“It is Saxthor, whose ring tis clear
Controls vast powers far and near,
Who upon the waters of Lake Pundar
Will burn the wraith come from afar.
Fleeing south down veins of water,
He comes to the long-sought border.
Defying flames from the dragon’s mouth,
He completes his trek back to the South.
The Prince of Hoya rules north to south.
Wisdom pours from out his mouth.
And to the throne brings rocks and rope,
To form the crown their only hope.
Rule well and wisely, then long the lull.
The kingdom grows to empire full,
But all spend strength in time you see,
And empires fall, then memories be.”
The oracle settled back into the pool’s water as the mist dissipated in the cave. The old hag just kept smiling, as she led Saxthor from the cave.
The babbling makes little sense to me, thought Saxthor.
They walked back to her cottage in silence, but this time she went to the back door.
“Thank you for your help.” Saxthor started to untie his coin pouch to give her compensation.
She put her hand on his – not using the cane this time, he noted – to stop his untying the money pouch. He looked up, and she bowed deep. The smiling never lessened. She took his hand and led him into the cottage.
The room was neat and clean, with a large fireplace dominating it. On the back wall, facing the cave, there was a small window, and beside that, in the corner, was a large wooden cabinet.
Still holding his hand, she reached into the cupboard and took out a small terracotta pot topped with a tight stopper, sealed with grease. Finally, releasing his hand, she meticulously wrapped the pot in a leather sack and tied it tight with a cord. She turned and took Saxthor’s hand again, turned up his palm, and placed the pouch in his hand, closing his fingers around it. Saxthor looked up at her; for the first time, she wasn’t smiling. She had a very stern stare.
“Keep this dry, Prince Saxthor Claremendak. Do not allow it to get wet. Dust to dust, evil to evil, dust to evil ashes,” she said, then followed that with some lines he couldn’t understand. At last, she looked up, smiling again.
“What’s this for?”
“You’ll know when the time comes,” she said, with a twinkle in her eye.
He thanked the seer, and she took him out through the front door. Bodrin looked relieved to see Saxthor again, and together they went back to their companions on the wharf, standing ready and impatient to leave.
The three men, one woman, a dog, and an old wren piled into a boat bought from the same man that ferried them across the Pundar on their way upriver months before. They rowed south on the river and moved with the current out onto Lake Pundar, where they raised the sail. The adventurers made good time, sailing south with the lake breeze.
On their second night on the lake, they approached what appeared to be a small island that shouldn’t have been there. To save time, they had sailed out onto the open lake rather than take the longer, safer route along the shoreline. Curious about the small island not marked on the map, they sailed the small boat closer.
“Maybe we should avoid it,” Tournak said.
“What trouble can that tiny island hide?” Bodrin asked.
As they sailed closer, Tonelia became suspicious. “Have we been bobbing around on this lake too long, or is that island bobbing with the ripples on the water, too?”
The ‘island’ uncurled and lifted its foul head well above the water. The Dark Lord’s third master-wraith had expanded its vaporous form in hopes of luring the prince when he sailed down the lake. The water droplets adhering to the form enhanced its brilliance in the moonlight as it rose above the ripples. With the first hint of sulfur, everyone recognized the creature for a wraith. They jumped up to leap overboard, knowing the wraith would materialize from the vapor to shoot wizard-fire, incinerating the boat.
“There’s no escaping that thing,” Tonelia said. Her teeth were chattering.
Tournak hurled a fire-bolt at the monster, but it dodged it and continued to transform to mass. “Save yourselves!”
Saxthor whirled around looking, but there was nowhere in the boat to escape to or to hide from a wraith. He had nothing to fight such a heinous monster with except Sorblade, and that might not kill a vaporous wraith. In a flash, he remembered. The oracle said I’d burn a wraith, but I have no way of burning it, he thought. There’s no way or time to start a fire, and normal fire won’t harm a wraith, anyway. He heard a splash behind him. He turned and saw Delia in the water with Bodrin.
“Come on, Tonelia, jump,” Bodrin yelled.
Saxthor turned back to face the menacing, serpentine wraith swaying in front of him. The thing’s head was twice his height and loomed almost over him at the boat’s bow. The stench of sulfur burned his nostrils. He suppressed his urge to jump overboard and concentrated on a solution.
“Jump Tournak.”
The only unknown I have is the small pot in the leather bag the old woman gave me, Saxthor thought. She said not to get it wet. We’re out on the water. If getting it wet creates a problem, let it be for the wraith.
He glanced at the approaching monster. Its vaporous form was shrinking into material mass to shoot wizard-fire. He felt the wraith’s heat, smelled decay, and heard water droplets splashing as the boat drifted toward the monster. No time, No time, he thought. Saxthor fumbled with the cord tying the pouch, finally tearing it free as Tournak’s wizard-fire shot by his arm, searing the hair. He tore open the leather bag, jerking the pot out, as he heard a splash in the lake when Tonelia jumped.
“Jump!” Bodrin said, from the darkness beyond.
Saxthor’s head jerked up to see the wraith’s reptilian eyes formed yellow above the vicious, snarling mouth. He looked down at the pot in his hand. Holding the slippery vessel as best he could in shaky hands, he pulled out the stopper.
“Jump, Saxthor!” Tonelia screamed.
Saxthor heard but ignored the plea, thinking the wraith still semi vaporous, but partially formed. It will be on me any second. Tournak still stood behind him.
“Jump, Tournak,” Saxthor said, but Tournak stood firm, as Saxthor fumbled with the slippery pot, turning back to the wraith.
The foul creature closed in on the boat, shifting its mist side to side. Its head, supported by its coiled body, leered down at Saxthor. Saxthor smelled sulfur and saw an eerie beauty in light refracted through the water droplets covering its transforming being, floating on the lake.
Any second now, I’ll be ash. What do I have to lose? He flung the powder into the wraith’s dripping form. The phosphorous powder combined with the water droplets. The wraith exploded in one violent flash. The intense heat and brilliant light startled Saxthor and Tournak. They fell back, jarring the boat. The reaction knocked the oars overboard and snapped the mast that fell on the steering oar, breaking off the handle.
“What was that?” Tournak asked, from the bottom of the boat.
“You mean, you don’t know?”
“Some magic I don’t know about,” Tournak said, his lips pursed. He stood up and gave Saxthor a hand. “That was something I’ve never seen before.”
“The oracle’s prediction of burning the wraith turned out to be true,” Saxthor said.
“What was that?”
“Never mind.”
Bodrin, Tonelia, and Delia swam back to the boat without noticing the oars, floating off in the dark. All night, the boat floated along in the gloom without oars. Bodrin, Tonelia, and Delia shivered but finally dried out. By morning, they found themselves washed up on the lake’s reed beds.
*
“Wonder where we are?” Tonelia asked.
“Still in Sengenwha, I suspect. Be quiet; I think I hear armor beyond the reeds,” Tournak said. “That would be orcs. No place to hide, I hope we’ll drift back out on the lake.”
“We survived a wraith attack and only to be undone by wind and current,” Tonelia said. “It’s not fair.”
“What does fair have to do with it?” Bodrin asked.
“With luck, we would’ve made it to Favriana Fortress,” Tournak said.
Tonelia poked Bodrin with her free toe. “No luck, no fair, this is depressing.”
The captives lying on the hut’s musty dirt floor heard the excited orcs chattering.
“I hears a giant dragon named Magnosious be working his way south,” an orc said. “He’ll soon eat up the king’s enemies. I bets he flames Sengenwhapolis.”
“I heard he be looking for something else, nobody knows what,” another orc said.
“We have to escape, and fast if we’re to get back to Konnotan before the dragon finds us,” Saxthor said.
“Without Memlatec’s help, we won’t survive a dragon’s attack,” Tournak said. “We’re trussed up like sheep for the slaughter.”
“How’re we going to escape?” Bodrin asked.
“You men, you’re so helpless,” Tonelia said. She saw Bodrin’s eyes roll. Winking when he said nothing, she wiggled closer to the opening. In a loud voice, Tonelia complained. “I’m so hungry. They need to feed us. You out there, you have to feed us.”
“What are you doing?” Bodrin asked. “You think they care if we’re hungry?”
Tonelia shrugged him off and again yelled bitterly at the opening. “It’ll be the worse for you if your leader finds us starved to death.”
She continued shouting until they brought some orc slop to shut her up. The orcs untied Tonelia and gave her a nasty wooden bowl with something gray-green in it that she couldn’t identify. Disgusted, she curled her lips and promptly tossed the bowl out the opening. Again, she complained.
“They’re going to slit your throat to shut you up,” Bodrin said.
Tonelia continued unfazed. A heavily muscled orc came to the hut, whereupon she made the orcs an offer.
“Tell you what I’m going to do. If you’ll let me fix something I can eat, I’ll make enough for us all.”
The dimwitted orcs couldn’t pass up the prospect of better food. They brought her some old meat and roots, a pot and some water, and untied her hands to cook it.
Tonelia brandished dried fruits from their supplies to convince the orcs of her good intentions. “I’ll need something to season this with,” she said to her guard after the stew began to simmer. The puzzled orcs looked at each other. “I must be allowed to pick a few herbs for a delicious stew. Two of your strongest orcs can accompany me to that field if it makes you feel safer. I’m just a girl; what can I do? Besides, you know I won’t leave my companions.”
“Tonelia’s just the sort to go on until she wears down her opponent,” Bodrin muttered, watching from the opening. “She’ll badger and plead until their leader gives in. Even a primitive orc has limited patience.”
“Hush,” Tonelia said, glancing back at her nodding companions.
The orcs muttered among themselves. “Go with her to get them weeds,” the lead orc said. “She don’t shut up. I gotta give in or kill her.”
She and her guard went into a nearby pasture, where Tonelia picked herbs left by the grazers. Quiet and contented, she returned to the fire, where she chopped up the herbs and tossed them into the pot. Soon the stew was done, and Tonelia returned in the hut.
She whispered to her companions. “Do not eat the stew I’ll bring you, understand?”
She looked at each of her friends. They looked to each other, then back at her, each nodding in turn. She left with no explanation. Back by the fire, Tonelia sat, pretending to eat her stew. She licked her lips, relishing it. Then she took bowls back to the hut for her companions, where out of orc sight, she buried the stew in the dirt floor. Tonelia returned to the fire with the empty bowls.
“Those gluttons, they were starved too. You boys bring your bowls and get some stew, as promised.”
Tonelia ladled the remaining stew, being careful each orc got enough. After that, her guard returned Tonelia to the hut and again tied her up with the others. She wiggled her way near the opening and watched the feast.
The orcs gobbled up the concoction, smacking their lips almost to a chorus. “This is good stuff,” an orc said, slobbering food from his full mouth.
Another nodding orc said, “This stuff is the best we’ve eat since sacking that village on the way south.”
Tonelia chuckled and saw it didn’t escape her puzzled companions.
“What're you chuckling about now?” Bodrin asked, over his growling stomach.
“Why’re you laughing? I don’t understand you. You cook us a last meal, then won’t let us eat it.” Bodrin rolled over and sulked.
Tonelia grinned at him and turned back to watch the orcs. Bodrin wiggled his way near her. “Something wrong with the stew? Why did you eat it if something is wrong with it?”
“Well, you’d go out of your mind if you ate the stew,” Tonelia said, chuckling.
“Tonelia, what’ve you done? Is the stew poisoned? Why did you eat it?” Bodrin was squirming to get free. “What can I do? Can you vomit it up? What have you done?”
“Well, it’s mind-boggling,” Tonelia said. She swallowed back another chuckle. “It’s okay, Bodrin, I’ll be fine.”
“What’re you talking about, Tonelia?” Saxthor asked.
“I seasoned the stew with locoweed from that pasture over there. That’s why I used the rest of our dried fruits; it was to mask the weed’s bitterness. In a little while, those orcs will be stumbling around out of their minds,” she said, her eyes beaming above her mischievous child’s grin.
“You sure you’ll be all right?” Bodrin asked. He rolled up against her, snuggling as much as two people tied up could.
“Lovestruck looks yet again,” Tournak said. He rolled over to turn away. “I just hope you two get married soon.”
“We need to get these ropes off,” Saxthor said. “Once the orcs go off-center, we’ll be able to escape if we’re ready then.”
“That’s not a problem,” Bodrin said. He rolled on his side, “Tournak, roll over here and up against me back to back. Wiggle down until your hands can reach my boots. See if you can get my hunting knife. Those stupid orcs didn’t check my boots.”
Tournak pulled out the beloved hunting knife and was able to hold the blade while Bodrin moved his tied hands up and down, cutting the rope. Within minutes, the group was free and ready to make their break.
Unnoticed by orcs and people, Twit had worked his way down through the smoke hole in the hut’s roof and was pecking away at the rope fibers holding Saxthor’s hands. The old bird was exhausted. He was halfway through the rope when Bodrin crept over and cut the binding with one stroke of his knife.
-
Nice, thought Twit. Good of you to come now. The old bird flew up in Bodrin’s face and then up and out the smoke hole. I hope I can keep Delia out of sight in the reeds.
-
Tonelia watched through the crack at the hut’s opening for signs of strange behavior, stranger than usual for orcs. It wasn’t long in coming. The orcs started to drool and stumble about then jerked their heads side to side in nervous twitches.
The orcs can’t reason or react, she thought, turning to Saxthor, “It’s time we were leaving.”
Saxthor led the detainees back to the boat, where most of their supplies were still intact, less the dried fruit. “I have to get our gear.”
Tonelia stood watch, while Saxthor held up
the escape to search for and retrieve their confiscated goods.
“I suppose we can’t leave without those weapons that have gotten us through so many scrapes,” Tonelia said, watching Saxthor search the camp.
While Saxthor and Bodrin got their weapons, Tournak coaxed Delia from hiding, and Tonelia called back Twit. Delia couldn’t resist a good nip on the orc commander’s backside. He was in no condition to prevent her parting expression of contempt. Twit took the opportunity to leave his calling card on an orc’s head, as well.
Not that he’ll notice it in that greasy nest, thought the bird.
With washed up oars located and a substitute mast of lashed orc spears, the party escaped the encampment. Without any battle at all, the refugees left the orcs to explain what’d happened to their prisoners and themselves.
9: Home to Neuyokkasin and Konnotan
The ambassador’s party had sailed down the Nhy to Favriana and Heedra, announcing the return of their long lost Neuyokkasinian prince. With the ambassador’s return, word spread of the heroic rescue in Sengenwhapolis and the news that Prince Saxthor would arrive soon after the ambassador’s departure. Back at Favriana, the people and garrison at Favriana Fortress were ecstatic. Word flashed across the kingdom about the valiant troupe's exploits. No sooner had a watch in Favriana Fortress spotted their little boat still out on the lake than the news spread, and citizens began gathering.
“I’m worried about the dragon’s progress,” Saxthor said, from the patched steering oar at the stern.
“We can see Favriana Fortress’s spires from here,” Bodrin said. “We’re almost at Neuyokkasin. We’ll be home soon.”
The N Arc of Empire- Complete Series Page 90