Shield of the Gods (Aigis Trilogy, Book 1) (27 page)

The thunk of a full canteen getting plopped onto a rocky surface startled Roxie back to consciousness. She was somewhere on her back. She tried to sit up. “Aerigo?”

“I’m right here,” he said. Aerigo was sitting next to her with the canyon wall behind his back.

“Where am I?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Aerigo said to her kindly and scooted closer.

Roxie closed her eyes. “I’m sorry I couldn’ g’on.” Her words came out a little slurred by sleepiness.

“You did just fine. C’mere.” Aerigo put his hands under her shoulders and slid her into his lap. She reclined against his warm, strong chest. He wrapped his arms around her and she snuggled up against him.

“Isn’t there a faster way to get where we’re going?” she asked, yawning.

“Where we happen to end up when traveling between worlds is kind of random. We don’t have much choice as to where we start, other than near where we want to go.”

“Couldn’t we just grow, then? We’d cover a lot more ground that way.”

“Due to Druconica’s gravity our size limit is less than half what it is in other places, and being in giant form is too tiring here. You’re here to get stronger anyway. Get some sleep.”

They were awakened early next morning by a flock of noisy birds squawking overhead. The birds looked like vultures, flying in loose formation, their tail feathers three times as long as their bodies. It looked like they had three ribbons trailing behind them. “What are those?” Roxie asked.

“Stringers,” Aerigo said with a yawn. “They’re scavengers. You’ve nothing to fear.”

“I wasn’t scared. They’re just noisy.” The last bright tail disappeared over the rim of the canyon.

They ate a modest breakfast of Scondish food and tea, which gave them a much-needed energy boost. The going was no easier than before for Roxie, and Aerigo still had to carry her pack. They stopped early in the afternoon to rest and have a snack, then journeyed well into the evening, until Roxie felt like she was about to collapse again.

In less than four days Aerigo and Roxie made it to the base of the mountain range. On day three, Roxie had been able to shoulder her own pack. On the start of the fourth day, Druconica finally felt like it had the same gravity as Earth. It was a good feeling when sitting up didn’t feel like a workout, and walking no longer a challenge.

Foothills and clumps of forest lay before them, and ahead a stiff climb.

“So how much further is it to…what’s the name of the place again?”

“Drio,” Aerigo replied. “It’s just the other side of these mountains.”

“Well, that isn’t so bad. We’re almost there.” Roxie reclined against a pine tree, eating their last bit of bread. It had gone a little stale, but neither of them could afford to let food go to waste. Aerigo refilled their canteens in a nearby stream they had been following most of the way to the mountains. When he returned, Roxie got up and shouldered her belongings, so glad the rudimentary movements came with ease. The Aigis plodded up the mountain with the stream flowing and bubbling alongside, occasionally curving away from their path. The uphill climb challenged Roxie, but she wended her way up without complaint, determined to make it to Drio.

As they gained altitude, the trees and squirrels grew sparser, and they saw groups of grey mountain goats picking their way along the lumpy terrain with ease. While they were unmistakably goats, their legs were thick and short, and their horns grew downwards instead of upwards. They also saw a lone mountain cat with a fat belly licking its chops before padding slowly out of sight. It had stocky legs, like the goats, and a tail twice as long as its body.

At high noon they reached the summit of the mountain adjoining Mount Azriel. They were coated in sweat and dirt, and for once Aerigo was laboring to breathe, too. He led Roxie to the shelter of a tall rock, where they caught their breath and took in the wondrous view from their post on the Fire Mountains, the largest range on Druconica, as Aerigo had told her a couple of days ago. Mount Azriel stood at her back as she faced south, gazing further along the range, which disappeared into the hazy horizon. The Black Canyon, the place they had come from, lay near the mountains like a bunch of burnt and flattened open sores. Its outer reaches got lost in the haze as well. Roxie felt thoroughly relieved to be out of there. It was disgustingly hot by day, and like Antartica by night, although Aerigo explained she wouldn’t easily succumb to heat exhaustion or hypothermia. She had a hard time believing him, even though she never woke up with frostbitten extremities. It was hard to forget what it was like to be human after seventeen years of pretty much being one.

To the south of the canyon she could see the Gulf of Lawrence, its near side covered with pine trees as far as the eye could see. All this and more was part of the Green Province. This part of Druconica was called the Green Province because of the giant forest laying to the east of the Fire Mountains. Roxie looked at this forest on the side of the mountains they had yet to travel. The forest seemed to go on forever in all directions. “I take it that’s the giant forest you mentioned the other day, am I right?” she asked, pointing at the canopy that reminded her of an overgrown jungle. She heard the scraping of boots behind her as Aerigo got up.

“That’s the Wildwood. We may meet the people that live there.”

“Who are they?”

“The Malkin. They keep to themselves, but they might invite us to visit if they find out I’m here.”

“Is that Drio?” Roxie pointed at a big town that clung to the steep mountainside as far away from the tree line as possible. She could see little dots that were moving figures, tiny fires burning, and a mass of wooded roofs. Farmland hugged the south side of the town like a combed checkerboard, and more dots were working the fields. Between the Wildwood and Drio a river ran, but no one was near its shaded banks.

“Yes. We’ll be meeting Antares and his people when we get there.”

“Actually, you’ll be meeting a couple of his men before you get there,” said a rough voice below them.

Roxie flinched, then regained her composure. Two short men, heavily muscled and olive skinned, were wending their way towards them among the sparse trees. Both wore leather jerkins over white, short-sleeved shirts, cargo pants with thick belts, and heavy boots. The men wore tough expressions, but had gentle eyes. The men stopped before them, and saluted. Aerigo returned the salute and the strangers relaxed their arms.

“Antares foresaw your arrival last night and sent us up the mountains to meet you,” one man said.

“You wouldn’t happen to have any water on you, would you?” the other asked. “Mick here forgot to bring some along.” He punched his friend in the shoulder.

“You forgot to remind me before we left.” Mick punched him back.

“Oh,
now
who’s shifting the blame?”

“You are,
Jack
!”

Roxie wasn’t sure whether to take their argument seriously or not. Though both men were smiling, they seemed awfully rough. She held out her canteen for the both of them. “Here. Have some.”

“Thank you, ma’am!” Mick said, snatching the canteen from Roxie’s grasp.

“Hey! I’m the one who asked for water!”

“Too slow!” Mick closed his eyes and tilted his head back.

Roxie couldn’t help but laugh.

Jack glowered at his companion. “Gimme that!” He snatched the canteen. “Don’t drink all of the poor lady’s water, you hog!”

“But Aerigo has more,” Mick said in an injured voice.

“It’s not yours to drink! Use your head.” He took a few bigs swigs himself before handing it back to Roxie. “I apologize for all this,” Jack said. “We were so excited when Antares told us that we were going to meet you, we forgot everything else. You haven’t been here in centuries!”

“Don’t worry about it,” Roxie said, and the men smiled back at her.

“Thanks!” said Mick. “Now let’s get off of this mountain before we miss dinner!” The two men escorted their guests down a well-beaten path at a brisk pace, and Roxie had a hard time keeping up. Fortunately, when she asked them to slow down, they were kind enough to comply.

During the downward trek Mick and Jack (seeing that Roxie was a newcomer to Druconica) regaled her with stories and information about themselves and their world. She managed to glean from their conversation that they didn’t consider themselves true dwarves, but as humans.
Short ones,
Roxie revised for them.

Druconican humans lived for about two hundred years, except for the Druids, who lived nearly three times as long, and that their population was slow to increase, partly because their history had been riven by war after war. The people from Drio and the Green Province had never gotten along well with those of the kingdom of Balvar to the north. There had been almost continuous battle over land and dominion. From these deadly encounters many heroes rose and fell, their deeds preserved in stories and songs.

“Lucky for us, Aerigo came about fifteen hundred years ago and got some momentum going to set things right,” Jack stated. “No one thought one being could accomplish something a whole nation couldn’t, but our armor and weapons have actually had time to rust.”

“And our literature and songs have prospered in the meantime,” Mick added. He glanced at Aerigo. “Antares finds your return convenient, but we’re not sure what he meant by that.”

“There
are
rumors,” Jack said darkly.

Roxie gave Aerigo a puzzled look and he returned one of concern. Had their god forewarned them like Din had Sconda?

Seeming to have already forgotten dark rumors, Mick and Jack continued to chatter as if they had all the breath in the world until they emerged from under the mountainside trees to be greeted by their first up-close look at Drio. They stopped so that Roxie and Aerigo could catch their breath, finishing off Aerigo’s canteen in the process, then set off diagonally to the left along the grass verges and into town.

The homes and buildings were made of stone, with thatched roofs, none of them over a story tall. Some homes had stone or wood fencing to mark their property or contain domesticated goats and cows. The community had a medieval feel, Roxie thought. Mick and Jack kept up a running commentary, pointing out the town bar, where to buy the best food and clothes, an ironsmith’s shop, the mill on the river and their old school.

“Oh, and uh, that over there on the other side of the river is the Wildwood,” Jack said, nodding towards the dense forest. “Never go in there. It’s a dangerous place.”

“The Malkin live there,” Mick whispered. “Don’t speak of them if you can help it. We don’t like them and they don’t like us. They try to trick you into thinking they’re harmless, then bang!
That’s
when they steal you away and no one ever sees you again.”

Jack recited:

Heed our warning,

heed our warning:

steer clear of the Wildwood

and never hunt until morning.

Roxie gave Aerigo a nervous look, who didn’t acknowledge her. Aerigo had mentioned meeting the Malkin, yet Mick and Jack were telling her not to. The two short men cackled at the short poem as all four of them climbed several short steps to a raised stone surface, where the Durians (as the people of Drio called themselves) had built a stone temple with thick walls, many pillars and a domed roof. The stone was worn smooth and every pillar had elaborate geometric designs etched into its surface.

The walls were covered with writing in various strange scripts, though Roxie recognized her own language there too. She wanted to tell everyone that, but restrained herself as they walked in through the front arch and into an open room. A silence had come over the cousins.

Small windows let in daylight along the length of the hall, and the walls were lined with books from top to bottom. Kerosene lamps clung to iron brackets between the windows, and five glass chandeliers hung from the domed roof, providing a dancing light and showering the stone with extra color. The floor was cut into even squares, with faces carved into alternating ones. These had a hand print next to each one, and writing below.

“Yes, not only our walls, but even our floors tell stories,” Mick said. “These are the faces of past Druids. Antares will be among them when he dies.”

“What happens when you run out of floor space?”

“We’ll build another temple,” he said with a shrug.

Several people were browsing the bookshelves. Only a few noticed the taller, lighter-skinned visitors, and tried to stare inconspicuously over the edge of open books or their company’s shoulder. At the end of the long room was a raised dais. Courtiers clustered about a wood-carved throne, and one man stood out from all the rest. He was taller than anyone else Roxie had seen in Drio, had keener eyes and a flatter nose, and a great white beard with a black stripe running down one side. The man wore layered robes and a heavy silver necklace with a gleaming amulet centered on his barrel chest.

Mick and Jack brought Roxie and Aerigo to the dais, bent to one knee and bowed their heads and put a fist over their hearts.

Antares pardoned himself from his conversation and strode to the edge of the dais, arms wide in welcome. “Mick. Jack. I’m glad to see you back in plenty of time for dinner! At ease.”