“Pah,” Brenwar said, “you won’t like the taste.”
“I won’t? Why not?” Ben said.
“Well, do you like meat?”
“Sure, everyone does,” Ben said. “Don’t they?”
“Well, their meat tastes like fruit and gardens, farm boy. And their ale tastes like honey. Do you like honey, boy?”
“Uh,” Ben said, scratching his head.
“Well?”
Ben rode up to me and said, “Brenwar scares me.”
“Ho! Ho! Ho!” Brenwar said from behind.
“Take it easy, Ben. Brenwar’s set in his ways, you know.”
“Does their meat really taste like vegetables?”
“Don’t worry, you’ll like it,” I said. “I always do.”
Well, I mostly did. The elves didn’t eat much meat. Not much of any at all. As a matter of fact, they ate very little.
That was one of things that was different about Elome. There weren’t taverns like the other cities. Whatever they needed they just plucked from the vines that cropped up everywhere.
The elves nurtured.
The plant life fed.
I plucked some fruits from a vine we passed and tossed one to Ben and another to Garrison.
“Eat,” I said. “There’s plenty.”
Brenwar was scoffing in the back. I tossed him a fruit. He snatched it from the air, eyes filled with venom.
“What’s this for?” Brenwar said.
“To eat,” I said. “It won’t kill you.”
“Dwarves don’t eat fruit! We eat beast. We eat stew!” He chucked it at one of the children.
The light-headed boy snatched it with his hand, nodded, and took a bite out of it.
“Next time I’ll toss him a rock to eat.”
“Come,” Bayzog said, taking the lead. “I’ll take us to the Place of Meets.”
***
The Place of Meets was marvelous: a gathering space a mile long and a mile high. We weren’t so unique there. Men and elves consulted. Halflings and gnomes appeared, shuffling by with smiles and intense conversations. Brenwar, arms folded over his breast plate, made it a point to scowl at each and every one of them. He took pride in being part of the tallest of the short races and didn’t hesitate to make it known.
“Sit, everyone.” Bayzog took his place on a sofa carved in a tree with violet-covered moss cushions.
Sasha sat close beside him.
“Sit, everyone,” he said again. “Relax. They won’t be with us anytime soon.”
“You can say that again,” Brenwar said.
Ben hopped from spot to spot. Sampling the foods. Tasting the drinks the elven servants laid out. Finally he stretched out on a padded lounge and stuffed fruits and cheeses in his mouth.
“Sit!” he said. “How about live? This room is the most wondrous thing I’ve ever seen. I could live here!” He thumped his arms on his furniture. “Right here. This spot! Never move again.”
An elven maiden with pale-violet hair and green eyes sauntered in with another tray. She was petite, pretty, eyes engaging.
Ben choked. Thumped his chest with his fist. Took a drink. “Hello,” he managed to spit out. “My name’s Ben.”
She nodded and walked away.
“Ah!” Ben said. “Did you see that, Dragon? The way she looked at me? I think she likes me!”
“I think you need to ease up on the elven fruit juice, Ben. It’s pretty potent.”
Sasha and Garrison chuckled along with me.
Everyone else was quite serious.
“What?” Ben said. “I swear she liked me. She really did.”
After an hour, everyone had settled in, chatting openly with one another. The elven juice often did that to you.
Brenwar groaned when he took a seat. “I’m sitting, but I swear I won’t be comfortable.” He combed his beard with his fingers. Grumbled. “Better not be no pixies.”
Now came the wait.
The waits weren’t so bad for the likes of me, Brenwar, Shum, or Bayzog. But to humans like Sasha, Ben, and Garrison, it could be agonizing. It was one of the reasons men didn’t mingle with the elves so much. Elven things took a long time. A simple meeting might not start for days, maybe weeks, unless you planned it out well in advance. In the case of us, our business was unexpected. There was no telling when they’d officially greet us.
I took a chair near Bayzog and Sasha. Tried to enjoy the tunes of the elven bards who strummed and strolled along. I was uncomfortable, though.
Waiting, which really wasn’t much of an issue with dragons, made me think of my father. He always made me wait. Well, maybe not wait as much as dragon things just taking a long time. But right now, I wouldn’t mind waiting to see him again as opposed to maybe never seeing him again at all.
I set down my goblet of elven juice. I needed to focus.
“Thanks for bringing me here,” Sasha said to Bayzog. “I’ve always wanted to come.”
Bayzog sat with his arm on her knee, poised but not relaxed.
I could feel the tension in him. I understood it. I could relate. But I had to wonder what he was thinking. I didn’t know much about Bayzog and his family.
Sasha gently turned Bayzog’s chin with her fingers, to face her.
“Why don’t you go see them while we wait? I’m sure they miss you.”
I saw a little fire ignite in Bayzog’s violet eyes. But that fire was met with Sasha’s sweet determination.
Good for her, I thought.
“Perhaps,” Bayzog said.
The night came. The leaves on some of the trees glowed, and all the humans in our party fell asleep. The rest of us sat in the quiet. Alone in our thoughts. Contemplating the next step in the journey. Would the elves help? Or would they shun our efforts?
There was only one way to find out.
Wait.
CHAPTER 23
High Priestess Selene, accompanied by a dozen acolytes and lizard men, had finished her journey west toward the Ruins of Barnabus. It was there her lord lived, hidden from prying eyes deep inside the belly of the mountainous terrain. They rode on horseback, traversing the narrow trails until they stopped at a cave mouth. It resembled a maw, dragonlike, more than forty feet tall. Standing just outside the entrance, she rubbed her shoulder. It was cold in there. Dark. Vast. She could feel eyes all over her.
“Stay here,” she said. “And make no sudden moves.” She pointed at the ledges of the cave’s entrance.
Several carved dragons blended in with the stones and vegetation. As big as men, some bigger. They were breathing. Their eyes sparkled like gems.
“You don’t want those guardians to greet you. One bite and it’s over.”
Inside she went, heavy, dark robes dragging over the ground, tail swishing back and forth. She felt cold. Nervous. She was the High Priestess of Barnabus, so she shouldn’t fear anything. Yet she did. Her breath showed. Her heart beat faster. The cavern smelled of death. Decay. A tomb of sorts.
Straight she went. Down a gentle grade until a distant light shone. Torches, the fires green and blue ignited by magic.
A massive stone archway adorned in gargoyle heads and dragons looked down at her.
She kneeled. Bowed. “High Priestess Selene comes to see the master of all masters. The priest of all priests. The one true Lord of Nalzambor.”
On the other side of the archway, two stone urns flared with icy, burning light. In between them, a throne made for someone ten times her size waited. Empty.
“COME.”
The voice was deep as a canyon. Powerful as a stormy wind.
Selene made her way inside. Stopped at the marble step as high as her head and bowed.
She felt small. Insignificant. Her hands went cold. She waited what seemed to her a long time.
“YOU TREMBLE. WHY, SELENE?”
She swallowed. Words were stuck in her throat. She trembled.
“HAVE YOU NO GOOD NEWS TO BRING?”
“I-I do.”
“LOOK AT ME!”
She snapped her chin up. A presence sat. Huge. Ominous. A dragon-like being of shadows and scales. His eyes were black pits with burning stars in the middle. A crown of thorns adorned his head. He sat like a man. Shoulders like a Titan’s. But all dragon.
“THAT’S BETTER … DAUGHTER. WHAT NEWS DO YOU HAVE FOR ME?”
She yelled, even though she didn’t have to, her voice echoing.
“Nath Dragon has black scales, Father.”
“HEH … HEH. SOON NALZAMBOR WILL BE OURS. BUT I GROW IMPATIENT.” He reached down his hand. “COME.”
She stepped onto the center of his hand.
He lifted her like a doll and set her on the arm of the chair.
Still looking up at him, she waited. The dragon was her father so far as she knew. She’d never known any other parents other than the family of Barnabus.
Unknown to her, this was a lie. Barnabus had been a hero in the first dragon wars. His legend had been twisted into something else. His good name used to spread evil. It had all been the idea of Gorn Grattak, the Dragon Lord on the throne. King of the evil dragons. One of a few survivors of the last Dragon War.
“TELL ME MORE, CHILD.”
The tightness in her chest eased. Her confidence returned. She’d made it this far. She’d live.
She said, “We capture dragons by the dozens now. We’ve turned the world against them. For every one Nath Dragon saves, we take ten. Extinguish them. Sell them. Or bring the willing ones here. As you wish, Father.
“We watch Nath Dragon. Wear him down. Hunt and destroy his friends. His allies. He’s still attached to this world. Banished from the Dragon Home. A wayward one, trying to redeem himself.”
Again, Selene waited what seemed to her a long time.
“HIS REDEMPTION MUST NEVER HAPPEN,” Gorm Grattak said. “SEE TO THAT PERSONALLY, IF YOU MUST.”
“Yes, Father.”
“I CANNOT LEAVE, DAUGHTER. ELSE I BE DISCOVERED. I FEEL MY STRENGTH GROWING. MY ARMY BUILDS.”
He waved his arm across the air. The entire chamber lit up. Bones, treasures, and tributes covered the edges of the room. A mural filled with dragons battling in a storm spanned the entire back wall. There were hundreds of them. No two alike. They moved. They hissed. Trying to escape one world for the other.
“THEY ARE READY TO FIGHT. THEIR BANISHMENT ALMOST OVER. SOON WE WILL RUN THIS WORLD OVER.” He lifted her chin with his clawed finger. “THE TURNING OR DEATH OF NATH DRAGON WILL MAKE IT CERTAIN. I PREFER HIM TURNED.” He snorted. Smoke billowed from his nose like icy air. “GO NOW, DAUGHTER. RETURN ONLY WHEN YOU HAVE SUCCEEDED.” He set her down.
The room went black.
She didn’t turn. Just walked away. Though she had no aversion to darkness, she welcomed the light of the sun that greeted her at the end. She would do things right or else she would be dead.
As she cleared the mouth of the cave, her heart stopped.
She gasped.
All of the lizard men and acolytes were dead. Devoured in most cases. Even all the horses but one. She got into the saddle and eyed the guardians above the mouth of the cave. The statues didn’t move or blink, but their bellies bulged where’d they’d been flat before.
Her eyes narrowed.
Her jaw set.
Nath Dragon will be mine one way or the other. “Yah!”
CHAPTER 24
Three days later the elves came. It was a good thing, too. Ben and Garrison were getting antsy. Pestering the elves. Almost stalking them.
I didn’t have the patience to explain elven etiquette to them. Don’t touch. Don’t stare. Eat and sleep until they get here.
Brenwar grumbled every half day or so. Hadn’t eaten a thing.
Sasha lay on the sofa, legs over Bayzog’s lap. She slept most of the time.
Shum sat by himself. Eyes closed the entire time. But I could tell he saw everything through his ears. He was the first one to rise moments before the elven delegation appeared.
There were eight of them in all. Light and dark headed. Fair skinned and tanned. Adorned in soft and intricate robes. The tallest was half a foot shorter than me, the shortest half a head taller than Brenwar. Their expressions were stern but friendly.
I knew two of them and nodded.
They led us to another open room with a large oval table. It looked more like it was grown than carved.
“Dragon Son, it’s good to have you among us again,” one said. “I see Akron is still honored in your possession.”
“Yes, Laedorn,” I said. “Your excellent gift has never failed. Put a lot of new holes in orcs, I’ll say.”
He chuckled. “Those were the days,” he said. “So, Nath, I see you’ve changed since last we met. Is that what brings you here? I understand you seek the Ocular of Orray.”
I wanted to shrug. I only did this by the prompting of my friends and for the benefit of Shum and his king. I felt great.
“Yes,” I said, “my friend Bayzog believes it might heal me.”
Laedorn’s eyes drifted between Shum and Bayzog. The other elves’ eyes did as well. I could feel the tension among them. Something old. Unsettled.
Laedorn rested his eyes on Bayzog. Smiled briefly at Sasha.
“Bayzog, you should visit with your family. They miss you. But they respect your privacy. They don’t anticipate your arrival, but that’s up to you.”
“Tell them I’ll return when the time is right,” Bayzog said, “but that time is not now. Certainly the elves are aware that damp winds have begun to prevail. The seasons change. Rapidly.”
“We know this. The evil races are emboldened. Their skirmishes increase. They’ve crossed our lands and hunted our game. Testing us day in and day out.” Laedorn’s brow furrowed. “Tell me what you have learned of the Ocular of Orray.”
Bayzog furrowed his own brow. “It can heal anything. Curses. Lycanthropy. Disease. I’ve even read it can take you from one time to another. Perhaps it can return Dragon to form. Take him back to before the trouble started.”
“Possibly.”
“But,” Bayzog said, “it’s been taken. Stolen. Scattered in six pieces all over this world. Taken from right underneath the elves’ noses. A hundred years after the last war.”
“You suppose,” Laedorn said. “But you do not know for certain.”
“And you do, Laedorn? Are the histories wrong? My sources polluted?”
The elves at the table muttered in Elvish among themselves. There weren’t speaking thoughts so much as grumbling at one another. I spoke Elvish and many other things, but they muttered with uncertainty.
“Enough,” Laedorn said. He turned his focus to Shum. “And what is your interest in all of this, Roamer Shum?”
“I’m doing it for my king, Sansla Libor,” Shum said.
The elves stirred.
“There is no king but the one Elven King,” Laedorn said. His eyes narrowed. “Mind your manners.”
“Your king is here, in these lands. The Roamers have one king and one alone. Sansla Libor is the king of the Roamers.” Shum said it matter of factly with a bow. “Always has been; always will be.”
“Your king,” Laedorn said, voice hardening, “is wanted for murder, Shum. Over a dozen elves died by his hands. There’s blood on that winged monster’s claws. You know this. All of the elves know this.”
“He’s cursed!” Shum said, slamming his fist on the table.
All the humans jumped in their seats.
Shum went on. “He cannot be blamed.”
Laedorn said, “Curse or no curse, the blood is on his hands, not someone else’s, Roamer. We hunt him, yet you protect him.”
“You don’t seek to cure him,” Shum said. “You seek to destroy him.”
“He needs to stand trial. He must answer. He must be stopped. He kills, Shum. You’ve seen it. He’ll kill today. Kill tomorrow.” Laedorn tapped his fingers together. “So I presume you want the Ocular to cure your king?”
“You would do the
same thing for your king, wouldn’t you?” Shum leaned forward on the table. “Isn’t that what this Occular is for—healing?”
“Healing the sick. Not murderers!”
“All right, everyone,” I cut in. “Let’s back up. About the Ocular, Laedorn. We want to help find it. Will you let us do that at least?”
The elves went stone cold silent. Expressionless. One and all. They had secrets deeper than the world. They guarded them well.
All eyes were on Laedorn. Except Brenwar’s. His eyes were closed. Head back. Snoring softly.
Laedorn sighed. “Dragon, I need you to come with us. As well as Bayzog and Shum.”
“Why?”
“It has been required of me. You see, Dragon, as soon as you showed up, we met. Our full council, not just these elves. Even the king. The decision has been made.”
“What decision?” I said, easing my way out of my chair.
“I need you to leave your weapons and come with us,” Laedorn said, “Now.”
Elven Guard sealed the room. Leaf-shaped helmets on their heads. Elven steel on hips and spearheads. There must have been thirty of them.
Sasha clutched at Bayzog’s arm. “What is going on? Laedorn, is this how you treat your guests?”
“I’m sorry, lovely lady, but you’ll just have to trust me. Dragon, must I ask again?”
I unhitched Akron, unbuckled Fang, and dropped them on the table. “Lead the way.”
After all, I still had my claws.
Not to mention my breath.
CHAPTER 25
The Elven Guard led us on a casual march through the city. Not a single eye batted. It was as if strangers and armed guards strolled through the city all the time. The three of us were side by side, Bayzog in the middle, the elven greeters in front and behind us, with Laedorn close by.
“I wasn’t expecting this, Laedorn,” I said, not hiding the irritation in my voice. “Didn’t you forget to shackle us?”
He said nothing.
We kept going, following a planked roadway that led up and around the trunk of a tree. We came to a tunnel concealed behind the woodland. I’d never heard of an elven dungeon before, but this had to be one.
The Chronicles of Dragon Collection (Series 1 Omnibus, Books 1-10) Page 43
