Dexter of Pozzelby

  “No. So you don’t know what happened to the king?”

  Myrick shook his head. “If he hasn’t shown up in the north hall, I don’t. He had Emily and Francis with him. They can be counted on to protect him and do the smart thing.”

  ****

  “I feel so stupid! How could we have lost Dexter?!” said Francis for maybe the twentieth time. Emily was starting to get annoyed.

  “Francis! Quit beating yourself up; there was nothing that we could have done—it happened too fast,” she said testily. “Now we have to find them before it is too late. I can sense my son. He is alive, but they are far from here.”

  “Can’t you teleport?” Francis asked.

  “No, if I could teleport I wouldn’t have had to fly from the Elon Forest. Can you teleport?”

  “No.”

  “At least you have light.”

  Francis had with him two torch potions, basically heatless, bottled torches. The one he was using at the moment, gave off a soft reddish light. He had chosen that one in the hope that it would be less likely to draw any unwanted attention.

  “Do you smell that?” Emily asked, wrinkling her nose in distaste.

  “I don’t smell anything, but my sense of smell has been rather dulled by decades in my lab.”

  “It smells like garbage, sweat, and musk,” she said. “Shh. Hide the light.”

  Francis hid the light under his robes. Emily crept forward. About one hundred feet further was a large door that was cracked slightly open. Inside she heard guttural voices arguing—she recognized the language. Quickly, she went back to where Francis was waiting.

  “Goblins,” she whispered. “I don’t know how many; we should go around.”

  “Umm, I don’t think that will be possible,” Francis said. He withdrew his red lamp, “Look.”

  About ten short, but broad, hairy creatures were coming toward them from the direction that Emily had just left. Worse, there were ten more behind Emily and Francis, all armed with knives, rusty swords, or short spears. They were surrounded.

  ****

  Doctor Ahem kept us moving at a good pace. When we faltered he prodded us on with pokes from my sword. I’m embarrassed to say that, Brin seemed to hold up better than I did. I promised myself that if we survived this, I would make more of an effort to exercise. As for Doctor Ahem, he looked like a scarecrow but he was driven by an apparently inexhaustible inner demon.

  I struggled to think of a viable escape plan. If he let go of the chain, we could run. But how far would we get? We were unarmed and Doctor Ahem, mad or not, was obviously an accomplished wizard. If we had a distraction then we might have a chance. I felt certain that was what Brin had in mind when she told him where to go. Even if we had to show him the library, at least Jonathan was there. It was possible that he could help them somehow. It was a hope. I couldn’t see the harm in showing the doctor the library at this point. Brin, Francis, and I had searched through it several times and had found no clue to the sword’s whereabouts. Considering our situation, I felt that it would probably be necessary to give us any chance of escape.

  All too soon we arrived at the lounge that contained the entrance to Nightshade’s library.

  “Here we are. I’ll have you know I spent quite a bit of time in this room. I knew it was important, but I never found anything. You’ll show me now,” Doctor Ahem told Brin.

  “Okay, you’ll have to unchain me first.”

  “Hmm, I don’t think so. Children your age need to be kept on a short leash. Just be a good girl now and show me what you found.”

  Nodding, Brin glanced at me once then walked over to the mirror.

  “Happy returns,” she said.

  The mirror swung open.

  Doctor Ahem stood at the bottom of the staircase, peering up as far as Brin’s gem allowed. He looked as excited as a child receiving a Yule gift. I am certain that if he had not been holding the chains in one hand and my sword in the other that he would have clapped his hands.

  “What’s up there?” he asked. “Is this where the sword lies?”

  “No. Brin said truthfully. “There is a library. It was the personal library of one of King Coenbrand’s companions. We found a book that tells where it is.”

  Ahem looked disappointed, his oversized hat tilted to one side.

  “Well, I suppose that that’s better than nothing. I hope it is something I can use, it would be quite...unhealthy for you, if this book proved worthless or, worse, you are trying to trick me. Children need to do all they can to maintain good health,” he said.

  Doctor Ahem started us up the stairs, following close behind. We reached the library. I looked but did not see Jonathan.

  “Where is the book?” Ahem demanded to know. As he looked around some more, he realized that this was a rare, special place. “Whose library is this?”

  “Queen Nightshade’s,” Brin answered, ignoring the first question in lieu of the second.

  “Nightshade!” he exclaimed. “The Archmage’s personal library—this is an exciting find! I will enjoy delving into all of the secrets these texts have to share. Now, hopefully your book will prove equally as exciting.”

  “It is. But, Doctor, I don’t think Queen Nightshade would much care for you using her library,” Brin said. “She’s an excellent judge of character; I’ve met her.”

  “Ahh Brin, I have always enjoyed your fanciful imagination. Most delightful, it will be a pity if I have to torture and kill you. Now, the book—where is it?”

  She led us toward the center of the library and pointed to a heavy-looking book on a high shelf.

  “That’s it. That’s the one we found.”

  Doctor Ahem momentarily looked perplexed. There was a ladder, not very high but high enough that he would not be able to climb it and hold us. He would have to let go of us or have one of us climb. Brin still had her crystal lighting our way, which would leave me if he chose that route. But he didn’t. Doctor Ahem spied a heavy, stout oak table nearby. He wrapped the end of both chains around one leg. He made a pass of his hand then touched the chain. A heavy lock materialized out of the air and fixed us both to the table.

  The doctor climbed the ladder and retrieved the dusty volume. It was big, thick, and looked like it weighed thirty pounds. Carefully, he came back down the ladder one rung at a time. The table shook as Ahem set the book down and a cloud of dust rose into the air.

  “Brin, your light—hold it here,” he told her.

  She did. Doctor Ahem opened the book with care for the yellowed pages.

  “This appears to be a gardening manual,” he announced after a moment. He stood and brandished my sword. “It is unfortunate that it has come to this.” His voice sounded genuinely regretful. “Since you have already wasted so much of my time, I’m going to have to impress you with my seriousness. Brin, I hope this will be the last time, you seek to stall me. I promised that I would remove one of his fingers, but that was over an hour ago. I think the price now for lying is a whole hand. King Dexter, I believe you are right handed.”

  He turned toward me, sword drawn.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Goblins were once prevalent in western Pozzelby, in the underground places of the mountains, hills, and deepest forests. Goblins on the average are shorter than men, not quite as intelligent, hairy, smelly things. There have been exceptions to the stereotype. Because of where they lived and their natural surliness, the goblin tribes inevitably clashed with the Blue Mountain Dwarves and Elves of the Elon Forest. If not for the goblin’s prolific breeding, they might have been wiped out entirely. As it was, they were pushed out of their traditional homes and forced to try and carve out niches wherever they could.

  Excerpted from J. R. Grimble’s, Pozzelby: A History

  Doctor Ahem came toward me with my sword extended and a chilling smile on his face. He reached for my hand. I jerked back just as Brin turned off the
light. Her gem went dark and we were plunged into blackness. There wasn’t a lot of room at the end of our chains, but Brin and I tried to move out of the way as best as we could. Doctor Ahem cursed and tried to grab me in the dark; I felt the breeze as his hand passed close by my face.

  “You are only making it worse for yourselves,” he said. “It’ll be your eyes as well as your hands. Illumio temus.”

  Light flared from the tip of my sword. Doctor Ahem’s eyes were tight with rage. He caught me by the throat and brought the now glowing tip of my sword up, just below my eye. And then Doctor Ahem’s expression turned from twisted anger to surprise. My sword fell from his hand and clattered onto the stone floor. Doctor Ahem released his grip around my neck and grabbed his chest. Much to my surprise, there was now a long, thin sword blade protruding out of the front of his chest. He made a soft, high-pitched gasping noise as he collapsed to one side, the blade sliding out. He struck the edge of the table, tried to hold on, but slowly lost his grip and fell to the floor.

  Doctor Ahem’s attacker was shorter than me and slight, hooded and dressed all in black. Long golden hair spilled out from the edges of the hood. The black clad attacker paid me no attention but kept the doctor covered with their sword as he fell. Suddenly, Jonathan was there as well, floating over my mysterious savior’s shoulder.

  “King Dexter, are you alright?” Jonathan asked.

  “Yes, I’m fine and very glad to see you and...”

  The dark figure wasn’t ready for introductions, still hovering over Doctor Ahem. Doctor Ahem was still alive, but his wound was obviously mortal. His heart was pierced and he would be dead in minutes. But he would not give us the satisfaction of watching him die. He twisted a ring on his left hand. There was a flash and then he was gone, leaving nothing behind but a pool of blood.

  I picked up my sword from the ground. When I did, the light that Doctor Ahem had conjured faded, but Brin brought out her crystal again.

  “Miss Brin, are you well? You are unhurt?” Jonathan said.

  “Yes, I’m not hurt.”

  I turned to the mysterious figure in black.

  “My name’s Dexter. Thank you for saving us. Might you tell us your name and how you came to be here?”

  “It is Jonathan’s fault that I am here,” said the figure, whose rich, somewhat high voice, was sweet like music. “He came and found me when you arrived upstairs and he realized that you were in trouble. It seems as though he is rather fond of you.”

  “Yes,” said Jonathan. “I did as you asked. When I sensed someone upstairs, I came to check. When I saw that man holding you and Brin captive, I went for help.”

  “Fortunately, I had just arrived and had not gotten too far from the library,” said the newcomer. He pulled back his hood to reveal beautiful elven features. “My name is Theof, I am pleased to meet you, Your Highness.”

  ****

  A score of goblins converged on Francis and Emily. Francis immediately drank down the contents of a red, clay bottle and gave a similar bottle to Emily.

  “Drink it. Infused essence of Steelroot and enchanted Ironwood. It will only last about forty-five minutes, but we should be proof to any weapon that this lot can produce.”

  “Alright. I’m going to try talking to them though,” Emily said after she had gulped down Francis’ potion.

  “You speak goblin?”

  “Some, it has been a while though.”

  Emily began making what to Francis’ ears sounded like low grunting combined with a dog’s barking. The goblins stopped advancing, though they did not lower their weapons. The biggest goblin came forward and answered her. There was an exchange that sounded to Francis like an argument, getting louder and angrier with every new barked syllable. The big goblin growled and gestured to one of the others, who were standing to the rear of Francis and Emily. A goblin stepped forward and jabbed Francis in the stomach with its spear. The old alchemist reflexively flinched, but his potion worked. The blade struck his stomach and had no more effect that if it had struck a steel plate.

  “Hey!” Francis yelled. “That tickles. What are you telling them?”

  “I told them that we are emissaries of the human king who is sick of goblins living in his castle. This one, I think his name is Brund, is not the chief, he’s just in charge of this foraging party. He said that he doesn’t care about a human king. I said that this was King Dexter’s castle and that he was trespassing and would likely be destroyed because of it. He laughed. I told him we were very powerful and demanded to be taken to his chief. He said he would kill us first then take us to the chief as supper. Then that one stabbed you. Now they are afraid because the spear did not pierce you. It sounds like this one is going to try and stab me in a second. Do you have anything that will make a loud flash and bang?”

  “You have to ask?”

  “Good, after he stabs me, I’ll act angry and you make your flash. Oops, here he comes.”

  The big goblin darted in and cut at Emily’s thigh with a notched, rusty battle axe. The force of the blow pushed her back some and the big goblin obviously felt the blow reverberate into his hands. He yelped and jumped back, then stood there shaking out his hands while he stared at Emily and Francis. Emily began insulting his lineage in Goblin-tongue and Francis simply harrumphed and glowered while removing something that looked like a party popper from the folds of his cloak. He twisted it and then threw it into the air. It exploded in a white flash of light and paper and was accompanied with a loud BANG! that shook the room. The goblins fell back several feet, some tripping over others in their haste to get out of the way.

  Emily drew up to full height and said something guttural and sharp to the deflated goblin. The goblin said something back, then turned and started walking away.

  “He’s taking us to the chief,” Emily said smiling.

  “Em, is that a good thing? My potion is only good for another twenty minutes or so. I don’t have any more with me.

  “But do you have more things that go bang, flash, or something else that’s impressive?” she asked.

  “Yes, but...”

  “Just get them ready to go at my say so.”

  “We could probably just escape while my potion is in effect. Why go deeper into the goblins territory?”

  “We’re badly outnumbered by Tabor Till and his allies. We’re going to try to recruit some assistance.”

  ****

  “Theof? King Theof?” I said. But of course it was him. He looked just like the portraits that I had seen despite the centuries that had elapsed since the paintings had been created. It is a myth that elves are immortal—they are not. But they are extremely long lived. Theof had to be five or six hundred years old and was not quite middle-aged. I had pictured him taller.

  Theof produced a thin pick and opened the locks around our chains in a matter of seconds. He helped Brin up and a short time later we were free of the bonds that Doctor Ahem had placed on us.

  “Thank you,” I said. I felt intimidated by King Theof in a way that I had not when I met Nightshade. Perhaps it was because I had never met an elf and was unsure of what to say.

  “You’re welcome,” he said, a slight grin playing at the corners of his mouth, as if he could tell what I was thinking and feeling.

  “How did you get down here in the first place, Sire?” I asked.

  “Just call me Theof. I gave up the title centuries ago. I never ruled much anyway. Calling me ‘king’ was more of an honorary thing,”

  “Alright, call me Dexter.”

  “Okay, Dexter. Nightshade found me, to answer your question. She told me that Coenbrand’s grandson was having trouble with Garegon and asked me to gather my men and come. So I came.”

  “What men?” asked Brin.

  “They’re not here yet,” Theof said. “But they should get here by tomorrow. Nightshade thought that it might be helpful for me to arrive a little sooner. She
teleported me to the library. It looks like she was right.”

  “Nightshade, is she here too then?” I asked, hopeful.

  “Not yet,” he said. “But she’ll be here; she won’t miss a chance to deal with Garegon’s cult again.”

  “Is there water in that skin?” asked Brin, pointing to a full skin worn under Theof’s cloak.

  “Yes, would you like some?”

  She nodded and I realized that the whole day must have passed us by and neither of us had eaten or drank anything since before dawn. In addition to water, Theof had some rations of cakes and dried venison. Not fancy, but delicious. We sat and ate and told him all that we knew. When I got to the part about the army of the Twelve Sect Order and its commander, Garris Stone, Theof’s expression became quite sober.

  “Garris Stone, here? It’s more serious than Nightshade led me to believe. I didn’t even realize that Garris Stone was still alive. After Garegon was banished, Garris Stone disappeared and has not been seen since.”

  “Are you sure that it’s the same man?” Brin asked. “He would be over three hundred years old.”

  “True, but I’m six hundred and two.”

  “But you’re an elf,” I pointed out.

  “Yes, but Nightshade and her husband, Jeremiah, are both human and they are alive. Garris Stone was Garegon’s preeminent champion. He was extraordinary. The only one who was able to stand against him in single combat was Coenbrand, who was Eridan’s greatest champion.”

  “So how do we fight him?” I asked.

  “The best that we can. It sounds like the key to this might be Harbinger.”

  “I agree, only we don’t know where it is,” I said.

  Theof grinned. “I do. Shall we go get it?”

  “Yes!” said Brin and I at the same time.

  ****

  Duke Grimwulf sat alone in the quarters provided by Tabor Till in the officers section of the barracks. He was finding himself uncomfortable with the events of the last twenty-four hours. All day long the battle had raged for control of the castle and all day his gut had been telling him that the situation was wrong.