The Wizard and the Warlord wt-3 Read online

  As the closest skeleton reached up to pull itself into the tunnel, Phen booted it back. He felt the dragon’s tear medallion at his neck tingle as its power flowed into his spell. He’d expected it, but the amount in which it magnified his casting was surprising. Slowly at first, the moat’s water stilled and clouded as the surface iced over. Within moments it was frozen solid. The eels were trapped in place and the two ice-locked skeletons were thrashing their arms and making silent faces as their eyes burned in anger. The other skeleton started across the ice. It kicked and took two steps, then fell hard as its metal feet lost all traction. Phen dropped to his belly and rolled back and forth across the cavern floor, crushing the dozens of flailing little eels that were stuck to him. Most of them let go, but not all. Without bothering with the last few, he tore off down the tunnel. Oarly and his axe were better suited to deal with the remaining skeleton. The sudden thought came to him that it was still several hours until the tide receded, and that the pool wouldn’t stay frozen that whole time. Phen was trying to think, but when he darted into the narrow passage all thoughts left his brain completely. He couldn’t fathom what he saw.

  Oarly was standing naked from the waist down, tipping a flask back while swinging his free arm round and round for balance. After he gulped his sip, he started humming and dancing a jig.

  Chapter 5

  Borg was correct. The whole city of Dreen decided to celebrate the death of the demon that had stormed through. Since the head was far too large to post on a pike outside the castle, Borg jammed it down onto the castle’s highest flag pole. People all over the city came to see it, and the pure-blooded giant that killed it. During the private feast, which was held in one of the castle’s many stableyards, the number of spectators outside the castle walls began to grow. Borg, holding a full-size loaf of fresh baked bread that looked like a dinner roll in his hand, and a wide-necked floor vase full of ale in the other, announced that later he would recount the doing of the deed for them all.

  Servants and castle staff spread the word, and by the time the feast was finished there were thousands of people gathered outside the castle. Luckily, General Escott and his troops were at hand to keep the gathering from getting disorderly. Many people were drunk, or trying to get that way, but most were just curious and happy to be hearing something besides the dire news of post-war horrors.

  Mikahl made sure the great wolves were fed. Three does, freshly killed by the Royal Huntsmen, were laid out for them. Mikahl didn’t want to hear Borg’s story; he wanted to read the scroll from Hyden. He took a lantern and the rolled parchment out to where the wolves were. It had been several months since he’d been forced to leave his friend, who’d been deathly ill from hellborn scorpion venom. He’d left Hyden in the depths of the Dragon Queen’s dungeon and had thought him dead for a long time.

  The oohs, awes, and gasps from the crowd as Borg strode up to the castle’s palisade and leaned his elbows on it drew his attention. The giant’s warm laugh rumbled through the cool evening air. Mikahl smiled, knowing that the citizens of Dreen were about to be entranced by a wonderful tale. Giants were the very best of storytellers. Mikahl wished the people from Westland could be present too, but most of all he wished King Jarrek’s people could hear.

  Already the giant’s voice was building the tale. Never had so many people gathered in the streets been so eerily quiet. Only the panting of Oof and Urp at Mikahl’s side could be heard. He gave them each a pat on the neck then reached down and scratched Huffa behind the ears. Huffa shivered and made a circle. Her toothy maw opened wide into a tongue-curling yawn. The grazing pen they were in was well kept. Mikahl found a workbench under an old gnarled oak and sat down. The great wolves gathered around him, as if he were one of them. Even the wolves he didn’t know seemed to accept him as one of the pack.

  Once he was comfortable, he broke the seal on the scroll and looked it over. The writing was neat but far from carefully scribed. It made Mikahl laugh. Hyden had grown up in the mountains, illiterate. He was the best archer in the realm, though, and a self-proclaimed master wizard.

  Mikahl took a deep breath and began to read:

  High King Mikahl Collum,

  Mik, I am alive and well, recovering from the poisonous bite of that thing. I am with my people in the mountains, learning from the goddess and preparing for my destiny. I ask that you keep this quiet. A few others will have to be told, as this missive will explain. I know that I can trust you to carry out my requests directly, and efficiently. I will, as soon as I can, return to the kingdoms and grace you with my presence as payment.

  Mikahl laughed at that. He knew Hyden wasn’t egotistical in the least. The man thought he was a jester, though. Mikahl couldn’t help but smile as he read on.

  Firstly, the long bow Vaegon gave me is still in the dungeon at Lakeside Castle. Please have it retrieved and given into Phen’s care. As you know, it is priceless to me.

  Secondly, Talon has found me and I understand the condition he and Phen share. Please inform Phen that I will accompany him into the Giant Mountains to seek the pool Claret told him of. Have Lord Gregory give him directions to my clan’s village, and ask Master Oarly to come as a personal favor to me. At your choosing, a small escort should be sent with them as there are still several stray demons about, not to mention the other hazards of the mountains. A few capable swords, and an archer or two should do. If Phen can bring the bow at that time, I would be grateful.

  Thirdly, and most importantly, you must be made aware of some things. The thing that used to be my brother is still loose in the planes of hell. It has grown into an enormous power and has assumed the role of Abbadon, the Master Warlord of the hells. He will relentlessly try to find a way into our world. He saw you dispatch Shaella. I believe he will seek vengeance for the death of his love. You aren’t in any immediate danger, as there are no open gateways in existence that I know of. The goddess of my people has told me of a device that will allow you and me to banish the Abbadon to a deeper, darker place, where he won’t be able to travel the world of man any longer. This artifact lies beyond the Giant Mountains, and after Phen and Talon have been revived in the Leif Repline fountain, we will seek it out. Please choose the party well — no family men, as some of them will not return.

  Xwarda must be guarded at all times. The foundation of the city is pure Wardstone, as you know. If the Abbadon, or any of his minions, managed to manipulate that substance, he could breach the barrier between the worlds permanently. This must never be allowed to happen. Queen Willa and General Spyra must be told of the threat as well. Proper defenses must be manned. It may be tomorrow or it may be a dozen years from now, but my brother, the Abbadon, will come. We must be prepared. Below is a list of scrolls and texts I need Phen and Master Oarly to bring to me.

  Finally, I do not know what became of the staff Queen Shaella used to communicate with my brother. She held it in her right hand as you took off her head. You must find it and lock it away in a vault, or have Master Amill, or another qualified wizard, spell it powerless. If there is a force that will help the Abbadon find another gateway, or a flaw in the barrier that exists, the Spectral Orb atop that staff is it.

  Now all of that is out of the way, I’m happy for you, and pleased that you somehow managed to save Princess Rosa. Tell the Lion Lord that Tylen sends his regards, as do my mother and father. Sadly, my grandfather passed away. Tell Lord Gregory that my Uncle Condlin has assumed the position of Eldest, and that you and your wife are forever welcome here. He asked me to tell you to make sure that the Summer’s Day Festival is crowded next year. My people depend on the trade there. Even you could’ve gotten your name on the Spire this year.

  I must close this missive. Borg is growing impatient, and his stinking sack is offending the womenfolk. Once Phen arrives here, I’ll have him contact Dreen’s mage with a sending. Give my respects to Willa, Jarrek, and the dwarves.

  Your friend,

  Hyden

  Mikahl just stared at the par
chment for a long while.

  General Spyra was now Lord Spyra. The man was trying to reorganize Westland with the help of Lady Able. Master Wizard Amill had been killed fighting alongside the dwarves at the Battle of O’Dakahn. Hyden Hawk must not have heard.

  Borg was well into his second tale. He was now telling the story of how his people once killed a rogue dragon without the aid of magic. Mikahl could hear the giant’s booming voice carrying through the otherwise silent night. At his feet the great wolves had fallen asleep, save for Huffa, who kept a watchful eye over the rest. Through all the dire warnings and talk of magical artifacts, Mikahl’s mind kept coming back to the same strange fact. Neither Phen nor Master Oarly were at the feast earlier. As he thought about it more, he decided that he hadn’t seen either of them for a few days. He began to worry about them. He could only imagine what they were up to.

  Oarly saw a glowing ball and three little serpents dangling as if they were trying to swim through the air to get at it. He stopped his advance and looked at the flask in his hand, then back at the scene. Phen’s voice startled him so badly that he dropped the container into the fire. When the flames flared from the alcohol he stepped back.

  “Oarly,” Phen yelled in a panic. “Get your clothes on. No, forget it, get your axe. There’s a skeleton coming, and two more back at-”

  Oarly’s eyes went wide and locked onto something behind what he now realized was the invisible Phen. The boy whirled around and Oarly saw a shiny sword come sinking down at Phen’s chest. It hit Phen with a clank and it appeared that the hardness of the boy’s condition startled the thing wielding it. Suddenly the skeleton went stumbling backward, the result of an invisible fist, Oarly assumed.

  Oarly came charging out of the tunnel with a yelp and bounced off of Phen. The half-naked dwarf went careening off at an odd angle with his axe held high. His battle cry faded into a cry of dismay. It looked as if the axe were too heavy for him and he was having to run to stay under it. He righted himself as Phen pulled Loak’s ring off of his finger and became visible again.

  Phen didn’t know whether to laugh or cringe at the sight of the hairy naked dwarf. The skeleton stepped heavily into a swing of its silvery blade. Oarly met the blow with his axe and cleaved the thing’s sword arm completely from its body. Phen felt the wave of relief wash over him. When the skeleton bent down to try to get the sword with its other hand, he strode up to it and kicked it with a heavy marble boot. The skeleton’s legs crumbled, and it half fell into the pool. For a long time it thrashed about menacingly, but it was obviously no longer a threat.

  “Where are your clothes?” Phen asked.

  Oarly looked down and realized that he was naked from the waist down. “Bah!” he growled and stalked off toward the narrow passage.

  “There are two more of those skeletons back there,” Phen said. “We’d better hurry, before the ice I put them in melts.”

  “Aye, lad,” Oarly said. “If ya hadn’t scared me shitless, I wouldn’t be needing to get my clothes back on now, would I?”

  Phen took a step back. He didn’t think he’d ever seen Oarly so mad before. He had to fight to hold in his mirth.

  “Look,” he said, holding up the egg-sized emerald for the dwarf to see.

  Oarly looked at it, gave a nod, then continued his tirade. “We got buckets full of jewels left over from that blasted dragon’s lair. I got scars from getting that treasure. What good is one more jewel, lad? I just don’t understand.”

  “This one is magic. You played like you were dying in that lair, Oarly. You made me cry when I thought you’d died.” Phen turned toward the larger tunnel. He could hear the skeletons’ loud, scraping approach. “If I made you shit yer britches a dozen times, we still wouldn’t be even.”

  Oarly’s anger vanished. He even barked out a laugh. He knew he’d made the boy cry like a babe. He pulled his boots on and grabbed the flask he’d dropped. Most of it had indeed spilled onto the fire. He still drained the last few drops.

  “All right, lad, let’s see what you’ve stirred up, then.”

  Together they charged off into the larger cavern. One of the skeletons had pulled itself in two, and the torso was trying to drag itself along the floor by its arms. Seeing that, Oarly gave it a wide berth. Phen took a long stride and planted his heavy foot on its rib cage. The thing rattled and then grew still. Phen leaned down for a closer look at its jeweled eyes. The rubies looked like onyx pebbles now that the power in them had been extinguished.

  “You don’t even need me, Marble Boy,” Oarly chuckled. “That blade that slashed across your body didn’t even scratch your robe.”

  “Stop calling me Marble Boy,” Phen yelled. He hated that. He hated that he sounded like a little child in a play yard over it, too. “I won’t be Marble Boy for long, Oarly. You can wager on that.”

  “Awww, lad, you just don’t know,” the dwarf replied, pointing down at the serpent-covered third skeleton lying still at the bottom of the moat. Somehow the little eel-like creatures had survived the freeze. They wiggled and squirmed through the melting slush as if nothing had happened. “You will be Marble Boy forever.” Oarly laughed heartily and clasped Phen around the waist in a brotherly hug. “As long as you live, you’re doomed to be remembered as the boy made of marble who rode the red dragon and saved us at the Battle of O’Dakahn. Only if you somehow manage to magic yourself into a king, or a god, can you shake such a nickname.”

  Just then a loud splash erupted from behind them in the entry cavern. Both of them turned and started quickly back toward it. If it was the serpent then they were possibly trapped between it and all the little ones in the pool. As they ran, Phen gave the emerald to Oarly and fumbled for Loak’s ring. It was hard to get it back off of the medallion chain and onto his finger while holding the dagger. He almost dropped it. Finally he put the dagger between his teeth and slipped on the ring.

  The opening of the big tunnel wasn’t blocked off yet, but they could see that the entry cavern was filled with the slithering green glow of the serpent.

  “I’ll look,” Phen said.

  “Extinguish your light, fool,” Oarly hissed. “It’ll see you, if it hasn’t already.”

  “Oh.” Phen had forgotten about the light spell entirely.

  Suddenly the place went dark save for the continuously moving glow that radiated off of the serpent. Phen eased down to the big cavern and looked. The serpent was in front of the smaller tunnel, intently flicking its tongue as far as it could reach. Phen felt the jewel on the medallion around his neck begin to tingle and knew instantly that the serpent would sense it.

  “Out of the tunnel now, Oarly,” he yelled. “Stay against the wall. We can’t let it trap us inside.”

  The great head of the serpent lunged at Phen’s fountaining jewel, its huge, toothy maw opening wide as it came. Phen realized then that being invisible before this sinuous monster did absolutely no good, but by the time the thought finished in his head, he was covered in a cloud of fresh fishy smell, and the serpent’s mouth was closing down over him.

  “For Doooon!” he heard Oarly scream, but Phen was yanked off his feet and the world turned into a dark, spinning frenzy.

  Chapter 6

  Telgra’s eyes fluttered open. The puffy clouds she saw in the sky weren’t twirling about crazily anymore. In a panic, she glanced around. There were no shiny-armored kings riding winged horses of flame. There were no talking statues trying to greet her. There was only Dostin and Corva and the open sea. She lay back for a moment and felt relief, but then the memory of the great spell, and the horrible sounds she’d heard, came flooding back into her mind like a torrent.

  “Where is my father?” she yelled, trying to sit up again.

  “Give her another sip please, Dostin,” Corva said. “I’d do it myself but-”

  Telgra saw the nuances of the look on Corva’s elven face and the wounds on Dostin’s. She felt a deep ache in her shoulder. Not sure that she was ready to hear the answer to her questio
n, she sipped from the flask Dostin offered. After a moment, she slipped back into a dreamy sleep.

  When she woke, the starry sky wasn’t bobbing and weaving. She looked around and saw that she was in a camp. Waist-high grass teaming with noisy insects surrounded a trampled-down circle, blocking her view of what was beyond the immediate area. A pale blue flame flickered in the center of the encampment. It gave out little warmth, but its soft light was welcome.

  A snore from a few feet away was coming from the plump, round-faced monk. Telgra stretched but immediately regretted it. Her shoulder was sore. She inspected it and found a trio of ugly purple scars that had recently been healed by elven magic. The way the ache still throbbed deep inside her body, she knew the wound had to have been healed more than once.

  Inspecting the area, she found most of a single sail dinghy jutting up into the sky over the grass nearby. She vaguely remembered being at sea in it. By the way it swayed and rocked, she knew it was sitting in water. Her nose told her that the water around her was brackish. The whole area smelled musty, like half-rotted vegetation.

  A loud splash exploded through the night. It came from not too far away. A grunting, huffing noise, like someone running, more splashing, and then the distinct sound of an elven bow loosing arrows quickly. Without knowing she’d done it, Telgra scooted herself precariously close to Dostin. She was tempted to wake him. A deep-rooted fear was taking hold of her. It wasn’t the fear of the moment. She was a capable mage and forester. She was more than able to defend herself against most any man or beast. It was the fear of what had happened to the fiery tree grove, to her father, Brevan, and the other elves. It was the fear of the reason she was sitting in a marsh camp that was far, far away from the Isle of Salaya.

  Corva was approaching now, she could tell. He was dragging with him whatever it was he had killed.