I rounded a corner, then stopped in my tracks at the sight of another dead end. This wall was different from the others. Rather than a dull gray, this one was crafted of shimmering white stone, and had a door cut into it, though it had no handle.
"Forged and cut, yet blood is naught. Take me, set me, and you will be free. What am I?"
"A key," I said confidently, holding out my hand. One materialized instantly, along with a keyhole set in the door. Sucking in a breath, I palmed my newly acquired knife in one hand as I used the other to turn the lock.
I had no illusions about the maze. The riddles were too easy to pose a true challenge, which meant the real test lay beyond this one. These items were to prepare me for whatever I would face next.
But when the door swung open, no enemy waited beyond. Instead, I stepped into a large dining room with a twelve-foot rectangular table. The table stretched nearly the length of the room, and its wooden legs groaned under the weight of dozens of dishes. Roasted turkey, stuffed goose, glazed lamb, cakes and pies and more sides than I'd ever seen in my entire life, all piled on one table.
"Zara!" Jallis leaped up from the table, and I nearly toppled over in shock. My mouth fell open as I realized these were all dragon riders seated around the table. Rhia, Halldor, Kade, Ullion, Daria...on and on I counted the names, until I finally lost track. It seemed impossible that there were enough seats for this many people, yet somehow, they fit, eagerly digging into the feast laid out before me.
Jallis took me by the hand and dragged me to the table. "Come on, sit and eat!" he said jovially as he pulled out a chair for me. "You must be exhausted after walking around in that annoying maze for so long.”
"I can't," I said, even as I took a seat. But my stomach growled, and I nearly whimpered when Jallis began piling my plate high with food. "Caor said that I couldn't eat or drink anything, or I'd be stuck in the dead realm forever."
"And what would be so bad about that?" A pair of strong, warm hands settled on my shoulders, and my heart leapt into my throat as I twisted around to look into Tavarian's face. He smiled, his silver eyes full of tenderness. "All your friends are here, even Carina and the orphans." He nodded to the left side of the table, and I glanced over to see that, sure enough, they were here, attacking a bowl of chocolate pudding with relish. "It's warm and safe here, and there's plenty of food. What's the rush?"
"I have to finish the tasks Derynnis set out for me before Drakis finishes repairing the boat," I said. "If I don't, the pirates will leave without us, and Lessie and I will be stuck on that island with no way off."
Tavarian frowned. "What does that matter?" he asked as he sat next to me. He threaded his long fingers with mine, and temptation hit me like a firestorm. It would be so easy to let him tug me into his lap, to sink my hands into his silky black hair and kiss him until I couldn't remember my name.
But I did know my name, and I knew as sure as the sunrise that this wasn't real. Tavarian wasn't here with me, and even if he was, he would never discourage me from continuing on with my quest.
"Since we're all dead anyway," he was saying, "I don't really see the point—"
"Wait, what?" I pulled my hand from his and held it up. "What do you mean, since we're all dead anyway?"
He shrugged. "Well, all of us but you. You weren't on the island when the Zallabarians arrived. They brought a fleet of airships outfitted with more of those terrible shrapnel cannons, and a thousand men besides that. We didn't stand a chance." Grief twisted his handsome features as he added, "I wonder if I will see Muza again. If I am dead, then he must be too. But do dragons get to go to the afterlife, when the gods have never cared for them? Or do they pass on into some other realm?"
"No." Tears scalded my eyes as I grabbed Tavarian's shoulders, my fingers digging in hard enough to bruise. "You're not Tavarian. You're lying."
"I wish I were." Those swirling silver eyes were heavy with sadness. "None of us made it out alive, Zara. The Zallabarians even killed the locals. Ironic, really, that death ended up uniting us when life could not. The chieftains finally banded together with us and we made our last stand at the base. But it wasn't enough, Zara. None of it is ever enough."
"Zara, are you okay?" Carina's hand landed on my shoulder, a sympathetic squeeze that wrenched a sob from me. Her eyes were wide with concern as I turned to look at her. "I thought you'd be happy to see us all here waiting for you, but you didn't even come and say hello?"
"I'm sorry," I croaked around a lump in my throat. I felt like I was being torn apart inside by an invisible shredder running repeatedly across my soul. Twisting around, I looked again at Rhia and Halldor, who were sitting at the foot of the table, laughing as they spoon-fed each other from a bowl of beef stew. How had they died? Had Drakis and his men turned on them, or had they braved the miasma to come looking for me because I'd been gone too long? "I've failed you all."
"You did your best, Zara," Jallis said, rubbing my back in soothing motions. The three of them crowded around me, and a weariness settled over me, rooting me to the chair. If they really were all dead, what was the point of continuing on? Let the gods find another champion to defeat Zakyiar. I was so tired of fighting, so tired of being hurt and scared. I just wanted to live in peace with my friends, with the man I loved.
And what about Lessie? a voice whispered in my head. Is she not your best friend?
The sound of Lessie's name was like a bucket of ice water being dumped on my head, and I jumped to my feet, heart pounding.
"No," I said in a trembling voice as I backed away. I couldn't feel Lessie through the bond, but I knew in my heart she was still alive. After all, I hadn't died, had I?
"No, I'm not going to give up and abandon Lessie. I'm not going to fall for these tricks." I didn't know if the spirits in the room with me really were my friends, but I couldn't give in. Even if Lessie wasn’t waiting for me, there were still millions of innocent people at risk. Millions who would die if I didn't destroy the pieces of heart and stop the dragon god from being reborn.
Tavarian slowly rose from his chair. "Are you sure, Zara?" he asked, moving slowly toward me. With every step he took, his body grew more translucent, showing the bones beneath, the grinning skeleton. "You don't have to keep fighting. Just one sip of this, and you can stay here with us forever."
He held out a goblet of spiced wine, and the smell was so intoxicating, my knees buckled. Damn you, I snarled silently at myself. Fight it!
I knocked the goblet from his hand, and it sailed across the room. Dark red wine arced through the air like a spray of blood, and I jumped back as it splattered across the floor, unwilling to let a single drop touch me.
"Very well." Tavarian was stone-faced now, and my heart cried out at the sight of that implacable mask, the mask he only wore with strangers, with people he couldn't trust. "You may proceed. Goodbye, Zara."
"Tavarian—" I started, lunging forward to grasp his hand. But the room dissolved in a swirl of black smoke, and my fingers met only air. Hot tears trickled down my face, and I sincerely hoped that hadn't really been him. I couldn't bear it if I returned to the world of the living only to find out that he really was dead, and this really had been our last exchange.
When the world finally reformed around me, I stood on a narrow road. Tiny floating lights set along intervals illuminated the space barely enough to see the road stretched over a dark chasm. Faint screams sent icy chills racing down my spine as I walked, and I couldn't tell if the screams were coming from the chasm below or from something up ahead.
I kept walking forward, and eventually became aware of a faint light ahead. The air grew misty and humid as I approached; the light became large fires upon which huge black cauldrons perched. My stomach clenched at the sound of bubbling water laced with screams and sobs. The mist came from the great gouts of steam drifting from the cauldrons. There were three cauldrons total, and in the middle of them stood a behemoth of a man. He was completely naked except for the matted fur that covered hi
s body. Well, most of his body. He had an unfortunate bald spot at the top of his head, and the fur didn't quite cover his manly bits.
"Aha!" the man cried as he laid eyes on me. He pointed the long wooden spoon at me, and for a minute I was afraid that he was about to scoop me up and toss me into one of the cauldrons. "You must be the new help. Took you long enough to arrive!"
"I, uh—"
"Don't you give me any lip. Derynnis promised me over a thousand years ago that he would send me an assistant, so you're beyond late! Go ahead and grab some logs from the pile over there. The fire's getting a little low on this one."
Wary, I skirted around the behemoth and headed for the log pile. Hefting as much wood as I could carry, I approached the cauldron with the lowest flame. Making a show of squatting down to pile the logs on, I ducked behind the side of the cauldron farthest from the man, then tossed my rope through the handle. Looping it through and tying a sturdy knot, I ignored the waves of heat rolling off the cauldron, then braced my foot against its side and climbed up until I was high enough to peer over the edge.
What I saw nearly made me lose my footing and fall into the fire.
"Help us!" the voices inside screamed. Hundreds of naked men and women flailed desperately inside the pot, trying to claw their way out. Their skin was lobster-red from the scalding water, and I could see places where the skin had been boiled away completely, revealing the aggravated flesh beneath. My stomach pitched, and it took everything I had not to hurl the contents of my stomach into the water. It was already bad enough these poor souls were being boiled. They didn't need to be smothered by the scent of vomit at the same time.
"Oi!" The brute turned toward me, his rough-hewn features twisted into a scowl. "What are you doing over there! I told you to stoke the fire!"
I glared at him. "So that I can help you boil people alive?"
The behemoth snorted. "They ain't alive," he said slowly, in that tone you used on people who'd been dropped on their heads as an infant. "They're dead, and this is the punishment Derynnis has set for them as penance for the terrible deeds they committed in life. Now either you help me mete out their sentence, or you can join them!"
"I don't care why they're in there," I snarled. "I'm not going to torture people. Killing in self-defense is one thing, or maybe even twisting an arm to get information if it'll save lives. But this is wrong no matter which way you put it!"
The giant roared in anger as he lunged for me. I dropped to the ground, barely avoiding his meaty hand as he tried to snatch me, then rolled to the side and slashed at his calf with my dagger. He roared with pain as blood gushed from the wound, and I rolled out of the way as he stomped with both feet, trying to flatten me.
"I'll skin you alive for this!" he shrieked, whirling around as he tried to find me. I darted between the cauldrons, round and round, forcing him to chase me in circles until he was dizzy. When I was certain he was sufficiently disoriented, I went back to the cauldron I'd climbed earlier, grabbed the rope, and raced between his legs.
"Gotcha!" His foot slammed into me, and I flew ten feet through the air before crashing to the ground. Searing pain ripped through my body as I struggled to my feet, and I gripped the dagger hard enough to leave an imprint on my palm, really hoping I wouldn't have to fall back on it.
The behemoth lunged for me, and unwittingly yanked the rope I'd just tied around his ankle. The cauldron lurched forward, and the giant let out a blood-curdling scream as a wave of scalding water crashed over him. The boiled men and women spilled out of the cauldron as well, and they wasted no time piling onto the giant, letting out war cries as they pummeled him with their fists. The giant tried to fight them, ripping the attackers off his body and flinging them against the wall, but there were too many, and he toppled to the ground, overwhelmed by the sheer numbers.
“ENOUGH!” a deep, male voice boomed, shaking the foundations of the platform we stood on. Everyone froze, even the naked people, and the giant's orange eyes nearly bugged out of their skull as he stared at something behind me.
"M-master," he sputtered, jabbing a finger at me. "I-I didn't—"
"Enough," the voice repeated, and an icy fist closed around me, squeezing my body until I could barely draw a breath.
"Get back to work, Grath. I will deal with this one now."
22
"Dammit!" I yelled, struggling against the giant hand as it pulled me back into the darkness. But I barely had time to fight before it let go, and my forward momentum sent me careening into what felt very much like a stone pillar. My forehead smacked against the hard stone, and I stumbled back, stars swimming in my vision.
"You do know this is a holy place, don't you?" the voice said as I let out a stream of curses. I turned toward the sound, one hand pressed against the swelling knot on my forehead, and my knees nearly gave out as I stared up at an enormous man sitting on a giant golden throne. Ancient golden eyes regarded me from a face as black as night, and I swallowed hard as we sized each other up. He had to be at least twenty feet tall, a massive giant with muscles stacked on top of muscles. I'd imagined him to be in black robes, like the specter who'd greeted me, but instead he wore a leather apron over a simple jerkin and trousers. The fanciest things he wore were the gloves—gold, emblazoned with strange fiery runes that shifted, making them impossible to read.
"Derynnis." Slowly, I sank to my hands and knees, as Caor had instructed me, and bowed until my forehead touched the swirling black and white marble floor. My heart hammered against my chest as the weight of his gaze pressed into my back. By refusing to stoke the flames, had I failed the test? Would Derynnis throw me out of his domain, or worse, trap me in one of the many hells he'd designed? "It is an honor."
"I would say so," he agreed, and there was a hint of amusement in his voice. "Rise, Champion. I have not brought you here to punish you. At least not today."
I cautiously got to my feet and looked around the room. We were no longer in that terrible place with the vats of boiling water, but in a spacious temple. Directly in front of me was Derynnis's throne, while to my left, several hundred yards away, a giant furnace burned. A hammer and anvil rested there, as well as a blacksmith's worktable and a variety of other tools. To my right was a stone arch that led to a starry landscape, and my breath caught at the sight of a large, swirling constellation hovering directly outside. Without thinking, I took a step toward it.
"I would not go that way if I were you." Derynnis's voice penetrated the haze of wonder that had enveloped my mind, and my gaze snapped back to his. Yes, there was no doubt about it—he found the little mortal in his temple amusing. "If you step through that gate you will find yourself in another world entirely, one where dragons do not exist."
That was enough to make my blood run cold. "Thanks for the warning," I said. "Now, did I pass the test, or are you going to send me back there and make me boil those people after all?"
Derynnis lifted a snow-white eyebrow at me. "You do not approve of my methods," he said.
"I don't generally approve of cooking people alive. Or dead," I added hastily when his other eyebrow rose. "In fact, I think cooking people is a waste of good water and firewood. Why do that when you can make a good trogla stew instead?"
Derynnis gave me a longsuffering sigh. "Your point would be valid if I were planning to eat the souls who are being cooked, but that is not the reason Grath is boiling them. Now," he said before I could argue further, "you can either argue with me about the morality of boiling serial rapists and murderers as penance for their crimes, or you can address the real reason you suffered through my trials to speak to me. I won't entertain both."
"Oh." That the people Grath boiled were such terrible humans made me feel better about leaving them in his care. "In that case, let's get right to it. But first, can I have my stuff back?"
Derynnis clapped his hands, and I once more wore my own clothes and weapons. Tugging on one of the pouches tied to my belt, I removed one of the two pieces of heart and hel
d it up for Derynnis to see. The huge black diamond glittered in the firelight, and I suppressed a shudder as the dark, icy-cold energy coming from the relic began to seep into my skin.
"This is a piece of Zakyiar the Dragon God's heart," I told him. "I've brought two of them with me, and I need you to destroy them both."
Derynnis listened patiently as I told him about the pieces of heart and Salcombe's quest to resurrect the dragon god so he could lay waste to the world.
"Caor told me you are the only god powerful enough to destroy this," I said, holding up the relic again. "Please, Derynnis, if you have any care at all for what happens to this world, help me ensure that the dragon god can never again arise."
Derynnis's golden eyes glittered as he gently took the piece of heart from me. The diamond was huge, nearly as large as my head, and yet between the death god's thumb and forefinger it seemed no larger than an earring.
"Astonishing," he said as he examined it. "The properties of this jewel...I think if I cut it down a bit, it would fit the pommel of the blade I'm working on perfectly."
"Excuse me?" I wasn't sure I'd heard him right. "You want to use a piece of a bloodthirsty, world-destroying dragon god's heart as a decoration for a sword?"
Derynnis scowled. "Not for decoration, but to augment the sword's power." With a wave, a longsword appeared, floating above his massive palm. Even from where I stood, I could tell it was a beautiful piece, an elegant blade made of some kind of silvery metal that was definitely not of this world. Or at least that's what I assumed by the way it shimmered, reflecting colors I'd never seen before and wasn't sure I could ever accurately describe. The hilt was a work of art in itself, forged into some kind of intricate filigree pattern, with an empty setting in the center where a jewel should go.
"I didn't hand the relic over so you could use it to create some terrifying weapon," I said through gritted teeth. Beneath my anger, a current of bone-chilling fear coursed through my veins at the thought of a death god simply keeping the relic. The diamond was large enough to cut into enough pieces to make several swords. "What are you even going to do with that thing when you're done with it? Do you just keep it with your other swords as a collection?"
Test of the Dragon Page 19
