The Wizard and the Warlord (The Wardstone Trilogy Book Three) (22 page)

“Go wait in the council hall,” Cresson told him. “The High King is in the throne room trying to explain to someone why he can’t tell them where someone else is without betraying a trust. He will probably be glad for the interruption.”

Cresson entered the throne room and gave a wave of apology for intruding on Corva and Dostin’s inquiry. He whispered in Mikahl’s ear and then stepped away.

“I’m sorry, there’s urgent business forming,” the High King said. “I’ve already told you all I can. Lord Gregory may be able to tell you more when he returns, but I cannot.” The king excused himself and followed Cresson.

Commander Lyle was pacing back and forth nervously when Cresson and the High King came into the council hall. He was surprised to see the expression on King Mikahl’s face.

“Commander,” the High King smiled. “It amazes me that you could get a wagon cage with two living skeletons in it inside the castle gates without making even the slightest of a stir. I figured the rumormongers would have carried us the tale as soon as you entered the city.”

Commander Lyle blanched. Had Petar not delivered his report? Suddenly he was very worried for the young soldier. The concern must have shown on his face.

“What is it?” King Mikahl asked. His smile had faded.

“I sent a man with a message.” He put a hand on the back of a chair to steady himself. “He should have arrived yesterday at the absolute latest.”

“We received your message about the suspect activities going on in Weir.” King Mikahl looked to Cresson for confirmation. Cresson nodded. “Obviously that is not the report you are referring to.”

Commander Lyle stepped around and collapsed into the chair. “No, Your Highness, I suppose I should tell you everything.”

King Mikahl nodded as he took a seat at the head of the council table. Cresson peeked out the door and waited there as the commander began. After a moment, a tray of refreshments was brought. Cresson took it from the servant and placed it within both the king’s and the commander’s reach. Over an hour later, Mikahl rubbed at his stubbled chin with unhidden concern showing on his face.

“Cresson, get the kingdom map,” King Mikahl said. “The big one. Commander, I want you to show me exactly where you encountered these things, and the trail that you were able to follow.”

Cresson scurried away and quickly returned with a huge map that showed the realm from Westland to Highwander. “The commander located the bridge that crossed the Pixie River and the Highwander town of Xway.” He indicated a straight line from there to just south of Seaward City.

“Mark the line please, Cresson,” King Mikahl said.

The mage traced the commander’s route with his own finger. A faint red line remained visible on the parchment where the digit passed.

Mikahl studied the direction of the mark for a moment. “Now make a line that leaves South Port in Westland going due east into the marshes. Then make a line going southeast from the town of Riverbend in northern Westland.” The High King looked at Commander Lyle for a moment, clearly focused on his thoughts. His eyes brightened. “Extend all three marks until they intercept.”

They watched with growing concern as the marks came together.

“It seems that General… Lord Spyra, rather, was correct in his assumption,” Cresson observed. “The lines all lead to the Dragon Tooth Spire.”

“Somehow, something from the hells is calling these undead skeletons to the Spire.” Mikahl shook his head. “I suspect that your man Petar was either killed, or he found a trail to follow. Either way, I think the answer to this threat lies at the Fang.”

***

High King Mikahl suddenly remembered something from the ceremony he, the elf Corva, and the mighty monk had interrupted. The sacrifice. The girl had just vanished. No, he decided, she was just a body the priest was going to sacrifice. Why else had her body been shaved of all its hair? The odds of her escaping the snapper-filled marshland were so slim that Mikahl let that train of thought go. The ceremony had been far to the north of the Dragon Spire. He remembered that the great seal Pavreal had made in the dragon’s lair up there had been the point where Pael had breached the Nethers and let loose the power of Shokin. It was that same power that turned all those men into undead skeletons in the first place. It was possible that some lingering magical effect was drawing them there. Or maybe one of the demons still running loose was rooted into the lair and calling them. Either way, something had to be done about it before the situation was out of hand.

It still left the question of what happened to their man Petar. Mikahl knew the young man from the training yard. He was no slouch with the blade and had the kind of self-discipline off the field that commanded the respect of his superiors. There was no reason to believe that Petar would abandon his orders. However, Mikahl could see him going off half-riled, trying to take down the things that had attacked their party and killed his friends.

“Cresson, I want you to cast a sending to every wizard, mage, and marsh witch from O’Dakahn all the way to Pearsh,” Mikahl said, running his finger up the eastern bank of the Leif Greyn River delta on the map. “Petar and his four men are to be sought out and intercepted. If they are alive, I don’t want them going off into the marshes alone. I want men from O’Dakahn to search the edge of the marsh for any sign of man or beast that shouldn’t be there. I want our people in Strond, Oktin, and Lokahn questioned to find out if Petar and his men crossed the Kahan river. I want every man in the realm on the lookout for those skeletons, too. They attacked a large group of men under my banner. I doubt they will hesitate to attack a village full of innocents, or a trade caravan.” He turned to Commander Lyle. “Tell this Lieutenant Garret I want him and the men from Weir to ride directly to Xwarda. Queen Willa will take their statements. I think a dozen-man escort should do. Tell him that, once this mess with Lord Vidian has been settled, Queen Willa or I will see to his next posting personally.” He took a deep breath and indicated for Cresson to begin with his sendings. The mage studied the map for a few more moments then moved to a corner of the room and began chanting and moving his hands about quietly.

“Commander Lyle, I want you to pick out a small group who can track and travel fast. Five or six men at the most. Backtrack from here and search for the place where Petar left the road. You told them to mark their trail obviously. I’m sure he did so.”

Commander Lyle stood and gave a curt bow.

“I will be leaving for Westland on the morrow, Commander,” the High King said. “Until Lord Gregory returns from his current endeavor you will report to me directly through Cresson. Do not move to attack these undead things. If you find nothing between here and the last place you saw Petar, return immediately and Cresson will give you my commands.”

Commander Lyle nodded again and performed a smart about-face, then left the room to carry out his orders. King Mikahl went to the closet in the council hall where he kept some personal items and fumbled through them. He waited until Cresson was between spells before he spoke. “I’m going to investigate the Dragon’s Tooth,” he said as he pulled a shirt of chain mail over his head. He refastened his swordbelt at his waist over the armor and went to draw the blade.

“What should I tell the Queen?” Cresson asked with a look bordering on fear coming over him. “The two of you are due to leave in the morning.”

“If I’m not back, she is to leave without me. There is a small army escorting our carriage. She will be safe.”

Cresson made a sour face. “It’s not her safety that is in question. It’s the foul mood she will be in when she learns of this.”

Mikahl let out a long sigh, knowing the truth of it. “I will go speak with her.” He smiled at the way relief washed visibly over the mage’s expression. “You have enough to do without having to deal with the wrath of the High Queen as well.”

As Mikahl strode toward the door he wondered why flying off to the Dragon Spire to confront some unknown enemy alone didn’t frighten him, yet going to tell his wife that he might not be there when she left for Westland in the morning unnerved him to no end.

Corva was just about to reveal to King Mikahl that Telgra was the daughter of the elven Queen Mother, but the human mage interrupted him. He’d refrained from telling the High King this in their first two meetings because of the fact that the knowledge, once made public, could bring about terrible repercussions to the elven kingdom. Corva was certain that King Mikahl had a good heart and had no intention of bringing harm to the elves, but there were the rest of the courtiers there and the strange mage as well. He tried to speak to the High King alone, but the castle was always a flurry of activity. The High King barely seemed to have time to breathe. If a not so honorable person learned of Telgra’s identity, she could be captured and ransomed or worse. With such leverage, a few humans might be able to turn the wrath of the Queen Mother against whomever they desired.

Telgra was the heir to the entire elven kingdom, and the position was one that no other elf could ever fill. More than an inherited title, the line of Queen Mothers had a special bond with the earth and the forest that no other could obtain. They were deeply connected to the Heart of Arbor. Telgra’s powers, as she matured, would become incomprehensible to even the most learned elf. The current Queen Mother would not hesitate to make war on all mankind to protect her lineage. Thus Corva kept his tongue. He would have told the High King in private, but now the long-bearded mage was saying that King Mikahl was going, and that he would not be returning until winter was over.

The hospitality of the red castle had been extended to Corva and Dostin indefinitely. They could stay and wait in relative luxury for Lord Gregory to return. Dostin said he’d met the Lion Lord last summer when the man and his wife had visited the Isle of Salaya. It was on that very trip that the High King accidentally caused the fairy trees to bloom with his sword.

By using his keen senses, Corva managed to ascertain that Telgra was ultimately on a quest to the Leif Repline fountain. They were supposedly spending the winter months in some place so secretive that no one would reveal its location. She was traveling with a dwarf and a boy who’d been curiously spelled to stone.

There was an elven fable about the magical fountain and the creature that guarded it from abuse, but Corva couldn’t remember it. All he could recall was that the place was deep in the treacherous Giant Mountains and that the beast hadn’t sounded all that terrible by its description. The journey was no doubt dangerous. He felt that he had to find her and talk some sense into her. He couldn’t imagine what she was thinking.

King Mikahl was being so tight-lipped about her that Corva had to respect his resolve. The king‘s explanation that he would be breaking his word to someone if he revealed where they were spending the winter was completely understandable. Corva had made similar promises in his life. He was frustrated beyond reason. Cresson said that she might have sent a message into the Evermore to be left at Vaegon’s Glade, but the mage wasn’t certain, and no one could say what the missive said. The question was, would Lord Gregory, upon his return, tell them where the others were spending the winter? Corva concluded that, if he couldn’t find out where Telgra was holing up, he would have no choice but to return to the Evermore Forest and face the Queen Mother with what he knew.

The idea of adventuring through the dangerous mountains with a dwarf, a person made of stone, and the legendary wizard Hyden Hawk intrigued him enough that he was envious of Telgra. If he found her before winter was over, and saw that she was reasonably safe, he could see himself going along on such a quest. Only if she was safe.

After waiting in the throne room for an hour, then finding out from the mage that the High King was no longer in Dreen, Corva decided that there was still a lot he could accomplish. There were stablemen who could be questioned, wagon loaders, guardsmen, and gate keepers. All of them were seemingly befuddled by his appearance. He could use that. Someone had to know where they had gone.

Dostin had stood patiently beside him throughout the morning session of the High King’s court without complaint. Corva had become attached to the monk’s loyalty. With a warm smile and a pat on Dostin’s back, he suggested that the two of them find something to eat and a private place to talk. Corva found that Dostin’s simple outlook on things often helped him make decisions. Dostin would no doubt again ask him a dozen different questions pertaining to why no one would tell them where Telgra had gone. Corva would answer. Dostin would ask more questions, and in the process of answering them, either Corva would find a new idea to help find a solution, or the solution would be there in one of Dostin’s simplistic queries.

They found a servant and asked if there was food available and if there was a place they could sit and talk quietly. The man showed them to a dimly torchlit hall used mostly for the staff. The weathered wooden table seated ten and had dirty plates and bowls piled upon it. The servant quickly tidied an area and hung a lantern on the wall nearby. He scurried away after telling them that he would return soon with some food and wine.

The two spoke while they ate, mostly Corva answering Dostin’s questions. Several members of the castle staff stopped in to take away dishes or clean the table and floor. It became clear that they were trying to get a glimpse of an elf without being obvious.

No sooner did they finish their meal than Lady Trella backed into the room as if she were trying to flee someone. She pulled the door to and stood there for a long moment, peering out of the crack. When she turned, she yelped out in fright. She hadn’t seen the two sitting there watching her.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, blushing brightly and trying to avoid the elf’s gaze. “I hope I didn’t intrude. I um… I was uh…”

“Hello, my lady,” Dostin said. He half stood and bowed his head. “You aren’t bothering us at all.”

“Are you all right?” Corva asked, standing. “Is someone after you?”