes gave way to gentler hills and meadowlands. The Hillfollow still curved to the west, and the road matched the river curve for curve.

  Overhead, birds flocked here and there, some still heading north to summer ranges. A flock of snowy geese flew high above the ground in a deep V; their cries echoed faintly in Jo’s ears. Then Jo heard the eerie, lonely cry of a solitary loon as it winged its way toward the river’s waters. She smiled in wonder. How different these birds are from Specularum’s raucous gulls! she thought. During her years in the port city, Jo saw only gulls and pigeons. The wealth of birds in this untamed land startled and pleased her.

  The terrain leveled into gentle rolls before Jo finally turned to Braddoc. “Well?” she asked tersely. The dwarf had never taken this long to answer her questions before.

  “Well what?” the dwarf asked mildly. His good eye caught Jos.

  Jo sighed elaborately. “You were going to tell me about your life as a supposed mercenary and about how you met Flinn,” she added in a rush. She saw Braddoc tug on his beard—a sure sign of nervousness—and she smiled reassuringly at him. “You’re my friend, Braddoc—” Jo grew suddenly serious and sincere “—probably my best friend in the world, what with Flinn gone. I’d be honored if you’d tell me more about yourself.”

  Braddoc looked at Jo thoughtfully, trying to match his pony’s stride with her horse’s. He turned away and said slowly, “I told the truth to the baroness when I said I’m not a mercenary, though I’d pretended to be one. And I told Arteris at least a partial truth when I said my people were interested in opening trade relations with Penhaligon.” Braddoc paused, as if pondering what or how much he should say.

  “Go on,” Jo urged.

  Braddoc looked away from Jo and patted Onyx’s shaggy neck. Both the horse and pony were still shedding their thick winter coats. Jo groomed Carsig twice daily in an effort to remove the gelding’s thick hair.

  “I . . . I’d prefer if you didn’t ask me any more of my past, Johauna,” the dwarf said so quietly Jo had to lean toward him to hear. “I’ve said more than I should, and anything more might compromise your position at the castle.”

  Jo blinked, feeling a mixture of surprise, disappointment, and a little resentment. I thought we were friends, she said to herself, then quelled the thought. We are friends, Jo reminded herself. If Braddoc has something in his past he’d rather not share, so be it. Jo nodded slowly and said, “I’ll respect your wishes for now, Braddoc, but you’ve done the one impermissible thing around me: piqued my curiosity.” Jo smiled roguishly. “I’m giving you fair warning. I intend to know’ all about this by the return trip to the casde.”

  Braddoc snorted but didn’t deign to comment.

  “Tell me about your meeting with Flinn then,” Jo suggested. The dwarf was with his band of supposed mercenaries then; surely he’ll let slip some clue about his past, Jo told herself. And, besides, I’ll get to hear more about Flinn.

  “I’m sure you’ve heard Flinn’s side of the tale,” Braddoc began, then suddenly smiled. “I remember the first time I saw Flinn.” The dwarf laughed aloud.

  “Yes?
Was it funny?” Jo asked quickly, excitement creeping over her, though her heart shrank with grief and pain at the thought of Flinn. Jo had learned all the tales of Flinn the Mighty and had become a fair storyteller as a result. But she knew next to nothing about Flinn’s life after his fall. Braddoc hadn’t met Flinn until then, and she was determined to draw as much of the dwarf’s information as she could.

  Braddoc laughed again and nodded his head. “Oh, yes!” he chortled. “My men and I were at an inn in Rifllian— the Flickertail, if I remember correctly—having an ale, minding our own business. In walked this tall, angry man. Flinn was just spoiling for a fight that night.”

  “Did you know it was him?” Jo asked, picturing the scene. She could see Fain Flinn’s tall, muscular form burst through the tavern door, a door that held the weathered image of some unrecognizable bird. Flinn would be grimacing, his eyes glowing like smoldering embers. He would snarl some greeting to the innkeeper as he looked around. Braddoc and his men would be in one corner of the tavern, peacefully minding their own business.

  “Oh, we knew it was Flinn, all right,” Braddoc answered. “Everyone knew Flinn the Mighty—newly Flinn the Fallen—by sight back then. People couldn’t help but stop and stare at Flinn. Like I said, he was spoiling for a fight that night, but all he really wanted was a plate of stew and an ale.”

  “What happened when Flinn looked around the tavern?” Jo asked.

  “The innkeeper asked him what he’d have, but Flinn only asked for water,” Braddoc answered. “I knew he must be flat broke then, for it only cost half a copper for a loaf of bread; Flinn obviously didn’t even have that.”

  “Then what happened?” Jo asked. She was a little surprised by the dwarTs suddenly loquacious manner, but she figured Braddoc hoped to distract her from asking any more questions about his own past.

  The dwarf laughed. “I said something sarcastic like, ‘That’s a fitting drink for a man’—implying, of course, that Flinn wasn’t much of a man if he could only drink water.” Braddoc chuckled again. He directed Onyx around a large frost boil in the road and continued, “That was all it took. Flinn snapped. He leaped at me, my men leaped between, and they beat each other up. Flinn put up a good fight, but in the end it was him lying on the floor looking up at us.”