“My race was once mighty and”—she gave a toothy grin and ran her claws down the wall—“we were feared by our enemies. Now we are divided and thus weakened. I intend to unite our factions once more and restore our former glory.”
Oganna thought of her father and how he had taken the Hemmed Land’s inhabitants from a loose network of vulnerable people to hope and unity. Vectra’s desires seemed to be on the same, commendable plane. But were her motives?
“No doubt you are curious what my motives are in this matter.” Vectra scratched her side with her claws. “Allow me to assure you that it is not for the glory of conquest, though I do enjoy a good fight! My kind have lived in the darkness for too long, and it has hardened us to the world above and to each other. It is time for the megatraths to follow me into a new era of peace, achieved through conflict.”
The possibility of forming an alliance with Vectra had been at the back of Oganna’s mind ever since the tour of the tomb. With these desert monsters on her father’s side, the Hemmed Land’s southern border would no longer be a concern, and their assistance might prove helpful in Ilfedo’s troubles with the desert north of the Hemmed Land. Had the time come to broach the subject, or should she wait?
A breath of damp air sent a shiver up her spine as she turned to gaze boldly into Vectra’s eyes. “You and I have an opportunity here,” she said. “To create an alliance between our two nations. Together we could change this part of Subterran by spreading civilization. Think of it—an ally on your northern doorstep! What better way to strengthen your position in the eyes of your fellow megatraths? If your rivals make war upon you, we will aid you. If we are attacked, then you will come to our aid.”
“Hmm.” Vectra paced back and forth.
“Vectra, why not? Surely the rival megatraths will hear of how the Warrioresses and I slew Loos. If you ally yourself with us—strengthening the bond of trust between us—they will fear you more than ever.”
No answer.
Oganna smiled. “By showing me the Tomb of the Ancients you have proven that you trust me. Tomorrow my aunts and I must return to our homeland. It is my sincere desire that you will accompany me so that I may return your hospitality and acquaint my people with your kind.”
With a sigh, Vectra looked at her. “Your people will remember my kind with bitterness for, though I did not wish it, one of my subjects invaded your territory and committed murder. His life has been justly extinguished, but his deed will forever haunt us.”
“Then come with me to the Hemmed Land. My father is facing a strange sort of threat on our northern border. Winged men that fight like birds have invaded on occasion and now, it seems, desert vipers are going into our forests to slay people in their sleep. If you were to come and assist him, the people would recognize the goodness in your heart, and you would earn their trust.”
“I would like to earn their trust.” Vectra rumbled in her throat long and low. “Loos’s deeds are a blot that I want to rectify. I favor an alliance with your people.” She puffed out her chest and growled her resolution. “Let us today and now make a pact—between us alone—to stand by each other as friends even if everyone else stands against us. And let us bind ourselves to this friendship with an unbreakable oath.”
Oganna relaxed and nodded. “Agreed.”
“Come with me.” Vectra knelt and invited Oganna to hop on to ride. “The place that I should like to do this is a long run from here. It would be a rough walk for you, but for me it is nothing.”
The creature’s hide was rough, scaly, and uncomfortable. Oganna wasn’t going to complain, but Vectra swiveled around to look at her. “A ride on my back will not be the easiest on your body. Slide up to my neck.”
Oganna complied. Vectra’s neck felt flexible and the scales smoother, and as Vectra started running, Oganna found that the ride was a lot smoother than she’d thought it would be. She held on tightly as they spiraled down a narrow path along the cavern walls. Total darkness soon enveloped them, and only an occasional flash of flame from Vectra’s mouth lighted the way.
Vectra reached the cavern’s floor, slid on her rear legs to break her momentum, and skidded to a halt. “I used to come down here when I was a megling. The darkness hides these depths from the firelights above, and few megtraths have ever ventured down here. It is their loss, for I have found wonders that they have not imagined.”
She tilted her head back, her sides billowing as her lungs sucked in air, then she snapped her head forward and let out a deafening roar. Her bellow resounded through the unexplored depths, daring any to stand in her way. As the last echoes died out, she repeated the roar, eerily bouncing it throughout the chasms, chambers, and tunnels. Satisfied, she walked forward with Oganna still clinging to her neck.
The megatrath spat a stream of fire ahead, revealing a tunnel straight ahead. It had a circular opening, and its floor sloped deeper underground. Large tiles, most of them broken, covered the tunnel floor. A statue had fallen across the floor. Large stone pieces that once formed the image of a human—male or female, Oganna could not tell—lay scattered. The statue’s base stood whole and a pair of stone-carved, sandaled human feet remained atop it, broken off at the ankles.
Vectra lumbered into the tunnel and stepped over the fallen statue.
“What is this place?” Oganna asked.
“Truthfully I do not really know.” The creature walked into the deep darkness, still descending. Oganna could feel the powerful feet thud on the floor. “I really do not know the purpose of many of these ancient constructions. It is a pity. My race lives above all of this—and we know so few of the secrets these places hold. The Tomb of the Ancients we know, for it was a gift to the megatrath race. But beyond that there are depths, depths in the darkest, deepest places. I know that the Ancients constructed this—all of this. Yet why and how is beyond my knowledge.
“I am now taking you to a place of solitude that I discovered as a megling. I believe it also was constructed by the Ancient Ones—and one of their spirits still resides there. He is a wise guiding spirit of great power, as you will soon discern. If we do not anger him, he will bear witness to our oath of alliance and ensure that the oath is kept.”
“So this spirit—is he someone you can see?” The megatrath barrelled forward. As the dark tunnel rushed past, Oganna cringed. She could only hope Vectra wouldn’t blindly knock into a wall. She forced a smile, hoping it would influence her tone. She doubted very much this spirit could be real. “Vectra, have you ever touched this spirit? Like, is he able to physically manifest himself?”
The creature gasped. “Never! Once I tried to approach his form, but I will never do so again. He condemned my action, and my body suddenly felt as though it were boiling in lava. Fortunately I came to my senses and, in pardon, he permitted me to return from time to time to see his magnificence and hear his counsel.”
Vectra rocked to a stop. Oganna felt the creature’s body quiver.
A light shone upon them from high above. Its blinding radiance forced her to shield her face with her hand. She squinted between her fingers at a cream-colored orb attached to the ceiling by a twisted iron elbow.
A voice spoke out, a confident male voice that filled the room. “Megatrath, welcome.” She looked about at the brightly lit walls constructed of rectangular blocks of stone. Vectra kept her gaze to the floor, but Oganna peered into the corners, trying to discern the voice’s origin.
“What is your name megatrath?”
“It is I, Vectra. And I bring a friend.”
Oganna still could see nothing to indicate where the speaker came from. She glanced up at the orb. Was it possible that the speaker could see through that illumination device?
“I assume, Vectra, that you desire entry into the chamber for counsel.”
Vectra bowed her head toward the far wall. “This human wishes to ally herself with me.”
A long silence, then the light extinguished. Darkness flooded back into the chamber, and Oganna straine
d to make her eyes adjust. Another light blazed from overhead, shining in a narrow beam upon Oganna’s head. The sudden brightness stung her eyes.
“Ah, yes. I had not noticed,” the voice said in a hushed tone. “She is human.”
“She is also my friend,” Vectra replied.
Oganna heard stones grating. The light shifted toward the far wall, shining upon a large square opening. Vectra plodded through the entrance a couple dozen feet and halted. The stones grated behind them, and the entry resealed itself behind them, leaving them in pitch-blackness.
“Human, step forward.”
Oganna frowned. To what or to whom did the voice belong? Vectra’s head lowered her to the floor. Her shoes cracked on what sounded like tile, and she groped forward in the darkness in the direction of the voice. “Why?”
She heard Vectra snort. The megatrath’s voice hissed around her. “Do not anger the spirit!”
“I want to see what you look like, spirit. I want to see you for what you really are. Long ago you inflicted unnecessary pain on this megatrath.” She dropped one hand to her side and curled her fingers around Avenger’s crystalline hilt.
“Impudence!” the man shouted. The chamber reverberated with the sound. “Submit to my will, human. Do not anger me.” Through the veiling blackness the ghostly image of a giant man strode toward her. In his hand he held a wicked-looking sword of enormous size, and a small helm crowned his head.
She drew Avenger from its sheath. Its crystal blade turned crimson, its power clothed her in silver, and she stood as an angel without fear. The light of her sword and garment lit the area. She stood in a room constructed of stone. The light revealed a small window set in the back wall. She glanced back at Vectra. The creature cowered on the floor, every muscle trembling. No doubt remembering the pain this “spirit” had inflicted on her as a megling.
The man pointed his gloved hand at Oganna. Her joints ached, and then her skin warmed as if with fever. But she set her face toward the small window. If the imposter had sequestered himself in there—
With a silent command, she doused the light of her sword and that of her clothing. She concealed herself in the shadows and ran along the wall, dragging her finger lightly over the stones until she found a deep notch. Carefully she spidered her fingers along the notch, tracing the rectangular outline. So this was a small door. Tensing her arm, she pushed against the stone barrier. It swung inward without so much as a squeak, and she slipped inside.
To her right curved a long narrow room, dimly lighted by glowing ceiling panels only five feet above her head. She calmed her beating heart and walked around the curve. There, she stepped onto a grid of muted, yellow lights, warm under her feet.
A grid of multi-colored buttons, along with a few levers, glowed on panels set in the walls. Green and blue strings stretched from the ceiling to the floor along the back wall. Each string pulsated light, and a steady hum filled the room. A sheet three feet wide and two feet high leaned against one of the lighted panels. An image of Vectra still cowering in the darkened chamber appeared on its face.
A bearded man stood on a white floor panel in front of the image display. He held the sword she had seen earlier in the ghostly image. But now both he and the sword were proportionally smaller. In fact, he stood a bit shorter than her father. The man scowled at the screen and muttered, “That little whelp. Where’d she go?”
Willing her sword to glow again, Oganna let it clothe her in the silver dress. The man spun and took a step back, eying her up and down.
“Despicable.” She let her eyes bore into his. “It is hard for me to accept that some people are as cruel as you. How dare you torture a megatrath just to maintain this facade. You are no spirit!”
“What—you found your way in here?”
“You are coming with me, sir.” She raised Avenger and frowned. “I want you to tell these creatures that you are mere flesh and blood! And I want you to repent of this evil you have done. Deceiving these creatures with this ancient technology—that is what this is, is it not? Some advanced machinery that you have learned to manipulate?”
“I do not have to answer your questions, child.” He flipped his sword in his hand and scraped its tip on the floor. “Treat me with respect, or I will soon show you that tricks are not my only talent.” With a swift motion he brought his sword toward her throat. She ducked under it and shoved his blade aside with the Avenger.
A smile curled his lips. His shoulder-length hair was gray, and his face was wrinkled, but he fought with great strength. Each time his sword smote hers she was forced to grip her hilt with both hands. He swung his sword in a V motion, always facing her, and steadily drove her back.
Beads of sweat moistened her forehead. She lost ground and struggled to keep her tired feet from slipping on the smooth panels. The recent journey through the desert and her encounter with Loos had drained her of energy. Her knees buckled, and she wavered in her defense.
“I am a spirit. You cannot win against a spirit.” He held his sword in one hand and reached behind his back.
Too late, she saw him slide out a second sword. He swung it like a club and smote her on the head. Stars danced through her vision and, as she fell, she heard him laugh.
Bright green grass waved all around. Puffy white clouds dotted the blue sky overhead, and a gentle breeze moved the clean, warm air across Oganna’s face. She blinked and raised her hand to her face. Yes, she had a welt where the pretender had hit her.
She shook her head. What had happened? Where was she? The field she was lying in extended as far as her eyes could see on all sides. A shadow fell upon her from behind. She turned.
“Hello.” A wrinkled man with a long white beard that nearly reached the ground sidled in front of her and offered a hand. He was barefooted, and his body was wrapped with a snow-white toga, while on his head he wore an equally white turban. “Are you lost, child?”
Without answering, she accepted his hand and stood up. In her other hand the sword Avenger burned furiously, reflecting its red hues against her silver garment.
The elder who helped her up was short. His turban didn’t even reach her shoulder. His eyes were bright blue and his ears were at least three times as large as hers.
He eyed her weapon and vestments. “What is your name?”
Ignoring his question, she responded, “Where am I? What has happened?” She squinted her eyes, looking skyward, and recalled the duel with the stranger.
The little man stroked his beard, then looked up at her. “Thoughts—your mind is full of them.” He reached up with his hand and touched her forehead.
As he withdrew his hand, a web of light pulled from her forehead. Instinct told her to stop him, but another conflicting sense restrained her. If he had wanted to harm her, he could have done so while she was lying in the field.
For a moment the man held the web of light in his hand and stared at it as it glowed. Then he closed his fingers over his palm, stretched out his arm, shook his hand a few times, and threw the webbing into the wind. As soon as it left his hand, it burst into fine dust and settled on the ground. There an image formed—an image of pure light—of Oganna’s recent duel. It replayed her struggle, then destabilized and disappeared.
The old man looked at Oganna. His eyes looked playful. “That is how you came here.”
“Where am I?”
Once more he touched her forehead. “Does that feel better?”
She reached up to feel for her welt, but it was gone. “Thank you.”
“It is not worth mentioning, my dear. Now, tell me, this man you were fighting, do you know him?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“Good, then I will send you back so that you can finish your fight.” He walked off at a brisk pace and called for her to follow.
Within half an hour they topped a rise and stared down a hill at a great lake rimmed by a vast city. “My home,” said the man, “and your pathway back to Osira.”
“Osira? Wh
at is Osira?”
The old man swallowed hard. “My mistake! I meant to say it is your pathway back to Subterran.”
Her brow furrowed. “I am not on Subterran? Are you trying to say … what, that I am on another world?”
He laughed and pointed at the ground behind her. “You didn’t notice that you have two shadows?” When she looked behind, she saw he was right. He told her to look at the sky again. “Does your world have two suns?”
She looked up and couldn’t help gaping in astonishment. “I am on another world.”
“Yes, you are on mine.” He waved a hand toward the city and beamed with pride. “We have perfected our society. Unlike your world, we do not need instruments of war. We rest in the Creator’s peace. But come! I mustn’t reveal all mysteries to you, for then I would be at fault for interfering in your future.”
“But how do you know of my world?”
“We are familiar with it—but little more than that.” He halted and faced her. “Let me give you a word of advice.”
“Certainly.” She shook her head. The sudden transference to this place felt like a dream, dizzying.
“When you get back to your fight, don’t rely as much on your physical strength.” His eyes roved from the sword to her silver garb. “There is a lot of strength in you. Yes—much potential! I see that you can use the power of dragon blood, and you are not an amateur at it.” Leaning closer, he winked. “I would say you must be part dragon.”
She started in surprise, and he laughed. “When you return to your fight, use your dragon side—your powerful side—the side that grants you the use of potent energies unique to your blood.”
They had not reached his city before he stopped, stooped, and pressed his hand on something in the ground. Then he stood up and waited as an exquisitely carved gazebo rose before them. “I regret not having the time to show you more,” he said. “I have thoroughly enjoyed meeting you.”
Offspring (The Sword of the Dragon) Page 24
