Arrow of the Mist

  She knew the bitter Saille leaves and honey fought a poison beyond their healing powers. She’d need to stop soon and get that fire going after all. A dry patch in the woods, she figured, where we can rest while I brew a stronger remedy.

  Her mouth grew dry, and she drained her water skin only to find herself thirsty for more. The forest began to blur and sway, as if submerged under water. Lia closed her eyes in the hopes of clearing her vision, but opened them to find the green of the forest turned silver.

  What’s happening to me?

  She licked her lips, dry as summer soil, and opened her mind to the grove. The trees grasped her thoughts and filled her head with a single word: River.

  Lia clenched her teeth against the pain and nudged Merrie forward to Nolan’s flank. “Wynn, we need to get to the riv—”

  “Lee!” Wynn cried out as Lia fell forward.

  He grabbed around her torso and pulled her off Merrie. His voice came in clips. “I’ll get—somewhere—fire—need to wash—” Then darkness swallowed all sound.

  She swam in an ocean of pitch, her body burning in agony. Nothing but hollow cries escaped her mouth. She fought against the darkness, struggling to escape its grasp, and then the sound of rushing waters whispered promises of comfort.

  She felt the cold, solid ground beneath her, though her head rested on something soft. Her eyes fluttered open to the gray sky. “I hear water.”

  “You’re awake!” Wynn’s face came into view. “Thank the fallow fields. You’ve been moaning and carrying on, and you’re burning up with fever. I’ve gotten us to dry ground, and I’m going to start a fire and get your kettle going.”

  The sound of rapids grew louder upon Lia’s ears, summoning her to them. “The river,” she whispered.

  “Yes, we’re on a riverbank, but the water’s, well, something’s wrong with it, Lee. It shines, like quicksilver.” Wynn drew up his hand and pushed back his blond shag. The wounds on his hand had turned black and oozed with pus.

  “Your hand.” Lia reached out to him, forcing her head and shoulders off the ground. She fell back, nearly fainting again from the pain that roared down her back.

  “Lee, stay still. Let me get the kettle going, and then you can tell me what herbs to put in. Don’t move. I’ll be right back with some firewood.” Wynn hurried into the woods.

  Lia turned her gaze toward the river. She gritted her teeth and slowly rolled her body over on all fours. Her flesh burned in agony, as if someone had poured boiling tar on it, and darkness threatened her mind once more. She willed herself to stay conscious and crawled on hands and knees to the river. The silver waters filled her with hope, and her body and soul yearned to partake of them. Her breath quickened. She dipped her hand into the cool liquid. Then she touched her fingers to her lips and tasted the droplets.

  “Lee, no! It could be poisonous, enchanted.” Wynn dropped the bundle of wood and darted to her side.

  She sat upright, her pain vanished, and she smiled. “Oh, it’s enchanted. See for yourself. I’ve never felt so good.”

  Lia nodded eagerly and he bent down and tasted for himself. His face beamed. “I feel like I could run for days.”

  Lia drank more from her cupped hands, allowing the water’s metallic taste to linger in her mouth before she swallowed it. Her senses heightened to the colors and smells of the forest surrounding her, and every muscle in her body sung with vitality. She grabbed the empty water skin hanging from her wrap belt and filled it with the silver waters. Then she retrieved her spares.

  Wynn followed her lead. “Maybe keep a few with regular water,” he remarked, refilling half his skins and leaving the others intact.

  Nolan limped to the shining river, sniffed it, and then drank his fill. Merrie followed suit. Like young foals, they started to prance about, Nolan giving no care to his bandaged leg. Lia and Wynn smiled at their horses’ sudden frolicking.

  “Wynn, your hand.” His rotting wounds had disappeared.

  “Check mine.” Lia threw off her cloak and turned her back toward Wynn. He carefully removed the protective cloth and wiped the honey away.

  “They’re gone. Every wound, like they were never there.”

  “It was after I drank,” she said. “All the pain disappeared.”

  “What is this river? Where does it come from?” Wynn wondered aloud.

  “I don’t know. I don’t recall anything written about it. Hey, let’s check Nolan.”

  The horse’s wounds had healed as well.

  “We could take this water home, Lee,” Wynn said with eyes bright. “Use it to heal your da and Granda, and all the others.”

  Lia bit her lip. “I’m sure the water would do wonders for the people, but if it’s really all that’s needed to cure the Straif’s poison, then why didn’t Ebrill, or the tree wyrm, or any of the Nion guardians say so? I’m afraid we’re dealing with something stronger than a bog goblin’s bane.”

  Wynn pursed his lips, as if mulling over Lia’s words. “Guess you’re right. I’d hate to take a chance on it not working.”

  With a shrug, he glanced back at the river. “The water’s too rough here. I say we get upstream, find a place to cross.”

  They rallied the horses and sped up the riverbank while the sun ran its course behind a gray sky. For hours, they trudged up the steepening terrain, but the river roared impassable beside them.

  Wynn drew Nolan closer to Lia. “We’re edging the mountains again. The river has to narrow soon—”

  “Look there!” Lia nudged Merrie into a gallop toward an immense oak, or Duir tree. It grew alone on the crest of a knoll and displayed a cluster of golden bough amid its crown.

  Wynn hurried after her and waited at the edge of the Duir’s canopy while Lia placed her hand on its rough bark. Oak lore ran heavily through the Grimoire, the tree honored for its protection and strength. Thoughts of Da and Granda, of Uncle Finn, and even Doc Lloyd filled her mind. Like fathers of the woodlands, oak trees endured the trials of time.

  “See that cluster up there, Wynn? It’s another ingredient for the elixir,” Lia said. “Fetch me a long rope, my bow, and a bolt.”

  Wynn did as she asked without question. Lia tied the rope to one of her crossbow bolts, placed it in the groove on the stock, and shot it into the middle of the golden bough. With a quick yank, the clinging fungus tumbled down, its olive green leaves and white berries a welcome sight. Lia scooped up her prize and handed it to Wynn.

  “Pack some up while I give thanks,” she said, and placed her hands back on the trunk. She imparted her gratitude, and then as she started to pull away, a strange energy pricked at her mind.She used her thoughts to penetrate deeper, reaching down through the sturdy trunk, down into the roots. An aroma of rich musk filled her senses. Like a heart, the tree’s energy beat in rhythm. But another beat resounded, its drum smaller, low, and deep.

  A flash of light and a loud crack tore through Lia’s mind, and before she could blink, Wynn tackled her to the ground.

  He coughed as he lifted himself off her. Lia sputtered, “Wha … what happened?”

  “Lightning. It struck the top branch. I thought you’d be burned for sure.” Wynn struggled to catch his breath while several rain droplets fell on his face.

  Lia stood up and noticed a thin stream of smoke rising from the top of the Duir. Otherwise, the tree appeared unharmed.

  “Before the lightning hit,” she said, “I heard something inside the tree that wasn’t a part of it—”

  A loud rustling came from behind the Duir. Wynn gripped his sword and took a fighting stance. An ancient face poked out from around the tree. Lia’s heart skipped. The creature displayed a long white beard and eyes of aquamarine. He gaped at them, and then stepped from behind the tree to reveal his short, stocky build and iron axe.

  Lia found her voice and uttered, “Dwarf.”

  “Even with that grand hollow, sure is hard to get a nap in with that blasted lightning. Good thing this old Duir’s got tough skin,” the d
warf grunted, patting the tree. “Name’s Gobann. Heard you were wandering these parts. Thought I’d stick around and get a look-see.”

  “You’re a dwarf.” Lia knew she stated the obvious and had never doubted the legends, but she still marveled at meeting one from the ancient race.

  “Aye, last time I checked, but you never know what can happen in a place like this. About eighty years ago, my scouting partner got himself turned into coal. Tangled up with some crazy imp he did, but that’s a whole other story. A’course we fired him into a real nice diamond, but ’tis not quite the same now is it?”

  Wynn shot a glance at Lia. He held his sword awkwardly and shifted his feet back and forth, as if unsure whether Gobann was a friend or foe.

  “Gobann,” Lia said, “are there many others?”

  “A’course. Got a whole passel o’clans deep in the mountains. ’Tis only a few of us scouts ever come into the valley though, to keep on eye on things.” Gobann leaned on his axe and stroked his snowy beard. His eyes sparkled like polished gems, revealing wisdom far deeper than his polite bantering let on.

  “If you’re trying to cross the Seren River, you’ll have to go through the Coll grove. Only about a half day’s journey up these hills, if you’re interested o’course.” A smile tugged at his lips.

  “You know where we’re headed. Then you must know about the Straif.” Hope filled Lia. “Do you know how we might defeat it? Oh, we’ve just come from the Nion tree and the woman said something about using Brume’s blood, but I don’t understand what she meant, and there’s parts to the elixir I’ve been trying to figure out—”

  “Mine ears, you’re all in a whirl. ’Fraid I’m just a scout, don’t know much about ’lixers or spells, unless you’d be wanting a stone charmed. That’s what dwarfs do best, you know.”

  “Of course! The dwarfs had cared for Rockberg’s quartz towers.” Lia pulled at the leather thong and brought out her pouch. She quickly opened it and dumped the stone onto her palm. “You can help me with this.”

  “By thunder’s hammer!” Gobann fell to his knees. “A piece, cast from an ancient one. How’s it so?”

  Lia shook her head. “I don’t know how it broke free. I thought maybe because the stones had gotten so old.”

  “May I hold it?” Gobann lifted his eyes to hers.

  “Lee, wait.” Wynn stepped in front of her. “What kinda rock is this anyway?”

  “Please, brave warrior, my people spent thousands o’years caring for these rocks, as you kindly put it. On my honor I’ll not harm it, nor steal it away.”

  “It’s all right, Wynn,” Lia said, maneuvering around him. “It’s just like in the legends. I believe he speaks true.”

  She handed the quartz to the kneeling dwarf. He held it as if it were a fragile egg, caressing it ever so softly. All at once, the stone lit up. Lia’s jaw dropped. The light radiated outward, enveloping the dwarf’s hand. Heat pulsated from it, and the white glow turned to beams of colors.

  Lia’s awe was intensified by the Duir tree’s response. Its essence drummed within her like a strong pulse. She was sure the tree leaned closer to the crystal’s light.

  The dwarf placed the stone back onto Lia’s palm and its light subsided. “That’s as much as I can do, ’tis your stone after all. Crystals use receptive magic, you know. Like mirrors, reflecting out what you put in. I could tell this one dwelt in an herber garden, humming with all sorts o’fae.”

  “Fae? But, it came from my home, back in Rockberg.” Lia dropped her stone back in its pouch.

  “The fae are the few that remain hidden in your world, though they only stick around in the best o’gardens.” The dwarf winked at her and stroked his beard. “That quartz’ll wield a lot more magic with the right skill, if you’re interested o’course. Could also help us dwarfs answer a few questions.”

  “What are you proposing?” Wynn asked with a tight jaw.

  Gobann’s face wrinkled into a smile. “I’m sure our smiths’d forge you the finest o’blades if you decide to come back with me.”

  Wynn’s eyes grew wide. “Back with you? We’re racing against time as it is, a trek through those mountains would take—”

  “’Bout as long as it takes to fry up some trout, and that’d be sounding real good now. Mica, my wife, soaks them in a milk bath first and then—”

  “Magic!” Lia’s pulse raced.

  “Her cooking? Mica’d be pleased to hear that.” Gobann grinned playfully before he turned serious. “Aye, lass, ’tis magic that’ll get us there, or something like it. Have to leave your beasts here though; they won’t likely fit. But not to worry, we’ll be back in a wink, and they’ll have company.”

  Fit? Lia wondered if she’d heard him right.

  The dwarf whistled through two thick fingers, and within minutes, a pure white mare charged up the hill. Merrie and Nolan scampered like two foals to greet her. Lia figured their drinks at the river still had them extra lively. The mare nosed their horses before halting at the dwarf’s side.

  “This here’s Gypsum. She’s a right friend, and she’ll keep a good watch on both o’yours. Saved her several years back when she was stuck in the mire. Would have died if I hadn’t pulled her from that sludge. Now, she’s always ’round when I need her.” Gobann turned and whispered into Gypsum’s ear, her lobe twitching. Nolan nudged against the mare’s flank with nostrils aflare.

  Lia stared at Gypsum. The horse’s beauty stirred something deep within her. She exuded grace and purity, as if she was as unsullied as her pristine white coat.

  “Follow me.” The dwarf waved for them to follow as he turned back toward the tree.

  Wynn stood his ground and Lia nudged him. “Wynn, we have to go with him. The legends tell of their stone mage skills. They can show me how to wield the quartz—”

  “I don’t care what the legends say, Lee.” He gripped her shoulders, his eyes shining with unease. “Think about it. Who drove them from their homes all those years ago? It was our kind, and now here we are, coming into their homeland again. I say we take our leave, get across the river to the eastern wood, and finish this journey on our own.”

  “What if we can’t do this on our own?” Heat rose into Lia’s neck. “What if their magic could give us a way to defend ourselves, maybe even put an end to the Straif?”

  Her words put an extra furrow in Wynn’s brow, and before he could argue she added, “You said it yourself: farming and sword fighting haven’t done you much good here. To have any chance at all, we need to gain other skills, other weapons. Weapons of magic.”

  Wynn blew out his breath and shook his head. “Fine. We’ll do it your way.”

  He moved aside, sheathed his blade, and followed Lia to where Gobann stood before a hollow on the back of the Duir tree.

  Gobann appeared to stretch taller and pride sparkled from his eyes. “Only two o’these passages in all the land and this’n’ belongs to the dwarfs.”

  Lia peered into the hollow, and understanding struck her like a bolt of lightning. “A portal.”

  “You could call it that. But Duir’s Run is what we call it.”

  “Wait a minute,” Wynn said. “We’re going inside the tree?”

  “Aye, lad, ’tis a fine passage. You’ll see.”

  “You mentioned two. Where’s the other Duir’s Run?” Lia asked.

  “Ah, you’ll not be wanting to venture into the likes o’that one. ’Tis no Duir neither, but an ancient Idho, timekeeper, bridge to the Otherworld. Get lost in a tree like that. Never knew no one who went in to come back out.” Gobann stepped into the hollow. “No tricks with the Duir here; ’tis loyal and true. Might have to duck a bit though, you both being so tall.”

  Hmm. The other portal is a yew tree. How strange that her special tree, the place she nestled in for hours back in the Bryns, was also an Idho. She and Koun spent many hours snoozing in the cozy hollow, ever since she first found her pup sleeping there.

  She took a deep breath and turned to Wynn. “Read
y?”

  Despite his wariness, he replied, “Lead the way.”

  Lia followed the dwarf’s steps into the Duir, ducking her head slightly and adjusting her knapsack. Wynn nearly doubled over to fit under the ceiling and his muffled swears echoed through the passage.

  In the dim light, Lia drew in the pungent scent of the tree, a mix of earth and fire. She followed Gobann into a tunnel, dragging her hand across the coarse walls. The Duir answered her touch with a sensation of power. It was not the kind of power to lord over others, but rather a strength igniting her resolve. She relaxed in its peace, confident that answers lie ahead.

  “Spades, it’s shrinking,” Wynn yelped in the narrowing tunnel.

  “Almost there, young warrior,” Gobann called back, leading them deeper into the passage.

  The tree’s inner ridges gave way to a cold, rock-like surface against Lia’s hands. A rhythmic knocking echoed from a distance. “What’s that noise?”

  “That’d be the miners’ hammers ’n’picks. Our caves are full of minerals: agate, carnelian, fluorite, and a dark green beryl you’d know as emerald, just to name a few.”

  The hammering grew louder as the tunnel walls opened into a stone grotto. Torches glimmered around the cave, revealing a rounded chamber with a wooden table and chairs in the center. Lia’s palm grew wet against rivulets of water running down the smooth stone. The air grew chilly and she pulled her cloak tighter.

  Wynn unfolded himself from the tunnel and stood upright in the room, glowering.

  “I’ll be needing to announce you. Stay put for a bit.” Gobann disappeared through a stout wooden door on the far wall.

  “Well, I hope you’re right,” Wynn said. “We’re nothing but fish in a barrel now.”

  “Gobann wants to help us,” Lia countered.

  Wynn paced the floor, shaking his head. “The more I think about it, the more I believe the dwarfs know all about that Straif tree and are glad it’s attacking us. It’s the perfect revenge. Maybe they sent Gobann as a diversion, to stop us from defeating it.”

  His worries jabbed at Lia’s resolve. Certainly, Wynn had reason to be anxious. They’d encountered their share of obstacles in Brume already, and time was ticking away. But the Grimoire didn’t speak ill of dwarfs. The only passages told of ancient times when they lived in the lands before humans. And honesty had shone from Gobann’s eyes. She was sure of it.