by Lana Axe
Nodding, Zamna understood exactly what she meant. The Enlightened Elves had a strict system of government. The Grand Council could strip any wizard of his possessions if he was suspected of misconduct. Certain types of magic were banned or tightly controlled. Their laws were strange to him, but joining in the Cult’s rituals would probably qualify as a crime. The brethren had likely been exiled as well, though it was doubtful any would wish to return to their original home. These men had dedicated themselves to Iracidae, and they worshipped her.
Zamna could understand their obsession. She was probably the most beautiful creature he’d ever laid eyes on, and he’d seen a good portion of the world. Her voice was almost hypnotic, easing his mind with only a few words. Though he wouldn’t knowingly fall under her spell, he could see how someone could easily do so. Some might even want to. He yearned to know this majestic creature, to gaze upon her for as long as possible.
“You grow silent, reptiloid,” she said, her tone amused.
“I was just thinking,” he said. “Are you really the ancestor of my people?” With a half-smile creeping across his lips, he silently hoped she’d say yes. Being related to a dragon, even distantly, would be an honor.
Laughing, Iracidae asked, “You think I’m old enough to be anyone’s ancestor? I’m young by the measure of dragons.”
Zamna laughed as well. “No, certainly you are in the prime of your life. I meant are dragons related to my people?”
“I don’t know,” Iracidae replied. “I’ve never seen any of your kind before.” Her green eyes moved close to his face. “You’re certainly an interesting creature. Where are you from?”
“The island of La’kerta,” he replied. “My people are nicely hidden beneath the jungle canopy. Perhaps you flew over us once without taking any notice.”
“It’s possible,” she stated. “If I did not detect the scent of gold, then I had no reason to stop.”
“You won’t find much of that on La’kerta,” he told her.
“Tell me,” she said, “do all La’kertan eyes glow red?”
“No,” he answered. “This was a ruse to fool the Cultists. They wouldn’t let me in to see you until I appeared as one of their manifestations.”
Amused, Iracidae’s mouth formed into a toothy smile. “Clever,” she said. “The brethren aspire to a form such as yours. In a thousand years, I’ve never seen one of them achieve it.”
“You didn’t think I was one of them?” Zamna wondered.
“Not for a moment,” she replied. “Your scent is far too strange.”
“I don’t suspect you’re easily fooled,” he admitted.
“Quite right,” she said. “The brethren might not be the smartest, but they serve a great purpose. They see to all my needs and bring me whatever I desire for a feast. Sometimes they travel months to find it. My tastes are refined, and some meats are incredibly hard to come by these days.”
Zamna wasn’t sure he wanted to discuss dinner plans with this dragon. She might decide she’d like to give La’kertan a taste. He wondered where to steer the conversation next, but luckily the dragon decided for him.
“It did take some time to get used to their incessant chanting,” Iracidae went on. “I learned to tune them out after a year or so. You know they can go on for days at a time?”
The statement puzzled Zamna. “Are you trapped here?”
“Certainly not,” Iracidae replied. “I come and go as I please.”
“Then why stay?” he wondered. “Especially if the brethren annoy you.”
“Because it’s a comfortable enough existence,” she said. “For now at least.”
Looking toward the exit, he asked, “Does that opening lead toward the ocean?”
“It does,” she answered. “Ahh, little reptile, have you ever flown above the sea? It is a marvelous experience.”
“Can’t say that I have,” he replied. After a pause, he asked, “Why do you stay in this cave? It’s mostly dark, and it seems cramped for a dragon and her hoard.”
“I fly above the sea every morning, basking in the sun’s warming rays,” she replied. “In the evenings as well. I enjoy the touch of the moonlight on my scales.”
Zamna suspected she would look much as she did now beneath the moonlight. Only her eyes would be visible to those below. Anything she chose to attack would never see her coming. An assassin by nature’s design, he thought. Perhaps his old profession was not too far from what fate had intended, assuming he was indeed a son of dragons.
Since the dragon seemed at ease with the conversation, he decided it was time to ask about the book. He would try to convince her to speak with Taren as well, though he was not in a hurry to leave her presence. “Iracidae,” he began. Before he could finish, the dragon cut him off.
“You know my name,” she commented. “I have neglected to ask for yours.”
“I’m called Zamna,” he said.
“A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Zamna of La’kerta,” she replied, dipping her head in greeting. “Now we are formally introduced, I believe you were about to ask a favor of me.”
Was he so easy to read? He wondered if he was losing his touch. As an assassin, he frequently had to convince people that he was something harmless. A certain amount of skill in hiding the truth was a job requirement. Either he was out of practice, or the dragon was more intuitive than most. He suspected it was the latter.
“I did come seeking something, I’ll admit,” he said.
“I thought as much,” she replied. “No one comes here who does not desire a blessing or some token. Typically I’m asked for a scale to prove that one has indeed stood before a dragon. Is that what you desire, little reptile?”
Thinking on the fly, he responded, “A token of your beauty would certainly be an honor, but that is not why I have come.”
“Then what is it you seek?”
“There is an ancient tome somewhere among your treasures,” he stated. “Such a thing is likely worth little to you, who has so many fine possessions.” It couldn’t hurt to convince her she didn’t need the book. If it was taking up space that could be better filled with gold, she might turn it over in a heartbeat.
“There are several books within my collection,” she said. “Which one are you looking for?”
Taren hadn’t told him the title, most likely because he did not know it. “I cannot name the title,” he admitted. “But it contains information about dragons and their ability to place enchantments on items.” He hoped the description was enough for her. If she didn’t know which book it was, then it might never be found. Sifting through the hoard would take years.
“You’re a sorcerer?” she asked, narrowing her eyes. “You didn’t tell me.”
“No, Iracidae,” he said. “I am no sorcerer. I have no magic, nor do I personally have a use for the book. I ask on behalf of a friend.”
“Interesting,” she said, tapping a claw to her chin. “Why did this friend of yours not come to see me himself?”
“He’s a human,” Zamna replied. “His name is Taren, and he is a sorcerer. The Cultists would not let him in, due to his being unworthy. They said he would offend you with his presence and allowed me to come in his stead.”
“Human?” she repeated. “It has been many years since I encountered a human. Elves are more inviting to us dragons.”
Zamna waited in silence. He didn’t want to press the issue of the book. Taking his time and letting her get used to the idea was probably best. If he seemed desperate to get his hands on it, she might think it more valuable than it was. Of course, he had no idea of the book’s value. Imrit was willing to drag his former apprentice across the world to get it, so maybe it was worth a great deal.
If he couldn’t convince her to give it up, he wondered if she might at least let him see it. Once he knew its location, he could try to take it while she was away on one of her flights. Silently cursing, he hoped it didn’t come to that. Thieving from dragons had to be the most dangerous
thing one could do. If she came looking for him, he had little doubt she’d find him. After all, she had nothing but time on her hands—time she would use to track him down no matter where he tried to hide.
“What will your friend do with this book?” the dragon asked.
“He intends to decipher the powers of an ancient artifact,” he said. “One that was forged in dragon’s fire.” Taren had revealed as much during their time at sea, but Zamna hesitated to let the dragon know exactly what the artifact was. For one thing, he didn’t entirely know what the symbol was. In addition, he wasn’t sure if Iracidae might have known Ailwen, the symbol’s previous owner, who quite possibly lived and died during this dragon’s lifetime. If the two had been friends, the dragon might be angry that Taren had claimed it for himself. If there was any chance Iracidae knew her, no matter how remote, Zamna didn’t want to risk it.
“How will he manage such a task without a dragon to aid him?” Iracidae asked.
“He has the help of an older sorcerer, his mentor,” Zamna answered.
“That will not suffice,” the dragon replied, her voice cold. “Without my help, the tome you seek will be useless.”
Despite her tone, Zamna took that as a good sign. “Then you know which tome it is I seek?”
“I do indeed,” she replied. “But I repeat, it is useless to your friend. He will need my help to unlock this artifact’s secrets. It can only be deciphered in the flame in which it was forged.”
Suspicious, Zamna wondered if she knew more than she was saying. “Do you know which artifact he intends to unlock?”
“I have sensed its power since it walked into the shrine,” she admitted. “Though I am not familiar with this particular item, I know it is of great importance. The elves forged it eons ago with the help of my ancestors. It is ancient beyond reckoning, and no human sorcerer will unlock its full power unless aided by a dragon.”
There was only one question left to ask. “Will you help my friend?”
Iracidae considered the question for a moment. Her silence cut through Zamna like an icy blade. She would never agree to help a human. What a fool he had been to ask. He should have kept the truth from her and continued to act as a liaison for Taren’s needs. Maybe he could have convinced her he was the sorcerer. At least there would have been a chance. Now there was none. She would turn Taren away, just as the Cultists had. Zamna had failed.
“I will help him,” Iracidae declared.
Stunned, Zamna could find no words to reply. Then, with the glint of gold in his eyes, he realized the dragon would not work for free. There had to be a price—there always was. His mouth dry, he asked, “In exchange for what?”
A low rumbling laugh sounded deep in Iracidae’s throat. “Clever Zamna of La’kerta,” she said. “You understand us dragons better than I expected. Perhaps we are related after all.”
Suddenly growing impatient with the dragon, he asked, “What is your price?”
“A trifle, really,” she replied. “I will help your friend decipher the tome in exchange for a sacrifice.”
“A sacrifice of what?” Zamna asked, fearing the answer. His spine tingled as he awaited her response.
“I require a gift of flesh,” she said. “Human flesh.”
Chapter 14
“Human flesh?” Zamna asked, his throat growing tight. Had the dragon really asked him to harm his companions?
“Yes,” Iracidae answered. “I will not give your friend the tome he seeks for any other price.”
The La’kertan’s mind reeled, his scales bristling with anger. How dare she ask such payment? With great effort, he managed to keep his voice steady. “I cannot give you what you ask.”
“Why not?” she asked. “I smell the scent of two such beings above me in the shrine. Choose one of them, and bring him to me.”
Zamna could not accept this arrangement. She meant to murder one of the two men. “Years in this darkness have tainted your mind, beautiful Iracidae.” Perhaps flattery would get him somewhere.
“Lizard,” she replied, “you have my answer. Bring me what I require, or be gone from my sight.”
This was absolute insanity. In his lifetime, Zamna had dealt with people who weren’t all there, but this was far beyond his experience. Yes, he knew plenty of men and women who would pay to end someone’s life, but none who did so in order to consume them. He would never have accepted such a job, even in his most desperate moments. Letting his shoulders drop, he said, “What you ask is unethical. It is far too high a price, and I refuse to pay it.”
The cavern shook with the echo of the dragon’s laugh. “You would advise me on ethics?” she remarked. “I see your heart, lizard, and it is dark. Worse atrocities have been committed by your hand. Do you deny it?”
“I have taken lives,” he admitted. “But I will not trade the lives of those who have given me their trust. These are my friends you wish to kill, and I can’t allow it.”
“Allow it,” she repeated. “You do not command me. I could easily take them from you.” Sneering, she added, “I will command the brethren to give me one of those men as an offering. Go and choose who will live and who will die before I take them both! That is the final courtesy I give you.”
“Iracidae, you aren’t thinking clearly,” he pleaded. “Please, name another price.” He was out of ideas for bargaining. Begging was his last resort.
“Do not judge my by the state you see me in now,” she spat. “I choose this fat, lazy existence. I am ancient beyond your comprehension. In my time, I have ruled over great lands. My wrath is still terrible. Do not test my patience!”
Not knowing how to reply, Zamna swallowed hard. He would take her message to his companions and hope that one of them had a solution. If not, they might all be fleeing for their lives. Iracidae’s tone meant business, and he had no doubt she would act on her word. He strongly suspected the Cultists, or at least Jarraluc, were listening as well. They would be happy to do the dragon’s bidding. He had to get back to his companions before the brethren decided to take matters into their own hands.
Stumbling over piles of gold, Zamna could barely find his footing. Shaken by the dragon’s demand, he hurried away from her presence. She’d gone mad. That was the only explanation. Dragons did not eat humans. They ate cattle and sheep and whatever else they wanted. Wasn’t that how the stories went? Realizing that his mother’s old tales were just that, he began to understand. As some people were truly horrible, so were some dragons. Good and evil could be found among any sentient species.
Zamna continued to follow the dim beams of light. He couldn’t reach the exit soon enough. Forgetting the torch at first, he stepped into the darkness and tripped over his feet. Cursing, he backtracked to grab the torch and hurried along the path, ignoring the paintings this time. He had to get to Taren before the dragon gave her orders. The Cultists would not hesitate to kill for her.
The situation was dangerous, as Zamna had expected it would be. His momentary infatuation with the dragon had passed, and he now wanted nothing more to do with her. Instead of explaining, he wanted to grab Taren by the arm and drag him back to the boat. Imrit could stay if he wanted. Let him feed an arm or leg to the dragon in exchange for her book.
Something clicked in Zamna’s mind at the thought of Imrit. The old wizard was strange. He put the La’kertan’s senses on alert, a warning that he couldn’t be trusted. If it wasn’t for Taren, he would stay as far from Imrit as he could get. Though he had no proof, he suspected Imrit knew more than he’d said.
Reflecting on the dragon’s words, Zamna wondered how much Imrit really knew. Was he aware that the book was useless without the dragon’s help? Did he have a way around that? Zamna suspected he didn’t. The man seemed to know very little, all the while putting on airs that he had everything under control. Imrit couldn’t answer simple questions, instead taking the attitude that they would see when they got there.
Well, here they were on Ayumai, and the dragon was demanding
one of the humans be sacrificed for her dinner. Zamna stopped cold, his breath stolen away. Had Imrit known the price the dragon would ask? Did he intend to send Taren to his death?
The scenario made perfect sense, and it sent a shiver through the La’kertan. A hardened criminal in a feeble attempt to go straight, he saw both sides clearly. It was nothing to pretend to be a friend and then take a life. Sure it was more work, but sometimes it was necessary. Was that Imrit’s plan? He had taken Taren in as a child. Had he been planning this all those years?
Zamna couldn’t shake the thought of how wrong this situation was. In his new life, turning on a friend was unthinkable. A true friend, that is. Sighing, he realized Imrit and Taren were never really friends. Taren certainly thought the world of Imrit, but Imrit only wanted the young man to trade for his immortality.
How else could one explain the quest Taren had been sent on before? Retrieving the symbol cost two apprentices their lives. Taren was the lucky one. Imrit didn’t care who lived or died. He needed the symbol for his own immortality, and whoever returned with it would be given to the dragon. Zamna spat in disgust. He could never do something so despicable. Or could he? Shaking his head, he knew that he could not. At least, not anymore.
Reaching the end of the passage, he placed his hand on the door but hesitated to open it. Could he reveal Imrit’s treachery to Taren? Would the young sorcerer believe him? Taren was Zamna’s only true friend, but it was likely the herbalist would side with the man he’d known longer, the man who was like a father to him. Zamna would never be able to convince him. The only way to go about it would be to force Imrit to admit it. That was something Zamna would do, even it descended to violence.
That brought forth the question of whether he could defend himself against Imrit’s magic, and possibly Taren’s as well. He’d avoided magical beings in the past, and he doubted he could take on two sorcerers and live. Taren wouldn’t kill him, but Imrit might. Especially if the old man knew his secret was about to be revealed. It was an impossible situation.
