by GARY DARBY
No one speaks, everyone sits perfectly still, their eyes on me. Then Alonya reaches out, lays her hand on my shoulder and squeezes. “Well said, brother, well said.”
“Aye,” Amil nods. “You said it better than I ever could.”
Cara nudges me with her shoulder and gives me a small smile. “I agree.”
“Anyone else?” Phigby asks after a small wait. “No? Then, let’s get on with it.” He brings his ever-present bag to the fore, sits with his back to a cruller tree, and motions for me to sit beside him as he digs into his satchel.
As I lower myself to the soft sand, I can’t help but notice that Phigby’s bag is more threadbare than before, but then again, so is Phigby’s sea-green robe. Our journey is not only taking its toll on mind and body but on our accouterments as well.
The rest of the company slides to the ground with the pixies climbing into Alonya’s lap, faces cupped by their hands, elbows resting on her knees.
Cara eases herself next to me and whispers, “Ready for this?”
“How can anyone ever be ready?” I reply.
“Yes, but the sisters did say we were getting close to the end.”
“True, but we’re not there yet, are we?”
Just as I finish my sentence, Phigby lays the Gaelian Ode book in my lap. I let out a sigh, draw Galondraig and pluck Sea Bright’s gemstone out of the hilt. Glancing over at Talia and Snag who watch with wide eyes and keen interest, I quickly explain what is about to happen.
While Snag’s mouth drops a little in evident astonishment, he stays silent, whereas Talia, whose eyes are big and round at my telling of what is to occur, gushes, “A book that guides you from place to place? Amazing!”
“You’ll not find it so amazing,” Amil grumbles, “if it directs us to a place like the Wailing Swamp, or the Lost Forest, or—”
“To beautiful islands with white, soft sand,” Alonya interrupts.
“With gentle breezes,” Marce nods.
“And warm, clear waters,” Pim adds.
“Oh, wait,” Cara smiles, “we’re already there. Sorry, Amil, you can’t wish for that anymore.”
To Talia’s questioning expression, Cara explains, “Several times that’s what Amil wished for with the book and now we’ve made it to your beautiful islands, only we had to fight our way through some horrible places to get here.”
“Along with some very nasty creatures on land,” Alonya says, “plus a legion of sea-monsters.”
“Aye,” Amil grouses, “so I’ve given up wishing, but I’m still hoping it doesn’t send us to another Wailing—”
“We know, Amil,” Phigby quickly interrupts. “Now before we lose the light, Hooper, would you be so kind?”
I take the book, rub my hand over its cover, my fingers pressing into the rounded slots that arch from one corner to the other. “After this, only one more gemstone to go.”
“Indeed, lad,” Phigby replies so softly it’s almost a whisper, “and we know which one it will be. But for now, let us see what Sea Bright’s Tursperle gem has in store for us.”
With a nod, I meet his eyes, for it is obvious what’s the next gemstone. The question is where the jewel will come from? What crimson dragon will have to die or offer the ultimate sacrifice to bring it forth? Will it be one of our reds or another?
I let my eyes sweep over the ring of dragons who now sit on their haunches, watching me hold the indigo jewel. My heart is heavy as I can’t bear the thought that it might be one of our own who is called upon to make that sacrifice.
Inside the Tursperle I can see tiny swirls as if wind and wave move about inside the jewel’s dark blue, almost purple interior. At a little nudge from Cara I carefully place it in the sixth depression in the book’s cover.
For a heartbeat, nothing happens, and then a warm light spreads outward from all sides of the sealed book. On the front, in gold, shimmer the words, The Ode of the Gaelian Fae.
The glimmering grows brighter and then with a loud crack the clasp pops up, the strap snaps back, and the book opens. As if a gusty breeze whipped the pages, they fly by until they stop at a certain point.
The pages glow in a light blue edged in a purplish hue. Around the page’s edge are waves that rise and fall and leaping from the water are sea-dragons. They flash upward before they spin and then dive into the water where they swim for a few moments before darting up into the sky, hovering for a moment before again plunging into the waves.
Then, rising from the center with swift wingbeats until he comes to float just above the page is Sea Bright. His eyes are alert, clear, and he remains motionless for a moment before turning to Talia with a bow of his head.
Talia gasps. “Sea Bright?!”
“You see him?” I ask.
Talia nods several times. Then, Sea Bright turns to me and bows his head, to which I answer in a husky voice, “Thank you, Sea Bright, for your bravery and sacrifice.”
With that, the courageous sea-dragon bows his head again, tucks his wings, and plunges downward to let the shimmering water engulf him.
Light purple letters, rimmed in gold, appear over the pages where they float for a moment before snapping onto the sheets. Taking a breath, I begin to read,
Indigo its scales were meant to be
Never for the land, but always the sea
To sky above, to sail below
In the sea’s quiet darkness, or the sun’s warm glow
This is our gift to thee, our friend
With the other gems, it shall blend
To give you power over wave and wind
That to Vay you shall never bend
Add this stone, this jewel so bright
So to the world you may bring light
Purity of the ocean, purity of the mind
No longer beset by the hatred that blinds
Remember always, Gem Guardian true
These gifts are never just for you
For it is to the giving that they hark
And show the servant his truest mark
And for this, I gladly do my part
A willing spirit, ready to depart
Always together, never apart
To remember ever, the sacrifice of the heart.
I glance over at Talia and see eyes brimming with tears. They trickle down one cheek and with the back of her hand, she wipes them away. “I know exactly how you feel,” I murmur, to which she gives me a nod and a small smile.
“Lass,” Amil says to her, “if you think that was the worst of it, I suggest you get a grip on yourself for you’ve actually seen the best.”
Talia turns questioning eyes to me.
“This is where that guiding part I talked about comes in.”
I slip my fingers under the pages and turn. The pages flip up and over and above them form letters colored a dark purple and trimmed in gold. They hang for a moment before they snap onto the page.
Cara’s hand on my arm tightens as I read,
Speedily to the east you must go
To aid an ally against a fiendish foe
Make all haste, you cannot delay
On swiftest wings by night and day
Hidden to the world this friend has stayed
Deep within an unknown glade
To his ears come whisperings true
Of Vay’s evil intent and malevolent brew
Consider his words and listen well
For they will guide you over mountain and dell
There to find Vay’s portal keep
In fire and ice, it lies so deep
Three parts to Vay’s vileness dwell
On Erdron’s mountains, lakes, and dells
Killed the Nameless One you did
The evil that lurks in mind and hid
Now find her gate, the hidden lair
Which in courage only you would dare
Stop her armies who lie in wait
To come forth through her veiled gate
After the whisperer find those who with fire do meld
With pounding hammer and sharp chisel do weld
Armor strong, armor bright
Dragon-scale strength with glow of light
Release them now from Vay’s vile claws
And join they will in your noble cause
To you they will grant their fullest measure
And share with you their greatest treasure
Hearken not that Vay’s darkness still sprouts
Courage, faith, and loyalty will ease your doubts
Your quest grows closer to its end
Only know your enemy and fear a friend.
The book snaps shut and there is silence for a moment before Amil bellows, “No! It can’t be serious! To destroy Vay’s portal! That’s—” he sputters, “madness. No, sheer madness, no—”
“Your objection is duly noted, Amil,” Phigby dryly replies and turns to the rest of us. “It really should come as no surprise; after all, the sisters did warn us.”
“To find, yes,” Amil spits out, “but—but to destroy?!”
I understand Amil’s outburst for I too am wondering if we haven’t been sent on an impossible mission. How can our one small company achieve what seems to be a task for a mighty army?
But I have another quandary. What did the ode mean in its last warning, fear a friend?
My eyes slowly rove over the company. Each is a friend that I trust—how could I ever fear one of them? Then my eyes rest on Helmar, whose head is down, his gaze hidden from me. I lick lips that suddenly go dry as I stare at Helmar. Did I not once consider him a friend, but in a way, at one point did I not fear him as well?
Since his return to the company, he’s kept to himself, said little, though he was valiant in the MerDraken battle. Could Glai have turned him during his time with the Sung Dar? Is he the friend that I must fear?
Cara speaks up, her voice interrupting my dark thoughts. “Phigby? What does it mean? Vay’s portal?”
For a long time, Phigby stares at the sand and to my eyes, he’s a man not just lost in his own thoughts, but he dreads what his mind is portraying—for him and for us.
Slowly, he reaches over, picks the book off my lap and stuffs it into his bag. “It means,” he roughly answers, “that we must face what I’ve feared for some time.”
“Which is?” Tavin asks.
“The moons tell the story,” Phigby replies. “No matter our efforts, and others’—Vay’s power grows as we saw in our last confrontation.”
“Even after you killed that nameless thing that lurked in the Lost Forest?” Snag questions.
“Yes,” Phigby sighs, “even so. As the ode states, there are three parts to Vay’s evil, we destroyed but one part—there are two more to go.”
“I for one do not understand, Master Phigby,” Alonya questions.
Phigby purses his lips, pinches them between two fingers. “What we destroyed in the Lost Forest was the evil that one can see, or feel, but can’t always put a name to. That’s one part of Vay’s evil.”
He stops for a moment before saying, “Think of it this way, have you not been in a situation, or felt unease in some place or with some people, or seen an instance in which you felt more than disquiet, you felt it was wrong but couldn’t put a name to what caused it to be wrong?”
Alonya nods while answering, “Yes, at times.”
“Then you’ve met nameless evil,” Phigby replies. “You knew it when you saw it, or felt it, but couldn’t explain exactly what or why. Such evil often hides in plain view, for no one wants to call it wicked because they simply cannot tell why they feel that way, or they are afraid to offend.
“The way to defeat such evil is to shine light upon it and call it what it is, as we did to the Nameless One hiding in the Lost Forest where it waited for Vay to bring it forth to spread its terror across Erdron.”
“Only we beat her to it,” Amil states.
“Yes,” Phigby acknowledges, before he glances over at me, “but we had to find it first, did we not? It is the same with Vay’s portal. It is the gateway to the netherworld which allows Vay to bring forth her noxious hosts and it is the second part of Vay’s evil.”
“A gateway to evil, noxious creatures. How lovely,” Cara returns.
“Yes,” Phigby acknowledges and goes on. “Vay has but one portal from the underworld to Erdron. Destroy it and we end her ability to call forth malevolent creatures from the otherworld to fight beside her.”
“That I can understand,” Marce replies, “but what is the third part of Vay’s evil?”
Phigby doesn’t answer her but turns to me with a questioning expression. I raise my head and gaze at Marce. “Vay herself. She’s the embodiment of all that’s foul, wicked, named or unnamed. That which we recognize openly, or that which hides in the shadows and we can’t name, or the gates which we choose to open, letting evil into our lives.”
Phigby nods, lays a hand on my shoulder. “Couldn’t have said it better myself.”
“So,” Tavin muses, “the ode book would have us raze Vay’s gateway to the netherworld.”
“To prevent her from bringing more of her foul creatures from the otherworld,” Alonya states.
“Where apparently an army waits,” Phigby agrees.
“But why?” Pim questions. “Why don’t we try and slay Vay instead? Why chance our own destruction by going after this portal instead of killing the one who wields the power to use the gate? That would make more sense.”
“Excellent questions, lass,” Amil agrees and with the rest of us, turns to peer at Phigby. He again stares at the sand, his eyes narrowed and unblinking. When he doesn’t answer, I nudge him and ask, “Phigby? Did you hear Pim?”
“Yes,” Phigby replies in a small voice, “I heard her.”
“And?” Cara prompts.
“And . . .” Phigby growls, as he shakes his head, “we cannot face Vay yet because we are not ready.”
“Ready?” Amil snorts. “Ready for what?”
Phigby locks eyes with him. “To face Vay at the final battle in which we may all die.”
CHAPTER TWO
The only sound that breaks the silence is the ocean’s waves that swish softly as they sweep up onto the beach before they drain back into the sea. “This final battle,” Cara asks softly, “how soon, Phigby? Will it be at Vay’s portal?”
Phigby’s answer is slow in coming as he strokes his beard, his eyes narrowed and staring off into the distance. “That I can’t answer,” he replies, his voice low and measured. “But I do know that if we do not destroy Vay’s gate she will bring a host of powerful, evil creatures the likes of which Erdron has never seen and which we may not be able to overcome.”
He gestures toward Talia’s Wave Master trident. “It would be as if Vay had her own Wave Master and could bring wave upon wave of dark creatures to flood Erdron, killing, maiming, destroying everything as they sweep across land and sea.”
Cara and I exchange glances, her eyes wide with concern, no doubt mirroring my own. Phigby’s grim portrayal of our fate and of Erdron’s is harsh, bleak.
“However,” Alonya muses, “if we do destroy her portal, it would mean she faces us with the army she has now instead of the greater one she could form otherwise.”
“True,” Tavin replies, “as my father often reminded me, when war comes, you fight with the army you have, not the one you wish you had.”
“You know,” Amil mutters as he rubs a hand across his chin, “maybe I was wrong about that wishing business. Should have wished for a mite bigger army than the one I see on this island. After all, I did wish for islands with sandy beaches and crystal-clear water and that’s what we got.”
“Along with Kraguns, Gorgs,” Alonya retorts, “and—”
“Never mind,” Amil growls, “I take it back.”
Talia leans forward a little and asks, “And what of those we are to find first? This Whisperer and those who with fire do meld—”
“Armor,” Phigby interjects, “of dragon-scale strength?�
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“Yes,” Talia replies.
“I can only surmise,” Phigby replies, “that it refers in some way to the Meile armor crafted by the Devlon Dwarfs.”
“Hold on,” Cara says, “I remember you telling us about that armor, how anyone who wore it was practically invulnerable to sword, arrow, or lance, but that it was so expensive that only the richest kingdoms could buy it and then only a few sets.”
“And,” Alonya adds, “that domains have gone to war to possess such armor.”
“All true,” Phigby acknowledges.
“Then,” Cara points out, “how are we to buy even one set? We haven’t a ducat among the lot of us.”
Amil leans toward Cara and motions toward Phigby’s bag. “Lass, do you not know why he keeps his haversack with him at all times? There’s a fortune in there, worth ten kings’ ransoms, at least. We’ll be able to buy as many sets of Meile armor as we need.”
Phigby snorts. “If you count a few cooking pots, some bottles of potion, and my change of underwear as worth ten kings, then yes, I am a wealthy man, indeed. And, oh that I had even more underwear so that I could be richer still!”
That brings a few small chuckles but not from me. I’m still focused on Phigby’s dire pronouncement and what it portends for the company. My eyes find Golden Wind but she’s resting with her head on her forelegs, eyes closed as if in sleep.
Would Vay actually kill Golden Wind? I shake my head to myself as that is something that I can’t believe. Vay intends to capture the golden, not kill her. Phigby is mistaken if he thinks that to be true.
Kill the members of the company, yes, but never Golden Wind.
Snag interrupts my unpleasant thoughts by saying, “I think that a better question would be not how we are to buy this armor, but rather why are we to seek these dwarves out? Is it just for this wondrous armor or is there more to this than we understand?”
“I think it must be something else,” Tavin muses, “for the ode did say that this Whisperer would help us find Vay’s portal.”
“Aye,” Amil agrees and turns to Phigby. “What or who is this Whisperer?”