Reborn (The Dragons of Cantor Book 1)

by Lela Robichaux

  And just like that, he was ready to leave.

  She shook her head in amazement. This dwarf was a marvel to her. He stayed drunk most of the time, was filthy, and smelled to the high heavens. But his reaction time was the like of that she had never seen before. Her smirk must have told him more than intended.

  “These old bones are accustomed to traveling life, lass.” He rubbed the long whiskers that sprouted from his chin and stretched his arms and legs as far as they would go. He creaked with the movement, but sighed in contentment once he was done.

  Mey found herself smiling at his ridiculous appearance.

  “You seen that mage this mornin’, girl?”

  Her eyes quickly scanned the street and the landscape behind it. “No, I haven’t. I would have thought he would be the first here as anxious as he was about leaving those Shadow Guard behind.”

  Mey busied herself; checking her pack and bed roll to make sure everything was secure. Moving on to her weapons, she made sure each dagger was secure on the bandolier lying across her chest, in her boots, up her sleeves and in the belt at her waist.

  By the time she’d done all this, Thom was approaching, leading two very tired-looking horses. He had equipment packed and slung over the back of one and the other was burdened with a well-worn saddle that had seen better days. Several pouches hung from his belt, more than were there before. He must have spent his morning procuring components, which meant mostly stones that would aid him in his spell-casting. She was learning way more about mages than she ever cared to.

  “Glad you decided to join us this morning,” she mumbled to him as he stopped to adjust the saddle on the horse. “What good will we get from these nags? They don’t look like they will last out the hour, let alone a three day journey.”

  “See, lass, that’s where yer wrong,” Durlag put in. “Horses like these are fine for journeys. All they need is some love and care. They’ll do fine.” He stepped up between the two horses and laid a hand on each. The horses nuzzled his hands and stepped in closer to him as he began to talk quietly to them both.

  Mey looked at Thom, who seemed to have the same dumb-founded look on his face. Both smiled and chuckled, as if to say, “Who knew?” At least it was clear who was taking care of the horses on this trip.

  Her eyes roamed the small street, stopping on each building briefly. This place was small, but not so small that you felt smothered. Just big enough to get lost in if you needed to. She had wandered into this town twenty years ago. In her sixtieth year, a babe for a half-elf, she had already lived on her own for about ten years. Her father had gone missing and it was a time when she had no idea who she was or what she was going to do with her life. Dipping her fingers into petty thievery to stay alive was already familiar territory; picking a pocket here and there to pay for food or lodgings. For the most part, weapons were familiar to her; she’d a dagger or two and the sword her father had gifted her on her thirtieth nameday by the time she made her way to this seaport town.

  This was where Garrin entered her life. It still pained her to think of him, but she also found some strength in his memory. Their first meeting on the dock was etched in her mind and it was not likely she would forget it. Her thoughts took her back there as she rubbed a gold coin between her thumb and forefinger.

  She’d been so hungry and it had been days since she had eaten anything decent. She had been sitting outside the Dockside Tavern. The proprietor, not being a very original man, but a nice one, would let her stay most of the day in the shade of his awning, singing a song, doing a few card tricks or whatever else she could come up with to earn coins.

  She had seen him enter, young, presumably careless and a purse full of coins. Lifting purses was no big deal since she’d done it before. She had gotten good at it and for the most part, a person wouldn’t even notice it missing until she was long gone. She waited for him to leave the tavern. He was there a long time, but Mey had definitely thought it was worth the wait. The coin in his purse would feed her for many weeks. He finally exited, now with a pronounced lilt in his step, she was sure this would be an easy mark.

  She tensed as he passed her. Mey’s palm was so sweaty she almost dropped the dagger she held. Like lightning, her hand came out; the dagger at the strings of the purse. With the strings cut, the purse was falling and she reached up with her other hand to catch it, poised to run the second it hit her hand. But it never did. It took her a moment to realize that another hand had caught it. Looking up, she stared right into Garrin’s smiling face. She was quick, but he was quicker. As Mey had turned to run, he caught her by the scruff of her clothes and pulled her to him. “Walk,” he whispered in her ear. The tone of his voice left her no doubt that pain would follow if she did not obey. “Like we are old friends just come from drinking our afternoon away at the tavern.”

  With him gripping her tightly, she had no choice but to follow his lead and they both laughed out loud as they stumbled away from the front of the tavern.

  As they walked, he maintained a firm grip on her arm. Mey knew that running was not an option. She could never break that grip. She slipped a dagger into her palm from its hiding place within the arm of her tunic. She would hurt him if she had to. The crowd of people was thinning when he abruptly stopped.

  He spun her toward him, twisting her arm in his iron grip. She squared her shoulders and looked right at him. She was not ashamed of what she had to do. His eyes were steel gray. It reminded her of metal; liquid metal. His dark hair curled about his face framing his hard features. But as she stared at him, something in those eyes softened just a bit as he took in her ragged appearance.

  Reaching into the pouch, he pulled out a coin and pressed it into her palm. “No need to steal from me. If you want to learn, it’s yours.”

  Immediately Mey was suspicious. “Learn what? I don’t sleep with men for money.”

  His laugh was louder than anything she had ever heard. It turned heads, but it was full of honesty. His smile was broad. “I like you. You are straight and to the point.” The laugh fading, he bent closer to her. “Not that. You’re too skinny for my taste. I am talking about learning to properly cut a purse, pick a lock. You have a fast hand and a look that can easily be disguised. Do you want to learn?”

  She could not say she wasn’t intrigued. He seemed so enthusiastic that it caught her up and she found herself really wanting what he was promising.

  With resolve, Mey nodded once. “I want to learn.”

  **********

  Fate had sealed the deal with Garrin and brought her here, to a dirt path leading out of town and into an unknown future. She sighed and returned the coin to her pocket as they started walking toward the treetops south of the town. Seaside was fading behind her.

  The prospect of finding clues of her father’s fate on this journey lingered heavy in the back of her mind as well. Knowing he was out there somewhere left her with a nagging pull to seek him out; to find the trail he left and follow it.

  They had walked for half the day, each keeping to themselves, when Thom’s voice broke the companionable silence. “I didn’t know you carried a sword.” When she looked over at him, his gaze was fixed at her hip, where the old sword hung.

  “Not normally. It was Garrin’s. And, I guess we can use any help we can get, right?” Looking at his skeptical expression, she chuckled. “I know how to use it, if that’s what you’re afraid of. I’m not the best, but I can manage.”

  “Did Garrin teach you?”

  “Some. My father insisted I have a tutor when I was very young. He always believed that, as a woman, I would have need to protect myself.”

  Stopping abruptly, Mey motioned for Thom to do the same. He was looking at her curiously, perhaps wondering what she was doing. Durlag, trailing with the horses, joined them.

  “Is this camp for the night?” Durlag asked. “We’ve not been gone long, but I’m for setting up and relaxing for the rest o’ the day.”

  “No,” Mey said, shortly. �
�Don’t you smell that?”

  “Smell what? All I can smell is these here horses and the fine aroma in this here flask,” he emphasized this by taking a long drink from it.

  Mey made a full turn, eyes searching the surrounding trees. “Something’s out there.” When her eyes again came to Thom, she stopped. Taking in a long breath through her nose, and letting it slowly out, her eyes narrowed. With her voice barely above a whisper, she told them, “Goblins.”

  Thom’s heart skipped a beat. The light was there, in her eyes, where it hadn’t been only seconds before. It was hauntingly beautiful while hinting at danger. “We keep moving. Steady pace as far as they will let us. We need to find a clearing if there is to be fighting. All these trees will not agree with any magic I would unleash here.”

  Mey nodded, turned and immediately started walking again. Thom watched as her pace quickened. One hand fingered the hilt of the sword hanging from her hip. In the other, there was a dagger.

  He noticed Durlag loosen his hold on the reins and, with a swift movement, unstrapped the big axe across his back and held it over his shoulder. He faced straight ahead, but his eyes searched all around as they moved.

  The trio walked in silence, each one tensed and ready for the slightest advance of the creatures following them. Every few moments, a rustling in the treetops or the sound of a breaking twig underfoot, reminded them that they were not alone here.

  **********

  Up ahead, the road broke out of the trees; Mey could see it not thirty or so paces forward. At that moment, she ducked and rolled as a spear narrowly missed taking off her left ear. Coming up in a crouch, a dagger in each hand, her eyes strained to catch a glimpse of the attacker.

  She sensed the movement of her companions, and knew that Durlag had come forward and Thom had retreated behind them. Thom wore no armor and bore no weapons besides his magic, so it was the best place for him.

  Glancing to her side, she saw that Durlag heaved the great axe before him with both hands. He handled it as if it was a feather and it was strangely graceful to watch. He squared his shoulders and planted his feet, allowing his attackers to come to him. A smile played at his lips.

  “If’n yer comin’, you stinking dogs, COME ON!” Durlag yelled out. As if on cue, a half dozen bug-eyed faces appeared randomly from behind tree trunks and among branches. The yellow eyes glowed from the shadows in the woods. Behind her, Mey heard a small sound escape Thom.

  Instincts took over. She focused on a face close to her and the daggers shot from her hands, soared straight at the slavering mouth and yellow eyes of the goblin. They hit with force and the creature flew back into the trees and landed right between a couple of its friends, daggers protruding from its open mouth and forehead. A beat of silence and then screeching from the small, thin, greenish-grey creatures followed.

  Another pair of daggers had replaced the ones just used in Mey’s hands. The creatures all advanced in a run. Mey had time to let loose another volley. She saw four small streaks of magical light darting toward one of the creatures as she pulled the sword from its place at her hip and readied herself. The crackling projectiles of energy hit a goblin to her left and she could hear the searing noise they made and smell the burning flesh as the creature went down with a scream. Chancing a quick glance over her shoulder, Thom had one hand outstretched and another fumbling within the pouches at his belt. She grinned at him in approval and he merely shrugged as if to say, “It was nothing.”

  She turned her attention back to the rapidly advancing goblins. Their bodies were covered by small cloths that hung limply about the waist. They all carried medium-length spears, with an extra strapped to their backs. It was going to be hard to get close enough to them to use the sword, but she had no time to find a vantage point for throwing daggers.

  From the corner of her eye, she saw Durlag move forward with a speed and grace that surprised her. He swung the great axe over his head in a powerful arc that came down to cleave the spear of the nearest goblin in two. In the next quick motion, reversing his grip and spinning bodily, the axe came around to take the goblin’s head off. As the lifeless body fell to the ground, her fears on having to cover his backside were laid to rest.

  A primal scream took her attention away from the dwarf and back to her own situation. Two of the foul smelling creatures were coming toward her, spears poised for a throw. One let loose with the weapon and it soared dangerously close as she jumped to the side. Mey saw the opening and took it. She ran swiftly at the empty-handed goblin. She brought the sword around and down on its shoulder as it reached for the spear strapped to its back.

  A blood-curdling yowl cut the air, and she barely had time to duck as another spear came at her head from behind. She rolled to the right and sprang back up, bringing a dagger to bear backhanded at the second attacker.

  The steel met little resistance on the soft skin of the goblin and she buried it to its hilt in the creature’s neck. It fell with a thud. She felt a stab of stinging pain in her left leg and spun, drawing another dagger from the bandolier across her chest. Anger flooded her as she realized the first goblin had gotten to his spear and had jabbed her weakly in an attempt to save his friend.

  A guttural growl escaped her lips and shock at her own savage response almost did her in. She heard Thom chanting behind her and a strong gust of enchanted wind knocked the beast to the ground. Mey recovered enough and in time to bring the sword down over her head into the goblin’s chest.

  She realized someone was calling her name. Slowly, everything came into focus. Turning at the sound, she saw Thom. He took a step back when her eyes met his. He hesitated, but then he continued forward.

  “Mey, it’s over. They’re all dead,” he said.

  Looking around her at the bodies of the goblins, she realized what he was saying. The fight was over. Durlag sat by the horses, flask at his lips. He was talking to the animals between sips, soothing their fear. The smell of blood hit her nostrils and she reeled from the impact. The overwhelming urge to pick up the body and rip through it with her teeth almost made her sick.

  She spun away or she would have lost the contents of her stomach. The savage feelings subsided as she gained control of her senses. Big gulps of air helped. What was happening to her?

  Thom broke the silence that had crept up in the aftermath of the battle. “We need to build a fire. Burn these bodies. We’ll have every beast living in these woods after us if we leave them.” He looked over at the dwarf enjoying his after-battle drink. “Durlag, we’ll need firewood. Would you mind?”

  The dwarf grimaced as he stood, belying every move he had made while engaged with the goblins. “Sure, lad,” he managed to get out before he tripped and stumbled. “Firewood.” Repeating this word to himself as he moved on, he made his way into the woods.

  “You’re hurt,” Thom said to her as he turned his attention to her.

  “It’s nothing,” she gasped. “Just a scratch, really. I’ll clean and bandage it.” She sat heavily and was grateful she made it to a seated position before she fell flat on her face.

  **********

  Cool hands were on her face, turning it upward. Lifting her eyes, she saw Thom. “What just happened to me?” Tears pricked the corners of her eyes but she was refusing to let them fall. The last thing she wanted was for him to feel sorry for her.

  Thom reached to push the damp hair from her face just as she pushed herself up and he ended up poking her eye. As she instinctively covered her face, he mumbled an awkward apology, clearly embarrassed. Then he said, “It’s just getting stronger. The dragon blood inside you yearns to be free and to be what it was meant to be. Your elven side fights against it.” He was trying to be reassuring, but he certainly wasn’t very convincing sulking in his embarrassment.

  “Why me? Why now?” The words were meant for her alone, however, they were out of her mouth before she could stop them.

  “I can’t answer all your questions, Mey, but I can tell you what I know. Let’s
get this mess cleaned up, get a camp started and tonight we’ll discuss this further.” Thom busied himself with unburdening the horses of their loads and finding a spot for the animals to graze. Mey watched him until he turned to her. “Are you going to help or just daydream?”

  She found herself smiling at him. “I’m on it.” She went toward the closest body with the intent of lessoning its load into the afterworld.

  SIX

  After having created a makeshift pyre for the goblins and bandaging Mey’s leg, the three of them sat around a small campfire. Durlag cradled his flask as if it were a precious child. Mey and Thom moved themselves to a position at the edge of the firelight, watching the night for any signs of more ‘visitors.’

  Thom was bringing her up to speed on the nature of dragons as he had read it through the histories. “Will the dragon blood overtake the elven?” Mey asked him.

  “I don’t know the answer to that. No one has ever encountered a half-breed before. You are the only one. The Mage’s Circle knows that Tanahil chose to stay in mortal form with her elven lover and they married. There was only one child. Tanahil died in childbirth. The child was raised away from the elves for fear of retribution.”

  “Yes, it is frowned upon to seek love outside the race. They view it as contamination,” Mey remarked. The pain she felt surely must have shown on her face before she could hide it. “My father never spoke of my mother.” There was a long silence. “So, Tanahil was my mother.” It was more a statement than a question.

  “She was,” Thom answered. “Elves are a very long-lived race and dragons are practically immortal. The histories tell us that your mother and father lived many long, happy years together. They spent four hundred years mending the land and the people of Cantor after the devastation of the last Dragon Wars. And then they were blessed with a life of their own. You were born to them.”