D&D - Mystara - Penhaligon Trilogy 02

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

  Beside the door, she had left her shapeless gray shift, which was ornamented with basswood twigs. She pulled it over her ancient, shriveled body, then picked up the staff she’d left behind as well. She never worried about the possibility of it coming to harm in her valley. There were wards aplenty to keep out those who might lust after such a staff of power. “Not that anyone’d want you now,” Karleah grumbled aloud to the staff, “since you seem virtually useless.” She ran her fingers across the smooth wood, noticing that only a few faint runes remained on the aged surface of the staff.

  Dayin came and stood in the doorway. He looked at the wizardess, expecting her to repeat the comment she’d made almost every day since returning to the valley. She didn’t disappoint him.

  “Look at this!” she croaked, holding out the beautifully carved oak staff. It was appointed with plain bronze bands, which bound its ends. Dayin moved closer, hoping to see that some of the thin runes had reappeared in the staff’s wood, but fearing that more had disappeared. Karleah had quite a number of spells stored thus in the staff—or she had before escaping Verdilith’s lair.

  “Look at this!” she said again, waving the staff. “It barely radiates any magic! It’s still drained! If you’ve gotten your spells back, you’d think my staff would’ve, too!” The old woman complained bitterly.

  “How about your personal spells?” Dayin asked. He took Karleah’s arm and helped her enter the small cabin, The old woman leaned her staff against the rough-hewn table that stood to the left of the door and snatched up a charm that lay on a bench beside it. Plodding distractedly forward, she sat down in her rocker, the only comfortable piece of furniture in the cramped confines, and set her feet on another bench. The fire had fallen to embers in the fireplace, but the room was plenty warm. The old wiz- ardess’s eyes traced longingly over the pots, jars, and pouches that cluttered the mande, and the sheaves of herbs dried hanging from the rafters overhead.

  “No, not a one of my spells has come back,” she said sadly, rubbing the charm between aged fingers. “I suppose I’m more an herbalist than a mage anymore”

  “But I was drained, too,” Dayin offered, “and now I’m back to fine.” He handed the old wizardess a cup of tea and then sat down at her feet.

  “Yes, and I think I know why, too,” Karleah rejoined. “Dayin, roll up your sleeve and hold out your arm. I want to look at those scars again.” The boy silently complied, and Karleah stroked his tender skin with her gnarled, bony fingers. She grunted. “These scars are old. Do you remember how you got them?”

  Dayin shook his head. “No, I didn’t even know I had them.” He touched his skin and peered at the pale spots. “But what’ve these to do with your spells?” he asked curiously.

  Karleah leaned back and looked at the boy. Once you would have asked that with fear and impatience, she thought. It’s good to see that you are becoming more courageous, more self-assured. She leaned forward and ruffled his hair.

  “Tell me about your father, Dayin,” Karleah countered. “Tell me all that you remember about his making the abelaat crystals. You thought he died in an explosion, didn’t you?”

  “Yeah—at least he disappeared then,” Dayin said with a shrug. The boy’s eyes were distant and blank, as though he were once again viewing the events of the time, but from a safe distance. “There was an explosion, yes, and it ruined our tower. Then my fath—the man disappeared. I searched and waited, but he never showed up.” Again the shrug. “Of course I thought he was dead . . . and to me he is. When he changed his name to Teryl Auroch, when he became an evil wizard, my father died.” Dayin’s blue eyes gazed squarely at Karleah, and she saw deep hurt lingering behind the blankness there.

  Karleah pulled the boy into her thin arms. She gave him a swift hug, then pushed him away. “There’s work to be done, boy,” she said huskily, “and no time for that.” She leaned back in the rocker. “Now. Tell me about the crystals.”

  The boy frowned. “That was such a long time ago, Karleah. I’ve told you all I remember,” he said. “Can’t you use that vail-vine charm on me to find out? You know, the one you told me about that makes people tell the truth?” He looked at the wizardess.

  Karleah rested her elbows on her knees and put her chin on her cupped palms. She’d made a vail-vine charm hundreds of years ago, back in the days when she constructed magical things. Maybe it was still around. Without a word, Karleah stood and began rifling through the shelves and cabinets that lined the walls of her cabin.

  She remembered the amulet because she’d crafted it with such care. She’d arranged three vail-vine leaves, cast them in copper, and then enshrined the leaves inside the pale heart of the original vail-vine mother plant. Over the years, she’d brushed the charm with a mixture concocted of concentrated vail-vine fluid, other powerful truth serums, and substances she’d long since forgotten. The mother vail vine eventually encased the amulet with woody plant growth, and Karleah had all but forgotten about it. Then, one day, she’d come across a strange, tuberous growth on the vine. She removed it, and inside found the charm, now the essence of a vail vine’s power. But the amulet was attained at a cost; the mother vine died.

  Karleah snapped her fingers and reached for a round wooden hatbox stored on top of her hutch. She pulled the box down, then hesitated. With trembling fingers she lightly stroked the still-elegant moire satin that lined the outside of the box. The color had faded from a rich plum to a nondescript gray. Karleah muttered to herself, “Stop acting like a doe-eyed fawn. That was years ago. Memories of him can’t hurt you.”

  “Who, Karleah?” Dayin asked. He came and stood beside the wizardess as she set the box on the table.

  Karleah ignored the boy. She took off the box’s cover. Inside was a tissue-thin, patterned cloth. The wizardess pulled back the material to reveal a round hat of white velvet. Above its tiny brim was wrapped a feather of exquisite azure beauty. A multifaceted diamond graced one side.

  Dayin caught his breath in awe. “Is it . . . magical?” he asked breathlessly.

  Karleah snorted. “Not hardly,” she answered crisply, “and that’s what makes it all the more special.” She reverently set the hat aside, then reached into the box and pulled out the remaining item. It was the vail-vine amulet. Karleah eyed its tarnished leaves, its once shiny copper now covered with a dull green patina. The gold chain it hung from had fared better, for it still shone. She smiled and said, “Well, the green’s more appropriate for a vine amulet anyway.”

  Dayin squinted in concentration. “What does it do? And what do I do?”

  “Nothing,” the old woman said. She placed the chain over the boy’s head and then looked into Dayin’s eyes. “You have a choice, child,” she said slowly. She pointed to the first leaf. “If I stroke this first leaf, you and I together will see what I wish to know. At least I hope so. My charm may not be strong enough.”

  Karleah pointed to the middle leaf. “If I touch this leaf,

  I will discover what I wish to know without your reliving the incident. And the third leaf will reveal information to me of someone nearby—without their knowing.” Karleah paused and looked at the amulet. “At least I think that’s how it went; I’m not sure any more.” She shrugged and said, “Quite a clever piece of work, if I do say so myself. Which will it be, boy? Do you want to remember what I wish to discover, or would you prefer to be untouched by all this?”

  The boys eyes grew wide with fear and confusion. “If ... if I don’t have to know whats going on, I’d like that, please,” he said, his voice quavering. Then his lips puckered. He said quietly, “I know that’s not very brave of me—

  Karleah nodded and cut Dayin off, saying, “All right, child, I understand. Perhaps that’d be for the best. I have my doubts if the charm has any power anyway. Even if it did, it might not even work—I’ve never used it before. Just stand there, and the charm’ll do the rest.” Karleah began to slowly stroke the central verdigris leaf. She looked into Dayin’s eyes and let her mind open
up. Channeling her thoughts through the amulet, she gently eased Dayin’s mind open as well.

  The old woman had a sneaking suspicion about what had caused Dayin’s scars, and she wasn’t surprised when her charm met resistance in the boy’s blood. Karleah’s wrinkles deepened, and the lines about her mouth puckered into a grimace. Her suspicions were growing stronger, but she wanted proof—absolute proof. She reached farther into Dayin’s psyche, using the amulet to probe more specifically and perhaps bypass the toxin in the boys blood that clouded her scrying.

  Karleah stared deeply into Dayin’s blue eyes, unaware that her own black ones almost sank into the folds of her face. The memory she wanted lay there, just beyond her reach. She struggled to grasp it, her mind carefully pushing past the veils of thought. Her eyes locked mercilessly with his, and her finger continued to stroke the center leaf of the charm. With a controlled sigh, she began also to stroke the first leaf. She needed the boys help.

  Pain exploded inside Karleah’s mind. Pain from a giant, eight-fanged maw biting into a child’s tender arm. Pain from the searing track of poisonous spittle, coursing through a small body. Karleah stepped backward, unable to bear the agony of the piercing fangs any longer. She dropped heavily into her chair and looked up at the boy.

  Dayin’s face was devoid of color, as if his very blood had been drained away. His eyes stared blankly like huge saucers, wide and brimming with pain. Karleah inwardly rebuked herself for forcing the experience on the boy. She opened her mouth to say something, but Dayin spoke up.

  His voice was barely a whisper. “My—my father . . .” Dayin stuttered, “he brought in that creature and let it . . . let it feed off me, didn’t he?” Dayin’s eyes blinked blearily, and he rubbed his arms. “And he—he made crystals with my blood. Crystals for him to see through. And—and he kept healing me, so that he could make more crystals. He—he healed me with herbs . . . the same herbs he gave to Flinn to heal Jo. I never knew how I knew. . . .” The boy began to shake.

  Karleah took Dayin in her arms. There was nothing she could say, nothing she could feel but horror and compassion.

  Chapter IX

  I tell you, I’m innocent!” Brisbois yelled.

  He wiped the blood from his lip with the back of his hand and glared at Johauna Menhir, standing before him. The man swayed and almost slipped on the wet ground, and Jo tensed. Fall! she thought viciously. Fall so I can kick you! Brisbois held his left arm awkwardly to his side and said hoarsely, “I had nothing to do with—”

  “Liar!” Jo shouted and slapped his battered face again. This time he did fall to the slick ground. She lifted her foot to crush his hand.

  “Ease off, Johauna,” the dwarf said, pulling her aside. “The mans hurt.”

  Jo rounded on Braddoc. She grabbed the dwarfs shoulder and shook him as hard as her bruised ribs would allow. “How can you say that, Braddoc? This man agreed to be Flinn s bondsman, then attacked us! He—”

  Braddoc gripped Jos arm. His fingers tightened so hard that Jo cried out in pain. “He didn’t attack us—Auroch did!” Braddoc said intently.

  Jo wrenched her arm free, her eyes blazing at the dwarf.

  An ugly sneer distorted her lips. “He stood by while we all battled Auroch’s tornado of fire! What more do you want?” her voice rose shrilly. Jo started to tremble, but clenched her teeth and forced the impulse down.

  Braddoc put his hands on her arms and forced her to look at him. He murmured, “Johauna . . . killing Brisbois isn’t going to bring back Flinn.”

  Jo choked back a sob. Her eyes blinked rapidly. I will not cry! I . . . wdll . . . not! she thought harshly. Image after image of Flinn flooded her mind. She saw again the icy street of By water on the day she’d heard the children taunting Flinn, “Flinn the Fallen! Flinn the Fool!” She saw the lines of pain in his darkened face as he haltingly told her of his fall from grace. She saw the glory that shone brightly in his eyes when he was reunited with Wyrmblight. She saw his crimson, crumpled form, couched in a well of bloody snow.

  Stepping backward, Jo held up her hand and shook her head. She looked from Braddoc to Brisbois, lying on the ground, and she fought down the urge to kick the man. Her heart filled with hate. “I say we kill him,” she hissed. “I’ll tell Sir Graybow we couldn’t find him—”

  “I tell you. I’m innocent!” Brisbois interrupted hoarsely, a touch of fear behind the bravado. One side of his face was swollen almost beyond recognition. He shifted, struggling to rise from the mire, then winced as his left arm dangled awkwardly. “I didn’t attack Auroch in the castle because I knew it wouldn’t do any good! I—”

  “Quiet, cur!” Jo fell to her knees beside Brisbois and held up her hand menacingly. She ignored the stabbing ache in her side. Her ribs would heal; her heart would not.

  “Let him speak, Johauna!” Braddoc barked suddenly. Jo turned to him and opened her mouth to put the dwarf in his place, but Braddoc said tightly, “Think a moment what you’re doing here, Johauna. Think! Sir Graybow trusted you to carry out a mission of retrieval, not vengeance. If you kill him now—whether he deserves it or not—you’ll be betraying your oath to the baroness . . . and to Graybow!”

  Johauna stood slowly and ruthlessly quelled the remorse his words inspired. She poked Braddoc’s chest and said angrily, “Yow think for a moment who falsely accused Flinn, who goaded those knights to drag him down and beat him. Think?”

  Braddoc seized Jo’s hand and gripped it against his chest. In the faint lamplight that illuminated the back of the rendering hall, he stared at Jo. His white eye gleamed, and for one awful moment Jo wondered what he could see with it. “Listen to me!” the dwarf said urgently. “Verdilith was behind all that—”

  Jo rebuked, “Brisbois denies being charmed by the dragon! He says—”

  “If Verdilith could charm Flinn’s own wife into defaming Flinn, he could certainly charm Brisbois into doing the same,” Braddoc said as he released Jo’s hand. The squire took a step back.

  “Yeah?” she said, angrily rubbing her hand. “So what’s your point?” Little flecks of spittle accompanied her last word.

  Braddoc rubbed his beard. “My point—” he began.

  Jo shook her head and made a chopping motion with her hand. “He betrayed Flinn!” she interrupted the dwarf. “He gave his word as bondsman to Flinn that he would act in his behalf for one year!” Jo stalked over to Brisbois, still lying on the ground. In one swift gesture, she grabbed his clothing and yanked him to his feet. Her hands clutched his collar, and her gray eyes flashed at him. “And the first chance you had, you escaped with your friend Teryl Auroch! No serving as bondsman for you!” She released him roughly, backed a step away, and spat at the knight’s feet, hoping to trigger a fight.

  Through puffy eyes Brisbois glared back at the young woman, ignoring the spittle. “That’s where you’re wrong.” He ground the words out reluctantly, cradling his injured arm to his side.

  Jo stared at the man, her eyes incapable of blinking. “If you hadn’t left him,” she breathed, “it might have been you who’d died instead of Flinn!” She sneered. “Because you’re in cahoots with—”

  “I’m not in league with Auroch! I never have been. I hate the man,” Brisbois snarled, “and I can prove it!” His eyes remained on Jo’s face as he carefully pulled out a piece of coarse paper. He handed it to her.

  Johauna stared at the paper, at the bloody fingerprints Brisbois left on it. She opened it up and read aloud to Braddoc, “‘Come to the alley behind the rendering hall, just after ten bells. There, I will meet you.’ And then there’s the sigil of a bull’s horn.” Jo’s eyes glittered at Brisbois. She lifted one eyebrow and said smoothly, “The sign of Auroch, no doubt.”

  “Yes,” Brisbois spat out. “He spirited me away against my will when . . . when he left your chambers at the castle. ... I escaped him, but he’s been hounding me ever since. I thought ... I thought I could perhaps bargain with him in the alley . . . make him leave me alone. But he ... he sent th
ose thugs to kill me.” The man’s voice came in ragged gasps.

  Jo held up the note. “Oh? So you think the fact that you’d bargain with Auroch should make us trust you?” she asked angrily. She threw the note down into the muddy water at her feet and stepped on it, twisting the paper into the ground with her heel.

  Braddoc took a step toward Brisbois, who was on the verge of collapse. The disgraced knight weakly waved Braddoc away. “Let me finish,” Brisbois said, his words not much more than a whisper. “Jo. You’re smarter than this. You just want a scapegoat for your anger.”

  Jo winced at the man’s familiarity and clenched her hand. “Watch your tongue, Brisbois,” she snapped.

  “Aurochs been hunting me,” Brisbois continued with some exertion. “I know too much about him—I compromise his safety. He’d’ve found me sooner, too, if I’d not bought this amulet from a backstreet mage I know . . .” He pointed to a simple pendant hanging from his grimy neck. “And I’ve kept moving, too, to ... to throw him off track. Still, his goons found me fast enough. They . . . they sent me that note, and I ... I thought I could maybe cut a deal. ... I couldn’t run forever.” The man paused and then said, “Cut a deal, or kill him.”

  “Only Auroch had the same plan,” Braddoc noted stiffly.

  Brisbois nodded his swollen head. Brisbois looked at Jo and began to tremble. He took a breath of air through lips so swollen they could hardly open.

  Johauna looked from Brisbois to Braddoc and back to the knight. Her mouth curled into a sneer, and she said, “You bastard liar” She spat in Brisboiss face,

  “That’s enough!” Braddoc roared. He grabbed Jo’s arm and dragged her a few steps away. The dwarf stared at her, twitches of anger working across his features. “Johauna, I’m ashamed of you! Ashamed, do you hear?” As if to reinforce his words, he took his hand off the young womans arm.