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

by CA Morgan

  He quickly surveyed the surrounding area and picked out the biggest tree. Gripping his sword tightly, teeth clenched, he ran from his hiding place toward the tree. The creature roared and bore down on him. The earth trembled with its heavy footfalls. It drew both axes drew back preparing to strike as the swords circled ominously. It prepared to cleave the puny man in two with one massive stroke.

  “Eris, what are you doing? You can’t kill it with a sword,” Raga shouted, but he ignored him. It took all of his courage, his resolve to stand his ground in front of the tree and not run in terror. He made a mock parry with his sword and hoped his assumptions were correct. His breathing was quick and shallow, but his eyes remained steadily focused on the movements of the four blue weapons.

  Slowly, pretending to be trapped, Eris backed toward the tree. The beast growled in satisfaction. It gave a mighty roar and brought both axes to bear. At the last possible moment, Eris dove and rolled to the left over the arc of the ax, but beneath the sword’s slower strike. He lay flat on the ground and raised his head to watch the result and hoped his reasoning was correct. If not, it was going to be a long day.

  With a resounding thud, the axes sank deeply into the tree. The creature's furious bellow was cut short. A moment of silence and then violent hissing as the tree absorbed the full force of its energy. The beast was drawn into the tree's trunk slowly at first, then faster and faster.

  A loud pop made Eris look up just in time to see a pinecone forcibly ejected from a branch. Cones exploded off of every branch. The oblong projectiles scattered seeds in every direction as they whistled through the air. The creature’s energy dissipated through every branch and twig and sent down more needle stingers.

  Eris covered his head with his arms as the cones slammed into the ground all around him and sent up explosions of snow and mud.

  “Ow! Damn!” he grunted, as one of the last cones slammed into his shoulder. He lay still until the sounds of whooshing and thudding ended. Slowly, he lifted his head from the snow and looked cautiously around. He was covered in pine seeds and needles. The beast was gone.

  He got to his feet and brushed needles, seeds and mud from his clothing. Not that it mattered much. He was already soaked, muddy and cold from scrambling rock to rock. He walked around the base of the tree now void of cones and great drops of water dripped as its snowy coat was melted away. Two black, burned gashes still smoked on the trunk where the axes struck and all around the snow was pockmarked by the blasted cones.

  A writhing blue blob caught his attention. It was all that was left of the creature. Now that he had time for curiosity, he sheathed his sword and knelt beside it. Using the silver dagger, he gave it a little poke and was surprised when it gave a weary, sibilant hiss and withered down into an opaque spot of color, a little patch of paint. This was strange magic indeed. He wondered if the silver blade could have reduced the beast as easily as it did what was left of it.

  Thinking of creatures, he wondered just what it was he was chasing to have magic such as this. His eyes scanned the clearing looking for Raga, but couldn’t find him. He reached back to rub his throbbing shoulder and looked down at his leg that continued to bleed.

  “Where is that useless sorcerer?” he muttered, untying the green sash from his waist and retying it around his leg. Raga owed him not only for making him ruin his sash, but also for having to use it as a tourniquet bandage in the first place.

  “Raga! Where are you?” Eris shouted. No answer. Only a few startled birds squawked and flew away. To the pits with him, he thought as he sheathed the silver dagger in his boot. Raga could either find his own way back or stay out in the elements all night. At this point, he didn’t care. What good was it having an elemental sorcerer around if useless was the best he could do?

  The late-afternoon shadows lengthened and the forest’s shadows darkened, as did Eris’ mood. He found it harder and slower going to track the girl’s trail as the gray light made every unevenness in the snow appear as a footprint. Any bright glimmer of light through thin branches gave him pause thinking another of her monsters had been unleashed to guard her path. But there was nothing, only silence and shadows. Abruptly, the footprints stopped.

  Eris stood at the end of her trail, puzzled. He walked a big circle looking for signs of her passing, but found nothing. He didn’t think the girl could disappear, or she would have done it sooner. He wasn’t even sure if Raga could do that. He squatted down and leaned with his back against a tree trunk to think and listen.

  He remembered her wings, but it seemed the trees were too close together for her to be able to fly, nor did he think they were strong enough to lift her weight. She wasn’t very big by any means, but she did have substance as he recalled from the brief moment he held her.

  He closed his eyes and let the frenzy of the chase and the fight calm. He let go the wariness of the warrior and felt for the oneness with the nature around him, for the silent, patient form of the hunter. It wasn’t long before he heard faintly, so very faintly, the sound of her weeping. He listened intently. The sound didn’t diminish and he knew she had stopped running. Perhaps now, without the bumbling interference of Raga, he would capture her.

  He pulled the white hood of his cloak back over his head and let his acute hearing lead him to her. It was dusk when he reached the edge of a glade glowing with the light of a mystical spectrum. The perimeter was surrounded by a multicolored array of glowing sentinels. Fantastical creatures and strange plants, all very likely as deadly as the blue creature, stood a silent vigil in the cold, gray light.

  Eris knew the girl was close, but the sounds she made seemed out of place. They seemed far off, or rather, higher than he expected. His gaze traveled upward into the branches. By the faintest light, he saw a tenuous, nearly camouflaged pathway suspended through the branches. He smiled a tight, confident smile. She was as good as his now, but first he had to rid the glade of a few unwanted guardians.

  Quiet as a mountain lynx padding toward its prey, Eris crept to a glowing pink flower that didn’t appear overly vicious. Slowly, he reached out with the silver dagger and touched the flower’s stalk. Like the remains of the blue creature, it let go a sibilant sigh and melted down into a puddle of paint. With the stealth and deadly intent of an assassin, Eris moved around the glade disposing of as many of the artistic guardians as he felt he could without arousing her attention.

  Satisfied that he had terminated as many as he dared, he returned to the base of the tree from which he had seen the pathway. He removed the cloak and clenched the silver dagger between his teeth. He squatted, jumped and caught hold of the highest branch possible and easily pulled himself up to a sturdier branch. His dark clothing camouflaged him in the receding light.

  He moved easily through the great pines as he had climbed trees such as these in his childhood and felt at home in the fragrant, prickly softness of the needles. He used the suspended path only when he had no other choice, as it seemed incapable of supporting his weight. Closer and closer he came to the girl. She was quiet now, but he knew it wasn’t much farther. A few more cautious steps and he saw her outline against the light burning in her refuge.

  Her home was little more than a platform with three walls constructed of branches lashed together. The roof was made of more branches overlain with a thick layer of fibrous marsh grasses and now a thin dusting of snow. She had a pile of moss and pine needles covered with fur that made her bed. Rough planks formed a crude table and she had a log for a chair. A small candle burned on the table and cast its light on a few earthen pots stacked in the corner. On the wall just above her head, Eris spotted the lethal palette hanging on a peg.

  Seeing the girl alone, so frightened and vulnerable brought forth Erisa’s scorn and anger from deep in his heart. How dare he think to carry out his cold and calculated plan? The girl had fought bravely, with cunning, and what right did he have to remove her from her home? No! Eris thought fighting furiously with his conscience. This girl meant nothing to
him. Like him, she was merely a tool in the grand farce the gods were playing with them all. She would gain for him what he and Raga so desperately sought. In the end, Morengoth, after his fashion, would make her his queen. What more could she ever ask for? The image of himself chained and prostrate before the wealthy and powerful Sultan of Reshan flashed in his memories. What more, he had to ask.

  Damn it all! He pushed a balled fist under his chin and stared for a long time at the prize of his hunt. He had sworn an oath of honor to carry out this task. If anyone should suffer guilt, it should be Morengoth, not him, as he was only doing what the Dragon King could not.

  What honor was there in enslaving an innocent to one of greater power, Erisa railed at him. But the cold, steely emotion that was still the greater part of him drowned the indignant words in the calculated formation of a plan.

  He edged as close to her as possible before the sturdy branches turned to twigs. He pulled a dagger from one bracer and put the silver dagger into the empty sheath. With careful aim, he hurled the dagger directly into the center of the palette. The palette split and clattered to the floor.

  The girl screamed in terror and Eris leapt. He landed solidly on the platform next to her. His arms encircled her, pinning her arms tightly to her body, and he lifted her from the log. Beneath his feet he felt movement as the floor groaned and cracked loudly.

  “Riza’s pits!” he swore.

  The platform swayed and pieces of the walls went crashing to the ground nearly twenty spans below. He looked for something sturdy to grab hold of, but saw nothing. The platform shuddered again and began to twist askew. No stepping to one side or the other would balance the floor and steady it.

  Eris screwed his eyes shut as the floor collapsed and the girl let out a piercing shriek. He held on to her writhing form as they tumbled down in a mass of planks, moss and pine needles. The candle went out and they landed hard on the ground.

  Eris blanched away from the crystal wings that fluttered briefly in his face as she now lay on top of him. The girl sobbed in terror, but didn’t seem to be hurt. Without losing his grip and feeling bruised from head to foot, Eris kicked the rubble of the mossy roof off of them. Rolling over, he used his knee to pin her hands to the small of her back. She struggled in vain against his strength and in short order she was bound hand and foot.

  Erisa’s voice shrieked at him, demanding to know why he was treating her worse than the slaver who had beaten Pashtine on the palace steps. Why did he protect one and hunt the other with a vengeance?

  Leaving her lying in the snow, Eris stood and surveyed the glade to see if she had somehow summoned her glowing defenses. Nothing moved or grew to a disproportionate size, which relieved him greatly. He left her where she was and went back to retrieve his cloak. It would be dark and cold by the time he walked back to the horses, and colder yet when they reached the cave.

  Returning to the glade, Eris saw the girl had sat up and was scooting toward the rubble of her home. Seeing Eris striding toward her, she stopped next to a glowing, yellow sunflower and looked mournfully up at him. Eris stopped as well wondering if the sunflower was about to grow. The flower's light made her skin appear even more golden than it did in the daylight.

  “Why did you do this to me?” she asked, as pink tears rolled from her sapphire eyes.

  “There is someone who wishes to see you. As you wouldn’t cooperate when asked politely, you will come my way,” Eris answered with ill temper.

  “Who? No one even knows I’m here,” she cried, afraid of the dark man who held her captive.

  Eris refused to answer and glared down at her. He was not about to look at her pitiful face all the way back to the horse. He bent and easily hoisted her over his shoulder, then covered them both with the fur.

  “Please, I beg you, let me go!” she cried as Eris began to move away from the ruin of her home. “Wait! Stop! I must have my palette. You can’t leave it behind. Please, I beg you! I will die without it.”

  Eris paused. Having come this far and at such risk, he decided that true or not, he would give in to her plea and Erisa’s fury abated by a fraction of a degree. He turned back and kicked through the ruin of the little shelter. With every step Erisa haunted him, accused him of disavowing his honor to become nothing more than a Reshan slave peddler. He found the two halves of the palette and retrieved his dagger. Holding the palette in his hands, it appeared to be nothing more than a simple, much-used painter’s palette. Tiny bits of moss and pine needles sticking to the tacky paint spots made it seem much less sinister than it had before.

  “Give them to me. I must have them,” she begged.

  “Quiet, wench. You’ve caused enough trouble for one day,” Eris growled. He tucked the palette pieces inside his tunic and tossed the fur around his shoulders to cover them both.

  Following his own tracks by the faint light of a rising moon, his long, striding gait brought them quickly back to the pockmarked battle site. He kicked the snow off of a fallen log and sat the girl on it. He made a quick search for Raga, but only found his tracks heading back to where the whole incident had begun.

  “Please, whoever you are, I’ve done nothing to anyone to be attacked and treated this way.”

  Eris glared at her. The frightened face of Pashtine cowering beside Erisa on the palace steps flashed again in his memories. Now he was the brutal slaver standing behind Pashtine, and now standing before this girl, who had done no one harm. It’s destiny, not cruelty, Eris thought again and drove the images away. But maybe it wasn't and who could say, really? He was guilty in his own eyes and certainly in hers.

  “Who sent you? Who knows I am here? Tell me. No one comes into this forest. They’re all afraid,” she said, struggling against her bonds.

  “Someone you’ve probably never heard of,” Eris answered.

  “Who?” she shrieked at him.

  “Morengoth, High King of the Tamori,” he answered, but didn’t meet her eyes.

  The girl stared at him and mumbled something he couldn’t hear. He watched as she redoubled her efforts against his knots and screamed at him. He didn’t understand a word she shrieked, but there was no mistaking the anger that trembled through her.

  Fearing another onslaught of magic, Eris cut off a piece of his sash that wasn’t too bloody or dirty and gagged her with it. Then, none too gently, he put her back over his shoulder and hurried to the bridge where the horse was tethered.

  In the distance, he saw the cave’s mouth illuminated by the light of a warm fire. His belly growled and he hoped Raga had prepared a meal.

  Refusing the girl any amount of comfort, but most especially not wanting to see her face, he put her face down across the saddle and mounted up behind her. The horse, glad to be free, ran briskly along the trail of moonlit hoof prints left by Raga’s horse.

  Reaching the cave, Eris reined in. Reluctant to stop, the horse reared and gave a disgruntled snort. The animal pawed and stamped the ground as Eris watched Raga rise from the fire pit and amble toward them.

  “That animal has distemper just like you,” Raga said as the horse turned with a pounce and snorted in his direction. “But, at least, you managed to capture her.”

  “No thanks to you,” Eris grumbled. He tugged the reins again to quiet the animal. With his free hand, he helped Raga pull the girl from the saddle.

  She teetered from dizziness and a sudden imbalance by not being able to move her feet. Raga caught her before she toppled over and saw the rope at her ankles.

  “Was that really necessary?” Raga asked as Eris dismounted.

  “Do you want to chase her through the forest the next time?” Eris asked.

  Again, he hoisted her over his shoulder and took her inside. He put her down a little more gently this time, then, as an afterthought, put his fur around her shoulders. It would hide her unnatural wings.

  “Eris, you’re not treating the poor child well at all,” Raga said, shaking his head as he went to her. He bent down to untie the sash tha
t Eris has tied much too tightly around her mouth.

  “Leave her be. I have no wish to hear any more of her crying and screeching.”

  Raga shot him a disgusted glance and continued to untie the knot.

  “I said, leave her be,” Eris said angrily. He took several steps back toward them. The girl cringed away from his towering form and Raga saw his hand move to the hilt of his sword.

  “But, Eris—"

  “No! I’ll have no more trouble out of her, or you either,” he said and waited until Raga moved away from her and then went outside to see to his horse.

  Reluctantly, Raga left the girl by the fire and followed Eris back outside.

  “You’re being unreasonable. She’s just a frightened child,” Raga said reproachfully.

  “Child? Witch is more like it,” Eris said. The horse seemed to snort in agreement as he pulled the saddle from its back. “It’s easy for you to come to her defense. Like defends like. You don’t have the right to complain to me about anything. You didn’t take her dagger in your flesh and you certainly did nothing to help me fight that horror of hers.”

  Raga tried to argue, but Eris was already too absorbed with the animal and well on a rant for him to get a word in.

  “I chased her at least a league into that forest, climbed the trees to get her, then the whole damned mess crashed to the ground. We’re lucky we didn’t get impaled on the rubble that had already fallen. Not to mention falling from at least twenty spans up without breaking something. I wonder how you’d fare if I dropped you from that height? I should just break your neck here and now and save you the fall."

  “I could boil a poultice. I’m sure the right plants are around here somewhere,” Raga offered, trying to appease the hateful anger seething in Eris.

  “Dead leaves buried under snow. Not very useful,” Eris said. “Forget it. I’ll just see about using Morengoth’s pool when we get back. Too bad it won’t get rid of you.”

  “At least the pool will get rid of this damnable temper of yours. What’s her name?