D’Kairn kept most of his attention on the doorway to the one back room, no doubt assuming that the guard would be watching the prisoner. However, the guard’s gaze also eventually drifted more to the doorway than to his charge. Both Aramites were clearly growing disturbed at the lengthening absence of their cohorts.
Morgis braced himself, waiting for what would undoubtedly be his last chance. They had bound his arms, but, as before, they had left his legs free.
The cloaked keeper paused, completely facing the doorway. Out of the corner of his eye, the drake noted that the guard’s attention was fixed on that direction. One hand remained on the sword hilt, but the weapon was still sheathed.
It was the moment for which Morgis had been hoping.
Pushing forward with all his might, he leapt toward D’Kairn’s back.
The guard shouted and tried to stop him, but his hand came away empty. Running as hard as he could, the drake lowered his head like a battering ram.
D’Kairn started to turn… but too late.
The much larger Morgis barreled into the keeper with such force that D’Kairn went flying. The sorcerer lost his hold on the necklace, which wrapped itself around his neck.
Stumbling on, Morgis made for the doorway.
He heard the guard in hot pursuit. Morgis prayed that the Aramites had done the obvious and left the entrance to the hidden passage open. If not, then he had just signed his own death warrant.
At first, all Morgis could see was darkness. A frustrated hiss escaped him just before he noticed that part of the wall to the left leaned out. Without hesitation, the drake threw himself into the passage.
Almost immediately, he collided with an inner wall. Bouncing off of it, Morgis staggered his way along, certain that the remaining guard was hot on his heels.
The clank of metal assured him of that fact. He swore under his breath. If at least he could free himself, then he could face the Aramite on equal terms. A drake with one good arm was certainly equal to a wolf raider with two.
Now he could hear the soldier’s harsh breathing, a sign that the Aramite was gaining rapidly. Morgis knew that he would never make it to the end of the passage and even if he did, it might be to run into the other soldiers. The darkness of the tunnel did give him some advantage, though. The guard would have to almost be right on top of Morgis to see him.
The drake hesitated as a desperate plan suddenly came to mind. On top of him?
It was worth the risk. Even with the armor, he outweighed the wolf raider.
Morgis dropped to the floor, rolling immediately onto his back. He braced his legs and tried to ignore the throbbing pain in his shoulder.
A second later, a shadowed form came running toward him. Despite being only a few yards from the drake, the guard still ran at full speed.
Morgis’s feet caught the Aramite full in the stomach. The armor prevented the drake from driving the breath from the wolf raider, but that was not what Morgis intended.
The Aramite fell forward.
Rocking back, Morgis used the human’s momentum to help him throw the raider over his head. Caught unaware, unable to see well in the dark, the Aramite let out a startled gasp as he tumbled over the drake.
He landed with a hard crash, striking at least one wall before rolling onto the passage floor.
Unwilling to lose his advantage, Morgis quickly rolled over and fell upon the Aramite. He strained at his bonds as he dropped on his foe, but even his prodigious strength did not avail him.
Unfortunately, his adversary was not quite as stunned as Morgis had hoped. The raider grappled with the drake, quickly realizing that the prisoner could not seize him in turn.
But the Aramite failed to recall one basic fact. He faced a dragon in mortal form, but still a creature of legend born with fang.
And although it revolted Morgis greatly, he used what all his magic could never erase.
Opening his mouth wide, the drake sank his sharp teeth into the wolf raider’s throat and tore it out.
There were those among his kind who still savored the freshness of blood, the freshness of the kill. Morgis, though, had been raised near Irillian by the Sea, where drakes were almost—but not quite—human. He found no sweetness in the taste, only a nausea, a regret. He was thankful that neither Leonin nor, especially, Kalena could see him now.
The Aramite let out one last gurgle before falling limp. Morgis waited a moment more—then spat out the foul life fluids as quickly as he could. Shame overwhelmed him. It was one thing to meet a foe in combat, but this…
Forcing his regrets aside, Morgis felt for the guard’s dagger. That found, he worked at his bonds as swiftly as he could. All he needed was a bit of slack, a single piece of cut rope.
There! Morgis felt it give ever so slightly. He cut a bit more, then, dropping the blade, strained. His shoulder ached, demanding he cease, but Morgis refused. A little more…
The ropes gave way, tumbling to the floor. Morgis quickly exercised sore muscles, then checked his shoulder. The entire arm felt all but useless.
Nonetheless, he located the guard’s sword and headed on, hoping he could yet catch up to Leonin and the cat woman. Morgis had heard nothing so far, which made him hope that clever Leonin and feline Kalena had combined their natural skills to easily evade their pursuers.
The passage wended its down, curving madly. Swearing silently as he ran, Morgis peered ahead for some subtle difference in the darkness that would indicate he had reached the end.
At last, a hint of wind caressed his face. Hissing, Morgis increased his pace. Ahead, a sliver of darkness lighter than that around it beckoned him.
The outer door of the passage had been left ajar, but not enough for the towering drake to slip through. He pushed at the false stone wall, finding it a harder trial than he had expected. Putting his good shoulder to it, Morgis shoved.
The door gave way—and the drake discovered the obstacle that had make his task so difficult.
What was left of a wolf raider lay almost jammed into the false wall. His breastplate had been torn apart as if made of silk and most of his face had been take along with it.
Kneeling close, Morgis could see that the skin had been expertly flayed.
Every muscle in his body taut, the drake surveyed the scene.
More bodies.
They lay scattered about, each in some varying stage of horror. Armor had done nothing for them, nor had their weapons evidently. Some were devoid of almost everything, including their outer flesh. Others looked as if the creature had paused in mid-work, intending to return.
A quick count verified that the entire pursuit party lay before him.
What can kill ssso swiftly? Morgis wondered. Kill so ssswiftly that I heard no sssound even so near?
There was no sign of his friends. From the evidence he had seen so far of the monster’s work, it would have made more sense for their bodies to lie here among the others. That meant that they still might be alive.
But where?
Crippling pain sent him crashing among the corpses, the sword flying from his hand. He did not have to see behind him to know the cause.
“This is what it means not to have the order, the control, perpetuated by the empire!” D’Kairn’s voice had an edge to it that Morgis had never heard before. The keeper sounded strained. “You curse us, call us fiends, but I see before me a thing more monstrous than anything we are accused of!”
Morgis could have argued that point quite well, having witnessed the atrocities performed by the Aramites in the name of their savage god, but another flash of bone-numbing pain coursed through him, preventing him from thinking at all, much less disagreeing with the sorcerer.
“This is not a triumph for you and your friends,” D’Kairn continued, his voice nearer now. “These men have but sacrificed for the cause. I will still bear my research to others like me and we shall combine our efforts. We will bring this continent in line again!”
“If they are all asss you,�
� the drake finally managed. “Then your empire isss dead and buried, keeper! A leader who sendsss all hisss men to their deathsss ssso carelessly does not ssstir much confidence in thossse others he would think to command!”
“Insolent lizard!”
The pain nearly crushed Morgis into the earth. How strong was D’Kairn’s stone? Surely all this spellwork had to be draining it? The keeper had not had any chance to draw more from the dead.
As if reading his foe’s thoughts, D’Kairn said, “I will drain every bit of life force from your blood, track down your friends, and do the same to them… after they have tasted what my wrath shall make of the power you grant me.”
“Aren’t you forgetting ssssomething? Your patternsss?”
Now the keeper’s voice came from right beside Morgis. “There will be some necessary loss, but you are a dragon, after all. However much is lost, there shall be more than enough to satisfy me… you have my word on that.”
You are a dragon, after all.… Yet here he was, face in the dirt, about to be slain by a lone Aramite. A pitiful end. He could not even raise a finger to help himself.
“D’Kairn… I am not resssponsssible for the deaths of mossst of your men… there isss a creature loose in thisss ancient place—”
“Spare me your pathetic drivel. I—”
But whatever the keeper sought to say ended in a horrified gurgle. Something clattered next to Morgis and the pain D’Kairn had inflicted on him vanished. Movement was once more his.
Immediately he rolled away from the direction of the keeper, only to land atop yet another flayed body. The same musky scent that he had noticed emanating from the Gnor filled his nostrils. He instinctively pushed away from the slim corpse, certain that whatever fate had befallen D’Kairn would strike next at him.
Only—neither the keeper nor whatever had attacked the him were anywhere to be seen.
No! Something moved toward the ruins. A shape. That was all Morgis could make of it. It vanished into the passage with an incredible swiftness.
Morgis tried to transform, but nothing happened. Despite the fact that D’Kairn was no more, the spell remained active. Morgis looked around for the necklace and the stone, but could not find them. Whatever had taken the keeper had taken the talisman as well.
As he retrieved his sword from near the slim corpse, he noticed for the first time that the body was feminine. At first he feared that he had found Kalena, but then he noticed that the body had lain there for some time, for it was dry to the touch, not moist and fresh like those of the slain Aramites.
But how much longer did Kalena and Leonin have? The wolf raiders were all dead, which mean that the only victims remaining for the monster were Morgis, his partner, and the cat woman.
Eyes narrowed, the drake hurried toward the ruins, hoping he would not be too late to save the others and yet not at all certain he was not simply adding himself to the rapidly-growing list of its victims.
VII
MORGIS DID NOT follow the beast into the passage, as it might have expected. Instead, he circled the keep, each step taken with a wariness he had not felt since the height of the war. Of his friends or his quarry he saw no sign. He still clung to the hope that he would find the former alive and well, but with each passing breath that hope sank more and more.
As he neared the entrance, the drake saw that the fire still burned within the building. However, Morgis did not take that as an invitation to enter freely. He also heard the anxious sounds of the horses and wondered why the monster had not taken them already. Bait, perhaps.
Trying to be ready for anything, the drake entered.
“Morgis!”
The hooded figure leapt up from its position near the fire and raced toward him. He hesitated for a moment until he saw Kalena’s face under the vast hood.
She threw herself against his chest, her hands pressed close to his heart. The discomfort caused by her closeness was negated by his relief at finding her alive.
“I was afraid you’d run off or been killed!” She ran her fingers over his chest. “Are you cut?”
“My shoulder is dislocated, but there are no outer woundsss.”
“No cuts,” she murmured, planting her hooded head against him again. “That’s good.”
He gently pushed her back and asked, “Where isss Leonin?”
She looked behind her. “You only just missed him. He said he was going to search for you.”
The drake hissed. “The passssage?”
“Yes, but—”
“Damn!!” Morgis felt like he was trapped in a maze, constantly running around the same places as he tried in vain to reach a conclusion. “Come! We may be in time yet!”
With effort, he moved the injured arm and seized a torch. Keeping Kalena behind him, he led the way through the back room and into the narrow corridor hidden within.
The passage was as silent as the grave, not an auspicious sign. Morgis wanted to shout to Leonin, but knew that would only alert their unholy adversary to their approaching presence.
They passed the body of the guard Morgis had killed. Although much of the blood had dried, a few moist drops still glittered in the torchlight. The drake tried to shield Kalena from the truth, but her feline eyes saw quickly how the man had perished.
“I am… sssorry,” he murmured.
“It had to be done, I suppose.” She looked slightly disappointed, but the expression vanished as she eyed him. “With so many so quickly it couldn’t be avoided.” She reached up and caressed his cheek. “It’s forgotten.”
He wanted to hold her hand there, but instead turned away. “Leonin needsss usss…”
Deeper and deeper they descended. Morgis frowned. Soon they would be at the end of the passage and still he had found no trace of his partner. Did the bearded fighter even now wander around the keep, intending to return by the entrance just as the drake had? What folly in the face of horror…
Then, bits of dark moisture on the floor caught his attention. He knelt down, using the torch to study them.
“What is it?” Kalena asked, leaning over his shoulder.
“More blood.” He almost dismissed it, having seen so much already, but then noticed how it left a trail that started from in the wall on his left and headed further ahead down the passage.
Morgis jumped to his feet, holding the torch high and peering as far ahead as he could. The trail of moist, crimson drops led his gaze on…
Another body lay slumped in the narrow corridor.
Forgetting Kalena for the moment, Morgis hurried to the second form. None of the other soldiers had died in the passage, which meant that the body ahead could be only one of two missing men.
And but a moment later, Morgis’s torch revealed a corpse too short and slim to be the remains of Keeper D’Kairn.
Leonin.
Drying blood gave the body a speckled appearance. Morgis set down his sword and gently touched what was left of his companion. For all the faults of both Leonin and Awrak, they had done their tasks well and had never abandoned a comrade.
The drake hissed savagely. He looked past the corpse, but saw only more moist droplets. The fiendish beast had made good its escape.
Suddenly, Morgis frowned. Continually he thought of it as a beast, a monster. It was both, but it was also highly intelligent. Not only did it know how to hide from its prey, but Morgis believed that only an intelligent killer would ever dream of skinning its victims. He thought back to what Kalena had told him of her discoveries and tried to connect that with everything that had happened.
Surveying the scene, something else occurred to him. He looked at Leonin’s grisly form and recalled all the other victims he had come across. His fist clenched tight, but he tried to hide it from the cat woman.
“Ssso…”
“I’m so sorry, Morgis… too late again.” Kalena, cloak shielding her body, shut her eyes for a moment. “He was a strong, good fighter.”
“And it availed him nothing.” Retrieving t
he blade and rising, he glanced behind them. “Come! There’s sssomething I want to sssee.”
“What, Morgis?”
“I would rather not explain now sssince I am not certain what it meansss.” The drake put his sword arm around Kalena. “I want you to ssstay bessside me at all timesss. Do not fall behind me, underssstood?”
Her expression indicated that she did not understand, at least not entirely, but she nodded.
The trail of blood still shone bright under the light of the torch as they followed it back. A few smears here and there testified to where Morgis had been unable to avoid stepping in some of the dark fluid.
When they reached the area where he had first discovered the trail, Morgis eyed the stone wall. He tapped it twice with the flat of the blade, then saw that for which he had been searching.
“Kalena, I will ssstand ready with the sword and torch, but I want you to touch that area up on the left. That jutting piece there.”
She carefully stepped up to the wall and did as he requested. Nothing happened.
“Harder, pleassse.”
The cat woman repeated her effort.
The wall suddenly slid open like a door. Kalena jumped back.
But Morgis was there to guide her forward with his sword arm. “It isss all right, Kalena. The danger is not within.”
Together they stepped inside. Flickering light suddenly danced about the room and more than a dozen pairs of staring figures stood waiting for the newcomers.
Morgis and Kalena reflected in mirrors.
Most were full-length, but some hung on walls. The majority had cracks. They had once been masterfully-crafted and expensive pieces, for the drake recognized gold and silver in the frames and even several with jewels.
And behind the array of mirrors, set against the walls of this hidden chamber, were several high, wide, and sturdy antique cabinets of the type designed for clothes.
Again, Morgis recalled what he had been told about Kalena’s horrific find.
“It displaysss itssself here,” he muttered, drawing the cat woman along with him. Morgis positioned the two of them before the most elegant of the mirrors, a high, gilded pane with genuine diamonds inset along the surrounding edge. “Thisss would be itsss favorite, I think, where it preensss itssself in its new coveringssss.”
Legends of the Dragonrealm, Vol. II Page 105
