When Hyden Hawk tried to mount the horse he had been provided, he fumbled, and fell into a collapsed heap. Vaegon waved off Drick’s attempt to help, and simply said, “He needs rest.”
The ranger nodded his understanding, ordered the two chagrined soldiers to stand guard, then took the reins of everyone’s mounts, and picketed them. When he was done, he sat back against a tree. He didn’t like the idea of his fallen companion just laying there, dead over a horse’s back, but what could he do? The elf, and his exhausted friend, had seemed about to fall over when they were burying the big wolf. Now, they could barely move, much less ride.
Drick could go ahead, and dig the hole for his fellow forester, but poor, dead Arnell had a wife, and a father, who might not want him buried out here in the forest, even though it would be any ranger’s obvious choice of places to be laid to rest. He didn’t like the idea of burying his friend so close to that foul, half-rotted headless corpse they had dragged into the woods. If he could talk to Arnell’s father, maybe they could find a nice, peaceful glade somewhere. Absently pondering the matter further, he noticed that one of the armored soldiers was staring at the elf, and wondered what he was thinking.
Drick had seen an elf before, but it had been from a great distance. The wild yellow of Vaegon’s good eye, kept stealing the soldier’s attention from the big white wolf that had crawled up beside Hyden.
It’s like one of those fargin old tales, he thought to himself. Demon beasts, wolf riding elves, and a Westlander with a magic sword. And right in the middle of a war no less. Ah the war!
No one in all of Highwander, least of all Drick, could understand why Valleya and Seaward were attacking them. Queen Willa probably knew the reasons, but not he.
A hawkling came swooping down through an opening in the trees, and landed beside the young mountain boy. It had been among them during the battle with the Choska demon, and had even managed to get a raking claw across one of the demon’s cherry eyes. Its presence only added to the strange, surreal mood that Drick was feeling. At this point, it wouldn’t have surprised him if a herd of tiny finger-tall deer came swarming out of the forest and started talking to the mushrooms.
These folk will fit right into Queen Willa’s strange court, mused Drick. What, with her dwarven castellan, her bearded dwarfess confidant, and her little blue fairy counselor, a one-eyed elf, and a man who looked to be now having an intelligent conversation with a Great Wolf and a bird, would complete the mummers troop that Queen Willa surrounded herself with. Drick decided that he would be glad to deliver these folks to the castle so that he could be off. He would go back to his mundane forest patrol, and never complain of boredom again.
Of his own accord, Talon had followed Mikahl, the woman, and the wolves. He had tried to force is hawkling vision into Hyden’s head, but Hyden was too dazed to make sense of it. The impact with the oak tree, and what had happened after, had taken its toll on him. Talon watched the woman, and Mikahl’s limp body, as they raced away, and followed them until he was confident that the lady intended no trickery, and that Mikahl’s body wouldn’t fall off of Huffa’s back. These visions had helped Hyden get through the burial of Grrr without breaking down.
Vaegon lay down alongside Hyden, and placed Ironspike between them. As if the wolf understood the elf’s concern, Urp curled up into a furry ball at their feet. Talon alighted on the sword’s hilt and began preening himself.
Vaegon wasn’t feeling very safe around the Highwander soldiers, so he wasn't taking any chances. It was men, just like these armored soldiers, that Hyden Hawk had seen loosing the arrow at him back at the Summer’s Day Festival. Vaegon wasn’t ready to trust them just yet.
As he drifted off to sleep, his thoughts and worries weren’t for himself though. It was Mikahl he was concerned about. Hopefully, the Xwardian healers were as good as the woman had said. They would have to be to save him.
When Hyden woke, it was nearly dark. It took him several long moments to figure out where he was, and what had happened to him. He had been dreaming, and the visions of his slumber clung to his waking mind like a bad smell.
He had dreamt of the dragon skull that lay in his village’s council chamber. In his vision, the White Goddess was calling out to him frantically from the dancing blue flames that filled the open brain cavity. Her voice had been thin, but insistent, and he was having a hard time shaking the image from his head. What was worse was that he couldn’t remember the span of time from when he was knocked into the oak tree, until they sent Mikahl off to Xwarda with that strange woman.
He sat up, and his movement caused Urp to do the same. The wolf’s white fur caught the moonlight that filtered through the trees, and was glowing the same magical blue that the flames from the dragon skull in his dreams had. Again, he heard the voice of his clan’s goddess calling out to him. This time, it sent chills up his spine. Absently, he rubbed Urp’s head, and decided that he needed to answer her call. King Aldar had spoken of the temple in Xwarda, called Whitten Loch. As soon as he saw to Mikahl’s condition, he would seek it out, and pray to her for guidance.
It was late the following evening when they arrived at the massive gates of Xwarda’s huge, white rock outer wall. All of them, even Drick, had been dazzled for the last hour or so by the way the setting sun reflected off of the western face of the mountains and the Witch Queen’s sparkling castle city. Hyden couldn’t imagine anything looking more glorious. He’d seen the city from above, but that sight hadn’t prepared him for this.
He counted seven great round towers rising up from the castle’s main structure. Several smaller towers rose up around the city as well. All of them were topped with shiny metal sheets which made them look like they had been dipped in molten gold, as they caught the rays of the sinking sun.
The wall itself was easily fifty feet tall, and half as thick. Drick told them that there was normally a great congregation of tent dwellers and hawkers, who lived just outside of the wall, but Queen Willa had ordered them inside the gates, so that the military might prepare the terrain for the Valleyan/Seaward attack. Only the trampled debris they had left behind remained, and most of that had been saturated with flammable oil.
Hyden and Vaegon marveled at the tunnel-like passage they had to go through to get into the city. Hyden asked about the slits and holes in the walls and ceiling of the entry tunnel, and Drick explained the horrific nature of them. Hot oil and burning pitch could be poured on trespassers, while archers loosed through the slits. It made Hyden shutter just thinking about it. When they finally emerged from the entry tunnel, both Hyden and Vaegon gasped at what they saw.
A great colored mosaic, of leaded stained glass spread high across the castle’s main building. It was still a good distance away, but the paneled depictions rose up over the city like a painting hung for the gods. The backlit scene was indecipherable from the distance they were at, but the ruby reds, sapphire blues, and emerald greens shone like a dragon’s hoard of jewels in a band across the castle’s front. The breathtaking majesty of it all, managed to overshadow the feelings of unease that the hundreds of Blacksword banners flitting in the breeze instilled in Hyden and Vaegon. The uncertainty and fear was still there under the surface. Neither of them could forget the amount of bloodshed that the Blacksword soldiers had started at Summer’s Day.
Inside the walls, a stench of refuse and foul body odors assaulted them, and the streets were packed with people, wagons, various farm animals and all their filth. It was crowded beyond imagining. Everywhere one looked, there were wagons piled with the belongings of the people that were huddled around them.
“People coming in from the western towns and farmsteads,” Drick explained. “They come for the protection of yon walls.”
He pointed back at them, and Hyden noticed, for the first time, that the top was crenellated. He also saw that the slots, that he had assumed were windows or vents, before Drick had explained them as arrow slits, were nowhere to be found on this side of the wall. The ranger’s distaste for the crowded city showed plainly on his face, as he nervously urged them on into the throng of chaos.
“It will be less cramped once we get past the next set of gates.”
They had no problem getting through the crowd. The people parted like a cornfield might if a bear went wandering through it. Many of them pointed and gasped at the sight of Vaegon’s elven features, but Urp’s raised hackles, and steady menacing growl was enough to cause the hungry, and disheveled folk, to give the group a wide berth.
A few groups of people cheered their passage, as if they were some great heroes coming to save them from the approaching Valleyan and Seaward hordes. More than once Vaegon, or Hyden, or both of them, had to talk Urp down from his fearful and excited state.
Hyden felt sorry for the brave wolf. Urp had limped the entire way, from the camp to the city, without slowing them, or making a sound of pain or protest. Sore and tired, there was no doubt he was intimidated by the masses, and all their strange scents. Vaegon had commented that the wolf had watched over them intently the whole time they had rested, and hadn’t slept much. Hyden reminded himself to make sure that ample food was provided for Urp, and that there was a quiet place for the animal to rest.
Drick had been correct. When they passed under a slightly smaller, older, yet no less formidable looking wall a short while later, the space beyond it was far less crowded than the outer city. There were plenty of people, and wagons spread around the cobbled streets, but it was obvious by the quality of the clothes that people wore, and the possessions piled into the carts, that these were a different class of refugees.
The sun was gone now, but its rays still touched the tips of the mountains, leaving them looking like some golden bronze crown over Queen Willa’s palace.
Hyden struggled to read aloud a street sign, advertising fresh baked goods, and the best cheese in the world. Vaegon prodded, and helped him through the words. Over the last few weeks, he had been learning, but hadn’t gotten far. Writing was even harder for him. He could spell out his elven friend’s name in the dirt, Talon’s, and Mikahl’s as well, but he had come to the conclusion that without parchment, ink, and quills, he would get nowhere, fast. He would surely be able to find those items, and a few books here. The idea of looking for a place to purchase them, in this mass of people and buildings, so crowded in together, was daunting. He was discouraged, and overwhelmed by it all, but he was still determined to learn as much as he could about everything that he could. Learning to read and write was the obvious first step.
The color of the sky reminded him of his dream from the night before. A glance at Urp’s soft white coat brought forth the image of the White Goddess, pleading for him to respond to her call.
“Do you know of a temple called Whitten Loch?” Hyden asked Drick, as they closed in on yet another gated wall.
“I know of Whitten Loch, yes,” Drick answered. “But to call it a temple, is to call a single dying tree a forest. It’s a swan shelter, and a small filthy one at that. It sits along the elevated rim of the lake’s retaining wall, at its westernmost end.”
“Whitten Loch means White Lake,” Vaegon said, matter-of-factly.
“I wouldn’t know what it means,” shrugged Drick. “But you’re about to see it for yourself.”
Unlike the other gates that they had come to, the one before them was closed. The wall, some twenty feet tall, covered in vines, and moldy growth, had a single row of arrow slits up high, and a wicked looking, spiked iron overhang, running along its top.
Before Hyden could study it further, a gruff voice spoke out to them.
“You’re expected,” the gatekeeper said, while eyeing Urp cautiously.
He let out a loud whistle, aiming his head up towards someone unseen on the wall. From deep within the stonework, came the sound of rattling chains. Slowly, the ironbound gates began to creep open, and beyond them, Hyden saw all the splendor of the world revealed before him.
In the foreground, was a fountain lake. Around it, stretching a way to either side, into the dusky night, was a well tended forested park. It was illuminated by lanterns, hanging from evenly spaced poles, along white marble tiled pathways, that wound through the trees, around manicured gardens, and perfectly trimmed shrubberies. Beds of multicolored flowers were scattered here and there among private benches and open plots of lush trimmed grass.
Beyond the lake, and reflecting dizzily on the surface of the rippling water, was the palace of Xwarda: a castle of white marble blocks that thrust up out of the earth and looked like a growth of crystal shards. The glittering stained glass panels were brilliantly backlit. The scenes that each of them depicted were clear, vivid, and at least forty feet tall. Hyden recognized a few of them, from stories he had heard Berda, and more recently Vaegon, and King Aldar tell.
There was the wizard, Dahg Mahn, surrounded by all of his animals on a battlefield, across from a horde of monsters. Another panel showed the forging of the Hammer of Doon and Mikahl’s sword. Two dwarves, with faces aglow with dragon’s fire, were hammering away at the creations. A wizard and a group of elves, hovered around behind them, while a long-haired giant watched over them all, with his huge muscled arms folded across his chest.
Another depiction showed a trio of dragons. One was a bluish-green color, another white as snow, and the third was a dark, ruby red. They were circling in flight around what Hyden thought was the Summer’s Day Spire. The center depiction was of a golden armored warrior fighting a horde of dark and familiar looking creatures. A hellcat, and what might have been one of the bat-like creatures that had killed Grrr, and a dozen other crimson-eyed things with fangs and claws faced down the hero.
“Pavreal,” Hyden mouthed in awe.
Another depiction showed a mountain split in two and legions of ax and hammer wielding dwarves racing out to meet a mass of greenish skinned, trolls.
The rest of the scenes, thirteen in all, were no less spectacular. Hyden figured that if one of the panels was laid on the ground, it would be twenty paces wide and just as tall. He figured that only the greatest magic could have created such a wonder.
Below the row of monumental masterpieces, were several under-lit peaked archways, which were divided by great spiraling columns. Under each archway was a set of curtained window walls, save for the center arch. Under it was a widening ornate marble stairway, and the castle’s grand entry doors.
Above the row of glittering stained glass portrayals were half a hundred, relatively normal sized windows, reaching up the smooth marble walls in symmetrical rows. Each window was shaped as a perfect miniature of the grand arches below.
Vaegon was speechless. Even with magic, it must have taken a thousand years to build this place. He was certain that only the long-lived elves could have accomplished such a feat. The way the lake reflected the stained glass, like a shimmering sheet of jewels, the way the towers rose up out of the reflected light into the darkness, only to be haloed by their liquid bronze rooftops; the way the white marble absorbed, and reflected the kaleidoscope of color, and glazed it across its own surface like a sheen of oil polish – those were details he would have thought to be beyond the creative ability of humans. Yet here it was before him.
Urp had taken off at a dead run towards the lake, and was now lapping at the water greedily. The swans Drick had spoken of, took to flight in a noisy, honking procession, and the emotional depth of their protest at the wolf brought Hyden out of his daze of awe. Then, the sound of the gates booming closed behind him drowned it all out.
He searched the shoreline, and saw the modest square building that Drick had called a swan shelter. The ranger was absolutely right with his assessment. It looked nothing like a temple. It looked more like a solid block of marble, which had been left over from the construction of the palace. If there were any doors, windows, or features whatsoever, they had to be on the side of it that faced the lake and the palace entryway, because all Hyden could see was smooth weathered stone.
Two of the swans Urp had unsettled, glided out of the gloom, and back into the torch light. They landed in the lake with a graceful splash, and then swam towards the structure. They came to a ramp-like rise, and waggled out of the water, seemingly up into the far side of the place. Hyden was just about to spur his mount over to investigate further, when the swiftly growing sound of hoof beats approaching on one of the tiled stone paths, filled the night.
An ornately garbed troop of suspicious looking soldiers, all sporting the Witch Queen’s Blacksword emblem, came riding up out of the darkness, and met them. A nod of understanding passed between Drick and the commander of the twelve man detachment, that set off alarms in the minds of both Hyden and Vaegon. The men behind the commander were darting their eyes this way and that nervously, which only served to raise the two companions’ level of suspicion. Hyden instinctually called out to Talon to help keep an eye on them.
“These men will escort you two the rest of the way,” Drick said, with a halfhearted smile. “Luck and leisure to you. I have to go tend to my fallen comrade now.”
Hyden looked at Vaegon. The elf’s sad expression showed no less concern that Hyden felt, but he indicated, with a nod of his head, that they should follow the soldiers anyway.
Hyden sought out Talon’s vision as they made their way through the maze of cobbled paths that led to the palace. He half expected to see groups of Blacksword soldiers waiting in ambush behind shrubs, and in the trees, but there were none. That in itself was alarming.
It was a mild, late summer night. The sky was clear, and the stars were starting to shine overhead. Hyden couldn’t see the moon yet, but the point of his observation was that there should be people out in this clean and beautiful expanse of greenery. As a matter of fact, the whole place should be filled with the refugees, who were crowded in their own filth on the outskirts of the city.
Suddenly, Talon’s sharp eyes saw something flashing through the trees at great speed towards them. Hyden left his thoughts, and focused in on the sight, and then it all made perfect sense to him.
Huffa and Oof were tearing through the forest, towards the lake, at breakneck speed. By the way their tails danced about in the air, Hyden could tell that there was no alarm, they were just excited to see Urp. No one was out in the park, because the wolves were loose in it. Hyden figured that the wolves had caused the nervous looks, and the uptight demeanor of the soldiers that were escorting them as well.
“Have they been fed?” Hyden asked one of the men, as Huffa came streaking by. A few of the horses balked at the sight, but the men riding them did a good job of keeping them under control.
“A leg of lamb for the two this morning,” the commander answered. “She ordered a hunt be made this afternoon, so there should be a doe or two about, any time now.”
“Could you put out another leg while they wait?” Hyden asked. “Urp, the wolf that came in with us, is injured, and exhausted. He needs rest and food badly. His master, King Aldar, of the realm of giants, would appreciate the kindness, I’m certain.”
The last bit, he said with an air of authority, doing his best to imitate Mikahl’s stately tone. The way the blood drained from the man’s face at the mention of the Giant King, told Hyden that the matter would be promptly handled. He would have asked about Mikahl then, but they had come up under the long entry that sheltered the grand stairway leading up into the intricately carved entrance to the Palace of Xwarda.
Men were waiting to take the horses. When they dismounted, both Vaegon and Hyden nearly fell to the ground in agony. The ache in their inner thighs and lower backs assaulted them as soon as they were on their feet. Neither had ridden a horse before the long ride from the camp. The saddles had looked more comfortable than a wolf’s back, but now, it was all the two them could do to stand upright without moaning or stumbling over.
Hyden’s will to make a good impression, and not show weakness to these people, who may or may not be an enemy, helped him master his pain. Vaegon cheated, and spelled his pain away. Under another circumstance, Hyden might’ve made a jest about the discomfort, but Mikahl’s dire situation hung heavily in the air, and smothered away any mirth that tried to manifest itself.
They were greeted at the top of the stairs by a dwarf. Neither of them had ever seen a dwarf before, and it was shocking. The man was apparently used to the reaction, and didn’t take offense to the slack jawed expressions he received. Hyden wasn’t sure, but he thought that the dwarf might not have ever seen an elf before either. Either that, or the patch over Vaegon’s ruined eye socket held a particular interest to him. A silence hung over them all as they took each other in.
To Hyden, the dwarf looked as if a normal size man had been smashed down to just over waist tall. His shoulders and waist were as wide and thick as any man’s, only compressed down, as if a Mammoth Shagmar had stepped on him. The dwarf’s hair was a nested mop-like explosion of graying tangles that seemed to erupt up out of his uniform, and spilled down over his shoulders. A huge, bulbous nose parted a set of heavy, white eyebrows, under which the sparkle of dark, yet merry, eyes could be seen. His beard flowed down over his ample belly, the tip of it nearly touching the floor, and only a trace of bottom lip could be seen under his mustache.
“Dugak’s the name,” he said, in a deep grumbling voice.
He bowed, and might have been smiling, but it was hard to tell through all that hair.
“She has been waiting for you in the dining hall. There are refreshments to be had there as well.”
He indicated for them to enter through the open doors. Hyden went first. Vaegon followed, and was glad that no one tried to take Ironspike from him, because he wouldn’t have let it go.
Hyden wondered who “she” was. At first, he had assumed it was going to be the woman they had met in the forest, but now as they walked, with loud echoing steps through the beautifully decorated corridors of the palace, he began to think that this “she” that was waiting for them might be Willa the Witch Queen herself.
The palace didn’t seem like the sort of place a witch would live in, mused Hyden. It was definitely fit for a Queen though. Tapestries, depicting sceneries of all sorts lined the walls of the wide passage they were in. Every so often, a small, but bright lantern was ensconced on the wall. They passed a few open doorways, which gave the impression that the darkened rooms beyond them were cavernous, and as majestic as the rest of the place.
At a crossing of hallways, four suits of armor stood at the corners. Hyden couldn’t tell if there were men standing perfectly still in the suits, or if they were just for decoration. He tried to peer into a face plate of one helmet, but couldn’t get a good enough look to tell. He found himself peeking back over his shoulders, to try and catch one of them moving.
Vaegon was contemplating the lighting in the corridor. It didn’t correlate with the widely spaced lanterns, or the limited amount of illumination that they were providing. He noticed that the high ceiling wasn’t marble, like the walls and floor were. It was bright to look at, and probably made of Wardstone, spelled to a soft and steady glow.
They eventually ended up entering a dim, formal looking dining area. The room was multi-leveled, and on the lower floor, three long identical tables sat empty. At the far end, on an elevated stage-like rise, was another table. This area was lit up with flickering torches on ornate stands, and the table was laden with platters of food and drink.
The woman, who had brought Mikahl back from the forest rose to greet them as they came in. She wasn’t wearing her armored girdle, or her riding boots anymore, and her hair was no longer in its single braid. Her golden locks flowed like a waterfall over her shoulders. And the pale, blue formal gown she wore fit her shapely body well.
Another dwarf, a servant or attendant, rose beside the lady. This dwarf might have been a female, it was hard to say. It had well groomed hair, long lashes, feminine brows, and even the pronounced bulge of breasts under its garments, but, the well groomed beard that flowed down to its waste was thick, full, and disorienting. Neither of the companions pondered the dwarf’s gender very long, because the look on the human woman’s face was so sad and grim that their concern was only for Mikahl.
Hyden was so suddenly consumed with grief, that he didn’t even hear Dugak introduce the woman.
“Welcome to the Wardstone Witch’s hall. Willa Undite, the Queen of Highwander has been expecting you.”