pointed to the wagon. “The peasant who showed us where the armor lay would have nothing to do with retrieving it, wouldn’t go near it once he had uncovered it. We had discovered enough riches to live like kings, so after we loaded up four wagons worth, we headed south.
“By the time we reached your town of Heslagnam, there were only six of us left, and we were down to one wagon. We’d abandoned a nation’s wealth on the road behind us.”
Kaspar didn’t like what he was hearing. “So, someone wasn’t happy about you taking the body, armor, or whatever it was.”
“Apparently so. We were never attacked during the day, or while resting in a town or village, but at night, alone on the road, things started to happen.”
“One night Fowler McLintoc just died. Not a mark on him,” said Kenner.
“And Roy McNarry went off to relieve himself one evening and never came back. We looked for a day and found not a hint of him,” added McGoin.
Kaspar laughed, a short bark that sounded halfway between dry amusement and sympathy. “Why didn’t you just leave the bloody thing and take the rest?”
“By the time we’d figured out that it was the body they wanted, it was too late. We had already abandoned the other three wagons. We measured out the best of the gems—they’re in a bag over there—and concealed most of the jewelry and other valuable artifacts; we found a cave, marked it, and just left it all there. We sold the horses for food along the way, and eventually got here. But every week or so, someone always died.”
“This tale is not persuading me to go with you.”
“I know, but think of the prize!” said Flynn. “The magicians will pay a king’s ransom for this thing, and you know why?”
“I’m eager to learn,” said Kaspar dryly.
Flynn said, “I believe you are a man of some education, for you speak the King’s Tongue like a noble, yet you’re from Olasko.”
“I’ve had some schooling,” Kaspar admitted.
“Do you know the tale of the Riftwar?”
“I know that one hundred years past an army invaded from another world through a magic rift and almost conquered the Kingdom of the Isles.”
“More,” said Flynn. “There’s a lot that was never written in the histories. I heard something from my Grand-da—who served as a luggage boy at the battle of Sethanon—and it concerned dragons and ancient magic.”
“Spare me your grandfather’s fireside tales, Flynn, and get to the point.”
“Have you ever heard of the Dragon Lords?”
Kaspar said, “I can’t honestly say I have.”
“They were an ancient warrior-race, who lived upon this world before men; they were even here before the elves. They were a race of dragon riders who could perform powerful magic. They were crushed by the gods during the Chaos Wars.”
“That’s theology, not history,” said Kaspar.
“Maybe, maybe not,” answered Flynn, “but the temples teach it as doctrine, and while no mention is made of the Dragon Lords in the texts, the legends still remain. But look at that thing, Kaspar! If that’s not a Dragon Lord, straight out of its ancient tomb, I don’t know what it could be, but I’ll wager the magicians at Stardock will want to know, and will pay to find out.”
Kaspar said, “So you need a fourth man to carry this thing north, help ferry it from Port Vykor to this Stardock, and then ask a reward from the magicians?”
“Yes,” said Flynn.
“You’re mad,” said Kaspar. “You should have stowed it in the cave and brought the treasure out with you instead.”
Kenner, McGoin, and Flynn looked at one another. Finally Kenner said quietly, “We tried. We just can’t.”
“What do you mean you can’t?”
“We tried to do what you said; but after we sealed the cave, we were no more than half a mile down the road before we had to turn around and go back. Then we stored all the gold and other goods, and fetched this thing out.”
“You are madmen,” said Kaspar. “I could go
“By the time we reached your town of Heslagnam, there were only six of us left, and we were down to one wagon. We’d abandoned a nation’s wealth on the road behind us.”
Kaspar didn’t like what he was hearing. “So, someone wasn’t happy about you taking the body, armor, or whatever it was.”
“Apparently so. We were never attacked during the day, or while resting in a town or village, but at night, alone on the road, things started to happen.”
“One night Fowler McLintoc just died. Not a mark on him,” said Kenner.
“And Roy McNarry went off to relieve himself one evening and never came back. We looked for a day and found not a hint of him,” added McGoin.
Kaspar laughed, a short bark that sounded halfway between dry amusement and sympathy. “Why didn’t you just leave the bloody thing and take the rest?”
“By the time we’d figured out that it was the body they wanted, it was too late. We had already abandoned the other three wagons. We measured out the best of the gems—they’re in a bag over there—and concealed most of the jewelry and other valuable artifacts; we found a cave, marked it, and just left it all there. We sold the horses for food along the way, and eventually got here. But every week or so, someone always died.”
“This tale is not persuading me to go with you.”
“I know, but think of the prize!” said Flynn. “The magicians will pay a king’s ransom for this thing, and you know why?”
“I’m eager to learn,” said Kaspar dryly.
Flynn said, “I believe you are a man of some education, for you speak the King’s Tongue like a noble, yet you’re from Olasko.”
“I’ve had some schooling,” Kaspar admitted.
“Do you know the tale of the Riftwar?”
“I know that one hundred years past an army invaded from another world through a magic rift and almost conquered the Kingdom of the Isles.”
“More,” said Flynn. “There’s a lot that was never written in the histories. I heard something from my Grand-da—who served as a luggage boy at the battle of Sethanon—and it concerned dragons and ancient magic.”
“Spare me your grandfather’s fireside tales, Flynn, and get to the point.”
“Have you ever heard of the Dragon Lords?”
Kaspar said, “I can’t honestly say I have.”
“They were an ancient warrior-race, who lived upon this world before men; they were even here before the elves. They were a race of dragon riders who could perform powerful magic. They were crushed by the gods during the Chaos Wars.”
“That’s theology, not history,” said Kaspar.
“Maybe, maybe not,” answered Flynn, “but the temples teach it as doctrine, and while no mention is made of the Dragon Lords in the texts, the legends still remain. But look at that thing, Kaspar! If that’s not a Dragon Lord, straight out of its ancient tomb, I don’t know what it could be, but I’ll wager the magicians at Stardock will want to know, and will pay to find out.”
Kaspar said, “So you need a fourth man to carry this thing north, help ferry it from Port Vykor to this Stardock, and then ask a reward from the magicians?”
“Yes,” said Flynn.
“You’re mad,” said Kaspar. “You should have stowed it in the cave and brought the treasure out with you instead.”
Kenner, McGoin, and Flynn looked at one another. Finally Kenner said quietly, “We tried. We just can’t.”
“What do you mean you can’t?”
“We tried to do what you said; but after we sealed the cave, we were no more than half a mile down the road before we had to turn around and go back. Then we stored all the gold and other goods, and fetched this thing out.”
“You are madmen,” said Kaspar. “I could go
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