Sapiens led them to a bare room with wooden chairs around an oak table. There wasn’t much comfort in the twin towers. The eight of them sat around the table: Adam and Emily, Balom, Xylor and Montor, Lar and Tann, the leader of the brownies, with Sapiens.
The elderly wizard explained how she had arrived swiftly in the Elven lands. Her wise eyes didn’t miss Adam’s little smile.
“You are asking yourself how one so old and slow could arrive swiftly at her destination, is it not so, Adam?” She looked piercingly into his eyes, and Adam’s lips formed a perfect circle as he gazed open-mouthed at Sapiens’s seat, where now, one unblinking eye fixed him from the tilted grey and black feathered face of a peregrine falcon.
“Gyak, kee, kee-a!” the falcon called, and before Adam had time to say anything, there was Sapiens sitting and smiling mischievously where the falcon had been.
“Who goes out in the world sees everything, he who stays at home doesn’t believe it, is it not so, Master?” Lar laughed at Adam’s amazement.
“Wizards are always transforming their shape,” Tann whispered to Emily, who was sitting next to him with her mouth open, too. His little, brown face became serious. “That’s why I never harm any creature. It might turn out to be a wizard! Then there’d be trouble.”
“Mm, yes,” Emily agreed with wide eyes, “I see what you mean!”
Sapiens took up her explanation again. On the wing, in her falcon form, she had seen the Marshland goblins marching towards the Dwarfish Lands. She knew that the elves could not arrive at the towers before the goblins, so her forces crossed the river by raft at night, and Xylor’s forest elves vanished into the woods. With Montor and the mountain elves, she had formed a decoy, marching brazenly past the goblin-held towers.
As they had hoped, at this provocation, the goblins stormed out of the towers after them. A hail of arrows from the forest elves in the woods met them. Since goblins are ill-disciplined, they plunged into the woods after the elves. There they met with even greater losses. Unable to catch or even see their enemy, the surviving goblins set fire to the woods, but by this time, the mountain elves had taken and closed the towers. The Marshland goblins were furious, but as Sapiens explained, they are not such stupid creatures that they would charge the walls and risk great losses to the elfin archers. They simply marched off into the Dwarfish lands, leaving the woods ablaze and their dead unburied.
“About their dead,” Balom said, “I didn’t see arrows in their bodies, or we would have realised that the elves had arrived.”
“I can explain that,” Xylor smiled. “We are going to need all the arrows we possess in the dark days ahead. No sense in leaving good arrows in bad meat!”
Emily shuddered at Xylor’s choice of words, and the handsome elf smiled apologetically at her, but Emily didn’t meet his gaze.
“The enemy will not be so easily outwitted in future,” Sapiens said, “once the hobgoblins take charge. They are more astute than goblins and much stronger.”
Balom was on his feet and pacing backwards and forwards, something clearly bothering him: “The marshland goblins are freely roaming our lands, pillaging and plundering, while we are here making small talk!” He bellowed like a wounded bull, “We are wasting time!”
Sapiens eyed him coldly. “What do you propose, Balom the Black?”
“Let’s get after them!” Balom boomed, smashing his fist down on the table to back up his words.
“Leaving the towers unguarded and the road open to the enemy?”
“The elves can hold the towers. The dwarves will hunt the goblins. Adam shall lead us!”
“Why do you think the Marshland goblins have gone off?” Sapiens asked patiently. “They want to tempt you after them. They are the least of our problems. By splitting our defences, they’ll make the barrier weaker for the advancing tide. The enemy is mighty, Balom. Just think, Pride commands the hobgoblins, Highland goblins, the Archgoblin’s forces, the spriggans, the Elves of Adversity…”
“Vermin!” Montor spat out at mention of their treacherous cousins.
“…we are already outnumbered and must resist at all costs,” Sapiens concluded, “even if, dear Balom, other dwarves must pay the price to avoid Universal Death. Each of us must be prepared to face death to save what we love from Pride. Not even wizards are immortal, my friend.”
Balom sat down slowly, tight-lipped. He didn’t say anything, but he had accepted Sapiens’s words. Adam suddenly leapt up and snatched Cari out of his pocket with a cry. He looked suspiciously at the orb.
“What's the matter, Adam?” his sister asked.
“It burnt my leg!” Adam said incredulously. “Through my pocket.” He looked at the orb, perhaps expecting it to tell him something. Instead, he dropped it to the floor, more in shock than in pain. “It did it again!” he cried.
“Maybe you’re no longer pure in heart,” Emily said sarcastically.
Everyone looked at the orb lying on the floor. Sapiens was the first to offer an explanation: “Adam, you have carried the lost orb worthily, but now it has returned home among the elves.”
Adam smiled; he was quite happy about handing the elven orb to a worthy elf. “Cari might have found a politer way of telling me,” Adam said sorely, “after what we’ve been through together.”
Sapiens smiled. “It’s an elven orb; even in this company, I’m not afraid to say that even the best elves have peculiar characters!” She looked at the two elves, who smiled mischievously. “Mmm!” Sapiens nodded. “They know what I mean, look!” She indicated the orb with her head and looked at Xylor.
The forest elf stepped forward nimbly and bent over the silver sphere. He reached to pick Cari up, but stopped, reading the runes. “Ah no,” he smiled at Montor, “this is a mountain orb. Come, my friend, the orb is yours!”
Montor joined the forest elf, and his face couldn’t conceal his curiosity. “Why, ’tis so!” he said, surprised, and took Cari into his hand where suddenly the orb joyfully burst into song—melodious elven music and cast multi-coloured stars into the air, which hung there, only very slowly sinking to the floor.
Adam and Emily laughed till their sides ached, and even Balom managed a smile. Adam wiped his eye, and when he’d got his breath back, said, “You can tell when Cari’s happy!”
Montor smiled at the boy. “Adam the Dragonteaser: I name you Honorary Mountain Elf, for you are truly worthy of our people’s friendship if Cari has let you carry it.”
Adam grinned. “I’ve parted with Cari, but I’ve gained lots of new friends.” He spent the rest of the evening talking to Montor. They chatted until late before retiring to uncomfortable straw beds. Everyone except Adam because Sapiens drew him to one side, leading him into an empty corridor.
“Adam,” the ancient wizard said, “the dwarves have made you their Supreme Commander; now you are an Honorary Mountain Elf.”
Adam looked sheepish and searched for irony in the wizard’s face or voice but could find none.
“Nay, my dear boy, I have no need to mock. You have earned your honours through your bravery and good-sense. However, one so young has little or no knowledge that serves for a military commander, am I right?”
Adam looked in the grey eyes of the wizard and saw only compassion and understanding there. He hung his head and said, “I’m not worthy of being their leader.”
“No, but you will be,” Sapiens said and pressed a hand to either side of Adam’s head. “Empty your mind of thoughts,” she said. “Nay, try harder! Good, that’s good!”
Adam felt a tingling in his head as if energy were flowing into his brain from the wizard’s hands. Then the feeling passed, and he felt extremely tired.
“That’s done,” said Sapiens. “You may now possess unrivalled military knowledge, but your body needs its rest. Go to bed, Adam. Get a good night’s sleep. You will need it before you lead your troops into battle.”
Adam looked at the wizard with a new-born awareness that no living foe could match his soldier
’s grasp of strategy and tactics. “Thank you, Sapiens. I’ll sleep easier now I know I’m equal to the task.” It wasn’t until he’d pulled the blanket up to his chin that he had an unworthy thought: ‘I’ll show Emily how Supreme I am as a Commander,’ but he immediately felt ashamed. If there were any credit to be taken, it belonged to Sapiens. How could he defeat Pride if he was vain and arrogant? The young warrior fell into a deep and untroubled sleep.
37
Daylight brought with it an unwelcome sight. The opposite river bank was crawling with goblins, hobgoblins and spriggans. Adam and Emily joined Sapiens and the others on the outer wall. The enemy’s ranks were so full that they seemed to have no end. Adam groaned, “We can’t possibly beat so many.”
“Why not?” Balom boomed defiantly.
“Look!” Sapiens pointed across the river. “Can you see that hobgoblin with the hounds?”
They all followed the line of Sapiens’s finger to an iron-clad figure hauling five ferocious hounds back on their leashes. “That's Fray,” the wizard said, “Captain of the enemy forces. He’s cold-blooded and merciless. Over there,” she said, moving her finger, “is a pavilion. Do you see it? Purple and black stripes? Inside will be Pride, the Archgoblin and other goblin commanders.”
“Perhaps we should raise a banner,” Emily said suddenly, “just to let Pride see that we’re not afraid of him.”
Sapiens linked arms with Emily. “Pride’s forces maybe, but not Pride.”
“Why not?”
“Didn't you know? He can’t see: Pride is blind.”
“Blind!” Adam exclaimed. “So why does he want to rule the world?”
“All the more reason, I’d say,” Sapiens invited Adam to think.
“Do you think they’ll come on to the bridge,” Tann asked, “or will they cross on rafts?”
Adam looked at the brownie’s anxious, little face and back at Fray, the hobgoblin captain. At that moment, the war seemed to him as good as lost.
“We must wait and see,” Sapiens answered the brownie. “Only when they move can we react.”
Time passed with no movement from the enemy. When it came, it was a surprise. Fray strode on to the bridge, his five leashed hounds straining furiously at their leashes. Behind him, some twenty goblins pushed a strange, wheeled machine. The rest of the enemy army stayed where it was.
Fray’s iron shoes rang on the cobbled stone bridge as he drew near. He stopped and tugged on the five leashes. The vicious hounds bared their teeth and barked up at the defenders on the wall high above them. They strained, but Fray displayed his great strength by the ease with which he restrained the slobbering beasts.
Xylor unslung his bow and took an arrow from his quiver. “I can rid the world of that monster,” he said fiercely, eyeing Fray's bare throat. Sapiens held up her hand. “No, Xylor! The enemy wouldn’t expose himself without reason. Let’s see what he intends.”
As if on cue, Fray raised his free hand, bringing the machine to a halt. The hobgoblin’s cruel face slashed into a malign grin. It reminded Emily of one of those demons carved in stone on church walls in her Own World. He waved his hand. In response, the goblins snatched away a cover from the machine.
“Palustric!” gasped four or five of them on the high wall. Their friend lay stretched and bound with rope on a rack.
“Let me show you how this toy works,” Fray shouted up, gloating. “I pull this lever to start the sand in this container trickling out through the bottleneck.” Grinning gleefully at the taut faces above, he pulled the lever. One of his hounds tugged him slightly off balance. With an ugly expression, Fray kicked it violently in the ribs with his iron boot. The creature howled and turned viciously on its attacker. Fray hit the savage creature repeatedly with his mailed glove until the beast lay whimpering, bloodied and twitching at his feet. The others sat cowering next to it, watching Fray from lowered eyes. “That's better,” Fray growled, baring his yellow teeth. “Now, where was I? Ah yes, the sand counterbalances these four extremely sharp weighted blades.” The hobgoblin let the leashes fall to his feet and pointed out the blades. “One here, above the dwarf’s right arm; one here, above his left arm; one here, above his left leg; and I'm sure you’ve worked it out by now,” he sneered, “one above his right leg! Of course, after a certain amount of time,” he sneered again at the horrified onlookers, “there won’t be enough sand left in the container, and the blades will fall…”
He looked up at the pale, strained faces. “A little demonstration, perhaps…?” The monster turned quickly and grabbed the nearest goblin soldier. His mighty arms hauled the wretch off his feet and up towards the blade above Palustric’s right leg. “Now, as I was saying,” the hobgoblin effortlessly held the wriggling goblin’s neck close to the blade, “these blades are extremely sharp. I’ll lop off this soldier’s head to prove my point.”
The goblin screamed and thrashed. “Please!” he wailed a desperate plea. Fray was enjoying himself. He put the goblin closer and laughed, snatched him away and then put him closer again. The goblin’s pitiful cries echoed around the towers. Fray lowered the goblin slowly and leered into his white, sweating face. “I think they believe me, don’t you?”
The goblin nodded furiously.
“Careful,” Fray grinned fiendishly, “you’ll nod your head off like that!” He guffawed at his joke and let the goblin drop. The soldier scrambled to his feet and scuttled off to lose himself among his companions. Fray watched him and laughed. “These blades are for Dwarfish blood.” He stared up at the tower. “Unless, of course, we make a deal. The dwarf,” he pointed at Palustric, “in exchange for the Key. You have exactly two hours to decide—well, less than two hours, to be precise, the sand has been running for a while now!” Fray laughed unpleasantly. “I think I’ve made myself clear.” With that, he whistled, setting off the four hounds bounding to his side. He picked up their leashes and strode off noisily, uncaringly leaving the senseless hound where it lay while the goblins wheeled the machine back to the other end of the bridge. There they left it to stand, in front of the enemy forces and under the gaze of the distraught defenders.
Adam already had his sword at Balom’s throat to prevent the maddened dwarf from rushing across the bridge to certain death for himself and his nephew. When Balom the Black had calmed down, they went to their meeting room to discuss what to do.
The only thing all eight could agree on was that the Key would never be handed to the enemy, for that would be the end for all of them. None of them wanted to leave Palustric to such an appalling fate, but what could they do?
“They’ve given us about an hour and a half,” Sapiens said, “just long enough to break our resistance.”
“Never!” Balom repeated. “Not even for Palustric. If I ever get my hands on Pride…” he boomed uselessly.
At that moment, three swallows flew through the open window and circled the room. Sapiens leapt to her feet with a cry of joy. “Here’s help!” she laughed.
In an instant, the swallows became three wizards, one of whom Adam, Emily and Lar recognised.
“Deductio!” Emily cried.
“In person,” the wizard smiled, “with Valens and Veritas. Now, first things first,” he looked at Lar, “did you take good care of Guess?”
Lar’s little face lit up. “Grain and gratitude only grow in good soil, is it not so?” He looked around undecided who to ask, with all these wizards and his master too.
“It’s quite true, Lar,” Sapiens smiled, “even if I suspect that Guess took good care of you! But now we must explain our predicament to our friends.”
“It’s unnecessary,” Deductio said, “because we’ve been flying around the towers for some time. We heard and saw everything. Did you not see us?”
“Huh! With all the other birds and with more important things than bird watching on our minds?” Sapiens clicked her tongue.
Deductio sat down at the table and indicated the two chairs next to him for Valens and Veritas. “Every problem
has a logical solution,” he said. “This one is no exception—the answer lies with Emily.”
“With me!” Emily wasn’t expecting this.
“I’m sure of it. And not by chance, I have my two friends with me. Sit opposite us, Emily.”
The girl moved to obey and found herself looking into three wonderful, ageless faces. Veritas had the most honest eyes; at once, she felt she could trust him with her life. Without thinking, she held out her left hand to him across the table. Veritas took it, his sincere smile making lines around his eyes.
Valens, the youngest and strongest of the wizards said, “Emily, give me your other hand.” She obeyed, losing her tiny hand locked in his great one. Her eyes strayed to his steely gaze; she could feel courage flowing into her.
Deductio asked, “Emily, who is our enemy?” Emily couldn’t take her eyes from Valens but answered without turning, “Pride is our enemy.”
“Emily,” the wizard insisted, “what is the opposite of Pride?”
She hesitated. “Humility, I suppose, or simplicity.”
“Good, how can Pride be defeated?”
Emily's face suddenly brightened. “Yes, I know!” she cried, and the wizards let go of her hand. She stood up and smiled at the other anxious faces in the room.
“I’m sorry, Adam,” she said to her brother.
“What for, Em?”
“I’m sorry about this morning. I shouldn’t have been sarcastic.”
“That’s true,” Adam was surprised. Why the sudden change of heart? It wasn’t like his sister to be so sincere, but Veritas had an odd smile on his face.
Emily unbuckled her sword and took off her white armour. “I won’t need these,” she said. “Now, I need a sharp knife, who’s got one?”
Balom pulled a knife from its sheath at his belt. “Be careful,” he boomed, “it’s very sharp; it’s the best blade in all the Dwarfish Lands.”
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