The Long Journey Home (The Legend of Vanx Malic Book 8)

by M. R. Mathias

  Both Zeezle and Vanx saw it happen, and both of them had to fight the urge to vomit the rest of the way.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Sometimes taking risks

  ends up with you rich.

  But sometimes all that thrill

  is how you end up killed.

  The place Vanx chose was nearly dead center of the Valley. He wanted this Heart Tree to have the largest Shadowmane possible. Using magical illumination and mirrors, he could ensure anything inside the ridge line was touched by the tree’s shadow, thus giving the whole valley its protection.

  It was well past midnight, and the now fully clear sky allowed the bright moon to make things easy. Only one more feeding beast came near Vanx and Zeezle, and it never even got that close. Moonsy swept by and scared the shit out of them all with a jag of magic. The creature fled back into the forested darkness that surrounded them and then maybe took flight.

  Poops stopped and did something Vanx had never seen him do before. The dog howled out. A few moments later, he actually received a chaotic response from a handful of other dogs.

  Home, Poops voiced to Vanx through their familiar link.

  Vanx nodded. Yup. This is where we met.

  There wasn’t a flat surface to smash the gem on. Vanx and Zeezle flipped a larger rock over so that its flattest side was facing up. They sat it on an even larger rock that was about chest high to them. They supported the flat chunk with some smaller stones piled against its sides, and then Vanx pulled out the amber gem.

  “That last thing Moonsy scared away may have been a dragon,” Zeezle said, his discomfort still showing. “Get on with it.”

  Vanx sat the gem down on the flat of the stone and got the hammer handle in his hand.

  Watch your eyes, Vanx voiced to anyone, but especially Moonsy and her hawk, through the ethereal. This will be intense.

  He then brought the hammer down with all his might, smashing the jewel into an expanding ring of incomparable force.

  Vanx was thrown a dozen feet backward, but Zeezle was there, crawling under the awe-inspiring plane of dust and magic. Pure, wholesome power, newly released, radiated through the valley.

  “It’s all stuck in your face,” Zeezle said, but Vanx barely heard him. He was caught up in the flow of the power that was reaching deep into the island’s core in search of the wisperion nut tree the Zwarvy kept down there.

  At first, it was like being a dry leaf floating on the surface of the power, but then the leaf absorbed enough magic for it to submerge and start to flex and bend with the flow. He was but a particle of dust in a river rushing over heavy stones. He was pulled and turned and twisted, and then he was still, floating deep in some, liquid-like space that just held him there, like a bubble in the middle of a block of cheese.

  Once one tree found the other, Vanx opened his eyes, and the dreamy sensation ceased. There was an empty place inside him then. He yearned for that power-soaked sensation, and always would, but he wouldn’t find it again here. The ground around them trembled, and the shit piles sucked down into the soil, only to be replaced by sprouting buds and turf. It all looked yellow through the filtered moonlight and the ever-expanding rings of magic, but Vanx knew it was really green and healthy.

  He wiped at his face and managed to get some of the tiny chips of jewel-dust out of his skin. Mostly, he just made his face bloody, and he was glad Zeezle was there, keeping the salty crimson stuff out of his eyes with a rag. Zeezle cast a healing, which helped, but Vanx knew that only the Glaive of Gladiolus would get the magical powder completely out of his skin.

  It was a relief when the magic exhausted its discharge.

  Bring the Glaive, Vanx voiced and was glad he saw Moonsy stalking up on foot.

  “That is our quest?” she asked, with a look of astonishment on her face. “To find those gems and create those?” She was pointing at the ever growing trunk of a giant elm tree that was rising right behind them.

  “It will be,” Vanx said, understanding something about his goddess for the first time. “We don’t even know where the next one is yet, but finding that out…” His words trailed off when Moonsy jabbed him with the Glaive.

  “Elva Toyon knows where one of the gems is.” Moonsy puffed her relatively ample chest out proudly.

  “What about Gallarael?” Vanx asked.

  “If she decides to come, Papri’s hawk can carry her.” The elven general shrugged. “Then it can return for him.”

  It was as if she wanted to get underway before the Troika changed their mind, and she was right. If Gallarael wanted to get there, the great hawk could carry her. She was curvy yet wispy in human form. She didn’t weigh any more than two elves, and Vanx could see, by the way the other elf’s hawk came flapping down among them, that one of the birds could easily carry two elves or maybe him or Zeezle in a pinch.

  “This is Anitha,” Moonsy introduced the elf. “She is a master of elven arcanery.”

  Vanx wasn’t all that surprised to see that Anitha was female. He’d mistaken the hawk rider for a male, but only because of the aggression she showed in battle and the cut of her hair. He smiled.

  “I’m Vanx, and this is Zeezle.”

  “That was amazing,” she said, her turquoise eyes glowing with excitement. “It went out across the sea where the ridge didn’t block the expansion. I felt it deep inside.” She shivered and grinned at Moonsy. “Didn’t you?”

  “I did.” Moonsy blushed but fought the fluster by narrowing her brows. “Now get hold of yourself. You represent King Longroot here, not the Coalition of Elven Maidens.”

  It was the other elf’s turn to blush.

  Vanx laughed despite the fact he would have to go retrieve the jewel that Elva Toyon knew about, instead of waiting for Gallarael.

  The feel of the gem crushing under the hammer—the feel of releasing all that power into the world, and into himself—was a rush that rivaled even the feel of Gallarael’s love. So there was no hesitation when he asked.

  “Well, where is it, then?”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  We’re off to go a questing.

  A questing we will go.

  Who will return and who will die

  no one really knows.

  It turned out that the stone the leader of the Troika Sven knew about wasn’t that far away. Vanx still didn’t know where to release it, but that didn’t matter. He had to get it first, and doing so gave Papri and his great hawk that much more time to find Gallarael and give her the message he’d penned.

  “So, we can go on the great hawks?” Vanx asked. “Just you and I, right now?”

  “I don’t see why not.” Moonsy grinned. “Anitha can ride with me, too. Her spells may be needed.”

  “Just make sure you bring the Glaive.” Vanx laughed. “It has saved us more times than you can imagine. Where are we going?” He asked her the question as he knelt next to Poops and began hugging the dog and scratching his ears.

  “A place called Three Tower Island,” she answered. “To the old wizard Falriggin’s dungeon.”

  Something flashed across her face, and Vanx caught it. He excused himself to take a piss, but once he was alone, he used the crystal hanging at his neck to communicate with Moonsy privately.

  What is it? he asked the elf. I saw a look on your face. I know that look.

  There wasn’t a look, she answered.

  Yes, there was. He said. Now tell me before we go.

  My father, Lieutenant Bristle Moonseed, died on a quest to Three Tower Island when Great Uncle Posey-Thorn retrieved the crystal Queen Corydalis used to call for your aid.

  She said it so fast Vanx had to think about the words.

  So there was a relation. Foxwise was Moonsy’s great uncle. He’d heard the tale of Thorn, Bristle, and Barb a few times. Foxwise was definitely a hero. He died a hero, saving Moonsy, but even before that, he’d been a special kind of person. He never shirked duty, even against insurmountable odds. And he died saving another’s life.


  None of that mattered now, for Vanx, Moonsy, and Anitha were about to mount the great hawks and fly to Three Tower Island and retrieve the gem.

  Vanx spent some time talking to Zeezle about the Zwarvy and the possibility that they might come investigating. The sun rose around them, revealing a lush turf with a newly grown forest of scattered shrubs and a few taller trees. The elm in the center of the valley was a hundred feet tall and looked as if it was still growing. The smell of shit had been replaced by the scent of pollen and fresh-budding wildflowers.

  Soon it was time to go. While Vanx and Zeezle talked, Poops went back over the ridge to the camp to stay with Chelda. Zeezle followed a little later.

  The two big birds and their riders could have used some food and rest, but they put aside their needs for the sake of haste. One of the great hawks carried Vanx; the other carried the two elves. Before long, they were in the air being carried back over the sea toward a set of towers on a small island in a lake Vanx had once passed in his travels.

  He remembered saying something, maybe to Brody, or Xavian, for the two humans had been alive then. He’d said he wanted to explore those ancient broken towers, and now here he was flying on a great bird to search the dungeons underneath them for a magical jewel.

  He thought about the epiphany he’d had about his goddess earlier. She’d always told him to follow his heart. She was angry because his heart had told him to go back to the far side of creation chasing the Paragon Dracus.

  Vanx knew his decision had cost a few dragons their lives as well as the deaths of a few friends. He wasn’t going to dwell in guilt, though. He had done what he’d done with the best of intentions.

  What was done was done. Still, he found himself wiping a tear from his eye over the loss of Pyra. She was a mighty beast, not some feathery windblown bird like he was riding now.

  They flew all of the day and night before spotting land in the earliest pinkening of the sky on the second day out. They reached land by evening and camped high on a ledge on a cliff facing the sea they’d just crossed. Nothing could get to the birds as they rested, and there was no need to post a watch, so they ate and slept and then ate and slept some more.

  The next morning, the birds fed on fish, and Vanx stole some of the meat for himself. Moonsy ate wafers and sipped battle berry juice, for she said they’d reach Three Tower Island before nightfall.

  More than once, Vanx had been tempted to veer south and go to Orendyn in search of Gallarael, but Moonsy somehow kept him on track.

  They did arrive that day, and even though they made it before dark, they camped in the woods a short flight away from the lake.

  There was a human settlement on the distant side of the reservoir, a village of fishermen who braved the unprotected lands to come fill their nets when the season was right. Even though he wasn’t using Poop’s senses, he could smell the woodsmoke.

  “We will go in the morning before the sun comes up and have the birds leave us.” Moonsy spoke the plan to Vanx and Anitha by the tiny campfire they’d allowed themselves.

  “We could go now,” Vanx suggested. “In the dungeon, it won’t matter if it is day or night.”

  “We’ve been flying for days, Vanx.” She looked at him and forced a softer expression on her face. “More than twice as long as you have. Besides, the longer we take here, the more time Papri has to find Gal.”

  “There is that.” Vanx smiled back.

  As he tried to sleep that night, he found he missed his dog. Unlike any other bond in his life, that was the only one that could never be severed.

  Oddly, he dreamed of howling dogs and an island that was once full of fearful predators, but was now full of mostly easy prey.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Can you feel it,

  strong and true?

  Until cold steel

  comes slicing through.

  The towers looked ominous, like jagged broken teeth, against the setting moon. Dawn would break before long, and Vanx was groggy but eager to get what they came for. Hopefully, they would also find a clue as to where he should crack the seed or, better yet, the location of more seed-gems.

  Vanx had just gotten into a deeper sort of sleep when Moonsy shook him and said, “Let’s get mounted. Dawn is coming.”

  He had been the one raring to go yesterday, so he fought away the grogginess, and now here he was, flying toward two broken towers and another that was barely standing.

  Pwca, the little turd, turned shapeshifting devil, stole most anything of Falriggin’s that had power. But Moonsy said Elva Toyon knew the jewel was still here.

  “Does she know where?” Vanx asked. They were looking at the crumbled ruins of the nearest tower. Vanx realized the mostly standing tower was leaning over so far that one good kick and it could fall right on them. He urged the two elves over to the rubble that had Moonsy so curious.

  “I think this is where they went in.” She pointed at a stone stair that led down, under the rubble. “But this is not the tower we must search.”

  “No.” Vanx shook his head. “If the wind blows, it might crumble down on us.”

  “Which tower do you think he lived in, Vanx? The crumbled ones or the mostly whole one.” Moonsy had her hands on her hips and looked like a stubborn little girl.

  “I can fortify it, Master Malic,” Anitha said reassuringly.

  “Please, call me Vanx.” Vanx took her in, trying to see if she was just humoring him. “Malic is the name of a village, not a family name.”

  “Fine, Vanx.” She made some elaborate arm movements and closed her eyes.

  A shimmering field of yellow energy flowed off of her waist-tall elven form, like she was melting and it was the liquid puddle. It oozed across the ground as she directed with her hand. When it reached the leaning tower, it began tracing its way upward through the joints and cracks in the mortar all the way to the fractured top. Then the glow faded.

  “It is done.” She gave him a bow. “It will not crumble down upon on us.”

  The turquoise color of her eyes was almost mesmerizing. Almost.

  Vanx went to where a well-rotted wooden door stood ajar at the tower base. The sun was giving the sky a peachy streak, and Vanx was now concerned that the fishermen might have seen Anitha’s glowing arcanery and would come investigate.

  After he eased into the parlor-like room, he decided that if the fishermen saw anything, they would stay well clear. With that thought in mind, he cast a soft illumination spell, and picked his way through the broken furniture and debris over to a stone spiral stair that led down. He turned to point it out to Moonsy, but she and Anitha walked right past him and started jumping down the man-sized steps one at a time.

  Gallarael read Vanx’s note one more time.

  The nervous elf, Papri, seemed very worried to be there.

  Gallarael finished reading and asked him why. “What has you so upset, brave Papri?”

  “Well, um, you…you are a princess, and General Moonseed ordered me to send you back on my bird.” He looked at his boots and shrugged sheepishly. “How can I make you fly back?”

  “You can’t,” she said sharply.

  “Then you see why I’m all a mess.” Papri grinned when he saw she was smiling. “The general, or Anitha, could probably spell you to go, but I am just an archer.”

  Deep inside, Gallarael’s heart soared. Of course she wanted to get away from the fake smiles and snickering whispers over the rumors of her strange deeds in the war.

  She would miss Salma and Darbon. Salma was with child and due in three turns of the moon, as best as anyone could tell. Even still, she wanted away from these bootlicking gossip mongers as fast as she could.

  The very same people who called her a friend wondered in secret if she was human at all. She had killed quite a few of the Trigon. Some local soldiers had seen her in changeling form, and from there the rumors had grown. It was fun at first, but it had gotten old quickly. She longed to be trekking with her friends, as she
had been since she’d been changed, but they’d left her behind…or she got left behind. This was a chance. She knew she had to take it.

  In truth, she couldn’t get far enough away. The snobbish debauchery, the charade that was a princess’s world, in a sea of novice socialites had become sickening. And the idea that Vanx had gotten himself ship, like his father, had its own appeal.

  “Where is the great hawk?” she asked. “And how much of my stuff can you carry when it returns for you?”

  She laughed at herself. Sometimes, she was as shallow as those she despised. Such was the life of a shapeshifting princess. With Vanx and her friends, she was Gallarael. And she was tired of having to be anything else.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Two pinches of clover

  and a single pinch of coal.

  That’s how you keep hidden

  whatever’s in your hidey hole.

  Vanx let Moonsy lead them into the depths of Falriggin’s crumbling tower. She seemed to know where they were going, or maybe she just kept going down deeper into the complex at every opportunity. Either way, they eventually ended up on a smooth carved floor that had no more passages going down.

  Anitha was behind Moonsy and was using some sort of shield that made even the spiders and rats flee them. This left Vanx in the rear. He drew his sword out of habit but doubted he’d have to use it.

  This wasn’t dungeoneering with clumsy men. This was searching and clearing a building with two purposeful, and powerful, little female elves.

  From the lowest floor they could find, Anitha cast a spell that would detect any arcane activity or artifacts that radiated magic. Vanx began to worry as her look went from excited to fearful and frustrated in the span of a few heartbeats.

  “What is it?” He couldn’t help but ask.

  “Your gem is about two floors up, in that direction, in a hidey hole in the wall.” She pointed up at an odd angle. “But,” the word was said with emphasis, “there is a ward, and only one of us will be able to enter the magical construct.”