The Dragon Knight's Curse (The Dragon Knight Series Book 2) (20 page)

“Or that you happen to be good at it.”

“I’d master any vocation if it led to a single night with a beauty, preferably as tall as I am, but those are hard to find when one is over six feet.”

A few minutes after speaking with Aristos, Lilly had noticed my sudden talkative spurt and asked what I was doing. She laughed when I told her Aristos’ reason for helping my father.

“You really had to ask him why he was here? He’s as shallow as he appears. Still, there’s something sweet about him, isn’t there?”

“That’s not the word I’d use, but sure, why not?”

“So were you going to ask me about your father as well?”

“Sure, why not?”

“You know, I’ve never thought much about it. I kind of just fell in with his crew when he became captain. I respected him as soon as he got rid of the true reprobates on board. It showed me he wouldn’t suffer any fools that might get us all killed. I may not be as physically or magically useful as the others, but I do my part to keep everyone full and comfortable.”

“You don’t strike me as someone who wanted to be a pirate.”

“I still don’t count myself as one. Never even stabbed anyone. I’ve knocked a few on their asses, but never with the intent to kill.”

“But what made you join a pirate crew in the first place?”

“My brother. I idolized him when I was a wee lass and followed him wherever he went. We ended up working for the last captain. I soon started acting more like his mother than a sister. That attitude just kind of spread to everyone else.”

“Where is he now? Is he…”

“Dead? No, he was one of the reprobates Lorcan dismissed. Best thing that ever happened to him. He was too old for anyone else to take him in, so he’s back home. Last I heard, he found an old widow to leech off of. He’ll be well off for the rest of his life once she croaks, well, if he doesn’t end up gambling it all away. I’ll hopefully be back with him before he does something as stupid as that.”

“You mean after you help Lorcan?”

“Probably later than that. I say I still have a good five years left out in the open sea, whether that be with your father or whoever takes over afterward. That won’t be you, will it? A dragon knight pirate sounds like the king of both the sea and air.”

“The sea isn’t my thing.”

“Too bad. Hey, you’re not planning on asking Yang anything about his past, are you?”

“You’re tone implies that isn’t a good idea.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t be afraid of him or anything, it’s only that he doesn’t open up to us about it, so I doubt you’ll get much. And I’m certain his answer to why he’s here would be something like-” She cleared her throat. With a mannish tone, she said, ‘Lorcan good man, so I help.’”

“I have no idea whether that’s a good impression or not.”

“I don’t either. Another piece of advice, I wouldn’t mention anything about children to Menalcus. He has a young daughter, but the mother won’t let him see her. The big guy starts bawling the second he thinks about her. I would try to keep as much water as possible inside his body.”

Lilly’s advice compelled me to save the rest of my inquiries for a later date.

With energy being a precious resource out in the desert, my training eliminated sparring sessions and focused on manipulating dragon fire. I had progressed in my dragon flame enough to make it last twice as long as before and with a stronger burn. Smaller stones dissolved completely under these more intense conditions. Casting it on heavier stones gave the flame either a more vibrant light or a bigger ear-ringing blast.

When adding more heat to my day became intolerable, I went to practicing my illusion spell, which I had neglected for the past several weeks. It seemed my sealed corruption benefited this spell the best, since I found I could keep it together for up to half a minute and send it as far as twenty yards before it distorted out of existence. The tribal guides didn’t like it when I cast the extra copy of me, going as far as breaking up my illusion with their bare hands.

Fardin found their reaction fascinating and asked them in their long-winded language why they were offended by the spell. The answer had something to do with believing the spell infused a bit of one’s soul into the mirror-mirage, so it was something to be done sparingly. I didn’t stop practicing it, but I respected their view enough to keep my mystic clone away from their sight.

While some days were harder than others, we by and large kept a steady pace as we zigzagged between known oases and tribal encampments. It was on the twenty-first day of the expedition that the first sign we had truly entered unmapped territory came within sight.

Below a fifty foot tall cliff grew an oasis that hugged the shade of the rock wall for five hundred yards. A few trickles of water leaked out from fissures on the wall and filled a pair of little narrow ponds. Neither the cliff nor the oasis appeared on any known map. Enforcing the idea that we had stumbled on another realm altogether was the absence of any human activity, meaning even the enterprising barbarians hadn’t found this piece of tranquility yet.

Supporting Fardin’s theory that this place had recently germinated was the fact that few plants were tall enough to give us shade. Our grateful animals ate and slurped up everything they could in the half day we rested there. Giving all the scholars further pause was when Yallie’cor spotted the partial skull of a cow a few hundred yards away from the oasis. This fascinated Ghevont enough to pick it up for a closer examination. I asked my scholar what his fascination with the skull was about.

“Well, have you seen any bovine around?”

“No, but don’t the tribes breed them?”

“Not many, and they’d be much closer to the coasts where grasses would be more inclined to grow. Why would they bring a beast this far out into the Hadarii?”

“It can’t be a stray?”

“It’s possible, but what are the chances one walked this kind of distance without dying sooner or being caught by a hungry tribe? What’s also interesting is that the skull shows obvious signs of abuse. It’s only half of one, after all. Where’s the rest of it? It isn’t that old and brittle. It might have even been using the oasis to live. This would mean something killed it while it was living healthily enough. It’s a strange set of circumstances—an undiscovered oasis and the half-skull of an animal that simply isn’t seen this far inland…”

“You have a theory?”

“I have many, too many for your tastes. It would help if we find more bones like these, or none at all.”

“My theory is that your theory won’t be so pleasant if we find more battered skulls.”

“And I can confirm such an outlook.”

In anticipation of finding a ruin, the guides and scouting teams spread farther out from the main group. For a solid six days we found nothing but orangish sand dunes and skeletal shrubs. Then, shortly after an early morning sandstorm—the brunt of which was held back by air spells working together to create a clear bubble around the huddled group—a hazy silhouette of a tree line materialized. Sure enough, the large oasis turned out to be no mirage. It held a little spring at its center and the shade generously bestowed a comparatively cool place to sit.

The haven provided both a nice respite and a base to return to after an excursion, but that was tempered by the discovery of more animals bones scattered about the immediate region. The bony pieces of cows, goats, and ponies laid half-buried in the sand, indicating they were recent leavings. These lost beasts compounded another mystery. The last week was devoid of any humans other than ourselves. Fardin expected to see members of a tribe that had years before informed him of the ruins we sought, but the uninhabited oasis seemed to confirm that they no longer occupied the area. 

I didn’t believe the Advent would go out of their way to eliminate a tribe to keep Kitiri’mor secret. Such an act would simply invite other tribes into the territory. Ghevont shared my view.

As he examined a goat vertebra, the scholar expounded his view by saying, “They likely didn’t eliminate any tribe, but I’m sure they have a hand in this. The dead beasts have all suffered violent deaths… Something is out here.”

“So the Advent find Kitiri’mor and then leave either a spell or creature to deter anyone from getting too close.”

“The likeliest scenario. Whether the Advent force them to or not, I speculate that the animals are brought here by tribesmen as a kind of offering.”

“At least this means we’re getting close to something important. Tell everyone to keep their guards up and that we need two more volunteers for the night watches.”

Helping to keep an eye out for danger at night was Kara. The zymoni’s broad toes abetted Lucetta’s partner in the sand, allowing her to keep her swiftness as she sprinted over the dunes. Kara’s eyes also saw well at night, though the heat was hard on her thin skin, making her unusable in the day. Two nights after moving out from the oasis, Kara came up to her master and licked her hand. Lucetta waved me over. Without waiting for me to catch up, she followed Kara into the dusty darkness.

I jogged after them, going about three hundred yards before I caught up to Lucetta and Kara on top of a small dune. Sticking out from the bottom of the dune’s base was a crumbled corner of a mudbrick wall. I threw down a dragon stone and its ignited light revealed cubed stones poking out the sandy ground for fifty yards in front of us. We went back and awoke Fardin to tell him the news. His ecstatic shout awakened all else who slumbered. The enchanter, who had lost twenty pounds in pure sweat so far, ambled impatiently toward the site, forcing those already up to gather around him.

A cry exactly like his first left his flabby throat when he saw the wall below him. He then practically rolled to the base thirty feet down and stared agape at the signs of ancient human life. One of his shaking hands caressed the lumpy brick as though it were the firm breast of a young woman. He then had to take his red handkerchief to wipe away sweat that had not come from an outward heat.

“How will we know whether this is Kitiri’mor or your mystery town?” I asked him.

“By digging, my boy!”

Camp was repositioned by the dune’s base. A few casters, which included my father, used gusts of wind and earth-moving spells to start clearing away the sand around the wall and bigger stones. Others shed light with either spell or torch. I stayed part of the guard team.

When the sun came up, its light bared a wall that had collapsed in places before a more completed section was uncovered a few yards later. The base of the barricade was deeper than I first fathomed. The casters had to dig thirty-five feet before reaching the bedrock that supported the sand. For its height, it was surprising to see how thin the wall was. Of course, this might have followed the double-wall style, where the first barrier acted more as a slowing influence as opposed to the main army stopper farther in.

By the time the shadows became long again, the diggers had exposed several flat foundations of stone found mostly within the defensive wall. Their small size and consistent distance from one another implied an uncluttered settlement. The enchanter soon supported my conclusion.

“I suspect this isn’t Kitiri’mor,” said Fardin. “The capital would be densely populated with larger collections of buildings better suited for civilians. We must be in a fort town once occupied by a garrison of soldiers.”

“Then where would Kitiri’mor be from here?” asked Lorcan.

“The Howling Dunes are a two days journey north from here. Most of my colleagues believe the lost capital can be found in the middle of this waterless wasteland, but I suspect it lies at its southern edge. If my estimations are anywhere close to being correct, then a two days journey northeast will have us stumbling upon the great ruins.”

“Would you be okay with us moving out in the morning?” I asked him.

“There’s only one objective that would get me to leave this priceless ruin, and that would be to find the very heart of Old Voreen herself. We leave as soon as the first sleeper awakens!”

The first sleeper awoke three hours before dawn. Just as the light made the area visible for more than twenty yards, we saw the Howling Dunes were closer than Fardin expected. They rose less than ten miles distant, looking more like a boundless mountain range than a dune field. Despite their name, the winds that were said to whistle between the tall dune peaks did not make themselves known to us. Rather than entering the loose hills of sand right away, Fardin suggested we head eastward along their relatively stable edge. He wanted to wait for some kind of sign that pointed us to a ruin or easier path through the merciless core of the Hadarii.

Half a day after we started the trek the guides in the front of the convoy called up the enchanter with excited shouts in their language. Both Fardin and I happened to be on camels, so he spurred his stubborn creature forward while I dismounted mine and went on foot. On catching up with the front of the convoy, I saw what interested the tribesmen. At their feet was a stretch of mostly sand free ground about eighty feet wide. Its width varied as the fractured land meandered to the south and north in river-like fashion. The waterless stream cut through the massive dunes in the north, creating a deep gorge between two sand-mountains.

Fardin squeaked a mousy cry when his camel came up beside me. “Impossible,” he said under his breath. “Kitiri should have dried up hundreds of years ago.”

“Uh, it is dried up,” said the presumptive leader of the mercenaries, a grizzled sell sword named Malu.

“Yes, obviously, but the keyword here is
hundreds
. If Kitiri had shriveled away a mere five years ago, then the desert would have swallowed up any hints of its existence by now, but here’s the splintered ground and an enduring valley in plain sight. No, this river was flowing as recently as last year, perhaps sooner. Whatever keeps it trickling is of no concern to us at the moment. The gods have placed a path of luck and we must take it! Onward men!”

Going between the shadow of the dunes sunk the temperature by ten or fifteen degrees, though I found myself favoring the heat over the unnerving impediments of sand towering on either side of us. I felt as though the echo of a dropped pebble could cause a landslide and have it bury us for all eternity. The narrowness of the trench converted soft breezes into denser drafts, but it wasn’t anything too bracing. Our caravan advanced steadily under these amended environmental conditions, rarely straying from a northeasterly direction over the next day and a half.

Some mercenaries discovered an item of note in their forward patrol—a five foot tall block of limestone sticking out from a dune to our right. A little digging exposed more blocks stacked together or laying nearby. Several more were uncovered on the other side of the desiccated riverbed. The scholars believed the blocks were once part of columns or arches lining the ancient river. I didn’t have to tell him, but I still instructed Ghevont to begin paying close attention to our place on the map. Since it would be difficult to get lost in a trench, we continued navigating the empty river long into the night. There were sometimes branching river imprints we passed by, but they looked too small to lead anywhere of consequence.

After a short break and seeing a dozen more evidences of limestone structures, the river bended sharply northward. A large dune appeared to have supplanted the river, but the genesis of light showed that the waterway continued under a hundred foot wide by thirty foot high stone tunnel. Thinking the arched passageway couldn’t have been too long, we elected to travel within it.

Penetrating just ten feet inside it had us smelling the clammy residue of fresh water. The ground was even a tiny bit spongy. It was easy to guess that the ancient builders were attempting to stop the river from evaporating in the increasing heat they were experiencing. The fact Kitiri still sometimes flowed after all these centuries told that their efforts weren’t wholly in vain.

The center of the tunnel had numerous intact pillars helping to support the roof, but time and the elements had eroded several to the point where they had fallen. These weak points in the walls and ceiling allowed dribbles of sand to pour in. I couldn’t imagine the tunnel being able to take the weight of the dune for many more decades. Lining some sections of the walls were glowing blue mushrooms. These fungi normally grew in deep caves, something I was already familiar with. The fungi had the scholars theorizing that at least some of the water had emerged from an aquifer. The blushing mushrooms weren’t the only organisms in the tunnel.

Kara had gone beyond the rim of light that came from the group’s spells and torches, and one of her barks attracted Lucetta to her. Those of us who had joined the piratess saw Kara’s ears pinned back and staring intently at a lump in the ground. When Ghevont gave it a little more light, the lump turned into the rippled body of a plump, worm-like creature. The light nor our presence jarred it from its spot, and the bugs crawling and buzzing around it confirmed its nonliving state.

Ghevont knelt beside the eight foot long beast, his little sphere of light giving everyone the visual details of the worm. The ripple effect its skin produced came from the groups of gill-like frills rounding much of its amber-colored body. Ghevont’s fingers lifted one of the flexible gills to show more rough skin underneath, implying that they were used to aid its underground locomotion rather than breathing. Unlike an Orda worm, this creature had an obvious tail that narrowed significantly in the last two feet of its body.

Its other unique feature was its foot long beak, a brown mandible that felt much like a smooth human tooth. The dense material was thickest at its mouth and tapered into a blunted point at the end. The beak was ajar, revealing the three separate segments that made it up. Ghevont opened one of these segments to allow us to peer into a rounded mouth rimmed with hundreds of stringy feelers. The back of the deep entrance ended with heavy flaps of skin, presumably preventing anything it didn’t want to eat from going down its throat, if it had one.

With the help of three other men, Ghevont rolled the beast over. He endeavored to find anything that might have been used for eyes, nostrils, or ears, but its mouth appeared to be the only orifice that allowed external stimulus to enter, at least when alive. Its current deadness permitted little insects to burrow into the worm’s tough hide, creating hundreds of incisions for them to eat the tastier entrails and lay their eggs. It was through these cuts that I noted the worm’s dark green blood.

“A chukurn,” said Aranath. “They are not of this realm, though their home does look much like this desert. Also, they become much larger than this dead youth, big enough to swallow a mammoth. Try not to make so much noise or you’ll attract an adult.”

The scholars already knew something of this creature, so I didn’t have to alert everyone of our potential enemies or how to lure them. Moreover, Fardin mentioned the many names the creatures went by, which included sand-eaters, desert whales, dune-dwellers, and twenty others. Ghevont was disappointed that the corpse was too big to bring with us and that he had no time to dissect it properly. He had to settle for cutting off thin samples of its body and putting the pieces in his little vials to test on later. With that done, the extra muted expedition trekked on.

I didn’t count how many hours passed, but we knew the sun was still high in the sky when we finally detected a bright light at the end of the tunnel. Despite the light our eyes received from spell and torch, they still required a moment’s adjustment when we stepped back into the sizzling desert rays. The first sight my squinted eyes saw were two rows of pillars extending out from the tunnel. They once supported a now collapsed limestone roof that had once helped to continue the shielding shade over the river. These pillars went on for half a mile before another dune-covered tunnel began.

To my flanks were more lofty dunes, but they did not spread all the way in. I quickly saw why this place was not as heavily bombarded as everywhere else. The sand hills were stopped from a full incursion by a sixty foot wall encircling us. Some segments of this wall had fallen to allow fringes of a dune to infiltrate the city, but enough of it stayed intact to remain a semi-successful obstacle.

Airborne sand still clung to buildings and formed miniature sand dunes around them, but a closer inspection of the ruins didn’t seem impossible once we implemented a few sand-clearing spells. The most intriguing desert-laden structure, however, appeared to be too entombed to have anything but a small army attempt to unearth it. Only a tilting tower could be seen sticking up at the top of this dune.

When Fardin consumed the breadth of this jarring sight, he fell on his stubby knees and thanked every god from every land in Orda. He even sacrificed precious water in the biggest single tear I had ever seen. His assistants shared in his joy by embracing each other and their enchanter master. Many of the mercenaries and pirates gave jubilant shouts that had to be reined in after a few loud moments by those who remembered a threat loomed.

The first item of business on my side of things was to join the scout team in climbing up a slope to examine the surrounding area. As expected, though no less disconcerting, an orange ocean with no break in it dominated the landscape. I could walk fifty yards away from the brink and never know an entire city lied at the bottom of the depression. The winds were picking as I made my way back down to find shade. These whistling breezes helped form little twisters of dust that sometimes crossed into the dead city.

The first item of business for the scholars was to learn the general layout of the ruins and find a good piece of it to begin a proper excavation. Their main goal was to find anything with writing on it. Without a reliable supply of food for our animals, we had only two days to seek out this discovery before we had to move back to the oasis. If Fardin had not found something worthwhile to glean information from, then the plan was to return for another pair of days before taking the long road back to an unfallen civilization.

In the interest of finding something useful as quickly as possible, some in the group took a less academic approach in their search for artifacts. The enchanter didn’t reprimand them too much, as long as they kept away from the spots he deemed most interesting. They also promised to let him inspect everything they found before claiming it for themselves. These untidier excavations helped to reveal the bark of dead trees hiding under the sand. There were even a handful still standing, but most of these looked ready to crumble away as soon as a scorpion sneezed too close to them.

While I too didn’t want to add an extra two days to the expedition, my lack of wind and earth spells made me useless in the excavation process. I would have experimented using small explosive stones to clear away pockets of sand, but even if it weren’t for the chukurn risk, that didn’t strike me as the greatest of ideas. So when I wasn’t on guard duty, I simply traversed the ruins and gathered any piece of dead wood that could keep a fire alive.

It was late evening when somebody uncovered lettering etched on the stone ground. This particular white stone was lining the river and the small amount of writing looked to be a short edict. I didn’t need Fardin to tell me that the language was not in the Old Voreen
Summertide
was written in. The supposed language of Old Voreen was a dense mixture of condensed words that flowed into one another and which was used extensively in the current Voreen’s early regime.

On the other hand, the carved words at our feet were spaced far apart and had a few images that looked to be hieroglyphic in nature. Fardin was especially excited about these little figures. He, his assistants, and Ghevont chatted nonsensically for several minutes, using technical words few sword-wielders would ever bother learning.

When Ghevont became free, which was after he acquired a rubbing of the words, I asked him, “Having fun?”

“Some form of it, yes. You’re not experiencing any amount?”

“I wish I was. Might make it a bit more bearable out here.”

“You know, in my previously sheltered life, I always imagined everyone had a natural inclination to seek out knowledge, but that doesn’t appear to be the case.”

“Most people are just concerned with getting by.”

“Yes, but ‘getting by’ can be made easier with more knowledge, no?”

“Depends on the knowledge, but that’s why civilizations have scholars. I don’t know if ‘fun’ is the way I would describe it, but I do find it interesting that Fardin’s theory could be true, at least as far as the Advent are concerned.”

“Yes, it seems their
Summertide
map was written by somebody in Voreen and passed off as something that came from the lost nation. The original author must have only been concerned with making their secret map, not about preserving real history.”

“Perhaps someone with interests in both a dead god and getting power through a fake bloodline.”

“Possibly. The differing languages also don’t exclude a connection between the old and new, it merely weakens the assumed one. It does bring to question why someone hid the map in this roundabout manner. If they knew the location of a dead god’s grave and wanted power, then why not take the grave for themselves? The diverse locations in the poem infer a well-learned, well-traveled individual who certainly could have taken advantage of such information.”

“Some people don’t actually want to handle world changing forces, Ghevont, but I suspect the reasoning and circumstances of someone who died two thousand years ago might be forever lost to us.”