to you. I have to go tend to my fallen comrade now.”
Hyden looked at Vaegon. The elf’s sad expression showed no less concern that Hyden felt, but he indicated, with a nod of his head, that they should follow the soldiers anyway.
Hyden sought out Talon’s vision as they made their way through the maze of cobbled paths that led to the palace. He half expected to see groups of Blacksword soldiers waiting in ambush behind shrubs, and in the trees, but there were none. That in itself was alarming.
It was a mild, late summer night. The sky was clear, and the stars were starting to shine overhead. Hyden couldn’t see the moon yet, but the point of his observation was that there should be people out in this clean and beautiful expanse of greenery. As a matter of fact, the whole place should be filled with the refugees, who were crowded in their own filth on the outskirts of the city.
Suddenly, Talon’s sharp eyes saw something flashing through the trees at great speed towards them. Hyden left his thoughts, and focused in on the sight, and then it all made perfect sense to him.
Huffa and Oof were tearing through the forest, towards the lake, at breakneck speed. By the way their tails danced about in the air, Hyden could tell that there was no alarm, they were just excited to see Urp. No one was out in the park, because the wolves were loose in it. Hyden figured that the wolves had caused the nervous looks, and the uptight demeanor of the soldiers that were escorting them as well.
“Have they been fed?” Hyden asked one of the men, as Huffa came streaking by. A few of the horses balked at the sight, but the men riding them did a good job of keeping them under control.
“A leg of lamb for the two this morning,” the commander answered. “She ordered a hunt be made this afternoon, so there should be a doe or two about, any time now.”
“Could you put out another leg while they wait?” Hyden asked. “Urp, the wolf that came in with us, is injured, and exhausted. He needs rest and food badly. His master, King Aldar, of the realm of giants, would appreciate the kindness, I’m certain.”
The last bit, he said with an air of authority, doing his best to imitate Mikahl’s stately tone. The way the blood drained from the man’s face at the mention of the Giant King, told Hyden that the matter would be promptly handled. He would have asked about Mikahl then, but they had come up under the long entry that sheltered the grand stairway leading up into the intricately carved entrance to the Palace of Xwarda.
Men were waiting to take the horses. When they dismounted, both Vaegon and Hyden nearly fell to the ground in agony. The ache in their inner thighs and lower backs assaulted them as soon as they were on their feet. Neither had ridden a horse before the long ride from the camp. The saddles had looked more comfortable than a wolf’s back, but now, it was all the two them could do to stand upright without moaning or stumbling over.
Hyden’s will to make a good impression, and not show weakness to these people, who may or may not be an enemy, helped him master his pain. Vaegon cheated, and spelled his pain away. Under another circumstance, Hyden might’ve made a jest about the discomfort, but Mikahl’s dire situation hung heavily in the air, and smothered away any mirth that tried to manifest itself.
They were greeted at the top of the stairs by a dwarf. Neither of them had ever seen a dwarf before, and it was shocking. The man was apparently used to the reaction, and didn’t take offense to the slack jawed expressions he received. Hyden wasn’t sure, but he thought that the dwarf might not have ever seen an elf before either. Either that, or the patch over Vaegon’s ruined eye socket held a particular interest to him. A silence hung over them all as they took each other in.
To Hyden, the dwarf looked as if a normal size man had been smashed down to just over waist tall. His shoulders and waist were as wide and thick as any man’s, only compressed down, as if a Mammoth Shagmar had stepped on him. The dwarf’s hair was a nested mop-like explosion of graying tangles that seemed to erupt up out of his uniform, and spilled down over his shoulders. A huge, bulbous nose parted a set of heavy, white eyebrows, under which the sparkle of dark, yet merry, eyes could be seen. His beard flowed down over his ample belly, the tip of it nearly touching the floor, and only a trace of bottom lip could be seen under his mustache.
“Dugak’s the name,” he said, in a deep grumbling voice.
He bowed, and might have been smiling, but it was hard to tell through all that hair.
“She has been waiting for you in the dining hall. There are refreshments to be had there as well.”
He indicated for them to enter through the open doors. Hyden went first. Vaegon followed, and was glad that no one tried to take Ironspike from him, because he wouldn’t have let it go.
Hyden wondered who “she” was. At first, he had assumed it was going to be the woman they had met in the forest, but now as they walked, with loud echoing steps through the beautifully decorated corridors of the palace, he began to think that this “she” that was waiting for them might be Willa the Witch Queen herself.
The palace didn’t seem like the sort of place a witch would live in, mused Hyden. It was definitely fit for a Queen though. Tapestries, depicting sceneries of all sorts lined the walls of the wide passage they were in. Every so often, a small, but bright lantern was ensconced on the wall. They passed a few open doorways, which gave the impression that the darkened rooms beyond them were cavernous, and as majestic as the rest of the place.
At a crossing of hallways, four suits of armor stood at the corners. Hyden couldn’t tell if there were men standing perfectly still in the suits, or if they were just for decoration. He tried to peer into a face plate of one helmet, but couldn’t get a good enough look to tell. He found himself peeking back over his shoulders, to try and catch one of them moving.
Vaegon was contemplating the lighting in the corridor. It didn’t correlate with the widely spaced lanterns, or the limited amount of illumination that they were providing. He noticed that the high ceiling wasn’t marble, like the walls and floor were. It was bright to look at, and probably made of Wardstone, spelled to a soft and steady glow.
They eventually ended up entering a dim, formal looking dining area. The room was multi-leveled, and on the lower floor, three long identical tables sat empty. At the far end, on an elevated stage-like rise, was another table. This area was lit up with flickering torches on ornate stands, and the table was laden with platters of food and drink.
The woman, who had brought Mikahl back from the forest rose to greet them as they came in. She wasn’t wearing her armored girdle, or her riding boots anymore, and her hair was no longer in its single braid. Her golden locks flowed like a waterfall over her shoulders. And the pale, blue formal gown she wore fit her shapely body well.
Another dwarf, a servant or attendant, rose beside the lady. This dwarf might have been a female, it was hard to say. It had well groomed hair, long lashes, feminine brows, and even the pronounced bulge of breasts under its garments, but, the well groomed beard that flowed down to its waste was thick, full, and disorienting. Neither of the companions pondered the dwarf’s gender very long, because the look on the human woman’s face was so sad and grim that their concern was only for Mikahl.
Hyden was so suddenly consumed with grief, that he didn’t even hear Dugak introduce the woman.
“Welcome to the Wardstone Witch’s hall. Willa Undite, the Queen of Highwander has been expecting you.”
Chapter 49
“Shoookin,” the wounded Choska demon called out an ethereal feeling for Pael.
It sensed the demon wizard at the edge of the Evermore Forest, north of the ruined city of Castlemont, not far from where King Jarrek, and the Highwander wizard, Targon, had killed the wyvern that had attacked them. The Choska found Pael there on his hands and knees.
The wizard was searching the ground for a certain type of mushroom, one that only grew in the shadow of the Evermore’s gray oak, because the spore fell to the ground in the droppings of the scarlet sparrows that nested there. He had already collected several dozen of the purple and yellow spotted mushroom caps, but figured that he needed twice as many more to get the yield that he required. He was growing frustrated over the amount of labor involved in his search, and he was missing Inkling, who excelled at tasks such as these. As the morning wore into the afternoon, the sun’s rays began dissolving the poison out of the mushrooms, leaving them white, chalky, and
