“You heard what the spy said. Now we wait until he reports more,” he said, rising to his feet. The pair were almost eye to eye know. He dangled the amulet between his fingers and slung his mace over his shoulder. “I want to know what they are after. And I don’t want to fool with the Elves. Come.”
The Crater made for an interesting hideout. Filled with dangerous predators and excellent places for monsters such as Giants to conceal themselves. Even Dragons. For years poachers had roamed this location, and now Kryzak had taken it over.
And no one had challenged him.
There was no need now that word was getting out.
Another war was coming.
Maneuvering through the woods, he came across a hole over a dozen feet wide that led into the ground and formed a tunnel. It was pitch black, but the eyes of the Draykis and the tattoos on his head both gave off a soft glow of light. Damp and cold, a hundred steps down the steep incline he came to a stop.
He muttered, “Shompin.”
Torches lit up a large cavern. Inside were many cages. Some big enough for an Ettin, others small as a cat. Many of them were filled with Dragons.
Two more Draykis emerged from the dark corners, followed by something else. A Dragon, dark scaled, bigger than a horse, wingless, with bright yellow cat-like eyes. The Feline Fury. Its long whiskers touched the floor. He stroked its face. Its purr was like thunder.
“Ah, my favorite,” Kryzak said.
The Feline Fury had been instrumental in capturing other Dragons. It was an excellent hunter. It and the Draykis had become the most effective poachers of all. The captured Dragons lay curled up in their cages, eyes closed, unmoving. The biggest was a Red Belly Dragon. It was male, dark yellow scales on top, dark red on the bottom. A fire breather and hot land dweller. Smelled like sulfur all the time. Not much of a flyer. It would fetch a great price in the market. Its parts, that is. It was too big to keep alive. Too dangerous.
The others―most as big as tigers―would make pets or catalysts to magic. The wizards preferred them. They were all fantastic creatures. Beautiful in some cases. Metallic in color, some pastel, others with chameleon-like powers. All in all, the Dragons were worth a fortune.
“Almost a shame to put an end to them,” he said, stroking the whiskers of The Fury. “Of course, like you, maybe some of them can be turned to our service.”
CHAPTER 22
We made it to the Elven Lands without any more trouble. Shum and the rest of us were in good shape. Even Brenwar had loosened up. I spent most of my time hunting and fishing with Ben and Garrison when were weren’t riding. They were good company, especially Ben. I was amazed at how much he had changed in a matter of months. A boy to a man.
It almost made me feel ashamed of myself, for some reason.
But my sense of guilt and worry started to subside in the Elven Lands. They were well protected and monitored. Filled with wild animals of incredibly rare sorts. They said unicorns were seen from time to time. But the Elves kept a close watch on such things―assuming of course they could find them.
One thing was for sure: there wasn’t much to do with evil. At least not that they knew of.
The Elven Lands weren’t so different, just more lush and colorful. The water sparkled in the streams and ponds. There were roads, farms and villages―and so long as you traveled with Elves or weren’t suspicious, they didn’t seem to notice you.
Slighter in build than Men, the Elves didn’t care to answer questions and would just wave and offer smiles. Elves were pleasant, laid back, easy going, at least in the country. It was the serious ones that kept things in order. And they were in the main city, Elome, which was right where we were going.
“What’s that?” Ben said, pointing ahead.
“That’s Elome, Ben,” I said.
He squinted. Held his hand over his eyes.
“Are those trees? Or buildings? They’re touching the clouds, whatever they are”
“You’ll see,” I said. “You’ll see.”
We were miles away, but the object in Ben’s eyes, all our eyes, was miles long. Everyone was solemn. Bayzog’s face was tight. Sasha’s eyes were saucers. Shum and Brenwar didn’t look any different than they normally would, but I was sure Brenwar would have something contrary to say about it.
We took our time too. The horses clopping over the road at a normal pace. Things seemed to go much slower in the Elven Woods. There wasn’t a great deal of business about them. It was different. Calm. Serene.
“I don’t think we’re getting any closer, Dragon,” Ben said.
“We’ll get there when we get there, Ben,” I said, raking my hair out of my face. “Enjoy it. It’s not the same going as it is coming.”
Onward we went, one mile, then two, three and four. As we got closer, the city widened, impossibly so. The trees that reached for the clouds weren’t all trees but a network of stonework, cut blocks and polished stones that looked as natural as nature itself. There were no city walls, not like Quintuklen, nor steep mountain ridges like Morgdon. It was the imagination and cultivation of Elven kind and nature working as one. Fantastic. Almost magical.
“By the Sultans,” Sasha said, “it’s absolutely beautiful.”
“To you, maybe,” I heard Brenwar mutter under is beard.
We made our way through one of the massive arches that led into the city. Elven soldiers were spaced throughout the structures but hardly noticeable. The Elves went about their business―trading, selling, buying―the same as other people, just talking in Elvish. The men were slender and purposed. The women elegant, pretty, even exotic in some cases. But not a one batted an eyelash at me, which was disappointing. But on the other side of things, they didn’t gawk at my arms either.
“Dragon,” Ben said, trying to look everywhere at once, “this place is fantastic. Not anything I ever imagined.”
It was true. The buildings were of all sorts and sizes. Some carved from stone, others wood. Soft mosses―blue, green, even yellow―coated many places like paint, and the roads were laid out in pale red stone. Children ran through the streets, darting in and out of wicker hoops. Others chased after one another, filling the air with laughter and giggles here and there.
“Smells good,” Ben said, rubbing his stomach. “I’ve never had Elven food before.”
“Pah,” Brenwar said, “you won’t like the taste.”
“I won’t? Why not?” Ben said.
“Well, do you like meat?”
“Sure, everyone does,” Ben said, “Don’t they?”
“Well, their meat tastes like fruit and gardens, Farmboy. And their ale tastes like honey. Do you like honey, Boy?”
“Uh,” Ben said, scratching his head.
“Well?”
Ben rode up to me and said, “Brenwar scares me.”
“Ho! Ho! Ho!” Brenwar said from behind.
“Take it easy, Ben. Brenwar’s set in his ways, you know.”
“Does their meat really taste like vegetables?”
“Don’t worry, you’ll like it,” I said. “I always do.”
Well, I mostly did. The Elves didn’t eat much meat. Not much of any at all. As a matter of fact, they ate very little.
That was one of things that was different about Elome. There weren’t taverns like the other cities. Whatever they needed, they just plucked it from the vines that cropped up everywhere.
The Elves nurtured.
The plant life fed.
I plucked a fruit from a vine we passed and tossed one to Ben and another to Garrison.
“Eat,” I said. “There’s plenty.”
Brenwar was scoffing in the back. I tossed him a fruit. He snatched it from the air. Eyes filled with venom.
“What’s this for?” Brenwar said.
“To eat,” I said. “It won’t kill you.”
“Dwarves don’t eat fruit! We eat beast. We eat stew!” He chucked it at one of the children.
The light headed boy snatched it with his hand, nodd
ed and took a bite out of it.
“Next time I’ll toss him a rock to eat.”
“Come,” Bayzog said, taking the lead. “I’ll take us to the Place of Meets.”
***
The Place of Meets was marvelous. A gathering space a mile long and a mile high. We weren’t so unique there. Men and Elves consulted. Halflings and Gnomes appeared, shuffling by with smiles and intense conversations. Brenwar, arms folded over his breast plate, made it a point to scowl at each and every one of them. He took pride in being part of the tallest of the short races and didn’t hesitate to make it known.
“Sit, everyone.” Bayzog took his place on a sofa carved in a tree with violet covered moss cushions.
Sasha sat close beside him.
“Sit, everyone,” he said again. “Relax. They won’t be with us anytime soon.”
“You can say that again,” Brenwar said.
Ben hopped from spot to spot. Sampling the foods. Tasting the drinks the Elven servants laid out. Finally he stretched out on a padded lounge and stuffed fruits and cheeses in his mouth.
“Sit!” he said. “How about live? This room is the most wondrous thing I’ve ever seen. I could live here!” He thumped his arms on his furniture. “Right here. This spot! Never move again.”
An Elven maiden with pale violet hair and green eyes sauntered in with another tray. She was petite, pretty, eyes engaging.
Ben choked. Thumped his chest with his fist. Took a drink. “Hello,” he managed to spit out. “My name’s Ben.”
She nodded and walked away.
“Ah!” Ben said. “Did you see that, Dragon? The way she looked at me? I think she likes me!”
“I think you need to ease up on the Elven fruit juice, Ben. It’s pretty potent.”
Sasha and Garrison chuckled along with me.
Everyone else was quite serious.
“What?” Ben said. “I swear she liked me. She really did.”
After an hour, everyone had settled in. Chatting openly with one another. The Elven juice often did that to you.
Brenwar groaned when he took a seat. “I’m sitting, but I swear I won’t be comfortable.” He combed his beard with his fingers. Grumbled. “Better not be no pixies.”
Now came the wait.
The waits weren’t so bad for the likes of me, Brenwar, Shum or Bayzog. But to humans like Sasha, Ben and Garrison, it could be agonizing. It was one of the reasons Men didn’t mingle with the Elves so much. Elven things took a long time. A simple meeting might not start for days, maybe weeks, unless you planned it out well in advance. In the case of us, our business was unexpected. There was no telling when they’d officially greet us.
I took a chair near Bayzog and Sasha. Tried to enjoy the tunes of the Elven bards who strummed and strolled along. I was uncomfortable though.
Waiting, which really wasn’t much of an issue with Dragons, made me think of my father. He always made me wait. Well, maybe not wait as much as Dragon things just taking a long time. But right now, I wouldn’t mind waiting to see him again as opposed to maybe never seeing him again at all.
I set down my goblet of Elven juice. I needed to focus.
“Thanks for bringing me here,” Sasha said to Bayzog. “I’ve always wanted to come.”
Bayzog sat with his arm on her knee, poised but not relaxed.
I could feel the tension in him. I understood it. I could relate. But I had to wonder what he was thinking. I didn’t know much about Bayzog and his family.
Sasha gently turned Bayzog’s chin with her fingers, to face her.
“Why don’t you go see them while we wait? I’m sure they miss you.”
I saw a little fire ignite in Bayzog’s violet eyes. But that fire was met with Sasha’s sweet determination.
Good for her, I thought.
“Perhaps,” Bayzog said.
The night came. The leaves on some of the trees glowed, and all the humans in our party fell asleep. The rest of us sat in the quiet. Alone in our thoughts. Contemplating the next step in the journey. Would the Elves help? Or would they shun our efforts?
There was only one way to find out.
Wait.
CHAPTER 23
High Priestess Selene, accompanied by a dozen acolytes and Lizard Men, had finished her journey west towards the Ruins of Barnabus. It was there her lord lived. Hidden from prying eyes deep inside the belly of the mountainous terrain. They rode on horseback, traversing the narrow trails until they stopped at a cave mouth. It resembled a maw, Dragon like, over forty feet tall. Standing just outside the entrance, she rubbed her shoulder. It was cold in there. Dark. Vast. She could feel eyes all over her.
“Stay here,” she said. “And make no sudden moves.” She pointed at the ledges of the cave’s entrance.
Several carved Dragons blended in with the stones and vegetation. As big as Men, some bigger. They were breathing. Their eyes sparkled like gems.
“You don’t want those guardians to greet you. One bite and it’s over.”
Inside she went, heavy dark robes dragging over the ground, tail swishing back and forth. She felt cold. Nervous. She was the High Priestess of Barnabus, so she shouldn’t fear anything. Yet she did. Her breath showed. Her heart beat faster. It smelled of death. Decay. A tomb of sorts.
Straight she went. Down a gentle grade until a distant light shone. Torches. The fires green and blue ignited by magic.
A massive stone archway adorned in gargoyle heads and Dragons looked down at her.
She kneeled. Bowed. “High Priestess Selene comes to see the master of all masters. The priest of all priests. The one true Lord of Nalzambor.”
On the other side of the archway, two stone urns flared with icy burning light. In between it a throne made for someone ten times her size waited. Empty.
“COME.”
The voice was deep as a canyon. Powerful as a stormy wind.
Selene made her way inside. Stopped at the marble step as high as her head and bowed.
She felt small. Insignifigant. Her hands went cold. She waited what seemed to her a long time.
“YOU TREMBLE. WHY, SELENE?”
She swallowed. Words were stuck in her throat. She trembled.
“HAVE YOU NO GOOD NEWS TO BRING?”
“I-I do.”
“LOOK AT ME!”
She snapped her chin up. A presence sat. Huge. Ominous. A Dragon-like being of shadows and scales. His eyes were black pits with burning stars in the middle. A crown of thorns adorned his head. He sat like a Man. Shoulders like a Titan’s. But all Dragon.
“THAT’S BETTER … DAUGHTER. WHAT NEWS DO YOU HAVE FOR ME?”
She yelled, even though she didn’t have to, her voice echoing.
“Nath Dragon has black scales, Father.”
“HEH … HEH. SOON NALZAMBOR WILL BE OURS. BUT I GROW IMPATIENT.” He reached down his hand. “COME.”
She stepped onto the center of his hand.
He lifted her like a doll and set her on the arm of the chair.
Still looking up at him, she waited. The Dragon was her father so far as she knew. She’d never known any other parents other than the family of Barnabus.
Unknown to her, this was a lie. Barnabus had been a hero in the first Dragon wars. His legend had been twisted into something else. His good name used to spread evil. It had all been the idea of Gorm Grattak, the Dragon Lord on the throne. King of the evil Dragons. One of a few survivors of the last Dragon War.
“TELL ME MORE, CHILD.”
The tightness in her chest eased. Her confidence returned. She’d made it this far. She’d live.
She said, “We capture Dragons by the dozens now. We’ve turned the world against them. For every one Nath Dragon saves, we take ten. Extinguish them. Sell them. Or bring the willing ones here. As you wish, Father.
“We watch Nath Dragon. Wear him down. Hunt and destroy his friends. His allies. He’s still attached to this world. Banished from the Dragon Home. A wayward one, trying to redeem himself.�
��
Again, Selene waited what seemed to her a long time.
“HIS REDEMPTION MUST NEVER HAPPEN,” Gorm Grattak said. “SEE TO THAT PERSONALLY, IF YOU MUST.”
“Yes, Father.”
“I CANNOT LEAVE, DAUGHTER. ELSE I BE DISCOVERED. I FEEL MY STRENGTH GROWING. MY ARMY BUILDS.”
He waved his arm across the air. The entire chamber lit up. Bones, treasures and tributes covered the edges of the room. A mural spanned the entire back wall filled with Dragons battling in a storm. There were hundreds of them. No two alike. They moved. They hissed. Trying to escape one world for the other.
“THEY ARE READY TO FIGHT. THEIR BANISHMENT ALMOST OVER. SOON WE WILL RUN THIS WORLD OVER.” He lifted her chin with his clawed finger. “THE TURNING OR DEATH OF NATH DRAGON WILL MAKE IT CERTAIN. I PREFER HIM TURNED.” He snorted. Smoke billowed from his nose like icy air. “GO NOW, DAUGHTER. RETURN ONLY WHEN YOU HAVE SUCCEEDED.” He set her down.
The room went black.
She didn’t turn. Just walked away. Though she had no aversion to darkness, she welcomed the light of the sun that greeted her at the end. She would do things right or else she would be dead.
Clearing the mouth of the cave, her heart stopped.
She gasped.
All of the Lizard Men and Acolytes were dead. Devoured in most cases. Even all the horses, but one. She got in the saddle and eyed the guardians above the mouth of the cave. The statues didn’t move or blink, but their bellies bulged where’d they’d been flat before.
Her eyes narrowed.
Her jaw set.
Nath Dragon will be mine one way or the other. “Yah!”
CHAPTER 24
Three days later the Elves came. It was a good thing too. Ben and Garrison were getting antsy. Pestering the Elves. Almost stalking them.
I didn’t have the patience to explain Elven etiquette to them. Don’t touch. Don’t stare. Eat and sleep until they get here.
Brenwar grumbled every half day or so. Hadn’t eaten a thing.
Sasha lay on the sofa, legs over Bayzog’s lap. She slept most of the time.
Shum sat by himself. Eyes closed the entire time. But I could tell he saw everything through his ears. He was the first one to rise moments before the Elven delegation appeared.
Clutch Of The Cleric (Book 4) Page 9
