Alaric looked around the group. “We’re not on a treasure hunt in the safety of these hills any longer,” he began.
“Yeah, nothing dangerous here…” Douglon muttered to Ayda.
Alaric ignored him. “Since Gustav is a Shade Seeker, he is most likely headed to Sidion.”
At this, Milly paled and Brandson shifted.
“Do you know where it is?” Brandson asked.
Alaric nodded. “I haven’t been to the Shade Seekers’ Keep itself, but I’ve been close enough to know where it is. Douglon probably does too.”
The dwarf nodded.
“It’s not an easy place to get into.” Alaric looked at Milly. “We need to go through Kordan’s Blight and get horses. We’ll drop you off at your home. Now that things are settled with Patlon, you’ll be in no danger.”
“Home?” Milly asked, one eyebrow rising. “You’re not sending me home.”
“I suppose I can’t convince you to stay home, either, Brandson?” Alaric asked.
Brandson leveled a steely gaze at the Keeper. “Mallon killed my parents. I’m not going to just sit by and let Gustav bring him back.”
“We may not be great wizards or powerful warriors,” Milly said, “but we aren’t just going to go sit at home while you all go off to stop Gustav. A lot of regular people like us are going to suffer if Mallon is raised. It’s only fair that we should get to help stop him. You don’t have to be some great hero to contribute something good, you know.”
Brandson and Milly were sitting, chins raised, daring the others to disagree. Alaric nodded to them. “All right then. Does anyone have any ingenious ideas on how to stop him besides chasing him across the country? I think we have to assume he has the cooperation of his dragon, so he’ll be moving a lot faster than we will on horses.”
“Could you draw Gustav back here the way he drew everyone?” Milly asked.
Alaric shook his head. “An influence spell can prod someone in the direction that you want them to go, but once they realize it’s happening, it’s worthless. I don’t think I could fool Gustav into thinking he wanted to come back and find us.”
“Can you do something else magical?” Brandson asked. “Grab him and bring him here or make some sort of glowing trail to find him?”
“It doesn’t work that way. Magic is pretty limited. Everything living has energy. Magic involves redirecting that energy. To do that, it has to travel through me. But it’s like heat—a little is okay, too much burns.” He held up his bandaged palms.
“But Keepers in the past have done amazing things,” Milly said. “What about when Chesavia fought the water demon?”
“Chesavia was killed by the water demon,” Brandson pointed out.
“Actually, she wasn’t,” Alaric said. “Chesavia died because she used too much magic. The demon was strong, too strong to be destroyed without Chesavia using more energy than she could manage. She knew it. She chose to continue past what her body could handle. She defeated the demon, but it cost her her life.
“Keepers aren’t great wizards or powerful warriors, either. Chesavia was one of the few who single-handedly saved the day.”
“Then what good are they?” Douglon asked.
“We work more with knowledge than magic. We spend a lot of time watching for trouble, searching out the truth if we find the rumor of any. Then we try to assemble the people that could do something about it and provide them with the knowledge they need.”
“Well, that is perfect,” Brandson said, rubbing his hands together. “We’ve definitely found trouble, and the group’s assembled. Provide us with knowledge.”
Alaric laughed and Douglon spread a map of Queensland out on the floor. At the top, in tiny detail, rose the Wolfsbane Mountains. The great river snaked south from them until it flowed off the southern end of the map. The Scale Mountains ran down the western edge, and the Marsham Cliffs lined the eastern side.
Patlon pointed out the location where the nomads were rumored to be gathering to Douglon.
“That’s a huge valley,” Douglon told Alaric. “It’s well supplied with water. A large force could gather there.”
“How many are there?” Alaric asked.
“No idea,” Patlon said. “It’s all just rumors.”
“Isn’t that near the entrance of Duncave? Haven’t the dwarves bothered to see what’s going on right above their heads?” Alaric asked.
Patlon shrugged. “Humans are always wandering around on the surface. It’s hard to keep track of them.”
“You need to convince King Horgoth that he needs to,” Alaric said. “Queen Saren needs to know if there’s an army on her border. Douglon, where did you and Patlon find that valley with Kordan’s tower and the treasure map?” He marked the area Douglon showed him on the map, west and a little south of Queenstown along the edge of the Scale Mountains. “I don’t know why Gustav would go there, but he was looking for it when you met him, Patlon.” Alaric turned to Ayda. “Gustav will need to get Mallon’s body. Is it well hidden?”
“It’s safe in the Elder Grove, but not hidden. I didn’t know anyone would look for him. It might take the wizard some time, but he’ll find it.”
“I think we need to fix that,” Alaric said. “I doubt we can hide him so well that Gustav will never find him, but we can buy some time. How long would it take us to reach the Grove?”
“Three or four days,” Ayda answered. “But I don’t know a way to hide him that a Shade Seeker won’t figure out.”
“I think I can come up with some tricks that should slow Gustav down.” None of which would be pleasant. “I can at least guess how he’ll go about looking. Can you show me where the Elder Grove is?” Alaric asked Ayda.
Ayda glanced at the map. “It wouldn’t help you for me to mark it on the map. I’ll need to take you there. It’s near the northern end of the Greenwood.”
Alaric looked over the map. “I think we should go there first. Gustav will have to spend time searching while we can go directly there. It might help us catch up.”
“Then we’d better get moving,” Douglon said.
“Is it safe to assume that Gustav has left Kordan’s Blight?” Milly asked.
“He has no reason to stay,” Alaric answered.
“Then, if we head out now, we can have one good night sleep in my house before setting out tomorrow.”
The mood of the group was lighter as they headed to Milly’s. Alaric could hear the dwarves’ laughter ringing off the trees. Ayda walked along merrily near Milly, the two of them giggling and whispering to each other. In reality, they were in a far worse predicament than they had imagined when they trudged out of their camp that morning, but now they had a goal.
Brandson fell in beside Alaric. “Do you think we have a chance of stopping Gustav?”
If the wizard wasn’t on a dragon, it would be a lot easier. “We have a chance.”
Brandson was quiet for a moment.
“I was only twelve when the yellow plague broke out. My father got sick. My mother wouldn’t leave him, but she sent me off to the hills with my uncle.” He paused again. “No one who stayed in the village survived. My uncle went back with a group of men a couple of weeks later and burned it to the ground. Then he brought me to Kordan’s Blight where the blacksmith took me in. My uncle left to join the King’s army before the battle of Turning Creek.”
Turning Creek. King Kendren’s army had made their stand there against Mallon. The Rivor had brought legions of nomads and monsters no one could name. He had annihilated Kendren’s army. The king himself had been wounded with a poisoned blade. Alaric had tried to save him, tried to find some way to stop the poison, to draw it out. The king had only lived for two days.
“I never saw my uncle again,” Brandson said.
Alaric put his hand on the smith’s shoulder. “We’ll stop Gustav. And maybe in the process, find the way to kill Mallon.”
Brandson nodded. “Good, because Mallon keeps taking people from me. My parents, my uncle, and now Gustav, too.”
That night, the group sat around Milly’s table. The room was warm and noisy, full of smells of roast chicken and hot cider. Douglon and Patlon spun tales of ancient treasures lost and found.
The fire in the hearth had burned low and the conversation lulled when Ayda turned to Alaric. “Tell us a story, Keeper.”
There was enthusiastic agreement, and Alaric nodded. “Do you have one in mind?”
“Tomkin and the Dragon,” Ayda said.
Evangeline’s face, waiting expectantly the day he met her sprang up before his mind. Alaric looked sharply at the elf, but there was no mischief in her look.
“It’s a night to remember better times,” Ayda said.
Alaric looked into the fire for a long moment. He let his mind linger on the memory of Evangeline’s face, the eagerness in her eyes. Outside, the night deepened, drawing the edges of the world down into the small, fire-lit room. Ayda was right. It was that sort of night.
He pulled his hood up over his head and looked down at the floor, remembering an inn and letting the room fall into silence before he began.