Abruptly, as though he hadn’t interrupted his tale earlier, the warrior stated, “Unfortunately, word got out about Karleah’s ‘prophecy.’ First it was rumored that Verdilith would die.” Flinn shook his head. “People actually prayed for the dragon’s return so I could kill it.”
“When did the prophecy change?” Jo asked.
“After my fall from grace. People said then that I would die if I was to meet up with Verdilith. The same ones who prayed for the dragon’s return so I could kill it now prayed for its return so it could kill me.”
Suddenly the animals jerked to an abrupt halt. Ariac squealed and flapped his stubby wings, and Carsig and the ponies whinnied. Dayin and Jo were thrown from their mounts, while Flinn and Braddoc had to fight to keep their seats. Fernlover panicked, fell to his knees, and then was still. Flinn lightly heeled Ariac in the flanks. The griffon quivered and tried his best to take a step forward, but he couldn’t move. Flinn looked back at Jo, who was kneeling by Carsig and pushing the snow from the horse’s hoof.
“Can you see anything?” he asked the young woman. He and Braddoc were still mounted, and each had drawn his weapon. This defense of Karleah’s certainly seemed effective, thought Flinn.
Johauna dug out a large ring of snow from her horse’s foot and called out, “Carsig’s hobbled by vines, lots of them. There must be something growing underne—ohhh!” Jo’s cry cut through the air, and Flinn saw dark, shiny green vines snake up around her legs and arms. He could hear the sudden rustle of greenery moving beneath the blanket of snow, and he saw the top of the snow quiver. I applaud your defenses, Karleah Kunzay, Flinn thought.
“Jo!” he shouted. “Are you all right?” He turned sideways in the saddle and prepared to leap toward her.
“Y-yes,” Jo said, tugging on the vines. “I’m not hurt, but I sure can’t move. How about you, Dayin?”
The boy stood beside his pony. Dayin struggled to lift his left foot and then his right, but could not. He shook his head and answered, “I’m fine, but I can’t move, either.”
Braddoc called out, “Can you reach your knife and cut the weeds, Johauna?”
“Cut my pets and I’ll cut you off at your knees,” a querulous voice shouted from the spruces behind them. Flinn and the others whirled in that direction, but they could see nothing in the dense underbrush.
“Come out and show yourself!” Flinn challenged.
“And why should I?”
Flinn was startled. The second call had come from immediately behind him, in a grouping of large stones.
“I only want to speak to you. We wish you no harm—” Flinn began.
“Spare me the details. Everyone who goes through my valley wishes me no harm. But they always do something, like cut my vines.” This time the voice came from behind Braddoc.
“We were only going to cut the vines because they trapped us,” Flinn said crossly. “If you will make the vines release us, we’ll harm nothing in your valley, Karleah Kunzay.”
“Humph,” said the voice again, only this time it came from a body. The wizardess stood halfway between Flinn and Johauna.
Karleah Kunzay looked exactly as Flinn had remembered her: a wizened old woman, so ancient her body was nothing more than dry leather over bones. She had bowed shoulders, lank gray hair, and an ashen face creased with myriad wrinkles. She wore gray sackcloth ornamented with gray basswood twigs. Thin green vines held the dress together. A faint, shimmering aura surrounded her, blurring the outline of her body. She carried a rough wooden staff, which she now leaned against for support.
“Humph,” the ancient woman said again. “So you know my name, which is more than I can say for most, but knowing my name doesn’t mean you’ll not attack my pets. Without assurances, why should I let you go?”
Flinn sighed, realizing she had forgotten their acquaintance. “Because I’m—”
“Because it’s vail vine,” Dayin interjected suddenly, and all eyes turned to him, “and it won’t hurt us if we give it a few coins to buy passage over it.” The boy smiled sweetly.
The old woman’s eyebrows disappeared into her hairline, and she harrumphed a third time. She pushed her staff before her, and the blanket of snow parted just enough for her to pass through it; it closed immediately after her. She walked stiffly over to Dayin. She was very short, standing only slightly taller than the boy before her. She reached out with a bony finger and jabbed Dayin in the chest.
“I know you,” she said crisply. “Follow me.” The ancient wizardess tapped the boy’s feet and turned around. She began walking back the way she had come, Dayin studiously following her.
Next to Flinn the woman stopped and peered up at the still-mounted warrior. “Seems like I know you, too.” Karleah looked Flinn up and down and then smiled a large, toothy grin. Her teeth, though crooked, were extraordinarily white. “Yes, I remember you. You fought a green dragon once; I saw it in a dream. You can come, too. The others will have to stay where they are, or they can pay the toll and make camp outside my valley. The vail vine needs to be fed, you know.” She turned and began moving leisurely away.
Dayin looked up at Flinn and whispered, “Throw down a coin for Jo and one for each animal, too, or the vine won’t let them go.” The boy scurried after the old wizardess.
Flinn pulled out six silvers from his purse, throwing one in front of the animals and another at Jo’s feet. A distinct slithering noise followed and Jo hurriedly mounted up on her horse. “You and Braddoc make camp where we entered the valley,” Flinn said to Jo, “and I’ll be back soon.”
“I don’t like your going off with her,” Jo warned.
“I know you don’t, Jo, but that’s just Karleah’s way,” the warrior responded as he dismounted. “Try not to worry. We’ll be safe. Take Dayin’s pony and Ariac with you.” He handed Jo the reins.
Jo nodded and turned her horse around. Braddoc, with one disgruntled look, followed. Flinn joined the slow-moving wizardess and Dayin.
“So you know about vail vine, do you, son?” Karleah Kunzay was saying with a certain admiration. She gave a laugh that was just short of a cackle. Flinn was reminded of the blue jay. We didn’t stand a chance of quietly riding into Karleah’s valley, he thought. “It’s not many that do,” Karleah added. Flinn raised an eyebrow and wondered whether Karleah was responding to his thoughts or making a comment to Dayin about the vail vine.
Dayin quietly agreed with her.
“Your father teach you about the vine? Did you ever make one?” The old woman was obviously prying for information, and Flinn thought to interject but decided not to. Dayin would likely tell Karleah whatever she wanted to know since he wanted to become her apprentice. Besides, the wizardess was quite capable of magically extracting the truth, if the tales about her were to be believed.
“My father made one and I helped, too, so that sort of counts.” The boy laughed shyly. “I got to hold the coins of greed he used to feed the vine.”
“Is that so?” the old woman responded.
“Oh, yes. It took a long time before Father taught the plant to prefer gold coins over earth and water, and I always helped with feedings. The coins always squawked about not wanting to be eaten by the plant. They wanted me to run away with them, but I didn’t,” Dayin gushed.
“Doesn’t look like your father’s with you, son,” the old woman peered over her shoulder toward Flinn. “I don’t remember him looking like that.”
“Father’s dead—been gone two years now,” the boy responded easily, without any grief. He turned and pointed at Flinn. “You know Flinn. He’s a knight of Penhaligon. And we left behind Jo, his squire, and our friend Braddoc.”
“Flinn, eh? Yes, that was the name. The Mighty Flinn,” the old woman murmured. When the boy opened his mouth to elaborate, the crone touched his shoulder and pointed to a tiny path entering a thick copse of evergreens.