Taniesse said, “It’s a trading post with a couple of huts.”
“Do they have ale?”
“Something a bit stronger than that.”
Boldair’s bushy eyebrows rose. “Aye, sounds good. Drinks need a strong punch!”
Taniesse smiled.
“You think that’s humorous?”
She shook her head. “Never be overeager until you know what it is that you’re drinking.”
His brow furrowed. “Not sure I understand what you’re meaning. Most liquors require fermentation of grains or fruits. Tis no harm there.”
“This trading post sells a great deal of potent herbs, elixirs, and drinks. Their liquor is made from the poisonous vines that quite nearly did you in a few moments ago.”
Boldair winced. “What fools would make their drinks from those deadly vines?”
“From the fermented seed pods. It’s a delicate process.”
“In harvesting the seeds or filtering out the poison?”
“Both.”
“I should say. What fool would drink that?”
“There aren’t that many choices in these woods.”
“I often joke that I’m dying a thirst, but I never thought the quencher could be more deadly.”
She smiled, fondly amused. “Most don’t care if it’s filtrated properly.”
“And if not? The results could be devastating.”
Taniesse shrugged. “Few ever have died.”
“Few? One would be enough!”
“What happened to your sense of adventure?”
“Adventure’s one thing I love almost as much as finding treasure. But, in either case, you ‘ave to be alive to do either one.”
Taniesse nodded. “That’s true. But not to worry. They’ve distilled their brew for hundreds of years. They have the process perfected. ”
“That is somewhat more of a relief. Not exactly enough to win me over though. I can’t help but have that gnawing fear at the back of my mind that I might die after drinking it.”
“I doubt death will come to you in such a manner,” she said, gently stepping over a yellowed vine. They were almost beyond the area she had torched with her fiery breath. Brittle branches and curled leaves crunched underfoot. Puffs of smoke billowed with each step they took.
“That’s good that you think that,” Boldair said.
“Possibly the worst thing you’ll experience is a short termed hallucination.”
“Oh, great. Can’t wait,” Boldair sighed and rolled his eyes. “Of course, when you first revealed who you really were, I sort of thought myself experiencing a delusion then. A major one at that!”
“Be careful where you step,” she said, changing the subject. “We’re out of the singed plants. These plants around us are living and some might be more deadly than the vines.”
“More?” Boldair shook his head. “Are you certain you cannot dragon-fly us out of here?”
“Absolutely not. What I’ve already done as a dragon jeopardizes our hopes for Dawn being crowned queen should any wizard or mage seeking a dragon have a spell hanging in this forest.”
“Why would a sorcerer search for dragons?” he asked.
“For whatever purposes suits them. My kin have nearly been wiped out due to greed from treasure hunters, but even worse are those that seek to use our blood for their spells, our scales for their armor, and our bones for their trophies.”
“Dragon blood for spells?”
“Yes. Or magical potions.”
Boldair stepped delicately over a thick vine on the path that carved through the dark line of trees. His eyes were more critical of where he stepped than when they had first entered. “Does your blood actually hold such properties?”
“Yes. Depending upon the caster’s power, adding the magical blood of a dragon enhances the wizard’s power a dozen fold. Perhaps even more. That’s why dark wizards often offer huge rewards to hire experienced hunters in the underground mercenary markets.”
“Aye. I’ve heard of such rewards, but I’m not a fool. Entire armies seldom take down an angry dragon, much less a solitary greedy moneygrubber.”
Taniesse sighed. “Wizards often supply the explorer with magically enhanced arrows or other weapons to weaken us.”
“Since so many races have hunted and killed your kind, surely you detest them?”
Boldair studied her face.
A sense of loss filled her eyes and her voice, but no hint of hatred rose in her tone as she said, “Not all, but most.”
“Then why do you wish to aid Lady Dawn?”
“We made a pact with King Erik.”
Boldair looked up at her and cocked an eyebrow. “What kind of pact?”
“A blood pact my sisters and I made with King Erik over ten years ago. We agreed to protect one another. He vowed that no Hoffnung knight would ever quest to kill a dragon, and should one do so, that knight would be tortured until dead by fire. In return we’d protect King Eric in the event of war.”
“Then why didn’t you in the Battle of Snowloch?”
Taniesse took in a deep breath and held it. Her moistened eyes flickered with a short red burst as she struggled with what words to reply. There was evident hurt that she couldn’t suppress.
“It’s not that we didn’t offer to aid Erik in the war,” she said in a strained tone. “We did. But since we were hidden in human form throughout Aetheaon, he insisted that we not reveal ourselves in case Hoffnung later needed us in our true form. Agreeing to that is something we still regret.”
“Did you not enter battle in your human form?”
Taniesse shook her head, looking down and watching for vines along the dark path. “We did not. At least not physically.”
Boldair adjusted his ax on his shoulder, careful to follow her footsteps, which forced him to extend his steps farther than he normally would.
“Not sure what ye mean,” he said.
“Our blood pact with King Erik required that he infuse our blood in with his. Because our blood runs through his veins, we can sense and locate him. But not long after the last battle began, we lost him.”
“Because he died?”
She shrugged. “Perhaps, but we don’t rightly know.”
“So he might live?”
Taniesse shook her head. “At this point in time, it’s highly unlikely.”
“How could he simply disappear? From what my father told me, King Erik’s body was never found.”
“Only some kind of magical barrier could have prevented us from locating him. We searched Snowloch from high in the clouds, hoping to sense him, but . . . nothing.”
“Tis sad.”
“It is.”
“Would seem their heritage is cursed,” Boldair said. “First King Erik, and then Queen Taube.”
“They were peace-seekers, which makes me believe that Tyrann is the one responsible for such attacks to remove them from power.”
Boldair’s eyes widened. “The Dark Prince?”
“The same.”
“Any proof to that claim?”
“In theory only, I’m afraid. But who else in all of Aetheaon would poison the mind of someone like Waxxon to kill and dethrone Queen Taube? She was as close to a goddess as a half elf could ever hope to be.”
“Aye,” Boldair replied, nodding. “Only saw her a couple of times from a distance, but she held a peaceful glow about her that no other has possessed.”
“Indeed.”
“So our battle will be against Waxxon, the Vykings, and Tyrann? That be a mighty host to go against.”
“I doubt Tyrann will venture outside of the Black Chasm. Most likely, he’ll send his demons and minions to fight in his stead.”
“You don’t think Tyrann will seek the throne of Hoffnung for himself?”
“Presently? No.”
Boldair scratched his beard as he stepped over a log. His brow furrowed. Deep in thought, he finally said, “Why not?”
“He has his own throne.”
“The Black Chasm?”
“The City of Mortel within the Black Chasm.”
“The city still exists?”
Taniesse nodded. “Definitely. Tyrann has a purpose for assisting Waxxon. Exactly what we do not know.”
“We?”
“My sisters and I.”
“Ahh. Are you and your sisters the last of the dragons? Did they really kill all the others?”
Taniesse was silent for several minutes as they walked. She sighed. “Let’s just put it this way. My sisters and I are the only visible dragons presently in Aetheaon. More than that, I will not offer.”
“Aye. Tis a good thing to know.”
After hours of walking, they came to a clearing in the forest. Taniesse pulled her black sword from its sheath and trudged ahead of Boldair. He cleared his throat and started to speak, but she turned with an index finger pressed to her lips, instantly hushing him. In a whisper like a gentle teasing breeze, she said, “Be prepared.”
Boldair’s hand tightened on his ax. He peered curiously ahead. A small shack was nestled in the center of a grove. Its walls were gray stones poorly stacked upon one another. The crumbling mortar between the rock slabs made Boldair wonder how the walls hadn’t collapsed well before now. The thatched roof was covered with thick greenish-yellow moss.
White smoke drifted from a simple rock chimney. A narrow path winded away from the shack and disappeared further ahead into the forest. Thick dead needles that were crunchy and brown littered the forest floor. No signs of more poisonous vines, which made Boldair breathe a bit easier. The last thing he wanted was another embarrassing premature attack on something dangerous enough to kill them. Rocks and gems he could readily identify, but plants . . . he’d never become an herbalist.
A horse whinnied.
Boldair stopped walking, and Taniesse eased her back against a massive oak. She kept her sword down at her side but her grip around the hilt was tight.
An old horse was tethered to a post outside the rustic shack.
“What is it?” Boldair whispered.
“We have a watcher.”
“Where?”
She shrugged. “I haven’t detected exactly where. But I sense its magic. Could be in the trees. Might even be invisible.”
“Ah, blast it. Invisible? Bah.”
Taniesse frowned, steadily studying the tree canopy. Flowering vines draped like thin curtains between the trees. Ferns and large mushrooms grew in large clumps at the base of thick tree roots. “Sprites, maybe, or a band of forest elves.”
“Here? This close to Damdur? Nah, they know better.”
Taniesse chuckled.
“What?” Boldair frowned.
“You’ve a lot to learn about the Fae, Boldair.”
“And that being?”
“They are the protectors of the forests and its inhabitants. Excellent at concealing themselves in the leaves and branches, too. Dwarves or humans aren’t a deterrent. Fae come in many forms. Not necessarily the Elven race. We’re not that far from Faybourne.”
“Aye. But why would they be watching us?”
She turned and leveled an even stare at him. “Because of our grand entrance into the forest. Fire is destructive, and it may well be that they want to know if we’re hostile intruders or a threat to their forest. Many tiny creatures were also killed in the blaze. Surely their sudden cries of death uttered their demise before they were incinerated. Besides, others probably see the rising smoke for miles. Curiosity, if nothing else, will bring onlookers.”
Boldair gazed at the ground, taking in the information. Regret showed in his eyes while he nodded. “I was a bit hasty. I promise to better evaluate my actions from here on.”
She sighed. “I’m certain that the bones of others who have made the same mistake are rotting in the soil. Just be thankful I was able to incinerate the barbs before they struck us.”
“Would they have been deadly to you, too?”
“Nothing fatal, but I might have been asleep for days, which, for a dragon in our time, isn’t a desired vulnerability.”
A man in a silver robe and hood stepped from the small shack. He tied a bag to the rear of his saddle. He glanced around the trees as he took the reins in hand and climbed onto his steed. His beard was long and gray, but he didn’t move like a feeble old man. He was nimble and quick.
His gaze fell upon the shadowed area of the trees where Taniesse and Boldair stood pressed against the tree. She was thankful the veil of vines helped conceal them. But the man’s interest lingered. He continued watching the area where she and the dwarf stood. In silence and without moving, he kept his focus at their tree.
“Does he see us?” Boldair whispered.
“I don’t think so, but he seems to sense our presence, or perhaps mine.”
The man ran his hand through his beard, his eyebrows raised, but still he refused to look away. A strange cry echoed in the trees on the other side of the small shack, catching the old man’s attention. He turned. After a few moments, he shrugged and climbed onto his horse.
Once he was in the saddle, the man made a gentle clucking sound, and the horse walked onto the dark path, heading in the opposite direction from where Taniesse and Boldair hid.
“Trader?” Boldair whispered.
“I suppose that’s possible, if he’s the owner of the shack. If not, he might be a bandit.”
The shack door creaked open slowly. A weak hand reached across the threshold and into the faint forest light. A man pulled himself through the door on his hands and knees.
“Come on,” Taniesse said, tearing into a sprint.
Boldair scrambled behind her, working his stubby legs twice as hard trying to keep up with her.
When they reached the shack door, the old man glanced up at them with fear in his pale blue eyes. His wrinkled bearded face was smeared with blood. When his eyes caught sight of their weapons, he cried out and covered his face with his bloody hands.
“We’re not here to harm you,” Taniesse said.
Boldair set his ax against the gray rock wall. He extended a hand to the old man. The man warily studied the dwarf for several moments before finally reaching to accept his hand.
Boldair helped the man to sit on the rock step outside the door.
“Who was your visitor?” Taniesse asked.
“A rogue. Stole all me gold coins and a few potions after beating me.”
“If ye want,” Boldair said, “I can catch up to him and give him a thrashing he won’t soon forget.”
“No,” the man replied in a tired voice. “He’ll find his death soon enough.”
“How’s that?”
“Greed bleeds a man’s soul over time.”
Taniesse eased past the man and stepped into his shack. Tea brewed on a small fire near the fire pit. She poured some tea into a clay cup and brought it to him. “Here.”
He smiled graciously. “Thanks, so much. My name’s Wylard.”
Taniesse gave her name, as did Boldair. She returned inside and found a cloth, dampened it, and stepped outside to tend to his injuries. “Who would do this to an old man?”
Tears formed in the man’s eyes and trickled down his wrinkled face. “My son, Sissrow.”
Taniesse and Boldair stood in stunned silence.
“Your son did this?” she asked.
Wylard nodded.
Boldair’s jaw clenched tightly. “He needs a strapping. That he does.”
Wylard allowed a snorting snicker in spite of his tears. “I’m afraid he’s much too old for that. Not that doing so early in his life would have made any difference. He’s been a tyrant since he was able to speak. Nothing I tried ever tamed him.”
“And what of his mother?” Taniesse asked.
“He has none.”
“She died?” Boldair asked.
“No. He never had one.”
“Then how—”
Wylard wrung his aged hands together. “Because I am a foolish old man. I
have lived my life as a hermit. Isolation away from people was something I always found comforting when I was young. But after years passed and I was too old to have any children, much less search for a wife, I found myself wondering what it would be like to be a father and have someone to nurture and talk to. A crazy dream, I suppose, after living alone for so long. What kind of role model could a hermit be? I didn’t know how to function in the cities or with people in general. How was I supposed to teach a child the proper ways to survive? But by the time I thought about those things it was too late.”
Taniesse cocked a brow. “What do you mean, ‘too late?’”
“Sissrow was on my doorstep. An infant, just as I had been promised.”
“Promised by whom?”
“Does it matter?” Wylard sipped some tea.
“Ye have my curiosity,” Boldair said. “Would be nice to know.”
Wylard sighed and gave a tired nod. “I suppose telling now doesn’t matter. Since death is close for me anyhow.” He pointed to the west. “Through that grove, about a day’s travel away, is a magical well. While hunting herbs to make various tonics and spell potions, I happened upon it as the sun was setting and I was looking for a place to set up camp for the night.”
Taniesse frowned. “Are you talking about the Well of Misfortune?”
“If that’s what it is called, the name fits adequately enough.”
“What happened?” she asked.
“I went to the well, hoping to draw water, but there wasn’t a bucket to lower into it. A few seconds later, a spirit hovered over the opening. She was so beautiful. She asked what I desired most in my life. At the time, having a son was the one thing that occupied my mind the most, so that was what I had replied to the apparition.”
“And she offered to grant your wish?” Boldair asked.
Wylard nodded. “She granted me a son, but nothing like I had expected.”
“A tyrant?” Taniesse stated.
“Yes. You see. Sissrow possesses every negative aspect of my soul. All of the spite, hatred, and greed that were once a part of me now reside inside of him. It’s like I can look in a mirror, but what reflects is everything I detest and everything that I am not. She took all the ugliness of what was inside of me to create him. He’s the dark part of me. Being a hermit is to submit oneself to a life of modesty and humility. I desire only what is necessary to survive, but his want is never satisfied.”
Lady Squire- Dawn's Ascension Page 24
