Formatted MS-kindle-no map Page 14

  He turned his gaze back to the stone pedestal in the center. “The Stones of Wisdom are gone.”

  “What are they?” Navashay asked.

  Krys flipped to the proper page in the journal. “The powers of the land. There were nine stones that gave the kingdom control.” He glanced up at the empty pedestal. “Now they’re gone.”

  “Grimm?” she asked.

  “According to the author of the journal,” said Peter from the arch.

  Krys crossed the stone floor to the pedestal and dropped to his knees, staring at symbols that surrounded one of the holes. “We couldn’t see these when the journal showed us this room.” He traced several with his finger. He moved to another empty alcove, then another.

  Peter stooped at Krys’ side and gazed at the symbols. “They’re all different—I wonder what they mean.”

  Krys had never seen runes like these before. He opened the journal and flipped through the pages. When he found no reference to them, he turned to some empty pages near the back and scribbled the symbols there with the white quill.

  “What’re you doing?” Peter asked.

  “I bet we’ll have to decipher them to get the stones in the right place.” He rubbed the dust from another set of symbols and noted them in the journal.

  “If we ever find them,” Peter said with a shrug as he turned and walked away from the pedestal.

  Krys finished noting all the symbols, then joined Peter and Navashay standing in front of the curved wall that completely encircled the room. It contained ten evenly-spaced archways. Solid rock sealed nine, leaving only the one through which they’d entered the room open.

  “Why are these passageways sealed?” Navashay slapped her hand on the solid stone that covered one. “And where are they supposed to go?”

  “What if they don’t go anywhere?” said Peter.

  Krys shrugged. “We may never know.”

  “One of them could be like the arch leading into the Great Hall,” Navashay said.

  They walked the perimeter of the round room and pushed on the stone face sealing each archway.

  “No illusions,” Peter said when they had investigated each one.

  “Well,” Navashay said. “They’ve got to lead somewhere.” She held her hands against the solid rock surface of the covered arch in front of her. She shook her head. “Why would they be sealed?”

  “Maybe we’ll find out some of this stuff someday,” Krys said. He walked from the curved wall and spied Peter, standing at the top of the throne platform.

  Peter folded his arms over his chest. “What a huge piece of furniture.” He faced the largest one, then turned and settled into the cushioned seat. “Feels pretty good.” Sitting tall and straight in the throne, he pushed a stray lock of hair behind his ear. “Now all I need is a crown.”

  Krys felt a stronger rumble than the one when they first entered the room. Dust showered down from the ceiling and settled on the already dust-covered surfaces. Krys ducked and glanced above him. “Peter! I don’t want to stay in here any longer than we need to. It feels like this whole room is going to cave in.”

  “Look,” Navashay yelled.

  All nine of the archways glimmered and wavy images of unknown villages, forests and shadowed areas appeared. The effect lasted a second, maybe two, before reverting back to plain stone.

  Krys gazed at Navashay. “Did you recognize any of those places?”

  She shook her head. “They came and went too fast.”

  “Seems you may be right about them leading somewhere,” Krys said.

  “But where were those places?”

  “I don’t know,” Krys said. “But we don’t have the time to find out right now. Not that we even know how to use them.”

  He turned to Peter, who still sat on the throne. “Come on. We need to get out of here!”

  “But it’s not even rumbling anymore,” Peter said.

  “And we’re not gonna wait for it to start again,” said Krys.

  Peter rose with dignity and descended the steps from the platform. He stopped a moment on each one, then he sauntered toward the archway leading out, with his nose stuck in the air and his clenched fist laid across his chest in mock importance.

  After Peter took three steps, Krys let out an exasperated sigh. “For the love of Lanterra, would you please cut that out and get going?”

  Peter strutted past them.

  Krys rolled his eyes and sighed again.

  With a giggle, Navashay hooked her arm with Krys’.

  A warm flush spread through his insides. He walked, Navashay at his side, through the arch leading to the Great Hall.

  Back in the large room, Krys disentangled his arm from Navashay’s and opened the journal. He scanned new passages that had appeared. “Says here, we’re going to need some of the king’s possessions in order to recover the missing stones—his dagger, ring, and crown.” He turned to the map of the castle and headed for a spiral staircase that led upward. “The king’s solar is up here. It seems a good place to start.”

  “All right!” Peter rushed past and placed a foot on the bottom step. He turned around, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “More king stuff.” He bolted up the stone stairway. Krys and Navashay raced to catch him.

  Near the top, they encountered another dead warrior. He appeared no older than Krys or Peter. His eyes were barely visible under the over-sized helmet. His body didn’t come close to filling out the chain mail and armor he wore. In his gloved hand, he clutched a tattered scarf.

  Krys fingered the light material. “Probably belonged to his mother.”

  “You know warrior legend?” Navashay said. “I’m impressed.”

  “What legend?” Peter asked.

  “When a warrior went to battle,” Krys said. “He would carry something that belonged to a woman, generally a scarf or hand-kerchief. Since he is so young, I doubt he had a wife or other lady. So my guess would be this was his mother’s.”

  “Where do you come up with this stuff?” Peter asked.

  “If you read more, you’d know a lot more.”

  A bright red bloodstain covered the young man’s chest, in the center an arrow jutted from his body.

  “He’s so young,” said Navashay. She placed her hand on his cheek.

  “Eew, you touched him,” Peter said. He jumped back against the wall.

  “He can’t hurt us. He’s dead.” She narrowed her eyes at Peter.

  “That’s not what you thought when we came up on the warrior outside,” said Peter. “All you did was run.”

  “So?” Navashay glared at Peter. “Things change.” She ran a gentle finger along the arrow shaft. “He suffered before he died.” Tears glistened in her eyes. “He made it all the way here before the arrow finally killed him.”

  Krys wondered just how many people died in the battle so long ago. How many of them had been his age?

  Navashay reverently stepped over the young man’s legs and followed Peter up to the top.

  Krys followed after one last look at the young man’s haunting gaze.

  An old, dusty odor hit Krys’ nostrils, making him long for fresh air more than ever. They approached a large, wooden door. Krys turned the handle and pushed the heavy door open to reveal a lavish room.

  The king’s royal crest hung on the opposite wall. It boasted an attacking lion and its outer edge was wrapped with embossed vines.

  Krys stepped over the threshold and scanned the room. “The king’s chambers,” he said in awe. It felt as regal as he expected it to.

  Dust covered the floor like a thick carpet, and the ever-present vines choked out the hung tapestries. Two stone arches stood on opposite walls: one open, the other barred by another heavy wooden door.

  Peter stood next to the open arch and inhaled a deep breath. “This one leads outside. I say we check it out.”

  “We’ll have to do that another time,” Krys said. The latch on the closed door squealed in protest as he turned it. He pushed the door open
on stubborn hinges. The sight before him took his breath. “Wow.”

  [Back to Top]

  Chapter 16 - Tiny Troll

  “I’ve never seen anything this magnificent,” Krys said.

  “Me neither,” Navashay said as she pushed past him.

  “This is more like it!” Peter grinned and shoved Krys into the king’s inner chamber. Peter headed for a large wardrobe in a far corner.

  Krys turned in a complete circle; the thick, dusty rugs that covered the stone floor muffled his footsteps. He took in the entire room with one glance. A large, round table sat against the far wall, four high-backed chairs surrounded it. Two tall windows stretched to the high ceiling on either side of it. On the wall to the left, a massive gilded mirror hung above the hearth. On the mantle two silver candelabra flanked the looking glass. He studied his reflection in the mirror, feeling small and out place.

  Behind his reflection, Peter opened the door of the massive wardrobe on the opposite wall. He reached inside and withdrew a royal blue cloak with a white fur collar. He draped the fine garment over his shoulders. Too big for Peter, the cloak appeared to swallow him. He opened the other door and rummaged around inside the wardrobe.

  Navashay walked to Krys at the mirror. They both turned to watch Peter. After a few minutes, Krys sighed and shook his head, then returned to his scrutiny of the walls of the chamber.

  “My brother, Levin, doesn’t act near this—strange,” Navashay said. “How do you put up with Peter’s games?”

  Krys grinned. “Most of the time, I ignore him. It’s easier than arguing.” He studied the bronze oil lamps held by sconces anchored to the walls. “You have a brother? Older or younger?”

  “He’s two years older than me. We’re nothing alike. He prefers the excitement of the quarterstaff arena and I prefer a more quiet lifestyle.”

  Krys jerked his head around. “He’s a quarterstaff fighter?”

  “Hasn’t been beat in the past six years.”

  “At the annual championships?”

  “No.” She shook her head. “He doesn’t compete. It’s the thrill of the arena he craves, not the notoriety of the win.”

  “That’s the same way I feel,” said Krys. “I fight in the championship bouts, but I could just as easily not.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me.” She smiled at him. “You’re a lot like Levin.” She glanced at Peter, then back at Krys. “How many championships have you won?”

  “Three.” Krys gazed at the floor. “This would have been four for me.” He shook his head.

  “What do you mean by would have been?”

  “With everything that’s happened, I doubt I’ll even be there for the event.”

  She placed a hand on his shoulder. “What you’re doing is far more important than some silly old championship.” She smiled. “You’re going to free the legendary Wizard Raven and break this awful curse.”

  Krys blew out his breath. “I guess you’re right. I just hate handing my title to the likes of Zandur.”

  “Village bully?”

  Krys nodded.

  “I wouldn’t worry about it, Krys. Just wait ‘til you waltz back into your village with Raven. Everyone’s gonna forget all about who the village quarterstaff champion is.” She smiled again.

  “Zandur won’t,” Krys said under his breath.

  Navashay looked around the room. “So, where do you suppose we’ll find the king’s possessions?”

  Krys blinked, refocusing on his current surroundings. He turned around and scanned the room again. He pursed his lips and shook his head when he noticed Peter stretched out on the massive four-poster bed, still clad in the king’s finery. “Peter, get off of there! I don’t believe you!”

  Peter placed his hands behind his head and snuggled into one of the large fluffy pillows. “It’s comfy. You should try it.” Wisps of dust rose from the pillow and surrounded his face. He sat up and coughed.

  “Serves you right,” Krys said. “You shouldn’t be on the King’s bed.” His gaze traveled upward to the magnificent headboard that rose toward the ceiling. The king’s royal crest, identical to the one that hung in the outer room and on the keystone above the archway to the Great Hall, took up the center of the broad piece of wood. The sheer magnitude of the bed dwarfed the remaining furniture in the spacious room. “I would be careful if I were you.” Krys’ gaze fell back to his friend. “There may be something in that bed you don’t want to find.”

  Peter jumped off the bed and stared back at the lumpy covers. “You mean a ghost?”

  Krys laughed. “Maybe.” Still chuckling, he returned his attention to his conversation with Navashay.

  “I would think the king always wore his crown and ring,” she said.

  “But I doubt he wore them during battle,” said Krys.

  Peter walked to Krys’ side, brushing dust from the king’s robe and his hair. He pulled a griddle cake from his pack and took a large bite. “Good point,” he mumbled through a full mouth.

  “I’m betting he didn’t,” said Krys.

  “But he still could have been buried with them.” Navashay placed her hands on her hips and scanned much of the room. “He was the king.”

  “Which would make them a whole lot harder to get to.” Peter shrugged, removing the cloak and returning it to the wardrobe. He joined Krys in front of a massive oak washstand next to the round table. A large silver pitcher and washbasin sat on top.

  Across the room, Navashay dug through the contents of a small cabinet next to the bed.

  Krys stooped and pulled two drawers open. He rifled through pieces of linen with delicate, embroidered edges.

  Peter pulled a garment out of a drawer. He held it out and it unfurled in front of them. The undergarment had long legs and an oversized seat. Peter held it to the front of his body. The bottom touched the floor and the gathered waist stretched half way up Peter’s chest. He looked down at it and chuckled. “The king was a big man.”

  Krys knocked it out of Peter’s hand. “Put that back!”

  They inspected the contents of every drawer, yet found nothing of interest.

  Peter opened two small doors next to the drawers.

  Krys peered at the myriad of bottles within; they contained colorful liquids. He opened one and rubbed the fluid between his fingers. “Sweet oils,” he said as he sniffed his fingertips.

  Peter picked up another bottle and opened it. He smelled it and poured a small amount in his hand, then slapped the oil on the front of his tunic. He set the bottle aside and lowered his head, then took a large sniff. “Mmm.”

  Krys gave Peter a look of mild dissatisfaction, but he knew Peter would never change. He closed the small doors.

  “Hey,” Navashay yelled. “I found something.”

  Krys and Peter rushed to her.

  Navashay struggled to pull a large wooden box from the bottom drawer. “It’s really heavy,” she grunted.

  The box measured half an arm-length and about two hands wide and deep. Krys hefted the box from the drawer and moved it to the table by the windows.

  Peter leaned forward and blew the majority of the dust off the top of the box, waving the musty cloud away from them. “Wow!”

  “It’s beautiful!” Navashay leaned toward it, her eyes wide. “Like nothing I’ve ever seen.”

  “Someone spent a lot of time carving this.” Krys ran his fingers over the lid, feeling the smoothness of it. “And applying these jewels and pieces of gold.” He took in the beauty of it. He pulled on the lid, but it remained shut tight.

  “Try the key the old man was holding!” Navashay said.

  “Oh, yeah!” Krys pulled the ornate key from his pouch and slid it into the lock. With care, he turned it. A soft click sounded and he lifted the lid. Inside were seven velvet bags. He began to remove them two at a time.

  “Whoa!” Peter yelled as he pointed at one of the bags. Something appeared to be moving inside it.

  All three jumped back and stared as it press
ed against the end tied with a satin cord. The knot loosened and a tiny troll emerged from the shadows of the bag. Only a hand’s length tall, he was a miniature version of a full-sized valley troll. His head was not proportionate to his body. It was much larger. Its purple hair appeared oily and it stuck out in all directions. Small squeaks escaped his mouth. A filthy brown vest and tattered pants covered his muscular, grime-encrusted green body. His tail whipped around behind him and the tufted end slapped against the tabletop. He held a tiny club in a tight grip at his side. His worn out boots, covered with dried mud, made soft taps on the wooden table as he moved. He looked dazed.

  “Awe, isn’t he cute!” Peter stuck a finger close to the troll. It lunged at Peter’s outstretched hand and nipped at his fingers. With a quick snap of his arm, Peter withdrew and avoided the bite.

  “He’s not so cute, now. Is he, Peter?” Navashay chuckled.

  The troll ran across the table and jumped off the edge. When he hit the floor, he began to grow. In seconds, the troll grew to about an arm’s length tall.

  Krys backed up quickly. His foot caught the leg of the chair next to him, tripping him. Peter and Navashay bolted from the table.

  “Get out of there!” Peter yelled.

  The troll roared, ran toward Krys, and latched on to his leg with grimy claws.

  Krys tried to kick the troll loose, but the creature held even tighter. He raised his hand. “Dintabis!” He yelled, but the creature didn’t disappear. “Cala jarasis!” The troll remained his current size.

  “Magic isn’t working!” Krys screamed.

  Peter tried the same spells, but as before, they had no effect.

  The troll’s mouth descended on Krys’ thigh, the dark maw flashed sharp teeth that dripped with thick, yellow saliva. A guttural growl filled the room.

  Navashay, eyes wide with fear, pulled a chair between the troll and herself. “Don’t let him bite you!”

  “I’m trying!” Krys said through clenched teeth as he pushed back on the creature’s shoulders.

  Peter kicked the troll’s spongy body, knocking him off Krys. Krys jumped sideways, pulled his dagger from his boot and raced toward the troll. As he got closer, the creature grew again, now a head taller that Krys. He opened his mouth, growled even louder, and sprayed all of them with thick saliva. The troll rounded on Peter and they circled each other.