The Faithful Traitor (Wizard & Dragon Book 2)

by Robert Don Hughes

  Seagryn’s eyes widened, and his head jerked back as if he’d been struck. “A — what?”

  Fylynn grinned — not with malice, but not with much respect, either. “Aren’t you Seagryn the horny? Ah — that is, Seagryn the great horned beast?”

  “I …”

  “You …” she mocked as he struggled for words.

  “I’m Seagryn, yes,” he said flatly.

  “And I,” she grinned impishly, “am Fylynn the fat!” She let her “horn” fall into her face and bowed theatrically. Then she straightened back up and smiled at him more honestly. “But you needn’t call me by my title. In fact, I’d rather prefer you didn’t —” She brushed girlish light-brown bangs out of her eyes and glanced around his room. “So,” she said. “Nebalath told me you were coming.”

  Seagryn nodded. “Was there some particular thing you wished to see me about?” Fylynn looked back over her shoulder at him, and he thought she might have blushed a bit. Then she shrugged rather shyly, as if she were finding it difficult to tell him exactly why she’d come. So — beneath her brash front there was a certain vulnerability. Seagryn found that appealing.

  “Well …” she said, drawing out the word. Then she looked at him directly. “I might as well plunge on, right? What can you tell me about Sheth?”

  Seagryn blinked. “About Sheth?”

  “Oh, yes,” she sighed, and there was no mistaking the love-struck look in her eyes — no mistaking it, yet Seagryn found it near impossible to believe. This was no giddy teenager. Fylynn was in her late twenties at least. She noted his surprise and smiled ruefully. “Am I foolish, do you think?”

  “Foolish?”

  “I mean, I know Sheth is an evil, cannibalistic monster who takes perverse pleasure in corrupting every positive notion that ever crosses his mind, that he’s the archenemy of Haranamous, and that he treats me like dirt, and yet — those dimples!” She half lidded her eyes and sighed lustily. “That man is so pretty …” Sheth, pretty? Seagryn thought incredulously. Then came the strange realization that he agreed. It shocked him to admit it, but he thought he understood the attraction Fylynn felt for the dragonmaker. He’d even mentioned it once to Elaryl, during the time they’d been forced to spend with Sheth in the Dragonforge. She’d laughed at him and assured him that Sheth held no attraction for her. But Seagryn wondered if she’d told him the truth … The man had a sinister power about him, an air of compelling confidence as enthralling as it was repellant. But Seagryn didn’t feel at all comfortable admitting that to this stranger. “I don’t know what you mean,” he murmured.

  Fylynn opened her eyes and smiled at him like a satisfied cat. “Doesn’t matter, I know. And I understand you’ve been with him lately?”

  “Not lately,” Seagryn said, shaking his head. “Months ago.”

  “That’s lately enough for me! How was he?”

  Seagryn frowned. He could understand the woman’s attraction for Sheth, but he found her willingness to reveal it most improper. Lamathian women didn’t act this way! Or, at least, not in the presence of a cleric … He stiffened and answered her questions with exaggerated politeness. “I really cannot tell you much. He was quite angry with me when we parted.”

  Fylynn raised her eyebrows. “Really? Why?”

  “He had been torturing a monster and apparently wasn’t finished. I set the beast free.”

  “Then the tale is true,” the woman said — and she sounded now like a woman and less like an overgrown girl. “Sheth made the dragon, and you released it on the world.”

  “That’s essentially correct, yes — although I’ve heard it rumored that I’m the beast’s maker, not he.”

  “I’m sure that infuriates him.” She smiled knowingly. This woman obviously knew Sheth well. “But I’ve heard you described as less the dragon’s maker and more the dragon’s — pet?”

  Seagryn’s ears burned with embarrassment, but he still managed to shrug and say, “The world apparently is calling me many things these days.”

  “Oh yes.” Fylynn grinned ruefully. “Such colorful names!” She let her smile die slowly. “But then, the world calls Sheth many things as well … some of them just as unfair.” She saw Seagryn’s lip curl disdainfully at Sheth’s name and shrugged almost helplessly. “I know. It’s difficult to see how someone could love the unlovely. But you may have noticed, Seagryn, that I am not all that lovely myself. I have known him — and loved him — for a very long time. He’s a complex man; despite his great power, he is — in ways — quite weak …” She paused as if waiting for some response.

  Seagryn nodded in curt agreement. He’d seen Sheth’s weaknesses — his fears, his insecurities, and his self-doubts — and had imagined how he might exploit these the next time he and Sheth battled. He had no doubt they would again, eventually. Still, Seagryn had been a cleric far longer than he’d been a shaper. His empathy for others had forced him to try to see things from Sheth’s perspective, and he readily understood how Sheth’s enormous magical talent had bent the man’s personality. After all, Seagryn constantly battled within himself that same warping power. If this woman truly understood Sheth, did she also understand him?

  Fylynn tilted her head and looked at him compassionately. “Shapers,” she murmured quietly, “are a very small, misunderstood fraternity. People hate you because they fear your power. How many of them guess that you fear it, too?”

  So, she did understand. And now Seagryn understood why Nebalath — and the walls — regarded Fylynn so warmly. “Yes.”

  Fylynn smiled sweetly and leaned back away from him. “As for me, I guess I’m just a fan of wizards.” Her eyes narrowed as she added seriously, “Perhaps because I see you as our only hope.” Then, as if she had suddenly caught herself being pretentious, she clapped her hands and said, “Besides! You’re all so cute!”

  Seagryn had nothing to say to that. He was greatly relieved when Nebalath appeared in the room a moment later, blinking and glancing around. “Hello, Fylynn.” He smiled, then turned and nodded at Seagryn. “Your lady is safe,” he said reassuringly. “Said she talked to you the other day — or dreamed she did. If you can send your shadow, Seagryn, I don’t see why you can’t throw the rest of your body —”

  “Did you warn her about assassins? Is she taking any precautions? Has anyone attacked her?”

  Nebalath’s frown indicated his impatience at being interrupted. “I told you, she’s safe. Be reasonable, Seagryn. Your father-in-law is an Elder of Lamath! The house is well protected. Besides, it’s widely known that you’ve left her and are traveling with the dragon. It’s you they want to kill, not your wife. She’s a formidable woman, and quite intelligent — even if she is absolutely convinced that the Power is going to care for her.” Nebalath allowed himself a contemptuous chuckle as he mentioned the Power. “It’s you she’s worried about. Evidently she doesn’t believe this so-called ‘Power’ is quite so able — or willing — to protect you. What’s the matter, Seagryn — haven’t you been acting spiritual enough?”

  It was a mocking question and not worth a reply. But Seagryn thought he understood Elaryl’s concern. No, he hadn’t been particularly in touch with that One Who Shapes the Future recently. If Elaryl had been trying to send him a message about the value of faith, she’d succeeded. Despite the weariness of the road, he found it difficult to sleep …

  The next morning he was surprised and pleased to learn that Fylynn was traveling with them. It seemed Pleclypsa was her home, and certainly her combination of warmth and wit made the two-day journey easier. It gave him someone to talk to when Nebalath disappeared.

  The old wizard had thoroughly forewarned Kerily of their arrival, and they were welcomed to the House of Paumer with great ceremony. Uda’s mother reserved her most sparkling smiles for Seagryn. “We are so glad you have agreed to come,” she said breathlessly, batting her eyelashes at him. Just as he’d immediately appreciated Fylynn’s frankness, Seagryn was instantly put off by Kerily’s artificial smile. The wom
an wasted no time in cutting him out of the group and ushering him toward the staircase. She seemed almost annoyed when they met her daughter coming toward them. Seagryn had not seen Uda since the day he’d freed the dragon, but Kerily permitted them only a quick exchange of greetings before leading him up the stairs and into the room where Dark had spent the past few months. The woman obviously viewed Seagryn as someone come to perform a task, and she wanted the job done now.

  While Seagryn was excited about seeing Dark again, he was also worried about him. He’d seen the effects of the boy’s mental despair before. “How is he?” he asked Uda.

  Kerily didn’t seem to feel Uda was capable of responding for herself and answered for her. “He sleeps all the time, that’s how he is. Didn’t Nebalath tell you?”

  Seagryn saw exasperation in Uda’s eyes. He’d always felt sorry for the girl, knowing her father as he did. Suddenly his feelings of sympathy doubled. “Yes, Nebalath told me that,” he said, “but it didn’t make much sense.” Seagryn walked alone into Dark’s blue-walled room and looked down at the lad. “I remember that he often had difficulty sleeping.”

  “I’m not asleep,” the lad growled, not turning around. “How I wish I could sleep!”

  Uda looked suddenly at Seagryn, her eyes wide. He gave her a knowing nod, then addressed Dark’s back. “Hello, my friend.”

  “Hello, Seagryn.”

  “I suppose you knew I’d be here today.”

  “Certainly.”

  Seagryn sat on the bed and patted the boy’s shoulder. “Kerily says you sleep all the time —”

  “I pretend to sleep whenever she comes around. Wouldn’t you, if you were me?”

  Seagryn stiffed a smile and got right to the heart of the matter. “What is it. Dark? What have you seen?”

  “Do you really want to know?”

  It was the young prophet’s constant inquiry, always delivered with the same flat, expressionless intonation, and always intended as a warning. Dark both saw everything that was to happen and knew at the same time that he was powerless to change it. He considered himself to live in bondage to the future — and tried as much as possible to spare others from the same fate.

  “How would I know if I wanted to or not?” Seagryn answered. “You know why I’m here and probably knew it weeks ago. You know what you’ll say, what I’ll say, and whether any good can come from your telling me what you’ve seen — or if it’s better that I not know. And of course, you knew I’d say this.”

  “Every word.”

  “So let’s just skip on to living through the moment, shall we?” Seagryn loved Dark. And yet it seemed that each time they talked about the future he found himself angry with the boy. He didn’t know why. Perhaps it was the frustration at being made to feel so predictable.

  “We are, Seagryn,” Dark murmured as he finally released his knees and rolled over to look at them. “This is the moment we’re living through. Knowing what we’ll talk about in an hour won’t speed that hour to us — in fact, for me, it makes the time pass even slower. None of you can really understand me, despite how hard you try. I dread certain upcoming events, true, but I look forward with eagerness to others. In either case, though, I must endure the tedium of waiting for the rest of you to catch up. By the time you do, I’m already days ahead …” Dark let out a loud sigh and stared hopelessly at the ceiling. “And I can’t sleep — not really. When I sleep, I dream of the future, and it’s just like being awake …”

  “Is there anything I can do to help?” Seagryn asked gently.

  Dark rolled back to the wall. “You can go do whatever you choose to do, and not talk to me about it.”

  “But what do I —”

  “At all.” After a moment of silence Dark looked back over his shoulder and added, “Please?”

  Seagryn gazed at him for a moment, then nodded once and walked out of the room. Uda and her mother pursued him down the stairs. “What was that all about?” Kerily demanded. “What happened?” she said again as Seagryn appeared to ignore her.

  Nebalath and Fylynn waited at the bottom of the staircase. Their serious expressions reflected back his own. “Well?” Nebalath asked, his gray eyebrows raised.

  Seagryn shrugged helplessly. “He’s seen his own future — and doubtless ours, as well. It’s filled him full of dread — yet none of us can do anything to prevent it.” He lowered his head and said nothing more.

  “You mean that’s it?” Kerily exploded after a moment of silence. “That’s all you’re going to do, just walk up there and exchange two sentences with him and turn away?”

  “What else do you expect us to do?”

  “I don’t know!” he snapped, her eyes wide. “I’m not the wizard. You are! I should have taken Ognadzu’s advice days ago!” Uda, who’d been listening to all of this with embarrassment, suddenly looked at her mother and frowned.

  “Ognadzu?” Uda said. “You’ve talked to Ognadzu?”

  Kerily realized she’d said too much, for now her mouth sealed shut. She seemed to be searching about inside herself for that same enigmatic smile with which she’d greeted them.

  “Mother?” Uda demanded. “Has Ognadzu been here?”

  Kerily found it at last, and it blossomed upon her face: the Paumer House smile, an exact replica of that of her husband. “Where are my manners?” she said brightly. “You must be famished after all your travels!”

  Fylynn had watched all of this with quiet amusement, and Seagryn knew her private commentary later would be hilarious. He glanced at her to catch her reaction and saw her gazing up the staircase in surprise. “Look!” she commanded, and they all did.

  Dark stood on the landing behind them, weaving unsteadily upon his little-used legs. “Dark!” Uda cried. “You’re up!”

  “Of course I’m up,” he mumbled, smiling slightly and clinging to the handrail. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

  “Miss what?” Nebalath asked. “This discussion?”

  “Not the discussion. This!” Dark said, pointing above their heads — and then they saw it.

  They stood under the same trellis from which Nebalath had rescued Kerily’s green kitten. Though it had only been in place a few weeks it already looked as if it had stood there forever. In an attempt to make it look old, her gardeners had transplanted long tendrils of ivy from some ancient tower and had carefully woven them through every slat. There were a few places, however, where the sunbeams pierced the green canopy to throw patterns of light on the courtyard’s tiled floor, and it was to one of these openings Dark pointed. All eyes were watching the precise spot when a tiny, two-headed creature suddenly shot down through it and glided in lazy circles above their heads on leathery, batlike wings. The watchers gasped in unison, like a choir. It was Seagryn who announced to all what it was. “The mouse-dragon! That’s Sheth’s mouse-dragon!”

  Sheth had experimented upon rodents before transforming a pair of tugoliths into Vicia-Heinox. This had been his prototype — a tiny dragon formed of two mice. It had two mouselike heads stretching upward from a rat’s body upon long, scaly necks. It also had a rat’s bald, pink tail. But the creature’s wings, ridged back, and glistening teeth were a tiny replica of those features on Vicia-Heinox. Although small, the mouse-dragon could terrify, and it did that just now as it hovered above them with its long necks weaving its heads about. It appeared to be looking for something. When it spotted its target, it dived.

  “Mee-YOWL!” Seagryn heard some animal screech, then he saw a green blur dart out of its hiding place and flash across the floor. The dragon came after it in hot pursuit, and Seagryn watched in astonishment as a cat the green of an emerald suddenly froze in place and rose up on its hind legs to bat the pursuing mouse-dragon from the air with a wicked right paw. As the dragon bounced off the tiles and back into flight, the cat raced on. making a wide circle around the courtyard in search of a place to exit. But the dragon proved to be faster: it trapped its prey against the base of the trellis. The kitten took
the only escape open to it, shooting up the latticework. As the dragon swooped upward after it, Kerily screamed in horror, “My kitten! That monster is after my kitten!”

  It was indeed. While Seagryn was amazed both by the young cat’s intelligence and speed, he didn’t give it a prayer of escaping. He’d seen this mouse-dragon roast a squirrel with a single look. Once this green kitten froze in place, the dragon would roast it to cinders.

  Not cinders, exactly, but a mass of smoking hair and lifeless meat tumbled onto the courtyard floor a moment later. The kitten had indeed hesitated, and the mouse-dragon had fixed upon it all four of its eyes. As the once-cuddly kitten hit the tiles, so did Kerily, passed out in a dead faint. The mouse-dragon had no interest in its remains. Instead it shot back through the trellis and up into the clouds, in quest of more felines to fry. This all had happened with amazing speed.

  Seagryn turned his head back up to look at Dark. He was smiling down at the woman who was passed out upon the mosaic floor, surrounded by a circle of fanning servants. Dark’s eyes met Seagryn’s. Then the boy winked.

  “OHH!” Kerily wailed as she regained consciousness, whether in shock or grief, Seagryn couldn’t tell. What a pretty little kitten it had been, he thought to himself as he walked over to inspect the smoking carcass. He could understand Kerily’s attachment to it. He gazed down into the little cat’s lifeless eyes and grieved with her.