Maelnar trailed off as he caught sight of Shardwyn. The wizard was rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet, practically bursting at the seams.
“Alright Shardwyn, what is it? I can see you have something to add.”
“It’s a nixie!”
“A what?”
“A nixie!”
Maelnar shot a glance at Tristofer, who shrugged. “I’m not familiar with that word.”
“A nixie is a water sprite, my dear fellow. How can you not know what a nixie is?”
“There aren’t many subterranean lakes, wizard. Perhaps you have noticed? Besides, haven’t the water sprites been extinct for centuries?”
Shardwyn nodded. “I’m aware. Terrible shame. They were a very friendly species. Too trusting, I’m afraid, which is what led to their downfall.”
“I’d say this confirms the spell which put that mark on my son was cast many years ago,” Venk decided.
Ignoring him, Maelnar turned back to the wizard. “When they were alive, what was their native habitat? And if you tell me ‘water’ I will personally dispose of everything presently cluttering up my desk.”
“Only the purest freshwater lakes, like the ones you would find nestled in the thick of a forest.”
“Which forest?” Athos asked.
Shardwyn shrugged. “Any forest.”
“That’s just great. Where do we start? What exactly are we looking for?”
“Do you have a map of Anakash Forest?” Shardwyn asked Maelnar.
Tristofer patted several of his pockets before he produced a rolled tube of paper from inside his jacket. He unfurled the map and placed several of Shardwyn’s bottles on each corner to prevent the map from rolling back up.
“Been holding on to this for a while,” the scholar admitted. “Not sure why.”
Shardwyn tapped a small lake southwest of the river village of Donlari. The lake was surrounded on all sides by leagues of forest.
“I would start here at Lake Alpin, master dwarf. This is the largest freshwater lake in the area and was their last known location.”
“Last known location?” Athos sputtered. “Of the nixies? Why the ruddy hell did you not say so before?”
The wizard sniffed disdainfully. “No one asked.”
“Do we even know what we are looking for?” Athos asked the room, annoyance written all over his face. “The last thing I want to do is trek halfway across Lentari without any real indication of what we’re supposed to be doing. Let’s say we find this insignificant body of water. Then what?”
“Have no fear,” Tristofer reassured him. “The mark is our guide.”
Athos stared at the scholar. “Our? This is a family affair. We will deal with this.”
Athos’ resentment bounced harmlessly off the scholar’s chest. “Aye. Our. Who better to interpret a Narian mark than a Narian scholar? Trust me, there are no better scholars suited for this journey. Besides, it’ll be fun!”
Athos placed himself directly in the scholar’s path and crossed his arms over his chest. “Fine. Tell me this, scholar. You said that mark is the start of a quest. A quest to find what?”
Tristofer regarded Athos with an expression he typically reserved for dealing with mentally challenged individuals.