“Fennec Nall mentioned the Crescent Reavers. He said they called themselves the rahksa. What are they exactly? Is there any way we can find them?” Kalla asked.
“The Reaversss are dragon-kin, Great Lady. Warped and twisssted dragon-kin. You will not find them, ssso long asss they do not wisssh to be found,” Xemenek hissed. “We tried. We would have reclaimed what was ourssss, but to no avail. They come and go as the wind, bringing death and destruction.”
Kalla shook her head. “I am at a loss as to what to do then. We cannot continue to search blindly, yet we cannot proceed either.”
“I hate to say it, but if they belong to the Nagali, then sooner or later we can assume they will come after you, milady,” Aleister said. “Maybe then we will get the chance to obtain the spear or its location.”
The Healer frowned, but nodded. “Perhaps. I don't like putting any of you in such danger though.”
“Don't even think about it,” Vander growled. “We aren't leaving you to be hunted by these things. You are safer with us than without.”
The dragons carried them from the temple to caves within the caldera walls, and there the magi saw the aftermath left behind by what they sought to hunt themselves. Wounded dragons and wyvere filled the chambers. Strewn about were the trampled remains of earthen nests and shattered eggs. Pools of dried blood and albumen, some bearing imprints of the fallen, dotted the cavern floors, though the bodies had been removed. The three magi set to work, healing the dragons and wyvere who yet lived.
When Aleister finally made Kalla stop because she was starting to drain his own energy, she found that both Manny and Vander had long since ceased working and were fast asleep from their efforts, with their magisters standing a weary guard. The Fox gently guided her over to them and pushed her down beside Vander. She was asleep almost before she hit the floor, utterly drained from the work.
* * *
Ashen heat blew across the Healer's face and her eyes flew open. She was in the dream world, of that much she was certain. Dark clouds roiled in the sky, tinged a bloody red. She was standing on a bare island, amidst a sluggish sea of lava that inexorably made its way past.
Smoky laughter came from behind her and Kalla turned to face a black-scaled dragon of immense proportions, bigger than even the sleeping Orius. Ruby-red eyes glittered from beneath great curling ram-horns, peering down a slender, barbeled muzzle at the tiny mage. A mane of fur ran down the dragon's long slinky neck and tufted the ankles and elbows as well. Black feathery wings flared open as the dragon sat back on its haunches.
All is One. The dragon said in a smoky voice. Kalla's eyes widened as she realized this must be Grael the Black, the Lady of Chaos herself.
“One is All,” Kalla responded.
As above.
“So below.”
“Thus are all Connected.”
Greetings, Lady Amaraaq. Thank you for healing the lands of my children. You came here seeking my Fang. Though it be stolen, I will give you what you need to forge another. You have a talented Artificer and Artisan traveling with you. The Lady Laeksheen has given him the materials to craft such a weapon. I will give you what you lack.
The black dragon opened her jaws wide, reaching far into her mouth. With a sudden tug she withdrew her paw. In her claws Grael held a foot-long serrated tooth which she gently passed off to Kalla.
Careful now. It is sharp.
“Thank you, Lady Grael. We will make good use of your gift.”
That is my hope, Empress of Wolves. That is my hope. We would also like to ask if you would free us as you have freed the others of our 'family'.
“Family?” Kalla asked.
You think of the Patrons of the various lands as all one rather bizarre family, little Wolf. That we are- one big family.
“I would be honored to do so, Lady Grael,” the mage said. She looked down at the fang in her hands, then back up at the leviathan looming above her. “Lady Grael, is it true? Are you and yours as old as Araun?”
A snort came from further behind the black dragon. The air shimmered, then coalesced into first one, then another, then another towering dragon. In the end, seven dragons stood ranged about her, as different from one another as they could be.
A pearly-scaled dragon dipped its head to her. This dragon looked much like Grael in his body form, the only difference being that he had leathery wings instead of feathered ones. Bright blue eyes regarded her with loving patience. Kalla guessed that it was Ayahz, Grael's mate.
We are nearly as old as Father Araun. We were among the first created from the One.
“How did you survive the years when so many others did not?” Kalla asked.
Our children have longer memories and longer lives. They are not as fickle as the younger, short-lived races. This from a stocky, blunt-muzzled dragon scaled in silver-grey. Thick horns jutted back from his heavy brow and he unfurled leathery wings, fanning the air gently. This would be Bahamut then, Kalla thought. Orius' brother.
That is not the point now is it? A red dragon said testily, fixing a fierce orange gaze on the group. He looked like Bahamut, save for his scales shone like trapped firelight and jet black horns adorned his head.
Do not be silly, Freyeth. The new one come among us is welcome to learn. She is part of the family now. An emerald green dragon chided Freyeth in gentle feminine tones and he withdrew with a slightly abashed look. The green dragon, Lady Gaia, was long and slinky, lacking wings. Stubby horns framed her head.
Please excuse my mate, Lady Amaraaq. He speaks truth though. Will you free us?
“Certainly, I will do as I may, if only you will tell me how,” Kalla said. “Only, I thought that I had freed the Patrons of Su Ramerides.”
You freed the Patrons of this land. We, however, hold sway over a land far from these shores. We are present here because here it is that the dragons dwell.
No fancy Song do we have for you, but a great artifact most certainly. An odd serpentine dragon covered in blue-grey feathery scales came forward. This dragon, Rai, looked like the wyvern, with two wings and two feet, though his wings were feathery. A great feathered crest framed his crocodalian head and it was in those massive jaws that he held an object. Gently he lowered his head to Kalla's level and let her withdraw a large hunting horn. The Healer gasped at its beauty, for it was covered with scales of myriad colors. There were scales of pearly opalescence, those of iridescent obsidian, darkly shining silver, glittering carmine and shimmers of azure and emerald. The edging of the horn was decorated with wispy feather scales akin to Rai's.
You need merely blow the Horn called Dragon's Dirge to free us, as easy a task as the one Father Araun gave you. The last of the clustered dragons was the blue-scaled wurm Tiama'at. Like her earthly children, the great dragon goddess had massive tripartite jaws. Limbless and wingless, she was coiled in a great shimmering sapphire heap.
Go now. Grael rumbled. Go now and use the Horn when you can. Take it with you, for its haunting call can immobilize and disorient the wretched Kin, the Crescent Reavers. You will have an advantage over them they will not be expecting. And seek you out they will, once they realize that you have crafted a new spear.
“I will do so, Great Ones,” Kalla said.
And best of luck to you, with our thanks, Lady Amaraaq. Grael said as Kalla began to fade from the smoke-tinged realm of the dragons.
Connacovara Peak, Dragon Caves, Su Ramerides, Year of the Mythril Serpent, 2014 CE
Sunlight streamed through the cave entrance, spilling over Kalla and warming the stones. Grumbling, the Healer grudgingly woke to find Aleister watching her with a slight grin. She groaned and shifted to find that she had been lying upon the jagged tooth. The Horn she found clutched protectively to her chest.
The Fox's smile broadened when he saw she was awake and he held out a waterskin to her. As she took it Kalla noticed that Vander and Manny still slept. Kasai and Lukas slept now as well. The wyvern were gone, most likely hunting. Aleister was busy tending a sm
all fire over which the carcasses of two capybara sizzled tantalizingly. Kalla winced as her tummy growled.
“The dragons brought them for us. I went ahead and started cooking them, though sadly we have no spices or such. Figured you'd be hungry when you woke.
“We took it in turn to watch over you. Lucky or unlucky, I got the last watch,” he said. “The others haven't budged a bit. No matter what you might think of the role a magister plays, I can certainly see why the magi are required to have one.”
Kalla gave him a sour look and handed the waterskin back. While Aleister finished cooking breakfast, Kalla's made her rounds to check on the recovering dragons. By the time she returned, the others had woken and the capybara were finished cooking. The Fox handed her a cooled piece as she settled down beside him. Kalla took it gratefully, murmuring a soft thanks.
“How were they doing, Dashkele?” Vander asked.
“They are all doing well. You both did good work,” she said.
“Did we heal all of them?” Manny looked to her hopefully.
“Aye, all of them that needed it.”
“I'm glad.”
Kalla nodded, then gently withdrew the long fang from within her robes. She'd dulled the edge with a shield so she wouldn't accidentally maim herself.
“The Lady Grael was gracious enough to give us a new tooth,” Kalla said. “She said you would be able to craft a new spear, Vander.”
Vander took the tooth from her and looked at it from all angles, sinking into the absent-minded mode that meant he was thinking of possibilities.
One of the dragons, an amethyst beauty, lumbered over to them and lowered her head to Kalla's level.
“Thank you, for healing us,” the purple leviathan murmured sadly. Kalla reached out and gently placed a hand on one of the dragon's talons. The Healer knew, from her work, that this young female dragon had lost not an egg, but a dragonet in the attack.
“I know what you lost, young one. I grieve with you. If it is in our power we will repay the Reavers for your losses.
“Nay, Great Lady, do not seek them out. To meet them is to meet death itself. Our young were slaughtered mercilessly, the eggs targeted specifically.
“They were everywhere that night. No place was safe. The dragonets and the eggs, those are the greatest loss for us. They were our future, the future of the dragons and of the wyvere.”
“I do not intend to seek them out, but I have every reason to think they will come hunting for me. If they do, we will be ready, and we will avenge you and your kin,” Kalla said.
“How can you hope to stand against them when even we could not, Great Lady?”
“With this.”
Kalla gathered up the Horn and went to stand at the cave's entrance. Below them spread a vast panorama encompassing the crater lake and its mist-shrouded island, as well as the canopy of jungle beyond. In the distance a volcano steamed gently. Wispy plume of smoke rose lazily into the morning sky.
Kalla raised the Horn, running her hands over the glittering scales, then put it to her lips and blew. A deep mournful sound rolled across the lake, echoing from the surrounding mountains. The echoes died away, followed by a hint of smoky laughter drifting with the breeze.
Xemenek and Ramac had come to the cave's entrance and now stood beside the Healer.
“Where did you get that?” the great gold-scaled dragon asked.
“I received it from the Seven. They said it would be useful against the Reavers,” Kalla replied. “However, it is a treasure of the dragons. When my task is over, I will have it and hopefully both spears returned to you. The Eye too, if it is in my power to do so.”
There was only one spear taken, Great Lady.
“Lady Grael gave me the means to have another created. My companion can do so.”
Wolf's Fury
Rang'moori, Evalyce, Year of the Mythril Serpent, 2014 CE
Sunset swirls of purple and rose shone through the wispy clouds. Thin streamers of smoke drifted up from the forest floor, catching Kalla's attention as the Stymphalian flew by.
“Aleister, turn back,” she said. The Fox patiently obliged as Kalla radioed the Heracles. They overflew the clearing from which the smoke rose. Aleister brought the ship to ground, the Heracles landing nearby.
“What happened here?” the Fox asked as they surveyed the damage at a more personal range. Blackened grass and the charred remains of trees covered a near perfect circle.
“The area was warded,” Vander said. “A weak ward, but enough to stop the flames.” The War Mage shuddered. “And the fire was elemental fire. This was a summoner's work.”
“A summoner? You don't think this is Grosso's work do you?” she asked.
“I don't know any other summoners, do you?”
Kalla called out to Jahnsen, hoping the flame elemental could shed some light on what happened. Smoke coalesced and coiled about her as the elemental responded to her call and she put her question to him.
Indeed, Great Lady. There were elementalssss here, not sssso long ago. Jahnsen uncoiled from Kalla and darted around the ruined clearing, his smoky form flashing from place to place. When he was done, Jahnsen returned to the Healer's side.
Two flame elementalsss and an earth elemental, Great Lady. Sssomething elsse here, too. Sssomething dangerous. This was a ssslaver'sss camp. Jahnsen hissed. The slaves made it out before the camp was desstroyed, but the ssslaverss did not. They died here.
Kalla walked through the area, concentrating. Now that she knew what to look for, it was easy to sense the deaths that had taken place here. Sifting through the ashes, Kalla shivered as she touched fragments of bone. Each shard, each tiny touch, passed fading memories to her.
The slavers' deaths had been as unpleasant as the men themselves, brutal, harsh, and unforgiving. Images of their final moments flashed through her mind. Screams, panic, half-seen glimpses of something that looked to be covered in a thin black fur or feathers and moved like the wind itself. The smoky voice of Tama and a rumbling growl like that of rocks in a landslide.
“Tama was here, and that means Grosso was too. Why would he have let the slaves go? Why would he care in the first place?” Kalla murmured.
“I cannot say, Dashkele,” the War Mage said. “This is a cursed place. We should leave.”
Though Rinsook was close, Kalla wanted to contact the Patrons of Rang'moori out away from a village or town. Dinner was done and the sun had long since sunk beyond the horizon, going to its nightly slumber. The moon had risen, full and bright.
Kalla was resting against Amaterasu's side, reading. Vander lay next to her, in his wolf form. Closer to the campfire Manny and the magisters sat huddled around a pair of chigali boards.
A panicked cry of a distressed child split the night. Vander jumped up, ears pricked forward and mane fluffed. A deep bass growling filled the wolf's chest and he suddenly darted from the clearing, passing through the wards. Both Arkaddians followed him into the darkness beyond as the child cried out again. A man's scream came next, cut off rather abruptly.
“Aleister? Are you okay? What's going on?” Kalla asked, sharing a look with Manny. By the fire, the younger Healer's eyes were wide with fear and uncertainty.
“A slaver, milady. Chasing a young boy. Vander has… taken care of the man. We are returning now,” the Fox said.
It wasn't long before the three returned, Aleister carrying a young boy. The child, barely five years old, had a dull listless look in his eyes as if resigned to whatever fate they had in store for him.
Kalla frowned and took the child from her Aleister, murmuring soft words of comfort. It took the boy a moment to focus on her, but when he did tears filled his blue eyes and he buried his head against her, sobbing.
The Healer gently rocked him, making soft shushing noises. She allowed her gift to flow through him, easing his evident fear and distress and in doing so found the cause. Kalla grew sick at heart with what had been done to the child. Without looking up she spoke to the three th
at had brought him in.
“There are more out there, if you follow the boy's trail back. Find them and when you do, show them no mercy,” she said in a flat voice. Vander turned without a word and trotted back into the darkness with the two Arkaddians shadowing him in silence.
* * *
The wolf bent his head to his task, following the child's scent trail. Behind him, Aleister and Kasai moved silently through the forest. By this time all three knew what Kalla had learned and each was just as angry as the Healer.
The clearing they came to was small. This wasn't a full slaver's camp like the other had been. These men had been out hunting and were now making their way back home.
Safe in the shadowed forest, Vander shielded the magisters, then melted back into the shadows. Like a wraith the wolf circled the small camp, laying wardings of containment as he went. From within the camp he heard the sound of soft sobbing and once a pleading female voice that quickened his pace in anger. It was hard to see into the camp, as far back in the woods as he was, but the War Mage counted three tents. A fire blazed in the middle with a lone man attending it.
Rejoining the magisters, Vander shifted and wordlessly gestured for them to circle the camp in opposite directions. He waited until he heard Kasai's whistling nightbird cry float through the trees, followed by Aleister's response, then plunged into the clearing, igniting the wards behind him. The man at the fire jumped up in alarm and fell back again just as suddenly, a dagger buried in his throat.
Using his magick, Vander uprooted the first tent, and flung it aside, only to find the source of the pleading voice. The War Mage roared in wordless fury, ripping the slaver off of his victim, his anger doubled by the fact that the slaver was Dashmari. The man was dead before he hit the ground.
Vandet snarled, ears flat, as two more men fled from the tent, while the terrified young woman tried desperately to gather the blankets about herself. Another Dashmari, a brother by scent, stayed to fight, but he fared no better than the first.
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