The Quest for the Trilogy: Boneslicer; Seaspray; Deathwhisper (61 page)

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Authors: Mel Odom

BOOK: The Quest for the Trilogy: Boneslicer; Seaspray; Deathwhisper
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“Yes,” the sword replied. “I'm supposed to guard everything in here.”
“All right,” Wick said, “but if I'm going to pick it up again, I might as well shine it.”
“Never mind,” the sword said. “I guess I need to get my eye checked. I haven't been out of this treasure room in a long time. Maybe I'm just seeing things.”
Wick returned to the weapons rack, looked down at the sword, then picked up Seaspray.
“Hey,” Frostfire called. “Over here.” The sword jostled in place. “You grabbed the wrong sword. I'm the one with the eye. See?” He blinked rapidly.
“I know,” Wick said. “I was just told to shine this sword, too.” He carried Seaspray over to the elven mirror and saw the spell was still in effect because the surface was still rippling.
“I thought you were going to shine me.”
“I am. I just don't want to forget these weapons. Kulik Broghan will be very cross with me if I don't remember to shine these two.”
“Why are they his favorites all of a sudden?” Frostfire asked in a petulant voice.
“He doesn't tell me things like that.”
“He hasn't told me, either,” the sword said, “and I get tired of it, I tell you. I mean, how many other sentient swords does Kulik Broghan have?”
None, I hope
, Wick thought. He dropped Seaspray into the mirror pool. It went in with hardly a ripple and only a slight
sploosh
.
“Hey,” Frostfire protested. “You did it again!”
“Did what?”
“You put that sword in the mirror like you did the axe!”
“I'm sure it only looks that way from there.”
“Actually, it looks that way from here, too.”
Noticing the change in the sound of the voice, Wick peered over his shoulder and found Frostfire floating there, gently bobbing as if riding out an invisible ocean.
“I was watching you that time,” the sword accused. “You dropped that sword into the mirror.”
“Uh—” Wick thought furiously. “No I didn't.”
“I saw you.”
“I didn't drop it,” Wick said. “It slipped.”
“Slipped?” Frostfire blinked at him, as if considering the truth of what he was saying.
“Sure. I have polish on my hands. It gets slippery.”
“You dropped the sword?”
“Yep.” Wick showed the magic sword his best innocent smile. Maybe it didn't work on Grandmagister Frollo anymore, but surely it would work on the sword. After all, Frostfire hadn't been all that bright to begin with, and the evil spell had dulled its wits.
“Swords don't fall through mirrors,” Frostfire said.
“I'm not responsible for the mirrors,” Wick said, drawing himself up. “I'm just here to polish weapons.”
Unfortunately, a rather large ruby chose that moment to spill out of the pouch he'd crammed so full of loot. The gem skittered across the floor and bounced against the wall.
Tilting forward, Frostfire examined the bag at Wick's hip. “That bag is full of gold coins and gems.”
“I've got to polish those as well,” Wick said, thinking it was at least worth a try.
Frostfire's eye narrowed in suspicion. “You know, suddenly I don't believe you. You know what? I don't think you're a treasure polisher at all. I think you're a—” The sword's voice rose by several decibels. “—
THIEF!
Help! Thief! Thief in the treasure room! Help!”
Immediately, the sound of running feet pounded in the room outside the door. Kulik Broghan obviously kept guards posted nearby.
“Thief in the treasure room!” the sword continued to yell. It spun around, bringing its blade up to engage Wick.
Moving quickly, Wick grabbed the snarling wolf-face elven helm from the stone head and used it to block the sword blow. Just as quickly, he reached out and poked the sword in the eye with a forefinger.
“Arrrrrrgggggghhhhhh!” the sword screamed. “He poked my eye! He poked my eye! I'm blind! Help!”
The door rattled as it started to swing inside.
Unwilling to wait around any longer, Wick dove into the mirror, grabbing the loot bag and shoving it ahead of him because he didn't want to get hung up on it. There was a moment of the intense black cold again, then he shot through the other mirror and back into the drainage tunnel.
“Little warrior,” Cobner called, starting forward. He held Boneslicer in both hands. His own battle-axe was slung over his back.
Sonne stood nearby with Seaspray.
Wick landed painfully on his head and immediately scrabbled to get to his feet. “Get back!” he called. “We've been found out!” He twisted toward the mirror and grabbed it in both hands while Sonne reached down for the loot bag. Only a few gold coins and jewels had spilled from it.
“What are you doing?” Cobner asked.
Not wanting to take time to explain, Wick lifted the mirror and swung it toward the wall. Just before the mirror made contact with the wall, Frostfire flew free and spun through the air. Then the mirror hit the wall and shattered into a thousand gleaming pieces in a rainbow spray of color that filled the drainage ditch.
“There you are!” the sword shrilled. It spun across the intervening space.
“Duck!” Cobner ordered.
Wick ducked, grabbing his head in both hands, knowing he was about to have it shorn from his shoulders. Metal shrieked. Daring to look up even though he didn't want to, Wick saw Boneslicer intercept Frostfire.
“Thief!” the sword yelled, withdrawing and hanging in the air.
“A magic sword?” Cobner asked.
“Nobody mentioned there'd be a magic sword,” Wick complained.
“We didn't know,” Cobner said. Frostfire feinted and drove in, screaming curses. Amazingly the dwarf blocked every attack and the tunnel filled with the clangor of ringing metal.
“I'm gonna get you!” the sword screamed. “I'm gonna get you!”
“By the Old Ones,” Cobner said, “I hate talking weapons. Never know when to shut up.”
“Help!” Frostfire screamed. “Hellllllppppppp! Guards! Thieves! Thieves!”
Sonne handed Wick the loot back, then grabbed his shirt and yanked him into motion. “Run,” she ordered.
Wick ran, heading for the other end of the tunnel as fast as he could go. He didn't doubt that the alarm would be spreading inside the fortress. Kulik Broghan's
guards would converge on them in seconds. The ringing duel followed him, coming quickly.
Outside, Wick ran down the short, steep incline toward the reeds where Craugh, Brandt, and the others waited in a small riverboat. For the moment, they'd decided to leave
One-Eyed Peggie
out in the harbor and try to keep from setting sail with a dozen ships nipping at their heels.
Besides, Sokadir and Deathwhisper were upriver in the Forest of Fangs and Shadows. That was where they needed to go. Provided they escaped.
Wick ran for all he was worth, but his steps got ahead of him and he tripped, spilling down the incline to the river's edge. He held on to the loot bag tightly, losing less than a handful of coins. Rolling to a stop on his back, he looked up at Craugh.
“What's going on?” the wizard asked.
“Magic sword,” Wick said. “Nobody said anything about a magic sword.”
“Well,” Brandt said, lifting the loot bag from Wick's grasp and handing it back to Hamual, “no one mentioned there was a magic sword in the treasure room when I talked with Kulik Broghan.”
Sonne ran from the tunnel, followed by Cobner, who was still battling the magic sword.
Wick tried to get up, then discovered he'd slipped and fallen in mud, thoroughly soaking his clothes. He groaned, then hoped that he lived long enough that wet clothing was the worst of his worries.
An arrow materialized between his feet. He stared at it, then realized it had been fired from above. Swiveling his head back, he looked up at the fortress wall. At least a half dozen archers lined the high wall, letting fly as quickly as they could.
“Shields!” Zelnar, or maybe it was Tyrnen, yelled in warning. He and his twin, joined by the four other dwarves—Baldarn, Volsk, Rithilin, and Charnir—lifted shields to protect everyone.
Arrows thunked into the shields.
Lago reached out of the boat and grabbed Wick by the shirt. “Get in here before you get feathered!” The old dwarf yanked him into the riverboat.
Wick yelped when he hit, collecting several bruises in the process. Getting his life saved wasn't always a gentle process.
“Bah,” Craugh growled, “this is insufferable.” Green embers darted from his eyes as he drew his hand back. A ball of swirling flames formed in his hand. A moment later, he threw the fireball, which swelled in size as it flew at the cluttered archers.
The archers suddenly decided they had other places to be and abandoned their positions. The fireball struck the wall and threw green flames in all directions. The stones blistered and cracked, exploding in a sudden chain.
Sonne reached the hillside then and dove in among the dwarves. Baldarn shifted his shield and caught her in one strong arm, delivering her gently to the bottom of the boat.
“Cobner!” Brandt called.
“I'm busy,” Cobner yelled back, still fighting briskly with the magic sword.
“Lousy, flea-bitten slaves!” Frostfire yelled. “I'm going to get you!”
“Magic sword,” Brandt observed.
“I see that,” Craugh replied. “Nuisance is what it is. I hate magic weapons with personalities. It's the same reason I don't keep a familiar.” He pointed in Cobner's direction. A green beam jetted from his forefinger and slammed against the sword, sending it spinning out of the air to slam into the fortress wall.
“Come on,” Brandt urged.
Cobner turned and ran, skidding and falling down the incline. By that time, Hamual, Sonne, and Karick had bows ready and were firing back at the guards. A man tumbled over the side and hit the ground.
Brandt ran back to the tiller and settled in. Charnir joined him, raising his shield to defend them both. An arrow struck the shield and bounced off.
“Grab hold!” Brandt yelled.
Everyone hunkered down. Wick slid close to the side and took a good hold on the railing.
“Ready, Craugh,” Brandt said.
Immediately, Craugh turned from throwing a second fireball into the midst of a group of guards that had just rounded the corner of the fortress. Several of them were on fire now, screaming and yelling and smoldering as they ran to the river's edge and jumped in.
Craugh threw an open hand toward the riverboat's single sail, which was fluttering a little in the slight breeze. The canvas glowed a pale green, then the sail filled as if it had just grabbed hold of a hurricane. The riverboat took out from the bank like an arrow launched from a bow.
Glancing back, Wick saw some of the surviving guards try to give chase, but they were quickly outdistanced by the magically powered boat. A few last arrows fell short, dropping into the river and thudding into the bank.
Sighing with relief, Wick tried to relax. They'd escaped. Now all they had to do was find Sokadir.
Never-Know Road
T
hey traveled by riverboat and magically summoned wind all night, but toward the end, even Craugh's power was at last beginning to fail him.
“We need to rest,” the wizard said. “I dare not use up all my reserves. We're going to be traveling in hostile territory for a while.”
“Rest,” Brandt said. “You've done more than enough for now.” He glanced back over his shoulder at the dark river behind them. “We haven't seen any signs of pursuit thus far.”
Gradually, the glow faded from the sail and it finally fluttered and died altogether. The thieves grabbed oars and put them into the locks, then started rowing, spelling each other off and on. The rowing was hard because the Chop River was named after the turbulent rush that spilled down it. Wick was convinced that a man walking along the riverbank would make better time than they were.
Only a few hours before dawn, Brandt called an end to it. They put the riverboat into the bank, then crawled out and hauled the craft up into the thick brush that filled the Forest of Fangs and Shadows.
Wick hurt all over and ached for sleep. He could attribute the pain to the falls he'd taken during the night, but he believed that traveling by magic had also done something to his body. He didn't know if he would ever be the same again.
They made a cold camp deep in the forest. Brandt posted four guards and set up a rotation schedule, placing himself and Cobner on alternating shifts. With luck, they would get two
hours' sleep before morning. Wick intended to get all four hours and figured that he'd earned it.
Lago outdid himself by revealing the large picnic baskets he'd packed aboard the riverboat. They contained cold chicken, sweet potatoes, and fresh-baked bread. He'd even packed honey butter and a selection of three preserves, all made fresh while they'd been holed up awaiting Craugh's arrival.
“There isn't anything like snatching your fate from the grinning jaws of death to give a warrior an appetite,” the old dwarf said.
Wick ate a little, but kept falling asleep. Finally giving in to exhaustion, he rolled up in his traveling cloak, laid his head on his arm, and closed his eyes. He was asleep before he took a full breath.
 
 
“Wick, wake up.”
Still half asleep, Wick flailed at the arm that shook him.
“C'mon, little warrior. You don't want to be napping here when Kulik Broghan's men come upriver looking for whoever stole those weapons from his treasure room,” Cobner said.
Wick sighed and reluctantly let go of sleep. It fragmented in his grasp, dissolving like spun sugar. When he blinked his eyes open, he saw that fog had settled in over the forest. Gray vapor pushed between the trees, blunting the distant morning sunlight so that it almost appeared to be twilight.
This
, he thought,
is why they call it the Forest of Fangs and Shadows
.
No one knew why the forest attracted as much fog as it did. Some claimed it was because the Broken Forge Mountains housed a live volcano and because the Gentlewind Sea was so cold. The constantly churning masses of warm air and cold air contributed to the foggy conditions that often held sway over the area.
Lago had three campfires going and was happily moving between the various pots and pans, stirring and turning and mixing. Everything smelled good, but Wick was surprised he was already hungry again after last night's repast.
Brandt and Cobner weren't overly talkative. Each kept their own counsel as they studied the forest with watchful eyes. Their weapons were close to hand.
“Good morning, little artist,” Brandt greeted. “Sleep well?”
“Well enough,” Wick said, “but not nearly long enough.” He helped himself to frying pan biscuits, bacon, and onions and potatoes. Sitting back on his haunches, he turned his attention to his meal.
“Eat all you can,” Craugh advised. “We've got a long walk ahead of us to join the Never-Know Road.”
“Won't Kulik Broghan look for us there?” Wick asked.
“If he or his men are there, we'll wait until the roads are clear.” The wizard ate slowly. This morning he looked worn and haggard. “By now Hallekk will have seen that we were successful and will be bringing Quarrel, Alysta, Bulokk, and his warriors to meet us.”
The plan was for Hallekk and the others to meet them along the Never-Know Road while Craugh and Wick headed on into the Laceleaves Glen territory where
Sokadir was. When they rendezvoused, they would have a stronger force to stand against Kulik Broghan and the Razor's Kiss thieves' guild.
At least, that was the plan.
Craugh still hadn't mentioned how he was going to pull Sokadir out of hiding.
 
 
It took them all day to march through the Forest of Fangs and Shadows to reach the Never-Know Road. The fog finally cleared at midday, but even then the weather never turned warm, but it did lose some of its coolness.
Wick's mind worked constantly as he walked through the forest. He tried not to remember how many vicious beasts and predators roamed the area, but he kept coming back to thinking about bears, wolves, harpies, goblinkin, trolls, spiders, snakes, wild pigs, and dragons. They weren't happy thoughts.
Thankfully, Hamual played his flute from time to time, and the dwarves swapped stories and sang. During the breaks from walking, Wick used the time to work in his journal. Craugh, he noted, kept to himself. If he didn't know how arrogant the wizard was, Wick would have thought Craugh was showing some of the stress they were all under.
Of course, that was ridiculous.
Still, the possibility that Craugh believed they were about to engage something he couldn't completely control left Wick feeling a little queasy.
 
 
Toward dusk, Hamual—who was scouting at the moment—called back to let them know they had to veer to the east instead of continuing north because of a spider colony that had left hammock webs everywhere in the forest. No one argued.
Walking along a ridgeline a fair distance away, Wick spotted the giant spiders crawling through the trees. Their legs spanned eight feet and their bodies were bigger than dwarves, almost as tall as a man.
A short distance ahead, they walked under abandoned nests. Dessicated bodies hung in the silken folds. They were so shriveled and missing so many pieces—really no more than clothing, hair, and bones—that Wick couldn't tell if they were human, elf, dwarf, or dweller.
A few of them were goblinkin. There was no mistaking the death stench that clung to some of the newer ones. Goblinkin smelled even worse dead than alive.
But by nightfall, they reached the Never-Know Road and only had to walk three more miles to reach a waystop.
 
 
The waystop was little more than a wide place in the well-traveled road. Over the years, the Never-Know Road had been beaten and ground down to bedrock. Ruts still marred the surface, but they couldn't go as deep anymore because hooves and boots and bare feet had trod the earth into the consistency of stone.
A lantern hung from a tree to one side of the road. The wide open space and ashes of old campfires showed that a number of people had camped there over the
years. The brush and young trees had also been hacked down to ankle height so that nothing could come creeping out of the forest without being seen. Scavengers and predators had learned to lie in wait along the Never-Know Road, always open to whatever chance brought them.
The group built campfires. Wick sat close to the one he shared with Hamual, Sonne, and Cobner. The warmth pressed against him and he was grateful for it. Tonight promised even lower temperatures than the night before. Lago provided yet another feast, and the grumbling some of them had voiced earlier in the day at having to carry the packs he'd prepared were thrown back in the faces of those who had complained.
None of them talked overlong after they had their bellies full. With so little sleep the night before and all day spent tramping through the woods, they all went to sleep early.
Wick woke only once, to take a turn at guard as he'd volunteered. For a time, he worked by the moonslight in his journal, his ears alert to the slightest sound. He also looked up frequently, aware that the lives of his friends depended on his vigilance.
His shift passed without incident and he had no trouble returning to sleep. But this time his dreams were plagued with memories of the fighting he'd glimpsed of the Battle of Fell's Keep in the vision Craugh's spell had wrought.
 
 
By midday the next day, they caught up to a caravan heading east to meet up with the Steadfast River. There the caravan master would haggle for a couple days with the merchants and traders who'd come upriver to trade goods and buy others they would resell down in Deldal's Mills and farther downriver to Calmpoint. All those goods came by way of the farmlands passed along the way and at the trade fairs established by other traders that carried goods over the Broken Forge Mountains.
Craugh and Brandt negotiated joining up with the caravan for safety's sake, and it was agreed to. They fell in after the last wagon and spent hours walking in the dust before it started to rain that evening and finally the dust was knocked from the air.
When the caravan rested that evening, they sat apart from the rest of the wagons and traders, making their own camp but staying within the safety presented in numbers. Lago took advantage of the availability of trade for food and bargained for more supplies, spending the gold Wick had liberated from Kulik Broghan's treasure room.
Wick thought about joining Craugh and talking to him, but the wizard seemed preoccupied, so he kept with Hamual and Cobner, swapping stories and enjoying one another's company. Wick still missed being at the Vault of All Known Knowledge, but he'd come to enjoy the time spent with his friends—at least, those times he didn't spend running for his life.
“What do you think Craugh's thinking about so hard?” Cobner asked during a lull in the conversation.
Studying the wizard's profile, Wick shook his head. “I don't know.”
“Whatever it is,” Hamual said, fingering his lute, “you know if it's got Craugh thinking about it overmuch, it has to be bad.”
Wick silently agreed.
 
 
Late the next day, they were delayed half a day by a broken wheel on one of the wagons. Since Brandt and Craugh had decided to stay with the caravan for safety and for the disguise it offered, they stopped with it.
With the impromptu break taking place, Wick lounged in the shade offered by the trees. His hands craved his journal and charcoal to capture the scenes of the people talking in groups, trading among themselves, and the caravan master impatiently trying to help the wagon driver replace the wheel.
Finally, unable to handle just sitting any longer, Wick excused himself from Hamual and Cobner's company and approached Craugh. The wizard looked up at him in idle speculation.
“What?” Craugh snapped.
“I thought we'd talk,” Wick said.
“I don't know if that's such a good idea.” Craugh shifted his staff restlessly. “With the mood and condition I'm in, I don't look forward to having my authority undermined at this point and in this place.”
Wick stood on trembling legs, as afraid then as he'd been afraid two nights ago when Frostfire, the magic sword, had unexpectedly come to life in Kulik Broghan's treasure room. “I'm not here to question your authority or judgment, Craugh. I simply wanted to make certain you're all right.”
Craugh continued looking at him suspiciously. “I'm fine.”
“I'm glad.” Wick hesitated, not truly knowing what to say, but feeling that he had to say something. “I didn't mean to undermine your authority on
One-Eyed Peggie
.”
Craugh sighed.
For a moment Wick thought he was going to be turned into a toad just for apologizing.
Heaving himself up from beside the tree where he'd been sitting, Craugh turned toward the forest. “Walk with me.”
“Uh, are you sure you wouldn't rather be alone?” Wick didn't want to take the chance that the wizard was going to take him out into the forest, toadify him, and leave him for the wolves and spiders.
“I want to talk to you.” Craugh waited, looking more impatient by the moment. “There are things I must say.”
Feeling like he was going to throw up, mostly certain he was walking to his doom, Wick joined the wizard. They walked into the forest. At least Cobner, Hamual, and Sonne had noticed that Craugh was walking with him. If he got changed into a toad, maybe they would come catch him and plead with Craugh to change him back. Or at least gather him up so he'd be safe and not get eaten. Wick truly didn't want to be alone in the forest, especially not as a toad.

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