Serpent in the Mist

by Cleave Bourbon

  “Get moving, you two,” Morgoran commanded.

  “We’re coming!” Devyn shouted back, almost angrily. He turned back to Vesperin. “What were you saying?”

  Vesperin smiled sheepishly. “Nothing that won’t keep. We had better get moving.” He hoisted his leather backpack over his shoulder and put his free hand on Devyn’s shoulder before he walked in the direction of Morgoran. Devyn swung his backpack over his shoulder and caught up to Kelle.

  “Where’s Bren, Tat?” he asked.

  “He went to scout ahead. We are coming up on Tyre, and he doesn’t want any surprises.”

  “You have been spending a lot of time with him of late.” Devyn said the words before his brain could stop him, and he instantly regretted it.

  Kelle stopped cold. “Oh, no. Don’t tell me you are going to start getting jealous.”

  “No, I-, it’s just that—”

  “Devyn, I met Amadean once by using the Lora Daine on my shield. So now, I am a dragon knight, and I don’t even know what that is. In a few days, we will be in Draegodor. When we enter the city, I will stand before Amadean to be officially welcomed as the first female dragon knight, and I don’t need my betrothed acting like a fool. Bren is the only person that can instruct me right now, that’s all.”

  Morgoran had stopped up ahead on the trail. “Devyn, what in Fawlbane’s name are you doing? Keep up or at least quit bothering those trying to keep up!”

  “We’re following!” Devyn barked back. He whispered in Kelle’s ear, “I liked him better when he was cursed.”

  “I heard that! You whisper about as well as you follow!”

  “How in the . . . ?” Devyn smirked at Kelle.

  Kelle giggled in spite of herself. “By the way, how are your lessons going?”

  Devyn took her hand, and they started moving down the trail after Morgoran. “Painfully slow. He tries to show me how to use essence, and then he gets grumpy when I don’t immediately understand it.”

  “Well, all this is happening so fast. A season ago, when I was working in the kitchen, I never dreamed I would end up going to Draegodor.”

  “Do you think I am doing the right thing? Becoming a wielder, I mean. This essence sickness business is a bit scary.”

  “You have to protect yourself now, and I can’t imagine a better way. Morgoran will find you a cure for the sickness. So you will not be yourself for a while. I wouldn’t worry about it too much.”

  “Aye, but you have to know I am not a highlord. There has to be another way, and as soon as I can find it, I will take it.”

  “What do you mean? You still think you were chosen to be highlord? Is this the sickness?”

  “No, I feel fine,” he assured her. “I am just saying that whatever Sylvalora had in mind . . . well . . . it doesn’t feel right.”

  Neither Devyn nor Kelle noticed that Morgoran had stopped as they talked, and he now stood directly in front of them. “Sylvalora chose you for what?” he asked.

  “You eavesdrop too, Master?”

  “Never mind that. What did she choose you for?”

  “She said she chooses me, and then she became the Silver Drake and attacked.”

  “At Brightonhold?”

  “Aye.”

  Morgoran busted out with laughter. “You assumed she named you highlord, did you? You think it’s that easy. The Silver Drake just flies around and suddenly names a highlord on a whim.”

  Devyn was becoming annoyed. “I am thinking no.”

  “Of course not. She was choosing you all right. It was a direction spell. She chose you to find her if something happened to her. You hold the key to locating her. After our business in Draegodor, I will show you how to find her.”

  “We aren’t going after her now?”

  “She will be fine until we can organize.” Morgoran motioned for the rest to keep moving. “Let’s get to Mount Urieus.”

  Kelle grabbed ahold of Devyn’s arm, and they began to follow Morgoran again. “Do you feel better now?” she asked.

  Devyn shrugged. He abruptly met Kelle’s gaze. “I don’t want you to be a dragon knight,” he blurted out.

  “What? I know this must be the essence sickness!”

  Devyn straightened. “I am not sick. I just think that if you are to be my wife . . .” he hesitated. “Look, I don’t want you to become a dragon knight. I want you to give it up.”

  Kelle’s face reddened. “You don’t know what you are asking of me. I am bound.”

  “You are bound to me. Isn’t that enough for you?”

  Kelle did not immediately answer; her expression spoke of the animosity she held.

  “Let someone else be the first female dragon knight. Why does there even have to be a female dragon knight anyway?”

  Kelle opened her mouth twice to speak but nothing came out. Finally, she clenched her fists, pushed him away, and stomped down the trail after Morgoran.

  “Go ahead and stomp away, but we are not done with this,” Devyn called after her. Kelle continued to stomp away, undeterred by his words.

  “If I didn’t know he had essence sickness, I would punch him in the face,” Kelle mumbled to herself.

  THEY REACHED TYRE ABOUT three hours before nightfall. The mountain village reminded Devyn of Brookhaven; both villages nestled at the base of the Jagged Mountains. The smells, sights, and sounds made Devyn long for home—if Brookhaven still existed. With one gaze at his cleric friend, he could tell Vesperin felt the same way. Devyn looked forward to staying in an inn for a change.

  “As soon as we resupply, we will head up toward Mount Urieus. We can make it to the base before it gets too dark,” Morgoran said.

  “Why don’t we just stay the night here in Tyre?” Devyn asked.

  “Because if we are being watched, that’s what we would be expected to do,” Morgoran replied. “I should think that after the many attacks you have endured, you would want to get to the safety of Draegodor posthaste.”

  “Of course I do, Master.” Devyn decided that he needed to start showing Morgoran some backbone.

  “Good,” Morgoran responded.

  Melias chuckled and patted Devyn on the back. “Don’t let him get to you. Believe it or not, he is trying to get you to think on your feet.”

  “I won’t,” Devyn replied. “I guess Ianthill was soft on me in comparison.”

  “Ianthill never had the chance to build an apprenticeship with you. I have seen wielders who simply handed over musty old books and vague instructions for the first couple of years before instructing. They kept a hands-off approach.”

  Devyn reached into the pack he had slung over the rear of his horse and pulled out a dusty tome.

  “Oh, I see.” Melias gave Devyn a sly grin.

  The people of Tyre did not seem overly friendly as the small party entered the village. People scurried inside their dwellings and slammed shutters closed at the sight of them coming up the cobblestone street. Morgoran was able to talk his way into the bakery and then subsequently into the butcher’s shop. Devyn noticed that he never saw Morgoran paying for any provisions, and the shopkeepers were falling over themselves to please him. Devyn wondered if he threatened to use essence on them, but that didn’t seem to be the case or he would see fear in their eyes. They had none. Instead, they appeared elated and helpful, a sharp contrast to the behavior of the townspeople. The butcher kept bowing and taking Morgoran’s hand in adulation.

  “I think I’m going to be sick,” Devyn whispered to Vesperin. “Look at how they are treating him.”

  “What is it between you two?” Vesperin asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Ever since he took over teaching you, you have been at odds.”

  “Really? I hadn’t noticed,” Devyn lied.

  “It is obvious to me that Morgoran is a highly respected man. If I were you, I would find out why and go from there.”

  Devyn watched Morgoran trying to insist to pay for the dried meat he was buying and the butcher
adamantly refusing to take his money. The butcher believed in him, respected him. “Maybe I should try a little harder.”

  “It probably wouldn’t hurt,” Vesperin replied.

  They left Tyre almost as quickly as they had entered it. Morgoran quickened the rate of travel to a near unbearable pace. Devyn collapsed onto a dry, rocky area behind a boulder outcropping surrounded by barren winter trees, untouched by snow, when Morgoran announced they were close enough to Mount Urieus to make camp. They had traveled until it was completely dark, and as the darkness fell, so did the temperature, but Morgoran refused to allow a fire. They wrapped themselves in heavy furs to keep warm. To Devyn’s surprise, Kelle came to him and snuggled in close for extra warmth. He welcomed her by wrapping his arms around her and holding her tightly.

  “Tat, does this mean—”

  “Don’t talk to me. I am just not going to freeze out here. It doesn’t mean I want to hear you speak or that I want to discuss what happened on the trail with you or that I am not mad at you.”

  “But I changed my—”

  “Just go to sleep, Devyn, before I go snuggle with Vesperin.”

  Devyn chuckled. “Vesperin would probably die from the shock.”

  Kelle let out a stifled giggle but recovered it. “Go to sleep, Devyn.”

  MORGORAN LIT HIS PIPE with a flick of his finger and motioned for Bren and Melias to move to the side of the outcropping, away from where Devyn slept.

  Devyn heard his name in conversation, so he pretended to be asleep as he strained to listen.

  “How fast can we get to the sanctuary, Bren?” Morgoran asked.

  “If we keep up a good pace, by nightfall next eve.”

  “It could be too late by then. In case you haven’t noticed, Devyn’s condition is getting worse. He is becoming more aggressive. Soon he will be impossible to control. We need to get him to Draegodor, to the clerics.”

  Bren pointed to the peaks ahead. “The distance to Draegodor is not far, but climbing Mount Urieus . . .”

  “What about Vesperin?” Melias interjected. “Can’t he cure him?”

  “Nay. Vesperin is a powerful cleric, but I’m sure he hasn’t been taught how to handle something like this in Symboria. He is a cleric of Loracia. We need a cleric of old. A cleric of Fawlsbane Vex.”

  “I am not sure my brother clerics can heal what ails him either.”

  Morgoran seemed irritated, as if the monk had suddenly become unbearably stupid. “I am not referring to your kind of Fawlsbane Vex clerics. I am referring to the dragons—Fawlsbane’s most prized and powerful creations. I would think a monk of Fawlsbane Vex would have picked up on that! I guess I was wrong.”

  “Maybe you have essence sickness,” Melias replied acidly.

  Morgoran ignored him and puffed his pipe.

  “Is it that serious?” Bren asked, his gaze shifting to Melias.

  Morgoran puffed again on his pipe. “Worse case I have ever seen. The centuries have not been kind to those who can wield, it seems. In the old days, it only cropped up once or twice, and then it was gone for good. Devyn’s reoccurs frequently. The clerics among the ancient dragons should be able to remedy it, if not cure it.”

  Melias shook his head. “What if it comes back? Is there a definitive cure?”

  Morgoran let the white smoke from his pipe roll from his mouth, and then he blew the rest out in one gust. “Aye, there is one way. I could take him to Rugania and force him to go through the trial. Although, that is my last resort.”

  “Forgive me, Morgoran, but what is the trial?” Bren asked.

  “It’s a rite of passage for a young wielder from the days when master wielders still taught apprentices in the traditional sense. When the masters thought they were ready, they would send their apprentices to the Isle of Rugania and subject them to the trial. I cannot tell you what the trial is in exact terms because no one knows how the trial actually works anymore, you understand, but just know that it can sometimes be fatal, and often is, especially when it is used to cure essence sickness.”

  “Rugania is also known as the Isle of Doom, is it not?” Melias said.

  Morgoran nodded. “Aye, it has been called by that name before.”

  “Well, not that method then!” Melias stated. “Is he even remotely ready for such an ordeal?”

  Morgoran scoffed. “Oh, not at all. In fact, he knows less about wielding than a novice, and he is a stubborn learner right now with the sickness. Oh, Melias, Rugania is called the Isle of Doom because one has to be prepared by a wielder to set foot on it, not because of the trial. Anyone who tried to make landfall for nefarious reasons met their doom, you see.”

  Melias nodded.

  “Then what you are saying is that he could die while taking the trial?” Bren repeated.

  “Perhaps. Of course, since he is worthy of the Silver Drake’s choosing, he will live if he fulfills his duty and finds her as she wishes. If he has her by his side, his survival rate increases considerably. She will protect him as only she can.”

  Bren grimaced. “What if the Silver Drake cannot be found?”

  Morgoran grinned. “My dear broodlord, the Silver Drake is never wrong. If she chose Devyn to find her, he will find her.”

  Devyn broke out in a cold sweat. He looked at the back of Kelle’s head and hoped she was not disturbed by his nervous squirming. What did they mean about him becoming aggressive? He felt the same as he always had. I better think about how to find the Silver Drake, he thought.

  “Morgoran, something is moving through the trees below,” Devyn heard Melias say. “At first I thought it was just the trees swaying in the breeze, but now I can see figures.” Devyn sat up to watch Morgoran’s reaction.

  Morgoran squinted in the low light; the patchy snow semi-illuminated the darkness of the clearings. “I don’t see anything.”

  Bren drew his dragon claw. “There, in the trees. I see it too.”

  Morgoran put his hand over his pipe and whispered. A wisp of smoke from the bowl snaked out into his hand. He cupped it and blew the smoke out toward the trees, and it traveled exceptionally quickly into the darkness. “Ignite,” he said. A burst of intense light flashed over the trees, and hundreds of black-winged creatures scattered in all directions, screeching.

  “Dramyds! They have followed us. Quickly, strike the camp. I will blind them and keep them away. Go now!” He stopped and put his hand on Melias’ arm. “Now would be a good time, old friend.”

  Melias nodded before turning to face Bren, who bowed his head momentarily out of respect.

  Devyn jumped away from Kelle as Melias and Bren rushed around the camp, gathering up the leather backpacks. “What is happening? What’s down there?” He didn’t want them to think he had been eavesdropping.

  “Dramyds in the forest. Get your gear and head up the mountain.” Kelle started rounding up her things. Devyn pulled Dranmalin from its scabbard. Bren stayed Devyn’s arm. “We can’t fight them; there are too many. Get up the side of the mountain to the sentinels.”

  Devyn sheathed Dranmalin and gathered up his backpack. Frantically he followed Bren and Kelle as they stumbled up the rocky outcropping. He could hear the horses screaming, and he hoped they had broken loose and run away. The side of the mountain brightened with intermittent flashes of light, reminding him of a lightning storm. He stopped and looked back after he heard something explode. He briefly saw the image of Morgoran with his arms outstretched to the sky. The forest trees below were bursting in giant fiery splinters, impelling Dramyds to the frozen ground.

  Devyn turned back to the mountain ahead and climbed with frenzied speed. His heart skipped a beat when he heard the now familiar beating of leathery wings above him. Devyn froze as a Drasmyd Duil landed directly in his path, its teeth exposed in a sinister grin. It lurched for him, and he fell backward to the ground, fumbling for Dranmalin. The Drasmyd Duil reached for him with its terrible claws, and Devyn braced for the worse, but it never came; he opened his eyes to the horrific s
ight of the Drasmyd Duil’s head immersed in a golden light, distorting as the rest of the now headless creature’s body fell to its knees. Vesperin stood behind it with its head between his hands, squeezing, his teeth gnashed in a determined concentration. Devyn had never seen such hatred from his friend before. The black flesh of the Drasmyd Duil’s head peeled away to reveal its twisted skull. Vesperin let the severed skull fall to the ground, smoldering.

  “Come on, Devyn, run!” he insisted.

  Devyn gathered himself up and ran as fast as he could up the steep incline. He heard more explosions and squealing screams behind and below him, but he dared not look back. He only hoped the squeals were coming from Dramyds and Drasmyd Duil and not from his friends. He stumbled on loose rock and went down on all fours. His backpack broke loose and tumbled behind him. Clawing desperately at the shifting terrain, Devyn slid down the side of the incline. The sound of beating wings inspired him to claw at the ground faster. Something grabbed the hood of his cloak and pulled him back to sure footing. Devyn’s heart pounded. He readied himself for a fight, but instead, he stood stunned, looking into the blood-red eyes of Melias. The monk hovered above the ground, two leathery wings outstretched behind him, keeping him aloft. With each flash of Morgoran’s light spell, Melias’ features changed. He began to look like a red Drasmyd Duil. Devyn saw red-scaled claws in place of Melias’ hands, and he shrank back from him, not comprehending what he was seeing. Melias reached out with his red claws and took Devyn by his arms. He looked for Kelle, who was now in the company of Vesperin, heading up the mountain. Devyn tried to force the claws away in vain. With a powerful lurch, Devyn felt himself being lifted upward into the night air.

  Chapter 7: Basillain

  Lady Shey looked down the muddy, filth-laden street to a shabby inn located a few long paces away. “I will confirm that the Eagle Eye, and this city for that matter, was in much better shape the day Gondrial and I made our pact.”

  Lady Shey’s short companion sloshed through the mud beside her. “I assume you have this sort of pact in all the kingdoms?”