The creature squinted and stretched out its neck, then wrapped itself over her shoulders. “Psst! If only I could remember what happened to me after the spell took hold. Then I might know. After all, if it is your enemy that did this, then I was likely involved.”
“Perhaps.” Oganna left the platform, returning into the citadel. “Perhaps Vectra can help us find out what it is.”
She descended into the citadel’s main chamber and described as best she could what she’d seen from the platform. Vectra scratched her head. “Mm, you say it was burning?”
“It appeared to be.”
“It would take us too long to go there if you walk. I will carry you.” Vectra hunkered to the floor and waited for Oganna to get on her neck.
After gathering her guards on the ramp, Vectra raced north along the highway until she passed out of the city. The megatrath shook the rain out of her face, Oganna shielding her own face. Her clothes clung to her body.
They ignored the buildings smoking around them and came within sight of the smoking, black hill. Machines of war littered the hills for as far as Oganna could see. Along with the hand weapons and shields stood several trebuchets of extraordinary size and equally large catapults standing like sentinels in the wake of a battle.
The rain slackened, and the smoke rose more thickly from the heap. Oganna turned up her nose as they approached. The stench of burning flesh overpowered her senses. Her horror intensified when Vectra began to tremble and growled a stream of curses. “Oganna, look. It is the giants. We have found them.” The dark heap of tangled bodies of the giants stretched for a long distance. Their arms and legs stuck out from the pile, and fire licked at their corpses. Women and children, warriors young and old, lay together in death, their faces frozen in fear.
Oganna gritted her teeth, dismounted, and picked a child’s doll out of the mud. Here lay the inhabitants of Netroth, slain without consideration of age, gender, or social standing. This was a massacre. She looked at the ground around the heap. Rage boiled in her heart, and she clenched her fists, drew out Avenger, and sent a wave of energy from her hand to the sky. “Before I leave this land, I swear that justice will be carried out upon whoever did this.” She turned to the milling megatraths. “The rain has all but quenched the flames. Burn this heap before the rotting flesh finishes poisoning the ground.”
The creatures hesitated as they waited for Vectra to confirm the order.
Vectra spun upon them and drove them toward the heap. “You heard her. Burn it!”
The megatraths drew in deep breaths and poured steady streams of fire on the bodies. The smoldering wood ignited, the flames wrapped around the heap, and before long the bloated funeral pyre roared heavenward.
21
THE TOLLING BELL
upon returning to the citadel in Netroth, Oganna saw uncertainty in the megatraths’ eyes as their gazes shifted back and forth. She understood how they felt, for she felt it too—fear of an unknown enemy that had brutally wiped out an entire city. What kind of enemy were they dealing with? They must have been strong in order to besiege and take a city as great as this one.
Vectra shivered in her hide and forced a smile at her companions. “Don’t look so depressed, my brothers and sisters. We are safe. We have food to last several more days.” She threw wood into the fireplace and shot a lazy flame into the midst. “And we have heat.” The others gathered around, and soon the warmth from so many bodies filled the massive room, driving away the dampness.
First one megatrath and then another brought more wood to the fire until it roared. They heaped the excess wood to the side and settled down for a nap while Oganna and Vectra stayed alert. They did not want to be caught unprepared if the enemy showed himself.
Suddenly the citadel doors burst open, and a blast of wet air surged into the citadel. Oganna and the megatraths shot to their feet. She half-expected to face an army of foes. Instead a lone giant stumbled inside. He was dressed in elaborate armor, and a tattered yellow cape fell from his broad shoulders. He leaned on a sword held in his right hand. His eyes blazed with hatred and blood ran from his many wounds. On his head rested a silver crown with a large diamond set in its face.
His eyes darted about. Pain twisted his expression. He staggered toward them and lowered his head, spreading his legs wide and holding his sword with both hands. “Wh-what? How did you come to be here? I know none of your faces, nor am I familiar with your race. If you follow the wizard, then stand ready, because you will fall by my sword!”
Vectra growled and the other megatraths pressed closer to the giant.
“I have given all of you fair warning. Now speak!” His eyes rolled back into his head, and he breathed deeply before shaking his head and refocusing his gaze.
Gazing up at the imposing figure, Oganna stepped forward and laid her sword on the floor. “If you are not here to harm us, then we intend you none.” She edged closer.
In a deft motion he grasped her by the throat. Vectra rushed forward, clamped her claws on the man’s arm, and forced him to release his hold. His head drooped, his eyes rolled back in their sockets, and he collapsed.
Oganna bent over, grabbed her throat, and gagged. “Whew! Thanks, Vectra, he has a fist of iron.”
They laid the giant on the floor by the fire, and Oganna unbundled the tent that she had brought along. She glanced at the citadel doors. They remained open after the giant’s unexpected arrival. “I would close those doors if I were you,” she said to a nearby megatrath.
The creature lumbered to the entrance, closed them, and leaned against them.
As Oganna looked at the giant, she gasped. “What in Subterran happened to this man? It looks as though someone sliced him all over with razor blades!” Dried blood caked the man’s body, and fresh blood ran from numerous deep gashes. In several places his bones lay exposed.
“This man must be someone of great importance,” Vectra said as she helped Oganna set up the tent and slide the giant inside. Oganna had intended to set up the tent for her own privacy, but giving it to him—it felt right. “Look at his crown. That is no mere decoration. It is possible that the throne we found is his.”
Oganna slipped the weighty ornament off his head and set it aside. “I must tend to his wounds. Otherwise, he will die.”
“Take care, Princess. This giant could be the very villain we have come to find.”
“No. I don’t think so. Our enemy would not have come alone to this place if he had won the battle. However, if I can heal this man, then he should be able to tell us what is going on around here.”
The megatrath chortled. “And what if he doesn’t know? What if we are chasing a ghost, and there is no villain to be found?”
“Then we have come here for naught, and the answer to the mystery of the winged men and viper attacks lies elsewhere. But I do not believe this devastation is coincidence; rather, I think that we have stumbled upon the place my father is seeking. All that remains is to find and deal with the sorcerer.”
“An admirable analogy, Oganna, and I hope you are right. I too would like to deal with the perpetrator. I’d like to give him a piece of my mind, a sniff of my vapor, a scalding by fire, and I’d like to tear him limb from limb with my claws.”
As the megatrath spoke, Oganna set to work carefully cleaning and sewing the unconscious giant’s wounds. “Vectra, would you send out some of your guards in search of water? There must be wells in this city and barrels that they can use to bring the water back here. I will need lots of it.” As her friend moved away, Oganna said, “And tell them that any clean cloth they can find will be greatly appreciated.”
“Hmm, will there be anything else?” Vectra raised her eyes in mock sarcasm. “Perhaps you want them to find food as well?”
“That would be nice. Thank you, Vectra.” She laughed and drew the needle through the giant’s skin, pulling together his sliced skin.
Over the next couple hours, Vectra sent search parties into Netroth, and they brought
back all that Oganna had required and more. They gathered more wood for the fireplace, too. Soon the citadel felt nice and toasty. It had been a long day for the megatraths. As the room heated, the flames glistened off their hides and they fell contentedly asleep.
Oganna stayed awake, tending to the giant’s wounds. Several cuts proved too deep and ragged for her to sew together. These she laid her hands on and probed with her mind to find that source of extraordinary strength and power within her blood. There! She pulled with her mind, feeding off the strength and healing with the powers therein. Energy surged through her and blossomed, its aura enveloped her, and the giant’s deep wounds healed. The exposed flesh turned pink, and the skin closed over it.
Exhausted by her labors, she sat back. “Now, Mr. Giant, your body must heal the remainder on its own.” She rose and left the tent. Within the shadow of Vectra’s bulk she unrolled her bedding. The firelight flickered cheerily as she lay down.
The megatrath stuck her snout in Oganna’s face. “You don’t trust him, do you?”
The viper slid from around Oganna’s neck and onto the blanket. “Psst! What do you take Mistress for, a fool? She won’t trust unless she knows she can.” The creature slipped out its tongue in a derogatory gesture. “Psst! You may have a large brain, megatrath, but sometimes I wonder if you know how to use it properly.”
“True, I do not trust easily.” Oganna folded her hands behind her head. “I don’t trust the giant because I do not know him.” She chuckled as she continued. “Would you trust him if you were my size?”
The megatrath grunted, settled her head to the floor, and fell asleep, breathing rhythmically. Oganna lay down as well, while the serpent remained on top of her blanket. She stared up at the citadel’s stone walls. The flames in the fireplace threw a flickering light over the interior. These sturdy walls were a comfort to her, standing watch as a guardian, never resting—needing none.
In her mind’s eye she saw night close in over the city of Netroth. It was full of haunting sounds that echoed down the abandoned streets and traversed the empty buildings. She saw a knife that had never finished cutting a loaf of bread, and a child’s doll neglected and alone. The entire city dressed in black, mourning its children, mothers, and fathers. In its sorrow a city bell tolled eerily in the darkness.
She opened her eyes, stunned. The bell was tolling! On its own? She doubted it. She glanced at the doors to the ramp. Two megatraths, sleeping soundly, were resting against them. If someone tried to sneak in they would be unable to. Vectra jerked up her head, then curled tighter around Oganna. “Don’t worry, Princess. Nothing will happen to you on my watch.”
The bell ceased tolling. A restless megatrath stirred, rose, and stoked the fire before curling up again. Oganna glanced up at Vectra. The bell tolled again. Had the giants’ enemy returned? She looked again at the citadel. They were safe within these walls … she hoped.
In the middle of the night she still could not calm herself. She felt as if a pair of eyes was spying on her and her alone. She glanced at the citadel doors and the door to the giant’s throne-room. No one in sight, and she breathed a sigh of relief. She turned toward the fireplace, and a man’s hand clamped over her mouth.
“Shhh, dragon child. It is only I.” Specter released his hold on her mouth and stood before her, shimmering in and out of sight. “It took me a long while to find you. You are becoming quite skilled at protecting yourself.” He smiled.
“What are you doing here?” she whispered.
“I am looking out for you, little one. And a quest of my own is intertwined with my duty to the dragon.” He stepped close to the fire and stretched his hand toward the blaze.
Oganna gazed upon the warrior. How in Subterran he had managed to slip in unnoticed was beyond her. But he was here now, and her heart had slowed its wild pounding. Somehow, even though creatures as large as dragons surrounded her, this invisible guardian allayed her fears more than they. “What do you mean by a quest of your own?”
He stared into the flames and for a time said nothing. Then he closed his eyes. “The wizard who placed your father under a spell is familiar to me. I have waited for so long to meet him again. And now your path and his have crossed. If they cross again, I will be ready.”
Turning to her, Specter looked at her with bright eyes and a grim expression. “I need to ask that, if you come across him, you leave him to me. Nothing would please me more than to end his evil.”
“But”—she frowned—“you don’t have any powers. Do you? If he serves the powers of evil, then I should face him, not you.”
“Please,” he whispered, “I will ask nothing else of you. Only this one thing do I require. Leave the wizard Auron to me.”
Something about his manner made her cringe. “You mean to kill him, don’t you?”
Specter turned back to the fire.
“If you do that, you will die.” Oganna shook her head. “No, I’m sorry, but I cannot let you do that.”
“What makes you so sure that I would die in combat with him? Did I not protect your mother and your aunts all the days of their youth? I stood with them when they faced a witch and a wizard.” He gazed over his shoulder, meeting her eyes. “You are young, Oganna. Trust that I know what is best. For I would do nothing to harm you.”
“But you wouldn’t care if you are harmed in the process.” She frowned as the viper blinked its eyes, then glanced at Specter and popped them open. Its mouth opened in a little scream. Oganna clamped her fingers over its mouth and put a finger to her lips. “Silence, Neneila! He is with us. Now go back to sleep.”
The viper took another look at the cloaked warrior with the scythe. It slithered under the blanket.
“You don’t care if you live or die. Do you?” Oganna burned her gaze into the silent guardian. “But I do.”
At last he dropped to one knee and looked down at her with a smile. “I have lived two lifetimes, child. I have seen the ancient fall and this generation rise. Long ago a great sin was committed against a pupil of mine, and today you live in a darkening world that is a direct result of that event.”
He waved his hand at the sleeping megatraths, the citadel, and the doors. “These creatures would not be here, and this land would not have fallen if I had long ago seen the coming evil. Everything is a direct result of what he did a day long, long before you, your father, or even his father were born. Auron knows this, and I must bring him to justice!” He clenched his fist and vanished.
“Specter?” She called his name softly over and over again, but he did not respond. And when she spread her other senses into the surrounding room she found nothing except megatraths and Neneila. With a resigned sigh, she lay down.
22
WRATH OF THE MEGATRATH
The heat from the fireplace felt good on Oganna’s back as she opened the tent flap and peered inside. The giant, wrapped in cloth bandages from head to toe, stirred and groaned. His eyes blinked open, and he raised himself on his elbows before calling out in a weak voice, “Hello? Is anyone here?”
She stepped into the tent, gave him a warm smile, and rested a hand on his shoulder. “Easy there, you are still very weak. You’ve been out for two days, and your wounds are still healing.”
He gazed around the tent. She had neatly stacked his crown, cape, and boots in one corner. His sword lay next to him. “Where am I?”
“You are in my tent.” She knelt beside him and dipped a cloth into a nearby bucket of water. “Lean forward please.”
The giant glanced at her face. Then he bent forward. She wiped the cold cloth over his forehead and felt his temperature with her hand. “You are healing better than I expected.”
The giant’s tense arms relaxed. He stretched his shoulders and looked at her with eyes as soft as a bed of Night Grass on a cool evening. Even sitting up, he was a little taller than Oganna. He had shoulder-length, brown hair, a handsome face, and muscles like wrought iron. “Well, young lady. It appears to me that you have saved my li
fe. And I don’t even know your name.”
She felt her cheeks flush and smiled. “I am Oganna—Princess Oganna of the Hemmed Land.”
“Strange. I have never heard of such a place. But it is my pleasure to meet you, Princess. Now would you mind telling me where I am?”
Wondering if his injuries had affected his memory, Oganna returned his gaze. “You are in Netroth. Don’t you remember?”
“But I was entering—” He closed his eyes and bit his lip, holding his head in his hands. “The day before last I came into the city. I was entering the doors to Ar’lenon when—”
“Ar’lenon?” She hesitated. What was Ar’lenon? But of course he must have meant the fortress. “Is that what you call this citadel? Ar’lenon?”
“We are in the citadel?”
“Yes.”
A relieved smile curled his lips, and he clenched his fist. “Then Ar’lenon does still stand … despite everything, it still stands.” He sighed. “Forgive me, I have not answered your question. The answer is yes, I am referring to this citadel.”
“It is a remarkable structure. Did your people build it?”
He skirted her question. “What does it matter now? They are—gone.”
She wrung the cloth, returned it to the bucket, then stood. “I have told you my name. Will you tell me yours?”
“You may call me Gabel.”
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Gabel.” She curtsied. “I couldn’t help noticing that you wore a crown, and your cape is sewn from a rather rich material. Are you the lord of this land?”
“Yes, I am—I was. But now I am nothing. The land has been destroyed, and no one remains alive. I—” His lips quivered. “I don’t have anyone left.” She could tell that he was struggling with memories she could not share, that he wanted to appear strong. The man inside lost the battle, and he wept.
She reached out and embraced his neck. “It’s all right,” she whispered. “You are among friends now and thus you are safe. Do not be ashamed to cry.”
Offspring (The Sword of the Dragon) Page 32
