TWO HEADS TWO SPIKES (The Pearl of Wisdom Saga) (3 page)

“Where is Riceros?” Jon Colbert asked.

His son, Ryno, scratched his ear and said, “Last I saw, he was in the library with Count Sproul.”

“Will you ever reveal the truth to Riceros, father?” Krys challenged Jon.

“Someday, aye. I am just unsure of when the right time will be. You should worry more about your bride to be than your younger brother,” Jon slyly reminded him.

Krys had a gawky smile but didn’t have a ready response. He was a fierce combatant, but rather clumsy with women. Krys was lanky and extremely nervous about his upcoming wedding in the winter. His father knew mentioning it would draw his thoughts far away from the topic Jon despised discussing.

The Colbert men got distracted as they converged on the forging yard. This big area contained fifty raging furnaces lined up in a giant square. The sweet songs of metal hammers pounding glowing steel sounded melodic to their ears. These noises were offset by the constant smoldering of all the furnaces. The sounds got thunderous as they entered the yard. Jon looked back to see big grins on the faces of his progeny. They all had the brown hair and eyes of their mother, along with the determination of their father.

The forging yard was slightly on the outskirts of the city. Constantly covering the furnaces loomed a large slanted roof that hovered twenty feet above their heads. The enormous wooden structure appeared black from all the smoke it had swallowed over the years. But it did serve to keep out most of the rain, except for the precipitation that came in sideways. Seven Colbert flags proudly hung around the structure at regular intervals. The solid black flag with a golden bull represented the Colbert family that ruled Mattingly.

A townsman walked up, pointed at a furnace, and asked a forger, “Tis thee?”

The craftsman smiled showing several missing teeth, and cheerfully said, “Tis our Little Dragon.” The townsman stood in reverence for a moment until the worker said, “They are for forging our blades, good man.”

The boys could clearly see the furnaces now. They were stone-based burning furnaces with ornate black metal caps. The tops were shaped like a dragon’s head gazing up to the sky with gold painted eyes. Smoke shot out of the opened nose, up to the roof, and filtered into the Riverfront sky. Someone had etched “LITTLE DRAGON” on the base of the furnaces. The metals were melded together in the hot fire for three straight days before crafting the steel. These men were the top blade makers in all of Mattingly. They were the highest quality swords Mattingly produced. Jon Colbert reserved these swords that everyone called Dragon-Steel, for the residents of Mattingly. All lesser swords were sold to other regions or realms. Jon even had a building in which they constantly experimented with different metal contents for maximum results. That was where they came up with the recipe for the Dragon-Steel. He also kept strict records of those who bought every sword to make sure no one was arming for rebellion or re-selling the weapons.

They walked the yard for about an hour before heading back to the castle. While walking home, Jon could feel it setting in. One of his headaches was coming on. The intense pains always arrived randomly. He never knew when the pain would strike, but once it started the feeling was unmistakable. He realized that he only had a little time until light and sound would be his worst adversaries.

I hoped these pains would stop someday. But I suppose I might not be that lucky
.

As they walked, Jon Colbert listened to his sons’ talk.

“Yes, you were. I saw it in your eyes,” Krys mocked his younger brother Ruxin.

“I was not afraid. Not even for a single moment.”

Krys and Ryno gave their younger brother a hard time. It made him tougher over the years, but it still bothered Ruxin. All three boys had gone off to fight for two years on the Donegal-Goldenfield border so they could return as men. It was a common custom in Donegal to help cut a boy’s teeth. High- and low-born men mingled with the winning duel criminals to battle Goldenfield. Most soldiers stuck with the men from their own region, but they were all fighting a common enemy. Jon Colbert was glad they reached the castle now as his head was really starting to pound. He excused himself from the boys and headed for his chambers. He unsteadily climbed the steep steps, nodding at his guards as he passed them. He lightly pushed open the door to see his wife and daughter talking.

“Hello father,” said Mariah cheerfully.

“Hello, my darling daughter,” he responded as he hugged and kissed her on the forehead.

His wife took one look at him and shook her head. “You have a headache haven’t you?”

“A little one, aye,” Jon feebly replied.

“Well lie down, let me fetch a cold rag for your eyes,” Camelle said softly.

The cold rag and bed only made him feel slightly better. He closed his eyes tight, trying to force sleep.

“My dear, I am really worried about these headaches.” As he drifted off, Jon Colbert wasn’t sure if he was dreaming or if his wife was really talking.

“How often do they occur now?” Mariah asked.

Camelle looked over at Jon and turned to her daughter, “At least twice a month now, sometimes more oft than that. One day they might only last for an hour or two, other times almost half a day.”

Concern flashed through the brown eyes of Camelle Colbert. She was a tall woman with brown hair and a warm smile. Conventional beauty had eluded Camelle, but her other attributes molded her into a great woman. She was four months pregnant and it was really starting to show.

She paced around the room as Mariah asked, “Can Count Sproul prescribe something for him?”

“Everything he has given to your father up to this point has either not worked or made it worse,” Camelle answered.

“Do you think he should chance the Priestess of the Gods? I have heard stories that they can perform miracles,” Mariah said.

Seventeen year old Mariah Colbert looked very young and naive. She seemed to have been blessed with all the beauty her mother never received. She had a freckled face with light brown hair that bordered on blond. Mariah was tall and skinny, viewing the world through gray eyes.

“Never,” Camelle responded, “That black magic can stay in Fox Chapel. You shouldn’t even be speaking about things like that, young lady.”

“I was only trying to help, mother,” said a saddened Mariah.

“Oh I know. I am sorry, dear. It’s just if anything happens to your father, there is no telling what could happen to us,” Camelle softly told her.

“If anything should happen, Krys will take over as Duke of Mattingly and we will be safe with him, right?” Mariah always took a simplistic view of life.

“You just do not know what people can do when a powerful man dies. I do not think that will ever happen, but that is why we have to pray to the Gods for your father’s safety.” Camelle wrung her hands together to deal with the constant stress.

She was always worrying about her husband or one of her children and seemed perpetually tense.

Jon Colbert faded in and out of consciousness. He thought about how he would rather face all the nefarious barbarians of Histomanji than these damn head pains.

“Mother, will I ever get married?” Mariah questioned.

“You know what you father says, nobody marries until they are eighteen,” her mother responded.

“That’s what he said for the boys who had to go off to fight. I do not get to go anywhere because father and the King hate each other. I could never marry a boy like Ali-Ster Wamhoff.”

Camelle’s eyes opened wide as she looked over at her husband. “Don’t you dare let your father hear you say things like that.”

“He cannot hear us all the way from here. Besides, I never get to do what I want,” pouted Mariah.

Jon Colbert slowly drifted off as the pain subsided. He woke up an hour and a half later to realize his headache was nearly gone. He got up to prepare himself for dinner.

“WOOF, WOOF!”

The big dog jerked his head around and sprinted away from Riceros Colbert. He usually didn’t go this far into the woods with only his dog, Jasper, for company. It stayed cool in the Riverfront woods even though the sun blazed above. Riceros quickly realized he had ventured into the area of the woods known as the Blood Tree Forest. The trees had a reddish hue on their trunks and branches that resembled blood. It was also the site for the dire battle of Riverfront two hundred and forty years ago when Ali-Sander Wamhoff had been pushed back by Goldenfield before defeating the enemy and doubling the size of Donegal. The bloody struggle had proved to be the turning point in the war. Most people around the castle thought the woods remained haunted by the ghosts of the war. Legend had it that the trees drank the blood of the fallen soldiers to obtain their color. Almost everyone avoided the woods but Riceros unknowingly followed his dog right into the Blood Tree Forest. He felt a chill on the back of his neck and started to get nervous.

Riceros clapped his hands to call his best friend. They had a special bond despite the fact that they were polar opposites. Riceros was an undersized eleven year old while his dog was enormous. Everyone who saw him considered Jasper, the biggest of his breed, King of the bulldogs. Jasper stood up to Riceros’ neck and could easily lick the boy’s face with his long, leathery tongue. Jon Colbert had given his son the dog as a present on his fifth birthday. Riceros promptly named him “Jasper” in honor of his grandfather.

He clapped his hands again, even harder this time. Riceros kicked a brown rock aside as he looked around the shade-laced forest. He was worried now because he hadn’t heard Jasper for the past few minutes. The sun slid behind a puffy gray cloud in the sky, throwing the forest into more shadow and making it harder to see in the dim light.

Riceros spent more time with Jasper than he did with his older brothers. It all started when he began sneaking Jasper into his room until his father told him that he didn’t have to sneak the pup in anymore. Duke Colbert even made Riceros build a little bed for the dog. Riceros and the rest of the family loved Jasper equally as much as they loved each other. Riceros heard a panting sound behind him and turned around expecting to see his dog.

Instead, there were two slobbering wild foxes eyeballing the small boy. He drew his little dagger, even though he was smart enough to realize that he stood rather defenseless. The two huge foxes, nearly as big as his giant dog, growled at Riceros. He tried to swallow, but his mouth ran dry.

Please, I will never go this far into the woods again
.

Riceros’ eyes started to twitch and his knees felt like they were going to collapse but he maintained his composure and stared at the two wild foxes. Count Sproul had told Riceros that it was common knowledge around Donegal that the Wamhoffs bred their domestic foxes until they had got too big and dangerous. Then, they released them into the wild. They had been known to grow to enormous proportions. The foxes started stalking their prey. The larger of the pair licked its lips as the beast stood straight up on its hind legs. The other fox stood up too and Riceros noticed that their eyes turned red as the fearsome creatures approached on two legs.

Oh, no....did coldomores take over the foxes bodies? Please Gods, keep me from the darkness and guide me to eternal light
.

Riceros Colbert felt his pants getting warm and wet as he closed his eyes to accept a gnarly fate.

“WOOF, WOOF, WOOF, WOOF!”

His eyes flew open to see Jasper explode onto the scene, just as large drops of rain began to fall sporadically from the darkening skies. The two immense foxes took heed of the warning call, dropped down to four legs, and shot off into the camouflaged forest. Jasper chased them away and returned to Riceros. The boy’s heart was pounding. As he stroked his friend he realized that Jasper’s chest was pumping too. He put his arms around Jasper and thanked the dog for saving his life. They quickly ran back to the castle.

He gazed affectionately at the dog on the rainy walk back to the castle. The dog’s coat canvassed a blend of colors. Black spots blended into brown hair that disappeared into white. His back and tail were brown with black spots and his belly and legs were white. Jasper’s face was white with brown patches around his eyes. The round pudgy face housed an enormous tongue and his brown ears stuck up on top of his head. As they approached the castle the dog’s tail stuck up in the air in the shape of an upside down J as usual. The dog walked right in front of Riceros, like a true friend, shielding his shame. He led the boy straight to his room so he could change his pants and nobody would know he had soiled himself. Riceros changed quickly, hiding his pants, and then going to the library. When he arrived Count Sproul knew he was wearing different clothes but didn’t mention it.

He said to the boy, “Perhaps we shall start with the religions of Gama Traka, if you like?”

“But why must I know about the religion of faraway lands?” Riceros Colbert scribbled on his wipe away “paper”.

He had a flat black slab and a white rock shaped like a small quill. He used a hand towel to erase the words and write on it again. Riceros had shaggy golden hair and green eyes that matched his father’s, but while Riceros had a scrawny body, Jon Colbert had always been husky.

Count Sproul explained, “Well, my young Lord, knowledge can be a powerful thing. It may aid a man in ways he may not see now.”

The Count lived all of his seventy-six years in the region of Mattingly. He articulated with a soft voice and many pauses. He had long white hair that curled up at the bottom. Donegal required the counts to grow a long moustache for identification purposes and Count Sproul’s hung over the sides of his mouth and down past his neck. The counts wore them like a badge of honor, each one trying to grow his the longest.

The old man slowly continued, “My little Lord, life in Donegal can be fragile. Bonds that are strong today may be broken tomorrow. Men are inherently evil and unpredictable by nature. Power can be a great thing. When placed in the right hands it can help all the people. But when waved in front of the wrong person, it can have disastrous results. I have heard such sad stories of fathers killing sons, brothers killing brothers, even daughters killing mothers. They did all these things for filthy lucre and power that did not bring true happiness. I plead to our Gods every day that this doesn’t happen to Mattingly or any other region for that matter, but if that day should arrive you must be prepared. Do you understand?”