“More important?” Menos looked curious.
“I was going to ask you once I’d dealt with the enemy. It would mean leaving Currose for a period of time, if you can bear to do so. If she does not need you, that is.”
“You want me to find out what’s happening in the empire, where the legions are? Don’t you?”
“That’s right,” Stiger said. “You can travel faster and farther than the elves can scout, and in a shorter time, too. I need to know where the fighting is, what the enemy is doing. I know nothing of what is going on out in the wider world, what other significant enemy forces are nearby. It might give us the edge in any fighting to come, and as it stands now, I am effectively blind. Would you do that for me, my friend?”
Menos was silent for several heartbeats. He took a sip of his wine before answering.
“It would mean leaving the World Gate undefended,” Menos said. “Currose is not up to it. She is recovering in a deep thermal cavern.”
“Ogg assures me that until the Gate is unlocked with the Key, it can’t be operated again,” Stiger said. “He says there are no other wizards with the required reserves of Will to even attempt opening it to a different time. I think the risk of leaving only the dwarven garrison in place more than worth it. So, will you do as I ask?”
Menos was silent for several heartbeats as he seemed to consider the request. “Though I do not like leaving Currose, I will.”
“Thank you,” Stiger said.
“Do not thank me yet.” Menos’s manner became grave. “There is something you need to know.”
“What?”
“The sertalum,” Menos said and took pull from his wine. The noctalum shook the mug slightly. “You know, this is really good wine.”
“Sertalum? I don’t know that word,” Stiger said.
“The sertalum are the noctalum’s sister race. There has long been one residing on this world. She is the enemy of my people.”
“Of course she is.” Stiger rubbed the back of his neck in frustration. “You did not think to mention this before now?”
“There was no need. She has been in hiding, waiting and watching,” Menos said. “In truth, we, Currose and I, have an accommodation with her.”
“You do?” Stiger was surprised by that. “What sort of an accommodation?”
“She does not bother us or interfere in what we do,” Menos said, “and we don’t hunt her down and kill her.”
“And this sertalum is working with the Cyphan Confederacy?”
Menos shifted in his chair. “I am not sure.”
“Then what is the problem?”
“Tixanu has left her lair,” Menos said. “She is far to the west, well beyond the Great Steppe. She is on the move, traveling northward. Where she is going and why, I know not. I can sense her, just as she can sense us.”
Stiger felt a cold sensation slither down his spine. “When you mean us, you mean you and Currose?”
“I mean all of us,” Menos said. “Those with the Will to use it. You, me, Currose, Ogg to name a few. It was she whom your fool scout touched when he projected in the Gate room.”
“Great,” Stiger said. “Did Marcus wake her?”
“No, he did not. She’s always been awake, watching, like us.”
“In hindsight,” Stiger said, “with all that’s going on, don’t you think it would have been better had you killed her when you had the chance?”
“Such an attempt would not have been so easy,” Menos admitted. “The danger is truly great. In the process of taking her down, it could have seen the killing or maiming of me and my mate. It is why the sertalum and noctalum have historically avoided direct conflict. Such a thing might have been worse than blowing the top off that volcano. And you know how bad that was.”
Stiger did not like that, not one bit.
“I take it you are telling me this for a reason?”
“Thoggle always thought you were limited,” Menos said as he sipped at his wine. “I, on the other hand, thought you had some intelligence. It now seems that I was proven correct.”
“Don’t you think that’s a little uncharitable?” Stiger said. “Unfair of you?”
“Unfair?” Menos shot Stiger a scowl. “Whatever do you mean? I was giving you a compliment.”
“Thoggle is long dead,” Stiger said. “You can no longer win arguments against him.”
“Of course I can.” Menos drained the last of his wine. He stood and barked out a harsh laugh. “I get the last word. I can win every argument now.”
Stiger shook his head. “You will warn me if this Tixanu comes after us?”
“Now, sadly, I think I might have to reassess your intelligence level.” Menos set the empty mug of wine on the table, next to the jar.
“Oh?”
“If I’m away scouting, how can I possibly tell you what she is up to or, more importantly, come to your aid? You can’t have it both ways. Either I go or I stay. If I go, you may have to deal with her on your own, at least until I can return.”
“That is just fantastic news, Menos,” Stiger said, feeling intense frustration. “How do I deal with such a creature?”
“You do have a wizard available, and you are the High Father’s Champion.” Menos gave a shrug of his shoulders. “Figure it out.”
“Figure it out?” Stiger asked.
“Then again, she might not be a bother,” Menos said. “Tixanu is a powerful being in her own right. She may have her own purposes for leaving her lair.”
“So, you are thinking it a coincidence? Are you seriously telling me that?”
“We don’t know what her purpose is, yet,” Menos said, “but no, I do not believe it a coincidence. She will involve herself in events, in some way or manner at some point. It might be she simply wants to get off this world herself or…”
“She might be working with the Cyphan,” Stiger finished. “You always bring me the best news. You know that, right?”
Menos turned to leave, then stopped. He looked over at the sword, leaning against the wall next to the fireplace.
“It hasn’t spoken to you?” Menos asked. “The sword…”
“It has not,” Stiger confirmed. “I fear the wizard is now gone, the sword’s power too. I sense nothing from it.”
“Maybe, maybe not.” Menos regarded the sword for another long moment before turning back. “Remember what I taught in the guarding of your mind. You must always be vigilant, prepared for another attempt by the wizard. Only time will tell if Rarokan is truly dead. We can both hope he is, but sometimes hope isn’t enough. It is best to not underestimate any wizard, particularly a High Master.”
Stiger gave a nod of agreement, then changed the subject. “I have a question for you. Perhaps you can help me with it?”
Menos raised delicate eyebrow. “If I am able, I will.”
“Taha’Leeth told me I have changed,” Stiger said. “She said I returned to this time more than I was… What exactly did she mean by that? I’ve felt a change…but…it could be just unlocking the potential within and accepting the mantle of Champion, my connection to the High Father.”
Menos’s gaze became piercing, and Stiger trailed off. The noctalum took a step closer and reached out a hand toward Stiger’s face. Dog picked up his head and growled, a deep, menacing sound that made the small hairs on the back of Stiger’s neck stand on end. Menos paused, looking over at Dog. He slowly withdrew his hand.
“Dog, down,” Stiger said, surprised by both of their reactions. Dog immediately ceased his growling and lay back down, but the animal’s gaze remained fixed upon the noctalum.
“I will not harm him,” Menos assured Dog, then looked back to Stiger. “I had not considered the possibility of such a change. I will not attempt to probe your mind, for with the training I gave you, it would be difficult for me to do so. Perhaps even impossible, without destroying your mind in the process. I ask only that you permit me to touch your soul, your life force, the spark within. No harm or change wil
l come of it. On that, you have my word.”
“My soul?” Stiger asked suspiciously. “My spark? Why would you want that?”
Then, he suddenly became alarmed and stiffened, his eyes going toward the sword. Was that the reason the sword was no longer speaking to him? Had Rarokan’s life force merged with his own? Oh, great gods, how he hoped not. Yet, in a way it all made sense. Had Rarokan inadvertently gotten what he had wanted, desired so badly? Was that long-dead wizard now a part Stiger’s life force, his soul?
“Do you think I am Rarokan?” Stiger asked. “That…he is part of my soul, joined with me?”
“Why would you think that?” Menos asked, eyebrows drawing together. “Ah, I see…you drew that conclusion based off what happened when he attempted to seize control of your body. No, I do not believe a merging was ever possible. It was an all-or-nothing sort of thing. He would have taken your body and you would have been imprisoned within the sword.”
Stiger let out a relieved breath and relaxed a little. “Then what is it?”
“I think, and it is only one possibility,” Menos said, hesitantly, “that when you killed the wyrm with the sword, something of its essence, its spark, was absorbed by you.” Menos shook a finger at him. “Perhaps even a part of the life force of all the beings Rarokan stole over the centuries, with the wyrm’s portion being the mightiest. That may have been what passed on to you, merging with your soul, adding to your life force, your spark, if you will.”
“How is that possible?” Stiger was concerned that he had some evil in him now, for wyrms were dark creatures that served vile gods. He was horrified by even the possibility. “Am I contaminated?”
“Of course not.” Menos waved a hand, as if to dismiss the idea. “This is something very different. It has nothing to do with corruption.”
“How so?”
“The aratalum, the wyrms, are ancient beings. They are almost as old as my race. Though no more intelligent than a horse and easily controlled, they are still powerful creatures. Their spark is quite strong. As such, they have very long lifespans, almost as long as their cousins, the taltalum.”
“Taltalum? Another race of dragons?”
Menos scowled slightly. “A simple way of looking at it, but not an entirely incorrect one.”
Stiger wondered how many different types of dragons were out there.
“Are there taltalum on this world?” Stiger had a feeling that there were.
“There are,” Menos confirmed. “They live with the Vass.”
“The Vass? You’re just bringing me all kinds of fantastic news,” Stiger said, wondering what or who the Vass were. “Will they want the Key and the Gate too? Do you save up all the bad news and then ration it out when you want to?”
“Not to fear,” Menos said, holding up a hand. “The taltalum will not work with our enemies.”
“Are you certain?” Stiger asked.
“Fairly certain.” Menos gave a shrug of his shoulders. “They should not interfere with us. They live across the Eastern Ocean.”
“There is land across the ocean?”
“Ignorant human,” Menos scoffed. “How little you know of your own world. Did you think it was all ocean? There are lands almost as vast as those on this side of the world.” Menos paused. “One day, when there is time and this business is all behind us, I might take you there, just to show you and help you expand your mind. Perhaps then you will understand how truly large a single world can be.”
“So, they won’t bother us, then,” Stiger said, shaking his head slightly at the thought of unknown lands.
“I said they won’t work with our enemies,” Menos said. “The Vass and taltalum will do their own thing. Though I believe they will not interfere or, more correctly, should not. The Vass sought this world as a refuge from the Last War. But sometimes there is no telling with them, or reasoning. They do their own thing for reasons wholly their own. Sometimes it’s not easy to figure out what those reasons are. When we fled Tanis, they worked with us. So, I think the likelihood of them working to counter our purposes small.”
“They were allies at one time, then?”
“Of a sort,” Menos said. “As I said, the Vass do their own thing.”
“Do you think they might help us?”
“That,” Menos said, “I do not know. To even reach them would require weeks of travel. The journey would be a long one, and dangerous too. I would not want to make it alone. And the Vass might not welcome me. They left…shall we say…unhappy with Currose and me...deeply unhappy.”
Stiger shook his head in disbelief and then pushed his concerns about the Vass and more dragons aside. He had enough problems as it was. He turned his thinking to how he’d been changed. Stiger needed answers on that. He looked back at Menos after several heartbeats. “What about the wyrm’s essence, the spark? Wouldn’t it have left me, as I was dying? Before Father Thomas brought me back? Everything, it seemed, was being sucked out of me. Castor’s pull was just too strong.”
“When Father Thomas brought you back from the edge,” Menos said, “he brought all of you back, not just some.” Menos looked down at his hand and then back to Stiger. His eyes narrowed. “I will not hurt, nor harm, you. But I must be sure of my suspicions. May I proceed?”
Stiger glanced over at Dog, who was still staring intently at Menos. The animal had not relaxed and looked ready to jump to the attack.
“We are friends, yes?” Menos asked Stiger.
“We are friends.”
“Then trust me in this,” Menos said. “Noctalum have always been a curious race. Before the Last War, we sought only knowledge and the betterment of our people. That curiosity still burns through me like a raging fire. I have a suspicion that something profound is at work here, with you. Please, I ask you again to trust me in this. I must know.”
The last sounded almost like pleading. Stiger hesitated a moment more, then gave a reluctant nod.
Menos looked over at Dog. “I also ask for your trust too, naverum. Do I have your permission to proceed?”
Dog gave a soft whine and then lowered his head to the floor, placing it between his paws. The tension seemed to go out of the animal.
Menos turned back to Stiger. “It will only take but a moment.”
“Do it,” Stiger said, wondering if there would be any pain.
Menos took a hesitant step forward and then another more resolved one, until he was standing directly in front of Stiger’s chair. Oddly, Stiger noticed that the pipe had gone out.
Menos reached forward and touched Stiger’s forehead with the palm of his hand. It wasn’t painful, but he felt a funny tingling, like what he used to feel when he touched the sword. It raced through him and then was gone. A heartbeat later, Menos removed his hand. The noctalum took a stumbling half step backward, eyes almost impossibly wide and fixated directly upon Stiger.
“What is it?” Stiger asked.
Menos did not answer but continued to stare at Stiger with eyes that spoke of intense shock and perhaps even awe.
“What is it?” Stiger asked, becoming alarmed. “Tell me.”
“This has not happened for an age,” Menos said, in a near whisper. The noctalum started to speak, stopped, and started again. “I do not know if it was the gods or your encounter with the wyrm, but the elf is right. Who you were…are…has changed.”
“Changed?” Stiger’s alarm increased to new levels. “Changed how?”
“You are something…how do I put this? You are something new, essentially no longer completely human. New is the only way I can describe it. Your life force has been completely changed, altered. You may be the first of a new race, beings with power and the Will to use it.”
“What?” Stiger almost yelled as he stood, feeling panicked. He could not believe what he was hearing. “I am no longer human? How can that be? I am just as human as the guards outside the door.”
“Not anymore.”
Stiger held both hands up before his face. Nothing abou
t them had changed. He looked the same.
“You are more than you were,” Menos said, shaking his head in disbelief. “I have only seen this once before, during the Age of Wonders. The gods directly intervened. I was honored to witness the creation of a new race, what all thought to be the last of us.”
“I don’t believe it,” Stiger breathed.
“Though we were commanded to leave that world shortly after the deed had been done,” Menos continued, as if he’d not heard Stiger, “it was a wondrous thing to see. To this day, I feel blessed.” The noctalum fell silent a moment and then spoke the next in a whisper. “Now, I have witnessed such a miracle twice.”
Stiger was rocked to his core by what Menos was telling him. He couldn’t believe it. Sure, he felt a little different, but he was still human. Menos must be wrong. It was almost impossible to believe, and yet something deep inside told him it was all true. No matter how much he wanted to disbelieve, the noctalum was not lying. Something within him had changed and was still changing. He could not deny it. He sucked in a shuddering breath and then blew it out, feeling thoroughly ragged and worn.
“How did Taha’Leeth know of this?” Menos’s eyes had narrowed suspiciously.
“I do not know,” Stiger admitted.
Menos took another step back. His hand went to his mouth and he became ashen. He pointed a finger at Stiger. “She has taken you as her mate, hasn’t she?”
It was not a question, but a statement.
“Lover would be more accurate,” Stiger said.
“With elves,” Menos said, “such distinctions are not always so simple. She is bonding with you. The gods must have had a hand in bringing you both together.”
Stiger felt the color drain from his face. He remembered what she’d told him about Tanithe. The god had shown her a vision of him years before Stiger had even been born. Stiger’s eyes went to the sword. Had the High Father and Tanithe been working together toward a common purpose? Had they intended this to happen? They must have.
The Tiger’s Wrath (Chronicles of An Imperial Legionary Officer Book 5) Page 10
