Pool of Twilight - James M. Ward [35]
Kern had decided to leave on the morrow. He found his father in the tower's main chamber. The two discussed preparations for the journey, but Kern did not tell Tarl about last night's disturbing dream. Shal's illness was burden enough.
"One last thing, Kern," the white-haired cleric of Tyr said. His face was haggard, his voice hoarse. He had stayed up all night, watching over Shal and sending prayers to Tyr, pleas that had gone unanswered. "You're going to need a new weapon."
Kern nodded. His hammer had been destroyed in the encounter with Slayer, the abishai.
"Could I choose one from your armory?"
Tarl shook his head. "I think not. I'd be happy to give you anything I have, but I don't know that a mundane warhammer-no matter how good-will be of much use to you. I fear that many of the foes you'll be facing will be magical in nature, and for that you will need a special weapon."
"But where am I going to find an enchanted hammer by tomorrow?" Kern asked in dismay.
'That's where I come in," said a silvery voice. With a shameless lack of decorum, Listle rose right up through the stone floor to stand between Tarl and Kern. Her teardrop-shaped ruby pendant flashed brilliantly for a moment on the end of its silver chain. "Now come on, Kern. We don't have all day, you know."
"All day for what?" he demanded in exasperation.
"Haven't you been listening?" The elf rolled her eyes in exaggerated frustration. "We're going to get you a warhammer, you oaf."
An hour later found Kern and Listle on horseback, the city of Phlan outlined in shadow on the horizon behind them.
"You never told me you had friends who lived near Phlan, Listle." Kern sat astride a handsome white palfrey, and Listle rode a delicate dappled gray mare.
"You never asked," she replied glibly.
"Now how did I know that was what you were going to say?" Kern grumbled.
The late autumn day was gray and dreary, heavy with a shroud of mist. Their mounts picked their way along a twisting trail in a forest a few leagues east of Phlan. A few drab brown leaves clung to the skeletal branches of the trees, rattling like bones in the chill wind. All this did little to improve Kern's mood.
"Actually, Kern," Listle went on more seriously, "I never mentioned my friends before because they're a rather secretive lot. And, as a rule, they don't particularly care for humans."
"Well, that's just marvelous," Kern said in a pained voice. "Where did you meet these friends, anyway?"
"Oh, in Evermeet," Listle replied. "Hey, look there," she said suddenly, pointing to the sky. A glistening white hawk wheeled in the mist above them. "Do you think that's your father's work or Patriarch Anton's?"
Kern shrugged. "It could be the work of either, or possibly both. They're obviously keeping an eye on us."
It was a short while later that Kern noticed the change in the forest. The trees became green with leaves, and pale, sweet-scented wildflowers dotted the ground. It was as if they had abruptly left the advent of winter behind them, stepping through a doorway into spring. He looked at Listle in wonder.
She laughed brightly. "We're almost there. Now behave yourself, and let me do the talking."
A few minutes later they stopped at the roots of a huge, hoary old oak tree. It was truly a king of the forest, a massive giant that it would take a score of men with arms linked to encircle. Kern let out a whistle of amazement. The tree was at least a thousand years old.
Listle and Kern dismounted, looping the reins of their horses around a tree branch. The elf picked her way among the tree's gnarled roots, then rapped smartly three times on its rough bark. Before Kern could ask what she was up to, a high, reedy voice spoke.
"Who goes there?" the voice piped. Kern searched around for the speaker-then his jaw dropped.