A Threat of Shadows (10 page)

“Brandson, I’m so sorry,” she said.

Brandson squinted at her. A foolish smile crept across his face. “Milly?” He tried to sit up a little straighter, but kept listing to the side. Douglon gave the smith a small shove to push him back up.

“I saw the smithy,” Milly said. “That’s terrible. Truly terrible.” Her voice trailed off, and she stood uncomfortably next to their table.

Douglon pushed an empty chair out toward her, and she dropped into it. When Ayda introduced Alaric, Milly nodded politely.

“You can all come out to the farm,” she said. “There’s more than enough room. You can stay as long as you need to.”

“We can pay you, Milly,” Brandson said.

“Pay me? For taking in my homeless neighbor? You had better not say that again, blacksmith.”

Brandson shrank back in his chair a bit.

Ayda clapped. “We’d love to! Can I milk another cow?”

“That’s not a good idea,” Gustav interrupted.

“Why not?” Milly asked.

“I did a good job last time,” Ayda said.

Gustav ignored the elf and leaned toward Milly, his dramatic whisper barely lower than a shout. “The fire wasn’t an accident.”

Milly’s eyes widened. “Someone tried to hurt Brandson?”

“Someone tried to hurt
someone
,” Gustav said, looking at Douglon.

The dwarf shifted uncomfortably.

“Do they know you’re here?” Milly asked.

“Probably,” Ayda said. “It’s the dwarf’s cousin. He dragged his family feud all the way here, and now Brandson’s life is ruined.”

Douglon grimaced, and Brandson let out a groan and dropped his head back into his hands.

“Well if he knows you’re here, you’re stuck. There’s no way out of the tavern without being seen.”

“We’ll wait until dark,” Douglon said.

“Or you could come with me,” Milly said. “My wagon is parked against the stable. You could hide in the back, and I can drive you out of town.”

“We’re not going to endanger you, Milly,” Brandson said.

“Then you’re stuck here until nightfall,” she said. “And with the full moon tonight, good luck sneaking anywhere.”

The table was quiet for a long moment. Douglon glanced at Brandson, but the smith’s expression was vacant. The dwarf turned to Alaric with a questioning look.

Milly seemed like a competent sort of girl. She was right about being stuck here. There wasn’t another easy way out of the tavern that he could see.

“I don’t know,” Alaric began.

“Oh, stop dallying and go,” Milly said. “You can each take turns guarding my house tonight if it makes you feel better. There’s a window in the stable, and the wagon’s just outside of it. There should be plenty of room.”

Brandson looked worried, but Milly shooed him toward the back door.

“Thank you so much, Milly,” Ayda said.

“Go on. I’ll wait a couple of minutes before I come out.”

The rest of the group went quickly into the kitchen. Alaric glanced after them for a moment. It wasn’t really necessary for him to hide from Patlon, but he was unwilling to let Douglon and his map out of his sight. Alaric paid the tavern keeper for a loaf of bread and a generous cut of ham. Then he set an extra gold coin on the counter.

“If a dwarf comes in looking for us, it would be helpful if you couldn’t remember where we’ve gone,” he said.

The woman picked up the gold coin and tucked it into her apron. “Where who’s gone?”

Alaric smiled at her and followed the others out the back door of the tavern. When he slipped into the back of Milly’s wagon, it smelled reliable, like hay and hard work. Like the stables at the Stronghold.

He pulled his legs up close, trying not to bump into the others. This was hardly the most dignified way he’d ever traveled. But he’d cram into a wagon half this size if it meant he got to see Douglon’s map.

Chapter 11

“We can’t leave Kordan’s Blight,” roared Douglon. “Not without my treasure!”

“Your treasure?” Gustav demanded.

“We can’t stay here waiting for your cousin to murder us,” Brandson tossed over his shoulder from where he sat adjusting the door on Milly’s wood stove.

They’d arrived at her farm a couple of hours earlier. Milly, who already knew about the group’s treasure hunting, had demanded that they explain about the smithy. She had taken it all in with surprising level-headedness. Once everyone had eaten and Brandson’s ale had worn off, the conversation deteriorated into an argument.

The kitchen was dotted with cups and pitchers of fresh wild flowers, making the room smell and feel like a serene mountain glen. Except for the smell of half-eaten ham. And all the yelling.

Alaric sat at one end of the table, letting the group holler at each other. Douglon’s map was spread out on the other end, too far away to read.

“If only we could understand the runes,” Brandson said, gesturing at the map. “Then we could find the treasure and be done with it.”

“Maybe we need to find someone who can translate them,” muttered Douglon.

“Translate them!” huffed Gustav in outrage. “I have translated them. It is not my fault that you’re too stupid to understand them.”

“You don’t understand them, either,” Ayda said. “Which might make people wonder if you’re a fraud.”

“I don’t have to wonder,” Douglon said.

“There’ll be no talk like that around my table,” Milly said. “Gustav is as much my guest as you two are, and I’m sure he’s doing his best.”

“Sorry,” Douglon muttered, crossing his arms and settling back in his seat.

Gustav snorted and rose from the table, turning his back to them and staring into the fire.

“May I?” asked Alaric, pointing to the map. He tried to keep his voice level.

Gustav shot him a suspicious look.

“Sure,” said Douglon, handing it to him. “Maybe you can see something we’ve missed.”

“I doubt that,” Alaric said, “but I’ve had a pretty thorough education.”

“Of course,” Brandson said, peering over the stove door. “I can’t believe we haven’t asked you yet.”

“I’m sure I won’t find anything the worthy wizard didn’t.” Alaric took the map and ran his fingers over the runes.

There wasn’t much written on the map and none of it involved directions, but the structure was mesmerizing. Each cluster of runes, its own sentence, ran into others complementing and subtly altering their meanings. There in the center of the map was the gem sitting beneath a tree.

“Do you see anything?” Brandson asked, his voice polite.

“There is something here,” Alaric said pointing to large runes at the top of the map. “What do you make of this, Gustav?”

The wizard glanced where Alaric was pointing and snorted. “
The valley of Kordan
. That’s one we understand.”

“Yes,” Alaric answered, “but this here, what you translated ‘of’ could have another meaning.”

Everyone was looking at him.

“Literally it means:
which is the same as
,” Alaric continued. “So instead of:
the valley of Kordan
, it would be:
that which is the same as the valley of Kordan.
” He met five blank stares.

“Meaning,” he said, “that there are two valleys. The valley of Kordan, which is what we’re in, and the valley that is similar to it.”

“We’re looking in the wrong place?” asked Brandson, his face stunned.

“It’s possible.”

“Let me see that,” snapped Gustav, snatching the map from Alaric’s hands. He poured over the runes, holding the map inches from his nose. “I suppose that could be one interpretation,” he said, “but it’s hardly the most straightforward reading.”

Douglon took the map back across the table and set it squarely in front of himself. “Another valley with these two rocks?” The dwarf pointed to two notations on the map. “There’s the Rocks of the Bear at the top of the map, and Mother’s Rock halfway down the left side.”

“Mother’s Rock?” asked Alaric.

Brandson nodded. “It’s on the ridge west of town. It looks like a mother holding a child.”

Gustav cleared his throat. “The legend says that a woman, Kessera, was so beautiful that an elf lord fell in love with her. They married, some say against her will, and a year later, she bore him a son. The elf was so jealous of Kessera’s love for her child that he cursed them,” he dropped his voice to a dramatic whisper, “and turned them to stone!”

“That’s a charming story,” Alaric said, glancing at Ayda. “What’s the moral? Never marry an elf?”

“Never anger an elf,” she corrected him.

“Probably good advice,” Alaric said.

“Seems like an elf would turn someone into a tree rather than a stone,” Douglon said.

“Elves turn themselves into trees,” Ayda corrected him. “And it isn’t a punishment. It’s lovely.”

“Anyway,” Brandson said, coming up beside Alaric, “those two rocks put Kordan’s Blight right in the middle of the map. The valley we are in is wider than the one on the map, but besides that—” Brandson cocked his head to the side, peering at the upside down map. “It’s Bone Valley!”

Milly, standing next to Douglon, shook her head. “The rocks are in the wrong place.”

“Not from where I’m standing,” Brandson answered. He grabbed the map. “Bone Valley is over the ridge to the west of us—the ridge that has Mother’s Rock. If we flip the map over, like this, so that Mother’s Rock is on the east side of the map, instead of the west, then the map fits Bone Valley, complete with a set of ruins at its southern end named Bear Stronghold.” Brandson grinned at everyone.

“You people need to stop naming things after bears around here,” Douglon said, but he was grinning, too.

“Bear Stronghold wasn’t named after the animal,” Milly said. “It was a small fortress where the chieftain of a mountain clan defended his people from an attack. It is said he fought as fiercely as a bear.”

Gustav grabbed the map. “Yes! That could be what it says. It is an old-fashioned word that today would translate to rock, but it has the idea of solidness and strength. I would say that ‘stronghold’ would be a fine translation.”

Alaric had come to the same conclusion, but he was impressed Gustav had picked up on the nuance. Alaric felt his pulse quicken. Kordan’s Wellstone was in the next valley. The antidote was almost within his reach. He rubbed the ruby at his neck through the pouch, picturing the darkness swirling around with the red light.

Douglon rubbed his hands together. “Well, at first light, we should stop wasting time and find our treasure. Brandson, please tell me there’s just one lone tree in the center of the valley.”

Brandson and Milly exchanged glances. “I’m not sure.”

“It’s right over the hill. Haven’t you ever hunted there?”

“No one hunts in Bone Valley,” Brandson said. “There aren’t any animals. The lake there has no outlet, so the water’s gone bitter. Besides…”

Everyone looked at him expectantly.

“It’s supposed to be haunted,” Milly finished.

“By what?” Douglon asked. “People who bury treasure?”

“By the ghosts of people who were killed by a dragon,” Brandson said.

Gustav looked sharply at Brandson, his eyes eager. “A dragon?”

“A local legend about a dragon?” Alaric said, reaching for paper to write it down.

“It was a long time ago,” Brandson said, “I don’t know any more of the story than that a dragon came and ate people. But no one goes into Bone Valley today. I went over the top of the ridge on a dare when I was a kid, but I didn’t go all the way down the other side. It was eerie. Part of the valley is forested, but it was unnaturally quiet.”

“Well, ghosts don’t scare me, and you’d know if there was still a dragon in that valley,” Douglon said. “If no one goes there, then there’s a good chance our treasure has been left alone. I say tomorrow morning, we go see what it’s like over there.”

“Yes,” said Ayda. “Bone Valley sounds lovely.”

Chapter 12

The sky had barely begun to lighten when they left the next morning. A mist skulked along the ground, and Alaric crept behind the others, beads of moisture clinging to him and dampening his clothes before they even reached the forest at the edge of Milly’s farm.

Alaric’s eyes were gritty from lack of sleep. After the others had finally gone to bed, he had lain awake, longing to steal Douglon’s map and set out immediately, but it would be faster to stay with the others. Brandson could get them into Bone Valley more quickly than Alaric could wandering around in the dark. That fact didn’t alleviate his anxiety to get moving. He had finally fallen asleep only to be woken up for his turn watching for Patlon.

The night had passed peacefully, though, and this morning, he carried one of the small packs Brandson had hobbled together for their trip. According to the smith, they’d reach the valley by dinnertime.

Douglon glared at Milly as she walked next to Brandson. “One more person wanting a share of the treasure.”