Thinking of Awrak and Leonin, the drake looked back at the ancient edifice. “When? How long? We sssaw no bodiesss!”
“Last—last night. It took their—their—” Kalena suddenly threw herself into his chest, sobbing.
Unaccustomed to such emotion focused on him, Morgis initially stood frozen. Then, recalling how others reacted, he put one tentative arm around the cat woman, patting her gently but awkwardly near the shoulder.
But as he comforted her, his mind raced. He recalled the blood stain and how fresh it had seemed. It would have taken many rats to make such a mark.
What a fool he had been!
Kalena looked up, her eyes wider yet. “Your friends! You need to warn them! Brom and the Gnor, they didn’t know to expect anything—”
“I cannot leave you out here,” he hissed. “You mussst come.”
“I can’t—” Kalena started to pull away, then apparently thought better of it. “But—I’ve nowhere to go.”
Morgis straightened. His full height put him on a level akin to the Gnor and he had abilities the other fighter had lacked. “Remain with me and you will be safe. I promissse you that on my honor as a drake warrior.…”
She said nothing, only nodding. Keeping her close to his free arm, he steered her toward the structure. They moved at a quick pace—Kalena with some lingering reluctance—but not quick enough to suit Morgis. He still did not understand what had killed the smuggler’s comrades, but it had done so in the very place his own companions now awaited him.
He hoped he was not already too late.
AND FROM THE woods beyond where Morgis had found Kalena, several dark forms separated from the shadows… then slowly moved toward the keep.
III
“LEONIN! AWRAK!”
The drake’s shouts echoed throughout the hollow building as he and the cat woman entered. The initial lack of response filled him with dread, but then he heard movement above and Leonin appeared on the upper level.
“You tryin’ to wake the dead—” His gaze fixed on the figure next to Morgis. Although her form was all but obscured by the cloak, enough light from the torches existed to enable the human to see what his comrade had found. “Well! A lady in our midst… and fine, fine lady at that!”
Morgis looked at Kalena in the light. He had earlier compared her vague visage to that of Troia, but now he saw the marked differences. Kalena was younger, but her face had a maturity about it that hinted of a harder life than even the Gryphon’s mate. Her fur was also lighter and a small scar ran down one cheek. Like Troia, however, she was overall very beautiful.
And immediately reminded the drake of the rare emotions he had felt whenever near his old comrade’s female.
“Awrak!” Leonin called down the hall. “Get your feathered self out here and meet our guest!” With that, the slim fighter lithely descended the worn stairway, arriving before the cloaked Kalena with a flourish. He reached up to take her half-hidden hand.
Temper suddenly flaring, Morgis stepped between them. “Enough foolishnessss! We are in danger here, human!”
“Danger? What danger?”
“Tell usss, Kalena… tell usss the whole ssstory…”
And as she did, Leonin’s expression went from lusty to wary almost immediately.
Even Morgis listened with growing dismay as the cat woman told them of her search and how she had come across the cabinet. Like Leonin, she had thought that there might be riches within… but instead she had come across a horror the likes of which Kalena could never have imagined.
There were faces in the cabinet, a row of faces dangling from hooks like clothes. Most were human, but she recalled a few other races as well. At first glance, the startled smuggler had assumed them lifelike masks… until her acute sense of smell had indicated them to be much, much more.
“They were… they were real. They were real faces… but only the skin! And when I looked closer… I saw that it wasn’t just the faces, not even just the entire head… but the rest of the body as well!”
That was when she had fled downstairs without thinking. Only at the bottom of the steps had Kalena realized that she needed to find the others. Brom was her lover as well as her partner, but at that moment the Gnor had seemed a much more desirable presence.
That is, until she had discovered his body.
Awrak descended just as she described finding the Gnor’s grisly remains, but he had clearly heard more. The avian bristled and his clawed hands tightened on his weapon.
“A horrid thing, a thing so very horrid,” he muttered.
“They say a lot of things awoke when the raiders’ god was put away,” commented Leonin. “They say those things’ve been waiting for centuries to play their own mischief…”
Morgis hissed agreement, then asked, “And neither of you sssaw anything?”
“There’s that cabinet she mentioned, but it was empty. You didn’t find no body, either, right?”
“None. Only tracesss of blood… which I was simple enough to think came from the mealsss of crows.”
They looked around the empty chamber, studying each shadowed corner. Veterans all, they were used to foes wielding blades, not monstrous powers and bloody tastes.
“It is too late to go anywhere else. We will remain together, in thisss room, with a fire set in the center.” Morgis recalled the wood he had gathered. “There isss fuel outside the entrance, only a few yards away. I will get it—”
But Kalena suddenly clutched his arm, her eyes wide. “No! Please don’t leave me!”
Leonin snickered and Awrak let out a quiet, cooing sound, his equivalent of mirth. The drake’s eyes flashed at the two.
“You can’t turn down a damsel in distress, Morgis! She needs you! I’ll go get it…”
Awrak followed. “Will bring in the horses.”
Left alone with Kalena, Morgis was at a loss. He had brought her to safety, but now had nothing to offer her. Worse, she did not seem at all prepared to release his arm.
“I’ve never seen anything like you,” she whispered. “Where do you come from?”
“From across the watersss. I am a drake warrior, ssson of the Blue Dragon, who rulesss Irillian By the Sssea.”
Her enchanting eyes grew wider yet. “You—you’re one of the dragon men?”
“Yesss.” Morgis’s clan had traded with smugglers and coastal towns for some generations, so their presence on this continent, while rare, was not unheard of. Still, Kalena stared at him as if seeing the most wondrous jewel in the world.
Her hand ran across his chest. “This scale. This is you, not armor.”
“It isss ssstronger than mossst armor…”
Leonin chose that moment to return, his arms full of dry wood. He chuckled at Morgis’s obvious discomfort, then cheerfully carried the fuel to the center. “No need to disturb yourselves! I’ll be lightin’ the fire as usual.”
A moment later, Awrak, too, returned. “Horses nervous, very nervous. Didn’t want to come in, not come in at all.”
In truth, he had to nearly drag the animals to the far side of the chamber. Morgis would have preferred the horses in a stable, but not this night.
The bird man eyed Leonin’s efforts with disdain. “Be all night making that, all night.” He made a squawking sound. “Not nearly enough wood, too, wood not nearly enough.”
“My arms aren’t as big as our scaly friend’s here,” the human said with a wink. “There’s still some more just outside the entrance.”
While Awrak went to retrieve the remainder of Morgis’s load, Kalena finally disengaged herself and went to the small fire Leonin had managed. He looked up at her, grinning. The cat woman, her cloak still clutched protectively around her, knelt, taking in the warmth.
Grateful to be free yet oddly disappointed at the same time, Morgis kept watch. One hand remained on the sword at his side. It, the sheath, and the belt that held them—all gifts from the Master Guardians—were the only items on his person that were not actually a
part of his skin. If he needed to transform, the belt would simply break, a necessary loss.
“So warm,” he heard Kalena murmur pleasantly. His red orbs shifted to her, taking in her shrouded form and her young face. Again he recalled another feline face and the burgeoning emotions he had been forced to keep in check. More than in the Dragonrealm, it was not uncommon to find pairings of different races. Some, like the Gryphon and Troia, had even been blessed with offspring. Others had no such hope, but love bound them together.
There were times when he wished that he had sailed home… and other times he was glad that he had not.
A slight scraping noise arose from the open window to his right.
The sword came out. Morgis poised for attack. Leonin leapt from the fire, his own blade ready to back up the drake.
Nothing.
“Just a branch rubbin’ against the stone,” suggested the human.
“Maybe.” Morgis glanced to the entrance. “Awrak hasss been gone for quite a long time, don’t you think?”
“He has, hasn’t he?”
Kalena slipped around the campfire and clutched Leonin’s free arm. Morgis tried to ignore the thoughts that briefly raced through his mind upon seeing this.
“I shall go investigate,” the drake finally declared.
“Want I should go, too?”
“No. Ssstay with her.”
The cat woman rewarded his concern with a grateful smile, which Morgis pretended to ignore. Sword before him, he stepped out to where Awrak should have been gathering the wood.
But the avian was nowhere to be seen. The wood lay in a small stack, as if Awrak had prepared it, then wandered off.
Morgis sincerely doubted that his companion had done so foolhardy a thing.
Taking a risk, he called out the bird man’s name, but the harsh wind swallowed his attempt. Morgis hissed. Bending low, he seized an armful of wood and quickly retreated inside.
Leonin frowned when he saw the drake. “By that armload you’ve got there, I take it our friend is gone.”
“There was no sssssign of him. No sign of any struggle, either.” Morgis forced out the two words, fighting the sibilation common among drakes when they grew excited or upset. This was not the time to fall into bad and very careless habits… especially in front of Kalena.
“Maybe this time we should all go out there together,” suggested the bearded human. “That way we can keep Kalena safe and still watch for Awrak.” Despite their many differences, Leonin clearly did not like the thought of something having happened to his verbal sparring partner.
But Kalena pulled back, shaking her head and drawing her cloak yet tighter around her body. “No! I won’t go out there! We need to stay in here!”
“Easy, girl! No real fear! Morgis here’ll turn into a full-fledged dragon if need be! Let’s see any monster take that on!”
A tingle coursed through the drake. It bothered him more than it should have that Leonin had reminded her that Morgis was, in essence, a beast parading as an almost-man. Yet, his partner had a point. To save their lives, Morgis was prepared to transform and light the landscape afire. It shamed him that the human’s offhand suggestion should have already been a done thing, that he should be out there even now, flying over the countryside in search of Awrak.
“You shall stay here, Kalena,” he responded as soothingly as possible. “And Leonin will be your guard. I will search for Awrak alone.”
“What are you going to do?” she asked, eyes so wide he thought he might willingly fall into them.
“What Leonin just sssuggested.”
He undid his belt, handing the sheath and sword to the human. For all its size, the chamber had an entrance too low and narrow for him to fit through once he changed. Morgis would have to step outside, likely halfway down the ruined path. Even among dragons, he was considered a giant.
“Please take care!” Kalena called after him.
Her concerned heartened him as he stepped out into the ungodly night. Morgis kept a sharp eye out as he wended his way down, still hoping to find some trail leading to Awrak. Curiously, without a sword, he felt somewhat naked. The drake had little desire to change to his birth form, but that choice had been taken from him.
When he felt he had moved far enough away from the keep, Morgis took a deep breath and readied himself. Almost two years had passed since his last transformation.
But as he drew upon his innate magic, willed his body to both shift in shape and grow in size, a familiar tingling touched every nerve.
The transformation faltered.
“What’sss thissss?” he muttered, body shaking and head suddenly throbbing.
From out of the dead forest burst several armored forms.
The Aramites moved like shadows come to life, their ebony armor adding to their eerie and shocking appearance. Most wielded long, narrow swords. Morgis’s eyes registered at least six of the wolf raiders, three on each side of him. He instinctively went for his sword, then cursed his folly for having left the weapon behind.
But with or without a sword and although trapped in a mortal form, the drake was hardly defenseless. As the first Aramite came at him, Morgis twisted to the side, letting the blade’s edge pass within inches of his chest. He then seized hold of the raider’s wrist and pulled the Aramite forward using a strength far superior to any one human.
With a cry, his first foe went flying into the air, colliding with a satisfying crash into two of those attacking from the opposite direction.
Seizing the weapon of one of the fallen raiders, Morgis turned to confront the remaining trio.
“Slithering out of the shadows, eh? You are not the sons of the wolf! More like the get of a serpent!”
He met the arcing blades of two of the Aramites, first deflecting them, then swinging with such brute force that the raiders retreated. The third attacker thrust as Morgis completed his swing, nearly catching the drake under the sword arm.
As Morgis fell back, one of raiders he had bowled over started to rise. Seizing the still-stunned figure by the collar, the scaled knight pulled the hapless villain in front just as three swords sought the drake’s heart.
Two of the points buried themselves in the Aramite’s neck and shoulder. With a quiet grunt, Morgis’s human shield slumped forward, momentarily blocking the other raiders.
But even as one opponent fell, more spilled out of the woods. One leapt at Morgis too eagerly and for his zealousness received a thrust through the unprotected throat. The drake managed to punch another, sending him sprawling, then jumped over the body.
Twice more he deflected their attacks, managing to wound one foe in the sword arm, but Morgis knew the odds were against him. One-to-one or even three-to-one, he had little doubt as to his victory, but against so many…
And then the tingling he had felt earlier returned, but with a painful vengeance. Roaring, Morgis fell to one knee, his grip on his weapon all but lost.
The Aramites fell on him then, trying to bury him under their combined mass. The mob assault actually took his mind from the agony within and the drake threw himself into the fight. With some pleasure, he heard bone crack as he hit one adversary. Seizing another, Morgis pushed to his feet and threw the struggling figure as hard as he could.
But his respite did not last. The pain returned, forcing him to the earth. Now the wolf raiders took distinct pleasure in pummeling him. They beat at the drake again and again, cursing him with a hundred names and venting their frustration over the loss of the grand empire on one of those most responsible.
Finally, a voice cut through the din, saying, “That will be enough. I want the beast alive… for now.”
It was the last thing Morgis heard before the culmination of his injuries made him faint.
IV
HE WAS DROWNING. Water filled his lungs, making him choke. Morgis tried to breathe, but all he did was inhale more liquid. The black sea surrounded him and the drake could not find the surface. His heart pounded as the lack o
f air took its toll.
“Once more,” commanded a voice filled with disdain.
A new wave washed over the drowning drake. He coughed again. Rough hands turned him over and he finally managed to spit up some of the water.
Slowly it registered to him that he rested his forehead against stone.
“Curious. I thought the blue dragons of an aquatic nature. This one looks as capable of life in the sea as a sand rat.”
The comment received several gruff sniggers from various points surrounding Morgis. Spitting out more water, he managed to reply, “We are—are like the whalesss and—ssseals, fool! We hold air inssside—when we are given the chance t-to take it first!”
For his reply Morgis was rewarded with a harsh kick to the side.
“He seems recovered enough,” said the voice that appeared to be in command. “Bind his arms behind him.”
Several pairs of rough hands pulled the drake from the floor. Through bleary orbs, Morgis gradually recognized the interior of the old keep. Worse, he also recognized the guarded form of Leonin, but Kalena was nowhere in sight.
A sudden rage at what the wolf raiders might have done with her enabled Morgis to stand of his own accord. He pulled free of the soldiers, but then the tingling began and once more the drake slipped to one knee.
“There will be none of that.”
To his left, he noted the source of his pain. Although for the most part clad like the other armored figures, the tall, broad-shouldered leader wore not the closed helms of his underlings but rather an open one with an elaborate wolf’s head crest. The savage, lupine head looked nearly alive, a tribute to the dark god in whose image it had been cast. A small ridge of gray fur rode down the back of the helm, the tip just touching the figure’s flowing cloak, also made of fur.
The face within the helm well-matched the savage crest. If this Aramite did not have the blood of the Ravager flowing through his veins, Morgis would have been surprised. Under a thick, curving brow, narrow black eyes glittered dangerously. The nose was long, narrow, almost canine, and the mouth was wide and almost lipless.
Legends of the Dragonrealm, Vol. II Page 102
