Lexicon Chase and the Riddle Song

Chapter 1 – Broken Hope

Who would have thought that a library was such a big deal? Lexicon knew it had been missing--missing for a long time--but in the end it was just a library. Worse, it hadn’t had what was promised, at least not all of what was promised. After everything she had been through, the battles with the Gnolls and Gibberings, the endless daylong ride in rain, the combat training that had become more and more violent, the multiple assassination attempts, and all she had recovered were three scrolls. Three of thirteen scrolls were a start but not a very good one. Additionally, no one believed any other copies of the scrolls existed anywhere else in Everhope.

So Lexi sat in her receiving room with Maybell and did nothing more than just brood. The fact that she knew this didn't matter. That was a whole lot to go through to have nothing come of it. She told herself over and over that the translations may reveal the secret location of Bitterwood's keep, but considering they’d found three of the thirteen scrolls, Lexi kept her hope corralled. So, she was spending her day brooding--brooding and waiting.

Maybell sat silently, polite enough considering Lexi's mood, knitting something small and most likely useless. She didn't even hum her little song, the one she hummed or sang when her hands were engaged on some task that didn't require much thought. She just sat plumply in her chair, looking like an obese cartoon bird, while her thin needles clicked and scraped in a near mechanical rhythm.

Lexi could do nothing but stare at the needles, the ends twirling and dipping and then twirling again. She would have given anything for a book to read, preferably a high fantasy novel. Something with orcs and ogres waging war against man for some magic thing no one understood. Well, except for that one sage wizard who was always spouting how dire things were.

Of course, Lexi knew an actual ogre now and he wasn't anything like what the books said. This ogre was a scholar and historian. An enormous, overly muscled bookworm and history nerd with the heart of a saint. Yeah, he smelled kind of funky, his voice was always too loud, even in a whisper, but Lexi loved him all the same. He was so not what the books said ogres were that she couldn't help but love him.

She missed Stephan the most, the rather good-looking, young stable master-turned-knightling. When they returned to the city after finding the Library of the Realm he had vanished. She liked him, liked him a lot, and not in a book-worm-history-nerd kind of way either. He was cute and gentle and soft-spoken. But Lexi had seen him take the field of battle and risk his life to protect her. He had fought along with the royal guard even though he’d had less combat training than Lexi herself.

Miguel, the Captain of the Guard, reassured her that Stephan was hard at work with his studies and could spare little or no time for personal pursuits. Considering the boy began training without being able to read, it was taking more time than it normally would. In the end, Stephan was required to complete studies in the most basic arts of logistics and tactics, leadership, and even structural engineering. Lexi didn't understand why Stephan had to take these classes, and in her own training she didn't, but that didn't matter. In the end, she hadn't seen Stephan in days and she missed his strong, warm hands and gentle brown eyes.

The others, almost all of those who followed her into the wild to find the library, were infirmed in the healer's ward. To Lexi, the healer’s ward seemed like a hospital--a rudimentary and nearly barbaric hospital, but a place of healing nonetheless. What used to be accomplished in just a few moments with magic was now left to those who could sew. The curse on the kingdom was bringing everything to ruin, in a slow way. One of the things that suffered was magic. Sorcery was almost nonexistent in today's Everhope.

Lady Grace, a fae witch and the Lady of the Glade, had offered her services with the healing, but even a woman as powerful and ancient as she couldn't help much within the confines of the realm of Everhope. In the end, the curse was more powerful, more ancient than even the Lady Grace.

Lexi found herself wishing Grace was around, but on the third day after the company’s return, Lady Grace had taken her procession out to the library. She’d said it was to look over the knowledge the fae had entrusted to the library, but Lexi thought she might take back some--if not all--of the books donated by the fae and, really, Lexi couldn't blame her.

Word of the library's return had spread across the lands quickly, and emissaries of the other human kingdoms, the ogre tribes, even a small group from as far away as Stormreach had come to see the returned building and, perhaps, to riffle through it for knowledge. Even the old dwarf, Kirksdale, hinted that his purpose was to reclaim what had been entrusted and lost.

Lexi wasn't sure what to do about any of that. Her decision to send a contingent of armed soldiers to the library to ensure that books and scrolls were not stolen hadn't worked out. Buckhead, the general and leader of all Everhope’s armed forces, had told her it would look as though she were taking the library for Everhope and that the other kingdoms may resist such a thing. In the end, she decided to just let whatever happened happen. Still, Barnacle Wiseeye, the Royal Librarian, had taken a small group of rangers garbed as free citizens to the library to try and save what could be saved. The whole situation was nothing like Lexi had envisioned.

She stood, strolled across the room, and stared out the glassless window. She could see the expanse of the royal gardens and the stables as well as the fields used to exercise the royal mounts. Beyond all this was the deep, aged forest that surrounded the kingdom on all sides but one. Although she couldn't see them, she knew that homesteads and farmsteads and even villages were sprinkled throughout the forest, and those places constituted about half of the populace of Everhope. At further distances stood keeps of highborn families, which were surrounded by their own homesteads like satellites. In the few weeks since Lexicon had first come to Everhope she had learned so much.

But right now she prayed for something to happen, anything to break the dull monotony of Maybell's incessant clicking with her knitting needles.

Then something did happen.

There was a knock at the door. It was a gentle sound, as if whomever was on the other side was hesitant or even afraid of knocking. Lexi watched Maybell set aside whatever it was she was knitting and tried to remember something her grandma had said once, a long time ago, about callers without purpose.

Maybell opened the door, whispered for a moment, and then closed the door again. She cleared her throat and said, Princess, Geoff would like a word with you.

The translation, he had completed the translation! Three days of idle waiting and it was finally over. Yes, please let him in, Lexi said in a rush, then raced to the couch, and sat, as if there was nothing wrong in the world.

Maybell opened the door wide, stepping aside to allow the wizard admittance.

The man looked pretty much like he had the last time Lexi had seen him, which was pretty much like the first time she had met him. For all Lexi could tell, he was wearing the same robes and had yet to find a shower, or bath. There weren’t any showers in Everhope.

Princess, forgive my intrusion, the wizard hissed in his snakelike voice before bowing almost obnoxiously low.

Come in, Geoff. Have you completed the translations? Lexi asked. She tried not to sound excited but couldn't help leaning toward the wizard.

In a manner of speaking, I have. Only, there are others checking my judgments to make sure they are not flawed, Geoff said.

He stood at a respectful distance, his hands folded in front of him. In his fingers, he clasped a single sheet of paper, or parchment. Lexi's eyes kept returning to the parchment and then darting back to the wizard. Well?

It is not the news the princess hoped for, I am afraid. There is much in the scrolls but little concerning the keep. I am sure Barnacle has told you that it is all told with a flare for the fictitious?

Yes, he did. But there is some truth to it, isn't there? Lexi asked.

There is, or at least I believe there is, Geoff said. However, I am sure other scholars would disagree with me on that and, perhaps, my translations as well.

So what did you find out? Lexi asked, pointing at the paper in Geoff's hand.

Oh, as I said, not much, Geoff replied, holding the paper just a mere inch from his face. The keep hides within the bole of a great tree, meaning inside the massive trunk, and above that in the branches. Bitterwood, it seems, was a powerful druid and communed long with the tree that houses his keep. Much of his ill intent may yet reside there.

Lexi looked at Maybell, who was failing to show disinterest as she continued her knitting. Lexi looked back at the ragged wizard, You mean like a ghost?

Geoff balked a moment, No, Princess. Only Soul Sippers can claim to speak with ghosts and I am not one of those!

He said this in such a defiant tone that Lexi felt herself flinch. Others had said her little conversation with a ghost meant she was a Soul Sipper, but was being a Soul Sipper such a horrible thing as that?

Geoff cleared his throat, inhaled deeply, and said, Alas, not specters of the living, long dead. But his magic was powerful, more powerful than any today, and it--not Bitterwood--may still haunt the bole of that great tree. He turned his head and looked at Maybell for a moment before adding, If I were to approach that tree, I would be very careful and much on guard. He finished the last with a piercing gaze at the princess.

Lexi knew it was one of his warnings to not seek another adventure. It had about the same effect as the last warning he’d given just before they left to seek the library.

Geoff, you know as well as I that you can't warn me away from this. It needs to be done. Lexi tilted her head as she leaned back into the sofa.

Of course, Your Highness, Geoff replied flatly but still with that infuriating, snake-like hiss.

Perhaps you should come the next time, Geoff. Maybe you can ward us from the evil magics of long dead druids? Maybell asked, still clicking and swirling her needles.

No Maybell, I am too old and too busy to go traveling about like that. I would have thought the same of you, actually.

Maybell stopped her clicking and looked up at the wizard, her eyes those of a big cat ready to pounce on some tasty prey.

Geoff, mind your manners, Lexi said. Maybell traveled well. Isn't that right, Maybell?

As you say, Princess. Her voice wasn't sharp, but the way she spoke dripped like frigid water.

I was just making light at your expense, Madam Maybell. I meant no disrespect. Geoff bowed to her as deeply as he bowed to the princess.

Lexi wasn't sure why, but this made her angry. Still, she had to know. Continue, Geoff. What else did you find?

Geoff tilted his head slightly, The great tree is to the west, as we all knew. It is a day’s travel to the beaches of the Great Ocean, and three weeks to Stormreach. It is edged by swamp on two sides. We can only guess one side abutting a swamp is the Eastern side.

Geoff looked at Maybell a moment, then back to Lexi. The most important point is that the den is hidden by forest, and earth, and magic. It will not be possible to find it. You could walk into the tree hiding it and never know it was there. That, and a password is needed to open the tree and reveal the keep.

Lexi leaned forward again, Password? What's the password?

I don't know, Princess, Geoff said, and the bard didn't reveal it in the scrolls. At least, not in the scrolls we have. However, she speaks of a tribe of people to the west that keeps a riddle as folklore. That riddle, Princess, the answer to it is the password, if that password be spoken in the old language.

In the old language?

The language of Everhope as it was spoken a thousand years ago. Geoff seemed to both blush and grow pale at the same time.

How are we supposed to know how it was pronounced a thousand years ago?

Geoff swallowed as though he was embarrassed, I assure the princess, I do not know.

Lexi stared at him for a thoughtful moment, trying to embrace all of the impossibilities at once. So, to find a keep that is hidden, we must find a lost tribe of people who know a riddle, the answer to which, spoken in a way no one can speak, will open the keep we don't know the location of in the first place. Do I have that all correct?

Geoff nodded, Yes, Princess.

Lexi had felt hopeless just a few moments ago, but now she felt deflated like an old, tired balloon. For her, this was a bit more than hopeless and a lot more than frustrating. Do we know anything about the tribe of people? She asked, not even trying to filter the aggravation from her voice.

No, Princess, Geoff said then raised a finger straight up. We know they are called the Morli and they lived within a swamp, or what Slipperfoot described as a swamp.

Lexi looked up at the greasy, hissing man, But that was like centuries ago, right?

Yes, Princess, Geoff said. We don't hear news from that far west and I have not heard any tale of them save for the Harlequin Scrolls.

Lexicon favored Geoff with a small smile, How long until the translations are confirmed?

A few days, but I would bet they are close enough.

Lexi nodded at him, Okay, would you do me a favor and ask Barnacle about the Morli? Perhaps he knows something about them.

Yes, Princess, if you'll pardon me, Geoff said and bowed to her.

Lexi watched him slide through the door then let her head rock forward on her neck. This was worse than the whole library thing. When she began that little journey she had no clues, no hints, and only followed her instinct. It was daunting in the beginning, trying to find a library that people had lost, but nothing like this.

She rolled her head toward Maybell, who was making another poor attempt at looking placid and disinterested. Don't you have anything to say, Maybell?

About what, Princess?

How impossible this whole thing is?

Maybell's mouth slid into a lopsided grin, Would it make a difference, Your Majesty? She hadn't even bothered to look up when she spoke.

Lexi felt her eyebrows raise as she realized the old handmaiden was probably right. In the past few days, or really the past month--at least in Everhope time--Lexi had discovered an unrealized stubbornness in her personality. When she made up her mind, she didn't change it easily. In the end, Lexi liked the trait and didn't have immediate plans to change it.

CHAPTER 2 - Worthiness

Miguel sat across from Buckhead, easing himself into the chair positioned in front of the general's desk. The seat was designed to fit everyone from ogre to human and even had detachable leg rests should its occupant have a leg wound. However, Miguel thought the comfort it provided was much too over-indulgent, especially considering his recent travels.

Miguel noticed that across the desk Buckhead was watching him carefully, waiting for him to settle. Sorry, General, Miguel said. After a month in the saddle, this chair is somewhat… odd.

Buckhead smiled at him for a moment, then became serious again, So, what tale have you of the princess?

Miguel leaned back in the chair, resting his feet on a small ottoman between himself and the desk. The part of the chair's construction that made it suitable for ogres prevented his feet from reaching the ground. In what way, sir?

Buckhead leaned forward, rested his forearms on the desk, Ever since she came to me and asked to take up training with Steadmen I have found her… curious.

Miguel tilted his head to one side, In what way, sir?

Come now, Captain, you know, Buckhead said, a grin crossing his face. Let's just say, she is not her grandmother's child. That's plain enough.

No sir, she isn't, Miguel agreed, confused by the line of questioning.

What I am looking for, Captain, is your thoughts on--oh I don't know, man. I thought the unfortunate event with your father might have given you some insight. The general leaned back in his chair.

Miguel felt his face grow warm with that historical anger. His father's loss was a sore point for his entire family, at least to those who were left. His father had been injured on the quest to find the library with the princess’s grandmother, the queen. More than that, he had been riddle-boned by his injuries. The irony was not lost on Miguel, or--so it seemed--on Buckhead. He cleared the anger from his voice with a light cough, I am not sure what you're wanting me to speak on, sir.

What is she like? Can we start with that?

Miguel knew that look in the general's eye. It meant the older man had come to respect the princess during their first meeting. That respect had grown with the princess's training. Each day Buckhead had found an excuse to be on the training fields just to see if the girl would show for training, or hide like a spoiled highborn. So far, the princess had never let the general down.

I found her to be honest, hardworking, caring of others… Miguel shrugged, not sure what else to add.

I am not seeking a wife, Miguel, Buckhead said with an attempt at humor in his voice. His attempt failed.

Sir, if you are not willing to ask me a direct question, I am not sure how to answer you. She found that blighted library herself. She risked her life to enter it. She did I-don't-know-what to return it to its rightful place--

Buckhead lifted his hand to stop the captain, I understand. You have to forgive me, Captain. I am too old, too set in my ways to throw myself at the feet of another Holiday Royal. Buckhead sighed in a breathy way. The last one was somewhat a disappointment, if you remember.

Miguel leaned forward in his chair, I think, General, that no matter who sits on the throne someone will have something to be dissatisfied about. It is the nature of ruling. However, unlike the queen, unlike all the princesses and queens before her, Princess Lexicon found the library and returned it to the people of Everhope. If that isn't satisfying, I don't think anything will be.

Easy, Captain, Buckhead said, putting a light emphasis on 'Captain.' You didn't see her in the Shadow Dorm. She was like a tiny storm. There was no doubt in her voice. No fear drove her words, though she was obviously terrified. I’ll warrant you that much.

Miguel let the silence draw out as he tried to reason what the general was asking. The princess was strong-willed, morally level, and, above all else, caring. She treated everyone as equals, and in Miguel's opinion this little difference was enormous. He'd known two royals, the queen and now the princess, and knew he was no expert. But the queen had assumed her status, played the role that was expected of her, and looked down at the lesser people. She had done this even when that lesser person was riddle-boned during their service to her and then honor-bound to take his own life to save his family's name.

Nothing? Buckhead asked.

Miguel looked up at the older man, sitting in Miguel's future seat, the man who had raised him as much as his own father. The general's eyes seemed placid and stony, as if the answer to whatever question he was asking would decide some greater thing in his head.

Miguel took a deep breath, straightened his back, and asked, What are you asking me, General?

The general's eyes grew flinty and he exhaled slowly, Is she worthy?

That made nothing clear to Miguel. Worthy of what? Somehow this questioning felt more like an argument than a discussion.

Worthy of my oath, worthy to rule this kingdom, worthy of me and you, of my men. Is she worthy of Everhope?

Miguel lifted his chin slightly, and then in a clipped tone he said, Sir, yes sir. And so much more, sir.

Buckhead visibly relaxed in his chair. You know I trust you, right?

Thank you, sir.

You are sure of your assessment of the girl?

The princess, sir, Miguel corrected. He paused for a moment, letting his bold correction dissipate before continuing, I saw the princess crawl on her hands and knees to a fallen soldier, under the feet of men fighting, to see if she could help him. Help any of them. I had to step around her to keep from tripping, and I was in the blighted front line. She has more courage and brains, at least in my opinion, than most, and she has a lion's heart. He hadn't realized most of how he felt about the princess until he’d spoken it, and the love he denied himself suddenly swelled full within him. I would follow her anywhere.

Buckhead smiled, I think that's good enough for me, Captain.

Miguel was relieved that the conversation was ending. The emotions rolling through him made him feel somewhat unstable and at risk of embarrassing himself, or possibly growing violent. He stood without leave and said, Thank you, General, in a shaky voice and turned to go.

Sleep well, Captain. You've earned the rest.

Miguel didn't say anything as he passed through the door.

CHAPTER 3 - Displacement

It seemed no matter what, Milk was always afraid. She just never really noticed. As far back as she could remember there had always been some mortal thing to worry about. Traveling with a band of bards and thieves, she had always been afraid they would be arrested and hanged. In the Shadow Dorm, she had thought she was dead or would be once she turned sixteen. She had expected the rest of her life to be spent in the confines of one of the dark cells deep beneath the Dorm. When she challenged the Shadow and won her right to join the Dorm, she spent the remainder of her life terrified of her brothers and sisters, of the kingdom’s civil guards, and of being caught in her new role as a thief, then as an assassin. Fear had become such a constant companion that she never actually knew how afraid she was. That was, until now.

All of the old fears were there, just like before, but now she wasn't anybody. That was not entirely unfamiliar to the one-time assassin. Before, she had been at least an assassin and member of the Shadow Dorm. Now she was what? A friend to the princess? A lurker in the castle? Either way, Milk had lost her entire sense of identity and it concerned her. Not in the same way as the entire Shadow Dorm seeking her death, but in a ‘who-am-I’ way. Before, she was a girl with no family other than the Shadow. Now, she wasn't even that.

The sun was making the roof of the princess's tower hot and her skin had begun to feel drawn tight against her bones. She and the sun were still newly acquainted, and the wholesome intensity could actually cause burns on those not familiar, and not paying attention. Milk rolled to the eaves and slid from the roof. She hooked a foot on the sill of a window, one attached to the princess's receiving chambers, and settled there like a slender pigeon.

Inside, she could see the princess idling away and looking rather impatient. Milk couldn't understand how a girl with such power, with such freedom could be bored, but there she was. Across from the princess, Maybell sat focused on a pair of knitting needles, drawing tight little circles in the air. The older woman hummed a tune so soft that Milk doubted the princess could hear it through her angst.

When a sudden knock came at the door, the two in the room shifted immediately. Maybell abandoned her knitting and rose to get the door. Lexicon sat up straight and smoothed her rich-lady gown, becoming both prim and proper. Their movements reminded Milk of a scene change on stage while the curtain was drawn. Actors would shift and take their positions for their new roles as false scenery moved around behind them or was replaced for the next act. When she traveled with her first adopted father--her only adopted father--they set up a stage at each village. Milk was too small to help then. All she did was stay out of the way and watch the magic of the traveling bards unfolding from the wagons. The memory of it drew a line of regret through her and she blinked a few times to clear her vision.

Princess, the general seeks an audience, Maybell announced in a theatrical voice.

Yes, please, Lexi said and rose from her seated position. Milk recognized this as a director's choreography. Each step, each motion was planned and practiced. How these people could live with such predictability, such orchestrated lives, Milk couldn't reason. Being actors on someone else's stage was just not living. It made life an act, and that made her eyebrows furrow over her nose.

General Buckhead, please come and sit, Lexi said, flourishing an arm over the small couch.

Well, thank you, Princess, the older man said and settled himself on the soft couch. Milk could tell the man was somewhat uncomfortable, either because of the princess or the extravagant couch.

Lexi sat across from him, Would you like some brew, General, or perhaps some spring wine?

Brew would be good, thank you Princess, Buckhead said, with a nervous smile.

Maybell rose and began measuring out two cups of brew with cream and sugar.

Of what service can I be this morning? Lexicon asked, still using that actor-on-stage voice.

Your Highness, I've come to report on the troll uprising to the north, Buckhead said, a chill entering his voice.

Maybell offered the princess a cup of brew, then the general.

I thought that was something we didn't need to worry about, Lexi said, then sipped at her brew.

It wasn't, Princess, at first. But things have changed somewhat. Enough that it is time to bring you news of it. The general gave Maybell an oblique look, then returned his gaze to the princess.

Go on, Lexi said.

The general nodded, as if confirming a decision, The invasion seemed to break, Princess, and the trolls fled back toward the west. Captain Livitt, Commander of the fourth and fifth battalions, set a parameter and began building earthworks, but after a week, there were no more attacks. He rightfully thought that the trolls had turned tail and run back to their swamps and mountains. The general cleared his throat uncomfortably.

Milk slid through the window and eased into a tall chair near the sill, behind and to one side of Maybell.

What is it, General? Lexi asked, placing her brew on the small table to her right.

They returned, Princess. They returned with siege engines and, well, something the trolls have never come to the battlefield with before, organization.

Lexi blinked at the man for a few moments before saying, Organization?

Trolls, Princess, are not the brightest creatures and they usually fight like they hunt, in disorganized packs. This time they came in ranks, marching in columns, and shielding their lines. They attacked the battalions and almost pushed through.

Lexi's eyes shot from the general to Maybell then back to the general, What does this mean?

The general looked at the floor for a moment, It means, Princess, that we are not fighting a pack of wild animals but an organized, if ill equipped, enemy. It also means I have dispatched the third and sixth battalions to lend aid.

Lexi looked shocked, stunned really, and just stared at the general for a long moment. Then, in a tiny voice she asked, How many battalions do we have, general?

The general seemed to come back to himself, We have twenty standing, Highness, and four auxiliary.

And twenty percent of them are fighting off the trolls, Lexi said in a thoughtful way, as if she were trying to reason some math in her head.

That's correct. We have fortresses to the north, south, east, and west, and keep two battalions at each post. Two battalions police the city here and four more battalions are split among outlying villages and ports as policing forces. Two battalions serve as guards on the trade roads, two provide security here on the walls around the palace, one battalion acts as a forward patrol around the capital, sweeping and roving constantly, and the last is given liberty. They all trade positions once a month.

By the look on Lexi's face, Milk could tell Buckhead had just given her way too much information.

Lexi leaned back in her own couch, "All right. Where is our greatest threat