The Ventifact Colossus (The Heroes of Spira Book 1) (30 page)

“Maybe we should go searchin’ for that arch,” suggested Kibi.

Dranko blew rainwater from his lips. “Now? In this downpour?”

“We’ll be camping out in the rain anyway,” said Aravia. “The only place to stay in this town is where we just came from, and it’s filled with people under the effects of unknown magic. We can’t trust them.”

“We still have an hour or two of daylight left,” said Tor. “Why not check it out right now? Abernathy told us more or less where to look, and Aravia can cast her aura finder spell. And Levec could be at the arch right now. If he is, we’ll have found both things we’re looking for with just a bit of walking. Come on!”

At least it was a place to go. While none of the rest of the company seemed to share Tor’s optimism, they all seemed wary of the Inn of Enchanted Villagers. Ernie certainly was, despite the lingering and pleasant memory of Perri’s auburn locks. So off they marched, putting their backs to the southern end of the peninsula and heading inland toward the hilly forest where the arch was supposed to be. There was no road to follow, but a narrow weedy footpath along a low stone wall took them most of the way to the woods.

On the far side of the wall a farmer was out working in her field despite the rain, pulling up weeds from a row of young cabbages. She stood, stared, waved, then returned to her labor. Aravia slowed and dropped to the back of the line as she wiggled her fingers.

“She’s the same as the others,” she said, a bit breathless. “I wondered if maybe the Old Keg itself was the source of the enchantment, but my hypothesis now is that everyone in the town is affected.”

The forest was sparse and easily negotiated but still offered decent protection from the rain. Ernie pulled the soggy hood of his cloak away from his head.

“So, Aravia,” said Dranko. “Since it’s going to be dark soon, can you do your magic thing and get us where we’re going? I thought the whole point of you learning that spell was as an arch detector.”

“Yes,” said Aravia. “But I’ve cast it twice already in the last half an hour. I need a few minutes to recover. I’ll be able to cast it again, but I’d like to get a little closer to where we think we’re going before I do.”

The forest was dim and growing dimmer by the minute. Ernie remembered he had one of Aravia’s glowing coins in his pocket and pulled it out. It was still thrilling to hold an enchanted object in his hand, one created by a wizard that
he personally knew.
No, two objects—the sword Pyknite was magical too. Did it have hidden powers? Old Bowlegs had often said that his blade hated goblins; maybe he meant that more literally than Ernie had suspected.

“That’s going to wash out my darksight,” said Morningstar. “And give us away to anyone who might be watching.”

“But the rest of us have to see,” said Tor. “And if there’s anyone out here, I say the sooner we confront them, the better.”

Morningstar sighed. “We shouldn’t be so quick to—”

“Excuse me,” Kibi interrupted. He had also produced a shining coin and was peering at the ground ahead. “I’d say you can stop bickerin’ since it’s obvious where we’re headed.”

“Did the rocks tell you?” asked Ernie.

“Nope. I’m just noticin’ all them footprints where we ain’t been yet.”

Out came more light-coins, until everyone but Morningstar was holding one and bending low to the forest floor. Sure enough, coming in from behind them at a slight diagonal and leading off into the recesses of the wood was a trampled down swath of churned mud. Many sets of footprints were evident, though most of them, where such detail could still be made out, had been made by bare feet.

“That’s more than just a well-traveled path,” said Tor. “It looks like dozens of people have been coming this way for months.”

“There and back,” said Aravia. “The prints seem evenly divided in which way they’re facing.”

Ernie stared at the ground. “I wish I knew more about tracking. Can any of you tell how fresh these are?”

Dranko crouched and leaned until his tusks nearly grazed the dirt. “Pretty fresh, I think. I can still make out individual toe prints.”

“Then let’s follow them,” said Tor, and he bounded forward through the trees, leaving the others to either follow or let him go alone.

Ernie dashed to catch up. “Tor, remember what might be going on here. Abernathy said an army once invaded through the arch, and they might be trying again. Slow down and let’s stick together, okay?”

“If there were an army out here, we’d hear them,” said Tor. “Stop worrying so much.”

Ernie flinched; that was the sort of thing someone would say right before a hail of arrows or a rampaging bear attack. But the only sounds in the darkening wood were from the boots of the company and the drip of water down from the trees.

They discovered the Kivian Arch only ten minutes later—so hardly more than a half hour ramble from Seablade Point—and Ernie was overwhelmed by its immensity. He gazed up in awe, light-coin held in his upraised hand. It stood watch among the trees like a silent giant. The keystone must have been forty feet off the ground, and his parents’ house could have sat comfortably between the arch’s legs.

“Freestanding, triumphal, unadorned entablature.” Kibi, standing next to him, didn’t seem to realize he was talking aloud.

Ernie was impressed. “What does that mean?”

“Oh,” answered Kibi. “That jus’ means the top part a’ the arch is flat on top instead of curved, and ain’t got no fancy carvings.”

Dranko strode directly over to the nearest of the massive pylons. “I know this will shock everyone, but the footprints stop directly beneath the arch. So what we’ve got is, a whole bunch of townsfolk come out here pretty regularly in their bare feet, dance around under the arch, then go home again, and they don’t want to talk about it with strangers. Must be one heck of a party!”

“Could they be going
through
the arch?” asked Tor. “Maybe it’s already opened!”

“I doubt it,” said Aravia. “The mass of footprints is all around the area under the arch, on both sides of it. If they were going through it to Kivia, most or all of their prints would only be on one side.”

“No sign of Levec,” said Kibi. The stonecutter had joined Dranko standing next to the closer of the arch’s two squared pillars. He put his palm against it. “This ain’t any kind a’ ordinary stone I ever seen.” He held up his light-coin. “And it’s got metal in it.”

Intrigued, Ernie moved to join them. The surface of the Kivian Arch was knobbly, rough-hewn from something akin to granite, but darker and veined with thin black streaks.

“Ain’t natural,” said Kibi. “And it ain’t talkin’, neither.”

“It’s almost certainly magical,” said Aravia. “But it can’t hurt to be sure.”

That turned out to be an inaccurate statement. She twiddled her fingers to cast her magic-detecting spell, then with a cry threw her arm across her face before staggering backward and falling into the leafy mud. Ernie heard several others join him in his alarmed cry of “Aravia!” and Dranko was quickly at her side.

Tor hurried over. “Is she okay?”

Aravia groaned and sat up, one hand flat on the ground, the other rubbing her temples.

“I’m guessing that means it’s magic,” said Dranko.

Aravia seemed to try laughing; her shoulders shook a bit, but she was too weak to make much noise. Tor helped her to her feet, and she leaned against him, eyes closed, gulping air and coughing.

“I’ll…I’ll be all right,” she croaked, smiling up at Tor. “Wasn’t ready for that much magic. It was like having a room full of unshuttered lanterns aimed at my eyes at once. Not to mention I haven’t worked on any refinements to make casting
aura sense
less draining, and that was my third one in less than an hour. Not the smartest thing I could have done.”

Kibi stared at the arch, frowning, like he disapproved of it. “So what now?”

“I’ve got an idea,” said Dranko. “Since it looks like a crowd shows up here regularly, we should find somewhere nearby where we can hide out and watch without being spotted ourselves. See what happens. Maybe they have a way to open it. Maybe they just hang out and drink wine. Either way, we’ll learn more than we know right now.”

“But we can’t let them see us,” said Ernie. “And in the dark, how are we going to see them?”

“They probably bring torches or lamps or something,” said Dranko. Then he pointed to Morningstar. “And if they don’t, we’ve got her.”

Horn’s Company searched around the forest for a good twenty minutes before finding a suitably hidden thicket, far enough removed from the Kivian Arch that discovery was unlikely, but close enough for Morningstar to make out reasonable detail. It was possible, of course, that whoever showed up here would first search the surrounding forest for spies, especially if they included any of the townsfolk who had met the company earlier in the Old Keg. But they didn’t see any footprints near their hiding spot and did their best not to leave too many of their own.

Sunset brought with it a chorus of insect noises and the percussive brapping of bullfrogs. The night cooled a little as it deepened, and the rain stopped, though the cloud cover remained thick, blocking out moonlight and star-shine.

They ate an unsatisfying dinner of jerky and dried fruit, after which Aravia immediately fell asleep. Ernie sorely missed the Greenhouse kitchen, and sat in silence on a damp log, thinking about the pies he would bake when they got home. Presumably the Icebox would produce raw ingredients if he asked for them, and not just finished meals. How long would Icebox-conjured spices last? For that matter, some spices were rare and valuable, enough so that they could make a decent profit conjuring and selling things like saffron or asafetida. Eddings said the dishes vanished after a day, but did the food? He’d have to tell Dranko about his idea.

Ernie’s eyelids drooped as these thoughts flitted through his head, and eventually, lying on his back with his head on a passel of damp leaves, he fell asleep.

Then Tor was shaking him. “Ernie, wake up. Something’s happening.”

“Whuh?” he managed.

It took a minute for his eyes to adjust to near-total darkness. The cloud cover had thinned a little while he slept, allowing the faintest dappled wash of moonlight to reach the forest floor, and while Aravia was still out cold, Morningstar, Dranko, and Kibi had inched forward to the edge of the thicket closest to the arch. They were lying on their stomachs with their heads all nearly together, so they could whisper to one another as quietly as possible. He and Tor tiptoed over and lay down too, squeezing in.

Seven people had wandered up to the Arch from the direction of Seablade Point, two of whom Ernie thought he recognized from the Old Keg. One held a swinging lantern and another a sputtering torch. All seven were barefoot and dressed in nightshirts or sleeping gowns, but they showed no sign of discomfort at the chill night air. They weren’t talking to one another or communicating in any other way Ernie could see but milled about around the arch as if in a trance.

Over the next ten minutes another twenty-three people straggled into view, some by themselves, others in groups of two or three. Ernie’s breath caught a little; one of them was Perri, wearing a long white nightgown, her disheveled hair glinting in the light of the various lamps and torches brought by the others.

“What are they doing?” he whispered.

“Who knows?” answered Tor. “Let’s just keep watching.”

The assembled townsfolk slowly arranged themselves into a straight line, directly under the arch, stretching between its two columns. Some were facing away from the company’s hiding spot, while others were looking more or less straight at them. Thank Pikon their circle of light didn’t extend to the hidden thicket! Perri’s face was too far away for Ernie to discern anything of her expression.

All at once every light went out, plunging the Arch and its thirty visitors into blackness. But their eyes were pairs of little orange specks, hovering in a ragged line like a string of glowing beads, shining as though they were reflecting the light of a bonfire.

“That ain’t natural,” whispered Kibi.

The forest didn’t remain dark for long. A bright flame-orange light sprung up beneath the arch, filling its inverted U and enveloping the thirty villagers. It cast all the trees around it in a flickering glow, almost as if they were on fire, and it was easy to imagine that the people had also been set aflame. But there was no sound, no fiery crackling or torch’s hiss—just an enormous wall of light stretching the length and height of the arch.

Ernie nearly leapt from his hiding place, thinking that Perri and the rest were under some kind of magical attack, but Morningstar put a hand on his back and whispered harshly in his ear.

“We have no idea who else might be out there, and if we all go rushing out, we’ll be leaving Aravia unprotected. We’re here to gather information, so just watch and try to notice anything important.”

The townsfolk, now a line of glowing silhouettes, remained stock still for several more minutes, transfixed by the arch-light. It was all very dreamlike, the surreal tableau making little sense, particularly since Ernie had only recently been awakened. Maybe he
was
dreaming.

“Am I dreaming?” he asked Tor.

“I don’t think so.”