Many Hidden Rooms (Cerah of Quadar Book 2)

by S. J. Varengo

  “Just the two words,” Russa said, shaking her head. Then she closed her eyes and tilted her head, her smile wide and beaming. “And that face! That beautiful face that I will kiss a thousand times when I see him.”

  Cerah smiled now too. She had been sick at heart that she had been unable to convince Russa that Yarren was alive, knowing that she had been fulfilling her duties with a ravaged soul. This news made her extremely happy for the young wizard, but even more importantly, it meant her wait would soon be over as well. She was strong, superlatively wise for her young years, and filled with the burning heart of Ma’uzzi in the form of the Greater Spark. But it was Slurr who made her able to be these things, that made her able to face the immensity of her role as the Chosen One. When Parnasus had wed them, he’d charged them both with the task of joining with the other’s completeness, making each more complete still. Since being separated, Cerah realized just how literally true that charge was. Her husband lay the foundation upon which the Chosen One walked. And now he was flying to be with her!

  After a little more informal “girl talk,” which Cerah found delightfully distracting for the brief moments it lasted, Russa returned to her match-mate, Barbini, and walked with him to the clear lagoon that shimmered through the trees that grew at the limit of the beach. Many other dragons, including a large contingent of the riderless, were already there, drinking their fill.

  “You must be parched, Tress. Let’s go get you some water.”

  Tressida nodded her head in the direction of the village, which lay a few miles from where they had landed, “I think I shall have to take myself to the lagoon. It appears that you have company.”

  Cerah turned to see a group of six people warily approaching them. They were brown-skinned and their hair, though closely cropped, was kinked and wiry. They were carrying spears.

  “Perhaps you shouldn’t wander off just yet,” she said mentally.

  “I was joking. I wouldn’t leave you like that.”

  “I know.” Cerah was soon joined by ten of the more experienced wizards in the flight, including Kern, who held his staff at the ready. Cerah turned to them and moved her hands in a downward push, indicating that the mages should try to appear non-threatening. Kern lowered his staff, but only slightly.

  The man to the fore of the group of villagers called to Cerah in a tongue she did not recognize. He repeated himself a couple of times, he and his fellows appearing to grow more agitated when the wizards did not answer him.

  “I’m sorry,” Cerah said at last. “I do not know your language. We mean you no harm!”

  The locals looked at one another, clearly as confused by Cerah’s speech as she had been by theirs. When they returned their gaze to the wizards, their facial expressions had darkened even more than previously. It was beginning to look as though the encounter was going south rapidly.

  Just then, Zayan walked to join the group of wizards. “Cerah, their language sounds quite a bit like Riddue. Not exactly, but perhaps enough that I can communicate with them.

  “Please, try!” Cerah said, pushing him forward.

  Looking at the sharply tipped spears, Zayan swallowed hard and then said in the Riddue language, “These are the wizards of Melsa. They bear you no ill will. They have come to rest their dragons.” Zayan pointed to Tressida, who stood close to her match-mate.

  The men did not reply, but looking at them, Cerah felt that they had understood at least some of what Zayan was saying.

  “Tell them we come with help and warning of danger from the South.”

  As Zayan repeated the statement, the villagers again looked at one another, jabbering furiously. The Riddue listened carefully. “They are speaking of the ‘Great Black Giant,’” he told Cerah.

  “Then Surok has come this way? How could they have looked upon him and lived to tell us about it?” she asked.

  Zayan turned to them and said, “Please tell me of the Great Black Giant.”

  The leader of the group, still holding his spear at the ready, looked intently at the Riddue, then said, “Your speech is broken. You talk as though you have heard the Ridah tongue, but that your teacher was an idiot.”

  Zayan understood enough of that to smile, in spite of the leader’s menacing stance. “My language is similar in many ways to yours. I understand much of what you say.”

  The villager made a dismissive noise but went on. “We saw the Great Black Giant approach from the south. He flew upon a beast such as this.” He pointed to Tressida. “Although this one is puny in comparison.” As Zayan translated to Cerah, the Chosen One took on an expression of great surprise. Tressida was a huge dragon, larger by nearly one half than any other creature in the flight.

  “Ask how big,” she said to Zayan.

  He passed on the question, his eyes growing wide upon hearing the villager’s answer. “As big as three of Tressida,” he said. “And they said it was the color of topaz.”

  “I have never heard of such a dragon,” Tressida said to Cerah. “Neither one so large nor any colored topaz.”

  “Nor I,” Cerah replied. Then to Zayan, “Ask if the Giant threatened them.”

  “No,” the villager replied. “He passed high overhead and did not slow upon seeing Uta. Nor did any of the dark ships.” Zayan assumed that “Uta” was their name for the island.

  “Dark ships?” repeated Zayan.

  “Huge ships, longer than any we have ever seen on these waters. And all the color of badly burned wood. There were many. More than the fleet with which you and your creatures flew. They were heading northwest.”

  Zayan relayed all of this to a befuddled Cerah. “Why would he pass so close to humans and spare them?” she asked Kern, who was still ready to use his staff if need be.

  “I can only think that he wished to hurry on to a larger population. It sounds as though they were indeed moving toward Oz Qanoti.”

  “And yet our riders reported that Kal Berea was unscathed. No sign of Surok other than the dark clouds that we think follow him.”

  Zayan had continued to converse with the villager, and gradually they assumed a less threatening stance. Finally, the leader set the end of his spear on the ground. The others followed suit. In response, the wizards all relaxed somewhat and lowered their staves. The villager said something more to Zayan, who smiled and turned to Cerah.

  “I don’t quite understand how it is that their language is similar enough to mine that we can make ourselves understood, though I do note a similarity between the name of their people, Ridah, and mine, the Riddue. It could be that they were once Riddue but have been isolated for so long that their speech has changed.”

  “What made you smile when he spoke just then?” Cerah asked.

  Zayan smiled again. “Another similarity. Like me, they are fascinated by the dragons, even though they keep calling them ‘the little ones’ in comparison, I assume, to the one they saw Surok fly upon. They are wondering if there was any chance they might be able to ride one.”

  Cerah laughed. “Everybody loves dragons,” she said. “Ours need to rest, but I don’t suppose a few quick flights to show our good will would overtax them too greatly.”

  When Zayan informed the leader that Tressida would be willing to allow them to ride her, he leapt for joy and called back to the trees from which they’d appeared. Immediately, several laughing children came running toward the wizards, followed closely by a group of female Ridah. Once fully assembled, there were a total of about thirty men, women, and children, literally the entire native population of Uta. Cerah quickly saw that Tressida would get no rest at all if she had to give each of the Ridah a turn on her back. She turned to the other wizards. “Would any of you be kind enough to help Tress and I supply our hosts with a little air time? The more dragons we have, the less time they’ll have to spend appeasing these fine people.”

  In the end, fifteen riders volunteered, meaning that they each had only to go up twice. The villagers loved every second of it, laughing happily for the e
ntire duration of the flight. None were happier than the children, however. They expressed a joy and exuberance that only the very young can. Cerah was so taken by the rapturous laughter of the young girl that she had taken up, that she found herself laughing along with her by the time they landed.

  After all of the villagers had a turn in the sky, the leader, who told Zayan that his name was Wurlo, asked the wizards to go with him back to the village, where the Ridah would prepare them a meal. Cerah smiled but thought that there were far too many riders for the tiny village to feed. With a total population of thirty, it didn’t seem likely that they would have the resources to host over five hundred wizards. She told Zayan to politely inform him that a small contingent would join his people for a meal, but that the others must remain behind to tend to the dragons. Wurlo seemed satisfied with this, and soon the villagers were joined by ten wizards and Zayan.

  Their hosts made the wizards welcome, as they sat them in the cleared area in the center of a circle of huts, which had been constructed of raw materials available on the island; wood from felled trees, dried grass and straw, used both to fashion their roofs and to fill the gaps between the wooden planks. They were quite well built, considering the rough resources.

  The women set about preparing the meal, while the men sat among the wizards and passed a long pipe around, filled with some local weed. Cerah politely took a puff, quickly passing it to Parnasus, who drew the smoke deeply into his lungs and smiled at his hosts.

  “It’s delightful! Every bit as good as Melsan chokeweed,” the First-Elder said. When Zayan translated, the men seemed very pleased that the wizards enjoyed their offering.

  Wurlo, who had sat beside Zayan, explained that the weed was a gift from Ma’uzzi. He had caused it to grow all over the island. For as long as there had been people on the island, they had smoked the wild plant, which they claimed eased the nerves and made it easier to feel close to Ma’uzzi.

  As Zayan translated, Parnasus, who was still smiling, said, “Yes, I can see exactly what he means. The weed seems to have a very positive effect upon one. Or two!” He poked Kern, who was also looking quite happy. Kern laughed at his teacher’s juvenile joke.

  Cerah, who had not inhaled the smoke, found herself smiling all the same, just looking at its effect on the elders.

  Not long after, the food was served. Cerah had become very spoiled by the food on Melsa, which was prepared by skilled cooks who also happened to be skilled wizards. The combination of excellent cooking and magic enhancement made every meal on the wizards’ island an experience beyond compare. However, since setting out to stop Surok, the meals had either been quickly prepared over a small fire (at best) or cold rations barely sufficient to keep one alive (at worst).

  The meal the Ridah served her was the best she’d had since leaving Melsa. The others, now finished with their pipe, seemed to enjoy it even more than she.

  There was much conversation around the circle as they ate, and Zayan did his best to keep up with it and pass on as much of it as he could to the others. For the most part, the villagers were talking about the thrill of riding the dragons. Then one man, talking to Wurlo, said something that struck Zayan as very interesting.

  “This fellow says that the Ridah thought the giant rude for not offering rides on his huge dragon. He says the scrawny fellow that flew behind him on a much smaller dragon, the same size as yours was also rude. He said the dragon was green.”

  Cerah’s face grew ashen. “A wizard flies with Surok?” she said to Parnasus. “And on a green dragon.”

  Parnasus, no longer smiling, said, “Such a thing chills the soul. There is only one logical explanation. Every wizard of Melsa is either with us, or with the forces we left behind to defend the green lands, except for two. Yarren, who remained to search for Slurr—”

  “And Zenk, who fled Melsa after leading the Silestra to where you had hidden me. Zenk, who is responsible for the death of my brother, Beru. Zenk, who is matched with a green dragon!” said Cerah, almost spitting the name of the traitorous wizard.

  Although there had been a wide net cast over the island as wizards combed every inch in search of Zenk, he had managed to escape. Cerah knew through the Greater Spark that he had gone, though she could not determine his destination, nor what rock he had crawled under once he’d settled. She’d focused on the coming invasion of the Frozen South and had resolved to put her plans for revenge on hold for the time being.

  Now it would appear that the foul wizard had managed to align himself with none other than the demon she was hunting. As furious as this made her, it brought a dark, crooked smile to her face as well.

  “I can’t say this is completely surprising,” she said to Parnasus. “Zenk’s spark is hidden in a mass of pitch, so stained it is by dark magic.”

  “I agree that he has been overcome by the darkness, but my heart is still broken at the thought of a wizard of Melsa, the age-old servants of Ma’uzzi, falling in with the Anger of Pilka and moving against the Free People we have so long protected.”

  “It is as sad a turn as I can imagine,” said Kern. “In our long history, there have been other wizards who have let their spark get too close to the darkness. That realm of magic offers much to one who would seek it. But in the end, all have been pulled back from the edge of the chasm. They have seen that dark magic can only lead to destruction. They have offered their spark to Ma’uzzi for cleansing and have been saved. Until now.”

  Cerah nodded at the words of both of her teachers. “I have only dwelt among you for a short time—not quite a year. But in that time the great history of our race has become very real to me, and I understand the sorrow that the turning away of one of our own brings you. But any sorrow I might feel is tempered by a deep and burning hatred. In all Quadar I hold only Surok in more contempt than I hold Zenk. When he led the assassins to my hiding place he didn’t just strike a blow against me. He may have helped them kill my brother, but his betrayal goes far beyond my family. He has forsaken all wizards, all Free People, and he has abandoned Ma’uzzi. I now have even more reason to catch up with Surok. Driving Isurra’s blade through Zenk’s sunken chest will bring me much pleasure.”

  Kern looked at Cerah and shuddered slightly. Of all the changes she had gone through since leaving Kamara, this side of her, which he could only call cold-bloodedness, was one with which he had yet to grow comfortable. There was a part of the Chosen One which was every bit as ferocious as the most savage Silestran.

  The villagers could tell by the faces of the wizards that something they had said caused them concern. They questioned Zayan as to what troubled them, and he, at Cerah’s prompting, managed to satisfy their curiosity by saying that the green dragon they saw had been stolen from them. Apparently, thievery was a crime for which they held much contempt, as they promised that should this rider ever return to Ridah they would recapture the dragon for their guests and subject the robber to some very gruesome punishment involving sweet tree sap and giant, acid-spewing insects.

  For the rest of the evening the conversation turned to more pleasant topics. By the time the wizards took their leave, much to the disappointment of the villagers, the sun had long since set. As the contingent returned to where the bulk of the flight had been resting, Cerah sent word for everyone to mount up at once. She felt more certain than ever that Surok was planning to move against Oz Qanoti, even though the riders who were already there had projected no news to that effect.

  As the great mass of dragons took to the sky, the Ridah people assembled on the beach and waved torches to see them off. Looking down on them, Cerah pointed Isurra and produced a ball of red light which exploded and showered the villagers in crimson sparks, much to the delight of the children.

  “I want to reach Oz Qanoti by the time Vellus rises,” she called to Parnasus.

  “Yes, the dragons can reach the continent by then, but we will have to overtake the armada to do so. The ships will not arrive until late in the evening at the earliest.�
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  “I am aware, Elder. But I will not run the risk of letting that filth get to those people before we do. Although the riders there have repeatedly told us that all is well, I am sure that is where Surok is headed.”

  “After seeing what he did on Niliph, one would be led to believe that he would want to strike while our forces were still at a minimum. If that is where he’s headed, why would he tarry?”

  “The Greater Spark has not made that clear to me. Elder, I am still learning to trawl the depths of the gift Ma’uzzi has given me. While I grow stronger in my ability to use the Spark every day, there are times when all I get from it are vague impressions and feelings.”

  “So, you are following a hunch?” Parnasus asked, his smile hidden by the darkness of the sky.

  “A hunch placed within me by the creator of all things pure,” Cerah replied. “But a hunch nonetheless.”

  “That is good enough for me,” said the First-Elder, and he pressed his knees into Dardaan’s black scales. “Faster, old friend!”

  “Tress,” said Cerah into her match-mate’s mind, “you and I have flown fast many times. Tonight, you must make all of those flights seem sluggish in comparison.”

  She heard the dragon’s chuckle clearly. “It’s a good thing you don’t wear a hat,” Tressida said, “or you would surely lose it.” She shot forward so quickly that Cerah had to right herself as she started to lean backward in response. The golden queen could fly faster than any dragon on Quadar, but that did not stop the others from doing their level best to keep up with her.

  After only a few hours they had caught up with the armada, and Cerah flew down to the Marta. She pulled level with the crow’s nest on the main mast and called to the sailor on watch. She told him her plan to fly on ahead and instructed him to pass the word to Admiral Renton. They would rendezvous in the port of Kal Berea when the ships arrived near nightfall. Once she had made the sailor repeat the message back to her and was satisfied that he’d gotten it right, she and her match-mate surged once more to the head of the flight, and soon they left the sailing ships far behind.