The Serpent Cult (Heroes of Ravenford Book 2)

by F. P. Spirit

  “Friends of yours?” Donnie asked. He was staring with keen interest in the direction of the two girls.

  “It’s a long story, best saved for another time,” Aksel replied.

  Glo squared his shoulders. “Well I’m going to go talk with them.” Before anyone could object, he strode away toward the three figures.

  Elladan gazed over at the stage. “And I need to prepare for my act. Lloyd, care to join me?”

  “Sure,” Lloyd replied. His tone was distant, his mind apparently somewhere else. Aksel assumed he was still thinking about their run-ins with the pompous Sir Fafnar.

  “Mind if I tag along?” Donnie asked.

  “Sure, I’ll put you to work,” Elladan said with a half-smile.

  “I live to serve.” Donnie bowed with a flourish.

  The trio moved off, leaving Aksel and Seth alone in front of the keep. Seth appeared impatient, fidgeting from one foot to the other. “I think I will go do some scouting around. I saw some new wagons in the performers’ camp on our way up.”

  “Go ahead,” Aksel told him. It was just as well. Seth was not one to sit idly by anyways.

  Seth headed out across the courtyard, toward the gate. “See you in a bit,” he cried back over his shoulder.

  Aksel, alone now, sat down at the base of the stairs. He reviewed all that had happened the last few days. The morning’s events in particular played through his mind. He kept coming back to their encounter with the Dunwynn riders and the way they’d blanched when he said he was Maltar. An amusing idea suddenly came to him. Aksel laughed aloud at the thought. It would require a spell, and a prop or two. It would not be perfect, but if he could pull it off, it just might catch their enemies off-guard. Aksel stood up, a satisfied smile on his lips. He walked briskly through the busy courtyard toward the tower. This is going to be very interesting.

  Glowing Eyes in the Dark

  They looked like eyes—two large, glowing eyes in the inky blackness

  Seth passed through the gate and out of the keep. The road was lined with approximately twenty flamboyantly-dressed men and woman. Beside them were carts filled with props and the like. The entertainer at the front of the line stood with his hands up in the air as a castle guard patted him down. A second guard rifled through the handcart beside him. A thin smile spread across Seth’s lips. It appeared that the Baron wasn’t taking any chances. Seth veered away from the road and strode down the hill toward the campground. He had made a point of exploring the camp yesterday and counted close to forty entertainers with nearly as many tents and wagons. On their way up to the keep earlier, he had spotted a few new coaches parked on the opposite side of the camp, away from the road. That might have been coincidence, or it might have been purposeful. Either way, Seth was going to check them out.

  Seth continued downhill until he entered the camp. It was still quite busy in here, a number of performers rushing about, gathering their things for tonight’s performance. He slowly weaved his way through the wagons and tents, until he was almost to the other side of the campground. Seth snuck up behind an empty tent, then cautiously peered around the corner. The new set of wagons stood just beyond. No one appeared to be milling about. Seth counted eight new wagons in total. They were all fully enclosed, like small houses on wheels. Each was quite tall, though they varied in size and color. Some were brown, while others were green, and still others were yellow with green trim. He estimated the smallest wagon to be about eight feet by twenty. The largest was probably ten feet by twenty-five. That one would need at least four horses to pull it. Each wagon had a door in front, shuttered windows on the sides, and a hatch on top. All the shutters were pulled closed. In front of each wagon was a ladder leading up to the front door. They were on hinges and could be folded up and out of the way. Seth was familiar with these types of wagons. In fact, there were already two or three in the main campsite. An entire set like this typically belonged to either a circus or a tribe of gypsies, but there were no markings on the sides of the wagons. Definitely not a circus then. No gypsies wandering around, either.

  Seth had a funny feeling about this. There should be at least some people moving about, especially with the party beginning in just a few hours. Something was definitely not right here. He wanted a closer look. He grabbed his cloak and whispered the word, “Invisibilitate.” He could still see himself quite clearly, but knew that to the rest of the world he was invisible. The halfling crept silently into the new camp area. He stole around between the enclosed wagons, looking for a marking or some sign of life. He found nothing—not a single clue as to where these newcomers were from. The wagons themselves were all locked tight, not that that would have stopped him. He could have easily picked the locks, but a door seemingly opening by itself would certainly appear suspicious. With no other options, Seth continued to skulk around between wagons.

  A sudden movement made him freeze in his tracks. He slowly turned his head. The wagon next to him rocked slightly. It was as if something large had fallen inside. There were no noises accompanying the movement, though.

  Strange. There should have been some noise, at least.

  Seth waited silently until the rocking died down. He paused a bit longer after that, but there were no further movements. I need a look inside that wagon.

  Like all the rest, the shutters were closed tight. The door was still out of the question. That left the hatch. It was his best bet. If he was careful, whoever was inside might not see it open. Seth briefly glanced over his shoulder, but the camp around him remained vacant. He gingerly moved forward to the side of the wagon and carefully scaled it, taking great pains to make no noise. He finally reached the roof and hauled himself up. Seth silently padded across the roof to the hatch in the center of the coach.

  Locked. Of course.

  It took him less than a minute to pick it. Seth slid the hatch open a crack, taking great care not to make any sound. He knelt down and peered inside. Through the slit, he could see nothing but black. Even with his keen eyesight, he couldn’t make out any details within the cabin. He continued to stare, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the dark.

  Abruptly, two glowing shapes appeared in the inky darkness. They started out as slits, then gradually grew into thin, oval-shaped orbs. Seth held his breath, his eyes transfixed on those twin orbs. He watched curiously as they slowly spun to the left, then the right. They finally settled back to where they started. The orbs began to change shape once again. They grew more and more oval. On top of that, a dark slit appeared in the center of each one. Now they looked like eyes—two large, glowing eyes in the inky blackness. They were definitely not human though. They were more cat, or—snake like! A chill went up Seth’s spine. If this was indeed a snake, the thing was huge! He watched in fascination as the eyes grew larger.

  Whatever this thing is, it’s rising up toward the ceiling!

  Seth forced himself into action. He rolled away from the hatch and launched himself off the top of the wagon. He noiselessly tumbled to the ground below. Seth stayed there for a moment and took in his surroundings. There was still no sign of movement, nor sound to be heard—only distant noises from the other side of the camp. He had seen enough. He now knew how the Serpent Cult had made it into town. It was time to warn the others.

  Seth stood up and snuck toward the inhabited part of the camp. He had gone no more than thirty feet when he heard a noise behind him. He glanced back over his shoulder. The hatch slid open on the top of the wagon from which he had just come. Nothing came out of the hatch, but then he heard a voice yell something in a strange tongue. The hatch slid back into place with a bang. Seth began to move again, faster this time. The sooner he was away from this area, the better.

  Donatello sat in the first row in front of the stage. He leaned back leisurely and took in the sights as Elladan and the tall warrior, Lloyd, rehearsed for tonight’s show. The duo stood in one
corner of the stage, while the rest of the wide platform was populated with other acts. There was another singer, a magician, and a pair of acrobats, all warming up. Many more performers lined the benches around him. All were colorfully dressed, eagerly awaiting their turn up on stage. Donnie hadn’t seen anything like it this side of the annual fair in Lukescros. The Baron and Baroness were going all out for their daughter’s coming-of-age party.

  As he lounged there, a sultry form strode by. Donnie sat up, his interest immediately piqued. The woman was tall, her long, shapely legs and the gentle curve of her hips quite apparent in the form-fitting white leather pants and forest green leather boots she wore. A tight white shirt and forest green vest accentuated her slender shoulders and tapered waist. All this was capped with long, luxurious, light brown tresses, highlighted with golden strands that shone in the late day sun. The luscious locks fell down her shoulders, reaching nearly to the small of her back. This woman exuded confidence. She moved with a practiced grace as she strode toward the stage. As she turned to climb up the stairs, Donnie got a look at her face. She was just as beautiful as he imagined. Her face was heart-shaped, with sparkling blue eyes, an elegantly tapered nose, and high cheekbones.

  She would look superb on canvas.

  Donnie watched with keen interest as she strode across the stage. She finally stopped in front of Elladan. She then threw her arms around the bard’s neck and kissed him soundly. A wry smile crossed Donnie’s lips. He should have known. The most beautiful woman he had seen thus far in Ravenford, and she was already involved with the bard. The brown-haired beauty produced a lute and the two entertainers began to sing a duet. It was difficult to hear with all the noise on stage, but from the little he caught, he was duly impressed. Lloyd put down his drums and jumped off stage, striding over to the bench where Donnie sat. He plopped himself down next to the elven artist.

  “Who’s that?” Donnie asked nodding toward Elladan’s companion.

  “Oh, that’s Shalla,” Lloyd replied genially. “She and Elladan are good friends.”

  “No doubt,” Donnie remarked, not taking his eyes off the pair.

  “They’re doing a duet in tonight’s show,” Lloyd continued.

  Donnie nodded. “I figured as much. I’ve seen Elladan perform before, you know—back in Lukescros, at the fair last year.”

  Lloyd glanced at him, a wistful expression on his face. “I’ve been to the fair there. Not last year though. How did he do?”

  “He barely lost to Cassilla Nightbird,” Donnie told him.

  “The Cassilla Nightbird?” Lloyd asked, his eyes widening.

  “The one and only.” Donnie gave him a knowing smile. Cassilla Nightbird was the most famous songstress in Thac—possibly in the world.

  “I didn’t take you for a music lover,” he confided in Lloyd.

  The tall youth laughed. “I’m not, exactly. An old friend of mine is a singer. In fact, she’s on tour with Cassilla right now.”

  Donnie raised an eyebrow. That’s impressive. He was about to ask more about this friend of Lloyd’s when they were interrupted. Someone behind them was crying out the young man’s name. Donnie spun around.

  A slender young woman in a gorgeous, emerald green gown strode towards them. She was quite lovely. She had an oval face with a tiny nose, pert lips, and a delicate chin. Her electric blue eyes stood out against her cream-colored skin. Her youthful features were framed by well-coiffed tresses of strawberry blonde hair. Parted down the middle, they flowed around her face then were pulled back where they fell past her shoulders. Elegant pearl earrings dangled from her ears. A matching pearl necklace fell across her amble bodice. She was quite obviously nobility. He and Lloyd rose from their seats as she reached them.

  “There you are, Lloyd!” the young woman declared. “I’ve been looking all over for you. There are some people I would like you to meet.”

  Donnie doffed his hat and bowed low. “And who is this ravishing young lady?”

  Lloyd sounded somewhat embarrassed. “Oh, this is the Lady Andrella. Andrella, this is Donatello. He is a good friend of Elladan’s.”

  Donatello did a double take. “The Lady Andrella? The one for whom tonight’s party is being held?” He was completely taken off guard by her abrupt appearance here.

  “Guilty as charged,” Andrella replied with an impish smile. She gave him a courtly curtsey then added, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  “Oh, no, your Ladyship, the pleasure is all mine,” Donnie said with an extravagant wave of his hand, smoothly recovering from his momentary lapse.

  She smiled brightly at Donnie, then spoke in a polite voice. “If you will please excuse us.” She brushed past him and grabbed Lloyd’s hand, dragging the young man off with her, back toward the keep.

  “More and more interesting,” Donnie murmured. This was quite a group he had fallen in with—Elladan by himself seemed to be well on his way to fame and fortune, but these folks were taking things to a whole new level. From what he had just seen, the Lady Andrella, the proverbial heir to the Duchy of Dunwynn, the largest city on the east coast of Thac, was smitten with the young Lloyd. Assuming that nothing came between the two, he just might very well be associating with the next Duke of Dunwynn.

  Well then, Donatello, it looks like your luck is finally turning around.

  He sat back down to watch Elladan and Shalla rehearse. His mind was a million miles away though, visions of being the court-appointed artist for the City of Dunwynn dancing through his head.

  Elladan was still rehearsing with Shalla when the screams rang out. He spun around and saw the other performers fleeing off the stage. A sudden breeze kicked up all around them.

  “Up there!” someone cried.

  Elladan peered upward and saw the source of the mayhem. A dragon hung above the stage, about 50 feet in the air! Its great wings beat slowly, kicking up the wind around them, as it descended toward the stage. It had reddish-brown scales, speckled here and there with turquoise-colored spots. That was a copper dragon.

  “I don’t know what all the fuss is about,” Shalla said from behind him. She was shading her eyes with one hand as she stared up in the sky. “It’s only a metallic dragon, after all.”

  A short laugh escaped Elladan’s lips. “Not everyone is knowledgeable about dragons.”

  She shook her head. “More’s the pity—this one’s a beautiful shade of copper.”

  “I couldn’t agree more,” a voice added from off to one side. They turned to see Donnie climb up on stage. “Too bad we can’t explain that to all these panicky folks.” He nodded towards the crowd behind him. “Folks are running like mad and screaming for the castle guards. This might get ugly fast.”

  Elladan gazed around the courtyard. The crowd of performers cowered behind the rear benches, and some had already broken into a run. Farther back, castle guards charged across the field toward the stage. Donnie is right; this could get ugly. While copper dragons were friendly, any dragon that was attacked would not hesitate to fight back. Many innocent folks might die.

  Elladan turned to Shalla. “Go and see if you can calm those folks down. We’ll handle the dragon.”

  “Right.” Shalla ran to the end of the stage and leapt off. She took out her lute as she strode toward the crowd and played a soothing tune. “Everybody quiet down,” she sang in a dulcet tone.

  The copper dragon had touched down in the middle of the stage. Elladan whispered to Donnie. “I think I know of this dragon. Follow my lead.”

  He strode across the stage toward the dragon when movement out in the courtyard caught his eye. The castle guards had reached the benches and were forming a line in front of the stage. Oh, great. That’s the last thing we need. Elladan stopped in his tracks. First things first. The dragon would wait. It was not the aggressor here.

  Then Shalla was there, talking
calmly with one of the guards. It was Francis! Thank the gods. Elladan knew this guard would be reasonable. He saw Shalla point up toward him. Francis’ eyes flickered his way and the guard sighed with obvious relief. He waved up toward Elladan and cried, “You sure you’ve got this?”

  “Not a problem,” Elladan answered, flashing the guard a half-smile.

  “Very well.” Francis turned around and held up his hands, forcing the other guards to stand back.

  Elladan gave Shalla a quick smile and mouthed the words Thank you. She winked back at him.

  “That’s quite a woman you’ve got there,” Donnie said.

  Elladan nodded. “She certainly is.”

  Elladan swung back around to face the dragon. The creature sat comfortably on its hind legs in the center of the stage, its wings folded in close to its body. Its sinuous neck protruded forward, and its turquoise eyes were regarding him curiously from behind the long snout. Overall, it was not large by dragon standards, perhaps fifteen feet tall where it sat. Elladan got the impression that the dragon understood everything that had been said around it. Yet dragons were a very proper race. They appreciated being spoken to in their own language. Luckily, Elladan had an ear for sounds, and picked up languages quite easily. One of those languages just happened to be Draconic.

  “Hail, friend,” he said to the dragon in its own language. “Might you be Calipherous?”

  “Indeed I am,” the dragon replied in its native tongue. The words rumbled from its large throat in a deep baritone. “It’s very kind of you to speak to me in my own language.”

  “Courtesy is what separates us civilized folk from the others,” Donnie said in perfect Draconic. Elladan cast a glance at the other elf, his eyebrow arched. Donnie merely smiled and winked back at him. Elladan shook his head. The slight elf never ceased to amaze him.