He must have known there were no silk robes for sale in the entire city. Another problem was that purple was a color reserved for royalty that was generally not available to the public. The likelihood of finding a robe like that was slim to none. We both knew that he’d set that condition because it was a more polite way of saying “like finding cold water in hell.”
But maybe I could use his words against him.
I happened to know some things Washman didn’t know, however. I walked out the door simmering with anger and determined to do something about it. I could see in his eyes that he planned to do really bad things to Mira, and worse, he would enjoy doing them. For years. I walked down the street a little bit then turned into a small alley that no one was likely to use. Then I waited until I didn’t see anyone’s shadows crossing my field of view of the main street. Once the way was clear, I teleported to the roof of Stonekeep Castle and walked through the portals that took me to the throne room.
Thinking hard, I set my pack down next to the Throne and took a seat. The easiest way to handle this would be to find a merchant in Stonekeep who had a robe I could buy. I used the power of the Throne (which came much more easily to me now) to scan the city for a purple silk robe and came up empty handed. I looked for robes of other colors, but there were only a few of them in the city, and they were all in people’s wardrobes. There would be some other way to get one besides stealing, which I wasn’t willing to do. Well, maybe as a last resort, I had to admit to myself. A marriage to Lorond Washman was something to be avoided at all costs, especially when it came with the abuse he was dreaming of. Since there was nothing available in Stonekeep, I decided to try to find one in Mithram. The king lived there, so there were much better shops, also. Unfortunately, all the purple robes were in the closets of the royal family, and none were for sale in the entire city.
It was time to take a different tack. From my studies, I knew that Havanalil was the capital city of the Arboreans in the forest nation of Elimhalar across the Flamecrest Mountains to the east. It would take months to walk there, and it would be almost impossible to find it on foot. With the power of the Throne, it took almost no effort at all to get a bird’s eye view of the city. Havanalil was Arborean in all aspects, and as such, it had virtually no buildings on the ground. The city was built high in the trees, nearly invisible from the ground. Every part of its structure was grown to be the way it was without being worked by any sort of tool. The trees themselves were immense, several hundred feet high and each had a trunk as big around as one or two of Stonekeep’s houses, with leaves of varying colors.
The Arboreans looked like people, except they were born of wood. They were very thin, like they were stretched to be a little taller than humans, but it was hard to tell exactly how tall they were through the Throne’s viewing magic. They loved bright colors in their clothing, and brightly colored butterflies flitted about everywhere. The people there were all very happy and relaxed, and I could catch a bit of song here and there as they worked. There were gardens everywhere that the enormous roots didn’t cover. The entire city was surrounded by a short, thin wall that looked like it was thrown together and made of rocks they found in a field somewhere. The stones were often covered with moss or lichen, and the whole thing looked like an ogre’s sneeze could blow it over.
Try as I might, I could not find where their shops or marketplace was, and since everyone was wearing silk, I couldn’t home in on a single purple robe for sale. I was just going to have to ask someone for help, and this was going to be a problem. My Arborean was a little rusty because I hadn’t used it much since I was young, but I thought I could make do. In this situation, I’d draw pictures if I had to.
I picked a place outside the city walls and out of view of the guards there, and I used the Throne to access the portal to the left. My portal opened behind a tree there, and I picked up my pack and stepped through. I watched the portal close, then casually walked from behind the tree towards the city gate, following a game trail that led up to it. It was strange that there wasn’t a proper road. The scale of the place was very daunting, I noticed. The scrying spell didn’t give it justice. I was also immediately struck by the sounds here. There were the usual bird calls in a forest, but the entire city sounded like a symphony of pipes and flutes or some other kinds of wind instruments, all of which were muted somewhat. The only thing I could think that could be the source of the music was that the Arboreans were singing as they went about daily life. It was beautiful. I could also see what looked like shimmering in the boughs of the trees. It looked like magic to me from down here, but I knew it wasn’t. With all the butterflies fluttering around, it looked like a deeply magical and pristine place.
The city gates were closed, unsurprisingly. The forest grew right up to the edge of the city walls so it appeared that anyone could just sneak up to the place. I’d have kept the gates closed, too. There were two Arboreans in chainmail shirts that were dyed gray and green standing guard on the wall above the gate. They had war bows in their hands and slim swords sheathed at their sides. They wore open-faced, steel helms on their heads with plenty of room for their long, sharply pointed ears to show through. Arboreans looked just like people, except they had large eyes in shades of green and skin the color of the bark of a willow tree. A movement caught my eye to my left, and an Arborean guard seemed to emerge from the bark of a tree about twenty feet up, an arrow already nocked, but not drawn, on his war bow. I guessed there would be more I couldn’t see, so I tried to be as casual and non-threatening as I could, keeping my hands away from my knife and mace.
The two guards on the wall looked at each other as I walked up. Currently I was wearing my white shirt and gray pants, and my knife and mace were hung on my belt. I kept my right hand on the strap to my pack, well away from my mace. I certainly didn’t look like I was prepared to walk for a week to find this place, I had to admit. I was no woodsman, and it showed by my choice of clothing. The guards were probably thinking the same thing.
“[What brings you to our fair city, traveler?]” the guard on the right said in Arborean. He spoke slowly, presumably out of politeness, though it could have been that he was insulting my intelligence.
“[Greetings. I am here to paint your houses and plunder your cabbages,]” I said.
They laughed in my face. Clearly, I said something I didn’t intend, and my face colored in embarrassment. My Arborean was far too rusty, it seemed. Being laughed at didn’t hurt my feelings, either, as their laughter was of such a fun, musical quality. It almost made me want to laugh along with them. Almost.
“[Maybe you meant to say that you were here to visit our city and purchase clothing?],” the one on the right said.
“[Yes, matron. I am here to buy a codpiece. Will you let me swim to the market?]”
They began laughing uncontrollably again. For some reason, they thought what I said was hilarious. I must have done it again. I shook my head and tried again.
“[I am here to buy a codpiece.]” I gestured to the neckline of my shirt, picked at the collar, and gestured all the way down to my knees. “[A codpiece.]”
They just laughed harder. “[You’ve had a long walk for nothing, I think, traveler. We don’t sell codpieces here.]” The Arborean on the left gestured at his groin, then shook his head no.
I was really screwing this up. I tried a different tack. I simply shook my pack a bit, making the money inside jingle loudly. They understood that and nodded in comprehension, but they still didn’t make a move to open the gate to let me in. They just stood there smirking.
Speaking very quickly, the one on the left said, “[Fine weather we’re having today, is it not?]”
“[Yes, matron, it is very runny. May I ride your squirrel?]”
At that, they laughed loud and long. I could even hear laughter coming from the surrounding trees. If I kept this up, I could probably make them hyperventilate and pass out from sheer mirth, then I could just walk in. As I was trying to think of what to say to clear this up, a bright green hummingbird flew in from the city, flitted within the sight of the guards, chirped a few times, then flew up and over the walls. They were still chuckling as the gate opened and they waved me through. I walked through the city gate and found a young Arborean boy coming down the footpath towards me and waving to me. The guards sounded like they were repeating what I said to them and laughing like it was the funniest thing they’d ever heard. Maybe it was, which didn’t say much for the ability of their bards. I resolved right then to find a better book to teach me the Arborean language once I got back. It wasn’t all bad, though. At least I could understand what they were saying.
I walked up to the boy, and without saying anything, he turned, beckoned me to follow, and led me deeper between the giant boles. The roots were enormous. Here and there were pathways that led up the roots and wound around the boles of the trees into the branches above where the Arboreans dwelt. The gardens down here were orderly but a little wild. The farmers watched me pass as they worked. They were dressed in silks that didn’t seem to get dirty and they sang softly as they tilled their gardens. I could feel a subtle power in their songs, too. It felt like the sort of druidic magic that Fajen used. It was rooted in the natural world, and it was beautiful to hear.
The boy led me to a particularly large tree with deep emerald leaves of a large size. There were a lot of broken branches under this tree and no one farmed the soil around it. He walked up a root which led to a path that was only about three feet wide and had no railing. The pathway was covered in bark that was tough, but smooth. As we climbed higher, my stomach seemed to fall out beneath me when I looked down. It would only take an errant breeze to knock me off this path and to my death below. If ever there was a time to learn some kind of flying magic, this was it. I didn’t want to look like a coward, so I swallowed my fear and concentrated on the path beneath my boots and on my breathing. The Arborean lad was as graceful as a cat and wasn’t bothered by the heights at all. When I looked closer at his feet, it looked like they may have been rooting themselves into the tree bark with each step, but maybe I was just imagining things.
Eventually we reached a place where smaller tree limbs were woven together to make a floor for a chamber with no walls. There was a group of five stately looking Arboreans standing in the center waiting for us. They were clothed in silk robes of different colors that were long and flowing, and they had golden circlets on their brows to keep their long, silver and blonde hair out of their eyes. They regarded me with kind eyes and small smiles. It seemed to me that I was meeting with people who governed the city and not simple merchants. I could sense that each of them had the ability to use magic in a more powerful way than the other Arboreans could, too. The Arborean in the center wore a sky-blue robe and addressed me in the common trade tongue.
“Greetings, High Mage. It has been a very long time since one of you has graced us with your presence.” He had a very clear and well-projected voice, like a perfectly tuned musical instrument.
I bowed to them and took a moment to think. Although I was flattered by the title and I could play that to my advantage, I decided it was better to be honest. “I’m not really a High Mage, my lords. I have only recently come to know this power and there’s no one to teach me, so I’m afraid I’m not worthy of that title yet. My name is Jeron Smith.”
They seemed surprised by this as they glanced at each other. The elf in the center spoke again. “I am Palenial elain Tanhorien, Chief Spellsinger of Havanalil and Keeper of the Sacred Grove. Be welcome in our wooded home.” It appeared that I was addressing the leader of the elvish nation. I swallowed nervously. It was unfortunate for the humans of Aldon that they had only me to represent humanity.
He honored me with a slight bow. As he did so, he gestured to a small table with two chairs next to it. There was a pitcher of clear water with two crystal glasses next to it. “May I offer you refreshment?” he asked.
I knew that many cultures regarded the offering and taking of food and drink as a ritual act that showed no harm was meant to the guest and that the guest was not there for violence or guile. It was a gesture of shelter and goodwill. To refuse would have been a slap in the face to my host.
“[I accept your hospitality with gratitude,]” I said in badly accented Arborean. At least I remembered the proper wording of that polite ritual. The Chief Spellsinger gave me a graceful smile, pleased by the effort.
I moved over to the table to sit down, waiting for him to sit first, as was only polite. The other Arboreans present remained standing where they were. I noticed that the Arborean that was standing directly behind the Chief Spellsinger was holding a tree branch that had been broken into a few jagged pieces, which was decidedly odd. I sat down, setting my pack down on the smooth, wood floor by my chair as I did so, trying to not let it jingle too much. The Chief Spellsinger poured two glasses of water and offered me one. I accepted the one he offered me, and we drank the water together. It was very refreshing, more so than water usually was, and it was crystal clear, something I was unused to seeing outside the keep. To be polite, I waited for him to speak. He seemed to be considering me closely.
“When I was told a High Mage was at our gates, I was very pleasantly surprised. I should know better, though. There have been many times in my life when things have worked out fortuitously despite my best efforts to do something different.” The Chief Spellsinger smiled genuinely at that. A self-deprecating joke from the leader of the Arboreans? That was a good sign.
“Then you must have either had a very long life, or you have great wisdom to see the pattern of such things,” I said.
“Others seem to think I have wisdom. I can only say I have lived a long time,” he said. “Tell me. What brings you here to our forested home?”
“Need. I’m on a quest.”
“For a codpiece?” he asked with a little grin.
“Is that what I said?” My face turned red. “No wonder they were laughing so hard. How embarrassing.”
“A little laughter never hurt anyone. You even made Asharien chuckle a bit, and he never laughs.” He gestured toward the very serious elf who was carrying the pieces of the tree branch. He thought for a bit. “So, you are here with money, but you have no supplies, and you’re on a quest? What are you questing for?”
“Yes, my lord. The woman I love and who loves me was pledged by her father to an odious man who wishes her ill. That man gave me an impossible task to get rid of me, but I still hope to win the day. To do that, I need to buy a purple, silk bathrobe big enough to fit his, er… overly large frame and then deliver it to him before the end of the day. I thought I was being led to the marketplace just now to make my purchase and leave, so please forgive me for my crude attire. It’s all I have at the moment.”
He made a dismissive gesture. “Very simple things are woven into a grand tapestry. We don’t have a marketplace in Havanalil, but I can arrange for the robe you need.”
“I can’t just buy one and be on my way?” I asked. Seeing his expression sour, I realized I had blundered again and probably insulted him somehow. Thinking quickly, I decided to offer something else. “Perhaps I can offer a service to you, then.”
“I was hoping you would offer, High Mage.” His expression brightened considerably. “Havanalil has a very great thing to ask of you.”
The Chief Spellsinger beckoned Asharien forward with the pieces of the branch. When he was standing right next to me, I could see that this branch was actually a staff that had been slashed into pieces by something large that had three talons. The wood was dead and dry, and looked like it had been that way for a long time. Looking closer, there looked like there was a claw or socket of some sort at the end that held something in place that was currently missing.
“This is the Lendoriathil. It is an ancient relic that was cloven into pieces a decade ago by an earth wyrm. It is the key to revitalizing our homeland and is most especially needed in this very tree in which you now recline. The Spellsingers of the past have used this artifact to provide for the Arborean people. You see, we will never take a tool, fire, or blade to a living tree, so to provide food for our people, we must graft branches of fruit trees to the trunks of the trees we live in. We also use the Lendoriathil to move our home, which we have not been able to do since the artifact’s ruin. New trees must be grown and adapted to accommodate an increasing population, and the dying, like this tree, must be revitalized. The Lendoriathil, with the magic imbued into it by our forefathers, is the key to all of this. We would like for you to make the Lendoriathil whole once again.”
There was some aspect of this I didn’t understand. “An earthworm, you say?” I couldn’t imagine how a simple, little earthworm could do such damage to a staff.
“An earth wyrm,” the Chief Spellsinger said, sounding out the syllables distinctly, “not earthworm. Trust me, there is a big difference. The wyrm I am referring to is huge, twice as big in circumference to your height, and it moves through the ground like you would swim through water. It lairs to the south of here, closer to the mountains. We unknowingly strayed too close to it, and it was able to sense the magic of the Lendoriathil. Wyrms like that are able to sense magic and are both evil and cunning enough to steal such things from their rightful owners. It is extremely powerful, and we have not been able to wrest the crystal from its grasp in the years since. Our city is slowly dying as a result. We think only a High Mage can help us. Will you?”
For a moment I lamented the fact that this just couldn’t be easy. I mean, how hard could it be to go out and buy a stupid purple robe? For a second, I actually thought about taking the easy path and simply going back to Stonekeep and reducing Lorond Washman to a grease stain on his floor. Then I thought about the good I could do for this city. The Arboreans here really needed help, and it could be that only I could give it to them. Remembering my pledge to the Icosahedron, I just couldn’t say no.
“I’ll help. Where does the wyrm lair?”
“About two day’s travel south, under a burned grove.”
“I’ll be back as soon as I can retrieve your crystal. What’s it look like, anyway?”
“It is an emerald about six inches long, has six sides, and it glows in the dark. The wyrm is very jealous of its power and takes the crystal with it wherever it goes.”
The terms with Washman, if they even were terms, said I had to deliver the robe today, before dark. There was no time to lose, and only the Throne could help me locate and get to the beast in that amount of time. I sighed unconsciously as I picked up my pack and stood. “I’ll return here when I have it, Chief Spellsinger.”
He stood with a hopeful expression. “Thank you so much, High Mage. Do be careful.”
“I will. See you soon.” I hoped.
There was nothing to hide from the Arboreans, so I immediately teleported back to Stonekeep’s roof, then went to the throne room, set my pack on the dais and sat down in the Throne. Golden light radiated out from the artifact, and I couldn’t help but think there was some lingering danger that I was unaware of. Best to focus on the danger at hand, though. I focused my will on finding the emerald that belonged in the Lendoriathil, and I found it gripped in the center of a massive, taloned paw. The gem radiated green light as the Chief Spellsinger said it would, but all around it was darkness. By the magic of the throne, I could see faintly through even the complete darkness of whatever pit the wyrm was currently resting in. It looked like a cave of some sort, one that had claw marks and wavy, molten undulations in the rock walls, almost like the rock had melted that way. Great. It was a fire breather. No wonder the Arboreans had been unsuccessful in recovering their gem. The cavern itself was like a nexus. It had many tunnels leading away from it at all angles except straight up and down. The floor of the cave was filled with sand and crushed rock.
The great wyrm itself was coiled up in a cone-shaped posture with its head at the top, sleeping. Its body wasn’t proportioned like a snake’s, though, but was much stouter, making only two circles before reaching the center of the circle where its head rested. It had at least twenty enormous pairs of legs, maybe as many as thirty, and each one ended with a single blunted talon. The pair of talons nearest to its head were much smaller than the rest and had three fingers and an opposable thumb. It was one of these that grasped the gem. The wyrm had scales covering its body that looked like they were each several inches thick and black as night. Its head was made up of one single scale on the top side that had very thick, short spikes projecting forward. It looked a lot less like a skull than it did a wedge. Its skull ended at what looked like a giant chisel of a beak, and it had a mouth under this massive plate that I couldn’t see except for the very corner. I estimated it to be about a hundred or a hundred and fifty feet long. It may not be an actual dragon but knowing how alert dragons were to magic and not wanting to awaken it, I stopped scrying on it as soon as I had an idea of what I would be dealing with and took some time to think.
I wasn’t wearing my armor at the time, but a beast that could dig through stone could probably claw through my armor with no effort anyway. Maybe I could sneak into the cavern and steal the gem without waking it up, then be gone before it noticed. I liked the idea. It wasn’t stealing if I was retrieving something that had already been stolen and giving it back to its original owners. Though I hated the idea of not wearing armor, there was no way I could sneak in without waking it while wearing my armor. I needed Mordon’s helm, though, to be able to see in the dark. The cave was far enough away that it wouldn’t be able to dig its way to the elven city and exact revenge for the theft of its stolen loot, especially if the restored artifact could make the city move. The wyrm didn’t have a pile of treasure it was sleeping on, so it probably couldn’t be bribed, and I didn’t know if it was intelligent, so it probably couldn’t be bargained with. Stealing the gem back was the best option, I thought.
I retrieved Mordon’s helm and put it on, then tried to visualize exactly what I would do when I got there. I had to be quick and quiet, and with an earth dragon as obviously powerful as this one was, there was absolutely no room for mistakes. Sitting back in the throne, I brought up a vision of the wyrm’s cavern again. Focusing on a point in the cavern that was out of its line of sight, directly behind the beast’s head and at least a hundred paces down a tunnel, I opened a portal. As quickly and quietly as I could, I snuck to the portal. After one last look and listening to the wyrm’s breathing and scraping of scales, I stepped through. I wanted to leave the portal open for a quick getaway, but I decided against that idea. The golems could probably prevent it from rampaging through the castle, but if I did this right, I’d never have to find out. I closed the portal in the vague hopes that my teleportation magic would work this far underground.
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
The tunnel had a sour reek that was hard to describe, and as I snuck forward, the cavern was even worse. The wyrm’s snores could be felt through the soles of my boots. Even so, I didn’t want to teleport anywhere near the wyrm, because that made a whooshing sound that may wake it up. The vision the helm afforded me wasn’t perfect, but it was a lot better than the almost complete, green-tinged darkness of the cavern. The only light in the cavern shone from the glowing emerald, throwing shadows everywhere. It was then that I wished Mira was here to get her own stupid crystal. She could have taken it in about two seconds without any fuss and been long gone. As it was, I had to do it myself, so I just concentrated on putting my feet as softly as possible on the sandiest spots I could find. Eventually, I made my way to the wyrm itself, which was incredibly nerve-racking. I felt like a mouse sneaking up on a cat.
Now that I was there, I tried the new magic I’d just learned, which was to grab the gem with magic and float it over to me. It didn’t work. The magic was working, but the wyrm was gripping the gem too tightly. Mentally, I cursed. Maybe I could pry it loose. I tried using magic to do it, but it didn’t work, and I couldn’t tell how much pressure I was actually putting on the claws to expand its grip. Maybe it was way too little, or maybe I wasn’t using the magic right. I had too little experience to know. The only thing I could do was to get up there myself or give up trying, and for Mira’s sake, I wasn’t going to give up. There was a line of very large scales going from head to tail on its back that looked both thick and steady, almost like they were locked in place. Keeping teleportation magic handy, very slowly and gently stepped on the second to last scale, which was at my knee level, and gradually shifted my weight onto it. So far, so good. The wyrm’s snoring didn’t change, so I stepped all the way onto the scale. Still no change. My heart was racing. There was no turning back now, so I very carefully snuck all the way up the wyrm’s back until I was standing on the scale closest to the gem.
The emerald was only a couple of arm-lengths away from me, grasped in the wyrm’s paw, which was pretty darned big compared to mine. It was at a very inconvenient angle, being tilted back towards the wyrm where it was exposed a little bit, and the scales were very small compared to the one I was standing on. I saw a patch of long, bristly hair at a junction of its arm, and I decided to step on that to hide the sounds of my boots before I tried to pry the gem from its paw. As soon as I stepped on it, the rhythmic breathing of the wyrm stopped, and I knew my mistake. The hairs weren’t just hairs, but sensory organs just like Bandit’s whiskers. I had just awakened the beast.
Without thinking, I softly said the worst curse word I knew, and that turned out to be my second mistake. The wyrm suddenly erupted into motion, much faster than I thought would be possible, and threw me off its back. I tumbled downward, hitting each scale like a boulder on the way down a mountainside, not being able to tell which way was up until I finally hit the floor. Volumes of dust were knocked loose, and I could barely tell which way was up. I didn’t know the layout of this cavern well enough to know where to teleport to in order to get out from underfoot! I heard a weird shrieking sound that was like a thousand metal files rubbing together and then saw the vague outline of the beast’s head come around above me and focus on me as it uncoiled. There was a dull reddish glow that formed in its maw that quickly brightened to yellow, and I knew it was going to breathe fire on me. I swore again.
I rolled over as quickly as I could, crab-walking, then running away from the wyrm trying to get out of the dust cloud where I could see one of passages leading out of the cavern. Maybe it would drop the gem so it could fight better, and I could snatch it up and disappear before it got me. If I was in one of those tunnels when it breathed fire, then death would be inescapable, but maybe I could trick it. I spared a glance behind me as I ran and saw that it was rearing its head back and the sound of its breath had stopped. As its head snapped forward and the flames began spewing forth, I teleported to a different cave entrance on my left. The flames shot forth into the tunnel I was previously headed for, briefly making the entire cavern as bright as day.
The wyrm still had the glowing emerald gripped in the smallest talon closest to its head, and I cursed. It was like a dog with a bone, and it would fight to keep it. The most familiar magic I knew was fire magic, and I seriously doubted I could hurt it with a gout of flame if it was using fiery breath itself. Maybe I could stun it and try something else. I summoned a ball of lightning and hurled it at its head. My spell hit the beast squarely on the side of its head, briefly illuminating a single dark eye when my spell exploded, sending lightning bolts in all directions. Lightning coursed along its scales, having no discernable effect at all. Except to focus its attention on me, that is. It swung its head around to aim directly at me and began sucking in a huge lung full of air into its glowing maw. I knew what was coming next, so I found another tunnel entrance far away from the one I was standing in and teleported to it as soon as it snapped its head forward to release the fire.
After summoning a fire shielding spell, which was better than nothing, though it may not be completely effective against the power of its breath weapon, I thought fast. I wasn’t ready to give up yet. Too many people relied on me to get that emerald, so I tried a different tack. I channeled as much magic as I could hold and with difficulty, I was able to turn it into a blast of freezing ice like I had practiced on the voyage to the Sunset Isles. The wyrm definitely didn’t like the extreme cold of that spell hitting its scales, and it roared in pain. Without warning, it suddenly propelled itself right at me, its maw wide open and fangs the size of swords reflecting the dim light. I teleported out of the way a mere instant before it would have gulped me down whole.
The wyrm had charged straight into the tunnel, its massive head and scales slamming into the right-hand side of it, causing the entire cavern to shake. To my surprise, it didn’t stop but continued into the tunnel until it had disappeared. Was it running away? From somewhere in the darkness, the sound of a very low humming commenced. The tunnel the wyrm was in turned a dark red, and then the sounds and glow faded. Thinking that I may need to get to a less dusty area, I began jogging across the cavern. I started hearing the vibrating sound again, louder and louder. Something was definitely wrong, and I froze. I teleported across the cavern to another tunnel entrance a second before the cavern floor erupted underneath my feet, flames shooting out of it, quickly followed by the earth wyrm, its head vibrating forward and backward faster than the eye could see, and flames spewing from its maw.
This was not going to end well for me, whether it was vulnerable to cold or not. Somehow it could sense where I was walking, and as long as I was in this cavern system, I knew it would always find me. The trick was to stay close enough that it wouldn’t dig a new tunnel and surprise me again. More importantly, if I could see it, I could hit it with everything I had. There was a huge problem, though. I didn’t have much experience using elements beyond fire, and that worried me. I’d barely even learned how to channel magic into freezing cold, or blasts of air or lightning, and hadn’t been able to practice it since I learned. That was years ago, and now my life depended on it.
I strengthened my fire shielding spell, then started hitting it as hard as I could with spears made of ice. It turned and lunged at me, so I teleported behind it and conjured a ball of concussive force, which I hurled at its head. The spell exploded, bashing its head down into the ground. Unfortunately, it also knocked me on my backside and made my ears ring. I got up as it turned its head and found me again. Green light from the gem illuminated its head and flank as it more cautiously advanced into the center of the cavern, getting closer to me. Desperate, I remembered how lightning magic felt, and managed to channel it into a single, sustained blast that hit it squarely. It roared and charged, breathing fire at me. I teleported to a place behind it, but when I appeared, I found that its head was turning, scouring half of the cavern floor in flames. I didn’t have time to find a new spot to teleport to before the flames strafed over me. I’d never been inside a fire before, and it was a terrifying thing. But my shield against fire held.
The wyrm was still strafing my half of the cavern when I revitalized my shield’s magic. It was hot enough in here that it was hard to breathe, and the dust was making me cough uncontrollably. I couldn’t see well, and my eyes were tearing up from all the grit. I was close to panic. I dashed away from the wyrm, trying to get a better view when the wyrm’s fire ended. I felt the ground shake and knew it was about to pounce on me, so I teleported to the only spot I could see, which was to my left. The wyrm’s maw snapped shut on the space I’d just left, and it snapped its head back and forth like a dog shaking a rat. It was just spitting out the rocks from its mouth when I hit it on the head and neck with the most intense blast of cold magic I could channel.
It was not happy.
The wyrm roared and thrashed and somehow twisted in such a way that its tail was lifted high in the air. It snapped off a couple of stalactites from the ceiling, then snapped downward towards me like a titanic hammer. As soon as I saw it, I teleported about a quarter of the way around the cavern, then was knocked off my unsteady feet with the force of the blow. The wyrm thrashed, whipping its tail back and forth as its head swept left and right, looking for me. Its mouth began glowing red again as it prepared its breath weapon.
But this gave me an idea. I may not know a lot about magic yet, but I knew a few things about thermal shock.
Immediately, I conjured a steady blast of freezing cold, bathing the wyrm’s head and neck. It quickly turned its head, spewing flames across the floor of the cavern in a wide arc. I teleported across the room, almost directly in front of the beast, and I hit it again in the head and neck as soon as it ran out of breath. It turned its head towards me again to snap at me, but I kept the flow of cold on it until the last second, teleporting away as it snapped its head down. This time I appeared where I’d been a few seconds ago, and I hit it again with a blast of cold, focusing on the head and neck. It inhaled deeply and breathed out another cone of fire, this time charging toward me as it did so. As soon as the flames came out, I teleported to the place I’d just left and hit it again with the cold when it ran out of breath. It roared in pain and frustration.
This time, it did something new. It tucked in its massive legs and rolled over and over, crossing the cavern in a couple seconds, crushing everything underneath it. Dust was flung everywhere, and with the strobing effect of the gem’s light, I couldn’t see a place to teleport to. I turned and ran away from the beast, trying desperately to get to a tunnel entrance. It was right behind me, crushing rock as it rolled, pelting me with rocky debris as I ran with everything I had. I dashed into a tunnel entrance just before it smashed into the side of the cavern, stopping it abruptly. I was already off balance, so I dropped to the ground, rolled once, then lay as still as I could on the floor of the tunnel. In the cavern, the wyrm thrashed about, roaring, then rolled back the other way one time, casting its gaze about, trying to find me. I was alive, but I was stuck.
I still couldn’t see anything outside the tunnel except a slight green glow and weird shadows moving everywhere. I tried to stay as still as possible, but it took a lot of willpower to not cough. Fortunately, my gasping was drowned out by the sound of the wyrm moving around. While it was sweeping its tail everywhere trying to find me, I quietly took off my shirt, folded it in half twice, and tried to stuff it inside my helm to cover my nose and mouth, but I had to hold it in place with my left hand. My eyes were still full of grit I couldn’t blink away, but it was better than nothing. The wyrm still thought I was in the cavern. Slowly, I crawled forward to the tunnel entrance, trying not to disturb the rocks and give myself away. I was tempted again to teleport back to the keep, but once again I thought of Mira. Then I had another idea.
Carefully gauging the distance to a tunnel entrance three away from the one I was in, I filled myself with as much magic as I could channel. Then I hurled a spear of ice away from me and across the cavern, hitting a tunnel wall about ten feet in. The wyrm, head came around instantly, blasting fire into that tunnel. I wasted no time and hurled as much cold magic and as concentrated as I could manage into the neck and head of my adversary. It swung its head around, spewing fire everywhere, but it ran out of breath before it got to me. It worked! I kept blasting the wyrm as it charged my tunnel, only teleporting to the tunnel I’d scouted at the last possible instant. Then I refilled myself with magic, hurled another spear of ice across the cavern, and watched as the wyrm turned and charged away from me. It slowed halfway across the cavern, and breathed out fire in a wide arc, covering as many tunnels as it could, but its fiery attack was exhausted in about half the time that its first attacks lasted.
It was weakening.
Again, I hurled as much cold magic at it as I could, focusing on its head and neck, and it roared in pain as it turned to attack me again. As it drew nearer, I once again teleported to another tunnel mouth, but this one was all the way across the chamber rather than three tunnels away. I shot a spear of ice into a tunnel three away from where I just was, and it blasted the whole area with fire again. This time, its breath was exhausted in half the time of the previous attack, and I blasted it again with cold as soon as the fire stopped. It was moving slower now, and its roars sounded a lot softer. Maybe I was going deaf, though.
Once again it turned and attacked, but this time it stopped short and used its tail to smash the entrance of the tunnel I was in, completely collapsing it in one blow. I had already teleported away to a new one, and I watched as it systematically began demolishing tunnels. That was trouble. I hit it again with as much cold magic as I could channel. It didn’t have to turn very far to see me this time, but I kept pelting it in the head with the freezing cold until it got close. Its mouth glowed red as it gathered its breath. Suddenly, there was a resounding crack as the beast’s armored head split into three jagged sections. It roared in renewed agony, and it doused its flames at once as it recoiled. It spun completely around, smashing its tail against the tunnel, but I was already gone.
I flung a spear of ice from the tunnel mouth I was now in across the cavern to a different tunnel, and the wyrm flung its tail against a tunnel entrance in the wrong part of the cavern. It had never missed a target by that much before, and that gave me some hope. I hit it with another deluge of cold magic, but it tucked its wounded head behind its body and slapped at me with its tail. The blow fell far short. I was ready to teleport away, but instead I kept the cold magic raging around its upper body. It tried to back its way towards me and slap me with its tail again, but it hit another tunnel. It thrashed and flailed about, but I kept hitting it with cold magic, always aiming for the head and neck when I could. It couldn’t breathe fire anymore, but it was crazed with pain and fear, something it had probably never experienced before.
The wyrm rolled and thrashed, but now it was losing scales. Big ones. And it still didn’t know where I was. I could see the flesh where it was missing scales, and it was covered in rime, turning purple, but I did not relent. I kept at it until it was barely moving, then I focused on its head and neck. I didn’t know how resilient it was, and I didn’t want to take a chance on it regenerating damage and healing over time, so I froze it one piece at a time, and then started blasting those pieces off with concentrated cold and concussive force.
Only after I’d blasted its head completely off did I stop. It was fear that did that to me. I started shaking, and it wasn’t from hunger. I put my shirt back on and paced back a forth for a few minutes, coughing and trying to get myself under control before I approached. It was completely still. Definitely dead. Not faking. I found the gem, which was still in a wyrm’s death grip, lying a dozen paces away from the beast’s head. The Arboreans would probably want proof the wyrm was dead, and this would do nicely. I picked up the talon, still coughing, but thankful to be alive.
The place I really wanted to be right then was home, but I didn’t want my mom to see me like this. I was covered in dirt, bleeding from a half dozen places where rocks had hit me, but I was all right. No cuts were deep, so I didn’t want to trouble Elle for healing. If I did that, then I’d end up telling her everything, and then she’d tell someone, who’d tell someone, and then the story would get back to my mom, who’d be worried, then dad would box my ears or something for making her worry for me. So, I just sucked it up and teleported back to Stonekeep Castle and cleaned myself up in the suite I planned to use once I was again a free man.
When I was calm, cool, and collected again, I used the Throne to get a view of the Arborean leaders, specifically Palenial. They were all standing close to the table and pitcher, talking amongst themselves. I didn’t feel very comfortable teleporting to a place I either wasn’t familiar with or couldn’t see, so I opened a portal on the other side of the room, close to the entry so I didn’t scare anyone, picked up my pack and the huge talon holding the gem, and stepped through. I crossed the room and set the huge paw down before them, where the emerald glowed brightly.
“Praise the Creator!” Palenial said brightly. “We weren’t sure you would be coming back!”
“Certainly not so soon,” Asharien said cautiously. “Is it really dead?”
“Sure is.”
“I didn’t think it could be killed,” Asharien said. A little smile started to appear, just the barest hint of one.
“I wasn’t so sure either, but it’s done,” I said.
A look of reserved hopefulness came upon the Chief Spellsinger then. “Can you restore the Lendoriathil now? Can you make it complete?”
“Look, I have some talent with fixing things, but I‘ve never tried to mend something that channeled magic before, so I don’t really know,” I said cautiously as I set my pack down. “Still, I’ll do my best to help you.”
Asharien reverently handed me the pieces of the staff, and I pried the crystal from the wyrm’s paw. Even though I had a very large amount of magical power that was part of me now, I wasn’t certain I could do it. I opened myself to the power of the Icosahedron and focused my will on mending the staff. A raging river of power flowed through me and into the first piece of the staff, faster than I’d experienced before, as if the staff was an empty lake being fed by the Deepflow. With some difficulty, I held the pieces together two at a time and let the magic flow through me. I could sense where the magic was needed most, but I couldn’t see it. I closed my eyes to aid in my concentration and let my higher senses and instinct guide me. I could feel the pieces knitting back together one at a time and the magic infusing the ancient wood in my hands. I could feel when the staff was physically whole again, and I added the crystal to the end of it. I then halted the flow of magic into the staff briefly as I tried to sense more. With effort, I was able to sense what kind of magic used to dwell there, so I continued the infusion of magic to fill the core of the staff to the potential that felt right for this particular relic. As a result, I knew its function intimately as I worked. When I was finished, I swooned a little to my left after the effort I put into it, but Asharien caught me. I opened my eyes to see the results.
The spellsingers were gathered around me with the Chief Spellsinger standing directly before me. The entire city was completely silent. Briefly, I wondered if that had ever happened before. I held the softly glowing, restored Lendoriathil out to the Chief Spellsinger, and he gently accepted it into his slightly shaking hands. He looked at it in wonder for a long moment. Every living being within sight was completely silent and still as he raised it above his head with both hands.
The Chief Spellsinger took a breath and began singing a song of such beauty that even though I didn’t understand it well, it still brought tears to my eyes. A very great natural magic was wrought, and the tree we were standing in began to glow faintly around his feet, with the glow spreading quickly throughout the entire trunk. I could see the branches and leaves above us begin to emit that faint golden light as well. The bark mended itself and branches that I hadn’t noticed before in their deadness began to bud and grow new leaves. It felt like the tree was once as decrepit as an old man, then was changed into a young, vibrant man in the prime of his life. The Chief Spellsinger ceased his song of renewal. There was a moment more of silence, and then the city erupted in song. No one sang louder than Asharien, whose face was ecstatic with joy. I could see all the surrounding trees full of Arboreans singing a grand chorus, and it was something I knew I’d never forget. My heart was with them. I could actually feel their joy, and I’m not ashamed to say I cried a bit in the emotion of the moment.
The Arboreans ceased singing their unified song after its natural conclusion, and a far less unified song filled the air as Arboreans throughout the city sang and danced to their own tunes. The Chief Spellsinger actually embraced me, he was so happy. I awkwardly returned his embrace, just happy to have helped them with something, much less something as significant as that which I did today. By unspoken accord, it appeared that the entire city was now preparing for a formal celebration. They put out garlands and long, flowing, silk banners as youths danced and sang on the branches that served as streets. The Chief Spellsinger looked like he almost couldn’t believe what had just transpired. He bowed deeply to me.
“You must stay with us for a celebration, High Mage. Please. Be our guest of honor,” the Chief Spellsinger said happily.
“I’d be honored. Only please remember that I must return to my homeland today to complete my quest.”
“Of course, High Mage. We will see to all of your needs.” He glanced at one of the four other elders and nodded, and that elder departed smiling, with a skip in his step. “Please come with me.”
The Chief Spellsinger led me around and further up the tree past several other open-air rooms with branches that provided a roof of sorts. Each room had a number of Arboreans that spoke happily with each other or sang while they worked to prepare a great feast. They all bowed to us as we passed. Eventually we came to the upper part of the tree where there were a great many branches woven together to create a huge gathering place. This place could hold several hundred people easily. I looked down at the edge of the platform and I saw that the ground was hundreds of feet below us. My stomach seemed to sink suddenly, and I decided I wouldn’t be drinking any wine or ale today. I needed to be in top form to persuade Lorond Washman to cancel his marriage plans. That reminded me that I still didn’t have the robe I needed and that I had left my pack with my gold down in the reception chamber. I had the feeling that I could trust these folks, but leaving a backpack full of gold to sit around unattended was not something I’d have ever done in Stonekeep.
I guessed it was around lunch time, so I had several hours before it would be dark in Stonekeep, and I decided to enjoy myself a bit. I’d never had a feast held in my honor, even when I’d done something to deserve it. I’d take the win this time and savor it, but I still wouldn’t brag about it. My dad never did it, so neither would I. It just wouldn’t be seemly.
The Chief Spellsinger didn’t have to direct much of the action. It appeared that everyone already knew what they were supposed to be doing. The Arborean females I saw were all lovely, delicate little things that made me feel like a giant. They were around four and a half to five feet tall and had a willowy grace that couldn’t be matched among humankind. The children were incredibly cute, too. They seemed to have these huge, bright eyes that saw the wonder in everything. They laughed and played while the adults set out tables. Everyone in sight wore silk. Now that I thought about it, I’d seen no clothes made of wool or cotton in the whole city aside from mine. I wondered if I was doing something taboo by wearing what I was.
“Chief Spellsinger,” I began, “where does all the silk come from that everyone wears?”
“From the butterflies. You see, the butterflies lay eggs, then the eggs hatch into caterpillars which spin webs and eat until they grow enough to transform into new butterflies. The webs they spin are harvested, spun into silk thread, then woven into cloth.” He pointed at a particular branch.
I could see the webs stretching between the branches and leaves. That must have been the source of the glittering I saw earlier from below. “My thanks. I’ve been wondering about that. No one else is wearing anything made of wool or cotton, and I wanted to make sure I wasn’t violating one of your laws or something.”
He waved it away. “Think nothing of it. We wear silk because we can.”
We took a seat at one of the tables situated near the center of the gathering place and chatted as the preparations became dancing, dining and drinking. The Chief Spellsinger told me about life in Havanalil, and I told him about growing up in Stonekeep. He was only politely interested, it seemed. Under the politeness I think he was very content with their lifestyle in Elimhalar, particularly with Havanalil, and he probably considered life in human lands barbaric. After hearing about how the Arboreans lived and seeing the city firsthand, I could see the appeal. Humans were too different to be able to live in this way, I thought. It was a shame, really. We caused a lot of strife because of our differences.
The food we ate consisted only of vegetables, nuts, and fruits. There were no meat of any kind being served. There was such a delicious variety of food here that I didn’t even miss the meat. I was introduced to many people, several of which I guessed were very prominent members of society by the ornateness of their clothing. No one made a distinction of rank beyond the respect shown to their elders, however. All in all, it was a very pleasant way to spend the afternoon, and I could feel the aches in my shoulders from the stress of battle begin to melt away.
Eventually I felt that time was pressing for me, no matter how I tried to relax. My host must have sensed my restlessness, or at least the way I was squirming in my seat. The Chief Spellsinger beckoned to a youth who had been standing close by holding my pack, then stood up. He held the Lendoriathil above his head silently, and all activity ceased. The gathered Arboreans patiently waited quietly for him to address them. He lowered the staff and turned to me.
“Today has been a great day! Much has been restored to Elimhalar this day by the hand of the High Mage Jeron Smith of Stonekeep. We are eternally in your debt.” The youth handed the Chief Spellsinger something shiny and set my pack before me in a single graceful movement. The Chief Spellsinger held up a gold ring that had the tree emblem of Elimhalar embossed on the face of it and showed it to me. “Jeron Smith, I name you a Friend of All Arboreans. Show this ring, and you can rely on any Arborean you meet for any aid we are able to give. May you have grace and peace follow you wherever you go.”
He put the ring on the ring finger of my right hand. I stood and bowed to the Chief Spellsinger, then I bowed to the gathered folk. “I’m greatly honored by your friendship, and I’ll treasure it always. I too consider all of you friends and allies, and you have but to call on me should you need my aid. I believe it’s my life purpose to help others in their time of need, and it was a genuine pleasure to be able to help you all here today.”
The cheered, which sounded like a great assembly of flutes, and smiled. The Chief Spellsinger raised his voice once again. “I can sense our friend’s restlessness and know he must depart. He is on a quest for love, you should know!”
More cheering erupted as my ears got hot. I think he was enjoying my discomfort in a good-natured way. I shook my head a bit with embarrassment as I picked up my pack. I could see purple fabric inside where the flap almost met the top of the pack. I slung it over my shoulder.
“Good luck on your quest, my friend,” the Chief Spellsinger said earnestly, briefly laying a hand on my shoulder.
“Thank you. Farewell.” With that, I simply waved goodbye to everyone and teleported away.
