by Verity Moore
“Imagine such a magnificent structure in the midst of a forest. Is there a city close by? The road it connects is a barely discernible path. What is its purpose?” Kyam looked at Cierra, but someone else answered.
“Its purpose is to obey The Masters’ decree.” They whirled to find the voice. A slender man of middle years and luxurious red beard stepped from the forest’s edge a few scentons downwind of them. “Greetings, friends. Are you also in The Masters’ service?”
“We are.” Kyam nudged Cierra to stand behind him. How had this man crept up on them? Even downwind, Castoff and the werfs should have sensed his presence. He needed to find out this man’s secret for stealth.
“Excellent. I hope you can spare time to fellowship with me over a simple meal.”
Kyam stared into the man’s eyes. When he neither shifted nor dropped his gaze, nor allowed his eyes to dart about, Kyam nodded. “Thank you. I am Kyam and this is my wife, Cierra.”
Castoff approached the stranger, nose lifted, to thoroughly examine his scent.
“Who is this magnificent fellow?”
“His name is Castoff. And yours?”
“Forgive me. In my excitement over having guests, I forgot my manners.” He gave an awkward bow. “I am Thorson.” The werfs, who had pulled back out of sight at Thorson’s voice, ventured closer. “Oh my.” Thorson squeaked. “Are they with you?”
“They are good friends and traveling companions. No need to fear.”
Thorson rubbed his hands together. “More guests. What a fortunate and favored day. Please follow me to my humble abode.” Thorson tried to walk backward away from the river while talking—until he tumbled over a bush. He jumped up and brushed himself off while Riflit and Dareby nudged him with inquiring noses. “I’m fine. Fine. Just embarrassed. Even a simpleton knows enough to watch where he’s going.”
“Sometimes even looking forward isn’t enough.” Cierra smiled. “I stumbled more than once while crossing the cut-down forest.” She pointed “Back there. How did it come to be?”
Thorson’s face grew as sorrowful as a puppy’s when it’s been punished. “It was a desperate, futile search.” The canine werfs brushed against the man, low whines of sympathy in their throats.
Search for what? A rare bird’s nest? A band of naughty squirrels? A disease that afflicted trees? It was too soon in their acquaintance to ask such personal questions—especially ones that implied criticism of another’s choices. Kyam would wait for the right moment to find the answer. In the meantime he would relax his guard a little based on the werfs’ approval of the man’s heart. “We were grateful that the resre was spared.” Kyam stepped past Cierra to hold back a low-hanging branch.
“It is forbidden to fell a resre! We would never do that.” The bridge man looked horrified. He led them around a curve. “Mine is a small abode, simply furnished, but I hope you find rest and refreshment within its walls. I find the River Salz provides a soothing melody.”
When Kyam rounded the bend, he saw a small inlet. Short grasses, a scattering of trees, and a cozy little house filled the space. Everything was infused with peace. Smoke rose in contented puffs from a stone chimney.
Thorson chuckled when the feline werfs insisted on leading the way—and checking for danger. The two canine werfs acted as the rear guard. “Really, what danger do these dear creatures expect to find in my sleepy little hollow?”
“Evil is on the rise even in the quiet corners of Capular. It is best to be prepared.” Kyam pointed to the house. “It appears to be a house that opens its doors to all who would enter.”
The bridge man preened. “Yes, yes a friendly domicile. Please, please come in.”
They filled Thorson’s house to capacity—elbows and knees bumping, paws and toes in constant danger of being tread upon. Yet it was merry group who settled down in the house’s one room. In a far corner was a pallet for sleeping. A fireplace took up much of the back wall. There were a few pieces of furniture. Cierra ran her fingers along the highly polished wood of an oblong table. Carved vines and leaves wound around the edge—perfect symmetry and design. Six matching chairs ringed it, gleaming in the sunlight, every bit as beautiful as the table. Her delight was obvious.
“The carving is magnificent!” She bent to look more closely. “The detail is wonderful.”
Thorson blushed. “Thank you. It fills the time.”
“You are the artisan?”
The bridge man bowed, overbalanced and almost toppled on his nose. “You are too generous with your praise. I can show you a dozen faults.”
“Only The Masters create without flaws.” Kyam took Castoff’s and Cierra’s packs. “My wife is also an artist. If she says the work is excellent, it is. We are delighted to make your acquaintance, Thorson the Gifted.” He dropped the packs at the door’s edge—out of the way but quickly accessible.
“Actually, I am Thorson VI. For generations we have kept the bridge in perfect repair.” He set thick slices of bread and cheese on the table and sliced venison for Castoff and all the werfs. He then hurried to the garden to pluck two hypso blooms, five mint leaves, and seven chantel pods to add to Hezzor’s feast. “The Masters have given us a charge and we will keep it. Thorsons are faithful.” Next came a kettle steaming gently and smelling of apples and oranges. “The bridge must be ready at all times.”
“When was the last time it was needed?” Cierra moved closer to the kettle and sniffed.
“In great-grandfather Thorson’s day.” He stared at the table, “Now what have I forgotten?”
“A full century since the bridge was needed?” Cierra cleared her throat. “The food looks delicious. Perhaps plates…”
Thorson threw his arms in the air. “What a simpleton I am! Of course, plates. And cups as well.” He bustled over to a petite cabinet. It had the same lavish carving and gleaming surface as the table. “It’s been years, years since I had guests. Forgive me.”
Kyam leaned back in his chair and grinned. After weeks of hostility and problems, being with Thorson was like diving into a snow-fed pool: every sense tingled. Too much danger and intrigue could be deadening. “On the contrary, your hospitality has been the refreshment we most needed.”
Thorson plopped a bowl of honey on the table and looked at Kyam. “Good. Then I am not the only one to benefit. A mutual arrangement is so much more satisfactory.”
For a time, conversation was suspended as all ate quantities of plain food and drank fragrant tea. After the meal and its accompanying clean up, they relaxed on the grass in front of Thorson’s diminutive house.
Hezzor bowed before Kyam. “My king. As you know, we werfs chose our humans based on a heart to heart tie. We have vowed to travel to The Masters’ Empire on your behalf, as well as our own, and return. When we have completed that quest, we wish to give our allegiance to Thorson. We mean no offense and if ever you need our skills, you have only to ask.”
“You must honor your heart. Thorson is a worthy companion.” Kyam grinned. What could be better? Safe haven for the werfs and companionship for Thorson.
The werfs sat or lay as close to Thorson as they could. Hezzor stood behind him with a front leg resting on his head. Thorson couldn’t stop smiling. “Gracious me. What a fortunate fellow I am. How did a simpleton such as I come to be so blessed?”
Castoff dozed under a towering shade tree, ears and paws twitching with dog dreams.
“Forgive my curiosity—what brings you to my woods? Are The Masters on the move?”
“They are. And so is an enemy of Capular. You may soon have use for that magnificent bridge.”
“It is for that time that we Thorsons have remained faithful.”
“Beware of all soldiers, Thorson.” Cierra brushed aside a buzzing bee. “They will be in the pay of our enemy.”
“But what of our soldiers?”
“There are none.” Cierra’s voice was flat.
“None? Surely there are some?”
She shook her head. “The army was
disbanded twenty years ago.”
“Then how are we to fight this enemy?” Thorson paced. The werfs rose and kept step with him, their faces watchful. He tugged on his curly beard. “What is to be done?”
Kyam used his fingers to count off their tasks. “First the Watchers must be warned and rescued. Our enemy has infiltrated the citadel staff and poisoned them. Second, the bells must be rung properly to release the citizens from their stupor. Finally, we must discover the strategy given by The Masters to defeat our foe.”
Thorson’s eyes grew wider with each task named. “But Capular is a vast land, how will you accomplish all of this?” Thorson buried his head in his hands and mumbled, “It is impossible.”
“It would be, except for an underground river.” Kyam, with additions from Cierra, told of their adventures.
“What a great treasure this river…” Thorson froze, shook his head as if to clear it and continued, “Treasure…what a simpleton I am!”
He darted toward the trees. “I must…” He stopped, whirled around. “But where?” He reversed and stumbled back to Kyam and Cierra. “This is terrible. I have failed The Masters’ trust.” Tears slid down both cheeks. “They will take my bridge away and give it to someone worthy.” He sat down on a nearby stump. Werfs crowded around him to offer comfort—sniffs, licks, and furry rubs.
“Surely not…”
“How have you failed?” Kyam cut across Cierra’s reassurances.
“I have not found Their Treasure.” He hid his face in his hands. “I did not spend all my time searching. I should have felled more trees. There are whole sections untouched. Instead I wasted hours making fancy furniture.”
“What treasure?”
“I…I’m not sure.”
“Forgive me.” Kyam rubbed his jaw. “But how are you to find something if you do not know what it is?”
Cierra leaned forward. “Are you sure there is a treasure?”
“Oh, yes, there is a treasure.” Thorson took a deep breath. “You see, Great-grandfather Thorson died early—an accident. Grandfather Thorson was only ten.” He paced some more. “Great-grandfather had only begun to teach Grandfather about the treasure—a precious…something…that was in our charge.”
“Not the bridge?”
“Oh, no, Great-grandfather said it was safely hidden in a tree. So you see, it couldn’t be the bridge.”
“Did he give your grandfather any other clues?”
Thorson frowned and sat again. “He said it was to be used in times of great danger. And well, we were sure he was delirious, because he said there was another river. There is no other river within a hundred melos of here.”
Kyam and Cierra stared at each other.
“For three generations Thorsons have searched; felling tree after tree in section after section. You yourselves traveled through my most recent search area. But as you can see,” his arm swept in a large arc, “There are many possibilities.”
“Dare we hope for key and code book?” Cierra murmured.
“Yes, I think we may.”
Thorson froze, his eyes darted between Kyam and Cierra. “You know of such a tree?”
“We do.”
Thorson jumped up. “Then show me, show me.”
Kyam settled his hand on Thorson’s shoulder. “Tomorrow. There is not enough daylight left to find it now.”
“Does it have something to do with The Masters?”
“We hope so.” Cierra patted his arm. “But for now, tell us more of the faithful Thorsons. Have you a son?”
He shook his head. “No. I alone am left. If I had not so desired a son, I would not be the only Thorson left.”
“Now that is a puzzling statement.” Cierra chuckled. “I do not see how one leads to the other.”
“Father Thorson knew I yearned for a family. He left five years ago to find a maiden to be my wife. He never returned. Only death would have kept him away.” He twisted his hands into knots. “If I had been content…”
Kyam gripped his restless fingers. “The Masters give the yearning for family. Like good fathers do, he went to find the best possible bride.”
“Still, had he not gone…”
“He could have had an accident here and died as well.”
Thorson opened his mouth but never got a chance to speak.
Castoff’s whine of misery pulled their eyes in his direction. A cloud of butterflies circled in undulating waves above his head. One, an enormous magenta and purple flutterer, landed on his tail looking like a gaudy bow. Another gold and black beauty crawled from his ear tip to brow. The dog’s eyes rolled trying to follow its path. Even when Castoff twitched his ear rapidly, the butterfly clung. He raised a paw to brush it away.
“No, sir!”
Castoff raised martyred eyes to Kyam.
“They are fragile creatures. Be still.” Kyam swallowed his chuckle. How it must tickle.
With a resigned sigh Castoff rested his head between his paws. A cloud of white moths descended to cover his back. But the crowning indignity was a large royal blue and green butterfly which lighted on the end of his nose. His eyes crossed as he studied the winged creature leisurely rubbing its antennae while perched on his gray snout. Poor inundated dog.
His eyes begged Kyam for help. More multi-colored insects landed—blanketing him in fluttering wings.
Cierra snorted, “Can you imagine how that must feel?” Her eyes brimmed with glee. She used both hands to hide her giggles.
Kyam stored the picture—sunlight drawing rich sable hues from her hair and a passing breeze pressing her tunic against soft curves. She was relaxed and carefree as he had never seen her, with mischief and delight sparkling in her eyes. When he was old and bent, content to sit by the fire, he would pull out this picture and live the joy again.
Castoff sneezed. The butterflies lifted briefly, then settled back in place. The dog groaned and Thorson shooed the insects away. “He must have rubbed against some dipsom bushes; their dust draws all winged creatures.” He chuckled, “It also befuddles predators. One time a stalking wolf, who wished to dine upon my bones, walked right past the dipsom bushes where I crouched and kept on going.”
Kyam leaned forward. “Such a bush could be valuable indeed. What does it look like?”
Thorson jumped up. “Better than a description, I’ll fetch you a branch.” He hustled into the trees behind his house.
The butterflies returned, circling Castoff, swooping over his head. “Come, sir. A swim in the river will remove the scent and make you a less desirable flower bud.” Kyam and dog trotted to the bank, trailing a multi-colored flag.
Five minutes paddling in a shallow water chased all the winged beauties away.
Once Castoff no longer attracted every fluttering insect within melos, Kyam and Cierra studied the dipsom branch, memorizing its unique star-shaped leaves and lavender branches. Then they made plans late into the night. Hope of another key and complete code book changed their itinerary. They would retrace their steps, find the river portal in the woods, and search for the treasure.
A large part of the discussion circled around the werfs and their future. Should they go with Kyam and Cierra until Merlick was defeated?—skilled warriors were in short supply. Or journey to The Masters’ Empire in search of a weapon to defeat Inge?—Cierra would remain in danger until Inge was dealt with. Or stay with Thorson?—a man alone was easily eliminated. Especially a man so trusting as he.
Every possibility had drawbacks and cascading consequences. They did not come to a satisfactory conclusion and left their questions hanging in the air above the table. Whether or not they found Thorson’s treasure, she and Kyam would travel on to Lipfar.
They studied Thorson’s maps—meticulous and accurate ones—and determined the approximate location of the river door. They would leave before sunrise. By the time the sun crested the mountain top, they hoped to be within reach of the gold-leafed tree. It was clear from the maps that there was but one route to Lipfar. And it
ran close to where Kyam estimated the tree portal to be.
The trail shown on Thorson’s map was old and neglected, but they would still be able to follow it. Without his maps, they would have floundered and lost a great amount of time. They had been heading in the wrong direction. “Praise The Masters, They use even our mistakes for great good. To have missed Thorson would mean missing maps and probably key and code book. And to have never known a wonderful new friend.” Kyam stood and stretched. “My family will sleep outside but within sound of your voice.”
Hezzor motioned with a foreleg and two werfs—one canine and one feline—left the house. They will patrol until the moon starts its descent. Then the other two will stand guard.
“Gracious me. What do those dear creatures expect to find? That hungry wolf I spoke of has long since gone to better hunting ground.”
“They watch for rapacious hunters hiding in human form.”
Thorson slowly shook his head. It was hard to imagine a danger never met when all felt as it always had. The answer they had been searching for seemed suddenly obvious. They could not leave Thorson alone, unprotected.
✽✽✽
Birds chattered in the pre-dawn darkness. Dew beads rimmed every leaf and drenched all who brushed against them. The tall grasses clung to Cierra’s legs as she followed Thorson and Hezzor up a trail only he could see. The lead werf stayed one step behind the bridge man and kept a front leg on his shoulder. The two felines paced next to him while the two canine werfs followed behind Kyam and Castoff. Thorson led them through a section of forest that had been spared the axe.
Trees, black pillars in a dark gray world, rattled their branches. But she walked without fear since seasoned warriors surrounded her. A chill breeze ambushed them from behind. She snuggled into her cloak. Byssop nudged her thigh. His inquisitive furry face studied her. Cold, my queen? Would that I could give you my fur.
Cierra shook her head. “It looks far better on you. But thank you for your giving thought.”