"Can't let you do that for too long." His laughter echoed throughout the room, and my cheeks burned as I realized I'd let myself slip into some kind of trance. "We gods tend to have a hypnotic effect on humans. Probably has something to do with the fact that we created you and can bend you to our will."
"But only in person, apparently," I called back sarcastically. "Maybe you guys should consider visiting more often if you don't want us running amuck and getting into trouble."
Caor didn't answer that, but he didn't have to. I knew his reply would be something along the lines of "but where's the fun in that?" and now that I'd spent enough time around him, I was starting to understand it. The gods created us for entertainment. They would nudge things here and there and occasionally respond to our requests and offerings, but for the most part they wanted to sit back and watch us do the work. If they interfered too much, they'd be investing too much of themselves into our lives. They would become responsible.
And now that the gods were holding a grudge against humanity, the only time they would step in was to save their own hides.
I finished sharpening my knives, then went down to the fields to spend some time with Lessie. She was out there with the other dragons, sunning herself, but she lifted her great head as I approached, her fiery eyes lighting up.
Sighing, I laid my cheek against hers, letting her warmth soak into me.
"Is everything okay?" she asked, sensing my distress.
"I'm just tired." Which was perfectly true. I was so damn tired. Of the war, of Salcombe, of the dragon god, of everything. But I didn't want to tell her about Caor's visit, not yet. That would be a conversation for tomorrow, when everyone was present.
"Well, the only cure for tiredness is a good nap," Lessie declared. Lying back down in the grass, she used one of her clawed hands to gently pull me in against her belly. "Relax, Zara. There will be plenty of time to stress about things tomorrow. This time is for preparing, for gathering our energy so we can barbecue Zallabarians tomorrow."
I laughed, snuggling against Lessie's side. "One barbecue, coming right up." Maybe, on our way in, we would raid a few camps tomorrow after all. The more chaos we could stir up, the better.
8
The next morning, we left with the dawn, the golden pink haze brightening the horizon as we flew east, heading toward the mainland. As we traveled, I told Tavarian, Rhia, Halldor, and the dragons about Caor's visit, and the dire news he'd brought.
"Are you serious?" Halldor yelled, and I winced as his too-loud voice stabbed into my ear via the magical earpieces we used to communicate. "Sorry," he said, correctly reading the look of pain on my face. "I didn't mean to shout. But dragon's balls, this is too much. I thought we'd put this dragon-god thing behind us!"
"There's always something," Rhia said, a little forlornly. But when I glanced at her, she straightened her shoulders. "Still, Zara, we've survived everything Salcombe and the dragon god have thrown at us so far. We're not going to let him get to us now that we're so close to ending this war."
"I wish Caor had been able to tell us more," Tavarian said, his brow furrowed in frustration. "But without knowing exactly where Salcombe is and who these allies are, there really isn't anything we can do. Especially if he isn't in Elantia. We simply don't have enough time or resources to go after him while also taking out the autocrator."
"True." I bit my lip, thinking more about Caor's warning. "I guess it's not like we have to go after him right now. He can't recruit masses of followers overnight to worship the dragon god and help him manifest."
"Who would be stupid enough to worship a god like Zakyiar anyway?" Halldor wondered aloud. "Salcombe and his acolytes would have to lie about his true nature. No one would support a god if they knew his sole purpose for being here was to devour their world."
"Merely bending the truth would be sufficient," Tavarian pointed out. "Just as Salcombe believes he is exempt from the dragon god's greed, so do his acolytes. Besides, people have had a fascination with death and chaos since the beginning of time. There are primitive cultures out there whose entire societies are built around worshipping death gods. Not to mention others who are resentful of bigger nations like Elantia and Zallabar and who are willing to embrace any sort of perverted gospel if it means bringing down their enemies."
A heavy silence fell over us as the others contemplated this possibility. "Well, at least we don't have to worry about the dragon god attacking us in our dreams anymore," I said, trying to dispel the grim mood.
"True,” Rhia said with a shudder. “It was pretty awful, the way he was constantly accosting us in our nightmares."
Our discussion turned toward Rhia and Halldor's upcoming mission—tomorrow, they would be splitting off from us, heading east toward the munitions depot. "I wish that we could do something like that too," Lessie groused. "It doesn't seem fair that they get to engage the enemy while we're stuck hiding outside the capital waiting for you and Tavarian."
"Perhaps there is a mission that we might be able to complete as well?" Serpol suggested.
"Actually, there is a large munitions depot in the main military camp outside the capital," Rhia said. "You, Muza, and Serpol could destroy it. The fewer weapons the enemy has access to, the better chance we have when our army finally attacks."
"I like that idea," Lessie said to me, perking up.
"You'll have to be careful," I warned. "You should scout the place first, get as much intel as you can before you do anything."
"Of course," Serpol said. "We'll do so at night, and I'll use my magic to shield us so we can approach undetected."
We camped together that night in the forest, and the next morning, Rhia and Halldor took off. Tavarian and I continued on, with Serpol flying alongside us. The clouds were fairly thick, and the air frigid, and I was forced to put on extra layers over my dragon-rider armor, even with Lessie's warmth.
"I'll be glad when we arrive," she said, shivering a little. "This is cold even for me."
As we drew closer to Zuar City and our impending mission, I started to wonder if we were doing the right thing. I felt a little odd about the idea of killing the autocrator--I'd met him in person at a party in the Zallabarian capital, and he’d been quite likable, even humble.
"Yes, but he is still the enemy," Tavarian said when I voiced the thought aloud. "How many dragons and men, both Elantian and Zallabarian, have died to satisfy his ambition? How many more will die still if he isn’t stopped?"
"You're right." I sighed, scraping a hand through my curls. "It's just...is it dishonorable, killing him this way? With no chance at all to fight back?" I was being silly, I knew--I'd never fought fair in my life. But although I’d killed in battle, in self-defense, and to protect my loved ones, I'd never killed someone in cold blood like this.
"Not at all," Tavarian said. "He is not a civilian, and it isn't as if there ever will be an opportunity to meet him on the battlefield. The autocrator has tens of thousands of men to do the fighting for him; he would never engage directly. Besides, even getting to him is going to be quite a challenge. The risk of us being caught and killed is very high."
"A risk that is well worth it," Lessie put in. "If these warmonger politicians were killed more often, rather than being allowed to hide behind the shield of their soldiers, they might think twice before starting wars of aggression."
"Have you ever used magic to kill anyone before?" I asked Tavarian. We had already agreed beforehand that we wouldn’t use a weapon--it would be too easy to get caught, and we'd have to get too close for comfort. Instead, we would use a death spell, one Tavarian had learned during his time in Warosia.
"Apart from the horn, no," Tavarian admitted. "While I know the death spell in theory, I haven't used it on a human before. To be honest, I am not even certain what kind of range it has."
Muza snorted at that.
"We can't go into the capital without knowing the limitations of the spell," Lessie protested. "He is going to have to practice bef
ore then."
We flew for a few more hours before finally landing in a thickly wooded forest just outside the underground palace I’d discovered years ago on a treasure hunt. The dragons would drop us off at the capital the next day, then scout the encampment. They had agreed to hide out in the underground palace when they weren't doing reconnaissance and not to attack without telling us what they'd found first.
We set up camp inside the palace, in the great hall I'd discovered the first time I found this place. "This is a great hideout," Tavarian said, craning his neck to look around. Statues set into arched recesses looked down on us from their stern noses as we ate on the dirty marble floor, our campfire casting harsh shadows on their alabaster faces. "We can light fires down here without giving away our position.”
"Exactly." I leaned against Lessie, who was curled up behind me. Muza was on Tavarian's other side, while Serpol stood guard, invisible, outside. He would alert us if anyone approached.
My treasure sense pinged continuously as I ate, and even though I'd turned down the volume, it still nagged at me. "There are so many amazing artifacts here," I said, sighing wistfully. "Ones that I haven't been able to carry off because they're just too heavy."
"We'll come back after we win the war," Tavarian promised. He chewed thoughtfully on a piece of apple, the firelight dancing in his mercurial eyes as he stared at me. "Is your plan to go back to treasure hunting after things settle down?”
"I'd like to," I admitted. The thought of things returning to the way they were, of running the shop with Carina, of exploring the world and excavating long-forgotten sites for treasure, sounded like a dream come true.
But could things really go back to the way they were? I wasn't the same old treasure hunter--I had a dragon in my life now, not to mention a fiancé, and I was one of the leaders of a rag-tag army. I'd never enjoy the same anonymity I once had as an orphan turned treasure hunter, a ground dweller who'd never been of notice or importance to anyone. Would I be expected to help run things? Certainly I wanted to make sure the new government we established was one that was just and fair for all, but what about after that? Would I sit on the council? How much of my time would that take up?
Tavarian seemed to read my thoughts, for he placed his hand over mine. "We'll make time for your treasure hunting," he said softly. "No matter what."
A lump swelled in my throat. "Thank you." I knew it was silly, this attachment to an occupation that was so dangerous, but I couldn't help it. Treasure hunting was in my blood; it was as much a part of me as dragon riding.
We sat in silence a while longer, contemplating the future as we ate. We'd nearly finished when Tavarian pointed at one of the statues on the wall. "Say, isn't that Caor?"
My head shot up, and I stared in the direction Tavarian had pointed. Sure enough, the statue staring back at me was a larger-than-life replica of the messenger god, complete with his messenger bag, kilt, winged sandals, and trademark grin. Horns curved over his long hair, but aside from that, the depiction was startlingly faithful.
"Actually," Caor said from behind me, "I do sometimes show the horns."
I twisted to see him standing just in the shadows, his grin glinting in the dark. He stepped into view, and my mouth dropped open at the sight of the curling ram horns, each one twice as thick as my fist. "They're a bit heavy though, so I usually do without. Gives me headaches sometimes."
"I can imagine," I said dryly.
Caor snapped his fingers, and the horns disappeared. He sat down right next to Tavarian, who seemed a little startled, and grinned at him. "Nice to see you again. You know, I never got to tell you this, but you look a bit like the champion we sent to defend humanity all those years ago."
"I do?" Tavarian was taken aback.
Caor nodded. "It's mostly in the eyes." He peered into Tavarian's face. "Those silvery irises you got. Rare color, you know, and back then children born with those eyes were considered messengers of the gods. But there's something about your jawline, too, and the way you carry yourself."
"I suppose I'll take that as a compliment," Tavarian said in a strangled voice.
I hid a grin as I watched them, secretly enjoying seeing Tavarian thrown so off balance. I'd never seen him this flustered before, and I was delighted to know he wasn't always so perfect. "If Tavarian has messenger eyes, then why was I chosen as the champion instead?" I butted in.
Caor glanced at me with a shrug. "Guess the others figured we should try a different bloodline. Though it's not like your beloved here hasn't played his part." He gave Tavarian a sly look that made me nervous.
"Are you going to tell us what you came here for?" I asked as Caor plucked an apple from our bag of reserves. "Or are you just here to eat our food?"
"What, a god can't come hang out with his favorite mortal?" Caor sounded wounded, though he ruined the effect somewhat by biting into the apple with a loud crunch. "Now that you mention it, though, I did want to warn you that Salcombe and the dragon god have been communing quite a bit. They're definitely planning something."
My meal soured in my stomach. "Is he coming to Zuar City?"
"Maybe. But he's not anywhere near the capital right now."
I let out a sigh of relief.
“Good,” Tavarian said. "If he’s not nearby then he won't interfere with our plans.”
"I wouldn't be so sure of that," Caor warned. "Salcombe might not do anything directly, but he has acolytes in the city who worship the dragon god. Zakyiar is devious and extremely motivated right now. Be on your guard.”
He vanished, taking the apple with him.
"Wonderful," I sighed, pitching the remnants of my own apple into the fire. "Another thing to worry about."
"There is always something to worry about," Tavarian pointed out. "But try not to worry too much, Zara. It does no good, and we need to focus on the mission.”
"True." I wiped my hands and stood up. "Let's go up top and test this spell of yours out. Does it work on plants and animals?"
"On anything living," Tavarian confirmed. He pulled a small notebook from his pocket and riffled through it. "I have all the spells I learned written down here."
I got to my feet, then went over and grasped the thick rope we’d left dangling from the hole in the ceiling. “Serpol, a little help?” I called.
I heard a rumble of movement as Serpol grasped the rope, then gently lifted me out of the hole. A wave of vertigo swept through me as I briefly dangled high in the air before being deposited on the ground. I watched as Serpol pulled Tavarian up as well, a little amused as he floated into the air and then on the ground—since Serpol was still invisible, it looked as though Tavarian had flown out of the hole of his own accord.
“Thank you.” Tavarian patted Serpol’s hide, then opened up his notebook. He briefly reviewed the spell, and then we moved into the woods, well away from the dragons.
"Let's try plants first," I suggested. "How about that bush over there?" I pointed to a shrub a few feet away.
Tavarian nodded, his expression grim. He raised his hands, chanting quietly in a strange, guttural language. A sudden wind picked up, and power crackled in the air, solidifying around his hands like purple lightning. His face tightened with concentration as he fought to control the energy, and then he pointed at the bush with his left hand.
A stream of energy shot out of the tip of his finger and into the bush. The effect was instantaneous: the bush briefly lit up, then withered, the leaves falling away and disintegrating to ash, the branches curling and twisting until they were dead, dried out husks. The stiff wind blew it all away, scattering the ashes across the forest, leaving not so much as a single root behind.
In the span of a few seconds, the bush ceased to be.
"Damn." I stared at the spot where the shrub had been, my skin clammy. "That was...very final. Is that what's going to happen to the autocrator? He’ll turn into a pile of dust and disappear?"
"Essentially, yes," Tavarian said. "I practiced on a few rats t
he first time I did this, so I've seen the effect before." He gave me a sidelong look. "It was quite unsettling for me, too."
So I wasn't the only one creeped out. "Let's see exactly how much range and finesse we've got with this thing."
Tavarian and I spent an hour practicing using larger and smaller targets and varying the distances. We discovered he could shoot the spell accurately up to fifty yards, and could also target small and large life forms. We tried hitting a small tree branch once, just to see if he could kill only the branch, but the entire tree withered and died on the spot. The reality of how dangerous this spell was chilled me to the bone. If it even grazed your pinky finger, you'd be dead.
Tavarian wiped at the sheen of sweat on his face and leaned against a tree trunk. "Okay," he said, sliding to the ground. "I need a break."
"That one took a lot out of you, huh?" I said, offering him a piece of jerky. Each time he performed the spell, he grew more tired, and the larger the object, the more draining it was.
He nodded, gratefully accepting the snack. "That tree was quite large, so yes."
We were just about to get up when something rustled in the distance, followed by a threatening snort.
"A boar," Tavarian breathed, going still.
A pair of large tusks poked out from behind a bush, and the animal pushed its way through the undergrowth, pawing at the ground.
"Shit." I drew my dragon blade, prepared to gore the animal. What was it with boars and me? This was the second time I'd been attacked by one in as many weeks!
The boar charged, but before it could make it even a few feet, Tavarian blasted it with the death spell. The boar disintegrated mid-run, its ashes blowing everywhere, and I threw a hand up over my face, coughing as I accidentally inhaled some. It tasted awful, bitter and thick and grainy on my tongue, and I sputtered, reaching for the water flask at my hip.
"That's it." Tavarian panted, looking paler than usual, his eyelids heavy. He leaned his head against the tree trunk. "I am done for the night."
Secret of the Dragon Page 7
