Chapter 432: The First Letters

Alex burst into the entryway with a smile so wide that his jaws should have been aching, but even if they were, he wouldn't have noticed anyway. As the doors burst open and the cold night wind billowed his cloak around him, every eye in the room turned to him.

Blood mages looked up from tending the wounded. Warriors stirred from half-doze, hands falling on weapons as they geared up for threats. Wizards and dwarven engineers turned from maps and schematics, still jumpy from the assault on the tunnels.

But there were no enemies and or falling rocks at the door, only Alex Roth striding forward like he’d just won every grand prize in the Games of Roal while Claygon shut the doors behind them.

By now, Alex was well known throughout the expedition, and his heroic deeds during the recent battle only strengthened his reputation. Watchers nodded to him with respect, and Thameish soldiers elbowed one another, tilting their heads and whispering as he passed by.

But most eyes—which had brightened when the door first opened—quickly turned away, expressions becoming indifferent: for as much as he’d gained a reputation for hard work, bravery and cleverness…he’d also become known as an eccentric.

Golem-dancing, muttering to himself and gloating over seemingly nothing were well-known Alex Rothisms and in his current state—widely grinning and nearly skipping in front of his golem—it just seemed as though he were going through one of his regular fits.

In a way, the young wizard preferred it that way: in this wonderful moment, he had a secret that only he—and Claygon knew—and that put such a spring in his step, that he felt like he’d drunk an entire pitcher of flight potion.

The only thing that would bring him higher would be telling his friends…which was why he was more than a little perturbed at finding them missing.

“Where is…everyone?” Claygon’s voice boomed through Alex’s mind. “They were…here. Isolde was…red.”

Alex stifled a laugh. “Yes, she was red, wasn’t sh—” He paused. “Wait…do you remember that?”

“Khalik and Thundar were…making that loud noise. The one you almost made now.”

“Oh, yeah…that’s right,” Alex said. “That is the sound I just made…huh. You know what laughter is, let’s chat about that after we find out where everyone went.”

He glanced about, catching sight of the blood mage Meikara. The young woman—a former member of Alex’s survey team—was examining Tyris Goldtooth, checking over a patch of bright pink skin on the lava mage’s arm: the remains of a freshly healed wound.

“Come on, maybe they saw them,” Alex said, approaching the two women with quiet footsteps, giving a little wave when Tyris looked up.

“You two alright?” he asked. “I know, I know, it's a foolish question to ask after a near apocalyptic battle since not too many folk are truly bloody well alright after something like that, but I thought I’d ask anyway.”

“Meh, appreciate the thought,” Tyris said. “And I’m actually alright. If you asked me that a few hours ago, I probably would’ve punched you in the face if I had the strength. But right now? All those wonderful feelings of ‘being alive’ are kicking in. Right now, I want an ale, a steak and a kiss or ten from a pretty boy.”

“No steak. Broth,” Meikara said, painting Tyris’ skin with a healing salve.

“Broth? Do you think the jarls of the north celebrate being alive with broth?”

“I don’t care about celebration or jarls,” Meikara said firmly. “I care if my patient dumps a bunch of poisons in her body while it's trying to heal—Why are you laughing, Alex?”

“Oh, nothing really.” Alex waved the question away, a hand pressed to his face, doing his best to force down laughter. “It’s just that you reminded me of someone.”

He remembered Ffion, Drestra’s friend from the Crymlyn, peevishly spitting like a cat when broth was brought to her sickbed.

‘I wonder how she’s doing,’ he thought. ‘I gotta remember to ask Drestra when I see her: we haven’t had time to chat yet and It’ll be nice doing some catching up with her. Wonder if she has anything exciting to tell me?’

“So did you come here just to harass my patient, Alex?” Meikara asked, her eyebrow raised.

“No, actually,” he said. “Did you see where everyone went? Everyone that was on our survey team, I mean.”

She jerked a thumb toward the stairs. “Do you remember that little fae fellow we rescued?”

Alex’s smile faded a little. “I just talked to him, actually.”

“Well, he went and spoke to some of your friends then he went outside. After that, they went upstairs.” She paused, thinking. “I think I heard Grimloch saying something about food—you know how loud he is—so I think you’ll probably find them in the dining hall.”

“Huh…” Alex said. “Okay, I’ll go look for them. Oh, right, while I was outside did anyone say when Baelin or Professor Jules would be back down?”

“No,” Tyris said. “Haven’t heard a word from them since they left with the Heroes.”

“Right…” Alex said. “Well, thanks, I’ll catch up with you after things calm down a bit.”

“Go with strength.” Tyris reached up and clasped his hand.

“Say hello to Vesuvius for me when you get back home.” Alex turned, walking toward the stairs.

She gave him a casual wave as he left.

Alex fell into deep thought as he and Claygon climbed the stairs; for the first time since the golem spoke, he began turning over the asrai’s warning in his mind.

‘This…fae,’ Alex thought of the blue-skinned man strolling along beside the Heroes…strolling with a friendly voice, and a predator’s stride. There was a wrongness to the creature that made the young wizard’s teeth grind. ‘I bet that’s what Gwyllain talked about with Theresa and the others.’

He thought of the last thing the fae had said:

“Don’t say the name. Some fae’ve got a bad habit of…putting lures in their names. Makin’ ‘em all sticky-like and letting them know when their name’s been spoken. Not sure if he’s one, but I wouldn’t put it past him.”

‘Names…’ he thought. ‘Professor Mangal talked about the power that lies in names: that if we acknowledge a name someone uses for us, then that gives that name power. What if it could go the other way? What if there were ways to make a name have power over someone saying it? What if—’

‘Vesuvius…that name…’ Claygon’s voice boomed in his mind, startling him so badly that a couple of passing blood mages recoiled, then scurried away, whispering to each other. ‘Is that the name of the big turtle I fought.’

All thoughts of blue frightening fae left Alex’s mind, and he turned to Claygon. ‘Wait…you remember that?’

‘Yes,’ the golem said. ‘He…strong. Hit hard. You told me…how to beat him.’

Alex peered into his golem’s marble face ‘Hmmmm, what’s the first thing you remember?’ he asked mentally.

Claygon stood silently for a moment, and his thoughts flickered at the other end of his bond. ‘Not sure…thinking…remember…rain.’

‘Rain?’

‘Outside…rain on body. Felt…cool. Felt…good.’

‘Rain, eh?’ Alex thought. ‘That could have been any time…do you remember all the dancing we did? The books Selina read you?”

‘Always,’ Claygon said firmly in his mind. ‘Will always remember.’

Another wave of giddiness went through Alex’s chest. His ‘golem enrichment exercises’ hadn’t been a waste at all.

‘Eat your heart out, Toraka,’ Alex grinned. ‘Can’t wait to show you how much my baby boy has grown!’

He paused briefly at the thought; he was most attracted to his girlfriend when she was in the middle of monster-murder, and his ‘baby boy’ was a doom fortress on two legs.

‘You know, maybe the question I’ve gotta ask myself is not, do I have issues, maybe it’s; how many issues do I have?’ Alex thought grimly, resuming his trek to the main hall. He glanced back at Claygon, wondering if the golem might be able to eavesdrop on his thoughts. ‘Hey, you didn’t hear that just now, did you?’

‘Hear what, father?’

‘Nothing. Nothing worth repeating.’

##

“There you all are!” Alex cried as he stepped into the dining hall.

On the other end of the massive hall, Grimloch,Theresa and the others were huddled at the end of one of the dining hall’s tables, each nearly the length of the Lu family’s taproom. It was built to support feeding the entire expedition team at once, along with any guests from the Thameish army and reinforcements from Generasi who might be about at mealtime.

Some had thought it a waste of space, but there were potential sieges to consider. And today had left no doubt that such things were a very real possibility.

“Were you looking for us?” Prince Khalik asked, running a hand through his beard then waving Alex over. “We were hoping you would be back soon. There is something we must discuss.”

“Yeah, I’ve got a feeling I know what it is too,” Alex said as he and Claygon weaved between tables. “But I’ve got something to tell you first.” He grinned. “And I think you’re all going to love it.”

“Is that why you look like the cat that has gotten the cream? Or the Khalik and Thundar that have tormented their cabal-mate?” Isolde scooted over from beside Theresa, making room for him to sit down. Hogarth and Svenia shuffled down to make room for her.

From across the table, the minotaur and prince shared knowing smiles.

“Yeah, but my reasons are a lot more wholesome,” Alex smiled up at Claygon.

‘Alright, buddy,’ he thought. ‘I don’t want to steal your thunder so…you seem to know how words work…do you remember how to write any words from the books Selina read to you?’

Another flicker of memories from the other end of the bond. ‘Yes. But…not so well. Never…did it before.’

“Great!” Alex said out loud.

His friends stared at him.

“Well, he has at last lost his mind,” Prince Khalik said sadly.

“Truly, a sad state of things.” Thundar shook his head, looking at Theresa mournfully. “It’s official, your lover’s a madman. How’s that feel?”

The huntress sniffed theatrically. “I always knew this day would come. When his madness finally overcame him. But, madness or not, we’ll still give him a warrior’s death.’

“It is the only way,” Isolde nodded sagely.

“I’ll eat the body,” Grimloch grunted.

“You are all the worst people I’ve ever met, and the only mad thing about me is that I’m continuing to associate with you bastards,” Alex grunted, digging into his satchel and taking out a roll of scrap paper and the largest, thickest pen he had.

‘Father? Why…all of you attack each other with words?’ Claygon asked.

Alex winced. ‘Um…’ he thought. ‘It’s humour, we don’t really mean it.’

‘What is…humour?’

‘Um…’ Alex put the sheet on the table. ‘I can explain that more another time…but basically, it’s the thing that makes us laugh. But, more important things first…’ He handed the pen to Claygon. ‘I’m the only one who can hear you through our bond. So…if you want to introduce yourself to everyone, you’ll need to use this.’

The golem gently took the pen from his father, and bent over the table. As the pen point touched the sheet, Alex’s friends all began looking at each other; a realisation dawning and spreading among them.

Theresa looked at the golem’s face sharply. “No…no way.”

Her eyes—along with everyone else’s at the table—fell on the pen moving along the paper. Their eyes grew wider as Claygon began to slowly form letters he’d been shown before.

Hello. Can’t. Speak.

I am… He paused, his head turning toward Alex. ‘Father…what letters are in my name?’

Alex felt a lump well up in his throat. “C…L…A…Y…G…O…N,” he said. “That’s how you spell it.”

Their friends watched—jaws hanging open—as he printed each letter.

Brutus suddenly sprang from beneath the table, bounding over to Claygon and barking excitedly.

Najyah—who’d been perched on a chandelier suspended from the rafters—let out a sharp cry, swooping down, flying circles about the golem’s head as he finished his first message:

I am C L A Y G O N. Warm. I feel warm to meet you.

Theresa screamed, hopping from the bench and hugging Claygon as Alex had. Khalik and Thundar whooped, cheering and leaping up from the table to rush to the golem’s side. Tears were running from the minotaur’s eyes. Grimloch actually smiled, while both Hogarth and Svenia wiped tears from their eyes.

“Marvellous.” Isolde’s blue eyes shone. “Tremendous. What glorious day: I must teach you proper decorum before the others corrupt you.”

It was a perfect moment.

A moment that Alex would recall for the rest of his life.

Which is why he didn’t notice Drestra rushing across the room toward him.

By the time he realised she was even in the hall, her hand had fallen on his shoulder.

“Alex.” Her eyes were as hard as gold. “I must talk with you. Now.”