***
Brother Maynard wiped his hands on the front of his robes as he watched Tamera leave. Then he returned his attention to Pancras. The minotaur noted that the man’s hands trembled, and he seemed out of breath.
“Are you all right? You don’t look well.”
Maynard waved his hand and shook his head. “I fell behind so I ran to get here before dark. It’s hard work running in this heat. I’ll be fine.”
Pancras pressed his mug into the priest’s hands. Maynard drained the mug and set it on the countertop before wiping his mouth with his sleeve.
“Now, what couldn’t you tell me in the city?”
“We believe”—Maynard wrung his hands as his eyes darted back and forth, searching the room for eavesdroppers—“recent disturbances are linked to the Lich Queen. Lord Tyron has forbidden anyone to speak of the incidents or interfere, upon pain of death.”
The minotaur furrowed his brow and placed his hand on Maynard’s shoulder. “Who is Lord Tyron?”
“Minister of the Council of Lords. He rules the city.”
Gisella brushed a stray hair out of her face. “And what of the king? Has he no say?”
The priest shook his head and stared into his empty mug. “Lord Tyron controls information going to and from Verdant Palace. The king is preoccupied with the health of Queen Andraste. She’s been ill of late.”
Pancras scratched his chin. “Could they be related? Perhaps Lord Tyron has something to do with her ill turn?”
“No, no, we don’t think so.” Brother Maynard shook his head with vigor. “The queen suffers from… well, those of us who are privy swore not to speak of it. The king feels it would undermine the peoples’ love and respect for her.”
Qaliah snorted. “Sounds like something she caught from a suitor.”
“Goodness, no!” Brother Maynard faced the fiendling, his eyes wide. “The king knows all about it and tends to it. He is a good man.”
“Then perhaps he could lend aid”—Gisella pursed her lips at Qaliah and gave her a shake of her head—“if we were to get word to him?”
“I doubt you could get word to him. As I said, Lord Tyron controls all information going to Verdant Palace. Without his say, you couldn’t even get through the gates.”
“I could.” Qaliah grinned.
“A fiendling sneaking around the royal palace?” Pancras covered his eyes with his hand and shook his head. “What could possibly go wrong?”
“Bonelord Pancras is correct.” Brother Maynard glanced at his empty mug on the counter. “If you’re caught, you’d be killed on sight.”
Pancras bit his lip and paced. “I would like to avoid involving the royalty, at any rate. I had a bad experience with that in Almeria.” He winced as a twinge of remembered pain shot through his stomach and knee. The minotaur turned to the priest. “What makes you think the Lich Queen is involved?”
“Graves in the necropolis have been disturbed. Tombs lie open and empty.” Brother Maynard licked his lips. “It started with veterans of the last war, the dead who defeated the Lich Queen.”
Qaliah drew one of her daggers and picked her nails with it. “No one noticed these dead stiffs walking around?”
The priest snapped his head around to face her. “There were rumors, of course, when it first started. Those who spoke of the dead leaving the necropolis were rounded up. It only took a few nights before no one saw anything anymore.”
“That would certainly explain the attitudes we encountered.” Gisella twirled a stray lock of hair around her finger. “The people on the streets don’t act as if anything is amiss, though.”
“The people of Vlorey”—Brother Maynard clasped his hands together and shifted his weight—“have lost much to the Lich Queen. Almost an entire generation of good folk in the last war. Of course, the Council of Lords has always been fickle and, at times, despotic. These new decrees are different, true, but they’re nothing worse than they’re used to. King Conner’s options are limited at the moment, but he is trying to make changes. Consensus building takes time.”
Pancras nodded. A part of life in Drak-Anor, he avoided politics whenever possible. “And it’s difficult when those from whom you need consensus feel they’re sacrificing without gain.”
“Precisely.”
“Forget those stodgy, old bastards, then.” Qaliah sheathed her dagger. “Let’s just be big damned heroes and deal with it all ourselves. Pancras can deal with the undead, right?”
“To a point.” Destroying the undead wasn’t the problem; rather, whomever was responsible for raising them en masse was, and if the city leaders were involved, it added a delicate complication.
Pancras took a seat and rubbed his forehead. Why are the politicians always involved?
The door creaked open. “Finished your sedition yet?” Tamera poked her head into the room. “I’d like to get back to work.”
Gisella bowed. “Our apologies.” She gestured to the bar. “Please, don’t let us interfere with your work.”
Tamera led Varina into the room. The young woman carried a tray laden with a variety of white cheeses, breads, and cured meats. She placed the tray on the counter between Pancras and Gisella.
“Refresh your meads?”
The four made small talk while they supped. Pancras contemplated what he learned as he chewed on a piece of herbed bread slathered with butter. I should like to be in the necropolis during a double-dark night and see what’s really going on.
“You know, I’d like to go up to one of these fishing villages.” Gisella took a long draught of mead and wiped her mouth on her sleeve. “See if there’s truth in the stories the fisher folk tell.”
“That’s a good idea.” Pancras nodded. “They’re less likely to worry about the decrees of the lords of Vlorey. Alas, I cannot go. I have duties at the Arcane University.”
Qaliah took Gisella’s arm. “I’ll keep her company. Maybe we’ll find some strapping, lonely men up there.”
Tamera snorted. “Don’t settle for those louts.” She gestured toward Qaliah. “Besides, they’re not very welcoming toward your kind.”
“I should be off.” Brother Maynard straightened his robes. “There’s a priory up the road a bit. It’s too late to return to the city now.”
“Yes, we suspected as much.” Pancras smiled at Tamera. “May we impose upon your hospitality and set up a small camp behind the meadery?” He jingled his coin pouch. “I can compensate you.”
With payment for their repast rendered and the meadery suitably compensated for the trouble of housing their horses overnight, Pancras, Gisella, and Qaliah bade good night to Brother Maynard and the meadery family and made their camp behind the main building.
They discussed their strategy for the next several days. Gisella and Qaliah would travel up the coast and talk to folk in the nearby fishing villages while Pancras returned to Vlorey and observed the next double-dark night from within the city. When morning arrived, they purchased more bread, cured meat, and cheese from Tamera and her family, including a small cask of mead for Gisella, and headed out.
Chapter 14
Kale and Kali crept forward, darting between boulders and shrubs as they closed the distance between the city and the dragon. I wish we had this harness when we brought the egg down out of the mountains. Kale returned his attention to the dragon, marveling at how the creature’s shimmering scales reflected the sunlight as he chased down a buck, pouncing on it like a mammoth cat.
Even from the distance that separated them, Kale heard the cracking of bones and tearing of sinew as the dragon tore into its meal. His mate’s face was drawn tight, and she glanced over her shoulder at the city.
“Don’t worry.” Kale stroked her arm. “At least he won’t be hungry when we face him.”
Kali slapped away his hand. “I doubt that little buck will fill his belly. Maybe it’s just enough to whet his appetite.”
He tapped the sigil on his chest. “A Firstborne put this here. He won’t
eat me.”
“Maybe I’m worried about the dragon eating me.” Kali’s nostrils flared as her eyes flashed in anger.
Kale swallowed and stroked her arm. “I won’t let that happen. Kali”—He held her to prevent her from leaving—“please, I need you with me. I won’t let him hurt you. Trust me. Please.”
The striped drak closed her eyes and nodded. “Fine. If you weren’t my mate…”
He didn’t want to ponder that at the moment. “Let’s go.”
They approached the dragon as it hunkered down, chewing on the remains of the buck. Kale motioned for Kali to follow him as he circled the wyrm. A feeling deep inside cautioned that approaching an eating dragon from behind would be one of the more stupid decisions he could ever make in his life.
Cold mountain wind blew across the boulder-covered plain. The dragon angled its wings to keep their fine membranes from catching wind like sails. Kale couldn’t help but stare at the dancing colors playing across his glistening, ice-like scales. The dragon tossed back his head, swallowing a man-sized hunk of buck, and growled deep in his chest.
“I can smell you.”
Kale froze in place. His mate gasped and seized his arm, digging her claws into his scales.
“You have the stink of the city upon you, little skulkers. Little sneak-thieves.” The dragon swung his head around and inhaled. He locked eyes with Kale before unleashing his icy breath at the two draks.
The sigil in the middle of Kale’s chest flared with a brilliant light as the blast of snow and ice reached them. A reflex action, he spread his wings to shield himself and his mate. A frozen curtain enveloped them, passing over and to either side, leaving them unscathed even as it turned the surrounding area frosty white.
Kale grimaced as he felt his mate’s claws pierce the flesh on his arm. “Ow!”
“How did I let you talk me into this madness?”
The dragon’s breath abated, and he roared into the sky, rearing up on his legs and then descending before them. The ground shook as he landed, and the great beast swung his head down to the draks’ level. His eyes fixed on the glowing sigil on Kale’s chest.
“Draevyehfehdin!” He inhaled deeply through his nose and rumbled. “Old magic. Dead magic.”
The drak opened his mouth to speak, but the dragon poked him in the chest with a talon longer than a knight’s sword. “Who marked you thus?”
“Terrakaptis, the Earth Dragon.” Now I find out if this mark means as much as he said it does.
“He lives?”
Kale nodded and pried Kali’s fingers loose from his arm. “He lairs at the World Tree in Drak-Anor.”
The dragon’s eyes lingered on Kali. He sniffed the air. “Did his magic grant you wings, as well? Hmm, and yet, you travel with an egg thief. I smell your prize.” Like a child playing knucklebones, he snatched up Kali. Kale dove to catch the egg-laden pack as she screamed and dropped it.
“Wait! Stop!” Kale revealed the egg in the pack. “We didn’t steal it. We saved it.”
The dragon’s eyes narrowed, and a long, sinuous tongue snaked from his mouth, dragging along the drak in his hand. Kali squealed.
“If he doesn’t eat me, you’ll regret this, Kale!”
Kale swallowed and set the egg before the dragon. “We traveled to the lair of Pyraclannaseous. She was already dead, killed by a wizard, but we found this. We couldn’t leave it there.”
“Terrakaptis’s sister.” The dragon licked his lips, bringing Kali to them and kissing her before setting her down alongside her mate. She glared at Kale as she wiped off globules of saliva from her face. “Tell me of this dragon-slaying wizard.”
“He… he was the…” Kale glanced over at his mate and moved to help her, but she snarled at him and backed away. “He was the archmage of Muncifer.”
“I will destroy him.” The dragon reared up and spread his wings.
“You can’t.” Kale stepped forward, holding up his hands. “He’s dead already.”
“The murder of a Firstborne must be avenged. It is an affront to the gods.”
“My sister killed him.” Kale puffed out his chest and spread his wings. “She challenged him to answer for his crimes, including the slaying of Pyraclannaseous.”
“I am Yaamkyrsku, the Frost Wyrm of the Southern Watch.” The dragon bowed his head before he glanced up and smiled at Kali. “Your mate is tasty. Fortunately, I am sated for now. Besides, you have done the draev a service, it seems.”
“We’ve kept the egg safe.” Kale approached Kali. She stood a few steps behind him with her arms wrapped around herself. He reached for her, but she shook her head and stepped away from him. “We don’t know what to do with it.”
Yaamkyrsku rolled it with one of his claws and then picked it up. He cradled it close to his breast. “I would be honored to deliver it to a Firstborne. Where is this Drak-Anor?”
Kale pointed in the general direction of the mountains. “Many months north, in the Dragon Spine Mountains, under the volcano Bloodplume.”
“I will find it.” Yaamkyrsku leapt into the air and spread his wings. The force of the air blasting down threw Kale to the ground as the dragon took flight.
Kale reached toward the dragon. “Wait! I saw The Sundering. I have questions. We should come with…”
Yaamkyrsku ascended higher and higher, far out of range of Kale’s pleas. The dragon flew toward the mountains and angled north.
“Damn it.” Kale stood and brushed himself off. He glanced over at his mate. Kali pursed her lips, crossed her arms, and turned without a word.
“Kali, wait!” The drak reached for his mate and chased after her.
Ignoring him, she quickened her pace. He followed behind her, calling after her, but he gave up by the time they reached the city gates. When they returned to Muncifer, the guards had withdrawn their alert, and the gates had opened once more. Curious citizens poured out, hoping to catch a glimpse of the departing dragon, and Kale lost her in the crowd.
His wings drooped as he made his way home. A minotaur selling potatoes from a cart chuckled as Kale shuffled past.
“I know that look.”
“Just what I need right now, a wiseacre minotaur.” Kale made a rude gesture as he passed. Up ahead, he saw Ori struggling with several scrolls and a tome.
“Oh! Kale. Wow, she’s mad. I thought it would be safe to call it an early day.”
Kale stopped to pick up a scroll the blue drak dropped and placed it on top of the pile Ori held. “Did she say anything?”
“Oh, no, not really. She complained about needing a bath, I think. There was a lot of swearing.”
Kale patted Ori on the shoulder. “All right. We’ll see you tomorrow, huh? Maybe I’ll take you up to the Arcane University, so we can have lunch with my sister.”
“Oh. That’d be great. I really like her, Kale. I hope it’s okay to tell you that…”
The striped drak nodded and waved to Ori, leaving the blue drak to ramble to himself. He peeked through the cloudy front window, and seeing no one, cracked the door. When he wasn’t immediately assaulted with fruit, books, or profanity, Kale entered and locked the door behind him.
He found his mate standing by their washbasin, stripped to her scales. She stiffened when Kale entered the room, and her tail lashed from side to side.
“Kali?”
The female drak turned to face him, her teeth glinting in the light of their lamps. “I used to think you were a dashing hero.”
“I…” Kale wasn’t sure what to say. He didn’t understand why she was so angry. The egg was gone, no longer their responsibility, and they had talked to a dragon.
“Shut up.” She stepped forward and poked him in the chest. “You’re reckless and irresponsible. We could have been killed. A dragon almost ate me, Kale.” She punctuated each word with a poke of her clawed finger. “A. Dragon.”
He placed his hand over the sigil on his chest. “Terrakaptis marked me. I knew Yam… Yammas… ker…” Kale found the fro
st wyrm’s name much more difficult to remember than Terrakaptis. “I knew he wouldn’t hurt me.”
“Exactly. He wouldn’t hurt you. Did you know that thing on your chest would protect me? That the dragon would automatically extend the same courtesy to me?” She crossed her arms over her chest as she glared at him.
“Well, I thought… uh.” He looked at the floor and rubbed his arm where she had dug in her claws. “I guess… no. I guess I didn’t.”
Gods, she’s right. She could’ve died, and it would have been my fault. Kale felt his legs weaken and tremble. Tears welled in his eyes, and he eyed his mate. “I’m sorry. I was—”
“You are”—she pointed to the front of the shop—“sleeping out there tonight. Get out. I won’t banish you from our home, but I am banishing you from our bed. Think about it, Kale. Think about what you really want. Are we mates because Pacha’s madness took you, or do you really want a life together?”
She gripped him by the shoulders and spun him, pushing him into the hallway. He stumbled forward and grasped the wall to steady himself. Kale felt her judgement on him as he shuffled away.
***
“Do you really think this Firstborne of yours will help us?” Alysha stood against the wall of Delilah’s chambers, arms crossed beneath her bosom. Katka sat at the table, flipping through a text that described runes from various cultures.
“Terrakaptis loves my brother.” Delilah spun her Herald Stone in her hands. She’d spent the previous day outlining her plan with the Frost Queen and convincing the woman that Katka could be of help, even if they kept the details of Alysha and Gisella’s family history from her.
The archmage nodded. “He’ll help. The challenge”—she held up a finger—“will be in waking him up. It’s only been five years since we first woke him, and he’d been sleeping since The Sundering. The Earth Dragon is a drowsy dragon.”
“Sounds typical. Yaamkyrsku should be able to carry two humans and two draks.” Alysha eyed Katka. “Good thing you’re a little scrawny, girl.”
“Hm?” Katka glanced up from her book.
“How did you find your dragon, by the way?” Delilah had never heard of a dragon allying itself with a wizard in the manner in which Alysha and Yaamkyrsku seemed to be.
Salvation (Scars of the Sundering Book 3) Page 19
