“What could it hurt?”
What could it hurt? Vanx had already decided the answer to that question was nothing. The sword healed with its bite, nothing more. And he didn’t need the Troika Sven, even though they’d feel slighted if they were left out of the decision, but Vanx didn’t care.
“We can do this in a moment,” said Vanx. “The Glaive and General Moonseed are on their way now.”
From the next room, a short, yipping bark sounded. Poops was off to get Moonsy.
“I need to hear a better location than ‘at the base of the trickle falls,’ and I need to hear it right now,” Vanx said flatly.
“When I see the blade, I will tell you.”
“No. I don’t want the others to know.” Vanx shrugged at the devil. “By Nepton and Grace, all the wonderers in the world couldn’t be more curious what will happen when Moonsy cuts you than I. Do not think for an instant I will deny you your end of the bargain. I would melt my own brain wondering what would have happened when the magic healed you. I’m far too curious to disallow it.”
“Has the king of men agreed to the tribute of grain?”
“Who cares?” Vanx looked at Pwca and threw up his arms. “Tell me now. You know I need to be the only one who knows.”
Pwca nodded, and then told Vanx exactly which stone would have the true name of the Paragon Dracus on it, and how to locate it, near the trickle in what Pwca called by name, the Garden of Curses. “There will be other stones, with other names. If you turn them over, their spells will be broken, but they are all the witch’s stones, for she was the only one who ever went there. Not all that rotten-cunnied bitch did was evil.”
Just then, Moonsy came through the door. Poops, who usually became extremely agitated when Pwca was around, carried Moonsy to Vanx’s side without raising a single hackle. Vanx felt the pure honesty in the air. Pwca wasn’t all evil, for at the moment he was exuding nothing repulsive at all.
“Outside,” Pwca said, and they were suddenly in one of the dragon-scorched areas around the palace. “You’ll understand in a moment, Vanx Saint Elm. Or should I just call you Vanx? For Saint Elm was a given name to your father, not his true name, and Malic is just the name of the village where you were born.
“Your true name died with the witch, and I’d bet not even you know what it is. Lucky you. Now keep your bargain. Stick me with Witchbane!”
Moonsy did it without even needing Vanx to explain. She was duty bound to put the blade to anything evil, but when the Glaive of Gladiolus met Pwca’s body, something happened that was as unexpected as it was amazing.
Chapter Fourteen
I cast this wreath into the sea
to satisfy Nepton.
Shelter well into the depths
those souls you’ve taken on.
- a prayer to the god of the sea.
The blade discharged a larger amount of power than Vanx had ever seen before. And he’d been jabbed with the blade at least a dozen times, by Thorn. There wasn’t an audible thunderclap, but the force of the magic still thundered through their bodies.
When Vanx blinked the bright-blindness from his eyes and found the little devil, he saw Pwca changing forms. First, he turned into a rat, then slowly but steadily went through a few other small animal shapes, letting loose what sounded like a well-needed yawn. Poops was alert now, on the verge of barking through his growl.
Pwca never changed color. He was black. But even as he settled into the larger form of a stallion, and raced off around the clearing at a full gallop, Vanx was dumbfounded.
Here came the once turd-shaped creature, and his form shifted into a long-legged monkle, then smaller and lower to the ground, it sprouted wings as it came closer.
“Beware the wards the witch may have left in place,” Pwca warned. The devil was now something Vanx would have called a bat, if it didn’t look more like a wolf-sized flying dire rat.
From the shadows all around them, the ground began to move. It was Pwca’s rats. There had been thousands of them around the small group, and Poops hadn’t smelled or sensed them. Knowing the healed bastard could have attacked them with numbers, but didn’t, made Vanx respect Pwca. Trusting the thing was another matter. There was no talk of wards and such before.
If it was a place he’d been, Vanx could use the teleport spell he’d mastered, but in this case, it wasn’t an option. Nor was dragonback. This was a three- or four-day hike for a well-equipped party, but for him, Poops, Zeezle and Gallarael, it would take only two days, for they could travel faster than any of the others.
Vanx started to say something to Moonsy, but her glare was as firm as her words.
“It is elven territory, or near enough. I am duty bound to go.” She must have seen the thought in his mind, for before he could speak it, she said, “I’m riding Poops, and he can keep up with you, so we won’t slow you.”
“We?” Vanx saw the trio of on-duty sprites sworn to guard over Sir Poopsalot at all times.
“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Gal said, stepping up out of the shadows. Vanx figured she’d been watching from the beginning, in her feline form, from somewhere nearby.
“Phouka is a changeling from the oldest recorded lore in the Highlake library. It would appear as a horse, or a wolf, even a goat, all black as pitch, out in the crop fields. An ox or a townsman always went missing after he appeared, but those years the harvest was always exceptionally better than normal.”
“He wanted grain from the king?” Moonsy said.
Vanx caught the line of her thinking. Fertile fields, and shiploads of grain, but they had a short quest into the mountains for which to prepare. What Gallarael’s history books told her of Pwca was interesting, but at the moment, Pwca wasn’t an enemy.
“Who else can keep up with us?” asked Vanx.
“On kanga back, we can,” King Russet said.
“And go, we will,” Master Kruuga added.
“Gallarael is pulling liege law on King Russet,” Vanx said, looking directly into Russet’s glaring eyes. “But Master Kruuga is welcome.”
“What?” Russet argued. “You don’t want me to go?”
“He is right, brother.” Gallarael stressed the word brother. “If something happens to you, there is no heir to hold the throne. If you die, the realm would be in chaos.”
“If I die, you become queen. Father acknowledged your conception to the Keeper of Names. Your claim would be legitimate.”
“I couldn’t.” Gal looked deep into Russet’s eyes, and Vanx was listening intently, even though he was already forming a list of things they needed in the back of his mind.
“I am a changeling, Russ,” she went on. “And what sort of heir would I bear?” She looked at Vanx then, and was surprised to see his knowing expression. Vanx wasn’t sure how she had read him so easily, but she knew he knew, and her eyes welled with tears before she leapt headlong into her feline form and disappeared into the shadows.
“Master Kruuga, your services would have been welcome, but you must stay with the king,” said Vanx, when he saw his best friend.
“No worries, Master Cougar,” Zeezle joked, as he joined the small moonlit gathering. His dazzling blue dragonskin jacket drew the focus of everyone there. “I remember my lessons well enough.”
“Does the whole of the Deep know what we are about now? Or is this it?” Vanx asked.
“We know, too,” came a voice from above.
Vanx looked up to see the sprite named Streak, one of his finger-sized chums, and half a score of other fae that the Glaive’s magic must have attracted.
“So much for secrecy.” Vanx couldn’t decide if he was angry or not. He was tired, though, so he listed to Streak the things he wanted compiled for the trek. Moonsy ordered a few of her guards to help the little guy with the heavier stuff.
Chapter Fifteen
I’ve walked a long and lonely road,
if you could only see where I’ve been.
It’s a mystery how the stories unfold,
&n
bsp; but sooner or later we all meet our end.
- A Zythian bard's song
“Dawn is still several hours away.” Vanx took command of the situation before it got out of hand. “Those who need it should rest. We may not leave at dawn, but it won’t be long after.”
Vanx wanted to sleep, especially before he confronted Gallarael about their private issues. She, however, would be the one to determine when he saw her again. She would shadow the party from a distance, scouting ahead and watching over them, as she always did. Only when she was ready would she rejoin them. It was maddening, not knowing if the Paragon had spoken true.
Even though he did drift into slumber after he was resettled in his bed, Vanx didn’t sleep well. He tossed and turned. He was troubled by dark dreams of wicked things that eluded the grasp of his memory when he woke. He sat up and decided to spend some time preparing and memorizing the spells he might need. He also wanted to look into the piece of the Mirror of Portent he still carried. He couldn’t trust the possible futures it showed him, for he’d seen one of its visions defied with his own eyes, but it never hurt to try to gain an advantage. The only future he saw as of late was that of he and Russet fighting over the throne.
He was disappointed to see that the portent hadn’t changed, but he did notice something that piqued his curiosity. He saw that he was clearly not trying to kill Prince Russ—no, his mind corrected the thought: Russet was the King of Parydon.
Vanx saw three different moves he knew he would have made, instead of the clumsy lunge he offered. In the fight in the mirror, Russet’s life would have already ended had he been trying to kill the boy. He was starting to think that either he was ill in the scene, or not in control of himself. Not even inebriated to a stupor would he fight so badly.
Looking again, Vanx saw something else reflecting across his blade for an instant. Either the radiant blue of the Paragon Dracus was reflecting in his eyes because it was very near him, or—Vanx shook his head—or his eyes had been glowing, and he’d felt out of control because he might have been under the Trigon Daze in the portent.
Vanx closed his eyes and sighed. All of that to worry over, and there was still some terrible shapeshifting bastard out there, growing stronger with each dragon it tormented. It would attack the Isle of Zyth, Vanx figured. After being thwarted there, and then defied completely at the Heart Tree, it was gathering power— power it didn’t need to take the human lands.
Vanx wasn’t sure what sort of wards the Hoar Witch would have put in place to protect her namestone garden, but in the past, she had bound some terrible malformed creature she herself had bred from parts of other creatures, to protect and watch over anything she deemed worthy. Vanx remembered the giant ice snake, called Slither, that they’d killed. It had been bound to warn the witch if anything tried to cross the ice falls. Vrootch, the alpha of her pack of ill-bred wolven, had been charged with keeping those who did cross within the small area around the ramma rider’s cabin.
There were two of them left, Vanx remembered, and he had the witch’s crystal, and could control them, and a few other things with it. If there was something guarding the namestone garden, then maybe he could control it, too. But to be on the safe side, he started gathering weapons, potions, and spell components to battle something big.
Outside, in the gathering circle, just beyond the palace’s still-standing entry, was King Russet, in full gear suited for climbing, and cold.
“I thought I told you to stay,” said Vanx.
“Who are you to command me?” Russet nodded at Master Kruuga, who was also ready. “My sister could have claimed liege law, but she isn’t here. No one else has the rank.”
Vanx saw that they both had kangas saddled and ready.
“I am the ruler of this Deep, just like you are the ruler of Parydon.” Vanx looked him in the eye. “If you were to command me as such in Parydon, I would oblige you.”
Russet seemed to understand what Vanx was getting at and let out a huff. “I would not ask you to stand down against the thing that killed your father, Vanx.”
“We are not going after the Paragon Dracus, Russ.” Vanx gave Master Kruuga a look that said he wasn’t going, either. “We are going to find a rock with a name on it. Go with Master Kruuga and your crew, and get some more people out of Andwyn.”
Vanx was still holding the Zythian spellmaster’s gaze. “The Paragon is feeding to gain the power it needs to take Zyth, so Dyntalla will most likely be the safest place for the refugees.”
Master Kruuga nodded. He was wise enough to understand the reasoning without explanation. King Russet, however, was sulking as he started to lead his kanga away.
“Hey, King Russet,” Vanx used the title out of respect. “If I ever get dazed by that bastard, kill me quick.”
The way Russet Oakarm cocked his head told Vanx that the boy had already noticed the blue tint to his eyes in the portent. Vanx wondered what else he’d seen.
Chapter Sixteen
Her name was Itchy Witchy, and her arse was always twitchy,
but her tits made the sailors forget to care.
The first mate tried to fit her, but her bush was full of critters,
and the captain made him cut off all his hair.
- a sailor song
Moonsy, along with a young male elf riding a goat, and a true knee-tall, winged fairy with a bow twice as long as he was, arrived just as the sun broke the horizon beyond the ridge. Vanx almost laughed at Poops eyeing the buzzing, but dangerous-looking, fairy.
“This is Pongo,” Moonsy introduced the elf to Vanx. “That is Alectanzary. He is one of the most accurate archers among us.”
“Just call me Buzz,” Alectanzary said with a shrug. “Everyone else does.”
Zeezle’s sparkling hair was matted to one side of his head. As he approached, it began to look like he was in a windstorm that no one else was in. He gave everyone a grin and then made a half barrel of water appear before him. He took off his dragonskin jacket and then proceeded to dip his head in the barrel. His head was only under a second, and when he came up, he threw it back and danced around cursing over the unexpected temperature of the liquid.
“Conjured water materializes at the temperature of the source from which it is gathered,” lectured Master Kruuga sarcastically.
Zeezle just glared at him. He knew that, but had forgotten. He should have warmed it first. It would have only taken a second more of thought and two more words added to the spell. He felt silly then.
“I’m going, too,” said Chelda as she joined them.
“Yesterday, you were almost dead.” Vanx looked at her. “Are you sure?”
“I feel fine.” She seemed as if she wanted to say something about what Vanx had done to her with the dragon tear, but was wise enough to hold her tongue until they were alone.
“As sharp as ever, I see,” Vanx shrugged, acknowledging her look. “If you’re up to it.”
“Are you sure?” Moonsy asked, true concern showing through the love on her face.
“Bah,” King Russet grunted, and gathered Vanx’s attention back. “I will do as you suggest, friend, but you are being overconfident.”
“How so?” Vanx asked the young king.
“That thing could be gathering power for a hundred reasons.” Russet seemed frustrated that he knew Vanx was right about where he should be, and what he should be doing, but he didn’t like it. “It has opened holes in the sky and brought through armies. What if there is more? What if it is gathering strength so it can destroy the Heart Tree and all of this? What if the power of those teardrops is like the powders they sniff in the backs of the brothels? What if it is just gathering power because it can?”
Vanx almost asked Russet to go with them, because he was right. He was assuming a lot, to think taking Zyth was the Paragon’s goal.
In truth, Zyth had little to offer the Paragon.
“Thank you,” Vanx nodded his appreciation. “It probably just wants to harvest its precious tea
rdrops, like you said.”
“Either way, we have to stop it,” Russet nodded back. “I thank you, too, Vanx Saint Elm. I will try to observe what the remaining Trigon wizard is up to, and see what the dazed are doing as well. I would ask that you send Streak, with a dab of his potion, in case we get into something we can’t get out of.”
“Done.” They shared a nod then, as if they knew they’d meet again, and it would be in a clash of blades.
“If you see my sister, tell her I love her.”
“I will,” Vanx said, wondering what Russet would think if he knew his sister was with child.
After that, Vanx, Zeezle and Chelda followed Moonsy’s group north, up and out of the deeper valley. Vanx and Poops communicated through their familial bond, as the dog carried Moonsy on his back, behind the goat. At times, it seemed as if they were one, and the others but features of the world they were in, like trees, or the clouds in the sky.
Most of that first day was a negotiation of the least dense sections of a part of the Lurr Forest that Vanx had yet to explore. Using Poops’s senses along with his own, his worries were forgotten, and his ever curious nature took over. Most of his thoughts had little to do with humanity. He was finding wonder in the forest everywhere he looked. But the size of Chelda’s overstuffed backpack, and what might be in it, crossed his mind more than once.
He spotted several species of birds he’d never seen before, and saw a tree fox, leaping limb to limb as it chased a squirrel through the forest canopy. These things amazed Zeezle, too, but this was nothing new to the fae.
“What do you think guards the namestone garden at the foot of the trickle?” Zeezle asked Vanx.
“I don’t know what to expect,” answered Vanx truthfully.
“I don’t know if it has anything to do with the trickle,” Moonsy started, “but there is a beast we call the Mehha-Tehha who lives in that area, we know for certain. Or it did before the Paragon and his Trigon army came and--”
Killed General Thorn, Vanx figured she would have finished. He thought about Thorn then. He let his anger over losing his friend fuel his desire to learn the Paragon’s true name and then use it to do something far worse than banish the thing.
Paragon Dracus: The Legend of Vanx Malic Book Six Page 5