Scourge of the Dragons (3 page)

“Who is this?” Alandra asked.

“Wrotan saved us from the dungeons and
killed Corin in the process. His adopted father was an old friend
of mine. You can trust him.”

“He killed Corin? We are all as good as dead
if we stay with him. Torin won’t rest until his brother is
avenged.”

“He put up a decent fight, but it wasn’t
something I couldn’t handle. I doubt he’ll do any serious avenging
anytime soon,” Wrotan said.

“What have you two gotten yourselves into?”
Hadrin asked as he turned to his father and Erlkan.

“Not now, we need to get to the Citadel of
the Night. Even with Wrotan, Alandra, and her soldiers, we are not
safe here,” Obrin replied.

The elf Captain sighed as she nodded. There
was no denying the potential danger they would be facing if the
rest of the elves loyal to the Empress were to find them. Wrotan
kept his hand on the hilt of his sword as they exited from the
woods. There was no sign of anyone following, but that could change
at any time. The Citadel of the Night was atop one of the taller
mountains within the evening realms. By the hunter’s estimation, it
would take a few days just to reach the base of the mountain. He
fell in behind the Prince as they set off toward their destination.
Alandra and her warriors hesitated a moment before following the
others. Wrotan was unsure whether or not they could be fully
trusted. He couldn’t help but feel that it was dangerous to bring
their opponent’s niece along.

*

Finrul patted the sun dragon on the head. He
could see the bewilderment in the majestic creature’s eyes.
Melisandre had contacted the magician as soon as the scourge had
started to affect the dragon. He been fortunate enough to have seen
how the night dragons reacted to the scourge, but it did little to
help him with the sun dragons. Their reaction to the scourge was
unpredictable and, at times, dangerous. Many of the lesser sun
dragons had been significantly weakened. The Empress’ theory that
the scourge was created by the night elves to bring down the sun
dragons seemed to fit well with the situation. Finrul always tried
to stay out of any squabbles between the elves, but if the night
elves were really sabotaging the sun elves he would have no choice
but to side with the sun elves. It would be a shift from the usual
rivalries among elves, but not completely unheard of. The magician
sighed as he looked down at the dragon. All of his attempts to
reverse the spread of the scourge had failed.

“Any news?” Melisandre asked as she
approached.

“Nothing at all. They are still getting the
negative effects of the scourge and it continues to spread. I’ve
done everything I can and, much like with the night dragons, it has
had no success,” he replied.

“We must be missing something. Is it
possible they enlisted the help of a human?”

“I cannot tell for certain, but I would not
be surprised. The humans that have embraced magic have done so in
such different ways than the elves. We elves do not need to worry
about our longevity as they do. It is possible that, in seeking a
longer life, they unlocked some of the secrets of death.”

“Are the humans capable of such a
thing?”

“There is a wide gap between what some
humans deem acceptable and what elves see as an abomination. I
cannot guarantee that this is a human driven scourge, but it is
certainly not elven in nature.”

The Empress nodded before leaving. Her
visits were often short and full of questions. At times, Finrul
found it rather difficult to answer all her queries. She had a
thirst for power, yet it seemed tempered by a thirst for knowledge.
Her ambitions were far greater than those of the common elf. Finrul
rarely questioned his allegiance to her, but when he did, what he
saw often frightened him. She was the sort that would kill to get
her way. Her intentions had always been good, but her methods could
be questionable. The mage dismissed the thoughts. He was an
impartial observer, nothing more. His information could prove
valuable to the elves as a whole.

“I’ve come to take over, brother,” Fenzik
said as he approached.

“That isn’t necessary, I’ve got several good
hours left in me yet,” Finrul replied.

“Then let us work together. We have a knack
for solving things together. If only father could see us now.”

“Can I ask you a question, brother?”

“Of course, you know that you always
can.”

“Have the Empress’ actions of late seemed
worrisome to you?” Finrul asked.

“Yes, I’ve seen it as well. Her theory is a
sound one, but the idea of Obrin and Erlkan uniting against her has
her on edge,” Fenzik replied.

“It feels good to know that I am not the
only one who sees it.”

“Indeed, do you think we should discuss it
with her?”

“Yes, but only out of concern. If she is
acting this way on purpose, then it is not our place to
meddle.”

*

Wrotan bent down and examined the tracks.
There was no doubt that they were made by wolves. He could
recognize their paw prints in nearly any terrain. The shadows
danced on the edge of camp as the fire swayed to and fro. It was
almost mesmerizing in a way. The scourged tendrils were unaffected
by the fire, but it kept them warm and kept the animals away.
Wrotan redirected his focus to a nearby plant that had been
infected with the scourge. He rubbed one of the leaves between his
fingers. The feel was much the same as an unscourged leaf, but
there was something about it that made him want to investigate
further. Where the normal infection would render crops inedible and
plants damaged or destroyed, the scourge seemed to have the
opposite effect on the health of the plant.

“This is most strange,” he said as Hadrin
approached.

“What is it?” The Prince asked.

“The plants, they are not affected by the
scourge like they should be. You see, they seem to grow larger due
to the tendrils. One would expect them to be weakened or dying, but
that is not the case. Changed, yes. Dying, no.”

“But the elves are dying, how can it have a
different impact on different living things?”

“I do not fully understand the scourge, but
it seems to be different from the scourge you carry. These plants
are stronger, you and your people are weaker.”

Their conversation was interrupted by a low
growl. Wrotan’s hand dropped to his sword as he turned toward where
the sound had originated. Hadrin let out a quiet shriek and fled
back toward camp. The hunter shook his head before returning his
attention back to the beast. A massive wolf stepped out of the
woods with a snarl. Wrotan’s eyes were immediately drawn to the
deep black substance that seemed to permeate the wolf’s fur. The
scourge had grown the wolf beyond its normal size and had taken
away any fear that the creature might have had for elf or human.
There was little doubt that this wolf was the leader of a pack. The
hunter had faced off against wolves on multiple occasions and one
of their moves was to draw out an opponent while other members of
the pack struck from behind. He drew his sword in his right hand
and a hunting knife in his left hand.

“They’re much larger than the average wolf
and we can expect them to be smarter as well. We will need to act
fast before we get surrounded,” he said to nobody in
particular.

Alandra snapped out of the daze and joined
Wrotan. The wolf pack leader rushed forward only to be driven back
by the hunter’s expert use of the knife. He continued to use the
knife to force the wolf to defend. Unless he was mistaken, the
wolves would need their leader initiating the attack for it to be
as much of a success as they needed. He continued his attack until
the storm surrounded him. The six wolves came to the aid of their
pack leader. Alandra did what should could to stop their attacks,
but eventually the wolves would wear her down as well. Wrotan and
the pack leader circled one another, each trying to gain the upper
hand. The hunter used both his weapons in conjunction to attempt to
take down the wolf leader. His knife attacks failed to hit his
opponent, but he had managed to graze the wolf’s side with his
sword. The pack leader pulled back ever so slightly.

“They aren’t attacking anymore, why not?”
Wrotan asked as he stood side by side with Alandra.

“I don’t know, they seem different now,” she
replied.

“It is the scourge. They can recognize it
within me, much like I can recognize it within them. We may be able
to use this to our advantage,” Obrin said.

“What do you need from us?” Erlkan
asked.

“Do not make them feel threatened. They
think of us as an extension of their pack now. We cannot tell them
where we are going, but I do believe they will see us safely out of
their territory.”

The wolf pack leader stood tall and looked
at Wrotan. He gave the wolf a shallow bow and it returned the
sentiment. The hunter glanced over at Alandra and saw that she was
as surprised as he was. He had encountered wolves on a consistent
basis back home, but never had he seen one act in such a way. King
Obrin motioned for the others to follow him as he began to head
into forest. Wrotan opened his mouth to say something, but decided
against it. He grabbed a piece of wood from his pack and wrapped it
in a soaked cloth before dipping it in the fire. Alandra put out
the fire before falling in line behind him. They walked through the
night until they reached the edge of the forest. The morning light
brought with it a view of the mountains in the distance.

Kade pulled the glove over his left hand
with a frown. The small spot that had appeared on the back of his
hand had grown over the past week. He knew nothing of its origin or
nature, only that it caused his hand to tense up once or twice a
day. So far, no one had noticed it. There was little doubt that
Julian and Amber would take notice of his glove. He took off at a
sprint, eager to visit the city proper. His mother called out for
him to be back before they closed the gate and he raised his arm so
that she would know he heard. The outskirts of Reddington stretched
out for what seemed to the young man to be miles and miles. Julian
and Amber had agreed to meet him at the crossroads just outside the
eastern gate. He slowed down as he spotted the two of them talking
at the crossroads. The other two waved him over when they spotted
him.

“The festival is in two weeks, you know what
that means don’t you?” Julian asked as he approached.

“Sure do. Merchants will be testing their
wares, cooks will be testing their food, bards will be testing
their songs, and the storytellers will be priming us all for their
epic tales,” Kade replied.

“Nice fashion statement,” Amber said as she
pointed to the glove.

“Your sarcasm is not appreciated.”

She laughed as she started toward the city.
Julian and Kade followed quickly behind. Their clothes pegged them
as peasants, but this was one of the few times of year that
everyone treated each other equally. As always, Amber got more
attention than the other two. Her long blonde hair was a rarity in
the borderlands. Most people had dark hair like Julian and Kade.
Some kept it short as Kade did and others preferred it long like
Julian and Amber. The streets closer to the city were far more
crowded than those near the crossroads. People were excited for the
coming festival. The three made their way to the gate and were
waved in by the guards. Things were even more crowded inside the
city walls. Julian took the lead and cut down a nearby alley. The
other two followed as he wove his way through the back alleys,
eventually coming out next to their favorite inn.

“Welcome to the Drunken Swine! Best ale, oh,
just you three,” the innkeeper said as they came in the door.

“Hello to you too, Winston,” Amber said.

“The usual?”

“Let’s make it a little more special today.
You got any cheese today?” Julian asked as he pulled a gold coin
out of his pocket.

“Do I have any cheese? What do I look like,
boy? Course I got cheese. I’ll bring ya a platter. Choose any table
ya like,” Winston said.

Kade looked to Amber to see if she knew
anything about Julian’s gold coin, but she just shrugged. They
walked fast to catch up to him as he chose a table near the center
of the room. The Drunken Swine had a variety of entertainment
consisting of jugglers, dancers, storytellers, bards, and sometimes
even actors. Julian somehow managed to get one of the best tables
every time they visited the inn. Kade took a seat between the two
of them and looked around the room for the night’s entertainers.
One of the storytellers spotted the three of them and made his way
over to their table. He was an older man with a patchy beard and
unkempt graying hair.

“Mind if I join you youngsters?” He
asked.

“Not at all,” Julian answered.

“A thousand kindnesses upon you. My name is
Timus. I’ve traveled far and wide to come here and tell my tales.
The three of you seem the sort that would enjoy hearing about them,
yes?”

“Sure, why not?” Amber looked to the others
for an answer.

“Before you launch into your legends, do you
have any information on more recent happenings?” Julian asked as he
produced a silver from his pouch.

“Not a whole lot to talk about here in the
borderlands. Heard some nasty rumors about the elves though. I’ve
got some information on the dwarves as well. Can’t forget the four
kingdoms either. Which would you like to hear about first?”

“The elves,” Kade said before the others
could answer.

“Near as I can tell, those moon elves or
what have you, they’re cursed or so the tale goes. You see, two
weeks ago, a merchant friend of mine went to trade for elven silk.
Finest silk in the lands by far. He arrives at those blasted
evening realms and the elf that came to meet him was covered in
some sort of dark purple, I don’t know what it was. My friend
swears up and down the seas that it isn’t spreadable, but I’ve kept
at a distance just in case he starts to show signs of it. Anyhow,
he says that every elf he saw had this to some degree or another.
Not sure if it is a disease or something entirely different.”