Suddenly, Arda felt naked standing in her undergarments in front of this woman. She hurried back to her bed and pulled the covers over her body. Because of her horns, she couldn’t lay on her side without sitting up. Instead she lay on her back and stared at the ceiling, conscious of Anuit’s eyes on her.
Now she understood the human woman. Arda was not against such things. She had a woman lover once, long ago, a human in Galadheim. A farm girl in a town that Arda, Attaris, and Danry had saved from a roving band of orcish highwaymen. The farmer’s daughter had noticed Arda watching her and had led the paladin away from the pub festivities celebrating their successful quest. She brought Arda to her father’s barn that night and the two of them had shared intimacies in the hay.
Arda kept it secret from Attaris—his dwarven sensibilities would be highly offended—and Arda lingered behind with the farm girl for a few more weeks, until Attaris sent word back that she was needed and that it was her duty to leave behind whatever infatuation for a moonstruck boy she had found. She never told him the truth, and she never returned to the farm girl again. She had been sad to leave, for she had found that being with the young woman had been as rewarding as with any man. She had loved her.
Arda never repeated that experience. Most women weren’t interested in such things, so Arda had closed that side of her, for she found men quite nice, too. Different, but nice nonetheless. And it wouldn’t have gone over well with the dwarf. There was no need to cause a problem when no problem needed causing.
Now, here, she knew she had an opportunity again for something different, something like what she had experienced with that farmer’s daughter so many years ago. She was no longer traveling with Attaris as a comrade-in-arms, so she had no more responsibility to the old team.
“Do you ever worry your demons will get the better of you?” Arda suddenly asked aloud.
“Yes,” Anuit answered without hesitation.
Arda was somewhat surprised by her honesty. At least Anuit wasn’t blind to the risk. “Then why?”
“Why do people do what they do?” Anuit asked rhetorically. “It’s where my life has led me from a very early age. Now it’s the power that I have, and it has saved me many times over.”
Arda couldn’t argue with that. Nevertheless, the idea of being involved with someone who summoned demons and channeled the Dark—Arda was a paladin of the Light, for goodness sake!—scared her.
And yet, she already knew her heart had responded to Anuit. She couldn’t say when she first felt this way, but her feelings had been growing, underneath her attention, since Astiana.
“Anuit,” Arda whispered, swallowing. Suddenly saying her name caused heart to race in her chest. “Would you post your imp to stand watch? Just in case.”
“I already have,” Anuit said. Arda, still staring at the ceiling, could hear the smile in her voice.
Arda acknowledged the feelings growing in her heart. She knew Anuit was hesitant, but it was clear that the human woman had similar feelings. She might have to push her a little.
Arda closed her eyes and shoved such thoughts away for later. They both needed sleep. There was no telling what Taer Iriliandrel had in store for them, but she hadn’t had a good night’s rest since…
15 - Kaldor’s Tower
The serpentine mist flew west through the night sky from Dragonholm where it had spent the last year searching for signs of surviving dragons. All it found—all she found—were the corpses of three of the Archdragons. The mist had not found the fourth, the only one she wanted to find. The dead body of the Green was hidden from her, but Dragonholm was a big place.
When she had been alive, there had been lesser dragons in the world. What had happened to them in the thousand years she had been trapped, frozen in time as an undead revenant? All she found in Dragonholm now were small roving bands of troglodytes that had started to poke their way up to the surface world from the depths of the earth. Disgusting race, troglodytes. They had worshipped the Black Dragon long ago, then retreated back to their Underworld caverns when he had been bound in slumber. That they would emerge again now was interesting, but of no concern to her.
She passed swiftly over miles of land until she saw the lake and the tower rising up from the island. There it was. Taer Iriliandrel. Revulsion filled her belly as she approached. There was no sign of life from within, and no light graced the tower’s windows. It looked strange to her, as dark as it was. It had never been without light before.
The mist flowed down to the smooth outer wall. She relaxed her mind, re-solidifying into the body of a young elven woman. The strange magic that governed her being now allowed her to adhere firmly to the walls like an insect. The vampire crawled up the side of the tower towards the first open balcony in shifty, disjointed movements. She held her hands flat against the stone, and the insides of her lower legs clasped firmly at the tower’s side. She pulled herself up over the balcony banister and then stood, surveying her surroundings.
She could smell him everywhere. Kaldor. The stink of the Gold Dragon filled her nostrils and made the blood race and hiss in her veins, as if serpents coiled through her arteries. She hoped he was still here. She hated him. She hated them all. She only wished she had been the one to kill Valkrage. Especially Valkrage.
Sidhna stepped into the dark interior. Her vampire eyes clearly saw the halls she had once walked as a mortal elf. A thousand years had passed. Had the Archdragons never intervened in mortal affairs, she would have probably passed from natural age by now. It would have been better that way.
Now all she had was her hate, and the desire of her thirst. She loved nothing more than drinking the living until they died and shared her fate. Turned vampires were always pale comparisons of her. She was Malahkma’s chosen daughter, the first vampire. She would destroy the remnants of the Dragons and all their works, and it didn’t matter if her blood consumed the world to do so.
There was someone else here, though. Someone walked through these walls. She could smell the blood. She dissolved her form and became a thick blanket of mist, clinging to the ceiling as she flowed through the halls down to the initiates’ apartments on the middle levels. She passed by the chamber to the room where she had once slept. Aaron had made love to her there while the mind of Graelyn was pressing in from the back of her skull. She passed by the old room, finding no desire to beg the memory.
She smelled the intruder ahead and solidified her form again, crawling quietly along the ceiling down the hall. A man searched the rooms. She followed him, undetected. Her orange-red hair hung down from her, but he didn’t notice it behind his head.
He held a small oil lamp, trying to keep quiet as he walked forward. He must have been from the city. He looked like a fisherman. She couldn’t fathom why he would risk coming here at night. Maybe he had lost track of time. He carried a bag that had been filled with gold trinkets—medallions, goblets—the finery of the High Wizards of old. Even though she hated this tower and everything it stood for, this had still been her home once. It was her history, her memories. It was hers to hate, and he intruded.
She followed him into a room. Aaron’s old room. The intruder opened drawers, looking for anything of value. She watched him, head bent over her shoulder at an unnatural angle as her hands and shins clung to the ceiling.
Her long hair brushed the back of his neck. He started in surprise, giving a yell. He looked up into her dead eyes and screamed, dropping the lamp to the ground. The flame died.
She dropped her hands from the ceiling and reached down, still with her knees and shins holding her up. She grabbed him before he could run and pulled him up to her. She held him tightly as he struggled.
“Your desire will never end,” she said, and then bit savagely into his neck. Her fangs extended and injected their venom, and he relaxed. As the ecstasy took her, she released the ceiling and fell to the ground with him. She felt no pain from the fall, but she heard a crunching sound as one of his legs twisted and snapped. She buried her
face in his neck, holding him to her mouth like a chalice. She did not feed neatly, allowing blood to spill over his body and soak her dress. Sticky red coated her chin. He whimpered weakly from his broken leg but relaxed with her bite’s soothing venom.
She didn’t stop until his heart pushed no more blood into her mouth, and even then she sucked more from his open throat until the hot red fluid stopped seeping. She stood, feeling the rush of his life within her veins. Laughing, she grabbed his head and flung his body against the wall.
She paused for a moment, gazing at the wet red stains on the floor and sides of the room before moving on. She wandered the tower halls and chambers throughout the remainder of the night, lost in a reverie of memory. As dawn approached, she felt the fatigue start to weigh on her. She walked slowly to the bottom of the tower, where she transformed into mist and flowed through the cracks and air ducts in the floors into the secret cellars where no hallways led and no doors connected. This was where the wizards of old kept their most valued treasures, rooms where only magical skill could grant access.
When she had lived here as a student so long ago, she had learned spells of translocation. Such magic was closed to her now, but the power of her blood made up for it. She would wait for Kaldor’s return. She cared not for the contents of these cellars; she only wanted a safe place to pass the day. Her foggy mist flowed down and collected within one of the chambers. She assumed her elven form again inside and lay on the floor, falling into dreamless sleep as the sun touched the sky outside.
* * *
Aradma flew from Windbowl to Erind Isle for twelve hours before resting, and then flew another twelve. She approached before dusk on the second day but stayed away from the city. She remained in her falcon form as she slept in high treetops deep in the forest north of Erindil Lake. She thought it best to approach the city after sunrise.
When morning came, she spread her wings once more and took to the skies, flying over the sparkling wave crests of Erindil Lake towards the island. She was moved by the tower’s beauty and climbed higher to circle it several times. The crown of the tower resembled a dragon’s hand clutching a sparkling jewel of such clarity that it scintillated with prismatic splendor. As she circled the gracefully tapering, pristinely white marble walls, she could make out scenes carved in bas-relief up its sides.
She located a balcony high at the top, just under the wrist of the dragon’s claw. Upon landing, she shapeshifted from the falcon into the form of the white leopard. As the great cat, she faded from visibility and proceeded into the tower, moving silently on padded feet.
* * *
Arda tied the rowboat to the dock’s moorings. Holding out her hand, she helped Anuit out of the boat. Dart remained at Narim’s villa since both the boat and the island were somewhat small.
Anuit stared up at the white tower. They could just make out the outline of the top dragon’s claw and its crystal. The sorceress had worn her green gown again, now with its torn hem, underneath the wool cloak. Arda didn’t blame her for wanting to change back into the enchanted dress. The damp cold seemed to have fingers that got in everywhere.
Arda’s black eyes glittered as she stared at Taer Iriliandrel’s white outer walls. The carvings at ground level depicted hosts of dragons flying over an unformed world. On the ring above that, she saw scenes of the gods creating each race of Ahmbren and the dragons serving as messengers of the gods. The scenes continued up the tower, but they quickly became too distant to identify the mythical representations.
Arda felt a pang of apprehension. What if Kaldor were inside? She still had to confess her sins to him. What if he rejected her?
No, I am resolved, she told herself. After putting Tulley to rest, her access to the Light had become somewhat easier again. She knew she still held the Order’s values in her heart. She just needed to confess her sin and accept whatever penance the Dragon’s avatar would lay out for her.
Anuit’s imp, succubus, and hellhound appeared beside her.
“I’m not sure demons send the right message,” Arda said. “This is Kaldor’s tower. Archurion’s tower.”
“We have no idea what’s in there,” remarked Anuit. “I’m not going in without them.”
Arda’s lips tightened. Anuit frowned back at her.
“Fine,” the paladin said.
“Fine,” Anuit responded, and proceeded towards the tower.
Arda followed her. They circled the base of Taer Iriliandrel, searching for an entrance.
“There’s no door!” Anuit protested. “Why is there no door?”
“This is a wizard’s tower,” Arda responded. She watched as Anuit stared up at the marble walls. The sorceress crossed her arms over her chest and looked quizzically at the pictures, as if it were some puzzle to be solved. She tilted her head and the lower lids of her eyes tensed up ever so slightly as she concentrated. Irritation aside, Arda was struck by how cute her determination looked.
Arda looked away and caught Bryona watching her watch Anuit. Bryona’s left eyebrow arched, and her face held an air of smug amusement.
“We’ll have to climb,” Arda said, ignoring the succubus.
“What?”
“There are windows forty or fifty feet up. The carvings should give more than enough handholds.”
“Surely there’s another way in,” Anuit protested.
“Do you know an opening spell?” Arda returned. She couldn’t keep the exasperation from her voice.
“No. I’m not a wizard.”
“Then we climb.”
“I can’t climb in this gown,” Anuit protested.
“Maybe you should have worn the trousers then,” Arda snapped. “Wait here. I’m going inside. Maybe there’s something I can throw down to you.”
Arda tipped her wide-brimmed tricorne off of her head, letting it fall and hang by its leather strap on her back. She stepped forward and touched the marble, her fingers protesting its cold surface.
She rapidly scaled the side, making short work of the fifty-foot climb. She pulled herself into a window and landed on its sill, crouching on her feet. The room inside was a narrow chamber with two bunk beds and four narrow, high wardrobes. She suspected it had been for students at one time.
She listened, but the inside of the tower was silent.
The imp floated in the window behind her. “My lady will use my eyes,” the tiny-winged, lapis-skinned man informed her.
Arda nodded. There was nothing she could do about it. In any case, she had already started to rely on Anuit’s demons in their travels as watchers through the night. She realized that as long as she traveled with the sorceress, demons would be a part of her life too. She held her finger to her lips. Belham nodded in understanding and mimicked her.
She moved to the hallway and followed its curve around until she found the southern stairwell. She descended, keeping alert for any signs of life. She was glad for her darkvision, that she did not have to announce her presence with any light source.
Anuit was right. There had to be a door. Not everyone who came to the tower in ages past, nor everyone who worked there, would have been a wizard. There must have been a ground entrance.
Sure enough, from the inside it was obvious. The stairwell opened into the left side of an entry hall, and on the wall there was a visible door seam adorned with gold inlay and a smooth red oval gem in the middle. The front door was large, twenty feet wide. The problem would be whether it was balanced so that a single person could open it.
She examined the gem for a moment and then pressed it. It slid into its recession and emitted a soft glow. Crystal globes around the entry hall illuminated, radiating magical light, and the gold inlay patterns of tree branches and ivy also emitted dim luminescence. The door shuddered a brief moment, and then slid up and disappeared into the stone ceiling with a smooth swiff. The chiming of bells sounded and echoed up the stairs, and then faded.
Anuit stood on the other side of the door. “Oh!” she exclaimed. “Well, that was int
eresting. The relief carvings flattened, and then just—see, I told you there was another way in!” She poked Arda on the shoulder as she walked into the entry hall, followed by Bryona and Khiighun.
She looked back at the paladin. “Are you coming?”
* * *
Aradma padded through the upper halls, exploring the scents in the air with her feline nose. She smelled a human had been there, but the scent had become stale. She stepped into the circular library. She had never seen so many books in one place. Embedded shelving covered the entire circumference of the room, completely filled with tomes, large and small, of all colors. The walls had no windows, but more than enough light spilled into the room from above for her leopard’s eyes to clearly see every detail. A large, flat staircase lined the edge of the room. It had no frame and followed the circumference of the chamber five feet from the outer ring of books. Flat oval steps made of oak hung suspended in the air by magic, so that one could look through them and see the bookshelves behind. The opening in the ceiling was bright enough to momentarily dazzle her.
She heard a chiming of bells echo softly through the halls and then fade. She froze, muscles taught. She waited for several minutes, but nothing stirred and no further sound was heard.
Aradma silently padded up the stairs into the light above. It was sunlight, getting brighter as she circled the stairwell. She entered the chamber and realized she was inside the large diamond at the top of the tower.
She moved to the middle of the room and was overcome by the sunlight. There in the central focal point, a million shafts of light separated out into their colors and recombined to a brilliant white. They formed a dazzling array of woven sunbeams that focused down upon her in an aggressive assault of scintillating splendor.
The sunlight touched her to her core and her connection to the green life of Ahmbren responded to its touch, drinking in its warmth. A surge of Ahmbren’s life force welled up within her, and she fell out of her leopard’s form back into her elven shape. The light tickled and penetrated her being, and she gasped as Life surged through her in response to the sun’s energy. She remained on hands and knees, unable to move, much less channel greenery to cover herself with foliaged clothing. Life burst into the room, charged by the sun’s rays, and the floor erupted with grasses and vines. Ferns emerged thick over the diamond walls, growing up to touch the facets. Vines grew and followed the cuts of the diamond, framing each pane in delicate greenery. The entire room assumed a verdant hue, but the sun shown down upon her unhindered.
When Dragons Die- The Complete Trilogy Box Set Page 54
