The Ventifact Colossus (The Heroes of Spira Book 1) (8 page)

CHAPTER FOUR

THE FIRST THING Ernie Roundhill did the next morning was sit at his desk and write a letter because he really ought to.

Dear Mom and Dad,

I’m writing you from my new house in Tal Hae. I never even got to the city on foot since Abernathy, the wizard, did some magic to pop us right inside his tower. Aravia had a word for it, but I can’t remember it right now. Oh, and it’s “us,” since there’s eight of us, not just me. Abernathy wanted a whole team to help him. The others all seem very nice, though one of them is part goblin and involved in a mysterious gem-trading business. His name’s Dranko, and he’s also a Delioch channeler.

There’s also a young man like myself, Tor, he’s a swordsman, there’s a tough older gentleman who calls himself Grey Wolf who I think was a bodyguard. The others are Aravia, she’s a wizard, though not near as powerful as Abernathy, another woman named Morningstar who’s Ellish, and a stone-worker with a funny accent named Kibi. Oh, and Mrs. Horn, who’s kind of like the grandmum of the group. I think she must be older than Mrs. Appleford. They’re all such nice, interesting people, but also I think more complicated than the folks in White Ferry. It’s hard to explain.

Abernathy has given us a house to live in, and we even have our own butler named Eddings. It feels weird to have someone serving me. Our house is called the Greenhouse, and it’s on the Street of Bakers here in Tal Hae. Isn’t that great? Our house even used to be a bakery, and I’ve already become the house cook, even though we also have a magic box that makes food.

Abernathy said we have to help keep the kingdom safe, and that it may take a long time. But I bet I can convince him to let me come back and visit. I’ll keep writing to you to let you know how everything is going.

Love, your son,

Ernest Carabend

Ernie folded up his letter and stared at it thoughtfully. He didn’t want to worry his mother unduly, and he had gone back and forth in his mind about whether to include any references to Abernathy’s world-threatening monster. His parents had hammered the importance of honesty into him like a blacksmith pounds a blade, but he could stomach small lies of omission to spare his dear mother distress.

Now he faced another difficulty: how did one send a letter to a small village a hundred miles away? He found Eddings downstairs, scrubbing the kitchen floor.

“Eddings, could you arrange to have this letter sent to my parents? They’re in the town of White Ferry, at the Roundhill Bakery.”

“Of course, Master Roundhill.”

“Oh, good. Thanks, Eddings.”

“It is my pleasure, sir.”

Having a butler sure was handy. He didn’t deserve a butler, of course. If anything,
he
should be the servant.

He started to ask Eddings if there was anything
he
needed, but was interrupted by a truly horrific noise, like a songbird being tortured. After ten seconds it hadn’t stopped. Aravia and Grey Wolf were already in the dining room, and they looked every bit as alarmed as Ernie felt. Only Eddings remained undisturbed.

“That is Abernathy summoning you to the globe room.” The butler gestured toward the stairs. “Announce your arrival and the summoning noise should cease.”

On the second floor the others had staggered into the hall. Dranko, his face haggard, had his hands clapped to his ears and was moaning, “Make it stop, make it stop!”

Grey Wolf flipped the painting, flicked the tower, and shouted over the din, “We’re here! What is it?”

The ear-splitting warble cut off, thank the Gods. They crowded into the small room while the mist inside the globe coalesced into Abernathy’s wrinkled face. There was sweat beaded on the wizard’s spotted cheeks and his hair was mussed.

“I’m sending you off on your first assignment.”

A thrill of excitement and fear flowed through Ernie. Mostly fear, he’d have admitted if anyone had asked.

“Did your monster get out?” he asked. He felt his face flush with embarrassment for having wondered that out loud. Could he sound more pathetic?

“No, no,” said Abernathy. “But the aspect of our enemy’s assault on the door has…shifted recently, and we need all the information we can get. I’ve already told you the nature of this task, yes? To inspect the door behind which my monster, as you say, is trapped. You will find it unusual, but what I need to know should be simple enough for you to learn.”

“Where is it?” asked Aravia. “And will you have time to send over some of your spellbooks before we go? You promised me, remember? It’s why I agreed to join your endeavor. Also, my cat is still at Master Serpicore’s house. Can you arrange to have my Pewter brought here?”

Abernathy sighed. “The door is near the town of Verdshane,” he said. And as for your…”

A deep chime sounded from within the glass ball, and Abernathy flinched at the noise. When he spoke again, his words came rapidly. “Very quickly now, go to Verdshane, cross-country will be fastest, leave within the hour if you can, there are some ruins north of the town, and one building looks like there’s no way into it, close your eyes and walk through the door with the bear head, inside there’s a magical blue field—don’t touch it—but in that field is a person, floating, and I want you to measure, as precisely as you can from as close as you can get, the distance between that person’s left heel and the floor beneath him, after that, return at once and tell me that distance.” He finally took a shallow breath. “Don’t talk to anyone about anything you see near Verdshane. Good luck!”

The chime rang again, more loudly this time, and Ernie remembered the sound from their first night in Abernathy’s tower. The old wizard’s worry-stricken face vanished from the crystal ball.

Back in the living room, Grey Wolf took charge. “You heard the boss. Leave within the hour. Let’s get packing, and get this over with as quickly as possible.”

Grey Wolf was obviously used to giving orders and being obeyed, and that suited Ernie just fine. Someone needed to lead, and it certainly wasn’t going to be him!

“Where’s Verdshane?” he asked the room. His voice trembled, for which he silently cursed himself. None of the others even seemed nervous. How could that be? And did any of them understand that stuff about a bear head and a blue field and a floating person?

“It’s in the Greatwood, to the north,” said Aravia. “Master Serpicore has a map of the kingdom on the wall of his library. Naturally I memorized it in its entirety. The Greatwood is only about a week’s journey from here, I imagine. Dranko, Tal Hae is your home. Have you never been there?”

“I’m more of a city boy,” said Dranko. “Forests give me hives.”

Yesterday afternoon, suspecting that Abernathy would soon be sending his team far afield, Eddings had taken the majority of Dranko’s windfall and purchased all kinds of traveling supplies. Ernie took it upon himself to carry the cooking gear, which nearly overbalanced him when combined with his spare clothing, travel tent, bedroll, and provisions. He looked at himself in the mirror that hung in the foyer, at the water skin hung on the hip opposite from his sword Pyknite
.
He felt almost glamorous, a true outdoorsman, and he showed a brave face to the others, as if this were something he regularly did for fun back in White Ferry. Kibi was looking back and forth between Morningstar and the sunlit open doorway. The Ellish priestess, Ernie reminded himself, was about to take her first steps into daylight.

Everyone had accepted Abernathy’s offer, even the elderly Mrs. Horn. Tor’s beaming face balanced the scowls from Morningstar and Grey Wolf. Kibi had packed the most—Morningstar’s tent, his own gear, and even a heavy mining pick—but moved about as though entirely untroubled by the extra weight.

“Ain’t got no weapon,” he explained. “Figured if there’s fightin’, I oughta have something with a sharp point I’m used to swingin’.”

Ernie made a point of checking on Mrs. Horn before they left.

“Ma’am, will you be okay? Walking for a week, I mean?”

The old woman laughed. “Ernest, I’ve been running the farm solo for almost five years, ever since I lost my husband. I daresay I walk more miles in a day than you do.”

“Oh! I’m sorry about your husband,” said Ernie. “How did he die?”

Mrs. Horn became serious. “I didn’t say he died. I lost him. Or, rather, he lost himself. Dear old William was a fisherman, and one afternoon his boat didn’t come back. I prefer to think of him as washed up on an island somewhere, building a new ship as fast as he’s able, and that one day soon he’ll be sailing home again. It helps me stay positive.”

“Say,” said Ernie. “Maybe in return for helping Abernathy, he’ll help you find your husband.”

Mrs. Horn smiled at him, wrinkles forming an oval around her face. “When I first read Abernathy’s magical card, a thought like that did cross my mind.”

* * *

They marched out of the Greenhouse and a pack mule was waiting for them, cropping the grass on the front lawn. “I did not have enough coin to buy you horses,” said Eddings, “but purchasing you a beast of burden seemed prudent. It can live in the back yard.” It was a sad-faced but sturdy animal that accepted much of the group’s paraphernalia without complaint. Dranko announced that he was naming her E.R—short for Emergency Rations.

They headed off down the Street of Bakers, then wound their way through Tal Hae’s unimaginable crowds and out the city’s wide north gate. Once into the countryside, they followed a northwesterly course along hedge rows and sheep tracks. The air had the cool bite of early spring, but Ernie was soon sweating and huffing from the fast pace Grey Wolf had set. Hours later, as the sunlight was starting to fail, his feet were blistered and one of his calves was cramping, but he only needed to glance at Morningstar to banish any tendency to self-pity. Poor Morningstar! She had her black robe pulled down as far over her face as it could go, and her hands were pulled into her sleeves so not an inch of her skin was exposed. Ernie asked her from time to time if there was anything he could do for her, but she merely shook her head. They had stopped several extra times when she had gasped requests in cracked whispers, but she uttered not one word of genuine complaint.

Aravia claimed in her know-it-all way that there was a small road that went more directly toward Verdshane. Grey Wolf decided they should detour slightly and march up a small steep hill to see if they could spot it before it became too dark. It turned out to be a tough climb. Morningstar had to stop half way up to catch her breath, and Kibi always seemed to be falling behind. Ernie’s heart was thumping and his legs ached by the time they reached the top, but from the high vantage it was easy to spot the thin ribbon of the road curling into the northern haze.

“See?” said Aravia. “I knew it was there.”

Grey Wolf paced around the flat top of the hill. “We’ve made good enough progress for one day, and this is a good place to camp for the night.”

Ernie sat down gratefully and propped his back against a boulder. Who knew that hiking all day would be so tiring? He allowed himself a few minutes to recover, then broke out the cooking supplies and started on supper. At least cooking was something he was good at.

* * *

Mrs. Horn sat down beside him as he ate. “Ernest, these are excellent carrots.”

“Oh, well, they’re from Abernathy’s food box. I just cooked them.”

She smiled at him the way his grandmother used to before she passed away. “When someone gives you a compliment, it’s yours. Don’t turn around and hand it to someone else.”

Ernie felt himself blushing. His trainer back in White Ferry, Old Bowlegs, used to say similar things. Ernie still remembered what the old man had said to him the day he left White Ferry. “You’re the best student I’ve got, and I don’t mean your skill with a pig-sticker, though that’s good enough for a start. I mean what’s in here.” Old Bowlegs had thumped Ernest on the chest. “You won’t misuse your gifts, Pyknite included. Copper to kettles, that’s why your great wizard picked
you
to visit him. You are destined for great things, Ernest Roundhill.”

Pyknite
was Old Bowlegs’ sword, the famous blade he had used twenty years earlier to singlehandedly slay the seven goblins that had raided White Ferry. It had been unthinkable that Ernie should accept it, but Bowlegs had insisted.