Forge of the Mindslayers: Blade of the Flame Book 2 (30 page)

“The air I took in was as clear and sweet as any I had ever breathed, and what’s more, the gaseous fumes no longer stung my eyes. I had hoped as much, since the saltwater hadn’t affected our vision when we fought alongside the locathah. Confident that the pebbles worked, I passed one out to every crewmember, including Erdis. Keeping a pebble stashed under one’s tongue made speech difficult, but since we’d been proceeding in silence so far, I hoped this wouldn’t prove much of a drawback. Thus we continued onward. Eventually the tunnel broadened and we saw a glowing green light ahead of us. I deactivated my light-stones, and we proceeded with cautious excitement toward the source of the verdant glow.

“We rounded a final bend and the tunnel opened into a vast cavern. Immediately we saw the source of the green light: both the cavern’s stalactites and stalagmites were coated with some form of luminescent substance, a mold or perhaps some form of moss. Whatever it was, while its light wasn’t bright as day, it was sufficient to illuminate the entire cavern—and most importantly, the cavern’s sole occupant—a huge green dragon.

“Despite the pebble in my mouth, I found myself holding my breath at the sight of the awesome beast. The magnificent creature lay curled up on the cavern floor, head resting on its tail, eyes closed, greenish vapor curling forth from both its nostrils and the corners of its mouth. Even asleep, the beast exuded an almost palpable aura of power, and I was so awed by the dragon’s sheer presence that I didn’t notice what Erdis did. He leaned close to my ear, so close his lips almost touched my flesh, and whispered, ‘No hoard.’ Aside from the green dragon—and us, of course—the cavern was empty. While I’m sure that Erdis felt disappointed that there was no treasure, I later came to understand that he was more concerned because of how strange it was for the dragon not to have some kind of hoard. It was the one constant in all the tales about the beasts I’d ever heard.
For reasons known only to themselves, dragons have a need, a compulsion almost, to surround themselves with treasure, but this dragon had none.

“Then another mystery soon revealed itself. We didn’t notice at first, for the air in the cave was hazy from the proliferation of fumes wafting forth from the dragon’s snout, but the longer we stood there, the more we came to realize that the creature was wounded, terribly so. The wings folded against its back were shredded, their bones twisted and broken. Iridescent scales had been torn away in numerous places, exposing raw bloody flesh beneath. Fractured ribs jutted out from the creature’s sides, and jagged fragments of bone protruded from its shattered limbs. We might’ve thought the dragon dead if not for its breathing, and even that we now realized was labored and irregular.

“Once more Erdis leaned close to my ear and whispered, ‘This beast has come here to die. We should leave it in peace.’ We might have done so, too, except the dragon chose that moment to shift its position. It didn’t move much, merely lifted its head off its tail, stretched its neck, and then settled its head on its front feet, eyes closed the entire time, but the movement was enough to reveal that the dragon wasn’t entirely bereft of treasure, for we now saw that around its neck hung a golden chain, and dangling on the end of it—”

“Was the dragonhead.” Asenka nodded at Tresslar’s wand.

“Yes. We were at least a hundred feet away from the dragon, but as soon as I saw the dragonhead, I could sense the mystic power emanating from it. The magic was strong, more so than anything I had come across in my young life. Erdis saw the dragonhead as well as I, and he turned to me and raised a questioning eyebrow. I understood exactly what he was asking me: Is the dragonhead valuable? Not in a monetary sense, for even if it were the most precious of rare artifacts, Erdis wouldn’t risk his life and the lives of his crew to obtain a single object,
but a
magic
object … that was a different story. I looked at him and nodded.

“A sly smile spread across Erdis’s face as he turned back to examine the dragon. He pointed to me then two more of the crew. The message was clear: we three were to follow; the others were to remain behind. Erdis began moving toward the dragon, I came next, and the other two followed behind me. We went slowly and cautiously, for while the dragon appeared to be on the verge of death, still it
was
a dragon and not to be taken lightly. I don’t know how long it took us to cross the cavern floor and reach the dragon. It seemed like hours, but I’m sure it took much less than that. Close to the dragon, the air was thick with greenish vapor, and if it hadn’t been for the breathing pebbles under our tongues we would’ve died long before reaching the beast. When we had closed to within three yards of the creature, Erdis motioned for us to halt. Once again he leaned closed to my ear and whispered.

“‘No blood,’ he said. For a moment I didn’t understand what Erdis meant, then I realized that the floor around the dragon was spotless. Though the creature was grievously wounded and its injuries were clearly wet with blood, the dragon wasn’t actually
bleeding
. That is to say, blood did not seep from its wounds to spill onto the floor. At first I thought the beast might be some manner of undead thing, but its sides moved in and out as it breathed, vapor curled from its nostrils, and when it had moved earlier, it motion wasn’t awkward and jerky like that of an undead creature, but rather smooth and natural, despite its wounds. Only magic of an extremely high order could be responsible for such a miraculous enchantment, and I looked at the golden dragonhead hanging from the beast’s neck with newfound awe. A split-second later I realized that if we removed the dragonhead, there was a very good chance that the green dragon would no longer be protected against the progression
of time, and its wounds would begin bleeding and death would soon come to claim it.

“I wanted to tell Erdis these things, but I was afraid to speak aloud and wake the dragon, so I hesitated, and in that moment, Erdis—sword gripped tight—crept up to the dragon’s side and reached out for the golden dragonhead with his free hand. How he intended to get the object off the chain, I don’t know. For at that instant, the dragon opened its eyes, or rather, I should say eye, for its left was nothing but a hollow, bloody socket.

“Erdis took several steps backward, but before he could do anything to defend himself, the dragon lifted its head, opened its mouth and released a blast of poison green gas that rolled over the four us like a cloud of thick, emerald fog. The vaporous cloud lingered for a moment before beginning to dissipate, and when the dragon saw that none of us had fallen, it spoke.

“‘I see that you have come prepared. Not that it matters, for all you’ve done is ensure yourselves a more grisly, though equally swift, demise.’

“Waves of fear pounded into me with each word, and if I hadn’t been so completely consumed by terror, I would’ve turned and fled screaming for the cavern’s exit. I understood then that I had experienced my first taste of dragonfear.

“When it finished speaking, the dragon rose onto all four feet, wincing in pain as it did so. Whatever the spell that kept its wounds from bleeding, it obviously didn’t relieve the pain they caused. The creature drew its head back as if it were a serpent preparing to strike. Half of its teeth were either gone or reduced to broken nubs, but it still had more than enough left in its huge maw to slay with. As its one-eyed gaze was focused intently on Erdis, there was no doubt about whom it intended to kill first.

“The need for silence was long past, and I fought past my dragonfear to shout, ‘Cut the dragonhead from the chain!’

“Erdis didn’t respond, but as the dragon lunged, Erdis sidestepped, gripped his sword with both hands, and swung his blade at the golden object dangling from the chain around the dragon’s neck. The strike was well aimed and severed the link holding the dragonhead to the chain. The object fell to the cavern floor. An instant later the dragon stiffened and let out a deafening roar of agony. As if some sort of internal dam had burst within the creature, blood gushed from its numerous wounds. Those of us closest to the dragon fled, as much from a sudden intense surge of dragonfear as to avoid the beast’s death throes, but we needn’t have bothered, for after releasing a single bellow of pain, the dragon slumped to the cavern floor and lay motionless. The dragonfear that had taken hold of us, Erdis included, subsided, and we stopped running and turned back to gaze upon the dying creature. I say dying, for though the beast did not move, its one good eye remained half open, and tiny curls of green vapor wafted from its nostrils.

“The dragon’s right front claw twitched, its talons lightly scratching against the stone upon which it lay. At first I thought it was trying to get up, but then I saw the golden dragonhead lay less than ten feet from the claw, and I knew the beast wished to reclaim its magic talisman in order to save its life. Overwhelmed with sudden pity for the dragon, I stepped forward, intending to help it, but Erdis put a hand on my shoulder to stop me. I looked at him, and though he gazed at me with understanding, still he didn’t release me, and I didn’t try to break free. Instead, I turned back to look at the dragon. The streams of blood that had gushed from its wounds only seconds before had slowed to mere trickles, and I knew the dragon didn’t have much time left.

“The beast spoke then. Its voice no longer echoed like thunder through the cavern, but came out instead as a soft rumble so quiet I had to strain to hear it.

“‘For more than twenty-six hundred years I have lain in this cavern, with only my pain for company,’ the dragon said. ‘The Amahau kept me alive all that time—much as I wish it hadn’t—but now its work is finished. The Gatherer is yours now. Use it wisely.’

“I understood that the Amahau and the Gatherer were both names for the golden dragonhead, and though I knew this was hardly the time to quiz the dragon about the object, my artificer’s curiosity was burning to learn more about the magical artifact, but before I could ask any questions, Erdis asked one of his own. “‘What is your name?’

“‘I am … Paganus.’

The dragon’s eye closed then, and a last rattling breath escaped its scaly lips. After nearly three millennia—if the beast had been telling the truth—death had finally claimed it.”

Tresslar fell silent after that and gazed out upon the sea. Asenka looked at the dragonhead—the Amahau—with newfound awe.

“What happened after that?” she asked.

Tresslar didn’t respond right away, and she thought he hadn’t heard her or that perhaps he had and merely intended to ignore her question, but then the artificer spoke once more.

“We left. I took the dragonhead, since as ship’s artificer I was best equipped to handle it, and we made our way back to the
Seastar
. The return journey wasn’t without its difficulties … after all, it
was
Trebaz Sinara, but all of us made it to the ship more or less intact, and we set sail. I began experimenting with the Amahau to learn its capabilities, and eventually I discovered how to use it to absorb and store magic. I affixed it to the end of this wand, and that’s the end of the story.”

Asenka very much doubted that last statement, but she sensed Tresslar didn’t want to speak more about Erdis Cai or the crew of the
Seastar
, so she decided to ask something else. “Did
you ever learn anything about the Amahau’s origins or what the wounded dragon was doing hiding in the cavern for so long?”

Tresslar shook his head. “To be honest, I was never much of a scholar, but after Erdis and the rest of the crew … retired, I ended up working on Dreadhold. Because so many of the criminals incarcerated on Dreadhold possessed mystical abilities to one degree or another, the prison had a rather extensive research library for the artificers’ use. From time to time I would visit the library to see what I could find about the Amahau or about a green dragon named Paganus, but I found only the most oblique references and very few of those. To this day, more than forty years later, I don’t know where the Amahau came from or the full extent of its power.”

Asenka gazed upon the golden dragonhead, its ruby eyes and crystalline teeth, and realized she was in the presence of a great mystery. After a time, she said, “Maybe it’s better that you don’t know more than you do.”

“I’ve often thought the same,” Tresslar replied.

They both fell silent after that and stood at the railing, side by side, watching the waves as the
Zephyr
sped across the water toward Perhata.

Inside the obsidian sarcophagus, Makala lay in darkness. The coffin’s power insulated her from the effects of sea travel, so much so that she had no awareness that the ship was even moving. She wasn’t asleep, at least not in the way that mortals understood the term. Just as vampires existed in a shadowy nether region between the worlds of the dead and the living, when resting, they hovered in a state between awareness and unconsciousness. The closest mortals could come to this experience was the delirium that accompanied a dangerously high fever. Makala’s mind
drifted in this ethereal twilight, images and sensations coming unbidden and leaving only distorted, fragmented memories of their visit upon departing.