by H. A. Harvey
“Wait,” Nian interrupted, realizing he was getting side-tracked but not really caring, “If steel can’t even touch them, how do you know they bleed?”
The Njord sat up stiffly, unbuckled her breastplate and removed her right gauntlet. She untethered the leather straps of a seam in the scales over her chest. Reaching in, Kaesa produced a small leather purse suspended upon a strap around her neck. Holding out her other hand, Kaesa emptied a small collection of coins, melted drops of metal, and three arrowheads pressed into soft wood. Nian shifted closer to look. The objects were all of the same strange metal whose hue was hard to establish in the blue light of the relic blade. Stranger still, as Nian held the sword closer to examine them, the bits of metal seemed to do more than just reflect the blade’s light, but to catch and drink it, taking on the same uncanny appearance as the sword itself. As an experiment, Nian sheathed the sword, dousing its light. Yet, the bits of metal glowed on brightly for several breaths before slowly dimming. Nian drew the sword again for light.
“Dese arrowheads were my fadder’s. Dey are mydril, de metal skalds call water of de sea forged into steel. In trud, it is refined from dragon-stone by Dwarves und odders who delve deep enough to find it. Dese pieces I hav collected my whole life. Enough to make a dagger or heavy spear head now, but I hope one day to make un axe.”
Xain stepped back into the ring of light. The conversation seemed to have turned toward things that interested him more than the cavern.
“Mythril?” The Dwarf echoed, leaning in to eye Kaesa’s small horde. “By Thunder! What is steel-smith doing with such wealth?”
Rowan craned his neck to see as best he could without shifting Tombo, who seemed to have fallen asleep. “Wealth? A few bits of metal. Why wouldn’t a smith have at least a little lying around?”
Xain coughed and sputtered, “Lying around! Any one of these pieces is worth more than her armor. Together, chest of gold could not buy so much, and such things are not often sold . . . more often stolen.”
“One time, Dwarf. Anodder und we will not bod walk away.” Kaesa glared at Xain as she slid the mythril collection back into her pouch and replaced it. “Dief and liar are two dings you do not call a Njord widout blood. Ye forget who my fadder be. Few mortal hands know arms und armur like Ironbenders, und my fadder taught me well. Many a Yarl would trade his most precious treasures for a blade wid de mark of Wulfbreaker.”
“Wolfbreaker,” Nian repeated, “That your father’s title?”
“Mine.” Kaesa held up the hem of her fur cloak, “Dis beast, surprised me on my first hunt. Held his jaws off wid my arms und cracked his ribs und back wid my legs.”
Nian eyed the cowl incredulously. Kaesa’s frame was only a little smaller than his own, larger counting her armor, and her hooded cloak was more than capable of fully encircling her, armor and all. Rowan had brought in enough wolf-hides for him to have a decent idea of what size wolves came in. The largest hide he’d ever seen could barely make a shirt on its own and had to make use of the limb strips and all. The Njord’s cloak looked to have been cut entirely from the body and neck of the beast. The wolf had to have been close to Tombo in size.
“Back to task,” Kaesa continued, “Mydril is how I know dey bleed. It is coveted for many reasons, but in Nilheim, de most important is dat it does not become brittle no matter how cold it becomes, and an edge from dis metal can pierce drake scale.”
“Speaking of back to task,” Rowan jumped in, “I’m still calling it a dragon. When it attacked, Tombo ran off. David, Riona and I followed him to this . . . well we thought it was just an ancient grove of ash, but it turned out to be more, a lot more.”
Rowan went on to recount their trip into the grove of the fairy queen. For the first time, Autumn even seemed to show interest in their conversation. Oddly enough, the group had fallen back into silence when Shirts returned. They sat trying to think of any sort of plan or scheme to help Riona when the chubby little brogan returned without his escort, but with a new companion that could only be the one Riona had dubbed Wobbly.
Nian stood awkwardly, feeling he should somehow show respect for their odd little seer. Wobbly staggered up to Nian, and the boy braced for the unsettling greeting Rowan had described. The brogan stopped about an arm’s length away. Wobbly drew a pinch of herbs from his gourd and chewed thoughtfully, but didn’t approach any closer. After a moment, he gestured to Nian, then Rowan, and repeated Shirts’ beckoning gesture from earlier, then turned and trudged down the ramp, all stagger and sway gone from his countenance.
“I think he wants us to go with him, Ro.” Nian said softly. “Just us.”
“What about Tombo? There’s no way he’ll wait down here without me.” Rowan objected, “And we can’t just take the only source of light.”
“From what you say about how they treat Tombo, I don’t think they’d presume to tell him where he can and can’t go.” Autumn answered, “Take the light, the others can see well enough without it, and I don’t feel like moving.”
Rowan shrugged and gently nudged Tombo awake before standing. Tombo blinked groggily a moment, then moaned plaintively and grabbed Rowan about the shoulders. Nian took a moment to enjoy a laugh before going to help his friend calm the hampan. Then the three of them started down the ramp together. Apparently, Wobbly had no intention of waiting and they had to move quickly to catch up to the shaggy creature.
The ramp trailed down at a shallow grade along the cavern wall, crawling forward a hundred yards or more as it lowered the thirty feet to the cavern floor. There were other brogan lingering about in the cavern. Most were asleep. Others were eating or fighting, and Nian was rather disturbed to find that some seemed to be mating. They all seemed to ignore the passage of their seer and his strange escorts, as Wobbly lead them across the chamber. The four of them came to an underground stream that flowed steadily down the length of the cavern. Wobbly turned and followed the water. He’d pause periodically to refresh his mouthful of herbs, but kept walking without looking back. Nian started to wonder if the brogan had forgotten them or perhaps he’d misinterpreted the creature’s gestures.
Rather suddenly, they came to the end of the long cavern and Nian gave such a start that he fell backwards and let his blade fall, dowsing them all in darkness. Nian wasn’t sure he wanted to recover the sword, but Tombo’s sudden desperate bleating pressed him into action. He scrambled to his hands and knees and felt forward until his fingers fell across the cool, dimpled steel of the relic blade. The blade obligingly ignited into its watery glow. The swimming blue light leapt up the cavern wall where the stream ran steadily into the mouth of a colossal skull. The thing’s maw seemed to occupy almost the entirety of its head. Each tooth of the creature was as wide at its base as Nian’s thigh, and most varied in length from waist height to the largest fangs at the point of the sharp jaw which stood as tall as Nian himself. Its massive upper and split lower jaws each carried three ranks of the wicked implements, arching back into the beast’s maw and beckoning prey into the tunnel that must have once been the beast’s throat. In all, the thing might have easily swallowed the lot of them, including Tombo, without noticing.
“What is that?” Nian murmured mostly to himself, but hoping Rowan would know something as well.
“Something I’m glad isn’t still hungry.” Rowan answered, clearly in awe himself. “Other than that, it’s got to be some beast of the deeps. The skull wouldn’t fit through even their big entrance at the thicket.”
Wobbly stood inside the creature’s jaws, just to the side of the stream. He gave a bark and beckoned them to come before turning and waddling onward. Nian and Rowan traded glances and then followed. Inside, the tunnel descended sharply and the air grew colder. Nian had to brace against the side of the tunnel to keep from slipping, especially as the rocks started to become coated in thin sheets of ice. He was so focused upon his feet that it wasn’t until Rowan nudged his shoulder and poi
nted up that Nian noticed the spine. Here and there along the roof, the earth faded back to reveal bleached vertebrae tracing down the center of the ceiling. Along the walls, he occasionally made out the ivory curve of a rib. The tunnel seemed to have formed around the monolithic serpent’s body, or perhaps been excavated by the brogan.
The tunnel continued on for a hundred paces, or as close as Nian could gauge as he slid about on the thickening ice. There, a doorway was finally cut into the side of the ominous passage. Wobbly turned and walked into the opening, but Nian found himself pausing when he reached the turn. Just beyond the doorway, the tunnel turned as well. It plummeted straight down into utter blackness below. What flowing water was left of the stream leapt out over the black abyss into a tinkling cascade. A chill wind rose out of the strange, unnatural well turning the drops of the spray into ice crystals that chimed back and forth down the pit until the glistening specs dropped beyond the reach of Nian’s light. Nian gasped as his forward foot slid out from beneath him and only Rowan’s quick reflexes kept him from tumbling headlong down the icy hole. He nervously nodded to Rowan in thanks before turning to follow the seer.
The chamber off the tunnel was larger than Nian expected, though space became a little limited once Tombo managed to lumber in. A chaotic collection of scratches adorned the otherwise smooth wall of the almost perfectly round room. Nian walked along the wall, examining the scratches. Some ran in straight parallel lines, like one of the brogan had become angry with the overly smooth stone and slashed it. Other scratches were made by only one or two claws at a time and seemed to intentionally intersect each other.
“Is it some kind of writing?” Rowan asked, “They don’t even speak, what would they write about?”
“It’s not writing really, at least I don’t think so.” Nian answered, his eyes unable to tear away from the markings. “But it is a story . . . or like hundreds of ‘em. They’re all jumbled though. They don’t run in lines, and some of it might be out of order, or maybe just crossing each other.”
“I’d guess they were made by Wobbly and others like him. If they draw what they see, nothing’s liable to make any sense.”
Nian eyed the jumbled markings and struggled to make sense of any of it. Suddenly, a thought occurred to him. Nian walked over to Rowan and held the sword aloft to look closely at his chest. Rowan shifted uncomfortably.
“What?”
“Well, Wobs over there drew this on you, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Then it might be a picture I can find in the tangle here,” Nian replied as he turned back and walked along the wall, “and maybe make a little bit of sense. Ok, here’s one that’s almost the same. A line with two smaller angled ones, but the angled lines reach up to touch the big one, not down. This one’s old, nearly worn away.”
“Here’s the same one,” Rowan called from further down the wall, “And nearby there’s one like mine, with lines down. They’re less faded than the first one, and about as old as each other. Maybe part of the same drawing?”
Nian rushed over to join his friend. He was right. About an arm span from each other were two of the same image, the second inverted like Rowan’s. They’d been easy to miss because another set of newer marks crossed over them. Nian blinked as looking at the layered marks gave him an idea. He scoured the region between the two marks for anything else of the same depth.
“Alright, I think I’m getting somewhere. These circles are brogan, I think. Alone they’re one brogan, maybe specific, or maybe not. The clusters of three circles I think mean all of them, like as a people. I think boxes are outsiders, again a cluster means a group. So I think these lines with one coming down off the top are trees. This cluster of trees might be the grove, with the lines coming off it.”
“Lights.” Rowan nodded, “The lines are light coming from the grove.”
“Right,” Nian agreed, “And the mark like yours with the climbing lines isn’t as unique as we thought, just it’s usually smaller, so they’ve mostly worn away. And this big circle I think is Tombo . . .aside from having a bit more of a blunt face, he does kinda look like a giant brogan.”
Nian stepped back a little. Now that he knew which marks he was paying attention to, it wasn’t too hard to keep track of just them. He tried to sort through the images, keeping in mind that they were hardly in any order in particular.
“What looks like wings?” Rowan interrupted and Nian realized he’d been thinking out loud.
“I don’t think Tombo’s a diety, Ro. More like a champion. I think they believe he brought us here to kill a dragon.”
. . .
“What do you mean she’s gone?” Rowan shouted, “You were supposed to watch her!”
“We were talking, like an hour after you left.” David tried to explain. “She was sitting on that root right there, and I was in the grass here, just outside the line. This light, like a firefly but brighter, floated out of the grove. Riona started staring at it and held out her hand. The light landed on her fingers and they were just gone. If I’d seen her go off in a direction, I’d have tried to go after her. But she was here one moment, then nothing. I’m not a wizard! What was I supposed to do?”
Silence reigned for an endless moment. Nian glared into the grove in frustration. After their trip to the brogan story cavern, Shirts had led them to the main exit of the brogan caverns. The entire trip had been spent in the effort of devising a method to retrieve Riona from the clutches of the fairies, but they’d come up with nothing better than trying to lasso and haul her out of the ring. They’d arrived in the aspen stand late in the evening but pressed forward to the grove in the hope of putting their plan into action. Now, it seemed they’d pressed on for nothing. Nian could see the exhaustion and frustration in the faces of his friends. They looked like he felt, only he wasn’t sure anyone but him was keeping count of good people falling in his wake.
“Get some rest,” Nian ordered, a little surprised at his own tone. “If things avoid the grove, then we should be safe here. We’ll figure out what to do next once we’ve had a chance to recover.”
Nian saw a moment of feigned resistance. Perhaps it was not feigned, but simply so thin that it offered no tangible opposition. Kaesa sank down by a stone, slid her helm off and set it to one side, then folded her cloak into a pad and laid back. Rowan, David, and Xain all nestled down in the shade of a nearby elm. Only Autumn still stood staring into the grove. Nian walked over to stand next to her, sidestepping slightly when she turned toward him.
“I’m not going to touch you.” Nian assured her quickly, “I just had a question.”
Autumn looked at him with the same empty expression she’d worn for going on two days. Finally, her lips parted, “Be careful with your question.”
“When Rowan mentioned the fairy grove, it brought you partway back from wherever it is you seem to have vanished to,” Nian began softly, “Since we got here, your eyes haven’t left it.”
“That’s not a question.” Autumn returned flatly, “And I’m looking at you now.”
Nian couldn’t help a quick chuckle, “Only to see if I’m going to give you a second chance to break my arm.”
“I’m not sorry about that.”
“Nobody asked you to be. I just can’t help but think you know something more about this grove than the rest of us. I guess my question is what do you know?”
Autumn stared at him for several breaths, then turned back to watch the grove. “Nothing important, but it’s not a fairy grove. There’s no such thing. I remember from my childhood, fairy folk don’t change their homes. They pick someplace beautiful and secluded to establish their courts, but they don’t build them. This place was grown by Dryads, maybe with help from some of your friend’s folk.”
“So, this is like where you grew up?” Nian looked at the shadowy grove with newfound admiration, “Perhaps we can find the locals to help.”
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“No,” Autumn whispered, almost reverently, “My home was nothing like this. I suppose the human twin would be a small village. This . . . this is like a grand, ancient city, or the ruins of one. Whoever made this place, they’ve been gone a long time. I don’t think there are any locals besides the brogan. Like I said, I don’t know anything important.”
Nian stood quietly and stared at the grove. He tried to imagine the place in the height of its glory. He could almost see the forest folk moving through the trees and among the boughs. The vision was enthralling. Nian’s thoughts drifted to his own home and he smiled.
“What?”
“I was just thinking of home. Longmyst gets its name from the falls right beside it. The icy water from Frosthold warms when it hits the Tyrian air, and we always have these deep clouds of mist from just after dusk to noon for most of the year. At the top of the falls is this old oak, nobody knows how long it has stood there, but there’s a 400 year old painting of it in the capitol, and I hear it looks the same as today. I used to climb the cliffs by the falls and just sit by that oak while I watched the town below. Anyway, you should get some rest too.”
Autumn shook her head, “I do not feel like sleeping. Besides, you are wounded. You rest, I will take watch.”
Nian sighed, then unbuckled his sword belt and held it out to her. Autumn’s hand shot up with lightning speed to grip his wrist. “Easy, I’m not going to sleep. I was waiting for Rowan at least to nod off before I go in to talk to the queen. I wouldn’t be able to convince him not to come with me. But I don’t think I should carry this in there. Since you were there when Mitchell died and he trusted you, I figure that it won’t mind being in your care for a while.”
“It won’t work for me. He passed it to you.”
“Then don’t use it in a fight, stick to Thea’s fighting daggers.” Nian replied, “I figure the sword will understand, if not, we’ll work it out later.”