The Chronicles of Dragon Collection (Series 1 Omnibus, Books 1-10) (50 page)

CHAPTER 26

The elves in the room had resolve. They weren’t easily rattled or surprised. They weren’t without passion or personality, either, but they were quick minded.

Brows lifted. Mouths sighed. The expressions on their faces were unforgettable.

Bayzog sat on the dais, holding his head.

Shum was the only one who didn’t change at all.

“Are you certain about this?” Laedorn said, frowning.

It bothered me. Laedorn always featured a pleasant smile. Nothing ever bothered him. Not a hundred charging orcs. Not a thousand. But this did.

I stared at the Ocular of Orray.

It was brilliant. Beautiful. Pure as the face of an elven maiden. It hummed. Twinkled. Stirred the bones under my scales.

My dragon heart thumped in my chest. “No,” I said. “I’m not.”

I stepped onto the dais alongside Bayzog and patted his shoulder.

His eyes looked up at me. Pleading.
Do it, Dragon. Do it.

I could feel the warmth of the Ocular.

Its glow caressed my scales. Warm. Inviting. A mother. An old friend.

My eyes began to water. The closer I went, the more my stomach turned. A struggle brewed within me. Pride. Vanity. Arrogance. Power. They clashed with all that was right within me. What was left?

An image of my father formed in my mind. Patient. Powerful. Kind.

“Do it,” I said.

The elves encircled me. One twitched his slender fingers. The pendant floated from its station and dropped over my neck. Someone was holding my hands. My arms. Others muttered incantations. Soft. Strong. Melodious chanting.

I closed my eyes. Exhaled. Let go.

Warmth coated me from head to toe. Every hair tingled on my head. My legs. My arms. My chest. The mystic power soaked in, washing me from the inside out. I squeezed my eyes shut.

The light was blinding through my lids.

I heard voices. Ancient. Wise. In languages no man had ever heard.

Cleansing energy raced between my feet and my heart. My heart thundered in my chest. Something deep inside me was being dug out. Strong. Dark. Like a tick made of moorite.

I started to shake.

“What’s happening?” Bayzog cried out.

I slung one elf from my arm. Then another. I let out an ear-splitting roar.

Zzzzzzt!

The light of the Ocular died. It floated from my neck, back onto the pedestal.

I fell to my knees. A shaking leaf. A snake’s rattle. My mind a cloud in the air. Time passed. Faces drifted in and out.

“Dragon, Dragon,” Laedorn said, jostling my shoulder. “Can you hear me?”

“Huh?” I had a funny taste in my mouth. Unpleasant was more like it. “Yes, yes, Laedorn. I can hear just fine.”

They were tending the elves I’d slung into the wall.

Bayzog stood alongside Shum, staring.

I stood up, gently pushed Laedorn aside and extended my arms. My black dragon arms were as beautiful as ever. Claws still as sharp as knives. I felt my face.

“Anything happen?” I asked.

Laedorn eyed me from head to toe. “Nothing at all that I can see. It seems either you’re still cursed or you were never cursed at all. I believe it’s the latter, Nath Dragon.”

I hid my smile. I was elated. But what should I say?

“I felt something, though. Old wounds being mended.” I feigned a sigh. “I am disappointed. I really thought this would work. Even though―and don’t tell Brenwar this―I was scared at first.” I patted Laedorn on the shoulder. “I don’t think I’m cursed. I think I am the cure. Thank you for trying, Laedorn.”

With a thoughtful expression on his face, he squeezed my hand that rested on his shoulder.

“It was our pleasure, Dragon. And I wouldn’t speak of this to the others,” Laedorn said to everyone. “We prefer that the rumors of the Ocular of Orray being lost remain so. It is a closely guarded secret. Come, they’ll show you out.”

I shuffled by Shum and Bayzog, head down, hiding the golden glimmer in my eyes.

***

Back at the Place of Meet, Bayzog separated himself from the others in his mind.

The others talked, partially explaining where they’d been. But it was clear enough. They planned their trek to find Sansla Libor the Roamer King.

The Ocular of Orray wasn’t mentioned. It bothered him that he couldn’t speak of it to Sasha. What if she asked? What would he say? Wizards were masters of the partly true story. But he couldn’t deceive the one he loved.

“Bayzog.” Laedorn approached, alone. A solemn look in his eyes. “What do you think?”

Bayzog said, “I think Dragon is glad he isn’t cured. I think he wanted it that way.”

Laedorn looked over his shoulder where the others gathered. Dragon was laughing. Joking. All eyes were upon him. Even those of the elven troubadours and maidens.

“I share your thoughts, Bayzog. And I wonder if the Ocular could cure him and he didn’t let it. The council certainly hoped that it would. This news that it didn’t will be dreadful.” Laedorn shook his head. “Dreadful, indeed.”

“Why do you say so? What do they know? What do they suspect?”

“Some of us were still around for the last dragon war. I was younger then. But many saw the black dragons. Nath makes them uneasy. Nalzambor is in unrest. We were hoping to prevent something that might not be preventable.”

“Are you saying war is inevitable?” Bayzog said.

“You are as much a great historian as you are a wizard. What do you think?”

“I think I’d better keep a close eye on him.”

Laedorn looked hard into his eyes. “I think we all better do that.” Laedorn slipped a bracelet over Bayzog’s wrist.

“What this for?”

“Keep me posted, Bayzog.” Laedorn turned to walk away. “I wish you all the fortune in Nalzambor.”

CHAPTER 27

The ride out of the Elven Lands was quiet. Steady. A soft rain accompanied us after the Elven Guard departed. For some reason I felt happy, but the others’ expressions weren’t so bright.

Shum was determined to find Sansla Libor.

Bayzog, I could clearly see, was disappointed. He hardly even spoke to me.

Up ahead, Brenwar slowed. Allowed me to catch up. Wrung the water out of his beard.

“What’s the plan?” Brenwar asked. “We taking the boys back north or do we follow Shum, after Sansla Libor?” Brenwar’s brown eyes narrowed as he gazed after the big-boned elf. “What happened with those elves, anyway? Back in Elome. No one’s talking. And I’m not stupid, Dragon. You’re holding back something.”

He looked me in the eye. His stare hard. Penetrating.

I couldn’t lie to Brenwar. But I could keep a secret. I could tell part of the truth. Not all.

“I’ve agreed to help Shum find his king for now. Bring him back to the elves for trial.” I looked away and rode on. “My problems will just have to wait until later.”

Brenwar came right after me. “Am I to understand we no longer search for this Ocular? That’s all we talked about on the way here!”

“Plans change,” I said. “It can’t be all about me, you know. Now keep your voice down.”

Brenwar harrumphed. “What do ye mean, keep my voice down?”

“Just do. I don’t want to have a group discussion about it, if you don’t mind. I just want to ride. Find Sansla. Save some dragons along the way. It’s bound to be a long journey.”

“Most journeys are—pah—when you don’t know where you’re going,” he said. “And you, Dragon, don’t know where you’re going. And I know yer hiding something. I can feel it in my bones.” He rode off toward Shum. Far enough ahead where I could barely see him in the fog and rolling mist.

Ben and Garrison rode up alongside me, excited looks on their faces.

“Look at this, Dragon,” Ben said. He had a horned rabbit skewered on a stick. “Snared the both of them we did. Just like you taught me. Like I taught Garrison.”

Garrison had another one.

“Somebody’s going to eat well tonight,” I said, “and those pelts are worth a week’s pay, I bet. Each, I’d say.”

“Told you,” Garrison said. “Say, what’s wrong with Brenwar? Does he always get mad at everything you say?”

I laughed. “That’s a good observation, Garrison, but you’ll get used to it.”

“Are all dwarves like that?” Garrison asked.

“Some more so,” I said, “but most not nearly so bad.”

Garrison shifted in his saddle. Eyeing me. Catching my eyes, then looking away.

“Is there something else you wanted to ask?”

The young Legionnaire brushed his bangs from his forehead. Wiped the water from his face.

“Who’s Sansla Libor?”

“Yes, Dragon,” Ben said. “Tell us about that?”

I didn’t see the harm in telling Ben and Garrison about it. They’d need to be prepared for such things in case he showed up again. But I wasn’t going to tell them the part about him being the Roamer King.

“He’s a monster.”

“What kind of monster?” Ben said.

“Give me a moment. I just started.”

Garrison hit Ben in the shoulder. Motioned for me to continue.

“Ahem. A winged ape. Bigger than me. Fast as a cat and powerful as an ogre,” I said. “It drops out of the sky as quiet as rain. Snatches its prey up like an eagle does. Sweeps them away, never to be seen again. I faced it twice. Took my lumps, I did. But the next time I face it,” I held out my claws, “I’ll break it.”

We rode on. The rain was a drizzle now. Silent until someone spoke again. It was Garrison.

“What do the elves want it for?”

“Murder,” I said.

“It killed elves?” Ben said.

“That and other things. And we have to stop it before it kills again.”

“Well, I’m ready,” Ben said, sticking out his chest.

“You’re going home,” I said, bothered. “It’s back to the Legionnaires where you belong, Ben. This mission’s dangerous enough already.”

“What? Really?” Ben said. “It’s only been a week. I have a month and I can handle myself just fine already. Think about it, Dragon. I’ve survived fights with both draykis and ettins.”

“And horned rabbits,” I said, laughing.

“Draykis,” Garrison said. “What’s a draykis?”

“Sort of like a lizard man, but more like a dragon,” Ben said. “Right, Dragon?”

“Close enough,” I said. Ben and Garrison were starting to bother me. I didn’t want them around, but it was going to take some convincing. “But honestly, Ben, this journey might take months, years maybe. You might be an old man before we even find him. If we find him.”

“But I want to stay with you, Dragon. I want to travel. Adventure. I’m ready. You know I am.”

He was ready. But he still wasn’t coming.

“Oh,” Garrison said, turning his horse around.

“Where you going?” Ben asked.

“There’s another snare I forgot to check back there. I’ll be right back,” he said, riding off.

“Want me to come along?” Ben yelled after his friend.

I grabbed his shoulder. “He’ll be fine. Let him go. Besides, I need to work on that hard head of yours. You’re going back, Ben. No choice.”

“But what about Sasha?” he said. “She’s human too.”

He made a good point, but Sasha wasn’t my problem. Not that she was a problem, but that was up to Bayzog. I did find it strange that he let her travel with him at all. Especially as protective as he was.

“She a sorceress, Ben. She can live longer. You can’t do that, can you?”

He frowned. “No.”

“And she’s not a Legionnaire either, is she?”

Still frowning, head down, he rode away.

I felt bad for him. I really did. But it was the right thing.

***

Garrison drifted back, out of sight, taking a spot in a sparse grove of turning trees and falling leaves. He hopped out of his saddle, checked his surroundings, and procured a small figurine from one of his pouches.

It was a robed, bald man carved out of wood. An evil look in its eyes.

He rubbed it between his hands, faster and faster. His hands glowed. Became hot. He dropped it to the ground.

“Sheesh!” He rubbed his smoking hands in the dirt. Gritted his teeth. “Hate doing this.”

An image formed over the figurine. A man-sized shadow. Almost as real as his nose. Dark eyes encircled pupils that burned like fire.

Garrison kneeled down. Bowed. Rose up a hair.

“High Cleric Kryzak,” he said, “I have news.”

The image wavered in the wind, then stiffened. The voice was strong. He could feel it.

“Share, soldier, share,” Kryzak said, “What business had they in the Elven Lands? We could not communicate with you there.”

“My lord, they sought aid to find Sansla Libor. He’s cursed and seeks a cure. Nath Dragon does too.”

“Are you certain of what you report?” Kryzak said, his image coming closer.

Garrison broke into a cold sweat. He’d seen what the war cleric did to those who failed.

“I’m certain,” he said. “I’ve picked up on what they’ve tried to keep hidden. My ears,” he said, rubbing a small metal earring on his lobe, “are picking up lots of things thanks to this enchanted jewel.”

“Tell me more,” the dark voice said.

“They sought an item. The Ocular of Orray. It heals. Removes curses and disease, they say. The elves search for a winged ape. White. Powerful. He is the Roamer King, Sansla Libor. Nath Dragon sought to remove his black scales but does not talk of it now.” He caught his breath. “He seems content.”

“I see,” the shadow said, rubbing his chin. “And what of you, soldier?”

“He sends us back toward Quintuklen.”

“Hmmm,” Kryzak said, “journey back to where you started. Convince Nath Dragon to follow. If needed, I will assist you. Worry naught about the others. I’ll take care of them when the time comes.”

Garrison bowed again. “As you wish, my lord. I’ll not let the Clerics of Barnabus down.”

The image faded. The glow of the figurine went out.

He picked it up and stuffed it into his pouch. Stuck his boot in the stirrup and boosted himself up. “This will be interesting.”

He wondered what Kryzak had in mind for Dragon.
Death. Torture. Mutilation.
He’d heard about Nath Dragon much in his life. His parents were servants of Barnabus. It was all he’d ever known. He had been raised to hate the dragons. But he hid it well. Unlike his parents, he wasn’t deft in magic, but he had a clever tongue. A simplistic, nonthreatening demeanor. It made him an excellent spy, and he liked it.
How I enjoy messing with people. Pulling rugs and dragons out from underneath them.

He rode with a sly smile under his nose until he got there. This was the greatest mission ever.