She fell forward onto her stomach in the soft grass, arms caught beneath her body. Unable to move her muscles, she lay entranced, trembling in the sun’s rapture.
* * *
Anuit and Arda continued to move up the tower, Anuit following behind Arda on the stairwell. This was the paladin’s quest after all. Kaldor was her leader, not Anuit’s.
Anuit panted. Her thighs, calves, and bottom burned. Mostly, though, it was her calves. And she felt it in her chest. So many stairs. Damned wizards. They probably had quick ways to magic themselves up and down, room to room. She could too, through the darkness, if she knew where she was going. The tower was unknown, so she dared not risk shadowjumping and… it was a wizard’s tower. No telling what wards or other magical traps might be in place to foil uninvited magic users. But damn, Arda didn’t even seem to be breathing hard. She just walked up the hundreds of stairs as if it were as easy as strolling down the street to a cafe.
“Do you need to rest?” Arda asked.
“I’m sorry,” Anuit said, ashamed.
Arda didn’t respond, but stopped. She leaned against the wall. There, Anuit thought. She’s a little tired, at least.
The central stairwell started two levels above the entrance hall and audience chambers, just past the student apartments and dining hall. There was a long, uninterrupted climb to the middle levels’ classrooms, studies, and laboratories. Anuit sat on the steps, catching her breath. Her demons had followed behind them and now stopped silently in the darkness, waiting for them to continue. They stared up at her from down the stairs, saying nothing. Bryona wore her proper, high-collared blouse and dress, and her bat-like wings extended behind her.
The tip of Arda’s tail rested beside Anuit on the step. She regarded its leathery skin for a moment. It did not look like that of any creature from Ahmbren that she had seen. It reminded her of Bryona’s tail, but with no spikes, thorns, or otherwise sharp edges. Its tip twitched left and right, like a cat’s.
She looked up at the paladin, but Arda seemed lost in thought. When they had risen that morning, she had seen Arda steal some glances at her as she changed into her gown. She was used to getting those kinds of looks from men. Her heart had skipped when she noticed, but her skin prickled in discomfort. The gown itself was somewhat low-cut, and she had suddenly felt exposed. She had taken the gray cloak and put it on over the gown as shelter from such looks.
She stood. “I’m ready,” she said.
Arda nodded and they continued.
“Do we really need to check these levels?” Anuit asked. They had already wasted time combing the lower apartments, finding nothing of interest. “Why not just head to the apartments at the top?”
“If everything were good here,” Arda answered, “Kaldor would have met us by now. I’ve learned from many years of exploring ruins in the wild, it’s never good to leave something unchecked. You never know what you’ll find that gives you insight into what happened.”
Anuit nodded. It made sense, but it spent daylight.
They walked through the middle apartments. It was mostly unremarkable until they found a body. The chamber was an old bedroom. The blood in the room had dried, but its smell lingered thick in the air. The body against the wall was clearly fresh, his throat torn open.
Arda lifted his head and inspected the wound. “Vampire,” she said. She lifted the body to its feet, and then released it. Before it fell to the ground she unsheathed her sword and swung it in a clean arc, removing the head. “He would rise tonight otherwise,” she said.
Anuit nodded. She already knew this.
They checked the rest of the apartments. “No vampire,” Arda said. “The one who killed him must have moved on, unless it’s in the upper levels. This is why we take the time to search.”
“Fair enough,” Anuit conceded.
* * *
It was a longer climb to the upper apartments of the High Wizards. The stairwell finally ended and Arda stepped onto the landing.
“Let’s rest again,” she said. Anuit had done well to keep up. Arda was good for most of the climb, but after sixteen hundred steps, she was feeling it too. She bent over and placed her hands on her knees, breathing heavily.
Anuit sat on the top step, leaning back against the stone wall. “I’m guessing Kaldor isn’t here,” she said. “What do you hope to find?”
Arda looked at her for a moment, and then laughed. “You know? I don’t even know.” She panted, trying to catch her breath, and then sat facing Anuit on the top step, her back resting against the opposite wall on the landing.
Anuit stared at her. “That was a lot of stairs.” Her face was stone serious for a moment before her eyes crinkled into a gleam. Then she giggled, too.
“Yes, yes it was,” Arda said. “I think the tower’s empty. The bells chimed when we entered. I think if someone was here, they would have met us by now.”
“Or he’s watching us,” Anuit remarked. “There must be a lift somewhere. He’s probably laughing, wondering why we took the stairs.” She grinned.
Arda laughed again. “That would be amusing, wouldn’t it? Well, I still want to check. If he’s not here, maybe there’s a clue to where he might be.”
“You think he’s still alive?” Anuit asked, her face turning serious once more.
Arda nodded and closed her eyes for a moment. “I think he must be, and it’s very important we find him.”
“When we first met,” Anuit reflected, “You said he was the incarnation of Archurion.”
Arda opened her eyes again and regarded the woman. She lifted her head straight from resting against the stone. “Yes.”
“What happened to the other Archdragons?”
Arda stared at her for a moment. “You don’t know?”
“I know Klrain was defeated. That’s the only thing I know. I’ve spent most of my time working as a seamstress.”
“I’m told that Valkrage went mad and died,” Arda said. “Graelyn died too, but she somehow lives on in the seelie. I don’t completely understand that.”
“But Kaldor lives.”
“I hope so. The world could use the Gold Dragon about now.”
Anuit considered for a moment. “Yes, I suppose it could.”
The three demons silently watched them.
Arda pushed herself to her feet. “We may as well continue.” She stared for a moment at a stone carving opposite the landing. She hadn’t really looked at it before. It was a depiction of a bearded, robed man holding an open left hand with his palm to the sky. In his right hand, he held a slender wand upright.
“That’s Lorum,” Arda remarked. “The human god of wizards. One of the few gods to never grant runic magic. He wanted his followers to master their own power.”
“Huh,” remarked Anuit. “That sounds a little bit like sorcery.”
“The first sorcerers were wizards,” Arda said. “But sorcery was easier. Not everyone is wise or dedicated enough to practice magic, but anyone can make a pact with a demon.”
“Those were your people, weren’t they?” Anuit asked coldly. “Darklings?”
“A long time ago,” replied the paladin. “They were the lords of Artalon who fought back and prevented the High Elven Imperium’s genocide against humanity. But they later brought down Archurion’s wrath because of the dark magic—the sorcery—they practiced.
“Their folly destroyed the city of Artalon and the Gold Dragon sank it beneath the sea.” She turned her solid black eyes and met Anuit’s gaze. “I may bear the visible marks of ancient Artalon,” she pointed to the demons, “but you are its inheritor. I bear the price of their folly, my demon eyes, this tail, these horns on my head.” With each word, she touched her eyes, her tail, and gripped her horns with both hands for emphasis. “You know how people look at me? But you are the one who practices their arts. Kaldor is Archurion. He will know you for what you are. This is why I don’t think meeting him with your demons is a good idea.”
Anuit looked as if she
had been slapped.
Regret for her words convulsed through Arda’s stomach. She wished she could swallow them back. “I’m sorry,” the darkling said. “I know you’re not like them—”
“No, you don’t,” Anuit cut her off, her words clipped by tightened lips. “And the demons stay until we know it’s safe.”
Bryona’s serene face shifted ever so slightly into a smug hint of a grin.
“Let’s go,” Arda said quietly. “Let’s finish here and see what we find. Then we’ll figure out where we go next.”
Anuit’s face softened. “Together,” she said, and then twitched her head slightly as if startled by her own word.
“Yes,” Arda replied, and then proceeded into the tower’s upper apartments.
* * *
Anuit followed behind the paladin. Arda’s words stung. She wanted the paladin’s respect, but Arda wouldn’t see past the demons. Well, Anuit made no apologies. She was who she was, and it hadn’t been easy—no matter what Arda said about sorcery—to master her demons.
Bryona met Anuit’s eyes momentarily. The succubus shared a knowing look of confidence, very much intended to make Anuit feel like Arda was the outsider between three of them. Anuit shook her head. She knew her demons too well to be manipulated that way.
After they searched the living quarters, finding all the comforts and modest luxuries they would expect for a High Wizard, they came to the large circular library near the top. Anuit caught her breath at the sight of so many books. It reminded her of stories of the Great Library of Astiana from the old days, which had been destroyed by the Empire for having too many alternative ideas to Karanos’ religion. A large spiral of floating oak stair steps circled the perimeter of the room. Arda immediately went to the large desk at the back of the library.
Anuit looked up the stairs. There was another chamber above, filled with green light. She thought she heard something, but she wasn’t quite sure. It looked almost as if the opening was framed by a thatch of grass, but the light was too bright, making it hard to be sure of the details. She tentatively put her foot on the first floating step, testing her weight against it. It held. She looked up once more in curiosity.
“He’s not here,” Arda said. She held a scroll in her hand. “He left a note for the Order. It’s written in Kaldorite code.”
Anuit turned her attention back to the paladin. “I guess you were right. What does it say?”
“He can’t make contact with the Order through the usual means—I’m not sure what that is. I wasn’t high enough in the Order. He’s gone south, to Surafel. Any paladins who find this are to meet him there.”
“To Surafel!” Anuit exclaimed. So far away. It was the native land of her ancestors. She’d never learned how her family had come to Windbowl. “Why Surafel?”
“He doesn’t say,” Arda answered. “He says it is too dangerous to reveal his purpose in writing, even in code.” She read further. “He only says that he’ll wait until the middle of January. All Kaldorites are to meet him there. Then he goes into the desert.”
“That doesn’t leave us much time,” Anuit remarked.
“No,” Arda said. “We’ll need to get back to Tavenport as quickly as we can. How will we hire a ship?”
Anuit nodded her head towards Bryona. “I think she can be persuasive.”
“Let’s go,” Arda said.
“Not yet,” Anuit shook her head. “I want to see what’s up here.”
Arda looked at the stairs, and then nodded to Anuit. She held the scroll. “Be careful.”
“I think I hear something… someone.”
“Use your imp to check first,” Arda suggested. She bit her lip when she said that.
Anuit slowed down and realized Arda was right. No need to rush ahead of herself without knowing what was up there. She sent Belham forward and closed her eyes, seeing through the eyes of her servitor.
He flew up into a greenhouse thick with foliage. There in the middle was the naked body of an elven woman with body markings of red stripes running down her back and limbs lying on her stomach.
Belham flew closer, and Anuit sucked in her breath.
“What is it?” Arda asked.
“The elf!” Anuit exclaimed. The same elf that had come to Windbowl so long ago. The same whose life she had saved from Marta’s black magic. What had Arda said her name was? She had mentioned it on the road to Astiana. “It’s… I think it’s Aradma!”
16 - Graelyn’s Vessels
“Aradma!” Arda exclaimed. She ran past Anuit and up the stairs. The bright light in the chamber blinded her, and she tripped on the top step, falling into thick, soft grass. She waited until her eyes adjusted and then stood. The grass kept growing as she watched, slowly but visibly. She ran to the center and found Aradma laying there in the light’s focus. The growing foliage radiated outward from beneath her body, but did not cover her to conceal the sunlight from her back.
“Aradma!” Arda called to her again. Aradma’s back moved. Good, she was breathing.
Arda knelt down. Aradma’s head was turned to the side in the grass, and her luminescent eyes were open. She looked up at the paladin. Her lips moved silently.
“Are you hurt?” Arda asked. She didn’t see any wounds or blood. She started feeling for broken bones or protrusions. Aradma’s limbs were slightly trembling, rustling the grasses.
“I’m going to turn you over,” Arda said. “I need to check for wounds. What happened?”
The sides of Aradma’s face were wet with tears. Her lips moved again.
Arda leaned down and put her ear towards Aradma’s lips. “What?” She asked. “I couldn’t hear you.”
“I…” Aradma whispered. “I can’t… move. The sun… too much…”
Arda took off her brown leather duster and draped it over the elven woman, shielding her from the sun’s rays.
Aradma gasped in relief and curled herself up into a ball under the leather coat, withdrawing from the light altogether. A moment later, the vines in the diamond facets grew dense and their leaves thickened to block the sun’s light, covering the room in soothing shade.
Aradma stood, now fully clothed with a leafy gown of some sort of fabric Arda couldn’t identify. She handed the duster back to the paladin.
“Thank you,” the seelie said with relief. Her knees wobbled. “I don’t know if I would have survived until nightfall. That was intensely energizing.” Then she laughed. “My body is tingling all over underneath my skin. It tickles.” Her breathing was rapid. “Hello, Arda.” Aradma’s gaze went past Arda to the sorceress. “And… I know you. Don’t I?”
“Anuit,” the sorceress answered. “Yes.”
“You saved Seredith from possession.”
Anuit’s eyes shifted away uncomfortably. “Yes.”
“She doesn’t hate you,” Aradma said.
“Let’s go below,” Arda offered. “We can sit. There are things we must discuss.”
“Yes, I’d like that,” the seelie replied. Before they left she held out her hands and from the grasses a vine of grapes grew. She plucked three bunches, and then walked down the stairs.
* * *
Aradma laid the grapes on the desk in the library, then leaned forward on her hands. She was both exhausted and exhilarated. The sunlight had rushed through her and filled her with energy, but it had overloaded her. She had survived by dumping its excess into the plant life. When Arda covered her, she grounded the overabundance of energy by manifesting the grapes and pulling up the planet’s earthy energy to balance it out.
Arda found wooden chairs from around the room and brought them to the desk so the three of them could sit. Aradma leaned back into the chair, tilting it so it balanced on its two back legs.
“Here,” she said, handing them each a bunch of grapes. “Eat.”
She took a grape and put it in her mouth, biting into its tart skin. Sweet pulp burst over her tongue, and she swallowed its juicy flesh. Already she started to feel revitalized by the
planet’s life force that she had encapsulated within it.
“What are these?!” Arda exclaimed. “This is no ordinary grape.”
“No,” Aradma smiled. “It has the healing warmth of Ahmbren herself, thanks to the sunlight soaked into that room. It will rejuvenate you.”
Aradma took a second grape and watched the two women as they ate. She had not remarked on the demons who stood a respectful distance behind Anuit.
She knew Arda but not the sorceress. She took a moment to open her senses to them and read the music of their souls. The faerie essence within her, with all the splintered memories of dead Fae nobility, answered the song of what she saw with emotions and feelings in kind.
Arda rang clear and devoted, as she always had. Only, Arda now had dissonant undertones of guilt and disappointment. The note tones were pure as the calling of flutes. Somewhere above it all, a small happy melody had started, but almost too quiet to be noticed.
Anuit’s music was haunting and minor, with a grainy textured body as of a single note of coarse camel hair sustained over trembling violin strings. The dark tones were not unexpected, but a low bass moaning underneath surprised Aradma with how strong the darkness flowed, and how deeply buried beneath Anuit’s surface awareness it was. The top of her being floated with bright happy notes, almost too quiet to hear, like hints of things to come. They felt delicate and out of place, ready to decrescendo at any moment, but they mirrored similar melodies in Arda. Anuit’s soul music felt hollow, as if there were some instruments missing. Aradma heard echoes of the missing complimentary themes emanating from the demons behind the sorceress.
When Dragons Die- The Complete Trilogy Box Set Page 55