The tugging sensation happened again. The pull came from the hole, as if drawing him in. Steadying himself and looking closely into the darkness, he could make out shapes. It looked to be a large room, mostly empty. But if he focused, he could see a figure lying on a bed with another beside it. There was a strange mist floating across the figure lying on the bed.
Snatches of whispers came to him, although he could not make out the words. Concentrating harder on the two figures in the room, he could make out the other figure had scales along its arms; its mane flowed like hair rather than the hard scales Yndar had running along his back. Another dragon? But this one wasn’t quite a dragon. It had a more humanoid shape.
A gasp escaped him when the figure moved to reveal the face of the person lying on the bed. It was him! Is this what was playing out back on the material plane? He crept a little closer to the edge of the pit, hoping for a better view. The whispers grew louder and he could make out a few words. Elerbee, Sorga, wight…
Fascination at what was transpiring had him ignoring the tugging feeling so when he came back to himself he realized he was perilously close to the edge of the great pit. He moved back again, coming up against something solid.
“You should heed the call,” Yndar said.
“Do you see it, too? What is going on?”
“I do not see it, but I recognize the voice of a fellow dragon. I can hear that she calls to you. If you allow it, she can bring you home.”
“She…?” The word trailed off. Thom leaned a bit closer. Surprise at whose profile he was studying burst forth. “Mey!”
“There is power in her voice,” Yndar observed. “You should go now before the chance is lost.”
Thom hesitated briefly. “But what about you? Can you follow?” He looked up at the magnificent creature.
“No, the call is for you alone, mage.”
Mixed feelings flowed over him, not the least of which was fear. He had no idea what would happen if he stepped into that pit. The possibility that he would never awaken was foremost in his mind. But even stronger was the possibility he could be with her again. A gentle wave of calm settled around him and he smiled up at the dragon.
“Thank you, Yndar.”
Focusing all his energy on Mey and the placid whispers she spoke, he closed his eyes and took one step into the oblivion before him.
SIXTEEN
The apprentice cowered as glass vials and bottles of all kinds smashed around him, showering small pieces of glass over the room. Rekho’s temper was something one would be wise to shrink from. Every last one of the thieves he had sent to recover the mask had failed. Every one.
“Where do you find these incompetents?” he shouted at the young man. “I ask for professionals who can accomplish a simple task and this is what you give me?”
Another shower of glass and an explosion of power from the mage’s hands. If he wasn’t forced to work with these priests, he’d be out there doing the damned job himself. It would have been over a long time ago.
“Master, I must tell you that the group is now headed for Sorga. The mage who travels with them is injured and they seek the protection and help of the Sirrahn temple.”
A small sound started low in Rekho’s chest and bubbled up as a growl that he released to ease the aggravation at his crumbling plans. His gaze landed on something in the back of his makeshift laboratory. For at least the tenth time since they arrived at the Caverns he considered smashing this bothersome bug. His eyes locked with the eyes of the bound and gagged man.
A small shudder raced down Rekho’s spine. He wanted rid of this one simply to obliterate that annoying feeling. There was a challenge in the other’s eyes that left no doubt to Rekho that after his usefulness, he would have to be disposed of. A sneer curled across the mage’s face and he turned quickly back to the apprentice cowering at the door.
“They have not used the mask yet but it is only a matter of time.” He paced across the room. “They will eventually figure out that it is a key piece to this puzzle.”
Obviously it was useless to go about stopping them this way. By all indications, the mask would lead them to the Heartstone and in the end they would find the Idylic, dooming his daughter and releasing the dragons to rain their vengeance on the unsuspecting world. And him.
His divinations with the priests had given them knowledge that the magical power contained in the Heartstone of the Idylic was concentrated on the Faery Isles.
Reason told him that they would head for the Isles next. It was close to their current position and their mage had mentioned having to cross the Barren Lands. This would be Rheko’s next destination as well.
He couldn’t touch the Heartstone, it was only safe for dragon-kin to handle it, but he could certainly put roadblocks in place that would stop the group before Mey could lay hands on it. If he was lucky, that mage of theirs would die in the hands of the incompetent priests of Sirrah and he would not have to worry about them getting much further.
Unlikely. This Uray fellow was strong. Infused with the power of the Circle, no doubt.
To the apprentice, he said, “Ask the Elder if he will see me.” The young man moved quickly, knowing that if the mage asked, it was best to comply hastily.
Less than an hour later, Rekho sat in an ornately decorated room off the main path of the Caverns. Apparently priests had no problem using their divine gifts to surround themselves with trinkets and luxuries. Disgust twisted through his stomach and sat heavy. He didn’t like this arrangement but what other choice did he have?
His disdain for the priests went back, far into his youth as a quickling in Orphana. There were very few elven priests, mostly because the elves revered nature as their god and protector, not some pale imitation of a being so powerful it could control the very destiny of the world.
He had known one elven priest, however. After his mother had been taken in by the wretched fool, and given over every precious heirloom the family held sacred in exchange for a promised divine place among the gods for her and her children, the priest had disappeared. No one ever heard from him again and his mother’s spirit had been broken so severely she never quite recovered. Her nighttime wanderings and one-sided conversations with herself in search of a god who likely did not exist had left Rekho mistrustful of any and all priests he had come into contact with from then on.
“Master,” a voice broke into his reverie.
“Do not refer to me as such,” he sneered before composing himself and turning to face the Elder. “I am no longer of the Magister’s Order.”
“Of course,” the soft-spoken man before him said. “Rekho.”
“That will do.” Rekho sat in the nearest chair, covered with velvet no less. “I need to travel. I will require the assistance of some of your most seasoned priests. If you have any Chosen, they would be most beneficial.”
The Elder raised an eyebrow and moved to seat himself across from Rekho. His robes were the softest spun silk this side of Cantor, the mage was sure and wrapped with the sash delineating his station, sewn from golden thread. The man himself was middle-aged, as humans went. Just into his fortieth year if he had to guess.
“And where would you be traveling?”
“Our target will head next to the Faery Isles. I must arrive before them to prepare a…surprise welcome, shall we say.” Rekho was quite uncomfortable under this man’s scrutiny but he would never allow the man to know as much.
Moving to retrieve a small glass along with a colored decanter, the Elder looked up. “Wine?” he asked. Damn him and his flippant attitude. This was not a social visit. Rekho ground his teeth together and shook his head. Enduring this man was a challenge in itself. The ‘Elder’ had inherited the position from Keelan Bor, recently deceased. And likely at this one’s hands, Rekho thought cautiously. This Elder took no chances that he would suffer the same fate as his predecessor. Spells of detection were always placed strategically about him. You never knew if he was privy to your thoughts or if he w
as prying into your soul.
Rekho swallowed his ire and contempt. “Elder, I have a plan that should stop them from acquiring the Heartstone that is located on the Isles.”
“And how do you know the Heartstone is on the Isles?”
“Reports of mutated fey creatures that inhabit these isles are pouring in as of late. The sprites, gnomes and nymphs are warring among one another, with detrimental effects upon the gnomes I hear. The sea creatures that have lived peacefully in those waters for centuries are altered. Fishermen have shunned the area for some time now.”
“The same things that are happening in Chal, I presume? And the outskirts of Val? The sightings of Gnor are dramatically increasing.” He drank the wine in one gulp and poured another. Rekho supposed he had to repress the haunting deeds of his conscious somehow.
“Yes.” Rekho’s gaze wavered slightly before he said, “And I plan to call the Zar’leith.”
“So, you have deemed it necessary to bring in a denizen of the dark, have you?”
Swallowing his apprehension, he replied with amazing surety in his tone. “The demon will be instructed only to protect the Heartstone.”
“A demon that follows orders?”
“It has no choice. I hold its essence.”
“And how did you ever come by something so valuable, Rekho?” The sly smile on the Elder’s face widened. He would love to know the secrets Rekho carried from the Order of Mages, but he was not so idiotic as to reveal that information.
Rekho remained silent. The Elder laughed and poured another drink. “Very well, Rekho. You may have ten priests to accompany you, three of them Chosen. Suitable?”
“If they can handle traveling the roads of magic, yes. We must arrive quickly and I can take no chances at crossing the Anarhet Sea with the reports of the abominations that plague the fishermen.”
“Very well. They will be ready within two hours. I must assemble them and then give my own instructions.” His intent was quite clear. He would have to instruct them not to let the mage out of their sight. Trust was not something that he found within the ranks of priests.
Rekho moved to leave the Elder to his drink, but was stopped with the man’s next question.
“What of that prisoner you keep?”
Heat flowed to his face and anger colored his pale cheeks. “He will be left untouched for now.” It was not a request.
“I wonder, Rekho, what you’re intending for that one? What value does he hold other than to allow for mistakes to be made?”
“That is my concern. I assure you that once his usefulness has faded, he will be disposed of.” Anger fueling his steps, Rekho pushed through the curtain hanging in the doorway. He stopped abruptly just outside and took a deep, cleansing breath, blowing it out slowly.
He had to endure these priests. It was the only way he had any chance at stopping Mey and her friends from going too far with this quest. Funny, the empty hole where his heart had once been only ached slightly when he thought of her.
The insatiable need to stop her had grown so large it had eaten away at most of the tender feelings he had had trouble overcoming when he first offered his services to the priests. With every hour he spent plotting against them, the hole grew. Evil plans rushed to fill the void. He almost couldn’t pull up the memory of her face the last time he tried.
He had severed the last thread between them when he let her believe he had died. She probably didn’t believe it, but no matter. He brushed the thoughts out of his head and proceeded back to his laboratory. There was much work to do.
**********
Under the canopy of stars that had twinkled in the sky now for nigh on a week, Rekho looked over the priests sent by the Elder.
They would suffice. The three Chosen were all servants of Irhona. The only female deity of the three gods worshiped by the races of Cantor, they bore her mark over their hearts. A circle struck through with an “X”. She would claim not only their allegiance, but their souls as well. One of these men had decided to show his devotion by carving the deep X over his eyes. Rekho shuddered as he looked at the mutilated face of the priest. The extremes some of the devout would go to for their god was disturbing.
Going over the plan to call the demon forth, Rekho had to be sure he left nothing out. It was tricky business to deal with the dark demons but he wasn’t overly worried. He had done this before, although on a smaller scale. The particular demon he wanted to summon this time, however, was unfamiliar with his presence. He would have to be careful to let it know he was someone it could trust.
As Rekho checked his store of farthen-crystals, he thought of how best to deal with the prisoner. The Elder wanted him dead. He couldn’t let that happen before he gleaned all he could from the man. He knew more than he was telling willingly. Chanting the words that would produce a cloaking spell, Rekho blanketed the man with silence and shadow. No one would see nor hear him. He placed additional magical locks and alarms and traps all around and at the entrance to his laboratory.
Most priests here wouldn’t dare to enter the mage’s laboratory. But the Elder, that was an entirely different matter. The man was brazen beyond all good sense. Surely he was aware that Rekho protected his work with powerful spells. And if he wasn’t, well, that was a mess Rekho would have to clean up once he returned.
One of the priests who would be accompanying him approached. “Sir, we’re prepared to leave at your leisure.”
Nodding, Rekho turned from the doorway of the deep grotto he chose to house his laboratory and walked the short distance to the mouth of the Caverns. He and the priests occupied the spaces closest to the entrance to the Caverns of Endless Time. Further in and deeper down, time meant nothing. It sped up, slowed down, suspended itself and churned backward constantly. You couldn’t trust that you wouldn’t be ripped to pieces if you entered unprepared. Closer to the surface, his magic combined with the divine powers of the priests, could hold any negative effects at bay.
The priests and Chosen waited for him in a clearing not far from the Caverns. He had instructed them to build a small altar with the handful of kyanite stones he had given them. Once he arrived, he grunted his approval at their handiwork. He stood near the stones as the priests circled around him. They knew what was required of them as they all joined hands to arms around Rekho. So, the Elder had honored his request at seasoned priests; good to know.
Murmuring words that would infuse the stones with the magic they would need to facilitate a journey to the Faery Isles, Rekho closed his eyes and concentrated. The words came faster, but never above a whisper as he chanted. The sensation of wind blowing over him lasted only moments before dying down. The sharp smell of salt air hit his nostrils. He slowly opened his eyes and looked around. All ten priests and Chosen had made the journey unscathed.
A wave of weakness passed through Rekho before he felt comfortable enough to move his legs. Breaking past the circle of priests he walked to the shoreline. There were three islands in the region known as the Faery Isles. Each was inhabited by a unique collection of fey creatures. Their destination had been Inispry, home to the sprites. It was likely they wouldn’t see any of the small, elusive creatures while they were here. They tended to shy away from contact with outsiders.
“Sir, where do we find the Heartstone?” The tallest of the priests, who also seemed to be the one designated as leader of the bunch asked.
“We head toward the center of the island.” Rekho was certain it was here, the pull of magic was strong. They would find it first by the mutated land around it. The power released by the stone was of the purest kind. Dragon magic was clean and undiluted. When the Idylic was broken, the magic from its Heartstone was allowed to seep into its surroundings, changing things slowly over time.
He led the men up the sandy beach into the dense trees. Laughter on the wind blew past them as they entered. “Only sprites,” Rekho threw over his shoulder as he continued walking. “They are harmless, really. If you leave them alone and do not meddl
e with their homes.” He smiled devilishly, then added, “Mind where you step.”
All ten priests’ heads snapped to their feet as they all froze in place. Looking to one another, they slowly began moving after Rekho who strode boldly through the wooded terrain, chuckling.
The islands were abundantly green and lush with flora. Every now and again a buzzing would sound. The curiosity of the sprites would get the better of them eventually. They would follow the mage and priests but they would not show themselves unless provoked. Rekho did not know any of the names of the men who accompanied him, he didn’t really care. “You,” he called to the tall man, “can you clear a path?”
The priest hesitated, not eager at altering the homes of the sprites. “Oh, for the love of stars, just do it. We are in no danger from sprites.” Rekho’s ire began to flare. Simple minds irritated him to no end.
The priest threw one unsure glance around to his brothers, but he brought his hands together in prayer. The thick vine and brush began to snake back, forming a path large enough to walk in a line. Without another word, Rekho turned and stomped on, fuming at the stupidity he was forced to endure.
As the group trudged further into the wooded island, Rekho began to notice the trees were increasingly twisted around one another. Inky black spots covered the leaves and trunks. There was a distinctive smell wafting on the breeze here as well. Rot. He kept a steady pace. Dead birds began to dot the floor of the woods, in various stages of decomposition. The further they traveled, the larger the animals they found dead and dying along the path. The trees had begun shedding their leaves and the decay littered the ground.
The smell had gotten worse as well. All indications that sprites were about had ceased. Likely they did not travel into the area of magic. The pulse and pull of it drew Rekho forward. It was close. The priests behind him had begun to tie cloths about their faces in an attempt to block the smell.
Reborn (The Dragons of Cantor Book 1) Page 17