The Crystal Legacy (Book 2) (4 page)

Saxthor looked at Tournak. The wizard’s frown revealed he knew there was more to the ‘lost in the city’ story, but he kept quiet and listened.

“I’m sorry for all the trouble … Belbik, wasn’t it?” Hendrel said. “I was in the wrong. The lack of work has drained my resources, and my temper got the best of me this morning.”

Bodrin deflated. “That’s all right, Sir. These are lean times, and we’re all short-tempered. I also apologize for the incident.” He turned back to his work, but Hendrel spoke again.

“I guessed the sergeant would send you on your way, too. Do you think I might catch a ride with you, since I must leave as well? I can pay a little, and I’ve a strong back. I can help with poling the boat.”

He was a tall man, early forties with thick brown hair and a full, manicured beard. His form filled out his clothes, indicating he worked hard and had the muscles to show for it. His clear brown eyes and pleasant smile suggested he was a good man, if down on his luck.

Saxthor looked at Delia and Twit for their assessment. Animals sensed things, betrayed by scent that men couldn’t detect. If Tournak and the animals approve of him, Saxthor decided they could at least help him avoid imprisonment.

“We’re traveling north, Sir,” Saxthor said. “I remember your telling the sergeant you’re going south down the peninsula seeking work.”

“Well, it seems I must depart sooner than expected,” the stranger said with a laugh. “If I may travel with you to Botahar, maybe I’ll find work there.”

His dignity exposed, his need seemed great. Saxthor looked at Bodrin, who nodded his approval. Delia was wagging her tail. Saxthor looked to Tournak.

“Do you think this man might travel with us to Botahar?”

Twit had returned to his sunny spot for a nap but opened one eye. He must like birds; he has a nest on his face, he thought.

Tournak frowned. “Excuse us, Sir; I’d like to speak to these two alone.”

Hendrel nodded and walked down the dock.

“Bodrin, how do you know this man? How does he know you? You two haven’t been truthful with me.”

“We’ve been truthful, Tournak.” Bodrin’s head drooped, his voice faded. “We just didn’t tell you
everything
for fear you’d worry over nothing.”

“Uh-huh, over nothing is it? Well, you’ll have to answer for the man if you two allow him on the boat. I don’t like traveling with strangers. It’s your call Saxthor.” Tournak lifted Bodrin’s chin, and looking him in the face, said, “You’ll provide a full explanation later as soon as we’re alone, won’t you?”

“I will.” Bodrin flashed a grin to Saxthor, glanced back at Tournak and wilted again.

Saxthor saw Tournak’s look of concern. He turned to Hendrel, “You may ride with us as far as Botahar. Come ahead.”

A grateful smile emerged on the stranger’s face. He stepped into the boat with his satchel.

“Where may I put this? I’ll be no trouble, and I’ll sleep on deck so as not to be a bother.”

“Stow your gear in the cabin behind the door,” Bodrin said. He stepped to open it.

The man entered the cabin, looked in and around, before dropping his bag out of sight. When he turned back to the men, he extended his hand and announced his name: “I’m Hendrel of Hador.”

They all exchanged first names and shook hands. Hendrel’s eyebrows rose, when Bodrin’s name didn’t match what he’d told the sergeant, but Hendrel said nothing. With that, the man took up a pole and stood ready for orders to push the boat off from the dock.

* * *

Earwig was scrubbing dried blood off one of Magnosious’ claws, when the dragon tensed.

“What’s the matter with you?” the witch asked.

Magnosious snorted, and stamped his foot knocking the witch on her rump. He stared behind Earwig. The witch turned to see a black vapor wafting up behind her. She scrambled back against the dragon. Her lip trembled, and feeling betrayed, she bit it. She glanced up at Magnosious, then stared back at the horned creature forming from the vapor.

“Who, or rather what, are you? What do you want here?”

The wraith shot into Magnosious nostrils. The dragon stamped about, shorting, setting fire to the stinging nettles around the Earwighof’s unkempt back garden. Magnosious spoke with a raspy voice not his own.

“I come from your master, the king of Dreaddrac, in search of an energy source that has attracted his attention. I’ve sensed such a force, that of a wizard, and a latent energy I don’t recognize. They were in an inn at Favriana.”

“Rubbish!” Earwig said. “The only wizard in these parts is that meddlesome Memlatec. He’s here in Konnotan, not far to the north at Favriana. “Be off with you.”

Magnosious coughed sending a fireball into a dead bush that exploded in sparks and settled to the ground as ash. The dark vapor slipped away into the night.

Recovering from her fright, Earwig thought more on what the wraith said. She was livid. It dawned on her, there was another wizard, one lost years before, Memlatec’s assistant. If the wizard’s energy was that of Tournak, then the latent energy could be…

NO! It couldn’t be; Saxthor is dead, she thought. The heat of rage pulsed through her. After the initial shock, she rushed to the tower and dragged out books on transformation spells. There was no time to lose. The fugitives would again soon slip beyond her grasp if she didn’t move at once.

She scanned the books, touching this word and that with her long, bony fingers, each fingernail now pinched, hooking into a claw. Her powers had grown more menacing over the years. Maintaining control over the things she conjured and the powers she unleashed strained her more each time. Though she was aware the sinister powers and vengeful anger warped her, she surrendered to the evil and came to welcome it through the years.

“Here it is, the spell to merge and fuse an animal and man into a medrax. A medrax has a predator’s cunning and the man’s intelligence, and its maker controls its will. The cost is high. Again, it requires blood. Poor Minnabec, he’s but a bone of a man now. To take more of his blood will kill him. That’s not a problem as far as I’m concerned, but if he dies, my claim to the throne goes with him. No, I must spare him this time. I must find a way around the blood problem.”

Earwig sighed, looked up from her ragged spell book, and contemplated various solutions. Concentrating, she paced the floor. She slammed the book shut and tossed it on her worktable, sending up a dust plume as she stormed out of the workroom.

“There’s a solution to this wretched problem, I’m just not seeing it.”

Casting her eye about as she rushed through the Castilyernov Earwighof, her gaze landed on a simple servant cleaning up the meal’s scraps and bones from the great hall’s floor. The vile solution came like a bursting wisteria seedpod. Delighted, she tingled.

“How simple.” She chuckled. “Whether here to repay debts or held here under dark spells, the servants are mine. We care nothing for each other, but they’re a wary lot. I must proceed carefully.”

“You there! Drop that rubbish and get over here.”

The poor man stooped further, assumed a submissive posture, and continued working. The pitiful fool’s quivering betrayed him.

He’s pretending not to hear me, she thought. He’s begging his gods for mercy and desperate, hopes I was calling someone else.

She went and kicked him in the side. “Attend me in the tower.”

Quaking, the man dropped his tray. He hesitated, glanced at the door, but then withered and followed Earwig. She glanced back to see his labored steps exposed his raw fear. He followed as if going to a gallows. His trudging shuffle must’ve seemed endless to the poor creature. He’d never dared venture near the tower’s base before. Earwig didn’t turn around, but listened for each heavy foot sliding onto the next stone tread. When the hapless man entered the tower workroom, the witch slammed the door shut with a bang. The victim jumped. He fell to the floor groveling.

“Have mercy, Duchess Irkin.”

The witch snarled, “Come to the table and help me with this heavy cauldron.”

For a moment, the man perked up and hurried to the table. He struggled moving the heavy iron pot to the huge hearth, not daring to look to the witch for help. She knew he’d do whatever she commanded thinking he’d escape something worse. She smirked, dominating him completely.

Rushing to please his mistress, the man tripped and almost dropped the pot. He froze, shrank, then hunched over, covering his entrails. She did nothing but wait. He straightened up, apparently relieved when
she didn’t beat him. Another moment without her striking, and he’d convince himself she wasn’t going to hurt him. She thought that sweet, if naive. With the cauldron on the iron hook, the man turned back to his mistress.

“Will that all, Madam?”

She remained silent as a spider. He began to tremble again. His sinking face drained looking at the floor.

“That isn’t all,” Earwig said. Before he could look up, the witch grabbed his disheveled hair, spun him around to the cauldron, and slashed his throat with her dragon-tooth dagger. As he struggled, gasping his last breath, she calmly collected his blood in the pot. When finished, she released the lifeless body that crumpled to the floor, twitching. She cut out his heart and tossed it into the pot.

“That’s an inconvenience,” Earwig said, stepping over the heap to the window facing the cave beyond. “Magnosious!”

In seconds, massive reptilian bulk appeared at the cave entrance. The great dragon leapt into the sky and circled the castilyernov three times before deftly landing on the dark tower’s roof like a bull balanced on an upturned teacup.

“Mommy has a treat for her precious,” Earwig chirped.

Magnosious leaned over the side of the tower. His great head peered through the tiny window slit. A flash of delight registered on the dragon’s face; his huge yellow eyes lit up. Drooling, tongue dangling, the dragon extended his massive arm and stuffed his smallest finger through the window. Stuck at first, the finger wiggled in and plucked the lifeless servant through the hole-in-the-wall. A quick look at the treat, and Magnosious swallowed him whole, licking his lips but once.

“Did Mommy’s little boy enjoy his treat? Why, yes he did. Now go back to your cave and rest. That’s all you get tonight.” Magnosious’ drooling smile and wide eyes dissolved. “Go along, Precious.” With the second command, he reluctantly returned to his lair, where a magical restraint again contained him.

Earwig turned back to the cauldron and chanted incantations over the simmering blood coagulating around a dried beaver. A black monster slithered out of the cauldron as a smoky essence.

“Go to Lake Pundar. Stay in vapor form for speed. Your sole purpose is to find and follow Prince Saxthor’s boat – and eliminate him.”

* * *

The small vessel creaked, straining against the current as the travelers rowed across the Nhy. It was sunny, but the wind was against them, and without a sail, the crossing was slow. An extra man to rotate on the oars was a big help. When they reached the other bank, they stopped to rest along the rocky shore where the lake flowed into the river.

“We’ll stay close to this undeveloped shoreline and avoid contact with people on the lake if possible,” Tournak said.

“You’re worried about the wraith at the inn?” Saxthor asked.

“There was no way of knowing if it discovered us, something else, or if it sensed our energies for the first time. We’ll stay out of sight in case the thing did identify us. We can make better time by water than overland. The lake provides a good breeze, diluted current to overcome, and easy rowing on the west side.

We’re passing from Neuyokkasin’s last rich farmlands to the Sengenwha’s dry, rocky upland. At least thick forests line the lake for potential cover.”

On the third night out from Favriana, a large dark creature swam up the lake near where they’d anchored.

“Look there… there in the moonlight stream on the lake,” Bodrin said, pointing.

Coiling a rope, Saxthor looked up. “It’s just a beaver.”

They watched it swimming toward the boat until it smacked its tail and dove under water. They thought no more of it. The boys returned to their activities, but Hendrel watched the water – and Tournak watched Hendrel.

A sudden explosion of spray beside the boat splintered the serene night. The creature shot up, coming over the boat’s side next to Saxthor working in the bow. The medrax wrapped one human arm around Saxthor’s chest and the other around his throat. The webbed hands, tipped with fierce beaver claws, dug into Saxthor with an iron grip. Staring the creature in the face, Saxthor saw massive fangs that made chips out of aspen trees.

“Help!”

Stunned for an instant, Tournak realized the medrax was dragging Saxthor over the side.

“Saxthor!” Bodrin lunged forward.

Struggling to hold onto the boat with one hand, Saxthor released his grip on the medrax’s arm with the other, and snatched out Sorblade.

Tournak darted forward behind Bodrin.

“Slash it!” Bodrin yelled. He waved his knife, but the creature held tight and kept Saxthor between them.

The medrax’s hind paws and tail thrashed the water trying to pull Saxthor free. Saxthor whipped the sword across and around his body. Prevented from slashing the monster by his own body, Saxthor flipped Sorblade under his arm, turned the hilt backward, and stabbed the blade back, up, and against his side.