A Dragon Born (11 page)

"He would not betray us so openly," Kaleb said, genuinely taken aback.

"You put too much faith in nobility, Kaleb. Your dealings with Baron Manfred should have taught you better. Besides, Cerric has already put us in position to take the brunt of whatever the Kandarans throw at us and I do not think his intention is to make heroes of us."

"I think your years at Maramyr have may have jaded you," Kaleb told him. "And perhaps you are the wiser for it."

"I am no denizen of the court, but I have studied warfare and battle for most of my life and I have learned to recognize the early signs of a feint and I know when the terrain puts me at a disadvantage."

"I will have to remember that." Kaleb glanced around to make sure Mirdel was not sneaking up on them again. "What we were speaking about before, if what the mage priests are saying is true, then it means their whole religion is a sham, but it seems strange that Kroma would be the god behind the priesthood and their book. The god of valor, courage and virtue was never one for trickery and avarice, at least not according to the old histories."

*****

The cloaked figure stepped out from behind the statue of the armored knight and watched silently as the black robed mage exited the temple. The mage, who he recognized as an important member of the priesthood, had spent most of the day in the temple, just sitting silently, apparently thinking, and unaware that he was not alone. The temple of Kroma lay under a thick layer of dust, with only the faintest signs that anyone had visited in recent times and, unlike the mage, this other visitor left no footprints.

Now that the mage was safely gone, he made his way to the center of the temple, where he had originally been headed. He walked through the great hall to the great stone dais and there he saw the many visions of those who had visited the temple, the ceremonies that had taken place, honoring the courageous, those who had shown great valor and defended virtue. Moments from times long past appeared as apparitions and slowly faded, leaving only a desolate emptiness. The figure turned and saw the place where the mage had sat, on one of the stone benches before the dais, where the dust has been disturbed. He walked over to the place and touched the stone, listening to the faint echoes of the mage's thoughts and he heard what he suspected he might, chaos and anger intertwined.

He sat down in the place where the mage had sat, for it was as good a place as any in this place that now only harbored memories and he wept, for he now knew that the god Kroma was gone and he knew that the god, who now inhabited the body of a king, had killed him. Worse, he had stolen his life, his power, his name, his very essence, which was even more heinous than murder alone and he knew that such an act would not be without repercussions. After a time, he rose from the bench and walked through a side passage to the temple of Mara, where he paused for a moment and lamented that her temple had also fallen to disuse, even in the city that bore her name. He pushed open the door to the passage that led to the next temple, that of Kenra, the god of shadows, secrets and death and he was not surprised to see that this temple was also layered with dust, forgotten by those who once openly worshiped at the altar of chaos and destruction.

Next, he made his way through another passage that led to the temple of Stroma. He walked to the center of the chamber and bent down on one knee, placing his hand on the symbol embedded in the floor, then he gazed up at the ornate glass ceiling that opened to the sky above. The glass was dirty and years of dust and soot from the city had darkened the view, but the light still shone through. He looked around the temple and saw a few signs that some had visited it and he closed his eyes and felt the faint vibration of the power that still remained, far weaker than it once was, but slowly returning.

He rose and walked through the next passage to the temple of the Lady and, upon opening the door, he could not help but smile. Where the other temples lay empty, dusty and desolate, the temple of the Lady was vibrant and full of life. He was both amused and pleased to find a fountain at its center, bubbling gently over into a pool of clear water, from which grew an endless array of flowering vines that flourished under the pale light shining through the frosted glass of the ceiling above. He closed his eyes and felt the flow of power in the temple and realized there was magic at work in this place. He opened his eyes again and saw the temple empty, covered in dust like the others and knew that this was what those who did not honor the Lady would see, an illusion of desolation, missing the truth that the temple and the power of the Lady was fully alive and growing.

He stepped over to the pool at the center of the temple and touched the water with his fingertips then lowered his hand into it. It too held a power, different from that of the Lady, but he was pleased to discover that its energy remained strong at its depths even though the surface was noticeably muted. He lifted his hand from the pool and took a deep breath then reached out with his power, subtle and barely noticeable, like a wisp of cloud in the sky and he felt the world. One god destroyed, one in hiding, one still lost, one in plain sight, and one pretending to be another, and whose folly could destroy them all.

Before leaving the temple, he plucked a flower from one of the vines and placed it in the pool. It floated in small circles, pushed gently by the current and a gentle breeze blew through the temple and the flower stopped, held in place by the air that surrounded it. He smiled and touched his hand to the edge of the fountain and let his power flow through the stone to the floor beneath it, where another symbol lay hidden, a perfect circle, the mark of air, the mark of the Lady, its power ensuring that the water of the fountain continued to flow. Glad of what he had discovered, he walked to the entrance of the temple and into the light of the day.

There, at the center of the large square, towering over the others was a tall, stone structure, the new temple of the god who called himself the one god, while claiming to be Kroma, the god of virtue. It was a contradiction and yet it was a truth, as much as any disguise carried truth beneath it, and he wondered if the god, in his lust for power, even knew who he really was anymore. Perhaps it was time to remind him, he thought, and he began to gather his power but he stopped himself. It was too soon to take such action, and it would accomplish little except to alert the god to his presence. There was much to be done if the god was to be stopped, and there were ways to bring about his downfall, other magics, older powers from a distant age, when the gods had battled one another. There was much to be done, indeed.

He was about to depart when he sensed someone approaching, a mage dressed in black, but different from the others, for the faint line of power that reached out to him from the temple of the one god was incomplete. As the mage drew near, he recognized him underneath the guise he wore, a bit of magic he found to be very clever, and he wondered if perhaps it might be better to reveal himself to a select few.

A lone figure, wrapped in rough cloth robes, walked across the sand that burned hot under the blazing sun. It had been days since she had left the lands of her home, the muddy swamps and dense forests she had known. At first she had liked the heat of the desert, the hot days and the cool nights, but she quickly discovered that places of water were few and far between. If it were not for her natural instincts she would not have been able to find the hidden nooks and buried pools where the life sustaining liquid could be found, but even then what she found was not enough and she soon began to suffer with pangs of thirst that overwhelmed the pangs of hunger she discovered in this desolate place.

Lexi stumbled over a ridge in the sand and fell to her knees then slumped to the ground. As she lay on the hot sand, she felt like crying but the tears would not come. She had only wanted to go somewhere far away from her home, from her mother who barely acknowledged her and from her brother who despised her, and both of them hating her for what she had done. She had succeeded in that at least, she thought, as she felt her consciousness begin to slip. She was far away from their anger and far away from anyone who would hurt her and from anyone she might harm. Maybe her brother was right, that she was nothing more than a worm, and she felt like it was probably for the best that she should dry up and turn to dust, so she closed her eyes and let herself drift upon the sea of sand.

She awoke to the feeling of something nudging her in the ribs. It happened again but she was too tired to move, even to look and see what it was. She felt her neck being pulled as her head was lifted, then her face landed heavily on the ground. A moment later, she felt herself being picked up from the ground and then laid on a flat surface. Her head was tilted up, and cool liquid dripped into her dry lips, running between her sharp, pointed teeth and onto her tongue. Her throat moved on its own as the flow of liquid increased and she swallowed, feeling a soothing sensation fill her body. Her head was released, more gently this time, and she lay back, slipping once again into darkness.

She did not know how much time had passed when she heard the voices.

"What is it?" asked one.

"I think it is one of the lizard man," said another, "of the swamp people from the east."

"It looks like a female," said the first.

She felt her robes being opened.

"I believe you may be right," said the other. "Let us make sure of it."

She felt a hand slide between her legs.

"Yes, it is female."

Lexi felt the hand touch her. She hissed and her eyes snapped open. She could not see but she tried to stop them, to push them away, but she discovered that she could not move either. Her eyes began to adjust and she discovered that she was tied to a wooden post inside the back of a covered wagon, her arms and ankles bound behind her on either side of the thick block of wood that was the support piece for the wagon's covering.

"Be careful," said the first.

Lexi hissed again and slowly her cloudy vision sharpened. There were two of them, wearing long cloaks, with cloth wrapped around their faces. They took a few steps away from her, then slowly they returned. Lexi realized they were speaking a strange language, one she had never heard before, but she found that she could understand their words, which did not surprise her, for the mage who had instructed her in the ways of the world had told her it was one of her gifts.

"Do not touch me," she said in words they could understand.

"It can speak!" said the first man.

"I am not an it," Lexi told him. "Let me go."

"And if we let you go, what will you do? You will try to eat us," the other man said. "I have heard of your kind. Eaters of women and children, you are."

"I will eat you if you do not let me go," Lexi threatened.

"See," said the first man. "That is not a way to gain our trust.

"She is an animal, an eater of people," said the other.

"I think you are correct. Should we kill it?"

"Not yet. Maybe it can be useful to us. Maybe we can sell it. Maybe it can fight," said the other man. "Can you fight?"

"I don't want to fight," Lexi said.

"I do not ask if you wanted to fight. I ask if you can fight."

"I don't want to fight anyone."

"I think it can fight," said the first man.

"Yes," said the other. "We will make it fight. It looks strong."

He reached out a hand toward her and Lexi snapped at him with her sharp teeth. The man jumped back but he laughed at her from behind the cloth wrappings that covered his face. The two men left her in the back of the covered wagon and she felt it begin to move. They had left her robes open and she wanted to pull them closed, but she was bound firmly to the heavy block of wood and, as weakened from exhaustion, hunger and thirst as she was, and tied in such an awkward position, there was no way for her to escape.

*****

Draxis ordered his Darga forces forward toward the town. They had easily disposed of the pathetic Kandaran riders who had intercepted them, ripping them from their horses and killing the beasts. After letting his warriors feast on the horses, they continued on and were now in sight of their target. On a hill above the town, guarded by a high, stone wall, stood a modest castle and Draxis could see the townspeople fleeing toward it. Let them run, he thought, it would do them little good. He had seen how the mages could blast the stone and he knew there were three of the black robes accompanying the regular Xallan troops who followed behind the thousands of Darga at his command.

One of his Darga subordinates, named Meznak, whose scales were shades of blue and purple, approached.

"Lord Draxis," he hissed. "The warriors want some sport with the Kandarans. When will you reward us with slaves? Our women think the Kandaran men might prove amusing pets, and the men are becoming lustful from the blood smells."

"When the crown city has fallen, Meznak," Draxis said. "Then you will be given an entire town to watch over. Perhaps even this one. Until then, we must show the Xallan regulars that we are soldiers, worthy of respect."

"I see how they look at Darga," Meznak said. "They do not wish to fight next to us, they see us as animals."

"Then let us prove that we are not," Draxis suggested, though it bothered him as well that Cerric kept the Darga forces separate from the other troops. "The Darga people will claim great honor in this war, but we must be patient, for it has only just begun."

"Do we attack now?"

"Not yet," Draxis said, sensing something new in the forest. "Call a halt."

"Halt, Darga," Meznak hissed to one of the nearest Darga warriors, who passed the order to the next one in line. Like a reptilian wave, the line of warriors stopped just at the edge of the trees outside the town as a group of Kandaran riders rode into view. A horn sounded and, with his keen eyes, Draxis saw another group of riders emerge from the castle and ride through the city toward the force that had just arrived.

"We wait," Draxis hissed and Meznak passed the message to the many rows of eager Darga.

Atop the walls of the castle, Duke Kaledra watched as just over a hundred of his men rode out to join the reinforcements. He turned to the mage, a small and unassuming fellow named Henton.

"I could only hold them until reinforcements arrived, however the remainder of my soldiers remain loyal to me," he explained.

"Clearly they do not fear you enough," Henton said. "I will inform my brethren of their betrayal and your weakness."

"They are a hundred men. I still have two hundred guards in these castle walls and another three thousand armed soldiers in the forest, awaiting my command."

"I will advise the Xallan commanders of this," the mage said. "If you serve them well, they might be willing to forgive your insolence."

"I have your guarantees that the townspeople will not be harmed?" Kaledra was not pleased with the way things were turning out. He had explained to his troops that the arrangement with the Xallan invaders was all or nothing, that if any of them broke ranks it could endanger the rest. Still, just over a hundred had gone, selfishly choosing to betray the decision of their lord and endanger the lives of the people.

"I will also advise the Xallan commanders that we have discussed such a possibility."

Henton stepped away and transformed into small, grey bird that leapt from the battlements and flew out over the town toward the trees.

"Damn," Kaledra swore. A short while ago, the mage had clearly assured him that the people of the town and both he and his family would be spared.

At the edge of the town, Boric dismounted and began unstrapping his heavy war axe from the saddle of a second horse that had carried it. Even though Borica was a large man, the axe looked far too large for him to carry but he lifted it easily from the horse and hefted it in one hand. The sword hanging at his waist seemed like a toothpick in comparison to it and a number of the soldiers who had never seen him wield the giant weapon before were awestruck. They were even more surprised when the Duke took a step forward and his body began to change.

Boric's arms and legs thickened and grew longer and his face took on a reptilian look as he turned into something that was not quite human. Had the soldiers of Kandara already encountered the Darga, they might have thought that Boric had become one of the lizardmen but he was something different, larger and more fearsome. The horses shifted on their hooves nervously as they sensed the change, but their training held.

"Soldiers of Kandara," Boric growled through teeth that had become sharper and with a hint of smoke issuing forth from his mouth. "I am your Duke and sworn protector of the people of Kandara. Fear not, for you now witness but one portion of power of the House of Akandar, the noble line that has protected the people of these lands for countless generations."

"Duke Boric," said one of the men, "Are you one of the lizard men?"

"Bah. Lizard men," Boric scoffed. "Do not insult me. You speak of the Darga and I can sense them waiting just beyond those trees. They are but a shadow of the ancient power of Kandara, and they were banished long ago. Be warned though, the Darga are fierce and it will take all your might to fight them, yet they are nothing compared to the strength of Akandar."

"Sir Duke, over a hundred fighters come to join us from Kaledra," another soldier said. Boric turned and looked at the castle walls behind them.

"What of the rest?"

One of Kaledra's soldiers approached. She wore black leather armor reinforced with steel and had a sword and a dagger at her belt. Boric's sharp eyes immediately noticed the ring on her finger, with its green stone and knew her to be a Ranger.

"Kaledra has made a deal with the Xallans, sir Duke," she said. "He ordered us to stand down, but we disobeyed. On behalf of those who have come with me, I hope we are deserving of pardon."

"You are pardoned," Boric said. "And Kaledra will be stripped of his title the moment the King hears about this."

"Do the Rangers know about what is happening here?" he asked.

"They do, sir Duke," the woman replied.

"Good. Can we expect any assistance?"

"That I do not know. Word has been sent. Beyond that, all I have to offer are my blades."

"There," Borric gestured with his axe toward the trees. "That is where to point them. I will issue the challenge to these upstarts."

Among the trees, Draxis only half heard what the mage, Henton was telling him, for his attention was focused on the man with the large axe who had transforming into something else. The man's shape was almost like a Darga, except much larger and more powerful. Draxis felt a quiver in his stomach, the same feeling he had experienced when his sister had looked at him with the deadly eyes of a predator not so long ago. He now understood the feeling for what it was, for one of the mages had explained it to him. It was fear, but instead of cowering away the way so many of the Kandaran people did when his warriors advanced, Draxis found that he enjoyed the excitement of it. The man with the axe looked dangerous and he itched at the chance to do battle with one so fierce. Draxis also wondered about the man's transformation, and how he was able to change his shape, but he would have to ask one of the mages about it later, for the battle was about to begin.

The mage named Henton repeated whatever he had been saying about the people of the town and the soldiers of this Duke Kaledra.

"He is a traitor," Draxis said. "He will die like the rest."

"As you wish, Lord Draxis," the mage said and withdrew. "But might I suggest preserving the Duke and his family. They could prove useful hostages."

"Meznak," Draxis called to his subordinate. "Tell the Darga they may have their fun with anyone who hides inside the palace, except Kaledra and his kin. You may have a hundred of the townspeople to play with as well, but leave the rest. We have no use for broken slaves."

"Yes, Lord Draxis," he hissed and passed the word.

The large man with the giant axe roared into the forest and his voice shook the trees. Now was the time. He gave the word to Meznak and the Darga leapt forward almost at once. Draxis, drew his own heavy sword and leapt from the trees, racing straight toward the largest enemy.