by GARY DARBY
However, the length and urgency behind Phigby’s strides tell me that food is the last thing on his mind. Both Cara and I half jog behind him just to keep up.
When we reach the company, we find them munching on the last of the cheese and goat meat. Amil tosses a small hunk of cheese to each of us but instead of taking a bite out of his curd, Phigby says, “Thanks to Hooper and the Whisperer, I believe I not only know where the dwarves are held captive but possibly where Vay’s portal lies in secret.”
At that, everyone stops eating and turns an expectant face to Phigby. However, instead of answering directly, Phigby says to Amil, “Liam said that the dwarves were in the north, a place of fire and ice, right?’
“Right,” Amil agrees, “but that covers a lot of ground. We need more than that to even begin a search.”
“Indeed,” Phigby answers. “However, what if I told you that they’re being held under a mountain in the north, cone-shaped and covered in deep snow. The mountaintop spits smoke and fire. It sits within an enormous bowl, ringed by mountains that pierce the clouds and are snow-covered, too.
“Surrounding the central mountain on all sides are smaller, rounded mountains that do the same. It is a place of cinder and ash, and noxious vapors, a slice of Hades upon Erdron.”
He leans toward Amil, his eyes intense, and locks eyes with the big man. “A cone-shaped mountain of fire so far north that it is completely covered by snow to its base and ringed by a towering mountain range? There is only one peak like that in the whole world. You know as well as I that it can only be one place.”
Amil doesn’t turn his eyes away from Phigby, the two staring, neither blinking. After a moment, Amil’s eyes narrow, he lets out a long breath, and shifts weight from one foot to another but doesn’t answer Phigby. It’s evident by his scowl that he’s reluctant to respond.
Phigby presses Amil for an answer. “Well, Traveler? What do you say to that? You know the answer as well as I.”
Amil shakes his head slowly and crosses his arms as if pondering Phigby’s question. “Aye, it makes sense that she would take them there and place her portal under that mountain.”
Cara and I glance at each other. “It may make sense to you two,” Cara asserts, “but you’ve left the rest of us in the dark.”
Phigby motions to Amil to explain. “The outer range,” Amil begins, “of the high mountains are called the Mountains of Eternal Ice, while the smaller, inner range is called the Fjeller Loch Tienne, or the Mountains of Fiery Lakes.”
“Fire and ice,” Cara nods.
“Yes,” Amil replies, “and the big peak in the center is named the Staid Neamh.”
To our questioning gazes, Phigby answers, “It’s Old Tongue Gaelian and means roughly, the Staircase to Heaven. The lore surrounding the mountain is that at death, mortals would climb the mountain to the heavens, thus ending their existence on Erdron.”
“Where the dead climb to heaven . . .” Alonya murmurs and something in her voice makes me turn toward her. She’s peering downward, holding a bit of meat in one hand that droops toward the ground. I’ve never seen her face so sad, so troubled but before I can ask why, Tavin says to Phigby, “And that’s where you intend to take us?”
“We don’t have much choice,” Phigby replies. “And I agree with Amil, it makes perfect sense that Vay would not only hold the dwarves there, but she would have her portal deep under the mountain in a place where it would take a vast army to breach such a fortress and destroy her gateway.”
“But Phigby,” Amil moans, “you know what they say about that accursed place.”
“Uh oh,” Cara laments, “and here I thought that we had left behind Amil the Embellisher, but no, he’s back and about to spin us a tale.”
“Amil the Embellisher?” Talia questions.
“Oh yes,” Cara answers with a light laugh, “it’s a side of Amil that you’ve not seen yet but believe me, you won’t forget.”
“Aye, you ladies make fun of me all you want,” Amil grumbles, “but have I ever steered you wrong? Even once?”
As I chew slowly on my small piece of cheese, I exchange glances with Cara and Tavin before I splutter, “Um . . . not exactly . . .”
“That’s right,” Amil replies, “and I’m telling you now that if Phigby means to lead us to those infernal mountains, then I, for one, am going to make sure my ax is doubly sharp and never leaves my side. And I would suggest the same for you.”
“Doubly sharp?” Snag mutters. “I’m not sure how to get a blade doubly sharp.”
“Then you best learn quick,” Amil returns with a wag of his finger, “because doubly sharp means this is beyond serious.”
“Don’t let it worry you, Snag,” Cara responds and turns to Amil. “We don’t carry axes, or hadn’t you noticed?”
“Well . . .” Amil grumps, “you know what I mean. Blades so sharp you could split a hair with them, and your quiver full of arrows. Make that two quivers—no, three, at least.”
“All right, Amil,” Tavin sighs, “let’s have it. Other than Vay, what is it about these mountains that would have us trembling in our boots?”
“For starters,” Amil answers, “if you thought the Denalians were high, just wait till you see these mountaintops. Why, they’re so tall that the moons don’t sail over them, they pass between these peaks. They’re so high that it takes three days for the sun to climb high enough to shine inside the bowl.
“The ice and snow are so thick on top that sometimes the mountains bow under the weight until they look like they’re about to tip entirely over and spill their snow and ice on any hapless village below, or luckless traveler for that matter—like us.
“The mountain winds are so cold that they freeze your words midair and you have to reach up and break them apart just to hear what you said.
“But that’s just the ring mountains. Past them are flaming lakes, streams, and ponds and deep within them fire demons live, along with fire imps. Pass by and they leap out of the water and scald you alive on the spot. But they’re not the worst.
“It’s said that under the big mountain, there’s a vast lake of fire and in it lives the Fire King. He’s a giant monster who can suck up the lake’s brimstone and then spew it out in a blast of fire greater than ten thousand dragons.
“From his claws he can throw huge balls of flaming rock a full ten leagues or more. His tail is a flaming whip that when it cracks it sends out hot, searing lava. His eyes—”
“Can shoot flaming tears?” Cara teases.
Before Amil can retort, Phigby says, “Actually, Amil is not so far off this time in at least one aspect.”
“I’m not?” Amil sputters.
“No,” Phigby replies with a long sigh. “Vay has unleashed the Fire Elementis. A being who can control fire to the extent that he can create others of his kind.”
“Like the Blackguards and Fire Hounds,” Snag states.
“Yes,” Phigby agrees, “among others. But the question is whether it’s just he who guards the dwarves and Vay’s portal, or did the gods allow the Fire Elementis to bring other like creations through the portal with him. If they did . . .” his voice trails off, but it doesn’t take a lot of imagination to fill in what he’s not saying.
To rescue the dwarves and destroy Vay’s portal we would have to fight and perhaps kill a creature of fire who commands an army of similar creatures.
Amil stares at his piece of meat for a moment before muttering, “Professor, you have a knack for ruining a perfectly good meal.”
Pim breaks off a small piece of cheese, holds it up as if to study it for a moment. “When one truly hungers, even such news cannot quell the body’s need for nourishment. Perhaps you are just not hungry enough, Amil.”
“Yes, Amil,” Snag adds, “perhaps what you need is the savory sauce of starvation so that you can forget Phigby’s pronouncement and enjoy what we have in front of us.”
Amil tears away a piece of the meat with his back teeth, chews on it for a
moment before shaking his head. “No, I’ve had my fill of starvation. I’ll just ignore Phigby from here on and only listen when my belly is full.”
Pip struts up to Amil and puffs up his chest. “You not worry ‘bout Ol’ Fire Meeneey, we take care of him for sure. No one make better fire than us from Fire Clan.”
“You betcha!” Kyr joins in. “Him take one look at our fire and scurry back where he come from.”
“For sure!” Sim adds and then turns to Kyr. “Where big meeneey come from anyway?”
“From other place,” Kyr retorts, “where he live, of course.”
“He live other place?” Sim questions scratching at his head. “I thought we live other place.”
“No, dimwit,” Kyr snaps, “we live in fairyland. Him live in other-other place.”
“Are you sure we don’t—”
“Of course, I’m sure!” Kyr barks and before Alonya can separate them, the three pixies are rolling on the ground swatting at each other. She reaches down, pulls them apart, brushes them off and hands them each a small hunk of cheese.
As they plop back on the ground and start munching on the goat curd, Alonya shakes her head, sighing, “Where they find so much energy to fight each other I’ll never know.”
“They do sleep a lot,” Tavin notes.
“Must be storing up all that pent-up energy,” Phigby observes, “and it has to be unleashed somehow.”
“Uh huh,” Amil snarls, “well I just wish they’d unleash it on Vay or her cronies instead of each other. Would do us a lot more good.”
“Phigby,” Cara asks, “do you think that Vay knows that we’ve located her portal?”
Phigby motions upward. “Do you see the sky full of Wilders? Nahls? Or any other of her nefarious creations?”
“No.”
“Then you have your answer,” Phigby replies, “but I do fear that by now she knows we’re in these lands and that presents us with a bit of a problem.”
“How would she know that?” Pim asks.
“The Blackguards we fought,” Snag answers. “It’s possible they had a way to get a message to her.”
“Yes,” Phigby nods, “and by the same token with the Wilders we battled and especially Talonda Kur. It won’t be long before she knows that we’ve been in the Whisperer’s valley.”
He draws himself up, strokes his chin. “And because of that, it seems to me that we have a bit of a dilemma on our hands and only a few options to address the situation.”
“There’s only one option, Phigby,” Marce asserts, “and only one course. We stay. If Vay knows we’re here, she’ll attack again and we’re all that stands between her and a massacre of everyone in this valley.”
“Yes,” Phigby accedes, “that is one possibility, but it may not be the best course to protect this valley from her wrath.”
“How could it not—” Marce begins before Phigby holds up a hand to stop her. “Please hear me out and perhaps it will be clearer to you.”
Marce sets her face in a stubborn expression, folds her arms across her chest, but keeps quiet. “Thank you,” Phigby nods to Marce and goes on. “We could form several scouting parties and search the land hereabouts, find out what we’re up against and use the valley as our center-point as the Uhlan call it.”
“Eyes and ears further out,” Amil nods, “I like it. See them long before they see us, give us time to prepare or better yet, hit’em first and hard.”
“I’m certain that the Uhlan would help with that,” Marce replies eagerly.
“Yes,” Tavin notes, “I can see where it would help the Uhlan, but doesn’t it keep us from our main goal—to find Vay’s portal?”
“Or at the very least,” Alonya replies, “it would slow us down considerably. If we become entangled here, how long before we can head north? Do we have that luxury of time? I’m not certain we do. You said that Vay brought this Fire Elementis through her gate—what else is she about to hurl at Erdron? Something even worse?”
“I agree,” Phigby responds, “that time is not on our side. Nevertheless, it is a possibility that we must consider and shouldn’t discount right away.”
He strokes his beard while explaining, “Another choice would be for us to sky east or south in broad daylight and along the way pass directly over each village or town that we find.”
“What?” Amil sputters. “What for?”
“Simply,” Phigby replies, “to let ourselves be seen.”
“Let ourselves be seen,” Amil snorts. “Since when has that been hard for this company to do?”
“How about nigh unto never,” Cara quips.
“And the purpose behind us being seen?” Snag asks.
“To catch Vay’s attention,” Helmar answers softly.
“Exactly,” Phigby replies and motions outward toward the cliffside. “The idea would be that the company would sky out well before dawn, wing swiftly inland, and as I said, sky over several villages.”
He glances upward. “No doubt with Vay’s spies lurking about, she’ll know soon enough of our whereabouts. After that,” he shrugs, “we’ll—”
“Find ourselves being chased from one end of this land to the other,” Amil scowls. “Nothing new there, professor. And here I thought you were going to come up with something different for a change.”
“And as I was about to say,” Phigby grumps, “the company would lead her minions a merry chase farther eastward before we slip away and head north.”
“Slip away?!” Alonya scoffs and hooks a thumb toward Regal Wind. “My big boy makes that a rather challenging proposition, don’t you think, Phigby?”
“On the contrary,” Phigby answers, “I’m counting on Regal Wind and Golden Wind being seen and so often that Vay will have no doubt that it’s the company. But we must hide our true intentions, not give her the slightest idea that we know where her portal lies.”
“Phigby,” I say slowly, “I’m not sure I understand. You’re saying that you want Vay to know where we are—”
“As long as it’s not here,” Cara points out to me.
“As long as it’s not here,” I repeat, “and I get that part, but aren’t we just inviting trouble if Vay knows exactly where we are?”
“She could send everything she has against us,” Tavin agrees.
“True,” Snag replies, “but if she sends everything she has at where we were, not where we are—”
“It would leave her guessing,” Tavin nods thoughtfully.
“Get her nice and frustrated when she can’t find us,” Snag grins.
“Perhaps even make her vulnerable,” Talia asserts, “ripe for an attack.”
“I like the sound of that,” Amil rumbles.
Pim speaks up, her voice heavy and mournful. “With my lance dead, we’re much weaker than before. We must take that in consideration.”
“I appreciate your concern, Pim,” Phigby replies, “and we will hope and pray that your lance regains its power. However, for this to work we will depend on speed and surprise to be our allies.”
He shrugs and allows, “As far as her armies are concerned, it is my intention to take us where her armies are not.”
“Can you guarantee that, Phigby?” Cara questions.
Phigby presses his lips together, pinches them between thumb and forefinger. “Guarantee? My dear, I can’t even promise that the sun will rise tomorrow. But once we turn north, we’ll make every effort to stay hidden.”
He shrugs a shoulder. “That’s as much of a guarantee as I can give.”
“That’s not much of an assurance, professor,” Amil rumbles.
“The only good I see in your plan, Phigby,” Alonya notes brusquely, “is that we leave this valley and soon, for I agree that with that cur of a Wilder escaping, she’ll know soon enough where to find us.”
“Yes,” Phigby nods, “and that’s why we need to let our presence be known elsewhere, draw her attention away from here.”
“And hope that she forgets about this plac
e,” Marce murmurs.
“Indeed,” Phigby nods.
“But,” Marce replies, “this idea of yours would leave the Uhlan defenseless. They have no Vinderfangen, no way of knowing—”
“They would just have to do it the old-fashioned way,” Amil declares. “Send scouts out, place observation posts on the higher hills around here, set up some sort of signaling system. Use those lurking traits that you’re so good at to keep from being seen.”
“But they’re so few,” Marce protests.
“And we’re so many?” Amil grunts.
“At least we have dragons!” Marce barks.
Before Amil can respond to Marce, Phigby says, “I have one other idea in mind, more dangerous perhaps, but it may be the most effective to both protect this valley and divert Vay’s attention elsewhere.”
“Wonderful,” Amil grumps under his breath, “I can’t wait to hear this.”
Ignoring Amil, Cara urges, “Go on, Phigby, we’re listening.”
“When the King and Queen stars reach their zenith tonight,” Phigby answers, “the company wings swiftly eastward. Before first light, you find a good place to hunker down and hide for the day.”
“Sounds good so far,” Amil declares, “as I didn’t hear anything dangerous in that.”
Phigby ignores Amil, continues. “The second night, you turn north and find the fiery mountain.”
“Hold on,” Tavin objects, his eyes narrowed in suspicion, “I keep hearing you instead of we. What gives, Phigby? Where will you be while we’re doing all this skying?”
“Um, well,” Phigby mumbles as he works his mouth. “Let’s just say, I’ll keep Vay’s attention away from you. But I do expect a rescue at the appropriate time.”
There’s complete silence for an instant before several of the company are on their feet all speaking at practically the same time. “You intend to let yourself be captured?!” Amil sputters. “That’s nuttier than a squirrel’s winter hoard!”
“Phigby,” Cara sputters, “I’ve never known you to be so foolish.”
“It’s more than foolish,” Tavin adds, “it’s absurd as well as unacceptable.”
“For once, I agree with Amil,” Alonya retorts, “that’s crazy.”