The Tomni'Tai Scroll (Book 1) (38 page)

“In your dreams?” Talon asked skeptically.

“Yes,” the drow responded. “In my dream you arrived here riding the magnificent gorlung like a horse. It was symbolic, of course, meant as a way for me to recognize you when you finally arrived. It helped me understand that I was looking for someone who could conquer the gorlung.”

“How could you know I have conquered it?”

The drow pointed to the small pouch hanging from Talon’s belt. “The gorlung is a beast from the Netherworld. Its magic is unlike anything on this plane of Terramyr. I can sense the fang’s presence within your bag there. I don’t know everything about it, of course, but I know enough to know that a gorlung can live nearly forever, and it is almost impossible to kill. Scores of Svetli’Tai men have tried to hunt it over the centuries. It ate most of them.” The drow sneered at the thought. “As you can imagine, I am happy to see you, but also a bit saddened by the gorlung’s death. I rather enjoyed watching it scourge the elves here.”

Talon opened the pouch and removed the tooth. “It was a mighty foe,” he admitted. “I won by lighting a fire in its mouth and removing its head.”

The drow sniggered. “Incredible,” he commented. Then he waved again and started to walk away. “Come, follow me.”

Talon sheathed his scimitar and then followed the drow. Of course Talon needed to adjust his pace to a painfully slow shuffle to accommodate the old drow, but that did not matter too much. Talon was interested to hear this creature’s tale.

As they neared the back of the cavern Talon noticed that one of the walls was lined with roots and shoots of plants from the surface above, a small hole in the floor opened up to an underground stream, a source of water and fish. “So that is how you have survived this long?” Talon observed as he pointed in the direction of the stream.

“Yes. The stream goes all the way to the sea. The fish are small, but I also eat of the roots coming in through the wall. It has been a long time that I have been down here.”

Talon let his gaze wander to the right where he noticed an incredibly large skeleton. Before he even saw the whole thing and knew what it was the drow turned to him and lifted his hand up to stop Talon.

“This is the final resting place of the black dragon,” the drow grew very solemn as he spoke. “After the last battle the mighty dragon entered into this cave with King Lemork’s remains to hide and recover, but then the Svetli’Tai arrived with their earth magic.” The drow spit on the ground then in disgust. “They shrank the passageway down so that only a humanoid could fit through, leaving only this chamber big enough for the dragon to move in. He tried for days to break through the tunnel, but the magic made it so that even his mighty claws could not tear through the rock. He was trapped.”

“How did you get here?” Talon asked.

“I was injured in the battle and had crawled into this cave myself, hoping to recover, or to at least die without the agony of an elf blade running through my gut. I had found this cave before the great dragon. I was just over there,” the drow pointed toward the far end of the chamber, “when the dragon came into the cave and then I watched helplessly as the tunnel shrank. The dragon and I tried different methods to escape. Of course, I could walk out of here freely, but I would die quickly unless I had the dragon with me. So our plan was to escape and then free our brethren and attack the Svetli’Tai and Nizhni’Tai for our revenge.” The drow extended a hand to the rock wall and leaned his weight against it and gazed downward into the floor of the stone chamber for a few moments.

“After several days, we knew there was nothing we could do. I buried my king in a small antechamber off of this chamber and began to look for ways to sustain myself and the dragon while we tried to think of ways to escape. Every so often we would try to break through the spell that binds the rocks of this cave together, but the spell never weakened. After a year I had my first vision of you, coming into the cave with the scroll and riding the gorlung. So, we conserved our strength and waited for you to come. I have waited even to this day, but the dragon died long ago. There just was not enough food to keep him alive for long, and the Svetli’Tai magic prevented him from hibernating. He died an agonizing death. It is not easy to watch a dragon starve.”

“What did you do after he perished?” Talon asked.

“I then did what I could to survive. I ate his flesh until his carcass was consumed. I continued to scout around, trying to find a way to release my brothers from their banishment. I would steal into the nearby city and search for clues, but nothing ever turned up. As the years passed, the elves forgot about the cave and the patrols stopped coming around.”

“They just forgot about you?” Talon questioned. “I find that hard to believe.”

The drow smiled. “I am a powerful wizard,” he said. “That is how I managed to survive the great final battle in the first place. After the great dragon passed on, I knew the elves would venture inside to ensure it was dead. Instead of fighting them, I chose to hide, trusting in my visions that you would eventually come.”

“An elf is nothing if not patient,” Talon commented with a nod.

“Precisely,” the drow replied. “When they arrived, I cast a spell over the cave so they could see the dead dragon, and they saw an illusion of my skeleton as well. They reported that the cave was clear, but the council decreed it off limits to elves, just to be safe.”

“And they never patrolled the area after that?”

“Oh no, of course they did. They came around a couple times a week for the next twenty years, but I maintained my spells until the patrols finally ceased.” The drow chuckled to himself and stared at the floor, seemingly remembering something. He looked up again and winked. “Occasionally a young elf or two would venture into the cave with the dream of removing the dragon’s skull. I was not strong enough to attack the city, of course, but I was more than able to take care of a couple of daring elves. After a few elves failed to return the rumors of a ‘legendary elf-eating cave troll’ began.” The drow stopped and turned a keen eye on Talon. “I didn’t eat them, mind you, but I did kill intruders of course, as a matter of self-preservation.” The drow shrugged.

“But you never thought of leaving?” Talon asked.

The drow sighed and closed his eyes. “Now I am too old to fight. So, instead I have done only as much as was necessary to conceal my existence until you arrived. You see, I have had dreams, so many dreams which gave me hope.” The old drow narrowed his beady eyes on Talon and looked the assassin up and down. “I dreamt of a man who would bring about a mighty change and right all of the wrongs which were done to us. That man is you.” The drow pointed at Talon with a feeble finger as he finished his speech. Talon felt a shiver run down his spine as he surveyed the skeleton of the once mighty dragon again. “The power of the Tomni’Tai Scroll must be used to set my brothers free.”

“I have a question,” Talon interjected. “I never understood why the scroll was named after the Tomni’Tai if the Sierri’Tai were the ones who were banished?”

“That is a long story in itself. Simply put, both the Tomni’Tai and Sierri’Tai are drow races. The Sierri’Tai had several falling outs with the Tomni’Tai and when it came time to banish my brethren, the Tomni’Tai were all too eager to help. They are the ones who fashioned the spells that banished my brothers to the Netherworld. Hence, it is called the Tomni’Tai Scroll.”

“I see,” Talon replied.

Both fell silent for a while.

“I can help you,” the drow stated at long last.

“How can you help me?” Talon asked.

“Imagine the stir that would wriggle through the city of Bluewater if I walked back through the streets openly.” The drow smiled wryly.

“What purpose would that serve? I see no benefit, and you just said you are too old to fight.”

“You see no benefit?” the drow asked in a mocking tone. “You have the scroll, but you lack the other relics. In order to find the other relics you will have to travel to Selemet. That is where they are.”

“I have already figured as much,” Talon grunted.

“Well, have you come up with a plan to get from here to there?” the drow taunted.

Talon folded his arms impatiently.

“I didn’t think so,” the drow commented. “I may not have the strength to fight on a continuing basis, but I have enough strength for one last battle.”

“You would sacrifice yourself just to create a diversion?” Talon asked.

The drow nodded. “And, perhaps I can take a few of those cursed Svetli’Tai down before I die. I do not believe they have been practicing their magic as widely since the end of the Mage Wars, therefore it will take them a while to counteract my spells.”

Talon nodded. “That is true. I have only seen the Svetli’Tai Kruks execute spells. An old elf lady told me that most of the elves were required to give up using magic a long time ago.”

“That is because the humans demanded that all magic be discontinued after the Mage Wars. The Svetli’Tai Kruks were allowed to continue practicing with the understanding that they served as the buffer to the Netherworld Gate.” The drow puffed up his chest and smiled. “I may die, but at least I will die to aid my fellow drow escape from the hell they were put into. You just make sure you open the gate.”

“Alright,” Talon agreed. “Let’s do it.”

“I have one more gift that will help you,” the old drow announced.

“What is that?” Talon asked.

The drow reached into the folds of his dark robes and produced a katana. Talon was amazed that the weapon had been concealed so well that even he had not noticed it. His bewilderment turned to admiration quickly as he studied the weapon. The scabbard was made of black, lacquered wood. The scabbard had two rings, one just below the hand-guard, and the other in the middle of the scabbard. The first ring was made of blue steel and had a demon face etched into the ring. The second ring was also made of blue steel, but it was the graven image of a dragon’s head. The scabbard end also had a blue steel cap with a winged demon face.

The hand guard on the katana was the shape of a great, serpentine dragon wrapped around the sword, providing excellent protection as well as a great visual component. Talon admired the black silk binding crisscrossed over the handle with another ring of blue steel at the middle of the handle holding yet another graven image of a dragon. The pommel was capped with a final blue steel piece forged into the shape of a dragon’s head.

“It is exquisite,” Talon whispered.

“You should see the blade,” the drow offered.

Talon handed his torch to the drow and took the sword from the drow and slowly, gently slid the katana from its scabbard. The torchlight glinted off of the clean, pure steel and illuminated the design on the blade. Talon marveled at the workmanship. The image of a long dragon swirling through clouds was carved into the very blade itself on both sides of the mune, the flat back of the katana blade. Talon took a few mock-swings with the blade and delighted in its perfect balance and weight.

“This is the most incredible weapon I have ever seen,” Talon complimented.

“That is because you hold the sword of King Lemork,” the drow replied. “I have kept it here since that day when the black dragon brought it in with him after Lemork’s death. I once thought that I would wield it to avenge my brethren, but I am too old for such things now.”

“I have no words to express what I feel at this moment,” Talon whispered reverently.

“This sword was made by the Sierri’Tai, centuries ago. Only the king of our kind has ever wielded it in battle. I think it would be fitting that our savior should wield it now.”

“What is the sword’s name?” Talon asked.

“It is called Drekk’hul in Taish. If it is translated literally into the common tongue it is rendered as ‘of the black dragon’s spine’ I believe.”

Talon paused, recalling the words Jahre had spoken. “The sword is made from a dragon’s spine?” Talon asked.

The drow shook his head. “A better translation would be ‘Son of the Black Dragon’ as the great sword was made with the aid of a dragon.”

“I see,” Talon said, relieved that this sword didn’t exactly match the description Jahre had foretold of in Medlas.

The drow tapped the blade with a long fingernail and continued. “Originally there were four such blades in existence on Terramyr. One was created for each of the four great dragons, but now the others are lost and this is the only one that remains.”

“I will wield it well on my quest to recover the Sierri’Tai,” Talon promised.

“Drekk’hul will also help you in your quest.”

Talon shot the Drow a puzzled look.

“It is imbued with magical properties. The great dragon who helped my ancestors make this blade blessed it to grant the wielder additional strength and agility. In addition, as long as you possess this blade, the Sierri’Tai are bound to protect and defend you. They will view you as their rightful ruler.”

“Well then,” Talon cut in, “when do we go?”

A smile, larger than any the drow had worn in centuries, crossed his lips and he let out a loud cackle. “Patience, my young friend, we have much to discuss.” The drow rose to his feet and beckoned for Talon to follow him again. “Come, I have some food, and then I will show you where you can rest without worrying about the elves finding you.”