Cooper led the way west through miles of flat dry country.
The view north into the wastelands was marred by a heat haze. Not unusual, because during the day the wastelands absorbed heat then at night the temperature dropped so low, most creatures froze out in the open.
Low green hills to the south only drew notice to the flat, dry land, broken with brown tufts of grass between large patches of reddish brown dirt.
Dallas breathed dry hot air while he retrieved his water container and took another swallow. He replaced the lid and slipped the strap back on the cantle before he checked the other riders.
Mage Stantworth followed Cooper on a very tired mount. From the mage’s tense shoulders and jerky movements, Dallas knew he was still angry.
Next rode Cooper’s two men, which left Dallas and Misty breathing the dust raised from the mounts in front.
Not that he minded breathing dust, if it meant he could keep a distance between himself and Mage Stantworth.
Misty did not break the silence.
Dallas guessed she understood he was still angry with the mage for ordering him to ride without a break, not caring about the welfare of Swift and Sweetie, and the other mounts.
He smiled but did not comment when Misty moved Sweetie slightly forward of Dallas and Swift. She kept her eyes on the mage’s back, while one hand rested on the handle of her long knife.
Between Cooper and his men, and Misty, ready to defend him against Mage Stantworth, Dallas had nothing to do but relax and enjoy the view.
By the time they had travelled twenty miles the sun sank towards the western horizon, which highlighted the flat barren land. Dallas could only see brown dirt and brown grass clumps in every direction. Not one green willow, indicating a stream, grew in the parched land.
Nothing moved.
Dallas expected to see one or two goats, because they were the only animals that could eke out a meal from the sparse dry grass, but they remained hidden, or had left the flat edge of the wastelands long ago.
Through the distant heat haze Dallas thought he saw a long low hill covered in green grass or bushes. He blinked and focused on the horizon again. Still green. It could not be natural. The top of the raised ground was level and continued south for at least a mile.
As they rode closer, he noticed two stone chimneys rose higher than the flat ridge, and realised the hill was manmade.
One of the males turned and called to Dallas. “Almost home.”
Dallas urged Swift to walk forward until he was next to the male. “You built the hill?”
“No, grandparent’s generation did.”
The other male nodded. “Had to defend against those eastern mages when they tried to take our lands.”
Misty trotted forward and scowled at Dallas.
Dallas smiled back. He needed to talk to her about her guard duties one day. For the moment, letting her concentrate on guarding him kept her from boredom.
The sun almost blinded everyone as it hung on the horizon, but by the time they reached the raised earthen wall in front of a metal gate leading into a dark tunnel that disappeared under the wall, it set.
The rusty metal barred gate swung open and Cooper led the way into the tunnel.
While he waited, Dallas looked up and decided the wall had to be almost seven yards high. The covering of green grass stopped erosion of the dirt, but he could not see how the grass was watered. Then Misty ducked her head as Sweetie walked through the opening. Misty realised there was plenty of head room and straightened in the saddle. Dallas followed.
The male who opened the gate swung it closed and locked it before he walked down the tunnel behind Dallas and Swift.
Swift walked out of the tunnel into a large open square with single storey, straw roofed dwellings with on both sides. Narrow lanes disappeared behind the dwellings. Opposite the tunnel entrance through the earthen wall stood a three storey, rock walled building, with narrow windows on the ground floor and wider windows spaced across the upper wall. All the windows had shutters, opened wide to let light and air inside.
Dallas realised the massive building was the same style as all the multi-storeyed buildings in the city.
He noticed gaps where mortar crumbled and dropped away between the large odd shaped rocks. And timber lintels over each window and doorway, not smooth cut slabs of rock like in the city. No mage built the building in front of him.
Misty glanced up the side of the building, shrugged, then dismounted. She patted Sweetie while she waited for Dallas to decide what to do next.
Dallas dismounted and looked around for stables so he could give Swift a rub down and feed her grain, but only dwellings filled the surrounding area.
Three young, barefoot boys, wearing dusty pant and old shirts, rushed around the side of the three storey building. They slowed to a stop below the three wide steps leading to the front door.
Mage Stantworth dismounted and passed his reins to the closer of Cooper’s two men. “Stable her.”
One of the young boys stepped forward and took the reins of the mage’s mount from Cooper. He also took the reins of Cooper’s mount, and walked both horses around the side of the building.
“Got company!” Misty glared at the gathering crowd standing outside the single story buildings, staring across the square at Dallas and her.
Dallas ignored them.
Mage Stantworth walked up the steps and turned to Dallas. “Come. You, too, Misty. And bring the trackers.”
“I would rather settle Swift and Sweetie, first.” Dallas remounted. “Misty?”
“He wants Sweetie inside?” Misty stared at the wide front doorway.
Swift sent an image of her moving ichur out of the building through her body into the ground before settling into her new stall for the night. Then she expanded the size of the stall and added Sweetie beside her.
Dallas sighed. “Apparently.” He dismounted.
“Nonsense! Take them to the stable.” A full bearded, barrel-chested male walked out the open door. “Come, Mage, a meal first, then you can look at our small problem.”
Dallas noticed his hair had just been brushed and his hands were still wet from a quick wash, but his clothes were dusty. He obviously hurried through the building to greet the mage.
Cooper walked up the stairs and disappeared inside.
Dallas hoped whatever Swift had to fix would not take long. He led her towards the steps.
“Nebar, I brought two trackers, Swift and Sweetie.” Mage Stantworth pointed through a door on the left side of the corridor. “Nothing changed?”
“Meal first.” The bearded male, Nebar, slapped Mage Stantworth on the back, then pushed him inside. “Been there over two weeks, so a few hours will not make a difference.” He turned to study Swift and Sweetie. “Go. Feed your trackers.” Nebar followed Mage Stantworth into the building.
Dallas remounted, thankful that Nebar talked Mage Stantworth into a meal first. “Misty, follow me.” He rode Swift around the side of the building where the first boy led the mounts.
The remaining two boys jogged around Swift and Sweetie and led the way down the side of the building to the stables.
* * *
Dallas quickly hid his surprise at the variety of food delivered on large platters to the middle of the long table.
More than just the expected greasy sheep and goat meat that the surrounding land could sustain. Roasted duck and other large birds, along with a lizard carcass with its head and legs still attached and dressed with apple sauce, lined the centre of the long table. And some vegetables that only grew south in the marshlands. Even varieties of fruit, such as grapes that grew on the western slopes of Convane, but not in the parched lands of Hedgehill, and a yellow skinned fruit that was sweet and juicy.
He thought the men and women who carried the food to the table were slaves, because he was in Mireland, and Mireland accepted slaves just like Morecrag. He was surprised when the servers placed the food items on the table, and hurried to sit on the few empty seats either side of the long table.
Once the servers settled, Nebar nodded. Everyone scooped food off the platters onto plates set in front of each seat.
Dallas waited until everyone else filled their plates before he filled his own plate. Those he thought were slaves chatted and laughed with the ones seated beside them or across the table.
While chewing the greasy but tasty lamb chops he watched the servers. Some had to be related, because of the same facial features as Nebar, but others looked like descendents of Morecrag and Lealand. They were certainly not treated the way southern Marshlands slaves were treated.
He glanced at Misty, sitting on his right. She nodded at something the male seated on her right said. She looked relaxed, and ate every last crumb from her plate while she smiled and laughed at whatever her friend said.
He glanced down the long table at Mage Stantworth and Nebar, deep in conversation, then along the opposite side of the table.
Men and women laughed and talked between each bite of food. They took their time to discuss different subjects while they eat. He wondered if every evening meal was as relaxing or if they put on a display for the mage’s visit.
For a village on the border between Mireland and the wastelands, they did not lack for food. Or water. Not if they had spare water for the grass covered high walls that surrounded the village.
Dallas finished the last few vegetables, and sliced fruit, and pushed his plate closer to the middle of the table.
He noticed the temperature in the room had risen, both from the many candles that lit every corner of the large room, and the body heat from the diners. Dallas ignored the heat to concentrate on listening to Nebar and the mage’s conversation over the noise of the different conversations around the long table.
Mage Stantworth and Nebar, seated at the opposite end to where he sat, kept their voices low until Nebar raised his voice to answer something Mage Stantworth said.
“Of course I know about the attack at Idion’s property. I am worried about my sister. Not a word since she arrived at Idion’s. It was only a few days later I first heard the wall hum.” Nebar finished his meal and pushed his chair back so he had enough room to stretch out his legs. He sipped wine and glanced around the table.
Mage Stantworth said something, but again it was too low for Dallas to hear.
Nebar nodded. “Already sent ten men down to investigate.”
So Nebar knew about the attack at Idion’s property, and his sister was there when Carl, Valda and Joy escaped.
Dallas guessed Nebar’s sister was already dead.
But a humming wall? He puzzled over what that meant. It had to be a spell of some kind. He guessed that was why Mage Stantworth needed Swift and Sweetie. They had to remove the ichur and locate the mage who set the spell.
Dallas turned to the male seated on his left, second from the end of the table. “Humming wall?”
“Yes. You will hear it later. Mage Stantworth thinks your tracker can stop the noise.”
The long haired male at the end of the table laughed. “I hope so. Haven’t had a full night’s sleep since the humming started.” He turned to the female seated next to him. “Saw Brennet soaking up the heat from the setting sun! Enormous beast!” He laughed again.
“Yes.” She sipped her wine. “If he chooses to allow Stantworth on his back, then I guess we can trust Stantworth.”
The long haired male nodded agreement with the female’s statement.
A lull in the conversations around the table allowed Dallas to hear Mage Stantworth talk about some dragon too old to ride.
Nebar nodded agreement. “Needs some of our horse liniment!” He leant forward and looked at the male seated the other side of Stantworth. “See Brennet gets a large jar of liniment to give to Farsight.”
Dallas knew all the stories of how the massive dragon, Farsight, flew one of the old mages away from the battle with Lealand in a desperate bid to sow more dragonbane seeds, hopefully to grow and replace all the burnt trees scattered across Leyland and the eastern side of Convane.
The old dragon was still alive!
He missed the next few words, but then Mage Stantworth changed the subject. “After we fix your problem, Bren and I have to fly to Hinton Island on mage business. Our path will take us over Idion’s property. I will see what I can do about locating Veda.”
Dallas did not know who Veda was, but assumed she was the missing sister of Nebar.
After another sip of his wine, Nebar nodded. “I heard rumours of a new god down on Hinton. All nonsense, of course.”
Mage Stantworth smiled.
“True then?” Nebar poured more wine into his wine cup.
“I won’t know until I get there. But, most likely lies, because it would take a lot of ichur to create a spell to fool all the citizens on Hinton.” The mage sipped his own wine. “Our watchers have not reported any large amounts of ichur usage.”
Dallas turned to the male on his left. “How is it your grass is so green in this dry area?”
“No water is wasted here. We all take turns carrying out waste water to feed our grassy banks.
“And cooking water.” The lady opposite added.
“There must be more than one rain barrel at each dwelling to catch every last drop of the spring rains to sustain such a large village for the rest of the year.”
The female smiled.
The male on Dallas’ left laughed, but did not comment.
“Time enough to bathe while your tracker rests, before she gets rid of the hum.” The male on his left stood.
The others surrounding Dallas and Misty stood, while he wondered what they meant by bathing. In dry areas most folk used the word washing, not bathing.
The elderly female opposite Dallas smiled. “I look forward to removing the hands from whoever cast the humming wall spell.”
“Why do you cut the hands and eyes from the dead?”
She hobbled around the end of the table and walked beside Dallas as they followed the rest out of the room. “Don’t kill witches because they help everyone, human and animal. Only kill untrained mages because they are selfish and take without giving back. Mutilate the bodies in case they have enough magic to resurrect themselves.”
Dallas refrained from commenting on how ridiculous her statement was. Everyone knew mages could not resurrect the dead.
He followed the others out of the hall and further into the building down the corridor.
The empty room he entered, lit with four candles on a small round table, only contained one other doorway. They led him through the smaller door into a corridor that sloped downwards. Both sides of the corridor were lit with candles evenly spaced along the walls.
Further down the sloping corridor the floor changed from wood to smooth rock, and curved to the right.
“Watch your step here,” the elderly female warned. “Tripped here many times, so ordered more lights before I broke a bone.”
Misty stumbled and grabbed Dallas’ arm while she regained her balance. “Get slaves to level the rock.”
“Child, we do not keep slaves.” The elderly female frowned. “What a thing to say.”
“Sorry.” Misty rested her hand on the top of her long knife, still hanging in its scabbard from her belt.
“Forgiven.” The old woman smiled. “I put a stop to that practice many years ago, but expect Nebar with allow slaves again after I pass.” She laughed.
“Nebar?” Dallas had a suspicion he knew who she was. “Your son?
“Yes.”
They continued down the sloping passage, still curving to the right. It finally opened out into a large cave, deep under the building.
Candle light reflected off a lake of water. The water disappeared into the darkness at the back of the cave.
The old woman stopped in front of a deep pool in the rocks large enough to fit everyone who ate the meal above. Water continuously tricked into the pool from the lake, and disappeared over the left edge near the cave wall
He sensed the spell that forced the used water over the left edge of the rocks holding the water in the pool. Whoever cast the spell, was good, because there was no silvery glow on the rocks or in the water.
He finally understood why the citizens of Hedgehill cut out the eyes and removed the hands to stop dead mages from manipulating ichur. Because they believed that mages had to see ichur, and some minor mages did wave their hands around to help concentrate while working of a spell.
So they removed the eyes and hands to stop the suspected dead mage from working a spell.
Old wives tales!
Imagine the amount of ichur required! The councillors would know about it the minute the mage drew the energy out of the ground.
Of course it would not work. He doubted it would work if the mage was still alive, because strong mages only used their mind to manipulate ichur, not their hands.
Like Dallas was taught.
Like his mother and father did.
He did not have to see ichur to know his staff was full. He sensed it.
While he puzzled out their false beliefs, everyone had removed their clothes and bathed in the pool.
He located Misty sitting at the edge of the pool on some sort of ledge next to Nebar’s mother. Only their heads were out of the water. Misty leant close and whispered something in the old woman’s ear. They both laughed.
He looked for Misty’s clothes and located them on the rocks behind her, out of reach of any splashing.
It was the first time he had seen her weapons out of arm’s reach, other than when they crossed the border and the guards removed them from Misty while she slept. She must have decided everyone in Hedgehill were trustworthy enough for her to do that.
He was not so trusting. He removed his clothes and placed them in a neat pile on the rocks next to Misty’s clothes and slipped into the warm water. Then he located the submerged ledge and settled on Misty’s left.
Once the shock of the warm water disappeared, he ignored the humid air and turned his mind to what spell could allow the cold water in the pool to heat before draining it up over the far side of the pool, before it disappeared. A spell that only used a small amount of ichur, too small to be noticed by the councillors. He gave up on that spell and turned his thoughts back to manipulating ichur while the warm water eased his aching muscles.
He always saw the silvery glow of ichur, but felt certain he could gather the energy and store it in his staff with his eyes closed.
Later, when he was back home he could test his theory. Or he could ask Swift.