The Tainted Sword

Chapter XIII

The setting sun touched the top of the trees as Flinn and his friends overlooked the valley leading to Karleah Kunzay’s home. Snow blanketed the forest and the rugged hills beyond, and rays of fading sunlight sparkled off the unblemished white. The slopes of the valley were lined with pale aspens and dark green spruces. A few birds circled lazily in the air, and Flinn eyed them warily. Spies of Karleah’s, he thought. A blue jay cackled, its voice reminiscent of the old woman’s laugh. The warrior grimaced. So much for my plan to surprise the wizardess, he thought. We’ll have to enter the valley on her terms. He nudged Ariac into a slow walk, and the others fell in behind. Jo followed on her horse Carsig, and Braddoc and Dayin rode the dwarf’s long-legged ponies. Braddoc used a lead rein to tow Fernlover, who took up the rear carrying supplies.

Flinn frowned as they descended into the valley. No tracks appeared in the snow, which had fallen at least three days ago. Along the line of trees, a deer spooked suddenly, her eyes wide and unblinking. She flicked her tail, bounded across the open valley floor, and disappeared into the forest. Immediately after the doe’s passing, the snow closed over the tracks.

Flinn smiled grimly. He raised an eyebrow and wondered what other surprises Karleah’s valley held in store. “Keep your eyes open,” he said as Jo and Braddoc came to flank him.

“I don’t like the idea of calling on crazy Karleah,” Braddoc grumbled once again. He’d voiced his misgivings once or twice before on the trip, but to no avail. “Seems we’re just asking for trouble,” he added.

Flinn pulled Ariac to a halt and looked at the dwarf. “What do you expect me to do? I promised Dayin I’d bring him to Karleah Kunzay because he knows her and doesn’t want to go to the castle.” Flinn waved his hand. “I can’t just leave Dayin here by himself!”

The dwarf said stubbornly, “Why not? He survived the last couple of winters just fine without you.”

“We’ve come this far, Braddoc,” Jo noted. She added sensibly, “It can’t be much farther.”

The dwarf looked uneasily from Jo to Flinn and then to Dayin. His eyes roamed the trees around him. “There’s something about… about this place that’s giving me the willies. The—the… trees want us to leave. Can’t you hear their whispers?” Braddoc’s voice cracked, and Jo looked at Flinn in sudden alarm.

The warrior moved next to Braddoc and gripped the dwarf’s arm. “Braddoc!” he said in a low, authoritative voice. “Calm yourself! The whispers—”

“There’re so many, so many!” Braddoc’s eyes darted to the woods again.

Flinn slapped the dwarf. “The whispers are just Karleah’s wards trying to drive you away! She doesn’t like dwarves, but fight against the charm and it’ll stop.”

Braddoc’s eyes dimmed, and he tugged nervously at his beard. The dwarf coughed suddenly and looked up at Flinn, his eyes clearer. His expression was grim. “I knew there was a reason why I hate wizards.” He laughed wryly, and the others joined in.

“Flinn,” Jo asked when the laughter subsided, “how did you know about the ward against dwarves?” She spurred her horse next to Flinn’s griffon. They continued slowly down to the center of the snow-filled valley. The cold wind was dying down.

Flinn found his thoughts slipping nearly fifteen years into the past as he told Jo, Dayin, and Braddoc the story of how he had met crazy Karleah Kunzay. He’d been recovering in the castle’s rose gardens one day after his battle with Verdilith when, unexpectedly, an old crone approached him. She was dressed in filthy rags and smelled of dust, and Flinn had sneezed three times during his greeting.

The old hag had come straight to the point. She told Flinn that she had dreamed of the battle between him and the dragon. On three nights afterward she’d had a dream of a second battle between them. In the first, Flinn had died while the dragon won. In the second, the reverse had occurred. In the third dream, both man and dragon died. Karleah told Flinn that, for a small fee, she would dream a fourth time and divine the true future for the next battle. Flinn laughed, handed the old woman a coin, and told her that he knew who would die: Verdilith.

Flinn chuckled as he relived the incident. “Although I saw Karleah Kunzay after that, she never did tell me if she’d had a fourth dream or not. And I never asked her,” Flinn finished his tale as they reached the valley floor.

“Why didn’t you ask?” Jo asked curiously. Dayin echoed the question. Braddoc was still eyeing the woods suspiciously and paid little attention to Flinn’s story.

The warrior shrugged. “I prefer not to know my fate.”

Flinn lapsed into silence, his thoughts returning to the strange wizardess.

Once, in the middle of the night, he had walked onto the parapets of the castle and found Karleah there. She told him she was settling in the hills northeast of the castle and that she wanted advice on how to protect her home. Flinn readily complied, telling her the kinds of defenses he would create. Snow that could conceal tracks after their creation had been one of his suggestions, and he was flattered she’d taken it.

Abruptly, as though he hadn’t interrupted his tale earlier, the warrior stated, “Unfortunately, word got out about Karleah’s ‘prophecy.’ First it was rumored that Verdilith would die.” Flinn shook his head. “People actually prayed for the dragon’s return so I could kill it.”

“When did the prophecy change?” Jo asked.

“After my fall from grace. People said then that I would die if I was to meet up with Verdilith. The same ones who prayed for the dragon’s return so I could kill it now prayed for its return so it could kill me.”

Suddenly the animals jerked to an abrupt halt. Ariac squealed and flapped his stubby wings, and Carsig and the ponies whinnied. Dayin and Jo were thrown from their mounts, while Flinn and Braddoc had to fight to keep their seats. Fernlover panicked, fell to his knees, and then was still. Flinn lightly heeled Ariac in the flanks. The griffon quivered and tried his best to take a step forward, but he couldn’t move. Flinn looked back at Jo, who was kneeling by Carsig and pushing the snow from the horse’s hoof.

“Can you see anything?” he asked the young woman. He and Braddoc were still mounted, and each had drawn his weapon. This defense of Karleah’s certainly seemed effective, thought Flinn.

Johauna dug out a large ring of snow from her horse’s foot and called out, “Carsig’s hobbled by vines, lots of them. There must be something growing underne—ohhh!” Jo’s cry cut through the air, and Flinn saw dark, shiny green vines snake up around her legs and arms. He could hear the sudden rustle of greenery moving beneath the blanket of snow, and he saw the top of the snow quiver. I applaud your defenses, Karleah Kunzay, Flinn thought.

“Jo!” he shouted. “Are you all right?” He turned sideways in the saddle and prepared to leap toward her.

“Y-yes,” Jo said, tugging on the vines. “I’m not hurt, but I sure can’t move. How about you, Dayin?”

The boy stood beside his pony. Dayin struggled to lift his left foot and then his right, but could not. He shook his head and answered, “I’m fine, but I can’t move, either.”

Braddoc called out, “Can you reach your knife and cut the weeds, Johauna?”

“Cut my pets and I’ll cut you off at your knees,” a querulous voice shouted from the spruces behind them. Flinn and the others whirled in that direction, but they could see nothing in the dense underbrush.

“Come out and show yourself!” Flinn challenged.

“And why should I?”

Flinn was startled. The second call had come from immediately behind him, in a grouping of large stones.

“I only want to speak to you. We wish you no harm—” Flinn began.

“Spare me the details. Everyone who goes through my valley wishes me no harm. But they always do something, like cut my vines.” This time the voice came from behind Braddoc.

“We were only going to cut the vines because they trapped us,” Flinn said crossly. “If you will make the vines release us, we’ll harm nothing in your valley, Karleah Kunzay.”

“Humph,” said the voice again, only this time it came from a body. The wizardess stood halfway between Flinn and Johauna.

Karleah Kunzay looked exactly as Flinn had remembered her: a wizened old woman, so ancient her body was nothing more than dry leather over bones. She had bowed shoulders, lank gray hair, and an ashen face creased with myriad wrinkles. She wore gray sackcloth ornamented with gray basswood twigs. Thin green vines held the dress together. A faint, shimmering aura surrounded her, blurring the outline of her body. She carried a rough wooden staff, which she now leaned against for support.

“Humph,” the ancient woman said again. “So you know my name, which is more than I can say for most, but knowing my name doesn’t mean you’ll not attack my pets. Without assurances, why should I let you go?”

Flinn sighed, realizing she had forgotten their acquaintance. “Because I’m—”

“Because it’s vail vine,” Dayin interjected suddenly, and all eyes turned to him, “and it won’t hurt us if we give it a few coins to buy passage over it.” The boy smiled sweetly.

The old woman’s eyebrows disappeared into her hairline, and she harrumphed a third time. She pushed her staff before her, and the blanket of snow parted just enough for her to pass through it; it closed immediately after her. She walked stiffly over to Dayin. She was very short, standing only slightly taller than the boy before her. She reached out with a bony finger and jabbed Dayin in the chest.

“I know you,” she said crisply. “Follow me.” The ancient wizardess tapped the boy’s feet and turned around. She began walking back the way she had come, Dayin studiously following her.

Next to Flinn the woman stopped and peered up at the still-mounted warrior. “Seems like I know you, too.” Karleah looked Flinn up and down and then smiled a large, toothy grin. Her teeth, though crooked, were extraordinarily white. “Yes, I remember you. You fought a green dragon once; I saw it in a dream. You can come, too. The others will have to stay where they are, or they can pay the toll and make camp outside my valley. The vail vine needs to be fed, you know.” She turned and began moving leisurely away.

Dayin looked up at Flinn and whispered, “Throw down a coin for Jo and one for each animal, too, or the vine won’t let them go.” The boy scurried after the old wizardess.

Flinn pulled out six silvers from his purse, throwing one in front of the animals and another at Jo’s feet. A distinct slithering noise followed and Jo hurriedly mounted up on her horse. “You and Braddoc make camp where we entered the valley,” Flinn said to Jo, “and I’ll be back soon.”

“I don’t like your going off with her,” Jo warned.

“I know you don’t, Jo, but that’s just Karleah’s way,” the warrior responded as he dismounted. “Try not to worry. We’ll be safe. Take Dayin’s pony and Ariac with you.” He handed Jo the reins.

Jo nodded and turned her horse around. Braddoc, with one disgruntled look, followed. Flinn joined the slow-moving wizardess and Dayin.

“So you know about vail vine, do you, son?” Karleah Kunzay was saying with a certain admiration. She gave a laugh that was just short of a cackle. Flinn was reminded of the blue jay. We didn’t stand a chance of quietly riding into Karleah’s valley, he thought. “It’s not many that do,” Karleah added. Flinn raised an eyebrow and wondered whether Karleah was responding to his thoughts or making a comment to Dayin about the vail vine.

Dayin quietly agreed with her.

“Your father teach you about the vine? Did you ever make one?” The old woman was obviously prying for information, and Flinn thought to interject but decided not to. Dayin would likely tell Karleah whatever she wanted to know since he wanted to become her apprentice. Besides, the wizardess was quite capable of magically extracting the truth, if the tales about her were to be believed.

“My father made one and I helped, too, so that sort of counts.” The boy laughed shyly. “I got to hold the coins of greed he used to feed the vine.”

“Is that so?” the old woman responded.

“Oh, yes. It took a long time before Father taught the plant to prefer gold coins over earth and water, and I always helped with feedings. The coins always squawked about not wanting to be eaten by the plant. They wanted me to run away with them, but I didn’t,” Dayin gushed.

“Doesn’t look like your father’s with you, son,” the old woman peered over her shoulder toward Flinn. “I don’t remember him looking like that.”

“Father’s dead—been gone two years now,” the boy responded easily, without any grief. He turned and pointed at Flinn. “You know Flinn. He’s a knight of Penhaligon. And we left behind Jo, his squire, and our friend Braddoc.”

“Flinn, eh? Yes, that was the name. The Mighty Flinn,” the old woman murmured. When the boy opened his mouth to elaborate, the crone touched his shoulder and pointed to a tiny path entering a thick copse of evergreens.

“There’s my home, right through those trees,” Karleah said proudly as they approached. “I built it myself.” Her crooked white teeth gleamed in the dusk. “Follow me.” Without further word, Karleah stepped into the trees, Dayin immediately behind her.

Flinn hesitated, harboring deep misgivings about the wards Karleah must have set around her home. “I can’t leave Dayin in there all alone.” Taking a deep breath, he stepped into the copse. Silence. He could still see the spruces and smell the pines, but all sound ceased. Nothing moved inside the still woods, and the magical blanket of snow had already erased the tracks of the wizardess and the boy.

Flinn continued forward, expecting to see Karleah’s house. Abruptly, darkness fell, black and unnatural. “Now I am deaf and blind,” he whispered, though he couldn’t even hear his own words. “Still smells like a forest, though.” Stretching out his hands, he stumbled through the trees. The branches bit at him with their brittle winter boughs. A twig jabbed his forehead and he cried out in annoyance, but the woods consumed the sound immediately. Panic threatened to rise in him, but he fought the feeling down.

“Karleah? Dayin?” he said, tentatively. This time, the names sounded muffled in the unnatural stillness. He tried calling as loudly as he could, “Karleah? Where are you?”

He thought he heard the old woman’s cackling response, “You are almost there. You’re almost through the wards,” but the words may have come from his own mind. Running his hand through his hair, Flinn pressed forward. How long he walked in that sightless, soundless void, he didn’t know. Only the scent of pine seemed real, tangible, solid. His relief at the sight of light coming from two windows ahead was almost overwhelming.

In a clearing ahead stood a hut, roughly the size of his cabin. A little light still remained in the sky above. The dark spruces that ringed the cabin seemed familiar once again and not darkly magical. The cottage’s walls of rough-hewn rock were topped with a pine-bough-thatched roof. The two windows were covered with thin animal hides that had been oiled and waxed so often they were semi-translucent. The light that emanated from behind the skins was golden. Flinn opened the door, which was made of planks bound together by vines, and stepped inside.

Warmth and light and an indefinable, almost palpable, peace engulfed him. Karleah and Dayin were nowhere to be seen in the opulent room he entered. Tapestries covered the walls, ornate furniture beckoned him to sit, and hundreds of candles cast their glow about the room—all only serving to highlight the loveliest woman Flinn had ever seen. In front of the fireplace sat a maiden, her skin pale and clear, her hair the color of sable fur, her eyes green as spring grass. She was framed by the light of the welcoming fire. At her feet lay a sleeping cat.

The woman stood and smiled, holding out her hands. The gesture was so beguiling in its innocence that Flinn stepped forward and grasped those hands without question. As he gazed into the woman’s eyes of green, he found himself struggling to remember why he was here and whom he was looking for.

The maiden smiled up at him, her gentle beauty shining in the light. “Kiss me,” she said simply.

Flinn almost complied. He leaned toward her, his eyes intent upon her perfect lips. But he stopped; the image of Johauna Menhir rose unbidden in his mind, and with it came the knowledge of what he was seeking.

“I—I cannot, lady,” he said as graciously as he could, releasing her hands. “I lost my way in the woods, and I am looking for an old woman and a young boy. Have you seen them?” Flinn cocked his head suddenly and looked sharply at the maiden before him. “Or are you…?”

Flinn felt, rather than saw, the radiant image before him shimmer. The dazzling candles disappeared one by one until only two remained, one on a suddenly plain wooden table and the other on the equally rough mantle. Gone, too, were the tapestries and furniture, replaced by homely counterparts. The cat became Dayin, who blinked rapidly and said not a word. Last to shimmer away was the beautiful maiden, and in her place stood Karleah Kunzay, in all her wizened glory. The magnificent room became simply a stone hut, cluttered with bottles and cups and canisters. Herbs hung from the rafters, lending an unpleasant smell to the stifling room. A brisk fire burned in the hearth, adding its pungent odor of smoke.

“Karleah Kunzay. As I thought,” Flinn said slowly.

“Yes, it is me,” Karleah said. She gestured toward a bench while she slowly sat in a rocker opposite it. Flinn lowered himself to the seat and drew Dayin to his side. “I sometimes test those I allow to enter my valley,” she explained. “Amusement, you know. It makes the days pass. I keep a tally, too; you’re only the second person to resist that particular illusion. I must be losing my touch.” The old woman winked and tapped Flinn’s knee. “’Course, I might have preferred it if you had failed.” The old wizardess stared at Flinn with avidity. Her eyes, sunk into her flesh, glistened with greed. “Why have you come, Fain Flinn? Are you here to discover the true foretelling?”

Flinn put his hand on Dayin’s shoulder. “The boy here is Dayin Kine. He says he knows you,” Flinn began, ignoring Karleah’s question.

“That is so,” Karleah nodded serenely. “I knew his father, too. What has Dayin’s fate to do with yours?”

Flinn shook his head and said, “Dayin asked to come here—”

“I told Flinn and Jo that you’d take me in,” Dayin said in a breathless rush. “I said you’d want me to come to you instead of anyone else, mostly because there isn’t anyone else. You meant what you said, didn’t you?” The boy’s sky-blue eyes grew wide with fear, and Flinn suddenly remembered how young the child was.

Karleah Kunzay cracked a smile and said, “Yes, Dayin, I meant it when I said you’d make a fine apprentice. I also meant it when I said I’d take you on someday. Since it looks like the day is here, here is where you’ll stay.”

Dayin impulsively hugged the old crone, who looked surprised at the display of affection. “Well,” she said, smiling and pushing the boy away, “that’s enough of that.” One of Karleah’s bent and bony hands patted the boy, and then the wizardess pushed him toward the door. “Go back to your friends for tonight, Dayin. Flinn and I have things to discuss.”

“Will he be ah right?” Flinn asked with concern. “Pshaw!” cackled Karleah. “The boy is safer in my valley than he was in his mother’s womb!” Dayin called good night and left the cabin. Karleah watched him go, then busied herself by putting a log on the fire. In silence she sat back in her rocker and eyed Flinn.

Flinn gazed back at her and said, “It’s good to see you again, Karleah. I wondered how you were faring.”

“Hah!” Karleah chortled. “Had you really been concerned about me, you would have come to see me.” She tapped his knee again, suddenly serious. “Why are you here, Flinn?” She gestured toward the door with her staff. “I appreciate your bringing the boy to me, for I am fond of him. But you could have let him make his way here on his own. He would have found me. You came for another reason.”

Flinn nodded. “Yes. I… need answers.”

“To…?” Karleah queried.

Flinn pulled out his pouch of abelaat stones and spilled the crystals into his hand. “To these—and more.” He looked at the wizardess and then asked calmly, “What do you take in payment?”

The old woman’s eyes were lost in the wrinkles of her face. Flinn grew increasingly uncomfortable in the silence. “The payment is usually in blood, Fain Flinn, for answers like those you seek,” she said slowly. “But from you I want something else. Give me four of the crystals made with Johauna Menhir’s blood.”

Flinn looked at her curiously. “Granted, provided you tell me why you want those stones in particular. And further, how did you know that some of these stones were made with Jo’s blood?” he asked.

“The vail vine is more than a toll. It also ‘reads’ a person’s history so that I know who enters my valley. But the vine couldn’t read much of your squire’s life, save that she’d been bitten by an abelaat.” Karleah warmed to the subject. “There’s something about abelaat spittle that defies detection. It’s very difficult to spy on someone like Jo, even using crystals made with the abelaat’s own blood.”

Karleah reached over and took four of the dark red crystals from Flinn’s hand. “These were inside your squire a long time. They are well made and probably more powerful than most other human-blood crystals I’ve seen. Johauna nearly lost her life in making these. Although these stones won’t allow communication like those made of the abelaat’s blood—”

“But we heard Verdilith through one of Jo’s crystals when she saw him in his lair,” Flinn interjected.

“So the vines told me,” the old woman nodded. “The vision was too tiny for you to see in the stone, but I believe Verdilith was using a crystal to spy on you at the same time. If two stones are used simultaneously between two parties, communication is possible.” Karleah paused. “However, there is a second explanation for your hearing the dragon through the stone.”

“What is the second? And is this the reason why you want Jo’s crystals as opposed to the abelaat’s?” Flinn held up the remaining amber crystals.

The old woman sighed and looked at the crystals she held. “The stones made from Johauna’s blood may be used only to communicate with Johauna, or for her to communicate with someone else—which is what she did with Verdilith.” Karleah paused unexpectedly, then chewed her lower lip. “Furthermore,” she continued slowly, “there is a possibility—however slight—of using these crystals to communicate whenever you choose.”

“Whenever I choose?” Flinn asked sharply. “What do you mean, Karleah? I don’t understand.”

The old woman was quiet, as if weighing her words. Flinn moved to speak, but she held up a hand warningly. “Do not hurry me, Fain Flinn,” Karleah said. She pursed her lips, blowing air through them in a soundless whistle. At last she spoke. “It is true that some crystals can cut across not only the barriers of space but those of time as well. They allow communication across the years,” she said slowly, “even with someone who is dead…. Yes, some of the stones are that powerful. But the effort to make such contact is immense and requires much skill.”

Flinn stared at the crystals in his hand. “Tomorrow I am going to the Castle of the Three Suns to right a wrong done to me seven years ago. Can the crystals be used to see an event that happened in the past?” Slowly he looked over to the wizardess.

“You wish to prove your innocence, is that it?” Karleah asked sharply. Flinn only nodded, and the old woman shook her head in response. “Flinn, look to your heart when you confront those who wronged you. You don’t need magic when you have truth,” she said solemnly.

Flinn continued to gaze at her. He sighed lightly. “You’re right, Karleah Kunzay, and I thank you for that. Truth is on my side, and with words I will make the council see that truth.” He tucked the remaining crystals back into his purse. “You have the gift of second sight, don’t you?” he asked quietly a moment later.

Karleah nodded. “It’s true I have the gift—or the curse, as the case may be. It has become a fickle one of late.” She paused and then continued, her eyes intent on the warrior. “However, it would be a simple matter to see what lies in your future, for it is a short one, Fain Flinn.” Her expression didn’t change.

Flinn’s brows drew together in a knot. He had expected nothing else. He shoved the thought aside for now and looked down at his hands. “And… and the girl’s future?” he asked tightly.

The old woman’s eyes glazed over. She spoke a moment later, her voice low and deep. “You meet your doom, Fain Flinn, the day you join Verdilith in battle. If your friends are with you, they will share your fate.” Karleah’s tiny eyes focused again on Flinn.

The warrior rubbed a callus on his left hand. “Your prophecies of doom interest me little, old woman,” he said, his voice deliberately distant. “If I must fight the wyrm, I must fight it.”

“Yes, but must your comrades?” she rejoined.

Flinn knew the answer to that question. He couldn’t bear to see Johauna die because of him, but neither could he bear to live without her. Not just yet, he thought, then closed his mind to the subject. Flinn considered what other questions he would ask the witch. He opened his mouth, intending to ask whether the slaying of Verdilith would restore Wyrmblight. Somehow the words, “What will happen if I don’t seek Verdilith?” came out instead. Flinn hadn’t even been aware of the thought, and he was ashamed he had voiced it.

The old woman smiled gently at him. “You know the answer to that question as well as I, Fain Flinn. The question is moot because you will hunt the dragon.” She shrugged.

Flinn returned her look, and after a while his lips grew rueful. Karleah Kunzay was right. He could no longer live a life without honor, without following the Quadrivial. Slaying Verdilith and avenging both Bywater and himself would ensure that he attained all the points of the Quadrivial.

His thoughts took a different turn. For Jo’s sake, he could live without following his knightly code of ethics. They could build another cabin—a larger one. They could forget about vows of honor and live a blissful life, cut off from the troubled world. A blissful life? he thought. I am a fool. A fool and a coward. I cannot turn back from the path now. I cannot betray Johauna’s faith and belief in me. I must slay Verdilith.

Karleah Kunzay coughed once, discreetly, to draw his attention. “I think it’s time, Flinn, for you to use the abelaat’s crystals,” the old woman’s voice was sharp and high-pitched. Her thin hand trembled before she rested it on her staff.

Flinn stared at her. “For what purpose?” His voice was singularly gruff, and he fixed his gaze on the wizardess.

“To see what you are to face. It’s time you take a look at your enemy.”

“The dragon will see us as well, Karleah,” Flinn argued. “And I won’t put you in jeopardy for an action of mine, not as I did the town of Bywater.” He shook his head.

The crone held up a hand, halting Flinn’s refusal. “The wyrm won’t see us, for this valley is protected well from such as he. But we will see what he is planning, and thus you will be forewarned.” Karleah brought out a copper brazier and filled it with small embers from the hearth’s fire. When the brazier was ready, she asked Flinn for one of the abelaat’s stones. She looked at it closely.

“Hastily made. I’d say they won’t be good for much. But let’s see what we’ll find out with this one. Hopefully we’ll learn enough so we don’t have to use another.” She placed the crystal in the brazier, and both she and Flinn peered into the basin. “Concentrate on the dragon, but don’t call out his name. We can talk because the dragon won’t be able to see or hear us through my wards unless we say his name.” After a pause, Karleah said, “It’s starting.”

The old wizardess drew some powdered quartz from a pouch and sprinkled it over the burning embers, taking care not to scatter any on the crystal itself. “I’ve enlarged the crystal so we won’t have to peer so closely into it. Ahhh, here we are.”

Flinn looked at the crystal, which Karleah’s magicks had enlarged ten times. As before, he caught the sensation of movement first. Then the images shimmered and coalesced into a coherent vision.

Flinn gave one anguished cry, “No!” and jumped to his feet, knocking over the bench behind him. The warrior leaped across the floor and out the door.

Jo sat close to the fire, her front too hot and her back too cold, despite the fur wrapped around her shoulders. “I wish you had let us camp in the valley, Braddoc, or at least next to the woods,” she said petulantly as the wind howled through their camp again. The dwarf had insisted on camping at the rim of the valley in a stony, barren plain. Although the snow lay shallow on the ground, the wind whistled endlessly and chilled Jo to the bone.

“I told you before, I want to stay as far as possible from that woman, her trees, and her vines!” Braddoc snapped. “At least out here in the open she can’t hurt us.”

The young woman was too distracted to keep up the argument. Instead, she listlessly stabbed the fire’s embers with a stick. Braddoc sat at her side, drinking a cup of mead. Dayin had returned a while ago, eaten his meal, and was already asleep inside the tent Braddoc had supplied for Jo and Dayin to share. Flinn and the dwarf shared the other hastily erected tent.

“What do you suppose is going on down there?” Jo asked for the fourth time that evening.

“Same thing as I told you last time,” Braddoc said tersely. “Relax, Johauna. Flinn is with a friend—at least I think she’s supposed to be a friend—and he’ll return as soon as possible.” He sipped his drink and hummed a little beneath his breath. Jo usually found the bass rumble pleasant, but tonight she found it irritating.

“It’s just that tomorrow we head out for the Castle of the Three Suns,” she said. “What if Flinn doesn’t return? What if the witch does something to him?”

“I see it now,” the dwarf smiled, though not unkindly. “You’re not so much concerned about Flinn as you are about reaching the castle tomorrow. Aren’t you?”

Jo rubbed one of her hands. She broke the stick and threw the pieces on the fire. “You’re right, Braddoc. I’m worried about nothing. Flinn is with a friend, and they’re just talking about old times or whatever. He’ll be back soon and tomorrow we’ll—” Jo choked on her words, her flesh suddenly crawling. She could feel the hair on her neck stand on end. She looked at Braddoc, who glanced back at her curiously. Then very slowly, very carefully, Braddoc’s eyes shifted to the darkness behind Jo, and his eyes went wide.

The would-be squire touched the tail at her side and blinked fifteen paces away. Braddoc rolled aside, but he wasn’t quick enough. The space beside the campfire erupted into a flurry of dragon limbs and wings and teeth as Verdilith leaped from the shadows just beyond the fire’s flames. Giant jaws snapped where Jo had been only a moment before, but she was now beyond the dragon’s reach. A massive and scaly talon fastened around Braddoc, and the claws began to tighten. Struggling within the beast’s grip, Braddoc worked his battle-axe loose and ruthlessly hacked away at the claws.

The dragon stretched his neck toward Jo again, and this time he opened wide his jaws and breathed. But the young woman used the blink dog’s tail again, and she found herself near the dragon’s rear haunches. Immediately she pulled her sword out of its scabbard and began attacking. The tough, leathery scales seemed impervious to her blade, but she continued to attack anyway. She would draw blood. She would. Verdilith turned his head away from Braddoc, whom he had been about to bite, to look at Jo.

“Hah!” she shouted defiantly. “Let go of my friend, and we won’t hurt you!” To back up her threat, she drew her sword high overhead. If bravado worked so well for Flinn the Mighty, perhaps it would work for her, she thought.

Noise rumbled in the dragon’s throat, but Jo couldn’t tell whether the beast was laughing or roaring. Then something crashed into her back and she was thrown to the ground. Somehow, despite the pain, she managed to hang onto her sword and roll over. The dragon’s long, supple tail was waving above her.

Jo heard Braddoc cry out. The dwarf swung his axe wildly as the dragon’s giant maw descended on him. Verdilith ignored the blade and engulfed the dwarf. Jo rose shakily to her knees and then to her feet. Verdilith’s mouth opened slightly and Jo glimpsed Braddoc, hacking at the teeth with his axe. She stumbled forward with her sword straight ahead, like a lance, and stabbed the dragon. The blade tip jabbed between the emerald scales and sunk shallowly into the creature’s haunch. Jo pulled the blade forth to stab again.

A sudden burst of color and light appeared in front of the dragon’s face. Surprised, Verdilith dropped Braddoc. The dwarf jumped out of the way, although he groaned after the twelve-foot fall. As the spinning sparks whirled before the dragon, Braddoc gestured for Jo and Dayin to come to him. He gripped the boy’s shoulder briefly in mute gratitude for his timely spellcasting.

“Do you think we should run?” Jo asked as she arrived.

The dwarf shook his head. “Our only chance is to make a stand and hope Flinn’s on his way.”

The colorful sparks faded away, and in their place doves and rose petals fluttered on the wind. Blinking, the dragon turned toward Jo, Braddoc, and Dayin. Again came that low rumble Jo now knew was the dragon’s laugh. She trembled in fear, certain she was about to die, but she remembered Flinn’s words about facing danger even when afraid. She shifted her sword a breadth higher. She couldn’t let Flinn down.

A shining burst of light raced toward them along the rim of the valley. The streak came closer. It was Fain Flinn, bathed in such a white, radiant light that he was both beautiful and terrible to behold. He held Wyrmblight high over his head and prepared to charge.

“Remember the prophecy, wyrm!” heckled a crone’s voice in the darkness. The words were repeated over and over again, in waves that echoed out from the valley. Jo felt the earth beneath her feet begin to slither toward the dragon. The vail vines crept through the snow and onto the barren ground of the camp. The leaves rustled and took up the chant where the echoes left off.

Flinn halted before the dragon, his sword arced back in a formal invitation to battle. He was still bathed in an eerie, white glow that made him seem twice as tall as normal.

“What say you, Verdilith?” Flinn’s voice rang out, deep and penetrating, shaking the ground. Jo felt something akin to awe strike her at the ominous sound. The warrior advanced two steps.

A rumble started in the dragon’s throat, and this time it emerged as a full-fledged laugh. “I say that now is not the time for us to meet, Flinn the Fool,” Verdilith said in heavy, dragon-accented common. “And as they say, tomorrow is a better day to die!” Verdilith launched himself into the air. Three heavy flaps of his wings saw the dragon aloft and out of sight in the night sky. The blasts of air from the gigantic wings buffeted everyone but Flinn to the cold, stony ground. The warrior staggered backward from the wingbeats, but he remained standing.

Jo and the others ran to Flinn when the dragon was gone. The odd, scintillating light around him was fading. He looked tired and strained, and Jo wondered what spells had been cast upon him. Karleah Kunzay came out of the shadows and joined the group at the campfire.

“What did Verdilith mean about tomorrow being a better day to die?” Jo asked anxiously.

Flinn put his arm around her shoulders and shook his head. “I don’t know, Jo, but your guess is as good as mine.” He looked at Jo, then at Braddoc and Dayin and finally Karleah.

“Tomorrow we find out.” Flinn’s lips tightened, and his expression grew grim.