“When are we expected to go?” Talis said, but all Mara heard was him asking when he could see Princess Devonia again. As if he were thinking the sooner, the better…
“This afternoon. Yes, don’t look so surprised. We’re expected right after lunch when the Order of the Dragons will perform a demonstration for the Emperor and the Royal Court. I doubt you’ve ever heard of them, but you’re in for a real treat. They are simply amazing to behold.” Master Goleth rubbed his hands together and stood as if ready to leave. “I’ll leave you two to enjoy your breakfast. I’ve much to prepare before our visit. Make sure to dress in the complete formal attire I’ve had the servants set aside for you. I’ll stop by your rooms well in advance of the time of departure.”
The wizard walked out of the room as two servants brought covered silver salvers and set them on a wooden stand. One gleeful-faced waiter lifted the silver cover and flourished a hand at the steaming dish. He placed the plate of fish and rice and thinly sliced vegetables formed in an artistic twist in front of Mara. The servant ladled a white cream sauce over the fish, and bowed to them. The other servant poured tea for Mara and added a splash of milk to the spicy, aromatic tea. But she found that her hunger had vanished at the prospect of attending court.
Mara glanced at Talis and felt a lump of jealous guilt stick in her throat. This was so stupid, why was she feeling this way? Everything inside had been so confusing over the last week, ever since they’d left the smuggler’s cove. The wild feeling that had washed over her that night on the ship after the storm… The rage and ecstasy she felt against those sorcerers as she destroyed their lives so gleefully. And the disappointment that had knocked her down so quickly when Master Goleth had insisted that he alone would kill those two horrible criminals. He had every right considering the hurt and terror they’d committed against the wizard and his mother, but Mara felt like it was her retribution to mete out against the two old men.
“Where did you go off to?” Talis’s voice broke Mara’s reverie and she realized with a flush of embarrassment that she was staring stupidly at the food, the fork and knife stuck in her hands, and the meal untouched. She sent him a quick, apologetic smile.
“Sorry, I was just lost in thought. All of this”—she flourished her fork and Talis winced as if she were brandishing a weapon—“is a bit too much for me to deal with, I guess. You know what I mean?”
“I suppose so.” His voice sounded unconvinced and confused at her no doubt strange mood. She sighed and felt frustrated and for some reason just wanted to be alone.
“I’m being an idiot and I’m sorry for acting so stupid.” She dropped the fork and knife on the table and stood, excusing herself to Talis in a hasty rush.
He seized her wrist and she felt her arm tense and prepare to strike him down, and the weirdest part was that she saw Princess Minoweth’s dagger in her hand and the smooth arc as it cut across his beautiful neck and released an elegant spray of blood all over the white tablecloth. She gasped and blinked repeatedly, trying to eradicate the horrific image from her mind.
In a wild rush she shook free of his grasp and ran from the table, ignoring Talis’s pleas for her to come back. Gods, what was wrong with her? If she’d had a dagger in her hand she would’ve killed him, she knew that nothing in her power could’ve stopped her from doing that instinctual movement. It was like catching a ball that someone throws at you. Snap. Just like that.
Back in her room, she locked the door and yanked the curtains closed to cover herself in the soothing darkness. For comfort she found the daggers and cradled them like they were two nursing babies that she alone could nurture and give them life to sustain and quench their hunger. They fed from her and caused a fury to rise in her heart. She didn’t want to kill Talis. She only wanted to kill those two old terrible men, and the sorcerers that must have killed her father, and in a burst of hateful jealously, she wanted to kill Princess Devonia. Mara wanted to wipe that haughty smile from her pretty face with an angry slash across her pouty lips.
She threw the daggers into her pack and tried to clear her head. After thinking and sulking for a while, she got tired and disgusted of herself and decided to go and apologize to Talis for her ridiculous behavior. She glanced at her bag and decided to leave the daggers in the room, remembering the strong feeling of hatred and violence that had come over her from touching them. It was better to leave them.
At the door though, the pain surged in her stomach like the first time she had tried to separate herself from the weapons. She gasped, and in a burst of speed she turned and jogged back to where her bag rested by her bedside. What had changed? Since she’d made the agreement with the daggers she had often been away from them for long periods of time, like last night with Talis out and about the city. But something had changed and Mara could feel that the daggers were unrelenting in their insistence that she keep them close.
Could she put the daggers in one of the stylish purse bags that she had seen so many of the girls in the capitol wear? She headed to the dressing room and rummaged around through the dresses and shirts and bags and shoes that the servants had brought her. To her amusement, she even traced her fingers over the soft, silky and frilly underclothes that had been proffered her. Such strange and wonderful textures and designs, but for the life of her, she couldn’t figure out how these would be useful in any way at all. But they certainly were pretty, though she couldn’t picture herself actually wearing them. But would Talis like it if she wore them?
Finally she found a white leather purse with a stylish gold clasp of the sun at the top and she tried it on, inspecting herself in the mirror. It was small enough to look attractive, and large enough to hold both daggers. What else could she carry inside to conceal the weapons? She thought back to the square and all the pretty girls opening their purses and withdrawing tubes of red coloring to paint their lips, and containers of rouge to dab at their cheeks. Other girls had pencils to paint their eyes in brilliant, glittery colors that seemed infused with light and caused their eyes to glow and dance with magic.
She sifted through the perfumes and cases and metal tubes on top of the dressing table, uncertain of how they were all used. Some of the older girls in Naru wore color for their lips and cheeks, but nothing compared to the exotic applications of color and sparkle that the women of Carvina wore. She sniffed and scooped up several of the cases and tubes and tossed them inside her purse, caring little for actually using them, she just wanted something to hide her daggers.
Talis’s eyes were wary as he opened the door and he paused as he inspected her.
“I’m sorry,” she said, and pushed the door farther open and kissed him on the lips before he could say anything. She kicked the door closed and flung herself pathetically into his arms and felt enraged that he didn’t kiss her back with the same intensity as he had before on the ship. With a pouty separation she glanced up at him and batted her eyes in the way she’d seen Princess Devonia do to him several times.
“Are you feeling ok?” he said, and held her arms, a quizzical look marring his youthful face. “You’re acting kind of strange.”
The purse felt heavy on her shoulder, so she slung it around and slumped down on his bed, and stared out the windows at the clouds bunching together as if threatening a storm.
“Maybe I’m just jealous of the Princess.” She thought that perhaps honesty would earn her a bit of sympathy. She flicked out her fingers in an elegant flourish. “She’s just so refined and tall and older and more beautiful than me. Tell me the truth, tell me you’re not attracted to her. I know you are.”
The pause in his response…that just killed her and made her seethe inside.
“It’s not like that, Mara. Now don’t get all angry at me, what do you expect me to say? Yes, she’s pretty, but she’s also the daughter of the Emperor that wanted to destroy Naru and enslave or kill our people. Be reasonable. You know how I feel about you.”
She wanted to scream and slap him for acting so calm and rea
sonable. If Princess Devonia had barged into his room and kissed him and kicked the door closed, Mara knew for a fact that Talis wouldn’t be acting all reasonable. He’d be raging like an inferno, like the Fire Mage he was, all burning and flowing and bursting with power and lust. Why was he so contained and logical with her? Right now, what she wanted was the very opposite of logic…
“Get dressed,” she said, and pushed herself up and glanced contemptuously at his disheveled clothes. “I’m going back to my room.” And you can just think logically all you want, but do it without me. Perhaps she would ask one of the servant girls to show her how to apply the colors on her eyes and lips and cheeks. Certainly Princess Devonia’s brother would be more entertaining than Talis. An ill-logical brute might be a far more pleasant encounter than Talis and his stupid sensibilities…
“And remember, Talis. The only reason we’re here is to negotiate a peace treaty with Emperor Ghaalis. Master Goleth has arranged an audience with the Royal Court, but since my father is dead, I inherited his role as ambassador to Carvina. We’ll leave either when we die or they die, or when we walk away with a signed treaty. I really don’t care what we have to do to ensure peace for Naru. I won’t have war returning to our people again.”
Talis gaped at her, speechless, as she strode out of the room, her eyes refusing to look at him.
25. CULT OF THE DRAGONS
A shudder raged through Nikulo as he turned his eyes away from the horrible message etched on the temple walls. The Dragons Devoured the Songs. Indeed, how true, as there was no music remaining at all in the city. Only a shell of its former beauty, without the color and soul of songs pouring out in the streets. After the charm and beauty of the architecture, Nikulo could only see the coldness of an occupied city strangled by the cruel hand of a foreign oppressor.
Master Holoron caught Nikulo’s eyes after he looked away from the Temple of Songs, and his old face held a tired sadness and an inner fury at seeing the script scratched on the wall. Nikulo wondered whether the old wizard would be able to keep himself from expressing violence against those of the fanatical Order. But because the hardened warriors were likely as powerful as Master Holoron had described, Nikulo guessed he would hold his tongue.
Commander Drelan led them to a plain-looking building attached to a tall tower that rose high above the inner walls. Nikulo saw a squad of unarmed soldiers without armor marching out of the building, and he guessed that the place was a barracks or the command center of Onair. He was surprised to see the soldiers occupying such a sparse and unassuming base, expecting they’d setup their headquarters in one of the more lavish, expansive buildings farther up the hill. He’d learn later that the Dragons always sought to blend into society in order to prevent their Order from standing out.
They were greeted inside the barracks by an old, wiry man standing behind a desk who wore large, square glasses that magnified his eyes to twice their size as he studied their approach. Even though the man was old, the muscles of his bared arms were hard and sleek.
“How can I help you, Commander?” The man’s voice was high and nasally, like he had a head cold. He glanced at Master Holoron and Nikulo, and a suspicious look crossed his face.
“Secretary Mazgen, I have visitors from Carvina that have come seeking Master Varghul.” Commander Drelan looked nervous at the old man’s hard-eyed response. “They’ve just arrived by ship…”
“Commander Drelan, you will report immediately for reassignment.” The secretary’s cold expression reminded Nikulo of a snake studying its prey. The Commander looked like he’d been struck in the face. But the Commander saluted and marched into the barracks, like he was marching to his death.
The old man narrowed his eyes at them and rapped his ring on the desk. “Do I look like a blind fool to you? That a wizard and his apprentice could so easily walk in here and see Master Varghul? You may be able to bully or trick the soldiers outside to let you in, but you won’t get past me so easily.”
“I can see you are a reasonable man, Secretary Mazgen.” Master Holoron bowed and a wry expression formed on his face. “You are quite famous across the academic world. I enjoyed your treatise of the history of the dragons. One of my favorites, actually.”
The secretary scowled and shook his head in disbelief. “How did you acquire of copy of my work? I was under the assumption that only the Royal Library and our Order’s archives held copies…”
“You should be pleased to discover your work has been distributed far and wide to Ursula, Ostreva, Trinic, Danberk, and of course, Naru, my home city. We historians have a strong desire to share our research and works across the world. Tell me, what are you doing so far away from the capitol?”
“I go where Master Varghul goes. But if you are from Naru, then that would make you—”
“Master Holoron. A pleasure to meet you finally, Historian Mazgen.”
A confused expression came over the old secretary’s face. “But I was under the assumption that you were in the prison of Onair?”
“Yes, I was, until my loyal apprentice, young Nikulo here, released me from the confines of my cell. I’m most grateful to him for saving my life.” Master Holoron issued a bland look of appreciation to Nikulo.
“You expect me to believe that this boy was able to break you out of a cell protected by magical runes?”
“I do, actually. The runes were to prevent me from breaking out, and only the lock was there to keep people on the outside from opening the door. Nothing really to stop a young wizard from casting a fire magic spell and melting the lock. Quite simple, really.”
Secretary Mazgen frowned in suspicion, but his face softened and he nodded in half-belief. “So you’ve escaped from prison to come to Onair and allow yourself to be recaptured and placed in prison again? I don’t understand why you’re here.”
A devious smiled played on the wizard’s mouth. “We both share a love of dragons and dragon lore, do we not? And we are all familiar with Lord Aurellia and his journey through the stars to return to his home world?”
A stunned expression paralyzed the secretary’s body for a moment, then he shook himself and stared hard at Master Holoron. “Where in the name of the gods did you hear about that?”
“Why of course, from my young apprentice Nikulo here. He travelled with young Talis Storm and Mara Lei through the worlds portal to Chandrix, chasing after Aurellia until they finally reached Vellia. Do you want me to continue the story now, or would you prefer me continuing to the part about the dragons of Ghaelstrom, on Aurellia’s home planet, with Master Varghul present?”
Master Holoron displayed a row of brilliant teeth to the secretary in a satisfied smile. The old man rummaged through the papers on his desk in a nervous, habitual movement. He glanced at Nikulo in a surprised, frightened expression and swept out of the room, leaving the wizard to chuckle at his quick departure.
Soon another soldier came and waved them inside, and like the other men, he wore no armor and likely if Nikulo encountered him on the street, he would have never suspected him as anyone special or particularly threatening. What was common with all the soldiers of the barracks was their thin, wiry build, average height, and dull, dead eyes like the dragons of Ghaelstrom that Nikulo had seen on Vellia. Utter lack of eye contact and emotion, these Dragons moved as if nothing mattered and there was nothing of any care or weight burdening their bodies as they glided along.
Inside a clean, well-organized office in the back of the barracks, they were greeted by the cold, inhuman stares of three soldiers all wearing similarly loose, priest-like clothing. Secretary Mazgen stood in attention at the corner of the room, an anxious expression on his weathered face. The man in the middle spoke first, and he sat at a chair in front of a broad desk with a map of the city, and colored markers and small silver figurines were placed in strategic positions across the map.
“Master Holoron, I presume?” The soldier scratched at an itch on his shoulder in a deft, oft-repeated movement. “I heard you wante
d to see me.”
The wizard shifted his stance slightly and studied the man with cautious eyes, unaffected by the stiff tension in the room. “Why have you stayed so long in Onair after the invasion was successful? Certainly you and your men would prefer returning home to their friends and family.”
The soldier gave an irritated click of his tongue. “Dragons have no friends and we leave family behind when we join the Order.” He spread his arms wide in a gesture of inclusion. “This is our home now. This is the Order of the Dragons. All members of the Order live here now.”
“What of the other Dragons in Carvina?”
“You know a great deal about our Order, wizard.” The man scowled in a rare display of emotion. “Perhaps this has something to do with the rune master that betrayed you in Ursula? What was her name…Mistress Cavares, am I correct? Yes, I thought so. Well, I have news for you, those are not true Dragons in Carvina but apostates, traitors to our Order and our legacy, bought off by the Emperor’s gold.”
So these Dragons were the sub-cult that Master Holoron had talked about, thought Nikulo, trying his best not to make eye contact with the soldier.
“So you are Master Varghul, the leader of the Order?” Master Holoron glanced at the map on the desk and Nikulo thought he saw a glimmer of worry on the wizard’s face.
“What interests you on our map, old man?”
“Nothing, really,” said the wizard. “It just strikes me as odd that you would have chosen Onair to call as your home unless there was something of value here. And I see you’ve marked the ancient archives with a figurine of a dragon. You’ve discovered something?”
Nikulo could tell from a twitch in the soldier’s eye that the man was doing his best to contain himself. “You were invited here to tell us your story, not to interrogate me over the map.”
Star Mage (Book 5) Page 16
