Exiles From The Sacred Land (Book 2)

by Mark Tyson

  Melias nodded.

  “Then what you are saying is that he could die while taking the trial?” Bren repeated.

  “Perhaps. Of course, since he is worthy of the Silver Drake’s choosing, he will live if he fulfills his duty and finds her as she wishes. If he has her by his side, his survival rate increases considerably. She will protect him as only she can.”

  Bren grimaced. “What if the Silver Drake cannot be found?”

  Morgoran grinned. “My dear broodlord, the Silver Drake is never wrong. If she chose Dorenn to find her, he will find her.”

  Dorenn broke out in a cold sweat. He looked at the back of Tatrice’s head and hoped she was not disturbed by his nervous squirming. What did they mean about him becoming aggressive? He felt the same as he always had. I better think about how to find the Silver Drake, he thought.

  “Morgoran, something is moving through the trees below,” Dorenn heard Melias say. “At first I thought it was just the trees swaying in the breeze, but now I can see figures.” Dorenn sat up to watch Morgoran’s reaction.

  Morgoran squinted in the low light; the patchy snow semi-illuminated the darkness of the clearings. “I don’t see anything.”

  Bren drew his dragon claw. “There, in the trees. I see it too.”

  Morgoran put his hand over his pipe and whispered. A wisp of smoke from the bowl snaked out into his hand. He cupped it and blew the smoke out toward the trees, and it traveled extremely quickly into the darkness. “Ignite,” he said. A burst of intense light flashed over the trees, and hundreds of black-winged creatures scattered in all directions, screeching.

  “Dramyds! They have followed us. Quickly, strike the camp. I will blind them and keep them away. Go now!” He stopped and put his hand on Melias’ arm. “Now would be a good time, old friend.”

  Melias nodded before turning to face Bren, who bowed his head momentarily out of respect.

  Dorenn jumped away from Tatrice as Melias and Bren rushed around the camp, gathering up the leather backpacks. “What is happening? What’s down there?” He didn’t want them to think he had been eavesdropping.

  “Dramyds in the forest. Get your gear and head up the mountain.” Tatrice started rounding up her things. Dorenn pulled Dranmalin from its scabbard. Bren stayed Dorenn’s arm. “We can’t fight them; there are too many. Get up the side of the mountain to the sentinels.”

  Dorenn sheathed Dranmalin and gathered up his backpack. Frantically he followed Bren and Tatrice as they stumbled up the rocky outcropping. He could hear the horses screaming, and he hoped they had broken loose and run away. The side of the mountain brightened with intermittent flashes of light, reminding him of a lightning storm. He stopped and looked back after he heard something explode. He briefly saw the image of Morgoran with his arms outstretched to the sky. The forest trees below were bursting in giant fiery splinters, impelling Dramyds to the frozen ground.

  Dorenn turned back to the mountain ahead and climbed with frenzied speed. His heart skipped a beat when he heard the now familiar beating of leathery wings above him. Dorenn froze as a Drasmyd Duil landed directly in his path, its teeth exposed in a sinister grin. It lurched for him, and he fell backward to the ground, fumbling for Dranmalin. The Drasmyd Duil reached for him with its terrible claws, and Dorenn braced for the worse, but it never came; he opened his eyes to the horrific sight of the Drasmyd Duil’s head immersed in a golden light, distorting as the rest of the now headless creature’s body fell to its knees. Vesperin stood behind it with its head between his hands, squeezing, his teeth gnashed in a determined concentration. Dorenn had never seen such hatred from his friend before. The black flesh of the Drasmyd Duil’s head peeled away to reveal its twisted skull. Vesperin let the severed skull fall to the ground, smoldering.

  “Come on, Dorenn, run!” he insisted.

  Dorenn gathered himself up and ran as fast as he could up the steep incline. He heard more explosions and squealing screams behind and below him, but he dared not look back. He only hoped the squeals were coming from Dramyds and Drasmyd Duil and not from his friends. He stumbled on loose rock and went down on all fours. His backpack broke loose and tumbled behind him. Clawing desperately at the shifting terrain, Dorenn slid down the side of the incline. The sound of beating wings inspired him to claw at the ground faster. Something grabbed the hood of his cloak and pulled him back to sure footing. Dorenn’s heart pounded. He readied himself for a fight, but instead, he stood stunned, looking into the blood-red eyes of Melias. The monk hovered above the ground, two leathery wings outstretched behind him, keeping him aloft. With each flash of Morgoran’s light spell, Melias’ features changed. He began to look like a red Drasmyd Duil. Dorenn saw red-scaled claws in place of Melias’ hands, and he shrank back from him, not comprehending what he was seeing. Melias reached out with his red claws and took Dorenn by his arms. He looked for Tatrice, who was now in the company of Vesperin, heading up the mountain. Dorenn tried to force the claws away in vain. With a powerful lurch, Dorenn felt himself being lifted upward into the night air.

  Chapter 4: Basillain

  Lady Shey looked down the muddy, filth-laden street to a shabby inn located a few long paces away. “I will confirm that the Eagle Eye, and this city for that matter, was in much better shape the day Gondrial and I made our pact.”

  Lady Shey’s short companion sloshed through the mud beside her. “I assume you have this sort of pact in all the kingdoms?”

  “Well, yes actually; we decided long ago we would never lose each other.”

  Shila stopped in her tracks. “Oh, I get it. You two were—”

  “Don’t say it or I swear I will send you straight back home.”

  Shila grinned. “Here we are. The Eagle’s Eye Inn.”

  “That’s Eagle Eye, dear,” Lady Shey corrected.

  “That’s what I said.”

  “You said Eagle’s Eye.”

  “Whatever you say, dear lady, let’s just get a room and get some sleep. I am exhausted. I am not often this far away from home.”

  “We might have made it by midday as planned had I not been so slow.”

  “Don’t fret. You will regain all of your strength back soon enough. There are still a couple of hours of daylight left.”

  Lady Shey pushed open the double doors to the common room of the inn and waited for Shila to pass through them before entering. The room was only fairly kept. Dirty dishes still sat upon unclean tables. A lone servant waited tables and dodged wandering hands deftly. The room reeked of sweat, old food, and ale. At the rear, a long desk, with a pudgy, angry-looking man behind it, lined the wall beside a set of stairs that led to the rooms. The patrons didn’t seem to notice Lady Shey or Shila as they made their way back to the desk. Most were either drunk or simply did not care.

  “Welcome to the Eagle’s Eye. Rooms for you both?”

  Shila gave Lady Shey a smirk when the man said Eagle’s Eye. Lady Shey grinned back.

  “Mistress?” The man seemed anxious.

  “Yes, but only one room. We will make do.”

  “Aye, mistress, I will give you my best room. It just came open.”

  “Very well, Inn Keep. Might I ask if a tall gentleman with dark hair, dark facial hair, and blue eyes is staying here? He would also be wearing trousers and a white shirt.”

  “No, mistress. I can’t say that I have seen anyone of that description here. You have to know I see many people come, though, and it’s hard to keep track.”

  “I am sure you would not miss this fellow, my good man. He is somewhat difficult to ignore.”

  “I will keep an eye out for him. Here is your key. Go up the stairs and all the way back. Your room will be the last left door.”

  Lady Shey and Shila followed the inn keeper’s directions and entered their room. A foul odor immediately offended Lady Shey’s nostrils.

  “Ugh, what is that smell?” Shila commented.

  “It looks as if you and I have a bit of cleaning to do before bed.”

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nbsp; “I will unpack the soap. You see if you can find some water.”

  Lady Shey nodded and took a sizable decanter from a large bowl sitting on a nearby chest of drawers. “I will be back shortly.”

  “Hold on, I will go with you. No one should venture out to the water cistern alone so close to dark.”

  “Inn Keep, an ale here.” Gondrial pointed to the rough wooden table before him. A few moments later, a portly young girl with a nice smile and blonde ponytails put a tankard before him. He took a long pull of the dark ale before he realized the girl had not moved away, her gaze questioning.

  “What? Run a tab,” Gondrial commanded.

  “No sir, no tabs for strangers. Coin or the street.” Her nice smile was curiously absent now.

  He produced a coin. “All right, all right, here you are. There is no need to get testy.”

  The portly girl took the coin without as much as a thank you.

  “You’re welcome! And yes, I will have another, thank you,” Gondrial called after her.

  Ianthill entered the common room and made his way to Gondrial’s table. “What have you found out?” he said as he pulled up a chair and sat down.

  “That the locals have little to no manners.”

  Ianthill was not amused.

  “I just got here; I haven’t gotten around to asking yet.”

  “But you managed an ale, I see.”

  “Oh, I see what you’re getting at.” He raised his hand up. “Young miss, ale for my thirsty friend here.” He pointed to Ianthill. “Don’t worry, he has plenty of coin.”

  “Well, not exactly what I had in mind, but I suppose one mug of ale couldn’t hurt.”

  “Where did Enowene go?”

  The bar maid put an ale in front of Ianthill, and he flicked her a coin. “She went down toward the Eagle Eye to see if Shey might have arrived.”

  “I just checked there about midday,” Gondrial said before taking another pull of ale.

  “That was several hours ago.”

  “So it was.” He took another drink. “It’s a long shot that Shey will be at the inn, but it’s worth trying. As resourceful as she is, we may still need to rescue her from somewhere. How long are we planning on waiting?”

  “I would think if she was captured and held, she would have escaped by now. It has been a while now since we discovered the imposter. We will not wait more than a couple of days before we enlist the help of the dragons to find her. They will take some convincing to help us, so it is preferable that Lady Shey turns up on her own.” Ianthill chuckled. “In the centuries I have known her, I have never seen anyone keep her captive longer than a few days. I remember when she was a little girl, crafty little thing, always slipping away.”

  “When we do find her, we will have to pick this inn as the new meeting place for Basillain. It is much nicer than that other rat’s nest.”

  Lady Shey filled the decanter with water from the cistern and glanced in Shila’s direction when her eyes came upon a familiar blue dress with white trim. “Enowene!” she called out. “Enowene, over here.” Enowene beamed as Lady Shey bolted across the street to embrace her. Shila was left holding the abandoned decanter.

  “Shey, I am so glad you are all right. You will have to tell me everything that happened.” Enowene grabbed ahold of Lady Shey hard by the arms; a rush of cool air blew over Lady Shey’s shoulders.

  “It is I, Enowene. What are you doing?”

  Enowene’s lips curled into a grin. “I had to be sure.” Lady Shey’s expression became blank. “I will explain it all to you as soon as I am able. For now, we must alert Ianthill and Gondrial that I have found you.”

  Lady Shey gestured to the waiting Shila. “This is Shila of the dwarven mountain realms.”

  Enowene’s face tightened. “So I see. I thought dwarves did not care to leave their mountain homes.”

  “Enowene, Shila has been very kind to me.”

  “I meant no offense. It was only a simple observation.”

  Shila managed a smile. “Don’t fret, my lady, I will answer the elf’s question. As a rule, dwarves do not leave the Jagged Mountains. I am an exception since remaining home would mean I would be expected to marry soon.”

  “You do not wish to marry?”

  “Enowene!”

  “A simple question, Shey, where is the harm in that?”

  “No, Shey, I will answer. I would think it would be obvious that I do not wish to marry, lady elf, since I stand here before you. In a manner of speaking, dwarven women are expected to be hidden away, tending to their husband’s every need. I have always been an independent sort, defiant of convention. I hope that satisfies your curiosity, for I do not need to explain myself to you. Be aware, I answer you out of courtesy.”

  Enowene’s eyebrow shot up, and Lady Shey took the opportunity to change the subject. “Where is Gondrial?”

  “I left him and Ianthill near the inn and tavern just around the corner.”

  “You left them where?” Lady Shey said with alarm.

  Enowene put her hand over her mouth. “What was I thinking? We had better hurry.” She pulled up her skirts to enable her to move freely and quickly.

  Shila looked confused. “What is the matter?”

  ”Enowene left our friends by a tavern.”

  Shila shrugged, still confused.

  “By themselves! Men!”

  “Oh.” Shila pushed Lady Shey ahead of her and after Enowene. “Go now.”

  “How long ago did you leave them, Enowene?” Lady Shey asked.

  “Just long enough, I am afraid.” Enowene rounded the corner and made a dash for the inn. She swung the common room door open with Lady Shey and Shila on her heels. Alone in the middle of the room, Ianthill was downing a tankard with liquid spilling down the sides of his mouth. Gondrial wandered up to the door, completely missing Enowene and running directly into Lady Shey. Wild comprehension appeared on his face as he recognized her.

  “Look, Ianthill, I found her,” he proclaimed.

  “Good work, Gondrial. I knew I could count on you.”

  “Hem hem.” Enowene cleared her throat.

  “Oh, look. I found Enowene too.”

  “Oh, you are good, my boy. I didn’t even know she was lost.”

  “I am not lost, you great oaf.”

  “Uh oh, Gondrial, you started a fire. Better come over here and have some more drink.”

  Enowene marched up to Ianthill. “I think you have had quite enough. Since when does an elf get drunk on ale so quickly?”

  “We abandoned the ale a while ago. Denit, the innkeeper over there, keeps a stock of elvish brandywine behind the counter.”

  “Well, that explains it,” Lady Shey said, giving Denit a stern glance. He slowly backed his way out of the common room through a door by the counter, cutting his eyes left and right.

  “Both of you go up to your rooms. I will deal with Denit while I set up lodging for Shey. Go on.” Enowene pushed Ianthill along and took the bottle out of Gondrial’s hand, which he had just picked up off the table.

  “We procured a room at the Eagle Eye, Enowene.”

  “No,” she said with disgust, “that place is only fit for vermin. This inn is far newer and nicer.”

  “I will need to at least go back for our things.”

  “I will send someone for your things. I am not letting you out of my sight,” Enowene said while pulling Shey into a sideways hug.

  “All these seasons and you are still taking care of me.”

  Enowene hugged her tighter. “You will always be a blue-eyed, dirty-faced little girl to me.”

  “By the gods, I hope not!” Lady Shey proclaimed.

  Enowene chuckled. “Here we are.” At the entryway to the inn rooms and at the rear of the common room stood a rounded counter with keys hanging on a panel, just out of reach, on the wall behind. A fair-haired young maiden stood in anticipation behind the counter.

  “I need accommodations for two more, if you please.”

/>   “Certainly,” the maiden replied. “We have two rooms left.” She took down two keys and handed them to Enowene, who gave them to Lady Shey and Shila. Enowene paid the maiden.

  “I will reimburse you as soon as I can get to my money at the Vale.”

  Enowene just glowered and crooked her head at her. Lady Shey knew what that look meant. “Thank you, old friend.”

  Enowene nodded. “Of course.” She turned her attention back to the counter. “Mistress, I also need a servant to retrieve some things from the Eagle Eye.”

  “At once,” the girl replied.

  A commotion at the front double doors drew their attention. A tall, dark, cloaked figure entered the common room, and someone knocked over a chair, evidently startled at the person’s sudden appearance. The cloaked man walked slowly toward Lady Shey while pulling off leather gloves. After he removed his gloves, he flung off his cloak and folded it neatly on his arm. The man was very well dressed in fine, mostly dark-colored, leather. His shirt appeared to be made of blue silk, and his skin was a warm brown.

  “Sanmir!” Lady Shey exclaimed, immediately embracing him in a hug.

  “My lady. You told me to be ready when the time came, and here I am.”

  “I am so glad to see you, old friend.” She motioned at Enowene. “You remember Enowene.”

  “I certainly do.” His voice became silky and smooth. He reached for her hand and kissed the top of it. “My lady.”

  “Sanmir of Darovan.” Enowene returned the greeting.

  “And this is Shila of the mountain realms.” Lady Shey motioned to her short friend.

  Sanmir reached for her hand too. “I am pleased to make your acquaintance.”

  Shila made an awkward curtsy, not knowing exactly what to do.

  Sanmir gave her an odd glance and then addressed Lady Shey. “I bring news from Ianthill. He asked me to tell you to stay put here in Basillain until he arrives. Where is Gondrial? Ianthill said he sent him ahead while he made his way to Brookhaven to talk to the townsfolk.”