Demonkin (31 page)

Theos unexpectedly frowned as he stared at the building. “If you use my gold to rent that building, how will you afford the ingredients?”

“I will pay no rent up front,” answered Kalmar. “Your gold is going for the ingredients. I will talk the tailor into accepting the rent from our proceeds. I learned how to leverage such buildings in Herinak.” Kalmar turned to the Vinaforan mage with a smile on his lips. “Take me to this tailor, Valera.”

* * * *

The hidden valley was a mixture of forest and open fields. Morro climbed a tall tree within the woods and settled on a sturdy branch. He peered through the branches at the wide expanse of open field as he held his crudely-made map on his lap. A lone door stood like a monument at the nearest edge of the field. The door was not connected to any building. It stood alone, anchored to two long posts set into the ground. About a hundred paces further away from the forest, and slightly off to one side, was a fire ring and a squad of soldiers. Morro stuck his finger into his pocket and woke up the fairy. Sparky stuck out his head and looked around without speaking. Morro pointed to the distant door.

“Can you get the number off of this one?” asked the elf.

“It should be no harder than the others,” chirped the fairy, “but we already know what the number will be.”

“If they are in order as we thought,” agreed Morro, “but let us be sure. The soldiers are far enough away not to see you, but don’t dally.”

“I shall be swifter than a rock falling through the air,” boasted the fairy.

Sparky shot up into the air and then dived for the ground at the edge of the forest. He soared a few inches above the grass and hovered near the bottom of the Door. He stared at the number etched into the Door for only a moment and then shot back towards the trees. He landed on the elf’s shoulder and reported.

“It is as we expected,” said Sparky, “Door number seven. That one goes to Gortha.”

“How do you know where they go?” asked Morro. “Is that written on them?”

“No,” answered the fairy. “I saw the map that Clint had. Each number had the name of a city next to it.”

“And you remembered the details of that map?” asked the elf.

“Fairies have very good memories,” Sparky replied. “Do we really have to find each of the Doors? We already know that Clint’s map is accurate, and we have found seven through twelve.”

“We must,” sighed Morro. “We have only seen a fourth of the Doors. While they match Clint’s map so far, we have to be sure.”

“That seems like a waste of time,” frowned the fairy.

“It’s not,” assured the elf. “For one thing, Clint’s map had no scale on it. These Doors have been set three leagues apart from one another. That information will be valuable. Clint’s map also didn’t have anything other than the Doors on it, yet we suspect that there are ten-thousand soldiers in this valley. We haven’t seen much other than a single squad guarding each Door. Where are the rest?”

“Probably on the other side of the valley,” shrugged the little man. “I bet they want to keep the men close to the tunnel.”

“You might be right,” conceded the elf, “but we need to know for sure. I want a complete map of this valley before I return to Tarashin.”

“I wish I could fly high in the sky,” replied the fairy. “I could see everything from up there, and we wouldn’t have to hide in the trees.”

“Do not even think about that,” warned Morro. “You would get caught. Let’s get on the way. We can chart one more Door before nightfall.”

Sparky slid into Morro’s pocket, and the elf climbed down to the ground. Keeping his ears tuned to the forest, Morro ran as quietly as any elf could. It was that stealth that saved his life. Morro was practiced in measuring distance by the time it took him to cover it, and he slowed after three leagues of running, expecting to come across Door number six. Instead, the elf stumbled upon something entirely unexpected. The first sound that alerted him was the sound of a distant bowstring snapping. Morro dove for the forest floor. He heard the arrow strike something nearby, and then another bowstring snapped. Morro crawled to find better cover. Once he gained the relative safety of a large tree, he woke up the fairy. Sparky crawled out of the pocket and looked around in confusion.

“Someone is shooting arrows at us,” Morro whispered. “I want you to go up just far enough to see who it is, and how many there are and then come right back. Do not venture away from me.”

Sparky nodded silently. The fairy shot upward beside the large tree providing cover. He heard an arrow strike something close by, but the sound was somewhere below him. Sparky resisted the urge to dart quickly. Instead, he hovered slowly with a gradual move to his right. As the field beyond the trees slowly came into focus, the fairy inhaled sharply. Hundreds of soldiers stood in the field nearby, and they all held bows. Worse, they were all staring in his direction. Sparky quickly slid leftward until he gained the safety of the large tree. More bow snaps split the air, and more arrows thudded into something below.

The fairy steeled his courage and moved to his left. The view of the field from that side of the tree was not much different than the other side, except for one thing. There was a line of archery targets set up along the edge of the forest. The tiny man breathed a sigh of relief. The soldiers were not hunting the elf. The fairy was so relieved that the nervousness that had held his body stiff finally relaxed. He gazed over the field trying to determine the number of soldiers in the field. He was so intent on his task, that he did not realize at first that the wind had changed. Suddenly, he was able to hear the distant voices of the soldiers carried on the wind. That was not the only thing that the wind change affected. The next arrow flew over the targets and sailed through the trees.

Sparky subconsciously moved closer to the safety of the large tree as he continued his counting. Several more arrows overflew the targets. Before the fairy was able to finish his counting. Several dozen soldiers started running towards the forest. Sparky dropped like a rock, his wings fluttering furiously to avoid a crash landing.

“There are hundreds of soldiers in the field,” the fairy reported rapidly. “They were shooting at targets, but now they are racing towards us. I might have been seen.”

“Into my pocket quickly,” commanded the elf as he reached into his pouch and grabbed the hourglass.

The fairy was almost in the pocket when Morro triggered the device. The elf eased the fairy all the way in and leaped to his feet. Racing at his top speed, the elf ran towards the field rather than northward through the trees. As he broke into the open, his eyes scanned the field. He turned northward and paralleled the edge of the forest. There was no Door in the field, and that puzzled the elf. By his calculations, there should have been one. Instead the field was will filled with soldiers. Archery targets lined the edge of the forest, and tents lined the eastern horizon. Smoke rose skyward from the vicinity of the tents, and Morro knew that he had stumbled into a major camp of the Federation army. He frowned at the implication of what that meant for an invasion of the valley. Whoever came to eliminate the Doors would have to kill half a dozen squads for the first six Doors, but the other six Doors on this side of the valley would never be reached quietly. There was no way to sneak a sizeable number of men past the camp.

Morro kept an eye on his hourglass as he raced across the field. He smiled inwardly as he saw the field ahead give way to forest. He dashed into the trees and halted to catch his breath. When the sands ran out, Sparky stuck his head out of the pocket.

“Where are we?” whispered the fairy.

“On the northern side of the field,” answered Morro. “I do not think the soldiers saw you. There was no alarm on their faces. I think they were merely retrieving their arrows.”

“That is what I thought,” lied the fairy. “Fairies are never seen when they don’t want to be.”

“So I have heard,” chuckled the elf.

“Why was there no Door?” the fairy asked, more to change the subject than any desire for the answer.

“That is a good question,” frowned Morro. “It is a good thing we did not return to Tarashin after the first six Doors. That field is an encampment. There will always be soldiers there, and that will make it hard for our army to reach whatever is north of here. Where do Doors one through six go to?”

“All over Alcea,” answered the fairy. “The Doors do not seem to be arranged in any logical manner. The next Door should go to Mya. That is a Targan city west of Tagaret. The one after that is Paso, a Cordonian city, and then Elmor, a Lanoirian city. The arrangement is kind of random.”

“I am sure it is something more than random,” replied Morro. “I wish I could get a map of this Alcea. Perhaps I could find out what the locations mean.”

“I can display a map of Alcea,” offered the fairy. “I have seen many of them. Prince Midge made us all memorize the provinces and cities so that we would not be confused when we were ordered to go somewhere.”

“Prince Midge sounds like a wise ruler,” smiled he elf. “I would like to see a map, but this is not the time or place for it. It will be dark soon. I need to find a place to sleep, and you need to keep watch for me. Are you awake enough to stay up all night?”

“Fairies do not require a lot of sleep,” boasted Sparky. “We store it up when we are not active.”

“I wish elves could do that,” Morro replied. “Let’s see if we can find a hollow log or some dense underbrush.”

Morro crouched in the bushes, staring out at the enemy encampment. Sparky stood on his shoulder. For as far as the elf could see, there were no more stretches of forest before him. Thousands of Federation soldiers milled around thousands of tents. Large corrals held thousands of horses, and someone was always moving about in the camp.

“Even the hourglass will not give me enough time to cross such a vast camp,” Morro said softly. “We will have to turn around and go back.”

“We have only located eighteen of the Doors,” reminded the fairy.

“I know,” sighed the elf, “but we dare not get caught. Even my gift of speed cannot cover such a long distance in the time allowed by the hourglass. It is impossible.”

“But this is the most important part of the valley,” objected Sparky. “If we are to invade this valley, we must know the layout of their forces.”

“The layout is simple,” responded the elf. “Most of the ten thousand soldiers are right here, and some of them will always be awake. We must be close to the tunnel entrance.”

“And where are the black-cloaks?” asked Sparky. “And how many of them are there?”

“I don’t know,” Morro sighed with frustration.

“We must know,” asserted the fairy. “It is our purpose for being in this valley.”

“Do you think that I do not know that?” scowled Morro. “You act as if I do not care about getting the information, but you know better than that. It is bad enough that I have failed. Why are you reminding me of that failure?”

“You have not failed until you quit trying,” retorted the fairy. “Are we a team? Or is this your failure alone?”

“We are a team,” the elf conceded, “but I will accept the responsibility of the failure. It is not your fault.”

“It will be my fault if I do not help you,” smiled the fairy.

“What do you mean?” Morro asked suspiciously. “Is this another of your pranks?”

“No pranks,” answered Sparky. “We can do this. There is no better team in the world to spy on this valley.”

“Then how are we going to do it?”

“I will use the hourglass,” grinned the fairy.

“What?” frowned Morro.

“I can fly much faster than you can run, even with your gift of speed. If I trigger the device, you will be frozen along with the others, but I will be able to fly over the encampment and memorize it.”

“Will that work?” Morro wondered out loud. “Or is it tuned to only me?”

“There is only one way to find out,” offered Sparky. “Put the hourglass into the pocket I live in. I will trigger it, and we will see how it works.”

Morro gazed out at the enemy encampment and then shrugged. “It will not hurt to try. It does not look as if anyone is coming this way.”

The elf took the hourglass from his pouch and placed it into the pocket where Sparky usually slept. The fairy immediately climbed into the pocket and triggered the device. Sparky climbed out of the pocket and stared at the elf. Morro was unmoving. The fairy grinned broadly and shot into the air. As he gazed out over the encampment, he saw people frozen in action. No one was moving. Darting southward, the fairy flew over the camp, his tiny head constantly swiveling to take in everything. He saw the tunnel entrance and the cabins of the black-cloaks. He saw the sparring arenas and the cavalry training fields. As he reached the forest south of the encampment, the fairy banked sharply and headed back northward. As he passed the tunnel entrance for the second time, the fairy noticed a wide ledge on the side of the mountain. He veered towards the mountain for a closer look. Coming to a halt, the fairy hovered about a pace over the ledge and gazed down at the encampment. He grinned broadly and darted northward. When he arrived back in the forest, he climbed into Morro’s pocket and looked at the hourglass. The last sands were just flowing out of the upper globe.

“Go ahead and try it,” urged Morro.

Sparky climbed out of the pocket and leaped to the elf’s shoulder.

“I already did,” reported the fairy. “It is something that you must see for yourself.”

“You did?” gasped Morro. “Are you teasing me?”

“I am not teasing,” answered Sparky. “It is a massive camp, and I have recorded the details. You are correct about the bulk of their army being near the tunnel entrance. The black-cloaks are also there, and they have cabins, not tents. I suspect that the mages have been here for quite a while.”

“That is excellent, partner,” smiled the elf. “Now all we have to do is circle around the camp somehow. That might take a great deal of time.”

“We should not move until the sands have been restored,” warned the fairy. “Have something to eat.”