Sisera's Gift 2: Sacred Blood

by Robyn Wideman

  “Ahoy.” A shout came through the mist. “Welcome to Bridgewater. We’ll guide you in. Business or pleasure?”

  The captain greeted the vessel and identified the boat as a cargo ship. The smaller boat turned down the left canal and the ship followed.

  As the sailors docked the boat, Tarak and Santaal went below deck to address the soldiers on board. They found the members of the Sacred Blood Legion lined up and waiting.

  “Just so everyone is clear,” Santaal shouted, “You will disembark and immediately disperse around the city. We want to draw as little attention to ourselves as possible. When you are in the city, you must not be Sacred Blood. You must blend in. There are inns across the city, enjoy your stay in Bridgewater. Tomorrow, we head inland. There is a villa marked on your maps. You will all be there before nightfall. There is a time written on your map. That is the time you will leave the city. Understood?”

  The soldiers, lined up in three lines of five, all saluted.

  Tarak walked through the ranks, inspecting the men. He could see in their eyes that the sight of him was truly having the effect on the soldiers that he had intended it to. He enjoyed the look of fear in the eyes of battle-hardened warriors.

  A message came down that the ship was securely docked and that they could now depart. Santaal turned to the men and dismissed them. One by one the soldiers left the ship to find food and shelter for the night.

  Hours later, Tarak and Santaal sat in a crowded tavern, waiting for the serving girl to return with mugs of ale.

  “Sorry about the wait, gents,” the young woman said as she dropped the two large mugs on the table. “It has been crazy in here today. Travelers from all over the world.”

  Tarak looked around the room. All but handful of the patrons were Scared Blood brothers. None of them acknowledged that fact, though. They were trained to act as if they were strangers to one another, so as to keep up the ruse that they were not working together.

  “Must be a popular place,” he said.

  “Yeah, but not usually like this. Anyway, can I get you two some food?”

  Tarak nodded.

  “For me as well, sweetheart,” Santaal said and settled back in his chair to watch the room. “Their training has been excellent. No one would suspect a thing.”

  Tarak nodded. “Illusions not created by magic are the most beautiful,” he said quietly.

  Santaal continued to speak but the words found deaf ears as Tarak retreated back into his own thoughts.

  The next few days were of vital importance to him. Months of planning and maneuvering had brought them there. Everything had to go smoothly. Tarak went over the plan in his mind. Over and over. There were too many unknown factors for his liking but they had to take that chance.

  “I will get us a room here, I think,” Santaal said. “I don’t want to go far if I’m going to be drinking this swill.”

  Tarak was deep in thought and did not respond. Santaal made his way through the busy room to find the innkeeper. As soon as he left a woman sauntered over to their table and sat down.

  “Hi there, handsome.” The woman smiled and put her hand on Tarak’s knee.

  Tarak raised his head to meet the girl’s gaze. “Not interested.” He kept his voice low but meaningful. Her smile disappeared when he let the illusion surrounding his face fade. For just a brief moment, she saw his handsome face melt to reveal the Face of Garron and the dark eyes behind it.

  “What the…” the girl jumped up and instinctively looked around for help, just as Santaal was returning to the table.

  “And, what’s going on here?” he asked as he approached the table.

  “His face.” The girl was stuttering now, unsure of what she saw.

  “He’s a pretty one, eh?” Santaal said, flashing a knowing grin to his brother, who remained unmoving.

  “But… but… but… his face… that mask.” The fear in her voice was real.

  “Oh, come now, honey.” Santaal took the girl’s hand and turned her towards the bar. “Let’s go get you a drink. Seems you aren’t feeling well, seeing things and all.”

  Santaal turned back to Tarak and tossed a key onto the table.

  “Room 31. A suite,” he said and turned his attention back to the girl.

  When the serving girl returned with their food, Tarak took the plate and the key and retired to room 31.

  In the morning, Tarak woke to find the girl from the night before, naked, and asleep, lying next to Santaal.

  “Typical,” he muttered and quickly scribbled a note to let his brother know of his intentions.

  He walked out of the dim inn and into the light of the newly rising sun. He immediately headed in the direction of the world-renowned marketplace.

  As a major trading hub, the port city had a huge marketplace filled with rare and magnificent treasures. It was said that there was nothing in the world that could not be found in the markets of Bridgewater. Just the kind of place where Tarak needed to go.

  Although it was still early in the morning, the marketplace was alive with activity. Tarak wandered through, looking at what each vendor had to offer but still did not find what he had been hoping to. He found a few vendors that carried herbs and spell ingredients but none had what he was looking for.

  As the day progressed, he began to get frustrated and by the late afternoon, he was at his wit’s end. There were hundreds of shops and stalls but the market might as well have been empty.

  He thought about the market in North Port. The witches had used magic to hide their shop in plain sight. Perhaps that is what was happening here.

  “Would a reveal spell help?” he asked himself. Probably not.

  “You know what the worst part of your fancy disguises is?” Santaal’s voice came from behind him. “I just never know exactly who to look for.”

  Tarak turned and greeted his brother with a silent nod.

  “You look good, though. I like the outfit. Very fashionable.” Santaal grinned. “You know we were supposed to leave a few hours ago?”

  “I am aware.”

  “So then, what is the hold-up? Doing some last-minute shopping?”

  “I’m looking for an apothecary.”

  Santaal looked around them. “There’s one. And another one. I think that one there is too.”

  “I’m looking for a special apothecary.”

  “Ah.” Santaal nodded. “What is it that you are looking for?”

  “Rosevine root,” Tarak said quietly.

  “Rosevine root? Who are you planning on resurrecting?”

  “Maybe you,” Tarak said with an even tone.

  “Very funny,” said Santaal. “Seriously, though. One does not just buy that stuff from a common marketplace.”

  “This isn’t a common marketplace, is it?”

  Tarak shrugged and began to walk down the row of stalls.

  “Well, I suppose there’s nothing to do but help you,” said Santaal.

  For another hour, they went from stall to stall, asking for the rare root, when finally, a vendor pointed them in the right direction.

  “Loerel would have that,” said a dirty, rat-faced man, selling all varieties of snails. He explained to them how to find her shop.

  “There,” Santaal said, pointing to a small but solid building.

  Tarak went up to the door. There was a small plaque next to the entrance that said “Loerel’s.”

  He turned to look at Santaal. “Wait out here,” he said and pushed the door.

  The shop had a wide counter that ran along the back end of the room, separating the rear storage area and the main sales floor. Tarak walked up to the counter to find an old, grey-haired woman.

  “Hello there,” she said.

  “Hello. I am looking for something,” he said.

  Just then the door pushed open again and an armored man walked in. The man saw that Tarak was already speaking with the clerk and waited, looking around on the shelves.

  Tarak recognized the insignia on
the man’s chest guard immediately, Dragon’s Tail Brigade. They were the legendary protectors of the dragonbloods and their dragons. Tarak could feel hatred growing in his chest. He wanted to kill this man. He took a deep breath and kept his composure.

  “Go help him,” he said to Loerel and stepped back into the corner of the shop, where he cast a spell of invisibility.

  Without question, the old woman went to greet the man, who was in search of panther beetle, which, Tarak found to be comical. He approached the counter and looked at the man, who could not see him at all because of the spell.

  “This man would be a formidable opponent,” Tarak thought as he inspected the man up close.

  The transaction was completed quickly and the man went to leave. Tarak dispelled the invisibility and spoke again with Loerel, who was not surprised by his reappearance. Just then, the man paused in the doorway and turned back.

  Tarak turned to look at the man. Their eyes met. Tarak felt a surge of rage flow through his body. Calming is mind, Tarak offered the man a nod and a smile then turned back to Loerel. He heard the door shut behind him.

  “That was neat,” Loerel said nonchalantly as if she was used to seeing such powerful magic.

  Tarak chuckled. “A parlor trick.”

  Loerel looked at him, brows raised. “That is one powerful parlor trick, Tarak Kader.”

  “You know me?” he asked, startled that she, not only, knew who he was regardless of the illusion he was cloaked in, but also his name.

  Loerel laughed. “You know me as well.”

  “Do I?” Tarak looked intently at the old woman but found nothing familiar.

  “Violet.”

  Tarak thought for a moment. “The serving girl?”

  Loerel smiled.

  “Has it been that long?” Tarak asked.

  The old woman laughed. “You should know better than anyone else that things are not always as they seem.”

  “Why are you here?”

  Loerel pulled a small packet from under the counter and handed it Tarak.

  “I’m here to help. That first dragonblood was just a teaser. A mere taste of the power you are on the verge of taking. He was unbonded, with next to no abilities. You need to do better.”

  Tarak looked down at the packet.

  “Rosevine root,” Loerel said with a wink.

  “How did you…” Tarak was shocked.

  “Ah, that is a question for another time. Right now, you should be focused on killing that dragonblood.”

  Tarak tucked the packet into his cloak and nodded. He turned and left the shop without another word. As he shut the door behind him he breathed a sigh of relief. That was something that he was not prepared for.

  Santaal was leaning on the edge of a building across the street. When he saw Tarak leave the shop, he walked over.

  “It was curious for me to see that Brigadier leave that shop,” he said. “He was a Dragon’s Tail, was he not?”

  “He was.”

  “And?”

  “I was concentrated on the big picture. Besides, he was looking for panther beetle.”

  “At least that is good news,” smiled Santaal.

  “He seems formidable. I wish to face him in open combat instead of sneaking a knife into him while he’s not looking.”

  “Well, that could be a very real possibility. Did you find what you were looking for?”

  A grim look passed over Tarak’s face and he nodded. “I will tell you about it on the way to the villa.”

  35

  “Is there a special dragon call?” Isabella asked as she jumped into the saddle strapped to Sisera.

  “Like a dog? Dragons are not like dogs.”

  Isabella laughed. “Not like a dog. What I meant was, is there a special way for dragons to call each other. Like a sound?”

  “Or a whistle? Like you would call a dog?”

  “I’m not saying you’re like a dog!”

  “It sure sounds like you are.” Sisera chuckled.

  “You’re infuriating,” said Isabella, shaking her head.

  Sisera leaped up and, with a few powerful pumps of her wings, was airborne.

  The sun was just peeking over the western horizon. Isabella looked out towards the ocean, but there was nothing but wide open space. She felt like she could see the end of the earth. She knew, though, that if they traveled in that direction, they would soon find land again.

  “Where do we start then?” she asked.

  “There must be some caves or shelters around here. I’m just going to try to find places that I would enjoy to live and hope that Tyrath thinks the same way. Also, I am hoping that he sees us and comes out of wherever he is hiding.”

  “That seems like as good a plan as any,” Isabella said. She pulled a small sack out of her pack and began munching on small chunks of dried fruit and roasted nuts.

  They flew low to make it easier to search for the dragon.

  “Are you sure there is no call?” asked Isabella.

  “I should just throw you from my back right now.” Sisera made the threat in jest.

  “You know I can land that, right?”

  “Look over there,” said Sisera, her head pointing off to the left.

  In the distance, Isabella could see something dark in the air. She squinted her eyes. It did look vaguely dragon shaped.

  “What if that is Venia?” Isabella asked, fear crawling into her chest.

  “We will be able to see if it is her long before she reaches us,” Sisera said, trying to reassure Isabella.

  “Then she will chase us.” Isabella felt her stomach tighten with the possibility.

  “I can fly much faster than Venia. Trust me. Besides, I nearly ripped her wing off. Without regeneration abilities, she will heal normally, so there is a good chance she is not been able to fly for long distances, anyway.”

  Isabella relaxed a little. “Sorry. I can’t help but feel a little bit on edge when I think about her.”

  “I know,” said Sisera, soothingly. “We have to check it out, though.”

  Isabella closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths. She could feel her heartbeat slowing. She knew Sisera could feel it too.

  “There you go,” said the dragon. “We are going to be fine. Good chance it is Tyrath on the way back to his shelter.”

  Sisera flew a few loops in the air, just to be sure the dragon saw them. She then landed on the cliff side to wait and watch. Isabella remained in the saddle, in case they had to make a quick escape.

  As the dragon approached Isabella could see that it was, in fact, the older dragon called Tyrath.

  “Sisera.” The large bronze-yellow dragon greeted the gold-purple as he landed on the cliff. “What are you doing here?”

  “Tyrath,” Sisera said. “We need your help to find Apophis.”

  The bronze-yellow laughed. “Apophis, eh? A logical step, I guess. This is her?”

  Isabella’s gaze met that of Tyrath’s. He inspected her closely.

  “Well, she’s probably the prettiest human I have ever seen. I wish all humans had it on them, scales I mean. Make them tougher to eat too.”

  Tyrath winked at Isabella. She could not help but giggle.

  “What do I call you?” Tyrath asked her.

  “Isabella,” she said. She felt as if she were a child again, meeting delegates from other kingdoms.

  “You are still a child,” Sisera said through their mindlink.

  Isabella turned and glared at the gold-purple. Sisera chuckled.

  “Alright, Isabella. I want to see what you can do,” said Tyrath.

  Isabella looked at Sisera then back to Tyrath. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, Sisera had told me that you got powers from the bond. I would like to see why you are so special,” Tyrath said.

  Isabella could see that he was not joking.

  She climbed down from the saddle slowly, giving her time to plan her exhibition. She looked around at the cliff side. It was a wide-open spa
ce, a few large boulders that came to rest on the field, but mainly flat otherwise. Then it came to her.

  She ran away from the pair of dragons as quickly as possible. She was just a blur of color streaking away. She came to a stop roughly two hundred yards away and turned around. She began to ran back but this time she leaped and dove as if she were in a battle. She threw all different sizes and strengths of fireballs, in attempts to destroy her enemies, in this case, boulders and small plants. As she grew closer to the dragons she stopped throwing fire and concentrated on running. She ran right past the two beasts, giving Sisera a nod, and launched herself from the cliff.

  Sisera immediately took flight and followed her over the edge. The dragon had immense speed for her size, another perk of being a purple. Isabella looked behind and could see the dragon gaining on her. Suddenly the horn of her saddle was right in front of her face. She reached out and grabbed it as Sisera quickly changed directions and began to climb. They flew back up past the edge of the cliff, Isabella safely in the saddle.

  “That was impressive,” Tyrath said as they landed beside him.

  Isabella hopped from the saddle and took a bow. “Thank you,” she said with a smile.

  “When Sisera and I last met, I asked her how it feels, the bonding I mean. She told me that it was a… confusing feeling. I would like to know how different it feels for you now?” he asked.

  Isabella shrugged. “I can’t remember how I felt before it. It just feels natural now,” she thought for a moment, “I guess it is like, sometimes, we share a mind and a heart.”

  Tyrath looked to Sisera. “Does that describe it?” She nodded.

  “Incredible,” the bronze-yellow said. “So, now you’re looking for Apophis? Why. If you don’t mind me asking?”

  Sisera and Isabella launched into the story of the attack on the Tower and their friend’s trip to Droll.

  “And Oshri did not return with them?” he asked after their tale was done.

  “I don’t really get it either,” Isabella said. “They wouldn’t really talk about it though. Adina said he was fine, so I trust that he is. But that left me without a teacher. I think that it was time anyway because I don’t feel like I was really learning more from him anyway.”