M. Mathias: Through the Wildwood

A million surfaces caked with salt crystal reflected the wizard’s magical light in a spectacular manner. The whole cavern sparkled and twinkled. Every surface reflected, refracted, or glimmered. Vanx figured it was like being trapped inside a diamond.

“Here is where we part ways,” Quazar said as Trevin stepped out of a side tunnel brandishing a torch, the orange light of which was nearly negated by the sparkling spectacle around them.

“Vanx.” Trevin nodded his greeting with a grim smile. His torch was like a single candle trying to shine in the heart of a roaring bonfire.

“How is Gallarael?” Vanx asked.

“She’s dying, but conscious for the moment,” Trevin answered. “Quazar says he can maybe keep her alive until we return with the fire wyrm’s blood.” He paused. “Gal said thank you for helping get her through the Wildwood. She will tell the archbishop what you and Matty did.” He paused to choke back his grief. “You’ll come with me to fetch the stuff, won’t you, Vanx? I doubt we have enough time.”

Vanx forced a grin. “I will, but there will be more than just one dragon to deal with. I’ve heard from someone who has been there that the island is full of the dangerous bastards.”

“I have heard the same,” added Quazar.

“Let us hurry from here,” Darbon said, taking Matty’s hand and starting toward Trevin. “I want away from the dungeon. This dark place is not right.” He was clearly startled when Matty pulled her hand from his. She hadn’t moved to join them. “What is it?” Darbon turned to her in confusion.

“I’m not going, Darby,” she said plainly. Then she looked to Quazar. “You can keep me hidden for a time?”

“I can try,” Quazar nodded. “I will try.”

She gave the young smith’s apprentice a hug and kiss, then found the shadows behind Quazar to hide her tears. From the darkness she spoke again. “Vanx Malic, you keep him safe. The Goddess commands it.”

Quazar stepped to Vanx’s side and whispered. “He doesn’t know she’s with child,” in a voice so soft Vanx nearly missed it. Then in a normal tone, “Remember to take the dragon’s blood during Aur’s alignment with her stars. It is imperative that this be the case. Samples taken at any other time simply won’t be pure enough.”

The distant sound of boots slapping the wet stone floor and shouting men echoed to their ears.

“We must go,” said Trevin, pulling Darbon along by the sleeve. “Word of your escape from the dungeon has reached the city guard. They’ll be down here looking soon.”

“Goodbye, my Darbon,” Matty called. “Watch over him, Vanx Malic.”

After that, Vanx was scrambling up through a winding tunnel behind Darbon as Trevin led them to their destination. The whole way Matty’s talk of the Goddess, and her commands, and the way her goodbye had sounded so cryptic, filled his thoughts. Before he realized it, they emerged into another cavern. It was far less spectacular than the last one, but no less surprising. This cavern opened up onto the sea, and waiting for them in a fully manned longboat was Prince Russet and a crew of rowers.

“Hurry now,” the prince ordered. “We have to reach the Sea Hawk and be out of the bay by dawn.”

“The Sea Hawk ?” Vanx gave Trevin a questioning look.

“It’s the prince’s schooner.” He shrugged as if there were no way he could explain. “He’s taking us to Dragon’s Isle in it.”

“I usually show up in a place riding in the lap of luxury and leave in chains,” Vanx told the prince as he followed Darbon up the plank that had been set for them. “You’ll forgive me if I’m at a loss for words here.”

“Ha!” Russet Oakarm clapped Vanx on the back and booted the plank board away from the boat. “If you’d stop poking the wives of the lords in the lands you visit, you might leave those places as you came.”

Vanx chuckled but couldn’t say more because Darbon began questioning Trevin about what was going on, and what had transpired over the last few days.

While the seamen rowed them across the moonlit bay, Trevin answered as best as he could.

After reaching Dyntalla, Quazar had taken Gallarael into his tower. There he cast his staying spells on her, and some priests somewhat revived her. While that was going on, Trevin was introduced to Duke Ellmont, and then deposed by the Archbishop of Dyntalla and a flock of his scribes.

Trevin said that Duchess Gallarain had gotten word to Dyntalla through an Orphas. Trevin wasn’t sure if an Orphas was a person or something else. Either way, quite a few charges were being piled against Duke Martin. The duke still hadn’t figured out that he was an uncelled prisoner, now contained by the Dyntalla wall. Trevin had heard that some of the duke’s men were turning on him, and the prince added that his father might possibly be coming to Dyntalla to oversee the process of justice himself.

Matty and Vanx were still considered slaves, and would be until their tales came out and an unbiased ruling could be rendered. Just because the duke was cold-blooded and guilty of many a crime, it still didn’t change the status of those already judged.

“So whose slave am I?” Vanx asked.

“Lucky for you, I’m not married,” Prince Russet chuckled. “For that reason, you are considered to be in my service for the time being.”

“May I speak freely, Master ?” asked Vanx in a voice heavy with sarcasm.

“I said the kingdom considers you in my service, Vanx. As far as I am concerned, you’re the man who saved half of my crew at the edge of the Wildwood.”

“What about me?” Darbon asked.

“You’ll be a free man once you’ve been questioned by the archbishop.”

“If you live to be questioned is what he means,” Vanx joked. “We have a stop to make on the way to Dragon’s Isle. There’s someone on Zyth that will be able to help us. It’s not out of the way.”

“Don’t fall for it, Highness,” one of the rowers said with conviction in his voice. “If it’s true, if he’s half heathen, he will just turn into a bird, or disappear once we dock.”

Vanx laughed at the absurdity of the sailor’s superstition, but his mirth was cut short by Trevin.

“Watch your tongue, man,” the young guardsman snapped. “This man has gone far and above the call of duty to a kingdom that isn’t even his own. He could have walked away a dozen times over, but hasn’t.”

“’Tis true,” Prince Russet agreed. “You’ll hold your tongues or I’ll cut them out and let the half-breed heathen cook them for his supper.”

Vanx met Prince Russet’s eyes for a heartbeat. In the silence of the moment, only the sound of the outspoken oarsman’s gulping swallow could be heard. That caused the whole boatload of men to burst out laughing.

“I left Highlake on my way to Parydon to get my smith’s badge,” Darbon commented. “Now, here I am on my way to an island full of dragons.”

“Just think, Darby,” Vanx said as he sat down beside his friend, “just last week, you were but a boy and none of us thought we’d make it through the Wildwood.”

By midday Dyntalla was but a brown smear on the horizon; otherwise, the sky was a blank canvas of bright blue save for one puffy cloud, which lazed seemingly in place even though the breeze was warm and brisk. A flock of gulls squawked and frolicked in the schooner’s wake and the bright sun glittered off the sea. The Sea Hawk slid over the slow-rolling swells and down through the valley-like troughs with grace and agility. The water was a deep cobalt blue, and all morning long, both Trevin and Darbon had been vomiting over the side rail.