Nicodemus started to object, but then he saw Shannon. The old man stood just behind the goddess, holding Azure. The grand wizard was shaking his head.
“Very well,” said Nicodemus, and bowed again to Amadi. “Thank you, Magistra.”
The sentinel’s dour gaze softened. She pointed out into the night. “I can see more spellwriting. The other wizards will be here soon.”
Nicodemus saw golden light in the Spindle’s remains. The sentinel was right.
“It is time to be gone,” the goddess announced. “Nicodemus, you must carry what is left of my ark.” She gestured farther into the mountain.
Nicodemus saw that the formerly massive standing stone had crumbled. Most of it had become dust, but a single chunk of rock, not bigger than a cat, remained. He went to the now miniature ark and lifted it into his arms. Three undulating lines were carved down its length.
When Boann spoke again her voice became soft, almost sing-song. “Come, Nicodemus, Shannon, we travel into the mountains, into the kobold caves. I know the way to a private haven. There we shall heal and make ready to rescue Deirdre and recover the emerald.”
“But where can we go?” asked Nicodemus. “The wizards will search the caves regardless of what Magistra tells them.”
The river goddess smiled. “Where else can we go,” she asked, raising one eyebrow, “but to Heaven Tree Valley?”
CHAPTER
Forty-six
The party walked through most of the night. The labyrinthine kobold caverns stretched before them. Some were adorned with luminescent blue lichen. Others housed pools of water that reflected the light of Shannon’s flamefly spells.
They stopped in a round cavern near the surface. A fissure in the ceiling revealed a sliver of starry sky. Thick moss made a bed for the weary spellwrights, but Nicodemus’s sleep brought only nightmares of Deirdre convulsing as Typhon watched.
In the late morning, they pressed on. Nicodemus argued that they should chase after Deirdre as soon as possible.
At first his words met silence. Then Boann explained why they could not. She was weak and would not grow stronger until reunited with Deirdre. Shannon still suffered from their encounter with Fellwroth; there was no telling how his body would react to the cankers still seeded in his gut.
“And you, Nicodemus, are healthy but unprepared,” the goddess explained. “We must heal and build our forces. You must train and study.”
“But for how long?” he asked.
“As long as is needed,” the goddess replied.
Shannon agreed. “Patience is necessary. Think of the emerald. By touching you, the gem regained its full strength. With it, Typhon would be powerful beyond our comprehension. But after four years away from you, the gem will lose its power. If we remain hidden long enough, we deprive Typhon of his most powerful weapon.”
Nicodemus objected. “But he might start another dragon spell.”
Shannon replied. “There’s no ‘might’ about it. He will begin another dragon, but he won’t complete the wyrm. As he said when trying to woo you, he needs seven or eight years with the replenished emerald. So long as we hide from him, he will only have four.”
Sighing deeply, Nicodemus let himself be convinced.
Three more days of walking passed. They lived off spring water and mushrooms Boann showed them how to find. Twice the goddess led them up to the surface. Shannon cast Magnus traps to pull trout from the streams.Boann and Nicodemus searched the sparse alpine forests for autumnal nuts and berries.
Each night they sat around a campfire, but they never found much to say. Nicodemus stole into the dark to study the magical languages of the Chthonics.
Using the Index, he taught himself Pithan. A powerful language, it produced luminous indigo runes that, like Magnus, could affect the physical world. Because of its logical grammar and spelling rules, Nicodemus’s cacography did not impair his ability to spellwrite in Pithan. For that reason he began tattooing wartexts all across his body.
Most nights this work kept him up late, which suited him; his sleep was plagued by bad dreams of Deirdre or Devin.
Often he woke with a pain in his chest. It felt as if his beating heart were wrapped in stiff leather. At such times he closed his eyes and thought of the emerald. Determination and discipline, he decided, were the new guiding stars of his life; they would help him rescue the missing part of himself. Then he could free Deirdre, cure Shannon.
At the beginning of the fifth day, Nicodemus realized that his keloid scars had not cast a Language Prime text to the emerald since he encountered Typhon. When