The Faithful Traitor (Wizard & Dragon Book 2)

by Robert Don Hughes

  “So — Paumer is right? Your appearance at Kerily’s, your threats to Elaryl — these were just a ruse to bring me here?”

  Sheth sighed. “I tried to make it more than that. I’ve spent a good deal of time searching for your lady friend in hopes of having her here, waiting for you. It’s in my best interests that you be happy, Seagryn, I know that. But I’m afraid I failed to find her.”

  “Then — you have no idea where Elaryl is?” Seagryn asked, his voice as void of any emotion as he could make it.

  “Sorry, my friend. I can tell you a lot of places she’s not.” Sheth smiled again. Was he aware, Seagryn wondered, of the impact of those curling lips? “But listen!” Sheth said grandly. “Didn’t young Dark give you a promise you’d see her safely again? Isn’t that enough for the moment?”

  “It is not enough!” Seagryn shouted, and he left the room, walking swiftly toward the staircase that led down to the lowest level and the rope ladder.

  “Seagryn, wait!” Sheth called, dashing out into the hall after him. “I need your help! The whole One Land needs your help!”

  “I heard a similar appeal once,” Seagryn called back without looking over his shoulder. “It caused me to betray an innocent tugolith, and to help make a horrible monster. At this moment I’m far more concerned about my wife than about the old One Land. Oh — hello,” he added as he got to the bottom of the stairs and found Thaaliana — in human form — waiting for him.

  The woman cocked her head, looking puzzled. “Are you going somewhere?”

  “Don’t try to stop me,” Seagryn warned, pointing a finger at her and shaking it meaningfully.

  Her brown eyes widened. “I wouldn’t think of it.” She pointed downward. “I just brought your horses — and the stones.”

  Seagryn wondered exactly what the stones were but thrust the thought from his mind. The rope ladder was wound up onto a beaten-metal wheel. Seagryn released it and began to crank it downward.

  By this time, Sheth had chased him down the stairs, followed by Fylynn, who moved with some difficulty since she was trying to stay wrapped in the comforter. “Seagryn,” Sheth said, almost pleading. “Won’t you please reconsider?”

  Fylynn added her plea. “We’ve come so far, Seagryn! Won’t you please stay and help Sheth do this thing?”

  Seagryn didn’t respond. The ladder was fully extended, and he started climbing down it. Angry as he was, he couldn’t help but notice that once he descended through the lowest layer of leaves, the forest floor seemed to open up into a cathedral of green. They’d climbed up in the night and missed this view. He took it all in on his way down, marveling at the way these majestic brown columns made his heart pound. Then he was down, and he turned to his horse.

  Sheth had preceded him. There were advantages, of course, to that ability he’d shared with Nebalath to pop up here and there at will. “Are you going to try to prevent me?” Seagryn asked quietly, stepping off the ladder to face Sheth squarely.

  Sheth already sat in the saddle of Fylynn’s horse. “Not at all. I’ve decided to go help you find Elaryl.”

  Seagryn stared at the man. “You’re going to help me?”

  Sheth shrugged, then nodded affably. “Seemed the least I could do.” He pointed upward. “Fylynn said she would come, too, but she’s not dressed. Paumer still hasn’t come down out of the tower — you really terrorized him, apparently. Thaaliana says she can’t leave her children. So I guess it’s just the two of us.”

  “Are you — did Dark tell you that you and I would —”

  “Dark told me nothing about this,” Sheth interrupted. “But if finding your lady and insuring her safety is your condition for aiding us, then so be it. While you were climbing down I moved the stones up into the bower. There’s breakfast in your bag, there. Shall we ride?”

  Sheth wheeled his mount around and started toward the northeast. Without thought, Seagryn followed Sheth’s lead. After all, his companion was the most powerful shaper in the world. Without quite realizing why, Seagryn suddenly felt honored by his company …

  Chapter Eighteen: DRAGON’S DEVOTEES

  “WHY are we riding in this direction?” Seagryn finally asked Sheth.

  The other wizard arched a black eyebrow and shot Seagryn a look of both shock and amusement. “Do I look like Dark?” Sheth asked. “I’m following your lead, not the other way around!”

  “Oh. Have I been leading?” Seagryn replied with a smile. “I’m afraid I really hadn’t noticed …”

  They’d spent a good morning together — an enjoyable morning. By the time they’d left the giant trees behind, each had related what had happened to him since their most recent magical battle, the day Seagryn had freed Vicia-Heinox from Sheth’s Dragon-forge. These stories had not been devoid of rancor — they’d been archrivals for over a year, and insults and betrayals had festered into hatred on both sides. But the fact that they were talking at all so astonished Seagryn that he managed quickly to forgive his adversary. Amazingly, Sheth seemed eager to do the same. Once the bitterness was out of the way, they’d swapped experiences with that rising tide of excitement that comes when new companions realize just how much they share in common. Soon they were laughingly recounting the more ludicrous elements of their fights with one another. Seagryn decided that the summer of fleeing the dragon had mellowed and matured Sheth; for his part, Sheth seemed at last to be accepting Seagryn as an equal. What would have seemed impossible the night before now appeared to have already happened — he and Sheth were becoming friends. The speed of it made Seagryn’s head swim.

  Of course, to do so they’d had to lay aside all thoughts of the horrors their rivalry had unleashed on the peoples of the six Fragments. It wouldn’t do for Seagryn to remember the Arlian bodies floating past the Imperial House, or the host of the dead Remnant scattered across the floor of the Central Gate. Those things were past now, anyway. He could do nothing to set them right. He could perhaps do something to prevent them from recurring — if indeed Sheth knew a way to end the ravages of the dragon. With peace made between them and a commitment to finding Elaryl their top priority, Seagryn’s thoughts returned to this task. “How can I help you stop the dragon?” he finally asked.

  “To kill it, you mean?” Sheth asked, turning to pierce Seagryn through with his blue eyes. “Because that’s what it’s going to take, you know — the death of the twi-beast. And I wonder if you still have protective feelings toward half of it?”

  Seagryn had thought long and hard about that, and he answered with conviction. “No. None. Heinox is the better head of the pair, but it’s all still one dragon. Berillitha is dead.”

  “Then you can cooperate with us in killing it without reservation?” Sheth probed.

  “Once Elaryl is found — yes.” Seagryn nodded. “How do we go about doing that?”

  Sheth’s gaze returned to the trackless forest ahead of them. “We’re going to make a magical weapon — a crystal thorn which I, myself, shall plunge into the beast’s black heart!”

  This certainly sounded dramatic enough, but Seagryn frowned. “A what?”

  “A thorn, formed out of precisely crafted slivers of diamond!” Sheth answered, his eyes glowing. “The stones are already cut — that’s what you and Fylynn brought in those bags. They were found on an island off the North Coast — huge diamonds, bigger than your head! — by a band of Marwandian raiders I know.”

  “Marwandians hate you,” Seagryn stated flatly.

  “That’s true,” Sheth curtly agreed. “But they hate the dragon more. And when I promised to do away with the beast, if they would just find me these stones and convey them to Haranamous, they agreed.”

  “Why to Haranamous?”

  “Only the craftsmen of Haranamous had the skill to cut the stones into the precise shape I required,” Sheth answered. “Paumer knew exactly who to send them to — he made all the arrangements. That’s why Ognadzu sent the dragon to burn the city. He somehow learned of our intentions and tried to de
stroy the place before Chaom could send the cut stones back to me.”

  “I see. Jarnel seems to think the attack was to benefit Arl …”

  “You’ve been with our friend Jarnel?” Sheth smiled grimly.

  “I’m sure he does. Ognadzu is like his father. He’ll say whatever’s necessary to gain some advantage, then turn on you an instant later.”

  Seagryn thought that a good description of Sheth himself, but they were allies now, so he didn’t bring it up. “It sounds as if Ognadzu is more deserving of destruction than the dragon,” he murmured.

  “It’s been tried, believe me,” Sheth said emphatically. “I’ve tried. Several times. But the lad stays as much on the move as Paumer and I do, and I’ve not been able to catch him. If his father would just use that network of spies he’s built up through the years, I could corner the boy easily and he’d be gone. But Paumer won’t do it. His son keeps trying to kill him, but he won’t lift a hand in his own defense.” Sheth glanced over at Seagryn. “Hard to imagine, isn’t it?”

  Seagryn nodded, and Sheth appeared to be satisfied. But as he remembered that pitiful figure who’d trembled this morning in his grasp, Seagryn found it very easy to understand why Paumer would withhold such information. He was a father. He loved his son. Seagryn’s thoughts returned to the carefully cut stones. “What gave you the idea of this ‘crystal thorn’?”

  Sheth suddenly turned evasive. “Oh, I — just thought it up.”

  “You just thought it up?” Seagryn repeated, incredulous. The other wizard had been so open all morning that he found this response bothersome.

  “Like we think up all spells,” Sheth said offhandedly. “Why should that be surprising?”

  “Then you don’t know it’ll work.”

  “It will work,” Sheth answered with a finality that came close to being threatening.

  “I see. And how are you going to get close enough to the dragon to plunge it in?” Seagryn countered.

  “I’ll cloak myself,” Sheth snarled back. “Why so many questions? Do you have a better solution?”

  “No,” Seagryn responded honestly. But he also felt less faith in Sheth’s scheme than he’d been feeling throughout the morning. The thought of faith raised another possibility … “I wonder what the Power intends out of all this —”

  “Your Power has nothing to do with it!” Sheth said with startling vehemence. “At all!” he added, then he glared back at the forest before them. Apparently he would tolerate no further conversation on the topic. Seagryn honored that, and they were still riding silently some time later when the woods opened onto a clearing, and they saw a pair of figures standing in the middle of it. Both of them reined in their horses sharply. The figures were clothed in the clerical green of Lamath — and they appeared to be waiting for them.

  “Ranoth? Talarath?” Seagryn wondered aloud. “I thought they were dead!”

  “Now that’s a rumor I haven’t heard,” Sheth responded. “But what would they be doing out in the middle of the Marwilds?” He spurred his horse forward, and Seagryn followed. A few paces forward and the identities of these two were clear — to Seagryn, anyway — as well as the explanation for their presence here. “I recognize Dark,” Sheth murmured as they trotted forward, “but who’s the woman with him?”

  “Her name is Amyryth,” Seagryn answered. “She’s his mother.” Amyryth was a warm, free-spirited matron whom Seagryn had grown to love quickly during a brief visit in her home. “She’s the one who rescued me after you left my head buried in the mud.”

  “I’d wondered how you got out of that.”

  “Dark’s gift.” Seagryn smiled — the same gift that permitted the prophet and his mother to stand here in the middle of nowhere, waiting. But as they rode closer, Seagryn’s concern grew. The look on Amyryth’s face was one he’d not seen before — harsh, distant, and stern. “Greetings, Amyryth,” he said as they slowed to a stop. “Why such a grim expression?”

  “These are grim times,” the woman said. “Shall we go?”

  “Where are we going?” Sheth asked archly.

  “Lord Sheth,” Amyryth said graciously, “please take no offense at my haste. I know you and Seagryn have come in search of his Lady Elaryl, and we have a long way to ride in order to save her. I will show you all the honor you deserve once we’re moving.” She spun around then and walked purposefully away from them toward her horse. Seagryn recognized it as the steed Dark had ridden from Haranamous. Dark didn’t move.

  “I can’t help noticing,” Sheth began in that oily tone Seagryn found so aggravating, “that you have only one mount. How, pray, shall we ride anywhere?”

  Amyryth was now up onto her horse’s back. Seagryn was mildly surprised at how comfortably the older woman sat in the saddle. “We thought perhaps that Seagryn might take his altershape, and Dark could ride his horse?” She voiced this as a question, but it was really a statement. Nor did Seagryn debate for even a moment that this was the way things should be arranged. At the implied promise that he would soon see his love, he threw himself down from his mount. As he trotted far enough away to give his altershape room to appear, Dark mounted up. A moment later Seagryn again wore the heavy scales of a tugolith, and his mounted friends looked much smaller.

  “Which way?” he shouted, and Dark spurred his horse forward to take the lead. They spent the remainder of the afternoon in a mad dash that made the morning’s pace seem like a casual canter. At one point, they’d faced a wall of impenetrable tangle that made Seagryn think Dark had lost his way. Instead, the boy suggested he go before them, plowing a path with his great shoulders. Once again, Seagryn didn’t argue; though he wouldn’t have thought so, he found his altershape well suited to this task. By the time he’d torn through the dense brush, the sun had set, and Sheth was making no secret of his hunger. But Amyryth was unmoved — apparently there simply wasn’t time to stop. Seagryn’s excitement — and anxiety — continued to grow.

  When the light faded completely, Sheth projected a ball of fire out before them to light the way — a huge ball, and exceptionally bright. “Is that normal for you?” he rumbled at Sheth in his tugolith bass.

  “I’ve made one that size before,” the other wizard responded casually, but Sheth also appeared rather impressed with himself, and Seagryn wondered if this was not, perhaps, more indication of the concentration of powers in this region. He’d felt his energy growing through the long day instead of depleting. But he was also feeling something else — something threatening. The farther they traveled, the more certain he became that they were entering the presence of a force of immense evil. As the bobbing light wove its way through the woods and they followed in earnest pursuit, he started to ask if others felt it, too.

  “Hush,” Amyryth whispered before he got all the words out. “Listen,” she said.

  Seagryn listened — and heard an odd sound coming from directly in front of them. “Singing?” he whispered back, which was no easy task for his tugolith voice. Amyryth chose not to respond. Soon, Seagryn didn’t need her to — the chants and songs had become clearly audible.

  “Lord Sheth,” Amyryth said quietly, “would you be so good as to douse your light?”

  Sheth did so without a word. Once Seagryn’s eyes accustomed themselves to the sudden darkness, he realized they were moving toward the distinctive red glow of a bonfire. In the darkness, it seemed he could distinguish more clearly the words of the singsong chant …

  “I believe in the torch of the powers —

  “I believe in the two-headed scourge —

  “I believe in the traitor who freed him —

  “I believe in the dragonburn’s purge —”

  “The what?” he managed to strangle out, but he needed no one to respond. The chilling words were repeated over and over again. “I believe in the traitor who freed him,” he murmured, and his forequarters trembled in shock. “They’re singing about me.”

  As the others reined in their horses and silently dismoun
ted, Seagryn returned to his human form and crept through the brush toward the edge of the clearing. He crouched there in the shadows, watching the proceedings in horror.

  “Strange, isn’t it,” Sheth whispered, and Seagryn realized now that he had kneeled down beside him. “Have you ever heard anything so weird in all your life?”

  “Regularly,” Seagryn murmured back. He was certain his reply had startled the other wizard, but he didn’t take the time to explain. How could he convey his sense of dismay to one who had not grown up within the halls of faith--to one who had not chanted the original of the creed this midnight congregation now intoned? Seagryn had himself led such worship — but using very different words. That’s what shook him so deeply. Nothing is so strange, he thought to himself, as to see and hear the familiar twisted into something perverse.

  Amyryth had crouched down on the other side of him. They were at the very edge of the bonfire’s perimeter, and in the dim light Seagryn saw the silhouette of Dark kneeling beyond her. “Look,” she breathed, and Seagryn followed the indication of her pointing finger to the back of the worship leader. He watched intently as the man led the chorus, both his arms waving in highly stylized gestures that some in the congregation were trying to follow. But there was a line of devotees kneeling in the front who could not: their hands were bound before them. Seagryn scanned the faces, utterly certain before he spotted her that he would find Elaryl among them. And there she was …

  Elaryl! A bound captive! Up from deep inside him gushed a violent urge to leap from behind the bush and scream out his rage. He contained it, but not before uttering a strangled gurgle. Amyryth and Sheth both grabbed his shoulders to restrain him. “Not yet!” Sheth whispered in one ear, and “Think!” Amyryth whispered in the other.