The Book of Deacon: Book 03 - The Battle of Verril Read online

  “Hey!” she cried angrily. “Don't leave me up here!”

  Ether landed beside the others, just at the edge of the platform. A few paces ahead, the hole made it clear that it was not a platform at all, but a roof. Beyond it was darkness, and from inside, the distinct sound of shuffling feet and voiceless moans.

  “The whole floor of the valley must be riddled with tunnels and chambers,” Myranda surmised.

  “With their own crystals, no doubt,” Deacon added.

  “Bah. Leave them. If our purpose here was to damage the cause of the D'karon in some inane punishment for threatening Lain's precious little pet, then it has been done,” Ether dismissed.

  “What would happen if we did leave them?” Myranda asked Deacon.

  “Well . . . provided the undead didn't escape the valley, the crystals would likely run down and they would cease to live,” Deacon offered.

  “And if they did escape the valley?” she asked.

  “I can't be sure, but it was clear that the curse that raised these soldiers was meant to be spread. If even a single afflicted corpse were to make it to the outside, the curse could conceivably be spread without limit,” he replied.

  Myranda thought silently for a moment.

  “The crystals that are down there, would they have been stripped of their protection as well?” Myranda asked.

  “I poured a fair amount more effort into that spell. I would say any object on this mountain with a similar protection has been deprived of it,” Deacon answered.

  “So any crystals that are down there are as brittle as glass,” Myranda continued.

  “Roughly,” he replied.

  “Good. I have an idea, but I think I am going to need your help. You as well, Ether,” Myranda stated.

  “If you are even considering going down there, you can be sure I will of be no help to you. Such a foolish endeavor is undeserving of my aid,” the shape shifter stated categorically.

  Myranda calmly stated her plan. In her present form, a look of disgust was a near impossibility, but Ether succeeded admirably before reluctantly nodding. Lain set off for his part immediately, whisking to the rooftop that held Ivy and, amid considerable protest from her, bringing her to the ground. The pair then found the safest route to the rim of the valley and waited. With them in place, Ether took to the air, circling just overhead. Myranda crouched on one knee, Deacon assuming a similar posture. She placed the tip of her broken staff into the icy earth just beyond the edge of the stone platform. He flattened his hand against the same earth. Both entered a deep state of concentration. Slowly, a soft but undeniable rhythm began to emanate from the ground where they touched it. It was erratic at first, but as it grew stronger, it grew more steady. The rhythm grew into a rumble, then a roar. Bricks fell from damaged buildings. The hole in the roof widened. The pair of wizards worked at the spell, building it to the limits of their strength. Cracks split the earth. Whole sections of the valley floor fell away, bringing with them the mounds of fallen soldiers they had supported. Still the shaking grew. Snow, ice, and stone from the walls of the valley slid in great flows to the quaking floor. One by one the floor beneath the stone crypts gave way, swallowing them up. Finally, whatever earth had been left to support the valley floor crumbled away. The roofs of untold many tunnels fell in a single, earth shattering collapse.

  As the very patch of ground that held the wizards turned to rubble beneath them, Ether swept in and snatched them up, pulling them safely into the sky. She deposited them beside Lain and Ivy and landed, quickly assuming her human form. All eyes, save Ivy's, watched as the tunnel-weakened valley floor swallowed itself in a churning chaos of stone and snow. For minutes the relentless crash of stone upon stone continued as more and more vast unseen vaults caved in. Finally the deafening rumble subsided, and there was peace.

  “Is it done?” Ivy asked, venturing a peek that she swiftly regretted.

  The valley was much steeper now, little more than a sheer drop down into a vast field of jagged rock.

  “I would like to remain here until I am sure of that,” Myranda stated.

  “But . . . you destroyed the whole valley!” Ivy protested, finding the thought of spending any more time than she had to beside that dizzying drop far from pleasant.

  “If there is even one chance in a million that one of those things could claw its way to the surface and find its way to the outside, then I want to be ready to stop it,” she said.

  “It has been a rather long time since we've had a proper rest, and likewise a proper meal,” Deacon added, though few required a reminder of that.

  “How remarkable that you would speak in favor of Myranda's proposal,” Ether remarked, her more expressive form peppering her words with the understated look of condescension she lacked as a griffin. “And what if that massive creature returns while we are still defenselessly atop this mountain?”

  “I rather doubt we will fair any better if we are trudging along one of the passes below if it comes,” Myranda said.

  After a few moments unmarred by objection, it was decided. The team moved to a somewhat more sheltered cranny of the valley edge, and Lain swept off to attempt to scrape some semblance of a meal from the wind scoured mountainside.

  “Wait, I thought we had two big bags of food!” Ivy cried out from well away from the edge of the valley where the others sat.

  “Yes . . . I would imagine they are now buried in a stratum of debris and human remains, along with the horses, unless they made it through the tunnel before it was blocked,” Deacon said.

  “Aw!” she replied, edging closer to the others, as though the edge of the precipice would drop into the valley below if she made a false move. “Well couldn’t Ether just get more?”

  “Feh. It was folly to have fetched it in the first place. I see no sense in aiding you in such a way if you treat my bounty so carelessly,” the shape shifter sneered.

  Ivy sneered back, before turning and declaring. “Did you notice? I didn't change! Not once!”

  There was pride in her voice that was matched on her face. It was well deserved. In quite a short time she had gone from not believing that she and her violent transformations were one and the same to being able to consciously delay or even ward them off. Myranda turned to give her praise, but was cut off by Ether.

  “Yes. So I have noticed. You have made great strides toward completely wiping out the only thing that made you the least bit useful on the battlefield,” she stated, instantly wiping the joyous look from Ivy's face.

  “Ether, please!” Myranda scolded.

  “No, its fine. Let her talk. She's just jealous anyway,” Ivy said, matter of factly. “Because I'm getting better and better and she's making all the same stupid mistakes.”

  “You have no idea what . . . “ Ether scoffed before being cut off.

  “Enough. We are all tired. I think it would be best if you kept your daggers to yourself until we've had a chance to recover from this battle,” Myranda said.

  Ether remained silent for a moment.

  “Human,” she said, flatly.

  “What?” Myranda asked, frustration in her voice.

  “Not you, the human that actually seems to understand my superiority and treat me with the appropriate degree of reverence,” Ether remarked.

  “Yes?” Deacon asked, his excitement over being addressed directly by Ether quickly washing away any sting the remark might have held.

  “Build a fire, a large one, and quickly,” she ordered.

  “I shall do my best,” he said, springing to his feet and scanning the ice, snow and rock around them for some semblance of fuel.

  Finding none, he rummaged through his bag and retrieved one of the vials from Demont's workshop. He opened it, retrieved one of several acorns, and forced it into the ground. He held his crystal above and instantly it sprouted. Within a few minutes it was nearly fully grown.

  “If I recall correctly, it took me more than an hour to do that, and you said it was remarkable
,” Myranda remarked, having been asked to cast that very spell as part of her training.

  “For a first try, it is beyond remarkable. I've had a bit more practice. There, that ought to provide a fair amount of fuel, and a bit less effort than feeding the flames myself,” he said, ushering the oak tree to full maturity.

  A few limbs were trimmed and took to flame far more quickly than such fresh wood should have, no doubt due to a silently cast spell or two. Regardless, there now was a fire to be warmed by, and to refresh Ether, who stepped quickly into it. Deacon reached up and plucked a new acorn to replace the old one from the vial. As the others settled around the warming flames, Lain arrived with the meager find from the mountainside. With a frustrated sigh, Ether stepped out of the flames long enough for the meat to be cooked, rather than be used as a tool for the purpose.

  Ivy partook of her meal raw, as did Lain. The humans made short work of a portion that was barely adequate, Myranda quickly resuming her post at the valley's edge. Deacon sat beside her and lent his eyes to the task, sweeping the darkness below for movement. Over the course of a few minutes, Ivy edged closer and closer. Finally she was beside the others, albeit with her eyes dutifully turned away from the rather steep drop that theirs were turned dutifully toward.

  “How long are we going to stay here?” Ivy asked.

  “Until morning,” Myranda said.

  “Ugh. I don't like it up here,” she huffed.

  “You climbed up here. You weren't afraid then,” Myranda pointed out.

  “Climbing is different. You are on the ground the whole time, and you don't have to look down,” she said. “But that's not the only reason I don't like it up here. There is nothing to do here.”

  “I suggest you get some sleep,” Myranda suggested. “We still have a long trip ahead of us.”

  “I'm not even tired. Not even a little . . . I need something to do,” Ivy said, restlessly.

  “I could give you my pad again, if you would like to do more sketches,” Deacon offered.

  “No. I'm not in the mood. Myranda, your hair is a mess. Could I braid it?” she asked.

  “I suppose so,” Myranda said with a chuckle.

  Ivy squealed with delight and edged behind Myranda, her eyes carefully focused on Myranda's hair lest she catch a glimpse of the dizzying fall.

  “Deacon?” she said as she set to work.

  “Yes?” he replied.

  “You really like Myranda, huh,” she said.

  “I love her with all of my heart and soul,” he replied.

  “Wow . . . “ Ivy said. “How . . . how did you know?”

  “I suppose if I'd just opened my mind to it I would have known the moment I met her, but as it was I didn't really realize until . . . well, until I found my way to her again,” he replied.

  “And Myranda, do you love him back?” Ivy asked.

  “Of course,” she replied.

  “And how did you know?” Ivy asked.

  “Well . . . I suppose I realized when my thoughts turned to him so frequently after I left him. Why the interest?” Myranda asked.

  “I don't know. It’s just nice to know . . . to know that that sort of thing exists,” she said, fumbling for the words to express an elusive feeling. “I can't remember very much. And what I do remember is all bad, until I met all of you. I just . . . I'm glad that there are still good things, even if I don't know about them.”

  She finished braiding Myranda's hair.

  “It is very nice, Ivy,” Myranda complimented, admiring the intricate braid.

  “Thanks. I don't remember being taught it . . . “ she said, shaking her head as the terrible feeling of uncertainty began to buzz about it again. “I – I need something else to do. I need to keep busy. My head doesn't feel right.”

  “I'm sure I can find something that will interest you,” Deacon said, pulling his bag in front of him and beginning to pull items from it.

  A pile after pile of papers were shuffled out of the bag. Ivy glanced disinterestedly at them before putting them aside. The wind would catch them, but the pages would obediently halt and return to the bag when casually requested to do so. When it became clear that the writings held little interest for her, Deacon instead withdrew some of the other artifacts liberated from Demont's workshop. Ivy's eyes brightened at the sight of the colorful gems that he produced. The gems began to take on a faint glow.

  “What is doing that?” Ivy asked.

  She tried to pick one up, but recoiled.

  “Ow. They're hot,” she gasped.

  “Get those wretched things away from me, you fool!” Ether scolded from her place in the fire.

  “Oh, you hush, they're just little things,” Ivy replied. “Except that one. Is it broken?”

  She indicated a fairly large, irregularly shaped piece of crystal.

  “It looks to be. That's odd. I seem to remember this being perfectly clear. Now there's a cloudy black bit in the middle,” Deacon remarked, plucking the crystal from the ground.

  He inspected it carefully, turning it about in the light of the fire. The hazy blackness within was not an imperfection, but a slowly shifting stain, like a drop of ink in a glass of water.

  “Curious,” he said, offering it to Ivy to hold.

  She did not reach for it. Indeed, she simply stared blankly at him as he held it forth. There was no hint of emotion, interest, or even life on her face. He moved the crystal back and forth slightly, her blank stare slowly shifting to follow it.

  “Ivy?” he said with concern.

  “What is wrong?” Myranda asked, turning away from the valley.

  “She . . . she just went blank,” he said, placing the crystal on the ground.

  Ivy's eyes suddenly sparked back to life, a look of confusion coming over her.

  “What the . . . didn't you just pick that up?” she asked.

  “Ivy, what just happened to you?” Myranda asked.

  “What do you mean what just happened to me? He reached to pick the crystal up, then he wasn't holding it any more. Ask what happened to him!” she said.

  Lain was by her side now.

  “Pick up the crystal again,” he ordered.

  “Are you certain?” Deacon asked.

  “For heaven's sake, I'll pick it up,” Ivy said, leaning forward.

  Deacon quickly snatched it up before she could. The blankness took over again.

  “Ivy?” he asked again.

  She remained silent.

  “Give her an order,” Lain said.

  “An order? Very well . . . Ivy, stand up,” Deacon said.

  Ivy slowly and deliberately obeyed.

  “Ivy, what is your name,” he asked.

  “I have no name,” she replied, lifelessly.

  “What is this?” Deacon asked Lain.

  “Demont had a crystal like that. While he held it, Ivy did everything that he told her to do. She even saw what she was told to see,” Lain said.

  “Really . . . I must look into this further,” Deacon said, placing the crystal on the ground.

  Instantly Ivy was back.

  “What? It happened again? And why am I standing up? What's going on?” she asked, a swirl of fear and anger sweeping over her.

  “Oh. Eh . . . It was a bit of magic I hadn't tried before. Sorry to startle you,” Deacon explained, once again relying upon evasive honesty in hopes if avoiding a lie.

  “Oh . . . well ask next time,” she scolded.

  “I am very sorry. I will,” he said, pinching the crystal with the hem of his cloak to avoid touching it as he returned it to the bag.

  The other crystals were scooped up to follow it, the last of them knocking against something else within, producing an odd sound that seized Ivy's attention.

  “What was that?” she asked excitedly.

  “I don't know,” Deacon said, reaching into the bag.

  What he withdrew from the bag brought a look of utter ecstasy to Ivy's face and a look of deep confusion to Deacon's.


  “My violin!” she squealed, snatching it from his hand.

  Ivy joyfully plucked at the strings.

  “Do you have the bow?” she chirped.

  A second dip into the bag revealed that he did indeed. She grabbed it and drew out a long, clear note from the instrument.

  “I never thought I'd get my hands on one of these again, and it is the very one that I left behind when Trigorah and the D'karon caught me. How did you know to get it?” Ivy asked, the yellow glimmer of happiness pouring from her.

  “I . . . I didn't,” Deacon said, confusion mixing with a dash of concern.

  “Don't be silly. How else would you have it? Oh, never mind. Myranda! You weren't there the last time I played. I was so sad that you couldn't be there,” the excited creature rambled. “Lain! Please say I can play for her, just a little while, just so she can hear me play!”

  Lain looked at the eager eyes staring into his. They were at the edge of a valley in the middle of a mountain range, far from any prying ear. They were as well hidden as they were ever likely to be. Besides, the D'karon had made it clear with their timely visit in the valley just minutes before that there was not a place in the world that was beyond their reach. He nodded once. No sooner had he started the motion than Ivy put the bow to the strings.

  The melody was bright and lively, and utterly flawless. Her fingers danced across the strings with a master's skill, and the joy she felt to her core was obvious. The whole of the group was bathed in a golden glow and pain, weariness, or any other ailments were washed away from all but Ether, who rigidly resisted the wondrous effects. Ivy's eyes were shut as she focused deeply on the intricacies of the increasingly complex song. As she played, Deacon discreetly sifted through the contents of the bag, withdrawing a few select papers and looking with distant concern over the other contents. When it seemed likely that Ivy was several minutes away from a break in her playing, he quietly pulled Myranda aside.

  “Isn't it astounding? She is phenomenal!” Myranda whispered to him.

  “Yes. Remarkable . . . Listen, Myranda. The crystal? It is mentioned here. Ivy's soul was held in a crystal for decades while they determined how best to put it to use, according to these notes. The soul was released by fracturing its vessel when she was placed in this new body. The crystal Demont wore, along with this crystal, must be the remains of that vessel. It would appear that the gem is still tightly linked with her soul,” he explained in an almost silent whisper.