Read The Quest for the Trilogy: Boneslicer; Seaspray; Deathwhisper Online

Authors: Mel Odom

The Quest for the Trilogy: Boneslicer; Seaspray; Deathwhisper (56 page)

BOOK: The Quest for the Trilogy: Boneslicer; Seaspray; Deathwhisper
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Then Craugh spoke a Word, just a single Word, but it boomed so loud that Wick was never certain what it was. Frollo seemed to collapse into the charcoal-gray Grandmagister's robes.
By the time Wick blinked, Grandmagister Frollo had disappeared. His robe lay on the floor.
“He's killed the Grandmagister!”
someone shouted.
Again, Wick discovered that it was himself. And it was no wonder that he didn't recognize his voice because it certainly didn't sound like him. He'd never spoken so high-pitched.
“The wizard's killed the Grandmagister!”
Now that
, Wick thought as he held his hand over his mouth,
was not me!
“Craugh vaporized Grandmagister Frollo!”
“Someone get the dwarves!”
Two of the Novice Librarians and one First Level Librarian standing nearby fainted dead away and lay sprawled on the floor. Other Librarians moved back from them as if they feared Craugh had slain them as well, and that death might be catching.
Metal clanked as dwarves ran into the room and drew their weapons. They held pikes and battle-axes and stood at the ready. None of them appeared ready to jump Craugh. The green embers continued circling the wizard's head and tall hat.
“Wait for Varrowyn,” one of the dwarves whispered, and it was so quiet in the main chamber that it sounded like a shout.
Several of the Librarians started edging away.
Craugh threw a hand out. Green lightning jetted from his hand and arced over the heads of the Librarians. The Librarians, from Novice to First Level Librarian, dropped to the floor. (And it was a good thing the Vault of All Known Knowledge was enchanted with the water absorbency spell, because more than a few robes were suddenly drenched.)
“No one leaves!” the wizard ordered.
“Aren't you dwarves going to get him?” one of the Librarians demanded.
“Uh,” the sergeant-at-arms among the dwarves said. “Mayhap we should await Varrowyn's decision on this.”
“He
vaporized
the Grandmagister!” someone cried. “You're supposed to protect the Grandmagister and the Library!”
“Well,” the dwarf said, peering at the pile of robes, “it's a little late to protect the Grandmagister. An' the Library don't appear to be in no immediate threat of harm.”
“Cowards!” another Librarian shouted.
The dwarf frowned and turned to the warrior next to him. “Did ye see which one of them quill-pushers said that?”
Before the man could reply, Varrowyn ran through the door. Wick was impressed. For Varrowyn to be there all the way from the front gate in such short time was impressive with all the armor he wore.
“What's goin' on?” Varrowyn held his battle-axe at the ready before him. “Where's the Grandmagister?”
All the Librarians pointed at the charcoal-gray robe piled on the floor.
Varrowyn's eyes widened in shocked surprise. “What happened to him?”
All the pointing fingers shifted to Craugh.
Varrowyn stood there for a moment, and Wick knew the dwarf had to be really undecided about what to do.
Solutions
T
hen the Grandmagister's robe squeaked. Everyone looked at the material as it jerked and shifted. All breaths were held (except for Craugh's) as a lump foraged its way through the clothing and emerged from the robe's hem. A moment later an ugly pink and tan toad covered in black warts followed its blunt snout into the open.
“Craugh, you're going to pay for this!” Frollo squeaked in his new toad voice. He stood on his hind legs and shook his tiny little foot at the wizard. “Mark you well my words! You're going to regret the day that you ever—”
Quarrel had been holding Alysta in her arms, possibly so the cat wouldn't get stomped on in all the confusion. But Alysta (possibly giving in to her cat instincts and recognizing the toad as possible prey), erupted from her granddaughter's arms and leaped for the irritated toad.
“Cat!” Frollo shrieked. “No! Don't let it get me!” He turned and fled, but even with the alacrity of a quick-legged toad at his disposal, Wick knew Frollo would never escape Alysta's quick fangs.
Craugh took his hat from his head and flung it. Just as Alysta pounced toward the toad, the hat descended upon her and trapped her. Green sparks sizzled and it locked down onto the floor.
Alysta hissed and meowed in feline displeasure. But despite her best efforts, she couldn't budge Craugh's peaked hat.
Shrieking and squeaking, Grandmagister Frollo hopped from the room as fast as his tiny legs would carry him.
“Was that—” Varrowyn frowned.
“The Grandmagister?” Craugh asked. “Yes. It was.”
“Hmmmm,” Varrowyn said, squinting at the wizard, and showing how he'd risen to command with the blessing of all the other dwarves by demonstrating both sense and sensibility, “then the Grandmagister truly hasn't been harmed.”
The dwarves flanking Varrowyn sighed in unison and looked truly relieved.
“No. He's not been harmed a bit. I give you my word on that.”
“You can't just let Craugh turn the Grandmagister into a toad!” one of the Librarians shouted.
Craugh pointed at the speaker—First Level Librarian Cottle, Wick was glad to see—and immediately the Toad Librarian population of the Vault of All Known Knowledge doubled.
“Oh no!” Cottle shrieked. Then he too sped off, waddling from side to side because he made a very fat toad.
“Well then,” Varrowyn said, “since nothin's truly amiss”—he pointed toward the door—“we'll just go on back outside an' take care of guardin' the Library. Wouldn't want anythin' untoward to happen now, would we?”
“No,” Craugh said, “we wouldn't.”
Varrowyn ushered his command outside the Library. The main doors closed with a loud bang.
“Now,” Craugh said, turning to the Librarians, “on your feet.”
The Librarians moved incredibly quickly.
“I have a project that I need researched,” Craugh said. He dropped a hand to Wick's shoulder. “Second Level Librarian Lamplighter will be my emissary in this. Obey him as you would me. Address the tasks he gives you with all due haste, or by the Old Ones, your rumps will thump!”
The Librarians stood fearfully.
“Get your assignments from Second Level Librarian Lamplighter,” Craugh ordered. “Are you Librarians? Or are you
toads
?”
As it turned out, they all chose to be Librarians. Wick found himself in the middle of a panicked chaos.
 
 
The research took three days. Later, when he realized it had really been three days, Wick couldn't believe it. The time had seemed like hours, and Craugh had demanded updates on what he was finding out every few minutes. Once he knew how long it had actually been, he didn't feel quite so angry at Craugh for asking so much, but at the time it hadn't sat well with Wick.
When he was finished, he was exhausted. It wasn't that he was unused to hard work. The truth was that he worked hard every day. But he'd never had to think for so
many
, and all at one time, too. In the end, he'd finally had to make a much larger outline to map what he needed and from where he needed it.
He worked nonstop, feeding on the excitement of what he was learning. As quickly as he could, he compiled all the information into one journal, trying to figure out a timeline of when everything happened. And who had done it.
Finally, the reports started to trickle down. Soon no more information was
coming from the military libraries or the biographical section or the shelves containing tomes on magic and spells and enchantments.
Wick became a bottomless pit of knowledge. He hadn't ever before known how much raw information he could hold at one time. He had to start the journal over twice, then finally gave up and worked the pages in loose fashion, sewing them up later only when he was finished with them.
The whole time, Craugh stood guard over him. At first Wick had thought it was only to make certain Wick kept his nose to the grindstone and didn't get distracted. Then he realized that the wizard was facilitating the handling of the books, the organization of the presentation of the material, and the meals. Wick never had to ask for sustenance; it was there when he was ready for it.
At times he'd had to take leave of the chair to go to the privy, of course, but there was a lot of pacing involved as well. Pacing helped Wick think, and there was a lot of thinking to do.
But finally, he had all of it: the history of the three weapons that went into human, elven, and dwarven hands.
And he understood why Lord Kharrion had been interested in Dream at the start of the Cataclysm.
 
 
“What did you find out?” Quarrel asked.
Wick tried to find a comfortable spot in the back of the wagon. Craugh sat in the driver's seat and handled the team. The wizard knew most of the story, having patched it together himself as Wick had uncovered bits and pieces of the events that had tied Dream and the heroes' weapons together.
“Almost all of it,” Wick said.
“Who betrayed the defenders at the Battle of Fell's Keep?” Bulokk asked.
“That,” Wick acknowledged, “I didn't find out. Let me begin with the vidrenium that was used to create the weapons.”
The wagon creaked as it headed through the big gate past Varrowyn and the dwarves. Craugh had assured them that Grandmagister Frollo and Cottle would no longer be toads by the next morning, though it was the wizard's frank opinion that they could have used a life as toads for a while longer yet.
“Wizards and blacksmiths for centuries have labored to create armor that will withstand a dragon's fiery breath and sharp claws,” Wick said. “So far, there's only one thing that will do that without fail.”
“Dragon skin,” Quarrel put in.
“Exactly. However, getting dragon skin to make armor with presents two problems.”
“Ye hafta kill the dragon,” Bulokk said.
Wick nodded. “Also, cutting the dragon skin is almost impossible. If it's magicked in any way to be made more supple and easier to deal with, it also loses its ability to withstand the attacks you're trying to design it for. So these wizards and blacksmiths of Dream came up with vidrenium. That's what they called the hybrid metal they created.”
“What's Dream?” Bulokk asked.
“Dream was a city,” Wick answered, “like no other. Built by elves, humans, and dwarves, it was constructed so that all the races could live there in peace and bring out only the best of each other.”
“It sounds too good to be true,” Quarrel said.
“Maybe it was,” Wick said. “The goblinkin hated it. Dream signified the eventual fate that awaited the goblinkin. If all people could come together in the manner that Dream did, it wouldn't be long before those races living there decided to effect a more permanent solution to having goblinkin living around them.”
“I could live with that,” Adranis said, smiling mirthlessly. “No goblinkin sounds awfully good.”
“Dream was the first city to fall during the Cataclysm,” Wick went on. “Lord Kharrion struck there first, knowing that if he could take the city he would strike a major blow against the morale of those who would oppose him.”
“Because each race would follow suit as they always did, and blame each other for the loss of Dream,” Craugh said.
“But I think Lord Kharrion struck there first because of the vidrenium. It posed too big a threat.”
“How did he find out about the vidrenium?” Quarrel asked.
“Lord Kharrion worked among the wizards and blacksmiths,” Wick said.
“And they knew it?” Alysta asked.
“No,” Craugh called back from the driver's seat. The horses' hooves slammed against the ground as they hurried along. “Lord Kharrion was there under another name.”
“What name?” Bulokk asked.
“Wazzeln Phalto,” Wick answered.
“No one knew that was Lord Kharrion?” Alysta asked.
“Not until later. The people who died there that day, I'm pretty sure they never knew.”
“Lord Kharrion worked on the invention of the vidrenium?” Bulokk asked.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because during the Cataclysm, he enlisted the aid of dragons. Shengharck and others like him. If the humans, dwarves, and elves suddenly came up with armor that might stave off most dragon attacks, he'd have to rethink his plans of conquest.”
“He went there to sabotage the creation of the vidrenium,” Alysta said.
“I think so.” Wick rubbed his tired and aching eyes. “It has to be what happened. It's the only thing that makes sense.”
But you're so tired after three days of no sleep that everything or nothing makes sense to you.
He smothered a yawn. “After the forge where the vidrenium was being made—had
been
made, actually, according to papers from Master Blacksmith Kalikard that survived the explosion, the invasion, and the subsequent shipping to the Vault of All Known Knowledge—exploded, the goblinkin attacked Dream and sacked the city. By that time, the vidrenium was gone.”
“Where?” Quarrel asked.
“It had to have been blown out into the Gentlewind Sea where the merpeople found it,” Wick said. “Or perhaps it was carried aboard a ship fleeing the city that was later sunk and the merpeople found it then.”
“How much later?”
“I don't know. It took Lord Kharrion nine years to secure his hold on Dream and the outlying country. The wars, the Cataclysm, was not an easily won thing. For either side.”
“Either way,” Bulokk growled, “this chunk of vidrenium found its way into the hands of the merpeople, then into the hands of my ancestor.”
Wick drank from the wineskin Adranis passed him. He was thirsty but he didn't want it to make him lightheaded. “Yes,” he replied. “It did.”
 
 
Of course, once they reached the Yondering Docks, climbed aboard
One-Eyed Peggie
, and got underway, Wick had to tell the story all over again for Cap'n Farok and Hallekk.
“Why did the merpeople take the ore to Master Bulokk?” Cap'n Farok asked.
They sat down in the ship's galley. The rest of the crew that weren't on watch sat on the long benches and listened. Wick knew the story would get repeated several times when he'd finished with it. Everyone would know.
“Maybe it was only chance they took it there,” the little Librarian said. “After all, who would have been interested in a chunk of ore? Even ore that looked different than any ore anyone had seen before?”
“Or because it were so different,” Hallekk put in.
“True.” Wick rubbed his face in an effort to stay awake. “The merpeople might have figured that difference made the ore even more valuable. At any rate, Master Blacksmith Oskarr took the ore back to his forge in the Cinder Clouds Islands and began working with it. He made Boneslicer, Seaspray, and the metal reinforcement parts of Deathwhisper.” Remembering the elven bow from the vision Craugh had summoned up, he was certain it had possessed metal reinforcement arms.
“Why three weapons?” Cap'n Farok asked. “An' why not all three of 'em dwarven weapons?”
“At this point,” Wick said, “I have to start guessing. But these are educated guesses. From the notes we discovered that were left by the wizards and blacksmiths, the originators of the vidrenium intended to make three enchanted weapons, one for a warrior from each of the races. They worked the magic of their designs into the metal as they constructed it.”
BOOK: The Quest for the Trilogy: Boneslicer; Seaspray; Deathwhisper
9.82Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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