Theft of Dragons (Princes of Naverstrom) (5 page)

She tossed him a gold coin. "You were going to sell me an anklet? One that will make me absolutely alluring. Which one do you think will make me the most attractive?"

"I don't need an anklet to draw my attention to your feet. Everything about you is intriguing."

Sebine felt a hot flush run over her face and she looked away from him and pretended to admire the jewels on the table. Off to the side she could see his eyes still gazing at her figure and unlike the lewd stares of the older royal men that haunted the palace, she felt alive and her heart pounded at Dakar's attention.
 

"You're making me uncomfortable," she whispered, not wanting Yaez to hear her words.

Dakar inhaled slowly as if savoring some scent. "That's what young men are supposed to do...make women uncomfortable. It's my job to make you feel that way. And from your face I can tell my effort is paying off."

He glided a finger along her arm and goose pimples formed over every inch of her body. She shivered and turned away from his hand, staring him down as if he were an opponent.

"I don't see any use for all of this. I'm a royal and you're likely to leave town tonight after the market is finished. And after Yaez reports back to the King—and he most certainly will—I doubt you'll ever want to show your face again in Trikar."

"I doubt I'll ever return." Dakar's expression darkened and he looked up at her with sad eyes. He picked up the quill and began scribbling again on the vellum.

Drazal'tan beckons me to return home. The Hakkadians send me on another mission.

Sebine found herself gasping.
How could a human visit the Elven Kingdom?
She stole the quill from him and penned a question.

How is it the elves allow you entry to their kingdom? I thought all humans were barred entry...

He smiled a mischievous smile at her, and his fingers glanced sensually along her wrist as he took the quill. This writing was a seductive game and Sebine found herself craving his touch.

The citizens of Drazal'tan would welcome someone such as yourself, someone beautiful and filled with magic, someone like myself, with one foot in the human world and the other foot in the world of elves.

Her eyes flared at the suggestion. Dakar was half-elf? And was he insinuating that her father was also elven? But her features bore no resemblance to the etchings of elven-kind she had studied in the library. How could this be? His writing interrupted her thoughts.

I've said too much... The discovery of your lineage is for you and you alone to uncover. Know this though, you are always welcome in Drazal'tan. If for any reason you need shelter, come to Yhalan and display the Ring of Galdora to the gate guards and they will grant you entry. And perhaps one day I will see you again. If the gods will this to happen.

She studied his face for a long time and calmed at the serenity in his clear eyes. He knelt down and kissed her fingers for a time until she raged at the feeling of the heat of his breath on her hands. His nostrils pinched in at his sharp inhalation and he stood, eyes narrowing at the gap between the canvas curtains. Sebine's hands felt instantly cold and she found herself missing him, not only in that moment, but also for the emptiness she was sure she would feel in the future. It was a strange and overpowering feeling.

Dakar swept aside the canvas, revealing Yaez's hard and suspicious face, tensed and ready for a fight.

"We are closed now...you may escort her home." Dakar fixed his eyes on Yaez and the two locked in a silent duel of wills. Yaez looked away first as Sebine strode by, her fingers tracing jewels and necklaces lining the silk covering. But before she left the stall she felt the same soft fingers sliding into hers, and the chill of metal.

"My gift to you. May you always wear it and think often of me."

Her eyes lingered on Dakar's while she slipped away, and in that moment she recognized doubt and sadness and a sliver of hope.

Chapter Five

NAVERSTROM HELD A special place in Tael's imagination. Malevolent, undead creatures roaming ancient halls blanketed in torch lit darkness. Heroes with swords of light raised high, casting down demons by shouting names given to them by the gods—names to command the demons and undead creatures of Naverstrom. Once the heroes conquered the inhabitants of that dark place, they ruled as kings and queens in the lands above ground. But the depths of Naverstrom were endless—no human could ever truly claim dominion over that place. The creation of evil was ceaseless and said to be connected to the source of all vile things in the world. Or so Tael's grandfather had told him in stories that scared him awake all night as a boy.

Now as Tael cringed facing a Ghoul of Naverstrom, the seeing of it was far worse than his imagination could have ever conjured. The creature was enormous and smelled of disgusting mold and rancid flesh. Its yellow eyes beamed like twin lighthouses warning sailors of danger. Master Loral took several steps away from the ghoul and unwittingly drew the beast's attention. It leaned forward and sniffed the air, its long, flappy ears wagging in the process. After it finished sampling the scents around it, the ghoul displayed many rows of razor-sharp teeth in a crazed, frothing smile.
 

Since the creature was focused completely on the wizard, Tael realized it was possible for him to sneak away. But he was too frightened to move for fear of finding the ghoul's bloodlust focused on him. The creature sidled its way over the broken rubble of the ruined square, and with a quick bob of its green head, raked long claws over the body of a fallen soldier.
What is it doing?
Tael thought, certain the ghoul would go for Master Loral, but instead it grasp the helm-clad head of the dead man and yanked hard until the head was ripped from the torso.

Gods!
Tael grimaced, feeling bile gushing up to his throat, as the creature squeezed the helm and popped the head into its mouth. The ghoul crunched the skull like rock candy, and made a sick sucking sound as it inhaled the brain. When the creature spit out the broken skull near Tael's feet, he jumped and found those terrifying eyes studying him with an intense curiosity. It lolled its head back and forth from the wizard to Tael, until it scraped over the ground and repeated the process with another body.

Each time the creature moved he tensed and gripped Balensaar, expecting the ghoul to strike. But the beast moved meticulously, purposefully, from body to body, as if savoring the slow process.
Attack already!
Tael could feel sweat drip down to the small of his back, despite the chill of the late autumn night. The wizard remained focused on the ghoul as well, crouched slightly, one hand outstretched at the creature and the other gripped the Dralden Tome. After a scan around him, Tael realized that all the bodies in the square had been desecrated by the undead creature of Naverstrom. They were next.

The ghoul shook its body like a dog trying to rid itself of fleas. It was so comical that Tael let out a small laugh before he could stop himself. The creature tilted its head in a query and narrowed its eyes in consideration of the threat that he offered. It clicked long claws on the ground and scrambled at him.

When a blast of air from the wizard hit the ghoul, the beast bent down and seemed to condense itself like a statue, resisting the gust. Memories flooded Tael's mind of his grandfather telling him that ghouls of Naverstrom naturally resist magic—likely Master Loral knew this so decided to attack using an elemental force. It didn't work.
 
The ghoul's eyes shone a sickly yellow and the wizard collapsed to the ground, the Dralden Tome falling free from his hand. Tael knew he was going to die. His grandfather was right, he never should have left the safety of the mountains.

Dying is a gift from the gods
, Tael remembered his mother saying,
Tis a journey from one dream to the next, a journey to greet loved ones lost, to see new and fascinating places, to experience the endless cycle of the universe. Never fear death...use your mind and see the tapestry of time, see the weaver and the secret working of the invisible hand. See beyond the pain and suffering of whatever insignificant thing that consumes the here and now of your life. There is a greater purpose to life, realize that, son, and let it guide you in all things.

Tears flooded down his cheeks at the memory of his mother. He could feel her so close to him as he tightened his hold over his father's sword. The ghoul advanced and Tael readied himself, surrendering to whatever fate lay in store for him, determined to fight the undead creature with courage, and hoping his dance of death would make his father proud. He brought Balensaar up and charged the beast.

As he was about to collide with the ghoul, light burst all around him—ancient runes shining brightly along the sword's edge—causing the creature to shriek in pain and scamper away in terror. Tael gazed at the sword in surprise.
Balensaar is a magical sword—a ghoul's bane—like the one the old King wielded?
Father had never mentioned anything about the blade other than it was very old and a family heirloom, and that one day Tael would inherit the sword and need to cherish it as if it were part of his body. But then again, many things in his family history were a mystery to Tael, especially the things that swirled around his grandfather's life.

The ghoul paused about fifty feet away and glanced back, squinting at the now dimmed sword, and it sniffed the ground like a hound tracking prey. It started to sidle over to where the wizard had fallen and Tael shouted and darted forward, Balensaar blazing once again as he approached the undead creature.
This is a hero's sword...the kind of sword that Grandfather talked about in legends and lore of Naverstrom.
And he possessed such a sword. The ghoul fled back into the still shimmering portal, back into the dark, fetid world where it had come, and the portal's mouth closed and swallowed it up.

Tael released a heavy sigh but noticed his shoulders and arms were still tensed from holding the sword.
You can relax now, you're still alive...the ghoul is gone.
The wizard! He turned and rushed over to where Master Loral lay and felt along his neck for a pulse. It was very weak but he was still alive, thank the gods. Some spell, perhaps? Or a curse that locked the wizard in a deep slumber... He was too heavy to carry and Tael worried about discovery from whatever remained of the King's soldiers. This would be a ridiculously difficult story to explain and likely they would never believe him. Too many innocent people were thrown in prison or some dark dungeon for little or no reason at all.

He shook the wizard and called out to him, but it was useless; nothing could wake the man. Farther north he could hear voices and the stomping of boots coming close. He hated to leave the wizard alone and undefended, but he knew he had to keep away from attention. Off to a side alley he slipped away and hid behind a crate and covered himself with a canvas tarp. The hesitant crowd peered around the corner at the broken and littered square, some wielding swords while most held wooden cudgels or axes. Gasps of horror could be heard as the crowd spotted the brutalized bodies and many covered their eyes in response.

The waiting was the hardest part for Tael, listening to the wails and crying as the citizens recognized loved ones amongst the remains of the fallen soldiers. Eventually a few ventured forward, covering their mouths as if trying to hold back the urge to vomit. It was a gruesome sight: the soldiers' blackened armor from the lightning strikes, the helms and crushed heads scattered haphazardly, and the decapitated sorcerer with the severed head, the eyes and mouth still open in a horrific expression of ultimate satisfaction. And Master Loral, to Tael's relief, was discovered by a priest dressed in the cloth of the Calathian Church.

"This one is alive!" shouted the priest, his voice trembling from the strain of the sickening scene. Several men came over and stood guard as the priest tended to the wizard. "I recognize him, he's Master Loral of the Arcanum. You there, help carry him back to the Abbey. With help from the Goddess Naria, the healers can nurse him back to health."

Tael made a silent prayer to the Goddess as well, hoping for the wizard's recovery. Exhaustion overtook him and the warmth he felt under the canvas lulled him off to sleep, despite the voices fading away into the distance.

The late morning sun shone over the rooftop and bore down on Tael, waking him with a start.
How long have I been sleeping?
He rubbed his eyes and peered over the crate at the square now cleared of bodies. Workers milled around, lifting broken stones and bricks onto carts. The southern gates were now open, and oxen pulled wagons laden with rubble out of the city. Now was the perfect time to escape. He waited until a group of people walked by and followed them through the city gates.
 

He listened to rumors being spoken of dwarves invading the city last night. Of sorcerers and their evil minions preying on the poor soldiers. A swarm of people stood near the docks along the Elden River, flapping their hands to get the attention of the dock master selling tickets. But the boat was already filled with people, livestock, and crates.