Reborn (The Dragons of Cantor Book 1)

by Lela Robichaux

  As they passed through the sewer tunnels, Thom thought about little else but Mey. He needed to talk to her again, alone. First they needed to reach the path that led them outside and free from the stench of these damned passageways.

  Elerbee awaited them when they emerged into the open; the lightened sky a magnificent mixture of colors ranging from red to yellow, just before the sun peeks through.

  Squinting at the unexpected brightness, Thom brought a hand to his forehead to shield his eyes. The stars had faded. Wasn’t continual light the second sign? Would there be sunset tonight or would it blaze on continually for who knew how long? They had no time to lose. When it happened, he wasn’t sure how long it would last, but the darkness had lingered for two weeks.

  Wrinkling his nose at the stench that clung to the rest of the group, Elerbee said, “We have to get away from the city. This way.” He moved as far ahead of them as he could without them losing sight of him. Hopefully, Thom thought, leading us somewhere we can bathe.

  TWENTY

  Running a hand over his weary eyes, he scrubbed at the growth of beard spreading wildly across his face. This past month on the road yielded not one chance for proper hygiene. At least Elerbee had been able to find them a place to bathe. Clear and cool, the water fell in a cascade over the tall rocks above as the Range River wound its way along the border of Sorga. Thom let everyone else take a turn while he contacted the Mage’s Circle.

  The sun sat high in the center of the sky, following them, shining brightly, warming the air. Thom was convinced this was the second sign. The prophecy warned three signs would lead to the destruction of everything if they did not restore the balance between good and evil; the dragons.

  Now, he reflected on the events of the past day.

  As soon as they were safely away from the city, Thom had taken the opportunity to question Mey further on the events that took place with the Collector.

  “So, that’s it? You took his collections, maimed him in the process and left?”

  “Well, no. I asked him why the temple taxed the people so vastly. He told me the priests had amassed large debts trying to pay off a mage they hired to stop me.”

  Thom’s head snapped up. He stopped abruptly in his tracks. Everyone else had stopped as well and turned back, wary eyes on Mey and Thom. “A mage?”

  “That’s what I said.”

  “Did he tell you anything more? Give you a name? Indicate where this mage might be located?”

  “No. I was so angry and Makagesh was pushing me to kill him…” Her voice trailed off and she cringed. “Thom?”

  He had paced away from her but something in her voice made him turn back when she spoke his name.

  “I…I, uh...” Taking a deep breath, she continued. Was she expecting he would be angry with her? “I revealed to him who I was. He knows I’m the Descendant.”

  Horror? Fear? Shock, or maybe pride? Which was it that crossed his face as she said those words? Perhaps all. He did not speak.

  “I also told him he should let his masters know they would not stop me; that I would bring justice for the people of Cantor.” Biting her lower lip, she watched him. As he felt heat spread up his neck and into his face, she held her breath, doubtless waiting for him to explode.

  Instead, he turned away from her; his shoulders slumped. He felt all eyes boring into his back as he stood there. When he turned to face her, he was composed. She breathed a sigh.

  Sadness overcame him as he stared into her haunting, silver eyes. He smiled as he stepped closer to her.

  “It’s who you are, Mey. A burden a lesser person could not bear, but you – you embrace it.” His voice dropped to a whisper.

  No one said a word, but glanced at one another, turned, and continued on their path. Elerbee’s gaze lingered, reflecting the same sadness Thom felt. Losing her, that’s what it was like. She was detaching herself from him and becoming part of something bigger.

  She was never mine. He had to stay focused.

  The mages deciphered the mask to be enchanted with a True Seeing spell. And the information the Circle had given him about the magical presence on the Faery Isles confirmed their destination.

  The land was changing, the creatures living there were dying in droves and just recently, detection of a demon.

  Demons had to be summoned. Only mages, very powerful ones, could summon denizens of the dark world. It fit with the information Mey had revealed about the priests amassing debts to pay a mage. The Circle was investigating who it could be. There was only one missing mage they knew of, however, that had enough power to summon a demon.

  And one of his biggest fears had been confirmed by the Magister. The physical changes Mey had experienced were likely permanent and there would be more. He didn’t allow his thoughts to linger on the prospect too long. What it meant, for him and for her, was something he’d gotten good at pushing away and so, he buried it under the mounting pressures of what lay ahead.

  Thom shook his head. He didn’t want to think about any of it. He just wanted to get across the Barren Lands. Durlag had traveled the border, but never entered. Bob had been through them before, so he knew how unforgiving the land was. He claimed he had never met the nomads wandering the desert land, but he was so evasive on the subject, Thom wasn’t certain he believed that story. None of the others had ever been in the desert land, and not one of them had ever stepped foot on any of the small islands that composed the Faery Isles.

  He sighed. A long, cleansing breath that pushed all his thoughts out to scatter in the wind and land where they may. He took in another lungful of air and plunged straight down into the water. It felt good, the feeling of weightlessness, and the rushing of the cool water over his skin as he rose again to break the surface. Savoring the last few moments of his bath, eyes closed against reality, he sensed he wasn’t alone. He opened his eyes and turned.

  Bob stood at the bank of the river. A tall, imposing figure, his green eyes pierced through Thom making him feel the elf scrutinized his deepest thoughts.

  “What did your mages have to say?”

  The voice took him off guard; it always did. One expected a hard, forceful sound from such an intense presence. But it was musical, floating through the air, catching the wind and instantly putting one at ease.

  Thom made his way to the shore, climbing out and dressing quickly before the chill in the wind could set him shivering. All the while, Bob’s posture never relaxed. He was always alert, tensed, and ready for anything from any direction.

  Thom regarded him another moment before he answered.

  “The mask is not part of dragon heritage. It is simply a Mask of True Seeing. It allows the wearer to see through illusion or to decipher the truths of the past ages.”

  Bob nodded once. “And this mage working with the priests?”

  Ah, that was the true reason for this unexpected visit.

  “Only speculations at present.”

  “Such as?”

  So, he supposed the same, Thom realized.

  “I want the truth,” Bob whispered.

  Thom grew silent as he rolled the information around in his head, trying to figure out the best way to tell the elven fighter what the Circle suspected. Lying would offend Bob and for the life of him, Thom wanted his respect.

  “There is only one mage unaccounted for who would have the power to call a demon of this magnitude.”

  Understanding shrouded his bright eyes and dimmed them just a little. It was like a light had been doused in the world that could never be relit. “Of course,” Bob finally said.

  “They’re not certain,” Thom said quickly.

  The other merely glanced at him and let his gaze travel just over Thom’s shoulder.

  Turning to see what had caught the elf’s attention, he saw Mey approaching, bandolier in hand. Her steps were swift until she lifted her head and spotted the two men.

  “Sometimes,” Bob said, looking sharply at Thom, “there are destinies that are not mea
nt to intertwine.”

  He opened his mouth to reply, but managed only to stand, gaping at Bob’s back as the elf walked away abruptly.

  “What was that all about?” Mey set her weapons down gently beside the water and began rummaging through her pack.

  “Nothing.”

  The thud of booted feet and cursing caused them both to look up as Durlag made his way through the scrub that grew thickly between the trees.

  “Damned weeds,” the dwarf said. “How’s a body supposed to find the durned water?” Just then, he broke through the tree line and pulled up short when he spotted the other two. He smiled a wide, toothy grin.

  “Well, looks like ye had the same idea, lass. Weapons do ye no good if ye don’t treat ‘em right.”

  He turned his attention to Thom.

  “Ye talk to them other pointy hats, lad? What’s the word?” He began unbuckling the leather straps that held his heavy axe on his back.

  Thom pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “They don’t wear pointy hats.”

  “Whatever.” Durlag waved a hand at him, fell heavily back on his haunches next to Mey as she chuckled under her breath. “Did they have anything useful to say or not?”

  “Oh! The mask.” Thom pulled it from one of the pouches tied to his belt, still on the ground. Handing it back to Mey, he continued, “It has a True Seeing spell placed on it. When you wear it, illusion is stripped away and you can only see an object’s, or a person’s, true origins. It will also reveal whatever truth you need to see from the past.”

  She hesitated and made no move to take it. “You keep it.”

  He nodded, understanding her reluctance. “All right.”

  “What about the Faery Isles?” Mey asked. “Is it certain that is our destination?”

  “Yes. The magical energy there has become very powerful.” He didn’t want to say the next part, but the sooner they prepared themselves, the better. “A demon has been detected.”

  “Demon?” Elerbee’s voice broke in. Thom and Durlag jumped at the sound; Mey merely glanced at him, clearly the only one who’d heard his approach.

  “From what can be deciphered, it is a Zar’leith demon. Reptilian, poisonous, and very powerful.”

  Elerbee uttered a prayer under his breath. “How is it defeated?”

  “It relies on speed and poison to defend itself.” Thom described the beast and its tactics from what he had read in texts. Never had he faced a demon. The older mages told stories of encounters with various denizens, usually minor ones, in their travels. Thom assumed the stories were mostly to frighten the younger mages in training away from the practice of summoning.

  No one spoke at the end of his account. Each was thinking of the danger they faced, no doubt. Mey and Durlag cleaned their weapons mechanically, going through the motions, but not really paying attention to detail in their work. Elerbee’s eyes were closed in silent prayer.

  Durlag cleared his throat.

  “We still have to make it across the blasted desert.”

  “My uncle would be the best one to tell us what to expect. He’s the only one who’s crossed the Barren Lands.”

  “He can fill us in on the road,” Thom said. “Right now, we need to find shelter; a place to rest.”

  Elerbee spoke up. “I saw a series of caves back by the waterfall.”

  “Good,” Thom and Mey said in unison. Thom smiled at her and she laughed, eyes dancing, hypnotizing.

  Squinting up at the sun, which had not moved for hours from its position, Thom heard the echo of Bob’s last words to him: “There are destinies that are not meant to intertwine.”

  **********

  Blood drained from his face. Rekho felt icy fingers of dread wrap around his body, one by one. They know it’s me, he thought with growing defeat.

  From what he’d overheard of the conversation, only the mage and his brother had any idea. His lips twisted into a sneer at the thought of Oboderen. Everything Rekho was not, the elven warrior seemed to know everything, made all the right choices and outshone his sibling at every chance.

  It had always been so. Even when their mother had sunk deep into madness, Rekho found it harder to be a comfort to her while Oboderen spent nearly every waking moment catering to her, assuring she want for nothing.

  He wasn’t surprised Meylaran had asked him to go along. Her beloved “Bob”: The uncle who never judged and always loved. Rekho supposed he probably would have been a better father as well.

  His hands balled into fists. He wouldn’t let this get to him, he couldn’t. And so he shoved the thoughts of family, duty and fathering down the black chasm that had eaten his compassion.

  If the dragons returned, the whole world would be lost, himself included. Wasn’t that the reason for all this? Hesitating briefly, searching for an answer to that nagging question, he moved to his work table. Preparing more farthen crystals so he could be assured to view the small group as they faced the Zar’leith, his eye caught the form huddled in the back of the room.

  Quickly looking away, he shuddered. That one was always watching him, his gaze boring holes right through Rekho, like he was stripping the skin from his bones. He couldn’t wait to be rid of him, but for now, this was his only link to Meylaran. The bond her elven heritage provided with those closest to her was useful to him. It made it easier to follow her and always allowed access to her, which would be all but impossible without that bond. Rekho hated relying on the pathetic creature so much but since he had broken his own bond with her, it was his only choice at present.

  Still, he used every moment he could to torment the foul human. Nothing said he had to be nice to it to use it.

  “You are fast losing your usefulness,” he said offhandedly. “You know, she cares more for the human mage who follows her around like a pup. I could simply snatch him up and be done with you.”

  Silence. Rekho smiled to himself. He enjoyed toying with the man. Although he had not spoken one word since he was taken, even when his gag was removed to eat and drink, Rekho felt he wanted to. So, he prodded him, poking hot sticks into his wounds with every word he spoke.

  “She will hate you for it.”

  Those soft words froze him in place. The voice was weak, but the impact couldn’t have been stronger. For some reason, it only invoked anger. Anger that overtook his reason and made him forget he wanted to avoid looking at the man. He whirled around and leveled his gaze on the wretched being. Blood pulsing furiously through his veins, heart pounding with the force of his ire, he moved a few steps closer.

  “What did you say to me?”

  The human shrank slightly as Rekho spat the words. But he did not back down from the hatred flowing out of every pore of the mage’s body.

  “She will hate you for it,” he repeated slowly, forming the words more carefully as if enunciating them for an incompetent child.

  Feeling his body start to shake with the enormity of the rage coursing through him, Rekho took another step toward the human.

  “How dare you?” Rekho screamed. “She will thank me! All of this is to save her life. Don’t you understand that?”

  He felt close to falling over into that dark chasm, but he stopped just short of plunging headfirst into blackness. Halting his steps, taking a deep breath, he desperately tried to cling to his composure. As many times as he had endeavored to get into this man’s head and intimidate him, it only took a few words to turn the tables.

  It was fear, Rekho realized, not anger that had just overtaken him. Fear that the words this one spoke were true. He growled low in his chest and turned back to his work table.

  Stop it! He told himself. What will any of that matter if the world is destroyed?

  Gripping the edge of the sturdy table, his fingers ached with the effort to anchor and channel his emotions. He closed his eyes and evened his breathing; deep, cleansing breaths that pushed his doubt away with each exhale. This was the right way, the only way.

  Composing his face and assuring himse
lf his path was the only answer, he took the small silver bowl from the table and turned again to the human crowded in the filthy corner. A smile returned to his face and his steps were determined.

  Rekho set the small bowl at the man’s feet. Without meeting his eyes, he gripped the binding on the man’s wrists and yanked him forward. Tiny wounds, all in various degrees of healing, lined his arms. Rekho produced a small blade and made another cut, just above the left wrist. He felt the man tense and a glance at his clenched jaw gave him the satisfaction of knowing the man recognized pain.

  Still holding the prisoner’s arm, Rekho held the bowl up to catch the trickle of blood that ran from the cut. He only needed a few drops, but it gave him a sense of power to drain as much as he wanted. He was still in control here and he intended to let the wretch know it. Dropping his arms, he glared at the man and returned to his table.

  Taking a rather large crystal he placed it inside the bowl and whispered a spell that took him directly to Mey and the group of miscreants she surrounded herself with. Encased on every side by sand, it solidified what he suspected. They had already entered the Barren Lands. He vaguely recalled his brother having lived in the area for a time. Oboderen would get them safely to the border, no doubt. That aching prod of jealousy returned for a moment before he brushed it away.

  Calculating their travel speed he assumed it would only take about a week for them to reach the tribes who made the shores of the Anarhet Sea their home. Of course, the sun shone continuously, which could pose a problem for the group while in the middle of the vast desert.

  The oasis that sustained the nomads living throughout the merciless land, shifted constantly, effectively keeping the tribes living within the Barren Lands on the move. It was a question of when, not if, the group would run into them.

  As Rekho viewed the scene playing out before him, a large, hulking figure entered through the opening to the makeshift laboratory and made its way to the work table. Scar stood silently until Rekho acknowledged him.