The Balborite Curse (Book 4)

by Kristian Alva

  The Shadow Grid, a loose society of mageborns, had rebuilt its ranks after the war. There was a guild chapter in every major city, and freemages roamed the countryside selling questionable potions, honey traps, and other spells. Grid spellcasters usually lacked formal training, and the guilds rejected any governance from the Miklagard council. They were starting to become a problem.

  Sela nodded her understanding. “I’m not fond of the Grid, either, but Falenrith owes me a good turn. He’s the guildmaster in the south, and despite any difficulties we’ve had with his spellcasters, Falenrith himself is an honorable man.” Sela knew that the Shadow Grid would eventually cause problems for the dragon riders, but for now, she would use her guild connections to their advantage.

  “I haven’t been past the Elburgian Mountains in years. Since I’m going to Hwīt Rock, I may as well visit Chua and Starclaw, since they live nearby.”

  “That’s a good idea. I haven’t spoken with Chua in ages. He has the gift of sight, so perhaps he’ll offer you a divination on how we should deal with Druknor.”

  “All right, Duskeye and I will leave tonight.” Almost as an afterthought, Tallin asked, “Shall I bring you anything from the south?”

  Sela was taken aback by the request. “Well, sure… on your way back, pick a few of those giant cactus flowers for me, if they’re still in bloom when you return. The large purple ones only grow in the south. I used to gather them for my chambers, and I miss the perfume of those desert blooms.” Tallin glanced over at her, thinking that perhaps she might be jesting with such a frivolous request, but she was not.

  Sela stepped back from the wall and tripped on the cobblestones, still slippery from the previous night’s rain. Tallin grabbed her arm to steady her. Sela lifted her head and their eyes met. Despite her scars, Sela was still a very attractive woman, and the magic that bound her to Brinsop kept her looking young. The years had not touched her.

  Their brief contact made his heart pound. He suppressed the urge to tuck a loose strand of her chestnut hair behind her ear.

  Sela felt the heat of Tallin’s hands, and her breath caught in her throat. Then it came—a blush, and her face grew hot. She wanted to look away, but she felt transfixed. It had been years since she had known the touch of a man, and a sudden stab of longing came to her unbidden. Tallin leaned his head down but heard a sound at the doorway and pulled away.

  “Good day sir. Your dragon has been fed and groomed as you wished,” said the stable manager, “and your saddlebags have been stocked with provisions for your journey.”

  Tallin nodded at him. “Thank you, Jenebran.” He dismissed the man with a wave of his hand.

  Sela pulled her arm away abruptly, unable to bear his touch another instant. She was shaking with the rush of emotion. “I should go,” she said breathlessly. Then she turned and fled, the heels of her boots clicking over the stone floor. She left Tallin alone on the rooftop, leaving him to stare after her in shock.

  ***

  Hours later, Tallin and Duskeye met in his private chambers to prepare for the long journey. Tallin put his unease to the back of his mind and finished packing his belongings, intent on leaving Parthos before nightfall. He tightened the straps on Duskeye’s new saddle, which was larger and designed for long distance travel.

  "Ouch!" said Duskeye, squirming and scratching at the straps. "Have a care, Tallin! That iron frame is biting into my side."

  “Sorry, chum,” said Tallin. “This saddle is heavier than your usual one. I need to make sure the straps are secure, otherwise I might go tumbling down onto the dunes, and you’ll be searching for a new partner.”

  As they were getting ready to leave, Sela entered his room carrying a tray of honeyed seedcakes. “Here, put these in your bags. They’re fresh from the palace bakery.” Her expression was cool, her face unreadable.

  “Thank you,” he said, with a slight nod. He cleared his throat and looked out the window briefly before meeting her eyes again. “When shall the other dragon riders return?”

  “I’ve called them all back. Elias and Nydeired should arrive in a few days. Galti and Holf are in Redmoor, visiting their grandfather. They will take longer to return. Elias has been working in Highmill since last summer, helping the workers in the copper mines.”

  Tallin remembered his old friend—since becoming a dragon rider five years ago, Elias had matured into a powerful spellcaster, choosing to focus almost exclusively on the healing arts. It was an unusual choice for a male spellcaster, but he was now the most sought-after healer on the continent. “It’s his nature. He’d turn down the king himself in order to continue working with the poor. ”

  “Elias prefers hopeless causes,” she said. “He insisted on this assignment, you know. While I respect his motives, I question his judgment—he has noble intentions, but his gifts are being wasted. Elias spends his days and nights healing diseased lungs and shattered bones, only to see the same men return to the copper mines the next day. It’s an endless cycle. He knows as well as everybody else that those mines are a death trap. But you know how stubborn he is. He could travel around healing wealthy nobles, but that’s not his style. ”

  "Wealth and prestige don’t interest him."

  "I know." She lifted her hands in exasperation. “I just wish he’d put his gifts to better use! Did you know that he was ambushed by a pack of orcs last winter? They trapped him, tried to kill Nydeired, and threatened to skin him alive. Elias defeated them in battle and then healed their injuries before letting them go.”

  Tallin knew the story, which had become a bit of a legend. “You know… I could stay until Elias gets here.” The shadows deepened on his face.

  “I appreciate the offer, but that won’t be necessary.” Tallin opened his mouth to protest, but Sela held her hand up. “Stop—I don’t want to hear another word. I’ll be fine on my own.”

  “All right, then,” Tallin said. He let the matter drop. “Contact me if you need anything.”

  “I will. May Baghra guide your flight path.” Sela reached up and scratched the dragon’s soft underbelly. He purred softly. “Take care of him for me, Duskeye. I know how much Tallin likes to get into trouble.”

  "I promise, rider-friend," said Duskeye, nuzzling Sela with his snout.

  “I’ll contact you when I cross the southern border,” said Tallin, mounting the saddle. He checked his water supply one last time and tapped Duskeye on the shoulder. “Let’s go, Duskeye.” The dragon spread his cobalt wings and took flight, exiting from the large open window in the room.

  With a mixture of worry and relief, Sela watched Tallin leave, gazing ahead until his silhouette disappeared on the horizon. She glanced over at his worktable, and saw that he had finished the lion carving. She picked it up and traced it with her thumb, as she had before. Tallin had rubbed it with oil. The surface gleamed—it was smooth and beautifully polished, like carved. The little sculpture reminded her of him. I need to stop thinking of him this way, she told herself firmly. She set it down with a trembling hand and left the room.

  Tallin and Duskeye flew onward in silence. Parthos became smaller and smaller and eventually disappeared behind them.

  Tallin felt strangely uncomfortable—he had flown outside the desert countless times in the last few years, but never for more than a few weeks at a time. This was the first time he’d left Parthos without immediate plans to return.

  Duskeye sensed his unease. "Come now, let us enjoy this journey. We’ve stayed in the desert so long; this is our chance to explore the beauty of this land."

  Tallin smiled. “You’re right. If we travel at an even pace, we can enjoy the desert in bloom. Our private time is precious, I’ll try to enjoy it.” Perhaps they could even spend a day at the Southern Refuge, an oasis that had been created by Fëanor the elf years ago.

  Time slipped by, and the clouds vanished away, replaced by the colors of dusk. As evening drew near, they flew on, enjoying the gorgeous landscape.

  Eventually the sky darkene
d and the moon rose in the sky, its silver light illuminating the vast southern plain before them, a seemingly unending stretch of sand and rock. Brightly colored sandstone rose up into majestic plateaus, peppered with caverns that had once been the mating caves for hundreds of dragon females.

  Now the caves lay empty, some of them filled with the oxidizing bones of dragons, slaughtered by dragon hunters years ago.

  They flew through the night, taking advantage of the cooler temperatures. Just before dawn, they stopped to rest at a high plateau. Several abandoned caves faced the desert, and Tallin dismounted to explore each cave individually. Duskeye remained outside, waiting for Tallin to give him the signal—he was looking for a cave that didn’t have any dragon bones.

  Tallin stepped inside the first cave and stopped short. The bleached bones of a long-dead she-dragon lay inside, partially buried in the sand. The jaws were wide open in a silent scream. Near the skeleton, Tallin saw the remains of a ravaged nest: five tiny skeletons, their wing-bones still unfurled. These hatchlings were mere days old when they were slaughtered.

  “Not that one,” said Tallin quietly, stepping outside. Duskeye looked down at his feet and didn’t respond. They both knew the reason.

  Tallin walked into the second cave and breathed a sigh of relief. No bones, and the interior of the cave was spacious enough for them to sleep comfortably side-by-side. “This cave is clear,” he called out, and Duskeye followed him inside.

  The two relaxed in the sandy nook and settled down to sleep. Duskeye nodded off quickly, but Tallin remained awake. The image of the bones inside the first cave hung heavy on his mind. Tallin had discovered identical scenes many times, but it always left him feeling dejected and sad. When he finally fell asleep, his dreams were unpleasant.

  They awoke together in the early afternoon and took off again. The heat was suffocating, but they soon acclimated to the temperature. The southern desert was hotter than the north so there were fewer obvious signs of life, but within the caves and burrows there teemed a myriad of life: dune rabbits, lizards, snakes, and other creatures thrived here without any human interference.

  Shrub vegetation grew across the land, stubbornly laying deep roots despite the inhospitable heat. Large areas of bare soil competed with low vegetation cover. Here and there, a solitary palm offered meager shade. Tallin and Duskeye flew past an immense shield of black crystalline rock, hardened over the centuries, its surface radiating waves of heat, the evidence of some ancient catastrophe.

  A few days later, through a swirling cloud of dust, the Southern Oasis came into view. "Duskeye, will you look at that!” Tallin exclaimed. “The oasis has tripled in size. There’s even a small village.” The palm trees were quite dense now; the area was bursting with lush vegetation and flowering date palms. The oasis was occupied by nomads and their camel herds.

  Below them, brightly colored tents dotted the desert floor. From the sky, the tents looked like jewels upon the yellow sand. People milled around, building their campfires or working in small groups. In the center of the village, groups of women sat outside their tents, gossiping while they worked. One group prepared fresh dates for drying. Others shelled gyndi nuts, separating the greasy nut from the fibrous husk, setting it aside to use later. The nut fibers were stripped out for use in various handicrafts, including baskets, rope, hammocks, and clothing.

  Dark-skinned children laughed in the shade, playing near the sparkling pool water in the center. Date palms grew everywhere, their branches laden with ripened fruit. A ring of drought-resistant grass radiated outward from the oasis for several leagues, and camels grazed lazily.

  One of the tribesmen spotted Duskeye in the sky and shouted, “Sal-alima! Sal-alima!” which meant “dragon-rider.” Others began yelling and waving. Tallin recognized his friend, Sa’dun, signaling from the crowd below.

  “Let’s stop,” said Tallin. “I see my old friend, and I could use a bath and a hot meal.”

  Duskeye circled down and landed near a pool of clear water. Several muscled warriors guarded the oasis, their wrists, ankles, and necks tattooed with swooping runes. The nomads applied the runes during their manhood ceremony, and the markings doubled as protective wards. The guards stepped back, allowing Duskeye to drink from the spring, but they did not leave their posts. Tallin leaned down and drank a handful of water—it was cool and tasted mildly sweet.

  Tallin dismounted, feeling his feet sink into the warm sand. Young people immediately surrounded the two as they walked into the center of the village. A ring of gyndi nut trees circled the oasis. Tallin reached up, grabbing a ripe nut from a tree. The seedpod was enormous, and when he split the husk apart, the fruit inside was the largest that he’d ever seen. The magic of this place affected everything, even the size of the plants.

  “Rider-friend!” Sa’dun shouted, walking over to Tallin, both hands held up in greeting. He flashed a dazzling white smile, his dark cheeks plump and rosy. Sa’dun had never been thin, but Tallin noticed that his friend had gained weight and was now quite heavy.

  “Greetings, Sa’dun,” said Tallin. They clasped hands briefly. “You’ve been eating well, I see.”

  Sa’dun laughed, patting his round belly. “You are right! I am so joyful and fat. And my wives and children are all healthy, praise Golka!”

  Although it was not customary for ordinary tribesmen to introduce their wives, Sa’dun was now a tribal chief, so he gestured toward two women behind him. “These are my wives.”

  A male nomad was allowed up to three wives, as long as he could prove to the elders that he could support them. That number was increased to four if at least one of the women was a widow.

  “This is Mirram, my senior-wife. She is the mother of my five sons.” Mirram bowed slightly, standing behind Sa’dun with five young boys. She opened her arms proudly, touching each boy’s head. The children chattered with excitement, all trying to get a closer look at Duskeye. Mirram’s face was concealed by her carthin, a long outer garment, but Tallin could see creases around her eyes. She was smiling.

  Tallin smiled and crossed his hands in front of him in a gesture of greeting. He could tell this woman was Sa’dun’s first wife by the number of rings on her fingers.

  The other woman, crouched behind Mirram, had a baby in her arms. She kept her eyes focused on the ground. Sa’dun took her arm gently and led her forward. “This is Amfila, my second wife. She is timid, but she is a fine helpmate and a good mother. Please forgive her nervousness; she has never seen a dragon rider before.” Sa’dun whispered something in her ear, and the woman looked up, meeting Tallin’s eyes for a few seconds before looking away.

  She stepped forward quietly and lifted a corner of the blanket, presenting her chubby infant for a blessing. Sa’dun’s eyes softened, as he looked at the child with pride. “This is Mem'engwa. She is my first daughter. I have five handsome sons, and for that, I am grateful. But I prayed to the gods for a daughter, and finally they have seen fit to grant me one. Look how beautiful and round she is! She is a treasure.” Sa’dun reached out and caressed the baby’s head with his callused hand. “To a father growing old, nothing is dearer than a daughter.”

  “You have been blessed with an abundance of sturdy children, my friend.” Tallin tickled the baby’s plump foot, and she giggled. He whispered a short protection prayer and covered the baby back up. The woman made a deep curtsy and stepped back behind Mirram.

  It was obvious that Sa’dun doted on his growing family. “Children are the anchors of a father’s life. Walk with me—I want to show you what we have created here.” He escorted Tallin around the oasis, pointing out different plants and fruits that grew in abundance.

  “Years ago, there was much famine, and many infants were lost. But after this oasis was created, everything changed! Magic lingers everywhere in this place, and the trees bear fruit year-round. The water from the spring is always cool and clean. Our children are healthy, and our camel herds have doubled in size. We have enough food to feed all our
people and improve our herds.”

  “And the other tribes, do you have news of them?”

  Sa’dun went on, chattering excitedly. “The Tribe of Akhtar moved to the south last year, and we helped them with their relocation efforts. Akhtar is my kinsman; he is married to my half-sister, Imirra. The men of that tribe searched for a suitable location while their women and children stayed here. Akhtar succeeded in finding an underground spring a few leagues away. The water was deep below the soil, but our shaman, Haluk, was able to fetch it forth from the earth using magical spells.”

  “As Fëanor, the elf did here,” said Tallin.

  “Yes, although our shaman cannot match the elf’s abilities. It took Haluk many days to create the well. Fëanor created this oasis in a matter of hours!” Sa’dun’s expression grew wistful. “Oh, if only you could have seen it, my friend! The elf was amazing! His skin was so white and smooth, like a sea pearl. And when he reached out with his finger, it glowed. Everything he touched flowered and grew right before my eyes!” Sa’dun’s eyes gleamed.

  Tallin knew the story. The desert tribes considered Fëanor a hero, believing that the elf had created the oasis out of compassion, but the opposite was true. Fëanor had only created the oasis after Elias forced him to help a group of starving nomads.

  Like most elves, Fëanor was indifferent to mortals and cared little if they lived or died. Fëanor and Tallin knew each other, but they were not friends.

  Fëanor was arrogant and selfish—he barely tolerated humans and dwarves, but reserved his strongest hostility for half-lings, whose mere existence he considered an affront to the natural order. Still, Tallin didn’t want to offend Sa’dun, so he replied cautiously, “All elves are powerful spellcasters who can manipulate plants and animals. It’s good that the elf helped you create this place. Is the second oasis ready yet?”

  “Almost, but not quite—Akhtar’s men planted many date palms, and Haluk fortified them with growing spells. The trees are already in flower, and once they bear fruit, the men will take their wives and children to their new home. Our shaman Haluk returned from there only yesterday. He is resting now.”