Dragon Heartstone > Chapter 33–The Trail Less Traveled

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As they rode west, the peaks of the Krador Mountains came into view, rising, or so it seemed, above the tall oaks and pines of the Old Forest. Gall hoped the southern pass from Bretagne to Cazidor was still open. Otherwise, they might have to divert through the dwarf-lands. That would mean two more days traveling north, then at least three more to navigate the pass and reach Wolfbern. Of course, there was another path, which he had briefly considered. But that journey, even if it helped them find Larah and perhaps the Heartstone, was also perilous. Yet his thoughts drifted to Larah, and a dull ache gripped his chest.

He regarded Riasean, now that he had the chance, and could not help but be concerned and impressed. Despite the boy’s profession, he seemed confident and efficient, thoroughly committed to the task, and yet flexible when required. He still wondered why the Caretakers had chosen Riasean to retrieve the Heartstone and, for that matter, where the Heartstone might be. As usual, the Caretakers had been no help–it was “where it needed to be,” which was infuriatingly ambiguous. So where was it? Perhaps in Keihl trapped somewhere in the inner keep or Wolfbern? No record exists of where it might be–that much he knew.

Even if they found the artifact, what then? It had unique properties like the Grail but was unpredictable, like the fire element it contained. The stone could be used as a weapon capable of leveling cities or could consume the wielder completely. Had he not witnessed this himself, over seven hundred years ago, during the first forging of the Mordwahl, he would not have believed it. The memory remained vivid. The chieftain, Vohos, wrestled away the artifact from its bearer and attempted to use it for himself, only to be consumed within seconds by a brilliant white flame. All that remained was the Heartstone and a pile of ashes.

So, like all the other artifacts used to create the Mordwahl, the Caretakers made sure it disappeared into history and legend. Besides the Caretakers, only he and Faline remembered what it looked like. The thought occurred that she would try and get her hands on the artifact. Still, the possibility that it might destroy her would probably argue against it. Perhaps the Grand Council would use it? But first, they must get beyond their refusal to believe in the Mordwahl—a heretical mindset that would never happen.

Possessing and using the Heartstone were two different things. That the Caretakers had selected Riasean to bear the artifact probably meant he could carry it–yet how could that be? The Heartstone contained the untainted form of magical fire that would destroy anything impure. How could an assassin handle such an item without it consuming him? Then again, perhaps that is what the Caretakers intended to happen. Should he share that with the boy? His thoughts were interrupted when Riasean spoke.

“It appears we won’t be able to pass this way.”

Gall followed Riasean’s gaze. Several groups of horsemen gathered at the pass entrance, all dressed in long, dark gray uniforms. Emblazoned on their chests, and upon the fluttering banner overhead was a black pentagram on a field of red.

“Quickly, into the trees before we are spotted,” Gall said.

They plunged into the underbrush, branches snapping at them and their mounts. Jerking on the reins, Gall stopped and stood in his stirrups. “This is far enough.”

“I do not recognize that banner. Is it associated with Cazidor?”

“No, those uniforms belong to the Priori, the hired soldiers of the Magi. The Council must have sent them into Cazidor to maintain control and ensure no one goes in or out of the country without their knowledge.”

 “Then how do we get into Cazidor? Should we risk slipping by them during the night?”

“There are too many of them, and they are very experienced.”

“We could use the Brotherhood’s trails through the mountains.”

“Since they are allied with the Grand Council, I’m sure they have informed the Priori of that fact.” Gall shook his head. “The pass through the Dwarf lands is too far from here.” He paused, resurrecting the thought he had from earlier. “I know a way to get us into Wolfbern undetected, but it is dangerous. Are you up for the challenge?”

Riasean studied his face. “I’m interested. What are you proposing?”

“That we travel through the Land of the Damned.”

Riasean’s eyes widened. “The stories say no one has ever come out alive.”

“I have, and going through there will allow us to reach Wolfbern in two days. But we will not be able to take our horses, and once we start on that path, there is no going back.”

Riasean studied his face as if searching for some sign of exaggeration. “I understand.”

“Good. Unload your horse, take whatever you can carry, and we will begin.”

They unpacked their horses and set them free to graze in the forest. Carrying what they could, they passed through the tall trees of the Old Forest until reaching a clearing that abutted the slopes of the Krador. A mound of moss-covered rock stood out prominently. Surrounding it stood short, scraggly trees with no leaves.

“Is the entrance nearby?” Riasean asked.

“Yes, somewhere. The makers of the path disguised it well.” He walked around the rocks for nearly an hour, peering into where shadows and moss lurked. Finally, he pointed to a dark area behind some hanging moss.

“Here it is.” Stepping forward, Gall pushed aside the moss to reveal a stone door set into the side of the mountain. But instead of opening it, he turned and began searching the ground.

“What are you looking for?” Riasean asked. The older man picked up a long, heavy branch. “I will need this to navigate the dark.”