“What will Vilheim do after he repairs the Seeps?” asked Maerek.
“I do not know.”
“Moving Mountain would,” Maerek thought. “Focus on the problem.” The death of Erith, and whomever the other servant was, would mean the end of Vilheim. Even though Vilheim led him to Mearto, and to the Seer, something inside him, some base instinct screamed that he could not be trusted. Maerek clenched his right fist, still gripping the razor-sharp blade, tainted blood spread thinly across the edge.
“You will not kill me as you have the Seer or Simmons.” Erith gripped his staff with both hands and held it pointed out toward Maerek. As he spoke, Maerek felt a sudden tension shoot through his body, attempting to freeze him in place. Maerek hissed through his mouth, jaw clamped shut by some unseen force. Erith slowly, and this time with purposeful caution, approached the dragon. Maerek bulged and tensed each muscle, pressing forward, sword outstretched, ready to lunge. He pushed ahead, his breathing heavy. Sweat started to bead on Erith’s brow, showing signs of physical strain.
Then in an instant, Maerek broke through the binding force, and like a tightened spring, shot forward. The sword sliced across Erith’s ribcage, missing its mark as Erith dodged left. Maerek spun and reached for the Conduit and caught him by his tattered robe. He yanked on the cloth, but it tore free. Erith raised his staff and pointed it again at Maerek. Again, the binding force was on him, and Maerek let out a muffled scream as he pushed against it. Slowly, one leg lifted, and then the other. Erith’s eyes went wide as he took a step back, staff still pointed at the dragon. Maerek’s growing rage was pushing against the Conduit’s will, and the force would break sooner this time. In one last push of strength, Maerek launched against it, and broke free. Erith back peddled, and swung his staff at Maerek, launching a fire ball which collided with Maerek’s shoulder.
Maerek continued his leap, sword forward. His eyes locked on Erith, ignoring the burning on his shoulder. Erith fell backwards and Maerek was on him in one second, the sword lunging for the throat, and the next second, Maerek flipped over and landed squarely on his back, wind knocked out of him. Erith had carried the momentum from the attack and used it to propel the dragon over him. Erith got up quickly and ran back to the head of the Seer, swooping it up into his arm in a quick motion. Maerek rolled, the fire now gone from his shoulder and then stood, clutching the blade. He struggled to breathe at first, but the air came eventually in slow, painful increments.
“What will you be needing it for?” Maerek asked between painful breaths.
“That is none of your concern. You are running out of time. Either yield to me, or you, the traders, and the nomads they travel with will all die.” Again, Erith held out his staff. Maerek shook his head and held the sword in front of him. He had to get Erith close enough to grab onto him and then perhaps kill him. Maerek assumed that he hadn’t seen all of Erith’s capabilities, and for the first time wondered if he could him.
Erith shook his head, and then tapped his staff on the ground twice. Instantly, the whole staff erupted in a red flame that dripped from the wood like thick oil. He then pointed the staff at the tavern.
“You will fight to the death to protect that which you think is right. Will you yield for them?” The liquid-like flames dripped from the horizontal staff, and seeming to have a life of their own, rolled their way slowly toward the dried out, flaking exterior of the tavern. A sudden wind whisked through the alley, pushing the flames ever closer.
“You act wisely not to strike,” Erith said quietly. Maerek flared his scent hard, filling the alley way with his musk. Erith sniffed the air and smiled. “I will honor our agreement not to kill those of your kind.” The door opened to the tavern and Mearto stepped out into the alley way. She looked at Maerek first, concerned, and followed his glare toward Erith. The door had not yet shut, and she placed her head just inside the door.
“Yeah, it’s just as I thought, he isn’t doing well,” she called out to the owner. “The knife must’ve shook ‘im up a bit. I’ll be in with ‘im for a while and then I’ll take ‘im to the apothecary. See if we can get ‘im somethin’ for his nerves.” She shut the door and stepped into the alley, placing a hand on Maerek shoulder but still looking at Erith.
“I’m not one of them,” Maerek told her, still holding the bloodied sword. “This is butchering, madness-”
“It is self-preservation,” Mearto interrupted softly, walking in front of Maerek, her knife held cautiously in a reverse grip, the blade running up her forearm. “Do you have the strength to do that which is required? We will never be able to live the same way we did then. Things have changed Maerek, and there is no going back. You need to realize that.” Maerek gripped the handle of the sword firmly and nodded.
“I understand,” Maerek replied.
“Mother,” Erith said as he bowed slightly. Mearto, stopped, and turned slowly to see Erith in his bow. She gave a slight nod of her head in return and saw the gore in the alleyway, Erith still carefully holding the head of the Seer.
“You have retrieved what you were looking for.” It was a calm statement, not a question. She took a deep breath and let out a small stream of white smoke from her nose. “It makes sense now.”
“I have made an oath not to kill your kind.”
“A vague promise for you to make. Yet it does not mean that you will not hunt us or seek out our kind. Will you seek…?” Mearto paused again, and then her visage changed from one of subtle dislike and bitterness, to one of vengeful, seething hatred. “Your oath is worthless to us.” She waved a hand fiercely over the Seer’s body, and with the motion, flesh and bone dissolved instantly into sand. It was then that Erith started to run. Mearto chased after him and Maerek quickly followed.
“Stay here,” Mearto ordered, stopping and turning toward Maerek, placing a hand on his chest.
“I made a promise to protect you,” Maerek replied.
“You’ll need to be strong… from a distance, to distract him. He will try to and can kill you. Leave the sword behind.” Mearto carefully took the sword and set it in a narrow space between Kelp’s Katch and the next building over. Next, she waved her hand over the sword, and it slowly faded into the shadow, and then completely disappeared.
“It will be there when we get back,” Mearto said, making a mark in the light dusting of sand with her foot.
Together, the dragons ran out of the alley, and toward Erith. Mearto’s sudden change in demeanor to her former student, to the man that called her “mother”, put Maerek on edge. There was something else, something Maerek didn’t see, or didn’t understand that was done that filled Mearto with sudden rage. Maerek growled as they ran, turning the events over and over again in his mind.
“Why does he want the head?”
“Not now, Maerek. We need to flush him out, get him out of the city!”
To Maerek, Erith’s scent and the head of the Seer tasted like fear and blood. Every turn, every street, every open road, everywhere Erith ran, the air was rank with that smell. It poured over the damp aroma of human refuse, sweat, and ocean breeze, and sat at the back of Maerek’s throat. Mentally mapping out the path they ran, Maerek knew that Erith was trying to throw them off while trying to make it to the city gates.
Maerek could feel the untapped strength within him waiting to be released. He could use that strength, rush ahead and catch Erith, beat him, hurt him, and Mearto could finish him off, make him speak of Vilheim’s plan. Beyond that urge came more question. The gates would all be sealed, and any cognizant guard would be hesitant to open a gate for an obvious sign of trouble. How were they going to get out?
CHAPTER 22
Erith changed his direction and made a straight run toward the main gate of the city. Even as a Conduit, any attempt at an exit would be seen with some tumultuousness, or so Maerek thought.
As they neared the gate, the guards turned toward them and raised their bows with an arrow knocked and pulled strings. Before they could say a word, Erith wa
ved his staff in a long arching circle, and each of the guards collapsed. Whether or not they were dead, Maerek wasn’t sure. Then, as Erith reached the wall, he swung his staff down and then up. A force propelled him up an over the wall.
Mearto breathed deeply, and exhaled through her nose, grey jets of smoke flowing out and engulfing her figure. Maerek followed suit, changing back into his true shape.
The smoke surrounded them both, and once in their form, made one clean jump up and over the city wall, tails just clearing the roofs of the gate houses.
Erith ran ahead kicking up sand from his running leaving a floating trail in the air. Mearto growled slightly and now gave full chase. She tore up the ground veraciously, sharp claws digging deep into the ground, throwing back mounds of sand. She kept her wings tucked close by her sides and her tail stretched straight behind her.
Maerek leapt into the air and flew above and to Mearto’s right, keeping her in his peripheral vision, while staying focused on Erith. The light from the city shed only slightly out into the desert, and the moon shone enough light to see the smirk on Erith’s face as they chased him. After a few seconds, the dragon’s caught up to him and began to circle around him, Maerek from above and Mearto from below.
Suddenly, Erith spun on his heels, sliding to a stop and launched a jet of liquid flame over at Maerek. Maerek banked hard and spun upwards and returned with a fire of his own. Erith brought his staff in front of him just before the fire ball made contact. It exploded around him, and then disintegrated, puddles of fire burning on the sand. Maerek snarled and dove down, just as Mearto was coming in from the side.
Mearto signaled him to bank left with her tail, and Maerek did so just as Erith shot another jet of fire back at him. The distraction was enough. Mearto shot her claw forward, sending bolt of lightning. It popped and hissed as it hit Erith. Erith flew backward but recovered and landed on his feet. The lighting stayed on and in Erith, burning into his chest, zapping and setting his clothe on fire. With a groan, he reached forward and grabbed the bolt, and pushed it away.
Maerek stayed focused on Erith as he continued his turn back toward the fight but noticed that they were being surrounded by a growing sandstorm. Erith turned with his staff and an immense weight slammed down on Maerek. Maerek shunted down to the ground with a thud but stood easily. As the storm closed in, the only light came from the still festering pools of Maerek’s fire in the sand around them.
Maerek charged forward as Mearto jumped and took to the sky, sending down her own, well aimed blasts of flame. Erith dodged as best he could, but one of the blasts caught him on his leg and rocked him backwards. He fell on his back and rolled to stand but was too slow. Just as he got to his feet, Maerek spun next to him and slammed his tail into Erith’s back, sending him up and toward Mearto.
Mearto opened her mouth and growled, emitting some force that stopped Erith midair and held him tight. The growl grew to a roar and the force grew larger and larger, pushing against the sand storm, against the fire, upward and outwards, revealing the starlit sky. Erith was frozen in place, grimacing and holding tight to his crimson staff with both hands.
Erith contorted his face as if lifting a heavy weight, trying to push back against the growing pressure. Mearto landed softly, breathed in, and pointed one finger at Erith. His arms and legs went rigid and tight to his sides and Mearto moved him closer to the two dragons.
Sweat poured down Erith’s face, dripping and leaving a distinct drop trail in the white sand. Erith scowled, the amber color in his eyes flaring as he tried to push against the force that compressed him.
“Eyes just like your father,” she said. “Who else has he bound to him?”
“My oath still stands,” Erith wheezed. The force had pressed against him and constricted, slowly cutting off his air supply. “Let me go, and I will not kill or hunt your kind.” Mearto clenched her hand into a fist and Erith gasped as more air was forced out of him.
“Your oath is worthless to me. I know what you seek, and you will not have it.” She squeezed her fist, joints in her claw popping from the flexed muscles. Erith yowled in pain as his ribs cracked even further. His leg, though broken just moments before, had already mended and left no scar. Erith’s bones cracked audibly and darkened blood squeezed out of fresh wounds.
“Answer me!” she yelled again. “Who else has Vilheim bound to him?”
“There are others,” Erith wheezed and then breathed as Mearto released some of the pressure. “The remaining governing council is bound to him, as well as one other… a wolf. You know of him.”
Mearto let out a low, rolling growl. She shook her head as if to rid herself of some bad memory and the stared straight at Erith.
“What is Vilheim’s aim?”
“To repair and reclaim the earth from itself. He will become a god, much like the heathen idols worshipped in Caite, but he would be real, tangible, with power.”
“What would be your repayment?” Mearto clenched her fist and Erith groaned again. Mearto heard something within that groan and cocked her head and leaned in toward her floating prey. “There is something… different about you now.”
“You... cannot... break me,” Erith said between belabored breaths, and then started to laugh like a dying man. “The payment has already been made.”
Mearto squeezed again, wrapping her other hand around her already clenched fist. She let out a low bellow, elbows, shoulders and neck joints cracking from the physical strain. Try as she might, Erith slowly pushed against her force, pushing out his arms and legs, and raising his staff above his head. As he moved, Mearto’s hands opened and spread apart. Maerek could see that she was losing control of her prey. She needed a distraction.
Maerek rushed and jumped toward Erith, clipping him midair with an outstretched wing. Erith crumpled over Maerek’s wing and was shunted toward the ground. Erith didn’t recover and sent up a small cloud of sand on impact. It was enough of a distraction and Maerek dashed away from Erith as soon as he landed.
But Mearto stayed still. Maerek said nothing. He watched her belabored breathing, opened mouth and the slightest hiss with every exhale, tensed and flexed muscles easing back into a more natural state. He looked over at Erith who was severely weakened, but not yet dead. His breathing was wet and raspy. He coughed twice, blood spraying up in the night and then raining back on his scarred face. Maerek slowly approached, filling his mouth with combustible saliva.
“Don’t,” Mearto warned. Maerek swallowed his spit and stood still.
“He is close to death, one more stroke will end him.”
“No,” Mearto sniffed the air and then let out a long, low hum that rattled the loose sand around her. “He is as far from death as you and I are. The theatrics are nothing more than a lure. See, look, he is already standing and healed.”
Erith was now standing holding his staff listlessly out to one side. Though he was breathing heavy, it seemed the type of breathing after extreme physical exertion instead of sever injury.
“I will not to hunt or kill your kind. And if that oath is broken, my life will be in your hands.”
“Why don’t you kill us both now?” Maerek yelled back.
Erith smiled, and then slammed his staff into the ground. Bright green flares raced around him and then up into the night sky, exploding into white bursts and falling like molten metal. Both dragons raised their wings over their heads, shielding their eyes from the sudden day-like brightness. Slowly, the flares began to turn on a wind, gravitating around Maerek. Then, all at once, the flares in the sky sped toward Maerek.
Before Mearto could warn him, the flares smashed onto his scales like hail, instantly catching fire, and growing. Flare after flare struck the dragon, pummeling him to the ground. The green fire roared and grew brighter. Maerek howled and then screamed in pain as the fire grew across his back and onto his wings.
Mearto jumped into the air, circling above him and away from the flares. The wind was starting to pick up, and Mearto found
a spot just above Maerek where she could hover. Maerek looked up at her, her teal scales shimmering violently in the firelight. It hurt to breath, it hurt to move. Another barrage of flares hit. Maerek grimaced, clenching his eyes shut, and shouted again, his legs and wings trembling from pain. Then, there was second wave of heat, a second burning, more intense than the flares. Maerek opened his eyes and saw Mearto, breathing fire down on him. But the dragon fire wasn’t adding to the fire, rather, slowly, it was burning out the green flares. The pain and burning began to lessen. Maerek felt that he could move again, slowly tucking his wings into his sides and kicking sand up on his arms and legs.
After a few moments, the fire was out, and the dragons were left in a sudden quiet. Maerek breathed heavily, trying mentally to block out the pain and listen for Erith.
He was gone. The only sound or scent around them was of loose sand racing toward them on a fast wind, and the smell of burnt dragon scales. With each passing moment, the wind grew louder and more powerful, whipping the sand up into a cloud around them.
“Will Erith return?” Maerek shouted above the howling wind. Mearto didn’t reply at first but looked upwards.
“He has summoned this storm, and I cannot break it. He will not return.” Mearto cried out. The wind was now blowing so ferociously that it rattled the leathery membrane of their wings like a stiff flag. “I am going to create a gap, and it will last for only a moment. When it opens, we need to fly out and get above the storm.”
Maerek nodded, bowing his head low to the female. Mearto turned her back to the wind, inhaled deeply and let out a long, rumbling roar that shook the ground and reverberated in Maerek’s chest. As the roar went on, the wind around them quickly died down and a gap in the storm appeared above them, showing the silver starlight.
A Dragon's Betrayal Page 26
