The Gems of Raga-Tor (Elemental Legends Book 1)

by CA Morgan

  Hearing the faint sound, Raga released the veils and they fell in a colored whisper to the floor. He caused the music to stop and the girl sank down tiredly.

  “That was very nice, my girl,” Raga complimented, and helped her to her feet. “Here is a silver for your lovely dance.”

  The girl looked quizzically at him. “But I thought you wanted me for the afternoon?”

  “Perhaps later. My musician grows restless and your assumption about him is correct,” Raga explained.

  “Oh,” the girl whispered and quickly gathered up her costume and wrapped the veils around her slender body. She looked fearfully toward the darker side of the room. “Do you think he’ll attack me?”

  He smiled at her gently and brushed back a wisp of silky hair. A thought entered his mind, but he let it go.

  “Oh, no. I keep him chained to a peg in the floor,” Raga said and almost laughed thinking of the pout that probably creased Eris’ womanly face.

  Without another word, the girl fled the room. Raga closed the door. The old trunk groaned as his significant weight settled on the lid.

  “She’s gone, Eris. Now, let’s see what you’ve become.”

  Eris quipped, “Would you like me chains and all?”

  “You have a very nice voice,” Raga commented, hearing a rich, euphonic sound.

  Eris stood up slowly and stretched. His now slimmer torso allowed his breaches to slide to the floor. He didn’t like this idea at all. He was totally at the mercy of this man, this sorcerer, who sat across the room. It would be nothing for Raga to overpower him in this state. There was nothing to do now but get the inspection over with.

  Feeling more than a little peculiar, a horse fair or a slave market coming to mind, Eris stepped from behind the divider. He walked quite unladylike into the light, stopped and faced Raga with fists firmly planted on well-rounded hips.

  Raga, for the first time in as long as he could remember, was speechless. And for a sorcerer of the Red Vale, a long time was indeed a long time.

  “Well?” Eris demanded impatiently. There was no doubt as to the forthcoming answer. It was written all over the red-beard’s face.

  Raga swallowed hard.

  “Eris, you are….you are—no offense—quite the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” Raga mumbled. His eyes once again looked Eris from head to foot and back again. “None of Charra-Tir’s other victims ever looked like this. Of course they didn’t have as much to start with either.”

  Because of his height, Eris was tall for a woman. His body was a sensuous dream made flesh: curved and voluptuous with an underlying sinewy strength. Beneath the smooth olive skin of shoulders and thighs, muscle moved like living steel. His face was heart-shaped, with high cheeks and a full, inviting smile—a pout at the moment. He was possessed of a face of cold arrogance that only the most beautiful of women could command. His eyes were green, even unnaturally so, and thick, black hair fell in wavy patterns to his waist. Not even the gods themselves could improve on this.

  “Don’t get any ideas,” Eris warned, understanding the look on Raga’s face. “I’m almost afraid to hear what you have to tell me about this plan of yours. By that silly look that won’t leave your face, I assume I’ve passed the test.”

  “You far surpass anything I could have imagined. I wouldn’t even mind if you stayed that way for a week—or two,” Raga said appreciatively, lustfully. His eyes unabashedly devoured Eris one curve after the other.

  “Shut up, Raga,” Eris snapped. “You make me sick. Now get that stupid look off your face and help me find something to wear. The clothes I have for this condition are being laundered.”

  “Your wish is my staggering desire,” Raga teased and inclined his head, but failed to produce a garment.

  Eris frowned and crossed his arms over his chest. Instantly, he realized that was the wrong thing for a woman like him to do. Raga’s eyes twinkled like fireflies.

  “You bastard,” Eris cursed and went to sit on the edge of the bed. He grabbed up the shirt he had tossed there and pulled it on. It covered him well enough and would keep Raga from staring at him.

  From a saddle bag on the floor he took out a whetstone, rag, and a small vial of oil and put them on the bed and then began tending to his brine-bathed sword—a task he should have seen to the night before. He defied Raga to speak as he moved the whetstone down the length of the blade with a kind of determination.

  “Are you going to explain this little plot to me, or are there more tests you want me to pass?’ Eris asked curtly.

  Raga seemed to ponder something as he scratched the beard under his chin.

  “There is one more thing I need to know,” he said finally. “What happens to you, as a woman, when you… uh… well. . .”

  Raga let his words trail off.

  Eris exploded. He leapt from the bed with oily sword in hand.

  “You cunning bastard! If you think for one moment you’re going to lay a hand on me—just try.” The sword’s point suddenly rested heavily against Raga’s broad chest. “You think this is funny. I don’t. I know what you’re thinking. I know damned well what you’re thinking. I’m a man, remember? How do you think I feel exhibiting myself like some slave girl on the auctioneer’s block? Do you think I’m here to act the whore for your pleasure?”

  “Will you stop screeching and listen,” Raga interrupted. “I believe you know the red stone is in Reshan, but do you know exactly where?”

  Eris looked at Raga guardedly for a moment, then spoke, “From the information I’ve managed to gather, the Sultan of Reshan has it. A merchant presented it to him in return for a year of tariff-free trade.”

  “I’ve heard the same. That’s a good sign. And how were you going to get it?”

  “I wasn’t going to plan anything until I got to Reshan and had a look at the palace. Then, I’ll probably sneak in and steal it from his treasure room.”

  “Have you ever been to Reshan?”

  “No. The caravans I ride with tend to avoid the place.”

  “I thought not. No one has ever taken anything from that palace and lived.”

  “The guards are that good? Are they above being bribed, or killed?” Eris asked. The blade still pressed against Raga’s chest.

  “No. Everything is ensorcelled. Take anything from the palace and you’ll be afflicted with such insanity that you’ll tear your own throat out. I’ve seen it happen.”

  Eris frowned. “I should have guessed as much. So what does that have to do with my ability, or inability, in someone’s bed?”

  “Because I was thinking that if the Sultan gave you the gem, and then you left with it, the protection spell wouldn’t kill you, because he gave it to you.”

  Eris laughed, but he was far from amused. His voice dripped sarcasm.

  “What am I supposed to do? Wink at the Sultan and hope he’ll hand over the gem for a moment’s flirtation. Or better yet, ask him if I might purchase it with my paltry bag of gold so I can adorn my lovely neck?”

  “No. He’s going to give it to you, because you are going to be chosen as the new flower for his seraglio. You will become, briefly, his new bride. This means that he might very well desire you for his bed before the nuptial ceremony has actually been performed. I’ve heard that the stone has been set into a necklace to be given to the lucky woman,” Raga explained.

  “A bride! This is absurd. If you think for one moment that I’m going to prostitute myself for this Sultan——gods! The thought makes me sick,” Eris argued. The sword pressed more firmly against Raga’s chest. “I ought to roll your head into the gutter. I’ll wait until his new wench is carried on her palanquin through the city, and then I’ll rip it from her neck. I’ve escaped from city guards many times before.”

  “But,” Raga said, trying unsuccessfully to push away the pressing blade, “it will still be palace property. You will die.”

  “Maybe, and maybe not. The spell on the green gem isn’t working in my presence, and chances are
that one won’t either. I really don’t think you know what will happen. The gods know I don’t. I thought you devils from the Red Vale knew all the rules of spell making.” He pressed the blade ever so slightly more.

  “It’s not the spell of a Red Vale sorcerer. I can’t guarantee it,” Raga defended. “You’re still trapped in a corner. It could be months before the wench is allowed into the streets, and who knows if she’d wear such a gem in public. Do it my way and you would only have to stay in the seraglio until the Sultan gave you the gem, then make your escape. It could be only a matter of days. I can forge a mind-bond between us, and then I’ll be able to know how to help you whenever and wherever.”

  Damn him. The man was determined to draw him further into the realm of vile sorcery; into obscene plots that made him consider, yet only for a moment, of throwing himself on his sword and ending it all, but the driving desire for revenge stayed his hand. Besides, his conceit told him, the world yet had need of a man of his abilities.

  To Riza’s hell with all of this. Was he that much a coward to not at least attempt this bizarre scheme? Raga, he conceded, was right on one point. The tedious boredom of waiting days, or months, for the new bride to appear in the streets would allow him time to become involved in some other unwanted perversion.

  “You win, old man,” Eris said grudgingly. “I can’t argue with your logic—what there is of it. Nor, at this moment can I think of anything better.”

  “Eris, this sword of yours is becoming quite uncomfortable,” Raga complained. “Would you please remove it?”

  “Just remember what it feels like, because if you get me killed in this crazy scheme of yours, my shade will follow you even unto the Red Vale and carve out your black heart,” Eris vowed. With his free hand, he pushed back a thick strand of ebony hair over his shoulder.

  “In jeopardizing you, I defeat myself. Truly, Eris, I want to be your friend. And, being the sorcerer I am, I really have been most patient with you. If I know Charra-Tir, she never gave you even half the chances I have,” Raga-Tor said truthfully and spread his arms.

  “Aye, sorcerer,” Eris agreed as another wave of exhaustion swept over him. He crossed the room, tossed the blade on the bed and slumped down. He was so tired. “This is insanity,” he sighed quietly. The beautiful voice had lost all of its rough edges. “What makes you so sure this Sultan will choose me? There will be slavers, merchants and nobles all trying to provide the perfect woman. We may not even get to Reshan in time to even be included.”

  Raga smiled briefly and rose to his feet.

  “Don’t worry, we’ll get there. As for him choosing you, I have no doubt. When you see yourself in a full looking glass, you’ll understand. If that’s not enough, well, I’m not completely without power,” Raga said as he gathered up his bow. “What more do we need?”

  “A little sleep might be nice.” Eris yawned. His eyes drooped.

  “I’ve already taken care of that.”

  Eris whispered, “Damn you, Raga. Are you the cause of this heaviness in my head?”

  “Believe me, you need it. You’ll feel quite well in the morning. By the way, I can’t seem to sense the power of the green jewel. You didn’t lose it did you?” Raga asked concerned.

  Good. Eris smiled. The spell he had traded something quite valuable for was working perfectly. It was a spell that would hide and protect the gem from the probing magics of any sorcerer, and from the eyes of all men except himself. As much as he loathed sorcery, in this instance, it turned out to be a necessary evil.

  “No, I didn’t lose it. It’s quite safe. Trust me, Raga, trust me,” Eris assured, giving Raga a most beguiling smile, though he wasn’t aware that he had done so.

  Raga nodded and pulled the door open to return to his own room which was only a few doors away.

  “You know, it really is too bad it’s you inside that incredible body,” he sighed with a wink. “I really would like to find out what happens.”

  Eris grabbed one of the daggers lying on top of the blanket. Raga rumbled with laughter and pulled the door shut just as the hurled weapon flew by.

  It struck the wall, hung for a few quivering seconds, and then fell to the floor with a heavy clatter.

  “Damn you,” Eris mumbled hazily and fell back onto thick pillows that materialized behind him. Hearing Raga’s laughter echoing in the hall, Eris was compelled into a deep, dreamless sleep.

  Chapter 2

  The Road to Reshan

  Along the high plateau of the Rennas Escarpment stretched a wide, and for the lateness of the year, nearly deserted road that connected the northern most edge of the Isthmus of Magir to the continent.

  It was the fastest north-south route into and out of the port city of Rennas Baye, and the great bay that was the size of an inland sea, owing to the leagues of flat, desolate gray rock that formed the road across the escarpment. Except for a few scrubby pines growing in strangled stands, or a blade of grass peeking up through the fissure of a rock, the plateau was mostly void of plant and animal life.

  Now that summer was ended, the chill autumn winds began their whirling in mid-afternoon and continued through the night. In the early days of winter, only those whose wagons were light dared to cross the barren plateau where sudden, freezing black storms reigned; when the wind howled and sleet scoured all traces of summer passages from the rocky face.

  Eris and Raga, cloaked against the chill wind, rode swiftly across the plateau in an effort to reach the downside forest by nightfall.

  The forceful winds suddenly died down across the escarpment. Both felt as if a great burden lifted from their shoulders. Their ears rang in the sudden, overpowering stillness.

  Raga felt a certain tenseness leave him and adjusted himself in the saddle before turning his attention to Eris.

  “It’s five hundred leagues to Reshan’s capital city, you know.”

  Eris inclined his head, but didn't speak.

  “Five hundred leagues is a long way to go, and even more so if I have to talk to myself the whole way. It’s been two days now since we left Rennas Baye and you’ve hardly said a word.”

  Eris pulled a small, sharp knife from a sheath concealed within his saddle. “You should have thought of that before you did what you did,”

  “So what would you have me do? Apologize all the way to Reshan?” Raga asked. “I thought a little sleep would do you good.”

  “A little sleep I might have overlooked.” Eris pointed the blade at Raga. “But, Verin’s eyes, you put me to sleep for two days. I thought we needed to hurry. How do I know what chicanery you were up to?”

  “I thought if you woke up as a man again you might be in better humor. Obviously, I was wrong.”

  Eris glared at him.

  “Believe me, I did nothing but make preparations. I only used the gold you took from that bastard on the wharf, and not even all of that. I didn’t touch your things, or come near you. You saw that much when you awoke,” Raga explained truthfully.

  “So you say. On your honor, no tricks?” Eris rubbed a hand across his chin. A shave was definitely in order. That was a stupid question. None of them have any honor.

  “You have my word. Besides, in a strange way, it even helped to save and further your reputation. Which, as you well know, was becoming suspect.”

  “How so?”

  “Well, the next morning Kaitay came into your room and saw you there as…as Erisa. How’s that for your female name?”

  “Don’t get used to it.”

  Raga grinned. “And what a flurry of jealous gossip flew about that inn for half a day. Even your friend, Raj, stuck his head in to see what all the fuss was about. He knows a good thing when he sees it,” Raga explained, with a wink.

  “My point exactly. Anything could have happened with all those people poking about.”

  “Do you think after putting up with you long enough to convince you to come with me, I was going to let something happen to you. By the time they returned, I had put a littl
e illusion spell around you so they thought you were gone,” Raga said.

  “That’s it?”

  “That’s it.”

  “Fine. I'll accept what you say. But don’t ever do anything like that again, unless you tell me first and even then, I’d sooner tell you to go to hell,” Eris said as he brought the small blade close to his neck.

  “What are you doing?” Perplexed, Raga watched Eris drop his head back.

  “Shaving.”

  “Are you crazy? You’re riding a horse. You’re going to slice your neck wide open. How am I going to get my gems back if you slip and kill yourself?” Raga suddenly felt an irresistible urge to scratch the beard covering his throat. “Why can’t you wait till later when maybe you’ll have water and soap? That blade isn’t even close to a decent razor.”

  Smoothly, Eris made the last pass up the side of his neck. With three quick flicks of his wrist he removed the stubble from under his chin. He turned to Raga with the particularly disarming smile that was unique to him and said, “Calm down, sorcerer. I’ve been doing this for a long time. A soldier doesn’t always have the time, or the luxury, of soap and water to get the job done.”

  He started on one cheek.

  “Neither does a scoundrel on the run,” Raga quipped. Nervously, his eyes followed each quick stroke. “What if your horse trips? If you don’t want a beard, though I can’t see why not, then how about a little spell to—”

  “No! I do just fine on my own,” Eris interrupted, touching up a spot or two he missed. “Look at my face. Do you see any scars?”

  “No, but—”

  “Of course not. I never slip. And if the horse stumbles…”

  Eris let the explanation hang. He spread out his empty palms. The tiny blade had disappeared back into the saddle.

  Raga frowned. “That still doesn’t mean it can’t happen."

  “Then worry about it when it happens.” Eris squeezed his mount’s sides. The horse sprang forward eager to run. “Come on, Raga,” he shouted over his shoulder. “Give that nag of yours some oats and let’s be off this rock before the wind blows again.”