The Faithful Traitor (Wizard & Dragon Book 2)

by Robert Don Hughes

  “The thought never entered my mind.” Nebalath sniffed, then he turned his gaze back into the cell. “Why did they lock you in here?”

  “I was trying to save them.”

  “Ah.” The old wizard nodded knowingly. “Typical Remnantic behavior, especially from those idiotic Keepers of one thing and another. I’ll bet you tried to tell the king something they didn’t want him to know?”

  “Yes, like the fact that if he talked to the dragon he would end up being —” Seagryn suddenly stared up at Nebalath. “There may be time yet!” He bolted up the short hallway to the door into the throne room and threw it open. He then raced around the dais and into the corridor that led to the Outer Portal. The ramp was still down, and Seagryn clattered halfway down the stairs, taking them three at a time until he could see out from under the arching overhang across the pass to where he’d left the dragon and the army. Then he stopped.

  The canyon floor was covered with literally thousands of brilliant gold helmets and breastplates. But the bodies that had been in them were — gone.

  “It couldn’t have eaten them that fast. It couldn’t!” Seagryn shouted at himself, but even as he spoke, he realized the truth. Within the system of caves Sheth called his Dragonforge, that evil sorcerer had shown Seagryn his tiny prototype dragon made of two rodents. Seagryn had been obliged to watch as the mouse-dragon had incinerated a squirrel. The little monster had not thrown flames: It had just gazed at the squirrel with both heads at once and somehow created fire within the squirrel itself. Within moments only ashes had remained. Now, as he gazed at what had briefly been a battlefield, Seagryn knew with certainty that under each of those fallen helmets he would And a similar pile of ash. The Remnant was lost. And far across the pass sat the creature responsible. The two heads of the dragon appeared to be engrossed in conversation with themselves.

  Seagryn screamed, venting both his grief and his rage. Quick as a thought, he took his tugolith shape and charged forward. He actually tumbled to the bottom of the stairs — they certainly were not wide enough to offer footing to such enormous feet — but his armor-plated body didn’t notice the fall. He immediately scrambled to his feet and launched himself horn first across the pass toward the dragon. He would ram his horn through the thing if it was the last thing he —

  CRASH!

  A bone-jarring blow knocked him back on his haunches and threatened to tear his horn loose from his forehead. It left him stunned, yet he’d never seen what had hit him. Or rather, what he’d hit —

  Nebalath appeared beside him, a smug smile on his face. “Just in case I never get around to writing that book — that’s called a ‘barrier.’ ”

  “My head hurts,” Seagryn groaned. He took his human form and began to massage the throbbing spot right above the bridge of his nose.

  “I had to do something.” The older wizard shrugged. “What were you trying to do? Did you think you could just charge the thing?”

  Just charge the thing. He had heard that strategy before … Seagryn heard a distant squawk and looked up to see the dragon take to the air. “He’s coming after us instead,” he muttered bitterly.

  “I doubt it.” Nebalath sniffed. He clasped his hands behind his back as he watched the beast rise into the air. “I’ve taken the precaution of cloaking us. Might I say that while you have great talent, Seagryn, you’re an inconsistent powershaper? You don’t think.”

  “Who made you my teacher?” Seagryn grumbled as he staggered to his feet.

  “As someone who expects to work closely with you in the future, I consider it in my best interest to see you mature as a wizard as quickly as possible. After all, I may need you to save me someday. Shall we go?”

  “Go?” Seagryn asked wearily. “Go where?”

  “To Pleclypsa. Dark is in a bad way, and I hoped you might do something to help him. I’ve been looking for you for some time, Seagryn. It’s critical that we get to him as soon as possible.” Nebalath turned and started to walk toward the south.

  Seagryn craned his neck to look back at the Outer Portal. It yawned wide, an open invitation to anyone to come plunder its secrets. Seagryn suddenly realized what it most resembled. “It’s nothing but a giant mausoleum,” he murmured. Then another thought occurred, and he added, “And that’s really all it has been for two hundred years — the tomb of the old One Land.”

  “I say!” Nebalath called back at him. “Would you please hurry up? If it were just me, I’d cast myself back down there this instant, but since you say you lack that particular gift, we have several days of hard riding before us, if we can buy some horses from the Paumer house just inside Haranamous. On the other hand,” the powershaper added, more to himself than to Seagryn, “I’m not certain if I’d want to pop back down to Kerily’s palace after all. No telling what the woman has torn out by this time.”

  Seagryn pondered. What else was there to do? He could go back to Elaryl, he guessed. And yet — “What’s wrong with Dark?” he asked.

  “That’s the point,” Nebalath said. “I don’t know and I was hoping you might. Shall we go see?”

  They walked southward. Seagryn was grateful that, while their route took them past the battle site, it didn’t lead them through it. He didn’t think he could stand to see a tiny pile of ashes next to a digging tool …

  “By the way,” Nebalath said. “You do need to be careful, you know. Everyone in the world wants to kill you.”

  *

  The two walkers were well out of the pass long before the horse came thundering up the incline from the west. Wilker had ridden it hard and the beast was exhausted, but his terrified anticipation of what he might find would not permit the Undersecretary for Provincial Affairs to rest until he got home. While still miles away, he saw that the Outer Portal was open. Chilled by the sight, he drove his mount onward. Then he saw the army of scattered helmets, without people to fill them, and he knew with certainty that his worst fears had come to pass.

  He denied it as long as there was any hope. He rode to the foot of the staircase and jumped from the horse to race up the steps. He plunged down the corridor and into the throne room, then veered off down one of the yellow corridors, calling all the names he could think of at the top of his lungs.

  Evening had fallen outside when he finally wandered dazedly back down the staircase and out. He peered across the pass through the purple twilight and thought he saw the form of a two-headed dragon in silhouette against the far cliffs. Something twisted inside him, and suddenly he was running, running as fast as he could toward the dragon, his arms open in an embrace of death. And he shouted as he ran, “Eat me, too! Eat me, too! Eat me, too!”

  Alas, it wasn’t to be. The dragon was gone. Wilker sat on a helmet and wept.

  Chapter Nine: DARK DREAMS

  LATE the next afternoon Seagryn sat on horseback under the shade of a tree, stoically holding on to the reins of another mount. They had purchased the horses from the Paumer house located at the foot of the Central Gate’s southern mouth, but Nebalath seemed unable to remain on his for very long at a time. He’d just disappeared for the third time today, and Seagryn’s patience was fast wearing thin.

  At the older wizard’s insistence, he had tried to perform Nebalath’s trick himself, but so far he just didn’t seem able to do it. The other spells he knew had come naturally to him at the instant Seagryn had needed them. He guessed that he wouldn’t learn this one until it became truly necessary.

  “Or maybe I just don’t have the confidence to do anything anymore,” Seagryn murmured to himself, adding bitterly, “And why should I?” He had done everything in his power to save the Remnant, but it hadn’t been enough. He knew he wasn’t responsible. That rested upon the Keepers of the kingdom, who had sacrificed an entire people to protect a falsehood! Even so, he couldn’t think of that tragedy without feeling horrible guilt. He mourned those Inside whom he’d come to know — especially little Merkle. More and more he caught himself directing accusations at the Power, such
as, “How could you have let it happen?” Thus far he’d received no reply.

  Now they were bound for Pleclypsa — or would be, whenever Nebalath returned. Would it be any different there? His shaper abilities had caused nothing but trouble for himself and everyone around him. Why should he expect to be of any help to Dark? Seagryn turned his gaze back to a particular spot in the roadway and sank deeper into despair. Where was Nebalath? What if a band of assassins were to pass by this spot? Was he just to sit and wait?

  Suddenly the wait was over, for Nebalath reappeared suspended five feet up over thin air. The wizard only had time for a surprised gasp before he landed on his backside in the dust. He immediately bounded to his feet and raced toward Seagryn, screaming furiously, “Why did you move my horse? I told you to hold my horse and to stay right there!”

  Seagryn gazed at the charging powershaper impassively. “And I told you that I’m weary of your popping in and out all the time, without telling me where you’re going or how long you’ll be gone.”

  “You know good and well where I’m going!” Nebalath snapped as he finally reached his horse and struggled to climb onto its broad back. “I’m preparing people along the way to receive us!”

  “How much warning do they need?” Seagryn grumbled.

  “Enough to be ready to make us comfortable! You may be accustomed to riding around on the backs of these smelly beasts, but I am not. I’ve just made sure that we’ll each have a scented bath drawn at the Imperial House by the time we arrive.”

  “When will that be?”

  “By nightfall,” Nebalath answered gruffly, “if you’ll quit talking and start riding!”

  Seagryn shrugged. “It isn’t me who keeps stopping in the middle of the road.”

  “Why did you move my horse?” Nebalath demanded again.

  “I asked you to remain there so I could reappear directly on his back! Instead you hang me out in midair, like some washerwoman’s drying laundry!”

  “You came down quickly enough,” Seagryn said. After the older wizard finished cursing him, he calmly went on to explain, “If you’ll take the time to look, you’ll notice this spot is shady. Where you disappeared — and landed — is out in the hot sun. Should you decide to cast yourself elsewhere any time soon, consider leaving us in the shade.” Seagryn looked around at Nebalath and gently spurred the flanks of his steed. “Are you planning to pop off again in the near future?”

  “How should I know?” Nebalath grumbled as he awkwardly urged his mount back up onto the road. “Riding horses is so boring. How do people stand it?”

  “It’s not so bad,” Seagryn said, patting his horse’s neck affectionately. He would have preferred riding Kerl, but this horse had a mature attitude, and the ride had been reasonably relaxed.

  Nebalath wasn’t finished complaining. “If you’d just learn to cast yourself we could be there by now.”

  “But I’ve never been to Pleclypsa,” Seagryn answered evenly. “I thought you said you never cast yourself to a spot you’ve never visited, for fear you might wind up in the middle of a wall.”

  Nebalath snarled in frustration. “You’d be surprised how things change in spite of knowing where you’re going. People move your horse,” he said, throwing Seagryn a pointed glare. “Or they tear down whole towers …”

  Seagryn had heard all this before, but he saw no point in interrupting. He watched the passing scenery as Nebalath waved his arms and shouted.

  “That Kerily woman! Every time I go to Pleclypsa, she’s changed her mind again! She’s had a new dome built, you see, and when I appeared there this morning she was harassing some poor artist who was trying to paint a fresco on the ceiling. Just you watch! By the time we arrive she’ll have decided to tear the whole building down and start over!”

  That was still two days away, Seagryn thought to himself. They planned to spend tonight in the Imperial House and the next night on the road. As Nebalath rambled on, he turned his thoughts to Haranamous and wondered what kind of reception he would receive there. He’d left the city a conquering hero, having saved it from the Armada of Arl. The thought brightened his mood, for after all — wasn’t that an example of some good he had done as a powershaper? Perhaps old King Haran would welcome him back with a fanfare of trumpets and a gala party … Excited by the possibility, Seagryn spurred his mount to a gallop, forcing Nebalath to shut up and ride. By the time they topped a small rise and saw the Golden City spread out below them, Seagryn was beginning to feel good about himself again.

  Nebalath reined in beside him and looked down at the city. “No doubt those streets are teeming with assassins by this time. We can’t take the chance of letting you be recognized. I’ll disguise us as a pair of merchants.”

  Seagryn sighed. With that single statement the older wizard had destroyed his buoyant mood. “Will all of this ever be over?” he wondered aloud.

  “Do I look like Dark?” Nebalath said peevishly. “I’m a shaper, not a seer. But it stands to reason none of this will end until we kill that dreaded dragon, and we’re not likely to learn how to do that without Dark’s special knowledge. We need to get the lad some help.”

  Suddenly Seagryn had a thought that sent a shiver of fear down his spine. “These assassination squads — they wouldn’t hurt Elaryl, would they?” Nebalath’s frown didn’t help to ease his fears, but then the old wizard’s face brightened.

  “As I told you, I’ve met your wife. She seemed highly capable of handling herself in any situation. But just in case, would you like for me to cast myself up to Lamath and see how she’s getting on?”

  “Right now?” Seagryn frowned.

  “Oh no,” Nebalath chuckled, shaking his gray head. “At the moment I’m far too interested in dinner and a bath. But after we’ve settled in for the night. I’ll pay her a visit and set your mind at ease. Shall we go?”

  Seagryn felt greatly comforted by this suggestion, and it deepened his appreciation for his fellow powershaper. As they rode through the gates of Haranamous, he was already looking forward to hearing Nebalath’s report.

  They passed through the streets of the city’ without incident. Soon the battlements of the Imperial House loomed above them, and Seagryn peered up at them doubtfully. The castle hadn’t seemed to like him much the last time he’d visited. He wondered how it would regard him now.

  He had his answer immediately, for the Imperial House addressed them while they were still a good distance up the street. Rather, it spoke to Nebalath, and Seagryn overheard.

  — So, you’ve brought the novice powershaper back with you, the Imperial House said condescendingly.

  Nebalath rose to Seagryn’s defense, sitting up in his saddle and pointing up at the walls as he called, “You just remember, House. Were it not for the help of this ‘novice’ wizard, you’d be flying the black flags of the Army of Arl!”

  — Would that have been so bad? the House wondered.

  “I don’t know.” Nebalath smiled. “I do know that the Arlian king is crazy. He might have thoroughly rearranged your innards. What do you think of that?”

  — From all it can gather, this House would have far more to fear should it fall into the hands of Kerily, wife of Paumer. Incidentally, your bath has been drawn.

  “Good, good!” Nebalath crowed. Seagryn had not seen him this enthusiastic all day long. Nebalath twisted around to Seagryn and began to report the conversation. “The House says they have everything ready for us —”

  “I heard what it said,” Seagryn murmured. “As well as how it said it.”

  “That’s right, you can hear it, can’t you? Seagryn … Try not to let its comments disturb you.” He leaned toward Seagryn’s ear and spoke softly. “You know how bad tempered older people can become? Just remember. This House is really, really old.” He sat up straight in his saddle, smiled broadly, and called, “Open your gates, palace! We’re riding in!”

  — This House will try to restrain its joy, the Imperial House said sarcastically, and Nebalat
h cackled in appreciation. He was home, and Seagryn felt glad for him. He wondered when — or if — he would ever feel the same …

  *

  Fed, bathed, and dressed in wonderfully clean garments, Seagryn sat in his apartments, waiting anxiously for Nebalath’s return. The older wizard had departed several hours ago. Why was it taking so long?

  — Someone is coming to see you, the Imperial House suddenly announced, causing Seagryn to jump in surprise. The castle hadn’t spoken since Nebalath departed — were these words intended for him?

  “Are you talking to me?” he asked the ceiling.

  — Why would this House talk to those who cannot understand it? It is you she’s coming to see.

  “Who — who’s coming to see me?” Seagryn stammered, climbing up onto his bed and looking from one wall to another. Talking to this castle was unnerving. How could he look it in the eyes?

  — The lady’s name is Fylynn. She is a close friend of Nebalath — and highly regarded by this House as well.

  “Why is she coming to talk to me?” Seagryn asked.

  — You have a mutual acquaintance, if this House understands rightly. She’s at the door. You could greet her there, the House suggested.

  The Imperial House of Haranamous had watched the interactions of people for centuries and had strong feelings about the value of good manners. Seagryn didn’t argue. He walked to the door and opened it before she knocked.

  “Well!” the surprised woman said. She then smiled brightly and asked, “Do you read minds? Or do you, too, have a personal relationship with the walls?”

  “I — the House told me you were coming, yes,” Seagryn murmured. She smiled again, then pointed into the room and raised her eyebrows. “I’m sorry,” Seagryn apologized, finally getting the message. “Do come in.”

  Fylynn stepped past him, and Seagryn closed the door and turned around to face her. She was a big-boned woman with a jolly face whose features nevertheless seemed to argue with one another. Her mouth seemed too large to match her small-set gray eyes. Yet upon that big mouth Fylynn wore a winning smile, and those eyes sparkled with a mischief Seagryn saw instantly could be contagious. He couldn’t mistake her occupation, for she wore the traditional motley of the court jester — varicolored patches of fabric stitched together into a beautifully colored yet somewhat ragged costume. It called immediate attention to her figure, which also seemed somehow mismatched. While Fylynn had a small upper body, her hips suggested she might be overload of sweets. At the same time, her oddly matched face radiated its own kind of sweetness. More than that, it boldly proclaimed her quick wit. As she watched Seagryn’s eyes forming his first impression of her, she grabbed one of the three tails of her jester’s cap and held it out in front of her. “Look!” she cried. “A horn!” She struck a pose, her left hand out to her side and her left foot cocked up into the air. “Think I’d make a good tugolith?” she asked.