Lost City Page 27

“Anyone ever see a distinct tree such as that?” Breslin asked.

  Tristofer shook his head. “If that tree is drawn to scale then we have a major problem.”

  Breslin groaned. “What now? Out with it, scholar.”

  “Well, look at the tree. According to the Lukas’ back it’s just as tall and broad as Drammli Falls. If that were the case then I’m sure we would know all about it. Someone would have reported seeing it. Therefore I see three possibilities. First, either someone has seen the tree and is managing to keep it hidden. Second, the tree is that size but exists in another kingdom altogether. Or three, the tree has been embellished and in reality, is actually much smaller. Of those choices, I’m inclined to believe the third.”

  Breslin nodded. “I concur. I would also like to point out a fourth possibility. The tree did exist, but doesn’t anymore. Uprooted, struck down, or else burned down. The method matters not, only that the tree could have been destroyed. Athos, Venk, what say you?”

  Venk stared at his son’s back. As reluctant as he was to agree with Tristofer, he had to believe if a tree of that size had been discovered, someone would have said something about it. With regard to all the places they’ve been thus far on this adventure, none of the items had taken them out of Lentari, so he didn’t believe the tree existed in any other kingdom. Therefore, the tree had to exist here in Lentari. The illustration must be sized incorrectly.

  “The other sections of the map were accurate. The tree must exist somewhere.”

  “I’d like to remind everyone that the hammer head had been left in the rock on the cliff face and that it broke off and fell to the sea. Thankfully it hadn’t sunk into the water. I don’t think we can rule out the possibility of the tree being destroyed.”

  “Provided we can’t find it, I would agree,” Breslin added.

  “For the sake of argument, let’s assume the tree exists,” Venk argued. “The size can’t possibly be right. Therefore it must not be drawn to scale.”

  Athos nodded thoughtfully. “I’ll go along with that.”

  “So how do we find this tree?” Breslin wanted to know. “Anyone have any ideas?”

  “Who is the foremost expert on trees?” Venk asked as he looked over his shoulder at the scholar. “Who do you recommend, Tristofer?”

  Tristofer was silent as he considered.

  “Logically I would suggest that we visit a library and look it up. However, how do we do something like that without arousing suspicion? Besides, I don’t think consulting one of our libraries is the wisest move we could make.”

  “Why not?” Athos demanded.

  “Do the Kla Guur have many trees in their city?”

  Athos’ mouth closed with a snap.

  “Judging from your expression,” Tristofer continued, “I will assume Borahgg has just as many trees as Bykram.”

  “So what do you suggest? We find a human library?”

  Tristofer shook his head. “Of course not. To utilize a human library would create an open invitation for the humans to ask questions about the nature of our mission. So the answer there is a resounding ‘no’.”

  “Do you have any idea how many trees must be in Lentari?” Venk asked, frowning. “How are we supposed to find this one? It’s like looking for a needle in a giant haystack. If it was as large as the picture depicts, then we might have a chance in finding it. As it happens, it sounds like all of us feel that the tree isn’t drawn to scale. So it could be anywhere in Lentari. Perhaps if we –”

  “I don’t know about the rest of you,” Athos suddenly interrupted, “but I am damn tired of walking. We need to know exactly where we’re going so we’re not traipsing around Lentari looking for this blasted tree. Know what I mean, Tristofer?”

  The scholar’s smile vanished instantly.

  “It was one time. One time! Are you ever going to forget that I led you to the wrong lake?”

  Athos, Venk, and Breslin all shook their heads no.

  “I think what Athos is trying to delicately say,” Venk translated, “is to be as certain of the destination as you can be because it wouldn’t be good for you to guide us to someplace like Capily over on the west coast and then have it revealed we are nowhere close to where we should be.”

  Tristofer nodded. “I agree. Thankfully in this case, I don’t have enough data to offer a valid destination.”

  “What do you suggest?” Breslin asked him. “What should we do next?”

  “The fact remains we need to ask for help. The question is, who? Who can we ask? Better yet, who can we trust?”

  “What about Rhamalli?” Lukas asked as he dropped his shirt back into place and turned around. “He has really good eyesight. He flies really fast. Do you think he’d look for us?”

  The adults hesitated. Should they ask the dragon for help yet again? How would it appear to the others if it became common knowledge that they couldn’t successfully complete their mission without constant wyverian help?

  Venk looked at Breslin.

  “Your call.”

  Breslin tugged on his beard as he considered Lukas’ suggestion. With a resounding shrug, he turned to the underling.

  “This is your quest, Master Lukas. It’s your idea. I leave the final decision in your hands.”

  Unaccustomed to having an adult ask for his opinion, Lukas glanced at his companions. Every single adult was gazing back at him, awaiting his decision.

  “The more eyes we have searching, the better,” Lukas slowly said, remembering all the times his father had him and his sister searching for mislaid tools in his workshop. “I say we ask Rhamalli for help.”

  Breslin nodded. “Very well. We ask for help. Hopefully the dragon is still in the area.”

  “Suggesting I have something better to do?” came the dragon’s dry response.

  Breslin laughed. “Well, do you?”

  “Clearly not.”

  “Have you seen the tree on Lukas’ back?”

  “I have not.”

  “Come down here then so we can show you. We need to find this tree.”

  “Trying to find a single tree out of so many is akin to locating a specific blade of grass in a meadow.”

  “Are you saying you can’t find it?”

  Rhamalli’s deep voice sounded from behind them, startling them all.

  “If given enough time, and enough perseverance, anything can be found.”

  “How do you do that?” Athos asked again. “Move with such stealth. Is that something all dragons can do?”

  “What?”

  “Sneak up on others as quietly as you can.”

  “That was not even close to being quiet. My wings disturbed the air and rustled the grass as I landed. My scales ground together as I moved, which created quite a disturbance.”

  The dwarves eyed each other. “Did anyone hear anything?”

  Venk and Athos both shook their heads. Tristofer had returned to studying the hammer head.

  “Perhaps the sounds of your own breathing disguised my arrival?”

  “Are you saying we’re breathing too loud?”

  Rhamalli shrugged. The scales of his torso rippled outward as he shrugged, yet no one was able to hear any type of noise from his scales sliding against one another.

  “Besides your breathing, there are other stimuli present which can fool the senses.”

  It was Athos’ turn to shrug. He pointed at his nephew. “Whatever. Have you ever seen this tree before? Lukas, show him your back.”

  Lukas sighed and showed the dragon his back. Rhamalli glanced at the now complete mark covering Lukas’ back. The dragon shook his head.

  “I have not seen a tree like that before.”

  “Think you could locate it if you flew over it?” Tristofer asked.

  Rhamalli shook his massive head. “At the speed I fly, I could pass right over that tree and not know whether or not it was the right one. Based on the illustration, tha
t tree will be identifiable by looking at its trunk. I can only see the treetop as I pass overhead. My gaze can penetrate the treetops if I stare at the same area long enough. However, in order to do that I would have to fly too slow to be useful. I do not think I would be able to render much assistance here.”

  Breslin nodded. “I understand. We’ll have to figure out something else.”

  “Like what?” Venk wanted to know.

  “As my father always told me when I was little,” Breslin said, “we’ll have to look it up. Tristofer is right. We need a library.”

  “Which one?” Venk asked. “The library in our city won’t be of much help.”

  “Do all dwarves live deep in the mountains?” Rhamalli suddenly asked.

  Breslin shrugged. “As far as I’m aware. Why?”

  “Is it rare for dwarves to be seen on the surface?” the red dragon continued.

  “Unless said dwarves are on a quest,” Athos mumbled softly.

  “We choose to remain underground because that’s where we thrive,” Breslin explained to Rhamalli. “We work the stone. We mine. We dig. We explore. It’s who we are.”

  “Why do you ask?” Venk wanted to know.

  “When we were searching for the Zweigelan earlier, several dwarves were spotted.”

  “Are you sure they were dwarves?” Breslin asked, curious. “They were probably just humans.”

  “Wearing leather armor, bearded, with axes strapped to their back?”

  That drew Breslin up short.

  “Where?”

  Rhamalli’s long red neck lifted up and he looked south.

  “There, about three hours as the dragon flies.”

  “That would be my clan,” Tristofer admitted. “Kla Rehn. My home city, Bykram, lies that way.”

  Breslin stared at the scholar. “Your clan frequently ventures Topside?”

  Tristofer shrugged.

  “Why didn’t you say so before?”

  “I didn’t realize someone had asked. Sorry. Must’ve missed it.”

  Breslin eyed the scholar. “I’ll bet you did. Hmmm. It sounds as though your clan is the closest. I assume they have a library. I can tell you that after having spent what feels like years in Borahgg’s library, I know they don’t have a, er, there isn’t a section devoted to, well, to trees, so...”

  “Dendrology,” Tristofer interrupted.

  “What?”

  “The term is ‘dendrology’. The study of trees.”

  “Fine, whatever. Borahgg’s library does not have a dendrology section, and having heard Venk say that there isn’t much in their city’s library either, I’m forced to conclude we’re going to have to try our luck with one of them. Since a human library isn’t an option then we must make for a clan library. We just learned yours is the closest, Tristofer. Therefore, yours is the only viable option.”

  “Bad idea,” Tristofer told them with a frown. “I’m telling you, there isn’t anything useful there.”

  “Is there something you’re not telling us?” Athos asked the scholar. “I’d rather face a cave full of guur, unarmed, than spend any amount of time in a room full of books. Every time I step foot in a library I have to find the closest chamber pot.”

  Venk sighed loudly and rolled his eyes. Lukas giggled.

  “So what’s wrong with yours that you don’t want to go there?” Venk wanted to know.

  “Will you just trust me? I’m trying to prevent everyone from making a useless trip. Mine may be the closest library, but I still say the human library in R’Tal would be a better choice.”

  Breslin shook his head. “Absolutely not. I will not take that chance.”

  “So how far away is your clan?” Athos grumpily asked Tristofer. He was not relishing the thought of spending the next several days walking. If it would take Rhamalli three hours of solid flying to reach it, how long would it take them? “Just tell me plainly. How close are they?”

  Tristofer smiled as he sensed an opportunity to dissuade others from making the trip. “They are at the southeastern tip of Lentari. The terrain from here to there is very rugged. No paths, no roads, and certainly no help if we need it. Perhaps we should...”

  “No,” Breslin interrupted. “We’re going. Everyone pack your gear. I want to be at least five leagues from here before the sun sets.”

  In truth, they only made it three, but it was still more than an adequate start. They had passed the western road leading to Donlari just under two hours ago, and the snow covered peaks of the Selekais had just become visible on the southern horizon. Also visible was the beginnings of the forest, but it was at least another three leagues away.

  Breslin looked at the open prairie with disgust. Aside from the distant edge of the forest, there wasn’t a single tree to be found. If they were going to make camp here they’d do so knowing they were completely out in the open and exposed to anyone that might be passing by. Either they were going to have to post a guard or else...

  “Didn’t the sack of spells Shardwyn gave us have one that was for protection?”

  Venk, who had been sitting on his pack while the group decided what to do, stood up and retrieved the spell bag. Pulling out the two remaining spheres, he studied the symbols etched onto the surface of each spell. One had a tiny shield, the other a rain drop.

  “I think so. This one has a shield on it.” He handed the spell to Breslin. “Are you going to use it?”

  “Wonderful,” Athos mumbled. “Who knows what that crackpot wizard is going to do to us this time?”

  “We’re out in the open,” Breslin snapped. “Unless you want to take the first watch, I suggest you keep quiet.”

  Athos shrugged.

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. I’m exhausted. You’re beat. Everyone is. We could all use a good twelve hours of rest. Everyone ready?”

  Venk and Lukas blearily nodded their heads. Tristofer snapped awake and nodded his agreement, too, even though he didn’t know what he was agreeing to.

  Breslin invoked the spell and waited with baited breath to see what would happen. A few moments passed. Nothing. He stared at his hand. The sphere was gone. Something must have happened!

  “What are we waiting for?” Athos asked tiredly.

  “I’m not sure. The spell is gone. It did something, but I just can’t tell what. That scares me more than the guur ever could.”

  Athos grunted. After nothing else happened in the next ten seconds, he decided to pull his ground cover from his pack and began scouting for the best location to set up his bed roll.

  A flash of blue light temporarily blinded everyone as Athos was thrown violently backwards. The blue light flashed again and he was then thrown forward, but angled down. He impacted heavily onto the grass.

  Pushing fatigue aside, Venk quickly rolled to his feet. He had pulled his crossbow and Breslin had pulled out his axe, both at the same time.

  “Wizards be damned! What was that? Is Athos alright?”

  Breslin hurried over to the still form of Athos and chuckled.

  “He’s snoring.”

  “What hit him?”

  Breslin shook his head. “Unknown. Wait. Let me try something.”

  He selected a small nearby rock and tossed it towards the area Athos had originally been heading towards. The rock sailed about fifteen feet before the blue light flashed and flung the rock back the way it came. Breslin neatly snatched the rock out of the air before it could hit the other wall and bounce again, which unfortunately was what had happened to Athos.

  “I’m beginning to see the nature of Shardwyn’s spell,” Breslin told Venk. “Let me see how big of an area we have here.”

  Breslin tossed the stone at random spots around their camp. He managed to catch the rock most of the times it was bounced back towards him.

  “The shield is about thirty feet in diameter,” he reported. “Let’s hope no one sleep walks.�
�

  Tristofer grunted sleepily. He collapsed onto his bed roll and was snoring within seconds.

  Venk approached Breslin and looked anxiously back at his son, who was already asleep. “Any idea how long the spell will last?”

  Breslin shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. Let’s hope until morning at least.”

  “What if it doesn’t wear off by then?”

  “We’ll worry about that if it comes to it.”

  The following morning came. And went. The dwarves, intent on replenishing their depleted energy reserves, slept well past sunrise and were only awakened when a flock of tiny purple kytes decided to inspect the quiet campsite to see if any morsels, tidbits, or juicy insects could be found.

  Lukas awoke to find himself in the middle of a musical concert of trills, chirps, and whistles. Everywhere he looked he could see little purple birds. They were hopping all over their campsite, rooting around in their packs, scrambling over their weapons, even perching on those that were still asleep; a fluffy kyte was sitting precariously on his uncle’s nose.

  Lukas nudged his father awake.

  “Look! There are kytes everywhere!”

  Venk blinked a few times and then tried to rub the sleep out of his eyes. He smirked as he watched his brother absentmindedly swat at his face. Evidently the kyte perched on Athos’ nose was tickling him with its feathers. Every time Athos swiped his arm the kyte would take to the air, only to return moments later when the sleeper went still again.

  “I would say that the protection spell has definitely worn off,” Breslin said as he noticed the antics between Athos and the kyte. He stretched his stiff back and glanced around their camp at the flurry of avian activity. “Did someone sprinkle some seed? Where did all these kytes come from?”

  Venk shrugged. He and Lukas began stowing their gear.

  “You have precisely five seconds to get off my nose unless you want to become breakfast,” a gravelly voice suddenly barked out.

  The purple kyte tweeted in alarm. It rose into the air, but not before it deposited a tell tale symbol of its displeasure. Unfortunately for Athos, it landed in his open mouth.

  “Gah! You wretched, disgusting, vile tuft of feathers!”

  Grinning from ear to ear, Venk tossed his water bag to his brother.

  The rest of the tiny birds rose into the air and circled high in the sky. The flock coalesced into a writhing mass of hundreds of purple birds as it circled round and round. When it became clear the section of ground was not going to return to its docile state any time soon, the flock moved off.

  Athos gargled another mouthful of water and spat it out.

  “That... that...”

  “Was a crappy way to start the day?” Venk wryly asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “Ha ha. Missed your calling. Should’ve been a jester.”

  Venk smiled again. He pointed at Athos’ beard. “Might want to wash your beard out.”

  “What? You’ve got to be kidding!”

  As Athos upended the water bag over his beard, Venk helped Breslin and Tristofer stow their gear back into their packs. After a quick meal of dried meat they resumed their trek south.

  “It sure is a nice day, isn’t it?” Tristofer commented.

  “If I hear you say how wonderful this day is one more time, scholar,” Athos growled, “I’ll personally make you eat that book you’re holding.”

  Tristofer hurriedly put his copy of his favorite book, Klondaeg – The Monster Hunter, a story about a fearless dwarf monster killer, back into his jacket pocket. While certain Athos would never make him actually eat the book, he wasn’t about to press his luck with the irritable brother, either.

  “What did I tell you?” Breslin’s voice was heard saying. “We made the forest before midday. I told you we could do it.”

  “Only because we had you nagging us the entire time,” Athos grumped.

  “We finally get to put this infernal sea behind us,” Breslin pointed out. “Doesn’t that make you happy?”

  “I don’t think anything you say would please him right now,” a deep familiar voice said.

  Breslin shook his head. He looked up. As expected, the dragon was nowhere in sight. “How long have you been following us this time, Rhamalli?”

  “I never left.”

  “You mean you could have carried us here the first time? Why didn’t you?” Athos demanded.

  “You never asked.”

  “I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but could you carry us all there? As much as I don’t want to fly again, I really don’t want to spend the next several days walking, either.”

  “Carry five dwarves? Easily.”

  “Will you carry us the rest of the way?”

  “Not without running the risk of dropping one of you. Dwarves are small. You might slip through my claws so I might unconsciously clasp my talons together more tightly than I should. I’d feel terrible if I knew that I had squished you all to jelly. Therefore I’d prefer not to do that.”

  “Appreciated by all,” Athos murmured, impressed that Rhamalli had clearly given some thought to trying to carry them all to the Kla Rehn’s city.

  “Do you have any idea how revolting that’d be?” Rhamalli continued. He glided in from the east and touched down gently next to the walking dwarves. His long serpentine tail twitched. “I’d have to clean dwarf goo off my scales. How disgusting.”

  Venk clapped his hands over his son’s ears.

  “Would you stop talking about turning us into goo?”

  Rhamalli fell silent.

  “Thank you. I’m with Breslin when it comes to flying, but I’m also in agreement about not walking all the way to Bykram. So, let me ask you something. What if we could guarantee that you wouldn’t drop any of us? Then would you carry us to Bykram and save us from another several days of walking?”

  Two wyverian eyes fell upon the dwarf wearing the red leather armor.

  “I’m listening.”

  “What if we were to build something that all of us could fit in? We wouldn’t be riding on your back and all you’d have to do is carry it.”

  Rhamalli considered. “Like a cage?”

  “You’re not getting me in any cage,” Athos stated flatly.

  Venk shook his head. “I’m thinking more along the lines of a basket.”

  Athos thoughtfully nodded. “I see where you’re going with this. A large basket that we could all sit in, with a handle. The dragon could then carry us without fear of injury to one of us.”

  “That sounds like an awful lot of work,” Breslin observed. “Is it worth it? Bykram isn’t that much farther away, is it?”

  Tristofer shook his head no. “Not only is it nowhere close to here, there aren’t any roads leading directly there. I may not be a carpenter, but I’ll help build this device in whatever fashion that I can if it will prevent us from taking another step.”

  An hour later Venk handed the scholar a small ax and pointed to the growing pile of branches.

  “Strip these of all smaller branches. Make them as clean as possible. We’ll be sitting on these and I’m sure you don’t want any broken branches poking us in the butt.”

  Tristofer hefted the ax and eyed the large pile of branches. He nodded. “I think I can handle that.”

  “Good. Breslin and I will start building the frame of the basket while Athos continues to gather wood.”

  “What can I do?” Lukas asked.

  Venk pulled one of his daggers off his belt and handed it hilt first to his son. “Help Tristofer. The sooner these branches are stripped the sooner we get the basket built.”

  Working together the basket was constructed in just under two hours. Once the large tightly woven container had been completed, the five dwarves broke for lunch while Rhamalli continued to circle lazily in the sky.

  “We should have thought of this sooner,” Breslin exclaimed once he was seated in the basket and
clutching his pack tightly on his lap.

  Venk and Athos joined him moments later. Athos leaned over the lip of the basket and pulled his nephew in. Tristofer extended his arm and waited for someone to give him a hand as well. Breslin sighed inwardly and then grasped the scholar’s hand. He was surprised to learn that he could barely pull Tristofer up the side of the basket.

  “What the blazes are you holding?” Breslin puffed out. “A bag of rocks?”

  “It’s just my pack. There might be one or two books in there.”

  “Did you keep all those books you stole from the Zweigelan?”

  “I didn’t steal them. I borrowed them. I didn’t want to leave them behind. I still don’t.”

  “If Rhamalli says there’s too much weight in here, and something has to go, then I’m personally tossing it over the side whether or not you’re holding on.”

  Once they had given Rhamalli the signal that the basket was loaded and they were ready to depart, all the dwarves were slammed against the basket floor as the dragon swooped in to snatch them off the ground, all while refusing to decrease the speed at which he was flying. Higher and higher they rose into the air as Rhamalli hefted the unwieldy basket clutched tightly in his front left claws. Once the dragon had reached a comfortable altitude for flying, he banked right and headed south.

  Lukas made a move to stand in the swaying basket but was violently yanked back down by his father.

  “Not on your life, boy,” Venk warned. “Stay down.”

  “But I want to see what’s below! Join me! We’re safe in here. What do you have to lose?”

  “My lunch.”

  Lukas smiled down at his father and his uncle, who were both gripping the sides of the basket so tightly that their knuckles had gone white. The underling glanced at the other two adults and noticed they, too, did not appear to be enjoying the trip. Breslin’s eyes were screwed shut, and his face even looked a little green.

  Lukas dropped to his knees and sat companionably next to Breslin.

  “Are you alright?”

  “Incredible. I miss Lady Sarah.”

  “You do? I thought you didn’t like to be teleported?” Athos reminded him. His stomach, already on questionable speaking terms with him, clenched tighter at the thought of the female Nohrin’s sudden teleportation jumps.

  “I don’t. But I’m willing to risk it if we could avoid the prolonged hell we’re in now. I don’t know how much more my stomach can take.”

  “Who is Lady Sarah?” Rhamalli’s deep voice cut in.

  “You should know her,” Breslin scolded. “She’s the human woman from another world that healed all you dragons that were hurt by those mechanical monsters.

  Rhamalli nodded. “Of course. I should have known.”

  “She, along with her husband, Sir Steve, make up the Nohrin, protectors of the young human prince. Her jhorun is teleportation. She could teleport large groups of people clear across the kingdom if she wanted to.”

  “What don’t you like about teleporting?” the dragon asked.

  “It’s a terrible jolt to the system. It’s the same problem I have with flying: queasiness.”

  “So you probably wouldn’t like it if I did this?”

  Rhamalli suddenly lurched to the left and then quickly to the right before righting himself and leveling off.

  Athos, Breslin, and Tristofer all slapped hands over their mouths. Lukas stared intently at his uncle and then Breslin.

  “You look as though you’re about to be sick,” Lukas pointed out. “Don’t worry. We’re making great progress. Do you see how fast the trees are moving by underneath us? From up here it looks as though the forest is alive. Look! It’s like the treetops have become rippling waves! Up, down, up, down, and now left to right.”

  Breslin leapt to his feet and was barely able to get his head over the side of the basket before he sent his lunch down to the forest floor.

  Tristofer clapped a hand over his mouth and looked away.

  “What?” Breslin demanded, as he wiped his mouth with the back of a sleeve. “Haven’t you ever seen someone get sick before?”

  Tristofer hastily nodded. He had closed his eyes and was humming loudly to himself.

  Venk smiled.

  “Fighting the urge to taste your lunch for a second time?”

  Tristofer nodded again.

  “Get your mind off of it,” Venk told him. “Think about something else.”

  “Like what?” Tristofer whispered between huge gasps of air.

  “Like what the plan is once we reach Bykram. This is your home city. How are you going to handle it?”

  “As discreetly as possible,” Tristofer answered, still breathing heavily. “A former teacher of mine is our best bet. We didn’t always see eye to eye but at least we respected one another.”

  “I assume he’s still alive?” Athos asked, looking rather pale himself.

  Tristofer shrugged. “I hope so.”

  The basket shook violently for a few seconds as Rhamalli was buffeted by several strong air currents. Ten seconds later they were peacefully gliding south once more.

  “When’s the last time you were home?” Breslin asked, desperate to keep his mind off of what the dragon was doing and the fact that he knew just how far off the ground they presently were.

  Tristofer twirled the tip of his beard around his finger. “Let’s see. I’d say it’s been at least a hundred years.”

  “Since you’ve returned to your home city??”

  Tristofer shook his head. “No, since I left the city.”

  “And you haven’t returned home since? Why?”

  “We didn’t always see eye to eye.”

  “Who’s the ‘we’ you’re talking about?” Venk inquired.

  Tristofer shrugged. “The Council.”

  “What didn’t they see eye to eye with you about?” Breslin asked.

  “Oh, it’s nothing, really.”

  “More like it’s nothing you’d like to talk about, is that it?”

  Tristofer shrugged again. “It wasn’t important. I left and haven’t regretted my decision.”

  “Except for now,” Venk reminded him.

  The scholar ignored him.

  Several hours later Rhamalli informed them that they were approaching a small valley in which several dwarves had previously been seen in. Breslin, Venk, and Athos actually observed two dwarves dive into several nearby bushes as Rhamalli deposited the basket near the northern edge of the valley. The dragon verified the basket and its cargo were unharmed before retreating back into the sky. The great red dragon turned to look back at the small group of dwarves as he strove to put as much distance between himself and the ground as possible.

  “I trust you’ll signal if you need my assistance.”

  Breslin gave the dragon a look of disgust before Rhamalli disappeared into the clouds. He shook his head as he glanced angrily at the two brothers.

  “What was that supposed to mean? That we can’t look out for ourselves? We don’t need a wyverian protector, thank you very much.”

  “Speak for yourself,” Tristofer argued. “I’m actually glad he’s looking out for us. He’s gotten us out of several predicaments already.”

  Breslin sighed and gave the valley a quick, cursory glance. “Where now, Tristofer? This is your home city. Where’s the door? Better yet, where’d those two we saw disappear to?”

  Tristofer pointed to the right. “See that large broken stump there to the west? That’s the main entrance.”

  Athos looked at the huge jagged stump and strode towards it, motioning for the others to follow.

  “You’d think they would try and conceal their door a bit better than that.”

  Tristofer looked up at him with a blank expression on his face.

  “Why do you say that? What’s wrong with the door?”

  “Look at the size of the trunk. There are no other trees around here ev
en close to that size. The fact that the trunk hides a door is blatantly obvious.”

  Tristofer crossed his arms over his chest. “Well, it’s not like we were... watch out!!”

  Athos had pulled an orix free from his chest bandolier and hurled it off. It zipped perilously close to the scholar, which had caused him to react with alarm. The green weapon spun away from them on its elliptical orbit, disappearing into the dense foliage southeast of the broken stump. They all heard a distinct metallic clang followed shortly thereafter by a cry of pain.

  “It’s considered rude to eavesdrop on someone,” Athos called loudly to the bushes. “Even more so when you’re spying on guests.”

  Two dwarves emerged from the thicket, one holding a metal helmet with a fresh dent in it. He was rubbing his ears as though he was still hearing the clang of the orix colliding with the helmet. Both dwarves were dressed in black tunics and khaki trousers. Neither was armed, but they could see several tools hanging on their belts, including a large hammer swinging on their hips.

  “We weren’t spying,” the first dwarf said crossly as he inspected his damaged helmet. He pulled his hammer from his belt, flipped the helmet over, and gave it several whacks from his hammer. Satisfied that the dent had been removed, the hammer was returned to his belt and the helmet was placed back on his head.

  “Sneaking around while avoiding detection is generally considered spying,” Breslin told them while Athos retrieved his orix.

  “You arrived with a dragon!” the closest dwarf exclaimed. “How were we supposed to know you were friendly?”

  “You automatically assume all dragons are evil?” Venk snapped.

  Breslin stepped in front of Venk and held up his hands in a sign of peace.

  “You’ll have to forgive us. We generally do not hitch rides with dragons. The wyverians are allies and as such, we do not take kindly to anyone disrespecting them.”

  The second dwarf finally spoke.

  “Allies? With dragons?? Where are you from, friend?”

  “I am Breslin, son of Maelnar, son of Kasnar, of the Kla Guur. We come in peace.”

  “I am Timeki and this is Plukren, of the Kla Rehn.”

  After everyone had introduced themselves Timeki looked hard at Tristofer.

  “Don’t I know you?”

  Tristofer paled. “I doubt it. I would have remembered you.”

  Timeki’s brow furrowed. He grunted. He looked first at Breslin and then looked suspiciously over at Tristofer, who avoided eye contact. “What is your business here?”

  Breslin turned to Tristofer and slapped him on the back, startling the scholar into taking several steps forward. Tristofer nervously cleared his throat.

  “I was hoping to speak with Master Rohath.”

  Timeki and Plukren exchanged glances.

  “Sure. Right this way.”

  Timeki turned on his heel and led them towards the jagged stump. He pressed several knots on the stump’s surface while Plukren did the same on the other side. The western face of the stump, the side facing away from the valley, swung outward revealing a steep staircase leading down.

  The two members of the Kla Rehn descended down into dark staircase without waiting to see if they were being followed. Shrugging, Breslin entered next, followed closely by Venk and Lukas. Athos pushed a reluctant Tristofer through the doorway while pulling the false facade of the fake stump closed behind him as he was the last to enter.

  Fifteen minutes later they were standing in a well illuminated cavern facing an intricately carved archway. Dwarven runes had been carved into every square inch of the arch, starting at floor level and extending all the way up and over the arch until it touched the floor on the other side. A massive wooden door, replete with runes and symbols, was securely closed. As Timeki approached the large door, it noiselessly swung open as if it rested on well oiled hinges. Another staircase was visible, leading down. Lit torches blazed merrily every ten feet.

  “That’s a neat trick,” Athos admitted.

  Plukren turned to look back at Athos.

  “The entrance will only permit those from the city. The only way to visit Bykram is to be accompanied by one of its denizens.”

  “Then I’m glad we found you,” Breslin commented.

  Timeki absentmindedly rubbed the welt on his forehead. “Right, I’m sure you are.”

  Half an hour later they were met by a contingent of armed guards as they emerged into the great cavern Bykram called home.

  “State your business,” one guard gruffly asked them.

  Timeki stepped forward. “They seek Master Rohath.”

  “Who?”

  “That’s not encouraging,” Athos mumbled softly.

  “Master Rohath,” Timeki repeated. “I believe he was the former Master of Paleography.”

  “The former master of what?” Venk whispered to Tristan.

  “Ancient writing,” Tristofer whispered back.

  The lead guard thought for a moment and turned to point off towards a row of domed buildings.

  “Take them to the great hall. The Council will decide what should be done with them.”

  “Pardon me,” Tristofer meekly interrupted, “but we really don’t need to speak with the Council. If you could just inform Master Rohath that one of his former pupils would like a word I’m sure he would grant us an audience.”

  The guard shook his head no and again pointed towards the distant buildings.

  Breslin cursed softly. “That’s just splendid. Remember, everyone, we cannot disclose the true nature of our quest. Therefore I suggest you all let me do the talking.”

  Lukas fidgeted uncomfortably as he and his father, along with his uncle and the scholar, listened to Breslin talk with the ten adults seated in front of them. All of them had their arms crossed over their chests and every single one of them was frowning. The peculiar thing, Lukas noted, was that they were frowning at only one person: Tristofer.

  They had all been told that the Council was already engaged in its weekly session and that they would be seen almost immediately. The underling had heard Breslin curse quietly to himself as he had informed the other adults that he hadn’t a chance to prepare himself for this upcoming confrontation. Yet again Lukas wished he had never been cursed with the large mark on his back. All this trouble just to figure out what it meant and now they come to find out that they were just being led on an extravagant scavenger hunt to find some old hammer. He had silently hoped that maybe they would find the fabled city of Nar, but no, it looks like they were only going to find a tool. Even now it seemed unlikely since the Council had become very tight-lipped and was only giving one word responses to Breslin’s friendly questions.

  One member of the council, more heavily decorated with robes, necklaces, and ceremonial pins than the others, leaned forward to pick up his goblet of ale and, after draining the contents in a single swallow, thumped the metal chalice back onto the table. The loud noise startled everyone into silence.

  The elder who had been addressing Breslin turned to look back at his companion and noting the grim resolve which had appeared on the silent dwarf’s face, inclined his head and spoke no more.

  “I’ve heard enough, Master Breslin,” the decorated dwarf began, rising to his feet as he did so.

  Breslin bowed towards the speaker.

  “We all know that you’re here looking for Nar.”

  Surprise registered on the newcomers’ faces. Breslin recovered first, plastering a neutral expression on his face in only a few seconds.

  “Nar, Master Prixus?” Breslin repeated. “I do not know what you’re referring to.”

  “The reason I know you’re lying, Master Breslin,” Prixus continued, “is because of him.” With this, Prixus raised an arm and pointed at Tristofer. “It’s Tristofer, isn’t it? What nonsense have you concocted this time, Tristofer, to dupe our brothers from the north into coming here?” Prixus turned to Breslin. �
�He must have been persuasive if your clan enlisted the help of dragons. I’m sorry to say you’ve come all this way for naught. You will not find Nar here.”

  Breslin turned to stare at Tristofer. “You’ve led expeditions to locate Nar from here, too?”

  Prixus let out a short bark of laughter. “Didn’t he tell you? That’s why he was banished.”

  Athos, Venk, and Breslin turned incredulously to Tristofer. Athos burst out laughing.

  “No wonder you didn’t want to come here! You’re banished? You left that little part out, didn’t you?”

  Breslin smiled as inspiration struck. He jammed his elbow into Athos’ gut, cutting him off in mid guffaw. Returning his attention to Prixus, Breslin nodded.

  Enjoying himself, Prixus returned to his seat. “So what does he have you searching for now? A rock? Perchance you’re looking for a rare beetle? Trust me, you won’t find anything.”

  Tristofer’s cheeks were flaming red. “As a matter of fact, we have! We have –”

  Breslin stomped on the scholar’s foot. Hard.

  Prixus leaned forward and rested both elbows on the granite table.

  “Eh? Found what?”

  “That he’s a certifiable lunatic,” Breslin answered, giving a resounding sigh. He scowled at Tristofer before he faced the table full of elders. He was pleased to see that all had lost their frowns and now had condescending smiles on their faces. “You’re right. We were looking for something. But no longer. Do you know what he’s had us looking for so far?”

  Prixus smiled jovially. “Indulge me.”

  “Flowers, trinkets, rocks, books. Do you know he led us to the wrong location? I even caught him holding a map upside down!’”

  “If ever there was someone who could sympathize, friend Breslin, it’d be us. Only one wrong location? The last expedition Tristofer led us on he took us to four wrong locales before finally giving up.”

  “Why was he banished?” Breslin inquired.

  “For reasons I just explained. He had become a public nuisance. He wouldn’t let the notion of finding the lost city rest, so it was decided he should be banished. I’m truly sorry he ended up with the Kla Guur. If you don’t mind me asking, what were you looking for here?”

  Breslin shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. We’re tired. We’ve traversed so many leagues that we called in favors to our wyverian friends to arrange transport.”

  Prixus’ eyebrows shot up. “You rode a dragon?”

  Breslin laughed and shook his head. “While that would have been easier, no. We were forced to construct a container to be carried in.”

  Prixus nodded. “That explains the reports I heard of a large basket. So you consented to be carted around like a basket of berries?”

  Breslin rolled his eyes. “That was the final indignity. I was ready to call off the expedition right then and there, but Tristofer assured me that which we sought was nearby. It wasn’t.”

  “What did he tell you was nearby?”

  “A tree. A blasted tree! See any trees around here? Of course you do! Trees everywhere. Tristofer said this one looked as though two individual cedar trees had merged together and were thriving as a single tree.”

  Breslin stopped his narrative and held up all ten fingers. “We’ve found ten thus far, and none of them were the right one. He pleaded with me...”

  “I did no such thing,” Tristofer murmured softly.

  “He pleaded with me,” Breslin continued, growing angry, “to not give up. That this is his life’s work. Whatever. I’m done. We’re all done. We have inconvenienced our honorable brothers of the Kla Rehn long enough. By your leave, we’ll return home.”

  Prixus sat back in his chair and tapped his fingers on his armrest.

  “Two cedars growing together as one? Aye. I believe I have seen a tree such as the one you describe.”

  Breslin irritably waved off the comment.

  “You’re more than welcome to investigate,” Prixus continued. “I’ll have a map drawn up for you. The terrain isn’t favorable as the tree I’m thinking of lies halfway up a mountain in the heart of the Selekais. There are no paths and no roads, only leagues and leagues of wilderness and forest. Obviously the existence of two trees growing together isn’t as much of an anomaly as I had thought, since there are so many, but I thought I should mention it.”

  “How is it you remember this one?” Breslin asked, genuinely curious.

  “In my youth I used to watch the dragons hunt the great serpent out at sea. When someone makes the same trip over the same land over and over, the traveler’s mind tends to wander, and when it wanders it has a tendency to notice anything out of the ordinary. I must have passed that tree several dozen times.”

  Breslin shrugged. “The tree is probably gone now, but if it lies between us and the sea then perhaps we can get the dragon to fly by the area so we can see for ourselves. If the dragon refuses, then I won’t lose any sleep over it.”

  Prixus nodded. “I’ll inform my staff about the map in case you go.”

  Meeting adjourned, the Kla Guur visitors were shown to a large chamber where they were allowed to stow their gear and rest. As soon as the door closed, Venk grinned broadly and clapped Breslin on the shoulder.

  “Never have I witnessed a more superb example of manipulation! Master Breslin, you have my admiration.”

  Athos also nodded. “Is it safe to say we finally caught some good luck?”

  Breslin beamed, his smile infectious. “I would say so, lads. Now all we have to do is –”

  “What?” Tristofer interrupted. “We’re still going to search for the tree? But I thought... I thought...”

  “That’s why I told you to let me do the talking,” Breslin reminded him. “I learned from my father long ago that practically any situation can be turned in your favor provided you know how to handle the participants. It was just a matter of convincing them that we weren’t interested.”

  Tristofer sniffed. “You inferred I was a charlatan.”

  Breslin surprisingly pulled Tristofer into a one-armed hug. “You, my friend, have been right at every turn. Well, almost every turn.” Breslin’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Look what we have so far! We only need the handle to complete our Narian power hammer and now even that is within our grasp. Forget your old Master, my friend. We leave at first light!”

  Tristofer was nonplussed. Slowly he nodded and his smile returned.

  “Good. I really didn’t want to see him anyway.”

  Chapter 9 – Two Trees or Not Two Trees