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

by CA Morgan

  “Give me a day...or two,” Eris whispered.

  “Tomorrow is the last day. We don’t have time to wait out your binge. Maybe a glass or two of herbed water? You’ve had that before haven’t you?” Raga asked.

  The thought of that particular water only made him want to wretch again. It had never made him feel any better, only worse, and he suddenly felt terribly thirsty.

  “Don’t bother. It would just come back up. I need...water,” Eris said weakly and pulled himself to the edge of the bed. He just wanted water.

  “I don’t think you should get up. You look awful,” Raga said, and moved aside as Eris pushed weakly against him. Anxious concern lined the sorcerer’s face.

  “I feel awful. If I live, I will surprise myself,” Eris said, rolling off the bed to land on his hands and knees. “Just...water.”

  Sickness swept over him. His head spun furiously, pounding, and a new layer of sweat welled up on his face. The long strands of damp hair wrapped around his neck, tight and clinging, making him feel strangulated and suffocated at the same time.

  He crawled to the bed’s nearest poster and pulled himself upright and stood. Feverish nausea overwhelmed him. The sickness constricted his throat. His vision faded to black around the edges and he wavered on trembling legs. He would have collapsed to the floor, but Raga’s bearish embrace caught him under the arms. Raga picked him up and laid him gently back on the bed. Eris sighed and went completely limp. He was drained not only of his physical strength, but also of his will.

  “Stay in bed while I try to think of something else. I’ll bring you some water, but it will probably just come up again,” Raga told him. The sorcerer frowned as he paced the length of the room several times and forgot completely about the water. He was not well versed in the healing arts and wasn’t exactly sure where to begin. But, he sighed inwardly, he would just have to blunder ahead and think of something. It was his usual way.

  “Raga,” Eris said at length, “do what you must.”

  The words nearly choked him. There would be more spells.

  “No, I’ll think of something,” Raga said, coming to the edge of the bed. Eris looked even more pallid than before.

  Eris’ eyes fluttered open. The suffering Raga saw there was intense. There was something more than drunkenness in them, but what it was, he had no idea. Eris’ full, sensuous lips were drawn thin and he bit his lower lip as if to guard against another spasm of gagging.

  “Do it, or run a dagger through me. I’m dying anyway,” Eris pleaded. The soft voice of Erisa trembled from pain, from a sickness he had never felt before. He turned his face to the wall. All of his sensibilities recoiled at what he had just done; begged the favor, the mercy, of a sorcerer. There was desperation in that plea and Raga sensed it.

  Raga pulled a chair next to the bed and sat down. He turned Eris’ head back toward himself and gently placed a large hand on his forehead.

  “Don’t worry, this shouldn’t take long. Try to relax,” Raga suggested, calmly, while his mind frantically sought to remember any remedy he had seen another elemental work on a mortal. Killing them was easy enough, but healing one was altogether different.

  Eris needed no encouragement to relax. As it was, he could barely lift his hands to his throat to pull his tunic open in the hope of being able to breathe more easily.

  Raga closed his eyes and allowed his sensitivities and perceptions to heighten until he became fully aware of both himself and Eris. In himself, Raga felt nothing but strength and vitality; a good thing, because he was sure he would have to call upon that store of power to heal Eris.

  Next, he let his senses sweep across Eris. Raga’s face wrinkled with puzzlement. He was more than amazed to find that Eris was too correct in his assumptions. He truly was standing just outside death’s door. Why, he couldn’t tell. Something wasn’t right. Yet what was right for a mortal man compared to an elemental, he could only guess.

  Then, in that same place of Eris’ consciousness Raga felt another presence familiar to him: that of Riza, demon lord of the fiery pits. Raga was even more puzzled. Eris was not the most gentle of souls, admitted, but not so corrupt as to warrant the attention of that particular dark lord. It was not time to question and Raga continued his probing. It was then he found the problem. Buried deep in Eris’ consciousness was a devious, clever little trap set by Charra-Tir’s spell.

  The very essence of Eris’ life force winked and twinkled in the dark void between life and death. It moved and writhed as if trapped inside an invisible sphere. As Raga’s own powerful presence approached, the essence calmed and took the shape of an orb. Its blue-green light dimmed and pulsed with a steady beat like a heart. Then suddenly, angry blue light flashed and the green became as bolts of lightning. Oh how clever Charra-Tir is, Raga thought, exploring the little trap that kept the life-saving essences from Eris.

  During the sudden, convulsive change, the essence was forcibly stripped from him. He would die a slow physical death, but one filled with anguish as the mind and body sought to collect itself into one place; to be made whole for the final journey into the darkness. Eris only knew that something was terribly wrong.

  It was an insidious trap sprung simply by an inordinate amount of alcohol and the sudden passions that triggered the curse. The mind, already disassociated with the body by the alcohol’s effect, was easily confused and thus the metamorphosis worked exceedingly fast with deadly purpose.

  Completing his inspection of the snare, Raga now understood why so many men he had followed in the past had died quite unexpectedly after a good sousing at the local tavern.

  So as not to overwhelm Eris’ mind, Raga slowly released the entrapment spell. The green lightning flashed brightly filling the void with light. A barrier of red fire kept the blue at bay while the slower moving green light flowed like water through the barrier toward Eris. Raga felt Eris’ life force increase. Slowly, the sorcerer made the red barrier smaller and smaller as blue spikes of energy shot around the edges to rejoin the body.

  Unfortunately, as Raga felt the essences begin to balance, he realized the inebriation remained as strong as before. For once during their strained union, Raga was glad for Eris’ strong physical strength and mental capacity. Considering the overwhelming effects of the trap, any other man would already be dead.

  Raga didn’t look forward to curing the drunkenness. It was something he did know how to do as the elementals sometimes had to do it with each other. Other than the herb water, there was only one way to treat it, and that was to share the burden of the binge, and he had never been able to hold mortal-made alcohol at all.

  Plunging ahead once more, Raga willed half the effects of the alcohol into his own body and nearly lost his concentration. Instantly, his head spun and queasiness assaulted his stomach. He decided right then that he would never, not even on a bet, challenge Eris to a drinking contest. In those first moments, the chamber pot sounded all too comforting.

  Balancing himself mentally, Raga continued to sit for some time with his hand resting on Eris’ forehead. He felt tired and a little drained. Aside from sharing the ale’s effects, he realized that healing was not necessarily an easy thing. He had exerted himself more than expected to keep Eris’ life force under steady control. No wonder he is the way he is, Raga thought suddenly and a bit of a smile flickered across his tired face. Who wouldn’t be a little touchy with a vitality like that flowing in one’s veins?

  Slowly, the dusky sky turned to night and the stars twinkled in the clear desert sky. Eris felt better. The sickness was tolerable and he had no more thoughts of death. The heat radiating from Raga’s hand flowed through his body. He felt as if the sorcerer had set his insides afire, yet it was a comforting presence. He didn’t want to admit it, but found it rather soothing. It wasn’t long after that he realized his clothing was thoroughly soaked. The thought of a swim in Rennas Baye was almost appealing.

  At last, Raga let go a great sigh and took his hand from Eris’ forehead
. From a pocket in his scarlet tunic he pulled out a cloth and wiped his face. Healing was not easy work at all.

  “How do you feel?”

  “Much better. You have my—”

  “Don’t say it,” Raga interrupted with a wave of his hand. “For one, it will ruin your reputation, and second, I wouldn’t believe you. You’re too much a rascal to be honest.”

  Eris smiled weakly. He was relieved not to have said it though there was an amount of sincerity in the thought.

  “You don’t look so good yourself,” he said, when Raga’s face appeared before him.

  “I’m not at all well,” Raga said, again wiping his face. “I have half of your drunkenness and I didn’t even get the pleasure of a drop. Why did you drink so much anyway?”

  “I had nothing better to do. It was either that or think about this blasted curse and your crazy plan. I’ve got to get out of these wet clothes,” Eris said. He sat up measure by measure as the inside of his head flew in circles. He still craved a ladle of cool water, but for the most part he felt very well. “Now, go over there and keep your eyes to yourself.”

  “Don’t worry.” Raga shambled across the room and sat down heavily in a comfortable velvet-backed chair. “I’m not even going to open my eyes until the toll of midnight. I just wish I knew of a way to cure myself. Next time, why don’t you gouge wood chips out of the table or something. Gods, Eris, I think you could drink all the camels in the desert under the table,” Raga complained and wiped the sweat from his brow. He moaned, mostly for Eris’ benefit, and let his head loll to one side where it rested against the frame of the chair.

  Eris tossed the damp clothing to the foot of the bed, pulled his long tresses out of the way, then lay back down feeling the cool sheets caress his flawless olive skin.

  “You can’t tell me that in all your countless years you’ve never gotten drunk,” Eris said and closed his eyes.

  “There’s a difference. That rot gut you were drinking could take the lacquer off this chair. Someday, I’ll let you try the wine of the Red Vale. Now that is something to drink,” Raga said.

  “I’ll pass. If you’re the only thing I ever have contact with from that accursed place, I’ll be very happy,” Eris commented.

  “I’m not a thing,” Raga sulked. “I have feelings just like you. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have saved your life.”

  “You would have saved it no matter what so you could continue to use me to get those gems back. Besides, I offered you my thanks.”

  “I don’t want it.”

  “Then why did you bring it up?”

  “Because I ... well, I don’t know. Why do you always have to speak so angrily about everything?”

  “Be quiet, Raga, I want to sleep.”

  “Sleep,” Raga snorted. “My head is spinning so fast that’s the last thing I could do.”

  “Then at least be quiet.”

  “But you know,” Raga continued, as though he hadn’t heard Eris’ request, “you were more right than perhaps you realized, when you thought you were dying. You really were. I’ve been trying to figure out how you’ve managed to survive this long without activating the little trap spell within the main structure of the curse,” he continued, in a rambling sort of way.

  “What in the Seven Hells are you babbling about? I said go to sleep,” Eris said and turned on his side so he could look at Raga. The look was more of an annoyed glare.

  “Let me see if I can explain it. It’s like a spell within a spell. It seems that when a man is very drunk and goes through the change all his vital essences are trapped in a void created by another spell. In the presence of alcohol, the first spell works much faster as you found out. There was no time for you to gather your life essences, so to speak, into your new form. Not that you would consciously think to do it anyway. As I have discovered over the years, most mortals have no true understanding of the divisions between the spiritual and the corporeal. Anyway, had I not found that other little spell, you would surely be dead by now. Do you understand what I am trying to explain to you?” Raga asked, wiping his face. It seemed as if the alcohol insisted on seeping from the pores on his forehead.

  “If that’s true, then why all this complicated changing with the moon and so on?” Eris asked, trying to make sense of Raga’s somewhat disjointed explanation. “Any man would get drunk in this situation. Besides, I wasn’t drunk in my true form.”

  “You don’t really believe Charra-Tir wants you to live, do you?” Raga asked and lifted his head for a moment to look at Eris. In that moment, he decided he was truly drunk and without any sense at all as the sight of Erisa's beautiful and curvaceous body stretched before him barely roused a flicker in his gray eyes. His head thunked dully as it dropped against the back of his chair.

  “I understand. If I didn’t intentionally take my life, the witch would make sure it happened sooner or later and I not realize it until it was too late. How clever she is,” Eris said sarcastically.

  “You can never under estimate that sorceress, nor others of her kind,” Raga said. “Like I said before, I don’t understand why you’re not already dead. I can’t imagine you not going out and getting really sotted at least once since this happened to you.”

  “When I sink to that point of self-pity, women are the last things on my mind. There is only revenge. And, I drink alone,” Eris said. His womanly voice was suddenly hard and scornful. “When one drinks alone, it’s not good to get inebriated. Too dangerous. Look what happened to me in Rennas Baye. I had one mug while waiting for the black beard and ended up being snared by you. Any more questions?”

  “No,” Raga sighed. He decided to forego his previous curiosity on the subject of Riza’s familiarity with Eris. He was definitely on the mend. His sarcasm embellished at least every third word. As for himself, Raga was in no mood to fence jibes with him. He was sure that with trying to get Eris properly attired and taught to dance, the worst was yet to come.

  Silence fell in the room. Midnight came and went and both of them slept until the wee hours of morning. Raga was startled awake as somewhere in the night-quiet city a bell tolled two. A faint whisper of a breeze came through the open doors leading to the balcony. The sheer draperies swayed as if touched by delicate fingers.

  Raga sat up stiffly and rubbed the back of his neck. He looked to the bed and found it empty. A puzzled frown creased his forehead as he pushed himself up to his feet. He didn’t remember leaving the doors open and walked quietly toward them. On the balcony, he found Eris leaning on his elbows against the wrought-iron railing. He was wrapped in his emerald cloak and was staring into the palace gardens.

  He had combed the luxuriant black hair and it lay in a wavy pattern down his back. The only other part of him that showed was his dainty, bare feet. One of which he moved slowly back and forth across the cool, marble tile.

  If only it wasn’t Eris on the inside, Raga thought again for a countless time. He didn’t understand what it was that made his desires rise consistently to such a level every time he looked at him. It wasn’t as if Eris was the only and last beautiful woman in the world. Reveling in his lusty thoughts, his foot bumped a table.

  Instantly, Eris spun around. The cloak fell open to reveal the curvaceous body, and a length of sharp steel glinted in the moonlight.

  “What are you doing sneaking up on me?” Eris snarled.

  “I wasn’t—”

  “Get that stupid look off of your face before I do it for you,” Eris snapped and pulled the cloak closed. He stalked back into the room and gave Raga an indignant glare that only his womanly face could make.

  Raga closed the doors and followed Eris across the room to a basin where Eris had begun to splash cool water on his face.

  “I thought I heard something and I only wanted to see where you were,” Raga explained innocently.

  “What are you plotting now?”

  “Nothing. Listen to me, Eris. You had better get used to men looking at you when you are like this. It�
�s not like I’m the first.”

  “It’s unnatural.”

  “You are the one who’s unnatural. When has a man not stared at a beautiful woman and especially at one more lovely than most? You had better start thinking of yourself as one until we’re out of this mess, or you’re going to be as mean and spiteful as a hellcat and the Sultan will throw you back into the street. It’s where you belong, but then where will we be?”

  Eris wiped his face on the edge of his cloak. He wasn’t convinced.

  “You’re making this harder on yourself than you have to. You enjoy it when a woman looks at you as a man, so think of it that way. Use what you’ve got so we can get the gem and be out of here,” Raga told him.

  “How am I supposed to know what to do?” Eris argued and hugged the cloak tighter around. He didn’t like the little flickers he saw in the sorcerer’s eyes.

  Raga almost answered him, but a broad smile appeared through his mass of red whiskers. He wagged a finger at Eris.

  “You’re not going to get me to argue with you anymore tonight. You’ve been with plenty of women to know their ways and wiles. You’ve run out of arguments as far as I’m concerned.” Raga chuckled. He roared with laughter when Eris made an annoyed pout and looked at him mournfully from under long, dark lashes. “We’ll make a woman out of you yet.”

  “Just don’t get carried away, or you’ll find yourself less of a man,” Eris said, pointedly, and slid his dagger back into his saddlebag.

  Still snorting with laughter, Raga began waving his arms and mumbled something Eris didn’t understand. It was a language as old as time itself, and time had forgotten most of it.

  “The Sultan is going to have his hands full with you, Erisa the Wench,” he said over his shoulder. Eris pelted him with a cushion from the nearest chair.

  “That’s good. See, you know very well how they are,” Raga encouraged, and then mumbled another string of strange words, while Eris sat down on the edge of the bed and waited.

  In the center of the room a red mist seeped from the floor and ceiling as two coiling, vaporous vipers. They met mid-way between floor and ceiling and twined together. Golden sparks crackled in the swirling mass where they touched. Slowly, the vapors coalesced becoming solid in the center, while two wispy tendrils snaked out to three chairs Raga had quickly placed in a row. Sparks flashed on the chairs’ cushions where multicolored garments and a ransom in brilliant jewels flared into existence.