by Mel Odom
“I tried,” Juhg said. She had posted Raisho and Cobner on his door for six hours and not allowed anyone in to see him.
Jassamyn looked accusingly at the young sailor and the dwarven warrior.
“Don’t look at me,” Cobner protested. “I didn’t see no light in his room.
“I climbed up onto the roof and read by candlelight,” Juhg said. He’d found a small space, just dweller-sized, next to the hostelry’s big chimney. It had provided protection for the candle as well as obscuring him from sight of the people gathered and talking in the streets about the story of the dweller Librarian and the Grandmagister held by goblinkin in the Haze Mountains.
Jassamyn sighed and looked exasperated. She’d only that day removed the sutures from his face. She’d been right: the scar left by the goblinkin club was going to be a frightful one. For now, the flesh was still puffy and pink, showing signs of having been freshly healed.
“Tuhl’s journal was encrypted, too,” Juhg said, “but the code wasn’t nearly as specific as the one the Grandmagister used. Tuhl used a simple exchange method that I’ve seen several times before. I found out that Aldhran Khempus had been working with the other Library for a while.”
“He was a Librarian?” Cobner asked.
“No. He’s a wizard. At least, that’s what the people at the other Library believed him to be. From all accounts, he came from nowhere. He had no history. But he knew about the Library. About both Libraries, actually. But he didn’t know where the Vault of All Known Knowledge or Greydawn Moors was.” Juhg shook his head. “Khempus was the one who spelled the book that Ertonomous Dron carried in Kelloch’s Harbor.”
“The one that opened the gate in the Vault of All Known Knowledge that allowed the Blazebulls, Dread Riders, and Grymmlings in?” Cobner asked.
“Yes. There were forty-seven other books that Khempus took the time to trap in a like manner. All of them were sent out to different locations.”
“Bait for a trap,” Raisho said.
“And I found it,” Juhg said.
“Herby found it,” Raisho corrected. “Ye an’ me an’ Capt’n Attikus an’ Windchaser, why we just brought it back to Greydawn Moors. That was what we was supposed to do.”
“I know. And Khempus knew that, too. When the trap was sprung, he was prepared to sail from the mainland, not knowing he was much closer than he’d thought.”
“But you said Khempus wasn’t working for the other Library,” Jassamyn said.
“He wasn’t. As soon as the trap was sprung, Khempus left the other Library. According to Tuhl’s journal, the Librarians believed that Khempus suspected the Grandmagister knew where the pieces of The Book of Time were.
“How?”
Juhg shook his head. “We’ll have to ask the Grandmagister. I suspect, though, that their paths crossed. From when I was taken captive aboard the goblinkin ship, I gathered that they had a history together.”
“So as soon as Khempus knew where Greydawn Moors was,” Raisho said, “he quit the Library cold an’ met up with his goblinkin chums.”
“Yes.” Juhg took out Tuhl’s blood-stained journal. “What Khempus may not know is that Tuhl spent time in the Haze Mountains with the goblinkin there. He spoke their language and often used them to search for The Book of Time. Gave them information for treasure hunts and looting in exchange for murder and kidnapping.”
“Like he was doing in the Drylands,” Cobner growled.
“Yes. Tuhl suspected that the fourth section of The Book of Time, the red gemstones—or stone, if the elves are correct—was located in the goblinkin keep.”
“Ye keep sayin’ it’s a goblinkin keep,” Raisho said, “but I didn’t know goblinkin built keeps.”
“They don’t,” Juhg agreed. “Before the goblinkin took it over, before the Cataclysm, the keep belonged to humans. A group of traders that specialized in hauling goods up and down the mountains on both sides. They called the place the Eagle’s Nest because it was so high. They were not always honest with everyone they traded with, though, and had many enemies. Some they were jealous of and some they just didn’t like. All of their chosen enemies were powerful, though. That was why they carved escape routes into the mountain.”
“How do you know that?” Cobner asked.
“Because Tuhl found the journals written by one of the family members years ago,” Juhg said, flipping through the pages of the blood-stained journal. “Tuhl had thought The Book of Time might have been hidden in one of them, so he explored them. Without the goblinkin knowing.”
“He wrote about that in his journal?” Jassamyn asked.
“Yes.” Juhg tapped one of the pages. “Here.”
“Does Khempus know about them?” the elven maid asked.
“According to Tuhl, no. The Library planned, if they could find a thief or band of thieves brave enough, to hire him or them to steal The Book of Time from Khempus in the event that he found it.”
“I don’t see what good that does any of us,” Cobner complained.
Jassamyn sat forward in her chair and grinned at Juhg. “Because Tuhl left a map, didn’t he?”
Smiling himself, crookedly because the wound at the side of his face hurt terribly, Juhg flipped the page and revealed the first of the diagrams Tuhl had recorded in his journal. He touched part of the map. “This one,” he said, “goes to the dungeon where I saw the Grandmagister.”
The barge trip down the Dragon’s Tongue took five days. The army held up the on the fourth day and camped out in the Sighing Forest so they could travel the last leg of their journey by night and not be detected.
Past midnight, Juhg arrived in the basin where One-Eyed Peggie was tied up. The port city that occupied the stretch of land around Spit Basin at the end of the Dragon’s Tongue—the derogatory name of the place earned by the cutthroats, smugglers, thieves, and brigands who called the city home—was still in full swing and had a reputation for indulging in sinful delights until dawn.
High above the city on a rocky shelf of land nearly eight thousand feet above, putting it almost fifteen thousand feet above sea level, the blunt lines of the goblinkeep sat in the craggy crown of the Haze Mountains. The wispy clouds that circled the mountain range earned their name in the bright moonslight.
Stealing through the alleys between the well-lighted taverns festooned with festive colored lanterns, Juhg and his companions made their way to the docks without drawing attention to themselves. They were surprised to see Hallekk standing out on deck awaiting them.
The big dwarf stood with his arms folded over his broad chest. “Juhg,” he said, looking at the scar on the dweller’s face. “It’s good to see ye. Ye’ve had a hard time of it from what I seen.” When Juhg stepped onto the deck, Hallekk took him in a fierce embrace and held him tight for a moment.
For a moment, Juhg was nonplussed. Then he reasoned out Hallekk’s seeming precognitive ability. “The monster’s eye,” he said.
Hallekk greeted the others and welcomed them aboard. “Since we put down anchor here an’ been waitin’ on ye, there ain’t been much else to do.”
With One-Eyed Peggie slowly rolling a little to allow for the river current spilling into the basin, Juhg almost felt like he’d come home. Only one thing—one person—was missing.
“What of the Grandmagister?” Juhg asked in a small voice.
“He’s alive,” Hallekk said. “Khempus has done hard for him, Juhg, but he’s managed to stay alive.”
Juhg let out a tense breath. After losing Craugh, hearing bad news about the Grandmagister would have emptied him.
“Ye’ve got an army a-waitin’ out in them woods,” Hallekk said. “That surprised me.”
“It surprised me, too,” Juhg admitted. “But talk of what is happening out in Greydawn Moors has already reached this far.”
“It’s them caravans,” Hallekk said. “Ye’ll never meet a busier bunch of busybodies tellin’ stories an’ news and stuff.”
“So I see. Though I’d neve
r before suspected they could get news out this quickly.”
“It’s important news,” Jassamyn said. “It’s not every day that you find out a Library exists. I can still remember when the Grandmagister told me.”
“Most of these morons around here don’t believe it,” Hallekk said. “They talk about it an’ such, but they don’t believe it. All they think is that the island is gonna become a goblinkin lodestone an’ get ever’body there kilt.”
“It almost did that.”
Hallekk looked at Juhg. “Me an’ my crew, we’re about fed up to the gills with sittin’ around an’ makin’ nice with people we’d rather be deepsixin’. What are ye gonna do with that army ye raised up?”
“We’re going to climb that mountain,” Juhg said, “and we’re going to free the Grandmagister and finish putting The Book of Time back together.”
It was eight thousand feet, give or take, from the basin at the foot of the Haze Mountains to the keep. If it had been on level ground, it would only have taken a man thirty minutes or so to walk. Climbing that distance, even though they were able to negotiate the distance without resorting to climbing ropes and pitons, took hours.
Finding the secret entrance that had been disclosed in Tuhl’s journal took almost another hour. Dawn had started to streak the eastern side of the Haze Mountains by that time, and Juhg worried that the day would come before they were in place.
He, Raisho, Cobner, Jassamyn, and thirty warriors culled from the ranks of the humans, dwarves, and elves—all of them trained and experienced warriors, guaranteed by their peers—made the climb.
At the top where the air was thin, Juhg had to stand for a moment to try to catch his breath. His head spun and his knees felt weak.
Raisho came up beside him and put a hand on his shoulder. “Are ye okay, scribbler?”
Juhg nodded. For a moment, he couldn’t speak.
“Don’t want to put any more pressure on ye than ye already got,” the young sailor said, “but ye’re leadin’ these men. They’re goin’ on faith with ye. If’n ye take a nosedive in here, it might not go over so good with the troops.”
“It’s the height,” Juhg said. “It always affects me like this. I’ll be all right. Just give me a minute.” He looked up at his friend and saw the worry in Raisho’s eyes. “I’ll get this done. Craugh gave his life to get us this far, and the Grandmagister has held out this long waiting on us. I’m not going to stop now.” He took another breath and straightened, squaring his shoulders.
Another three hundred feet above, the rocky ledge where the goblinkin keep perched looked barren and alone. The goblinkin didn’t even bother to patrol above, knowing that no army could encamp in the broken terrain on that side of the keep and certain that the long, winding road leading up to the keep’s massive front gates was well guarded.
Juhg crossed to the boulder where Tuhl had indicated the secret door was hidden. The scrubby trees protected the area from being seen from above. Grabbing the boulder and finding it delicately balanced, Juhg rocked it in the manner Tuhl had written about, listening for the clicks that signaled the tumblers were closing inside the lock.
At the fourth click, the boulder leaned over and brought up the hidden door, revealing a square tunnel cut into the earth. Iron rungs mounted on the wall offered handholds down into the waiting darkness.
Cobner, dressed in armor he’d insisted on packing up the mountain, volunteered to go first. He swung down and started stepping down. When he reached the floor below, he called for a lantern.
Juhg lit the lantern and passed it down on a small rope. Then he swung down, followed by Raisho, who was assigned to stay with him no matter what happened.
The air inside the tunnel was musty and old. With thirty-four people standing in the narrow confines, most of them wearing armor and some more than others, bristling with weapons, the available space filled up quickly.
Cobner took the lead when they were all down and the hidden door was again hidden. Juhg trotted at the dwarven warrior’s side, just two steps behind.
No directions were necessary. The tunnel ran straight for a hundred yards, till it was up under the center of the keep.
Juhg felt tense and nervous. His stomach fluttered and he wanted to throw up. That wouldn’t show much leadership, he told himself glumly as he fought the urge.
By now Ashkar, Hallekk, and the other leaders who had been picked from the groups of humans, elves, and dwarves that had come to rescue the Grandmagister, who had protected the Vault of All Known Knowledge, were outside. They hid in the last of the night’s shadows on the western side of the Haze Mountains, well below the hundred-yard area the goblinkin kept cleared in the unlikely event they were ever attacked.
The pieces of The Book of Time felt hot against Juhg’s chest. Looking down, he saw that they glowed strongly enough to show through the leather. He reasoned that it had to be because they were in close proximity to the final piece.
Does that mean that the goblinkin piece is reacting, too? He didn’t know and it was far too late to do anything about that. Not too late to worry about it, though.
At the end of the tunnel, another set of handholds led up.
Cobner shined his lantern up, splashing the light against the iron door. “Where does this come out?”
“In the dungeon. Evidently the man who designed this thought it was possible he could get locked in his own dungeon.”
“Optimistic sort, wasn’t he?” The dwarven warrior grinned. “Me, I figure if they catch us and get they chance, the goblinkin will kill us outright. I know I’m planning the same for them.” He moved the lantern light over to the tunnel cut into the wall beside the door. “And where does that one go?”
“To the lord’s private chambers.”
“Be interesting to find out if we could catch Aldhran Khempus abed, now wouldn’t it? Would make short work of this attack. Aside from killing a lot of goblinkin, of course. But that’s something you can develop a liking for.”
“We get the Grandmagister first,” Juhg said. “Then we try to find the final piece of The Book of Time and shut down whatever power Aldhran Khempus is siphoning off of it.”
Cobner grabbed the first rung on the wall and started up. “Whereat does this come out in the dungeon? ’Cause if it’s at the front door, I want to know if I’m going to have goblinkin trying to thump my knob soon as I stick it up.”
“At the back,” Juhg answered, and hoped that was right. Tuhl’s drawings hadn’t been to any specific scale and that had bothered him. Details mattered.
Crowded in behind Cobner, Juhg waited till the dwarf raised the iron door a little and peered through. Then Cobner went slow and stealthy, with the grace and ease of a cat in spite of the armor he wore.
Juhg went up into the room after the dwarf, feeling his injured ankle twinge a little with the strain. He breathed slow and easy, which was hard because his lungs still felt like they were starved for air.
Cobner squatted behind a corner of the dungeon cell they’d come out into. Juhg took up a position behind him and looked over his armored shoulder.
The Grandmagister hung limply in the same manacles Juhg had seen him in when he’d managed to visit him briefly through the blue gemstones. Some of the cuts on the Grandmagister’s back and arms had healed a little only to be broken open by new violence.
Unconsciously, Juhg started to get up. Cobner laid a big hand in the middle of his chest and sat him back down again. The dwarven warrior pointed to Jassamyn and the elven archers in the group, then at the six goblinkin that stood guard in the dungeon. Three of the goblinkin were asleep, sitting and standing in their assigned positions along the hallway. One of them was pulling nits. And the other two passed the time talking to each other about meals they’d made of dwellers.
Cobner lifted a hand, held it, then dropped it.
Elven-made arrows leapt from elven-made bows. All of them pierced their targets through the throat, making it impossible for the goblinkin to yell a
warning to anyone posted outside the dungeon. Two of the goblinkin dropped dead on the spot because the arrows had caught them with their heads leaned back and the arrowpoints had driven deeply into their brains as well. The other four stumbled around in shocked surprise, but Juhg was certain they would get around to remembering the door any moment.
They didn’t get a moment, though, because Cobner jumped out of hiding and lunged for the goblinkin. His axe swung twice, eviscerating one goblinkin and splitting the skull of another. More elven arrows accounted for the other two.
Juhg ran to the Grandmagister’s side, his heart torn at the bloody sight of his mentor.
“Juhg,” the Grandmagister whispered in his hoarse voice. “Is it really you?”
“Yes,” Juhg said. He took out the lockpick he’d brought to deal with the manacles and quickly unlocked them.
Once free of the iron bands, the Grandmagister would have slumped to the floor if Juhg had not caught him. Tears burned Juhg’s eyes but he refused to shed them. Don’t be weak now, he told himself. The Grandmagister isn’t safe yet.
Ashkar knelt beside the Grandmagister. “Is this him? The Grandmagister?”
“Yes,” Juhg answered.
The Grandmagister’s eyes opened.
“They already knew,” Juhg told him. “Since the attack on Greydawn Moors, they knew.”
Weakly, the Grandmagister nodded. It was the most bedraggled Juhg had ever seen his mentor look, even after they had spent weeks on the run along the mainland. Open sores wept infection. He stank terribly.
“Grandmagister Lamplighter,” Ashkar said politely as he took a small stopper vial from the kit that hung at his belt, “I’ve got a potion here that should help you regain some of your strength and stave off the pain for a while. Afterwards, you’ll sleep for a day or two. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” the Grandmagister said. He looked at the elven warder. “You’re a Woodwind elf, from the Sighing Forest.”
“Yes.” Ashkar smiled. “Once of the Silverglen elves before Lord Kharrion destroyed our homes. We had all but forgotten what Silverglen was like until your apprentice told us.”