Oath Keeper

Eliza sat in the crotch of a tree, near the traveler’s dehn, watching the creepy little Gnome— Check that. Watching Mehklok wriggle his delighted little tush into the mud of the river bank. A shudder of revulsion ran through her, but Mardu had made her promise not to reveal how much she hated the disgusting little worm. Because they needed him. So Eliza would just have to suck it up and play nice-nice with her former abuser. Figures.

Beside her, Scraw was doing his best to be even more revolting than the Gnome, working his pointy little beak up a long branch, digging and poking under the loose bark. Occasionally he would throw back his head in delight as he choked down another grub. Eliza shuddered every time. She was convinced his whole grub fetish was just more crow humor, meant to freak her out. So with the others occupied, this might be their last chance to chat without interruption for a while.

Where next? she sent.

I have given this much thought, Mardu replied, as Scraw found another package of ugh! and choked it down. We must convince three kings to set aside their war and return to the Anvil—to the very Bloodcap—and there to renew the Oath.

And don’t forget about the part where they sacrifice family members, Eliza added. That should make it easier. Everybody loves a family barbecue.

Mardu twisted Scraw’s head around and threw a glare of resentment at her.

Oops. Sorry. I forgot.

The problem, Mardu continued, as though nothing had happened, is how to convince them of our cause. To their eyes, we are but a mute girl, a cross-tempered crow, and a Gnome, and it has been the slaughter of Dragons even to assemble this many. Without followers—without a visible people behind us—we will appear as little more than a deluded rabble, demanding concessions from our betters. Not leaders of men, treating with equals.

You mean Captain Creepytime is part of the team now? He’s not, like, a follower? To pick grubs for Scraw or something?

“Scraw!” the crow interjected, voicing his approval of the suggestion.

Don’t you see, Eliza? Friend Mehklok may be key to our success. He is an ordained chaplain of an ancient order, who has built his life from convincing villagers to align themselves with hopeless causes. His are the skills that will complete our company and bring success to our mission.

But how does he help? We almost had four new recruits today, but dingus scared them off. What about that do-what-I-say magic you did back there, when you froze everybody? Can’t you just do that instead, but you know, bigger? Make them obey you? And if you did that, then we wouldn’t need him for anything.

Eliza tasted Mardu’s frustration and a hint of sadness over the link. No, Mardu replied. An oath made under compulsion has no substance. And what is more, the Flame of the Dragon That Was draws vim from Methilien himself, and from the remnants of the original Oath, but something is wrong. Something has changed. Even with the Oath in tatters and the Dragon withholding his vims from the Peoples, there should still be vim aplenty within the world. Enough for me to command the entire Gnomileshi Horde to sing songs of love and bake pies, yet there is not. I should not have used what little store I had. We will lament its loss before long, I think.

Great, so your batteries are dead. I get it. No hocus-pokus-take-the-oathus. Not any time soon, anyway. How long will it take to recharge?

I do not know. None of this is as it was supposed to be. I am having to… wing it.

“K-keh” Scraw said, lifting one of his own wings to salute the joke. Eliza smiled with him.

Okay, so no recharge, Eliza said. What about new batteries then? Can you switch to alkalines? Or car batteries or something? Maybe plug into a wall socket back home? Or maybe we don’t even need magic. What if we built up a big group of foll—

What? Oh. Sorry. I tend to just spout garbage when we’re brainstorming. That’s kinda what I do. And then Tayna usually stops me in the middle and says—

Yes, that might work.

Eliza’s eyes widened with surprise. How did you know? That’s almost exactly what—

You were jesting, but there is wisdom in the words, even if you did not intend it. Suddenly, Scraw stopped his grub hunt and flapped back down to perch in front of Eliza. I must seek something upon the wind, Mardu sent. Scraw and I will return shortly. Hold here until our return. Then they flitted off the branch and vanished through the foliage. Eliza didn’t even have time to ask where they were heading.

When fifteen minutes had passed and still Flame Girl and Robin had not returned, Eliza began to wonder just how long they might be gone. Was she supposed to wait here for an hour? Or a week? As she was pondering that, Mehklok grunted in satisfaction and began splashing muddy water up over his head. His back was toward her, and he was completely oblivious. His hearing would be impaired by all that mud and water. It would be one minute’s work to hop down from this tree, and sneak up behind him… There were plenty of fist-sized rocks scattered around by the river… Not that she would ever do that, of course. But it was a fun way to pass the time, and she soon lost herself in dreams of violent revenge.

What are you doing? A flutter of wings startled her out of her fantasy, announcing that Mardu and Scraw had returned. She opened her eyes and smiled guiltily.

Um, nothing. But you first, she answered. Where did you go and what did you find?

Scraw cocked his head at her, curiously. As you will. Your earlier words hinted at a solution. A possible source of vim. In honesty, it was not one I would ever have considered, yet you said we might ‘plug into a wall socket back home.’

Eliza laughed. You mean you’ve figured out how to power magic with electricity?

No, but there is one thing your world does have that might give me power. Power enough that we may yet bargain earnestly with kings.

Ooo! Is it Pop Tarts? I miss Pop Tarts.

No, Mardu said, shaking Scraw’s head at Eliza’s burst of silliness. It is the Dragon Grimorl.

We will draw our strength from the other Dragon.

They were heading south and west, toward the distant tug that only Mardu could feel. From time to time, Scraw would flap off, up into the forest canopy, and beyond, seeking altitude. Up there, separated from the confusing scatter of Methilien vim trickling in and around and through everything around them, Mardu could open her senses to the wind and seek out for that… otherness. She still couldn’t say what it was, exactly. Only that it was a relic of some kind. Some token of the Dragon Grimorl. It called to her from the south-west. Perhaps two days distant.

And it shimmered with power.

If Eliza had taken the time to think about things from Mehklok’s point of view, she might have been surprised by what she saw. To him, it was just he and the crow following their enigmatic young woman leader through the Forest toward their holy duty. Like a stone thrown straight and true, directly along the path of greatest good. But sadly, she did not take the time. All Eliza could see was herself stumbling around half blind, stared at by a lecherous mud monkey as she lurched along behind a schizophrenic crow with delusions of godhood.

Paradoxically, it was Mehklok’s perspective, more than her own, that would have made her feel better about herself. But for that to happen, she’d have needed time free from the plague of distractions and delays that hounded them.

All of the Gnomileshi variety.

It seemed they couldn’t march an hour in any direction without having to take cover at least once to allow a Gnome scouting party to pass by. Each time, Mehklok volunteered to simply talk their way through. After all, he was a powerful and well-known church official, and the Hordesmen would do his bidding without question. Probably.

But each time, Eliza had declined his offer, using Scraw to tell him that one should not question the Ways of the Flame. She hadn’t meant to capitalize the phrase, but hearing Mehklok repeat it many times over the course of the journey, the capitals had crept in there somehow, and now everything she did became part of the secret body of mystic lore being codified by Mehklok as “The Ways of the Flame.”

Through their near-encounters with the roving bands of Gnome scouts, they noted a few recurring themes. Each band was comprised of either three or four Gnomes—one of whom always carried a Goody urn—and most groups had one of the tall, white gorilla-like creatures with them as well. These were the Yeren, according to Mardu. A peaceful and utterly harmless folk, although quite rare. In her day, they had been connected somehow to the dragons, but nobody had ever figured out how. All that anyone knew was that whenever a dragon lair was discovered, there was usually a family or two of Yeren living in the same cavern. But the creatures of Mardu’s recollection had not been as pathetic as these she saw now, being led around on a leash by Gnomileshi Hordesmen, shuffling dimly like confused old men. They were quite dignified creatures, Mardu had said. Docile. Gentle. But not stupid. To see what they have now become is sad.

On the evening of the second day of their march, Mardu called a halt. What we seek is just ahead, she said. I can taste it from here, even above the Methilien vim that should drown its flavor with ease. To sense it should not be possible, and yet it is. Another puzzle for us to unravel, perhaps. But for now, remain here. Scraw and I will seek ahead. And with a flap of black wings, they were gone.

Earlier, Mardu and Eliza had decided that, in order to maintain the illusion of mystical presence, Mardu would not speak directly into the minds of any of the Followers unless absolutely necessary. Instead, everything said to them by the Flame would be in pantomime from Eliza, or from the screeching throat of the crow. So, with Scraw off reconnoitering, Eliza simply sat down in place, crossed her legs, and resumed the Praying Mantis pose. Another of the Ways of the Flame. This one meant, “I have no idea what’s going on either, and I don’t know what to tell you, so I’m going to look all magical and divine and stuff and let you guess.” The Gnome took up position beside her and amused himself by trying to contort his stumpy Gnome legs into a semblance of her pose.

Scraw returned a few minutes later.

It is here, Mardu said. But it is buried. Ahead there is a clearing, and through the clearing, a small brook flows. In the center of the clearing, the brook divides to flow around a circular island. From legs, it appears normal, but from the sky… Mardu included a crow’s-eye view of the clearing. With the sun nearing the horizon, the view was etched with deep shadows, but Eliza recognized the ring shape instantly.

An eye? To see what? Mardu asked.

No, not an actual eye. A ‘bullseye.’ It’s a mark you draw to practice shooting or throwing things. You put a bunch of circles around each other and then try to hit the middle one.

And these are drawn on a bull?

No. Forget about the word, Eliza sent. I only meant that it looks like a target—as though someone was planning to throw something. Something hella big and really important. Must have wanted to be sure they hit the right spot.

Perhaps they threw the dragon scale, then. It is not large, but it is buried deeply beneath the center of the island, which is the center of this bull’s eye. A circle of trees, surrounding a circle of grasses, around a circular bulge in the stream that contains a circular island.

Buried deeply? How deep?

Many strides, Mardu replied. I think. It is hard to be certain. I do not see it. I can only sense it.

So now we have to start digging. Great.

Yes. After we dispatch the Gnome guards, Mardu added.

Eliza shot to her feet. Guards? There are guards? Do they know we’re here? Why didn’t you tell me? That part should have come first!

I assumed you had seen them in the sky-view, Mardu said. But all is well. We are not discovered.

Great, Eliza replied, as she wrestled her heartbeat and breathing back to normal. She looked again at the mental image of the clearing and yes, she could see that there were three Gnomes standing still, arranged around a camp fire they had set in the middle of the island. They stood so still she had assumed they were rocks or stumps or something. Is there anything else you haven’t mentioned that might be useful? Any rings of fire around it? Does the dragon scale have a money-back guarantee? Will I get a free all-expenses paid trip to Tahiti if I circle the smiling monkey and act now?

You are very strange, friend Eliza.

Thanks, Eliza said, sticking her tongue out at her crow-shrouded friend. I love you too. Beside her, Eliza noticed that Mehklok was now staring at her in confusion. Oops. Gotta watch that whole talking to myself thing. Hopefully he’d just write it up as another mysterious Way of the Flame. Then she called Scraw to come settle on her shoulder.

It was time to tell the midget about the next step in their crazy plan.

“But I am certain they will do as I instruct,” Mehklok said. Again Eliza shook her head.

“Too risky,” she said, through Scraw, who was perched on her shoulder. “Need them scared. Running away. Not curious.”

But internally, she was much less confident. Any idea how we’re going to do that? she sent. Scraw shivered his entire body in a quake of uncertainty. Better let me see then. Take Scraw up ahead and show me what’s what.

Scraw flitted off into the night and Eliza turned to look at Mehklok. She still didn’t trust him, but she needed to see what they were up against. After a moment of silent contemplation, Eliza stepped past him, placing her back against a large rock that thrust up out of the forest floor. Then she settled herself down into her lotus position. She was just going to have to trust the little creep. With her back now at least partly protected against treachery, Eliza closed her eyes and reached out through her connection to the bird, leaving Mehklok to puzzle it out for himself in the growing darkness.

“You see through the eyes of the bird?” Mehklok asked, after a moment. His voice was quiet with awe. Eliza nodded her head. “That is truly—” Eliza held up a hand to cut him off. Scraw had reached a branch overlooking the glade and she needed to concentrate on what he could see.

As in the earlier mental image Mardu had shared, there were three of them, but seeing it live, sort of, rather than a memory, everything was much clearer. They really were guards. That much was obvious now. They stood in a ring around their watch fire, completely still, gazing outward into the surrounding gloom.

They’re not fools, Mardu sent. See how they stand with their backs to the flame? They protect their night eyes while the light of the fire illuminates any who would approach.

But why guard an island? Do they know about the magical whatsit underneath? Then she scoffed at herself. Yeah. Right. They’re in the middle of nowhere guarding a damp clump the size of our kitchen so that nobody steals the mud. Of course they know about the dragon thingy. But why leave it here and post guards? Why not just dig it up and take it back to Gnome-land with them? It doesn’t make any sense.

At least they don’t seem to be armed.

Do you not see the long pole each of them holds?

Well yeah, Eliza sent, but I was worried about, you know, actual weapons. Arrows or machine guns or magic phasers or something. Clubs don’t scare me so much.

Not even a magical club, forged from the wing bone of a dragon? The bone lance of a Gnomileshi Hordesman was a weapon much feared in my time. Capable of grievous charms over considerable distance. You truly do not fear it?

Eliza shuddered. Well, now that I know it’s not just a stupid club I do. Nobody told me the bad guys got magic spears, too. This just keeps getting better and better. Eliza’s inner eye flitted around the image, looking for anything else that might be useful. Hello, there’s the Tupperware.

That giant metal bowl on the grass. Beside the big guy in front. We keep seeing those. Every group of scouts we’ve seen has had one just like it—even the group that first night, back at the traveler’s dehn. And I’ve seen them in my world too.

Truly? What are they used for in your world?

For burying dead people.

So it is a thing of death.

Yeah. Pretty much.

“What’s going on? What can you see?”

Eliza shook her head to clear the crow’s vision from her mind, and opened her eyes to find the Gnome peering at her anxiously, with an almost reverent awe. Even though she was sitting on the ground, Eliza did not have to look up very sharply to meet his gaze. She shook her head briefly and then held up a hand in the international goddess gesture for “leave me alone you little twerp, I’m busy.” Mehklok bowed his head in apology, and Eliza closed her eyes once more.

In a moment, she had reoriented herself to the full-surround crow-o-ramic vision, and as she examined the scene, it occurred to her that something was missing. Where’s the Yeren? They had asked Mehklok why every Gnome squad seemed to include a Goody urn and one of the tall, white-furred creatures, but he had been just as perplexed as they were. Or at least, he’d said he was.

She is asleep in the forest, Mardu answered. They have tied her to a tree and left her with their packs and supplies.

“Tell me what you see in the flames!”

Eliza sighed. Doesn’t look like there’s anything else to see here. Let’s regroup and figure out a plan. I think Junior’s wet himself or something. He doesn’t seem to be able to go five minutes without somebody telling him what a pretty monkey he is. She opened her eyes and then let out a yip of fear. Frustrated at not knowing what was going on, Mehklok had leaned in so close that he appeared to her opening eyes as a touring menace, looming over her, as his voice still echoed in her memory. “… what you see in the flames!”

And suddenly, Eliza knew how they were going to get rid of the Gnomes.

It might work, Mardu agreed. But I am so weak. I should be replenished by now. Or Scraw should be. Something is very wrong. There is scarcely any vim left in the world and we have gathered but little. I do not know if it is enough to work a fire charm from here.

But it can’t hurt to try, right? If you can’t do anything, there’ll be nothing for them to notice.

After discussing Eliza’s idea for some time, Mardu admitted that she knew a charm that might work. Something called a “fire puppet.” It was a simple charm that parents often used to entertain and even educate children—making characters and shapes appear in the flames of a cookfire, where they could be moved about to re-enact great battles or demonstrate a difficult task. But Mardu was not optimistic. A full fire puppet, she admitted, would require a lot of vim, and a lot of concentration too. It was considered quite an art to be able to sculpt the flames using nothing but your imagination, and she did not believe she was strong enough for it. But there was a much easier version of the charm, and that’s the one they decided to try with the guards.

The difference, she explained to Eliza, is where the image comes from. I do not have even a portion of the vim that I would need to create visions from nothing. But if there were a model. Someone to pantomime the movements… Then I could simply project the sights before me to guide the flames. A much simpler charm. As soon as we know what we are going to project.

Surprisingly, it was Mehklok who provided that last part.

“It is said that when a sky-dwe… when a Wasketchin faces a great problem, he will speak his question to the trees, seeking the wisdom of the dragon. Is this true?”

It has nothing to do with dragons, Mardu said. But yes. My father put his great problems to the trees, as did his fathers. Trees are much wiser than any dragon.

Eliza nodded at the Gnome. It was true.

Mehklok seemed pleased. “My people also have problems,” he said. “Though we do not have so many trees. In the Throat of the Forest, when one has a great difficulty, one speaks his question to the flames.”

Eliza raised an eyebrow. Oh really? Do tell.

“There is much to hear in the roars and whispers of fire,” Mehklok explained. “It is the Dragon speaking with tongues of flame and the voice of fire. All Gnomes are taught to fear the fire voices, and to obey. To do otherwise is to spurn great wisdom and play games with the future. Some have even seen visions in the flame. Visions that tell them to do all manner of things. Sometimes terrible things. I myself would not trust the urgings of a burning stick, but these guards are simple. They will fear. And they will follow.”

Chapter 19