Word that the human’s great war had finally come to an end made its way to Salaya by trade ship. The news came the same morning that Telgra had her dream in the grove. This information, the monks explained to the elven delegation, came to the island in the form of sealed scrolls from the High King of men; it wasn’t gossip.
The slave master king of Dakahn had been bested, and the tale of the deed was so fantastic that it overshadowed Telgra’s dark vision. For days her insistent warnings were dismissed as foolish attempts to draw attention to herself. Other tales of wizards and kings battling the slaver, and of the dragon queen and her acid-spewing wyrm, were told and retold over her. She pleaded with her father to at least look into the matter, but the stories of how the great red dragon that used to guard the seal to the underworld had come to aid High King Mikahl and his wizard were more intriguing. The huge, winged worm had torn down the walls to King Ra’Gren’s castle and cleared a road for the High King’s armies to march in. Tens of thousands of slaves had been freed. The dwarves had come back to the surface from their underground cities to aid in the battle, too. Telgra’s premonitions weren’t taken seriously at all.
Her only ally in the matter was the monk who had found her after she’d dreamt. His name was Dostin. Dostin was what the other monks referred to as simpleminded. He was slow, and not always clear with the meanings of his words. He was clumsy and easily pleased or distracted. His pleas to the superiors of his order were taken even less seriously than Telgra’s.
Another ship arrived bearing news that the High King was marrying the Princess of Seaward, and that the dwarves had pledged to build a new palace in the new seat of the unified realm of men, a city called Oktin.
After enough badgering, Telgra’s father finally conferred with the monks about his daughter’s dream. They explained to the elves that dreams in the fairy grove are truly prophetic. Telgra hadn’t fallen asleep in the grove. She had been found by the simpleton lying at the edge of the tiny copse. They didn’t doubt that she dreamed what she said she did. The dreams of prophecy only visited those who slept in the heart of the grove, and even then the revealing visions only found their way into the sleep of but a small handful.
A full turn of the moon after the ordeal, Telgra was standing near the copse where she’d fallen asleep. She was enjoying the cool, salty air as it swept across her skin. The sun had just recently set and the sky was a brilliant sheet of pastel blue that exploded into a reddish copper band before it disappeared beyond the sea. Stories of the High King’s fantastic wedding had made it to the island, too. Telgra found herself envious of young Princess Rosa. The High King had been the one who’d ridden the flaming Pegasus in her dream. Unfounded tales of a hole in the earth similar to the one she saw were being told. Only this hole had been in some Westland castle’s bailey yard. Great winged demons had supposedly escaped the hells there. She tried not to think about the dark things. She envisioned herself in a fancy flowing dress of silk and lace standing before an elven hero. Only her hero had no face because a true elven hero hadn’t lived for ages. There was Vaegon Willowbrow, the elf who’d helped the High King and the fabled wizard Hyden Hawk. But Vaegon had been killed. His younger brother Dieter was cute, though, she mused. And the Willowbrow family were well-respected hunters.
Her pleasant thoughts were suddenly rocked away when the foul smell hit her full in the face again. She fought back a reflex to gag, and with a determination that only an elven woman can muster, she went to find her father. The smell, this time, wasn’t faint. It was thick and horrible. She was worried, but wanted to show the others that she hadn’t been just a silly girl wanting attention, too.
She found her father studying specimens at a well-lit table full of fiery tree deadfall. His yellow eyes, when they met hers, seemed distant, sad. He smiled and the look passed from his amber gaze until he saw her expression.
“Come, Father. This is important,” she said simply. She led him out the door of one of the monastery’s dimly lit halls. There they rounded up a pair of monks and a younger elf named Corva. His presence among the expedition was solely due to his swordsmanship and archery skills, not his curiosity over rare blooming trees. It didn’t matter to Telgra. She wanted him for a witness, nothing more. She led the group hastily up the stairway and walkways.
When they were at the flattened top of the island, standing at the rail near where she had fallen asleep, she faced them all in the southbound wind and stepped back with hands on hips. The young elven guard was already gagging. Her father’s face paled and he rankled his nose. The monks said they weren’t able to pick up any scent.
“That smell is not a product of my girlish dreaming, Father,” she declared, then strode over to the fairy trees at the edge of the path.
Dostin appeared, as did another pair of elves. They were helping the four-hundred-year-old Master Brevan up to the grove.
Seeing her, Dostin eased over to Telgra’s side with a warm smile on his round face.
“Hello, Dostin,” Telgra smiled up at him with a look of smug satisfaction.
“My lady,” he gave a nodding bow of respect. She had told him to dismiss with the formalities when they arrived, but since his brothers and her father were present she didn’t chide him for it.
The Giver pulled his magnificent sunset down into the ocean, leaving the sky dark and starlit. The moon was but a faint slip. Her father and the others were engaged in a heated argument and she wasn’t interested anymore. She reached across the walking rail and fondled one of the fiery tree flowers. She saw Dostin looking at her strangely.
“What?” she asked.
“I’m sorry for looking, m’lady,” he said. He seemed very nervous. She half expected him to say that he had fallen in love with her, but he surprised her.
“It’s your eyes.” He looked at his feet for a moment then back to her. “After all this time, I’m still not used to them. They look like a wildcat’s eyes, or an owl’s eyes.”
She smirked to hide her relief, then made a strange face, feigning offense.
“Your eyes are strange to me as well, Dostin.” She looked back at the fiery trees absently. “When I first saw humans in the town called Dalton, just after we left the Evermore, I thought how similar we were built. Then I saw the eyes of your people and realized I was wrong. Your eyes are like robin eggs, Dostin.” She focused more intently on the flower she was stroking and her voice trailed away. “Eggs with sapphires stuck in-” She stopped as she ducked the rail to investigate what had struck her speechless.
The young elven guard, Corva, suddenly pointed skyward and hissed a warning. No one could see anything above at first, then Dargeon gasped. Brevan mumbled a spell and made a flourishing wave of his hand.
“Whatever it is, it can’t see us now,” the old elf said when he was done.
“What is it?” Dostin asked Telgra. He was craning his neck so far back that he was about to fall over backward.
Telgra was no longer paying attention to the others. Something about the leaves held her captivated.
“I saw something eclipse the stars,” Corva said, pointing in the sky while looking to Dargeon for a command.
“A Choska, or maybe a large wyvern,” Dargeon said. He glanced at his daughter and his concern over the flying creature evaporated.
She was studying the flowers intensely. She didn’t even know creatures had flown over head. Dargeon saw the horrified look on her face. His keen eyes caught the starlit reflection in the tear that ran down her cheek. He hurried to her side, his heart full of fatherly concern.
“What is it, love?” he asked as he hopped lightly over the guardrail.
“Look,” she said, putting her chin in her chest and sobbing.
He was appalled. The fairy tree flowers were turning sickly and black before his eyes. He could almost hear the ancient trees crying out in pain. The atrocious smell in the air, or maybe whatever was causing it, was hurting them. He felt an awful pang of guilt as he stroked Telgra’s golden hair.
She had warned them, but they had been fools.
“As long as you shit your britches again, Oarly, we’ll be all right,” Phen said to his dwarven companion. They were in a rowboat fighting the waves just off the rocky shore of the Isle of Kahna. Phen's familiar, a lyna named Spike, lazed in the floorboards. Of the three of them, the porcupine-quill-covered, cat-like creature was the most comfortable at sea. Even so, Phen gently handed the animal up to Captain Biggs, who was standing in the cargo net hanging into the water from the side of the Royal Seawander.
Phen looked like a statue and he could see how his appearance unnerved the captain. How he’d come to appear to be made of marble was another intriguing tale. He didn't just appear to be made of stone, though. He would still be petrified solid if it weren't for the mighty dragon Claret. In truth, his skin was pretty hard. He weighed as much as three full water kegs. The quality of his personal predicament was exactly why he was doing what he was doing.
Oarly had fought Phen's decision to go after the Serpent’s Eye emerald from the beginning. Of course, he lost the battle. They, along with Hyden Hawk Skyler and Brady Culvert, had sworn a pact when they found the jewel last spring. Now it was fall, and Brady was dead, killed by a black wyrm, just before the Dragon Queen’s wizard took the silver skull. Sir Hyden Hawk had disappeared into the Nethers of Hell, but they knew he was alive. They had no idea how to go about finding him, though, or if he even wanted to be found. That left just he and Oarly who knew about the jewel. Phen chose to go after the emerald while his hardened skin would be an advantage. Soon he was going to embark on a journey deep into the Giant Mountains to find a magical pool that Claret had told him about. The pool’s warm spring water supposedly had the power to revive his pigment and return his body to its normal flesh-and-bone state. Oarly protested and pleaded, but due to his pact with the others, he couldn't tell anyone what Phen was planning. He was left with no choice but to come along. Phen knew this was the case. He was smart, a fair mage in his own right, and as confident as they come.
As Phen pulled on the oars, Oarly gave a backward glance at the Royal Seawander. The emerald they were after was in a cave called the Serpent’s Eye. It was only possibly to get inside when the tide was low. They’d chosen the moment just right, as it was almost all the way out as they rowed toward the opening.
A huge serpent lived inside. When they’d been to the cavern before, the thing had slithered out of its hole and scared Oarly so bad that he’d soiled himself. Strangely, the creature hadn’t killed them, or even attacked them at all. The joke was that the horrible smell of Oarly’s shit had scared the thing away. Phen knew that it had left for other reasons, but teasing Oarly was one of his favorite pastimes.
The emerald was guarded by far more than just the serpent, though. It sat atop a pile of gold coins, held aloft on a platter by three life-size skeletons molded from rusty iron. Around the whole monumental display was a shallow moat full of slithery eels with needle teeth that might be poisonous. Phen planned to stroll right through the moat, knowing that their fangs wouldn't be able to penetrate his skin. He also had an elven ring he found on his first visit to the cave. It would let him turn invisible after he snatched the jewel. That part of the plan might not even be necessary, Phen knew. Hyden believed that the iron skeletons might come to life and attack after the jewel was taken, but no one was sure if they would. Up until Phen had been turned into a statue by one of the Dragon Queen’s priests, he hadn't been able to imagine an iron rendering of a skeleton coming to life. But now he didn’t doubt the possibility at all. If they did animate, though, they would have a hard time attacking him. He planned on putting on his ring and being invisible even before he snatched the emerald.
Phen knew his squat little friend was concerned. He was concerned, too. Noticing the look on Oarly’s face, he stopped rowing.
"Stop worrying, Oarly," Phen said, trying to hide the nervousness he felt.
"I don't see it, lad." Oarly shook his head. "I don't see how you can sit in a little boat knowing that if you fell into the water you’d sink like a stone."
Phen cringed. He didn’t want to think about it. "Look Oarly, the tide’s starting to come back in, so the time for back-stepping has gone. Take a few pulls from that flask and concentrate on being ready to shit your britches."
The dwarf’s laugh turned into a low grumble that ended with him cursing under his breath. He did more than take a sip. He emptied the flask and tossed it into the sea. After a moment he pulled another flask from his boot, took a sip, and mumbled a prayer to Doon. “Let us get on with it then," he barked when he was done.
By the time the two were under the rocky ceiling of the entrance and easing into the Serpent’s Eye, the dwarf was belligerent. Phen hoped it was true, that dwarves function better drunk, because in moments they would really be past the point of no return. The tide was already rolling back in and closing the entrance behind them.
Phen opened his mouth and went through the motions of breathing, even though he wasn't sure if his body actually drew breath or not. He was thankful that he could see the bottom of the cavern pool through the clear water. He was concerned about Oarly now, though. The dwarf was emptying a third flask while patting around on his person in search of another. When he couldn’t find one, he looked over at Phen and shrugged.