The woman, who had brought Mikahl back from the forest rose to greet them as they came in. She wasn’t wearing her armored girdle, or her riding boots anymore, and her hair was no longer in its single braid. Her golden locks flowed like a waterfall over her shoulders. And the pale, blue formal gown she wore fit her shapely body well.
Another dwarf, a servant or attendant, rose beside the lady. This dwarf might have been a female, it was hard to say. It had well groomed hair, long lashes, feminine brows, and even the pronounced bulge of breasts under its garments, but, the well groomed beard that flowed down to its waste was thick, full, and disorienting. Neither of the companions pondered the dwarf’s gender very long, because the look on the human woman’s face was so sad and grim that their concern was only for Mikahl.
Hyden was so suddenly consumed with grief, that he didn’t even hear Dugak introduce the woman.
“Welcome to the Wardstone Witch’s hall. Willa Undite, the Queen of Highwander has been expecting you.”
Chapter 49
“Shoookin,” the wounded Choska demon called out an ethereal feeling for Pael.
It sensed the demon wizard at the edge of the Evermore Forest, north of the ruined city of Castlemont, not far from where King Jarrek, and the Highwander wizard, Targon, had killed the wyvern that had attacked them. The Choska found Pael there on his hands and knees.
The wizard was searching the ground for a certain type of mushroom, one that only grew in the shadow of the Evermore’s gray oak, because the spore fell to the ground in the droppings of the scarlet sparrows that nested there. He had already collected several dozen of the purple and yellow spotted mushroom caps, but figured that he needed twice as many more to get the yield that he required. He was growing frustrated over the amount of labor involved in his search, and he was missing Inkling, who excelled at tasks such as these. As the morning wore into the afternoon, the sun’s rays began dissolving the poison out of the mushrooms, leaving them white, chalky, and useless. In the shadows of the gray oaks though, he was still finding the potent ones.
Pael, so used to getting his way now, was discovering that even great magical power had its limits. As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t stop the sun from ruining the mushrooms, and he couldn’t just make the mushrooms appear in his basket either. Therefore, the most powerful wizard in the realm was reduced to crawling around in bird droppings, to find what he needed to execute his master plan.
The Choska demon’s sudden appearance hadn’t startled him, but it had effectively stopped his search for the day. He huffed out a sigh. There was no way around it. He would have to hunt Blood Caps again in the morning to meet his need. He checked the wicker basket he carried to make sure the ones he had already harvested were covered with cloth and protected from the sun’s rays. It wouldn’t do to have them turn to chalk while he conversed with the Choska demon.
Rising to his feet, and brushing the muck off of his robes, he noticed for the first time that Roark wasn’t on the Choska’s back, and that it was bleeding thick, black blood from several wounds.
“Did you get the sword?” Pael asked with growing excitement.
“Nooo,” the Choska hissed. “But the boy has been mortally wounded.”
“Wounds can be healed!” Pael snapped. “Why didn’t you stay and finish the deed?”
“There were others helping the boy, Great Wolves from the northern mountains, and the Witch Queen and her archers. There was a young Beastling as well, but it matters not.” The demon paused, and breathed in deeply.
One of the wounds in its side made a slow, wet sucking sound.
“Look at the wound Pael. The blade was alight with its power when it sank into me! I thought I was doomed, but it was too weak to draw in my essence. Errion Spightre’s power is no more!”
Pael looked. The blade had entered just in front of the Choska’s hind leg. The wound was deep, wide, and near the skin, but more of a stab, than a slash. Black blood had clotted around the opening, but hadn’t been able to seal it in scab. The Choska’s flight had opened, and reopened, the gash again and again, with its wing beats.
With a resigned sigh, and without bothering to wash the poisonous residue of the mushrooms he had been picking from his hands, Pael probed the wound. He spoke a word under his breath, and his right hand began to glow a dull, yellow color that was barely discernible in the bright daylight. Without prompting the Choska, he pushed his arm deep into the wound, and went to work.