Reborn (The Dragons of Cantor Book 1)

by Lela Robichaux

  “Well, what is it?” he asked irritably.

  “The Elder would like a word.” The gravelly voice hardly rose above a whisper.

  A long, exasperated sigh escaped the mage, but he nodded curtly at the priest. Rekho had decided to keep Scar in his small entourage and the priest had been agreeable. He didn’t speak unless he had something of import to convey and he stayed to himself, not interested in the mage’s affairs whatsoever. And he had saved Rekho’s life.

  “He’s on his way.”

  Damn! He could have said that to begin with.

  “Do you know what he wants?”

  The priest only shrugged and moved to the side, giving the mage space to pass. As he did, Rekho noted the contemptible look Scar gave the man on the floor. The human only stared back. Interesting, Rekho thought. He had assumed Scar held no feelings one way or the other about anything.

  Just as Rekho made his way to the door, the Elder threw the cloth hanging over the opening to the side and stepped in, his silken robes whispering softly. The man was bold. And his very presence annoyed the mage.

  “I have a wounded priest in Sorga who tells me the Descendant assured him she could not be stopped and inevitably would bring justice to the people of Cantor.” The Elder moved languidly past Rekho and a shiver crawled up the mage’s spine. “Care to explain?”

  Swallowing his revulsion at being in such close proximity to this man, Rekho thought quickly.

  “I am working to discourage her faith in her heritage every chance I get.”

  The Elder raised an eyebrow. “Not exactly working out as you planned?”

  “I am certain the demon will accomplish what I called it to do.”

  “But there is a chance they will overcome that obstacle as well.” The Elder crossed the room and leaned in close to the prisoner, who did not blink as his gaze connected with the priest’s.

  “Th-that will not happen,” Rekho stammered. He hadn’t considered the possibility of them making it past the demon. How could he be so foolish? He lashed himself silently for failing to plan further. He had never been so careless.

  Rising slowly and turning to face the mage, the Elder smiled reassuringly. “Of course not. After all, we have put our extreme trust in you at your word you would not allow her to open the pathway allowing the dragons to reenter this world.” He stepped in closer to Rekho before the smile faded. “And we have paid you handsomely on that assurance.”

  Moving past the mage, the Elder headed back to the opening from whence he had entered. Stopping just before he stepped out into the maze of tunnels in the Caverns, he turned back.

  “Perhaps I should handle this one myself, Rekho? I mean, if it’s become too much for you to handle.”

  “No,” Rekho quickly answered. This was his responsibility. He had a part in securing the prophecy coming to fruition and he would make sure he righted that wrong. “You have my word it will not come to be, Elder.”

  The Elder nodded once, shot a glance at Scar, then exited.

  Breathing deeply to control the anger coursing into his hands, causing them to twitch uncontrollably, Rekho turned back to his work table. The image still played just above the silver bowl. The group was entering a camp of some sort. Nomads, no doubt. Yes, his brother had connections there, just as he thought.

  He watched the scene before him. These people revered Bob – that much was obvious when he entered the biggest tent and spoke with what looked to be the leaders of the tribe. They welcomed him with hugs and gifts. Rekho’s lip twisted into a sneer as he watched the group being accommodated within the camp.

  “Do you think they will defeat the Zar’leith?” Scar’s raspy voice broke through his fuming jealousy.

  “None of them have ever encountered a denizen of the dark plane. How could they possibly know how to defeat it?”

  “They have all shown considerable skill and courage along their quest.”

  “Are you suggesting I do not know what I am talking about?” Rekho’s ire burned hot and threatened to lash out. Considerable effort kept it simmering just below the surface. Scar was one of the few he could trust. None of the priests believed he could accomplish what he said he could. They reveled in watching his slow downfall, he was certain.

  “The mage is well-read. Perhaps he knows the weaknesses of demons. If they get close enough, and pierce the creature’s heart, they will banish it back to his own plane.”

  “Impossible!” Rekho bellowed. “They will never get that close.”

  “There are several good marksmen with them. The elf is deadly accurate with a bow. The girl throws a dagger with such perfection you’d be dead before you realized she had even drawn a weapon.”

  Scar moved in closer. He was right. They were all very good with their weapons. They would have never gotten this far if they were not.

  Rekho was distracted trying to wrap his thoughts around what he would do if they actually made it past his big surprise. The Heartstone of the Idylic the demon protected would lead her to the next destination and eventually right to him. His breath came in short, forced gasps as he imagined her finding him. It could not happen; he could not let it!

  Frantically, he doused the image and paced around the table.

  Scar had made his way to the man in the corner. As he stood close to the human, he smiled. To Rekho, he said, “There is one way you could ensure the dragons stay far from this world.”

  Rekho stopped, looking at the big man. A thick, corded scar running almost in a complete circle around his neck bobbed as the man swallowed.

  “Well?”

  “Kill her.”

  Those words in Scar’s whispery rasp sent chills of…what was it he felt? The emotion was foreign to him. Almost familiar, but he couldn’t put a word to it to describe it. Something buried deep in the far reaches of his mind nagged at him to protect her. But that didn’t make sense.

  The dark chasm opened wider even as he shook his head to deny it. Why was he denying it? The darkness was so warm and comforting; it beckoned to him.

  Words echoed out of the deepening hole: “Kill her, kill her…”

  He found himself nodding now. Yes. That was his purpose, the darkness confirmed it. It was so easy to see that.

  As he stepped over the edge and let the soothing shadow envelope him, he saw one last confusing image in his mind: a beautiful woman, sobbing, calling his name, reaching for him as if to catch him before he slipped away into that chasm of madness.

  TWENTY-ONE

  The Nomads saw them safely to the borders of their land and secured a promise of further help from the population of the small port city of Nordis. It turned out that revealing Mey’s true heritage to the Nomads helped tremendously.

  The city, if it could be called such, consisted of a dock, a few buildings representing only the essentials; a baker, a tailor and cobbler (both housed in the same building), a blacksmith, homes and most importantly, a tavern.

  It was at this tavern the five of them waited for word of their request to commission a boat to travel to the Faery Islands. Passing on the fish stew with its film of grease layering the top, Mey opted for bread, cheese and ale.

  “Do you think we’ll find anyone willing to take us?” She turned to Thom, who sat next to her with his own meager meal.

  “If we offer enough, it’s possible. The Mage’s Circle has told me this region has been experiencing some trouble with strange creatures further out to sea.”

  “What sort of creatures?”

  Just then the serving girl approached to set another round of drinks in front of them. She eyed them curiously. “You the ones lookin’ for tha’ boat?”

  “Yes.” Thom nodded, but gave no more information.

  “Lon,” she pointed to a man walking up to the long bar, and greeting the owner. “He’s your best chance on gettin’ out ta sea.”

  Thom placed a coin on her tray. “Thank you.”

  She winked at him and flounced off with a sway in her step that had M
ey scowling at her retreating form.

  “Let’s talk to him, then,” she said to draw the attention back to the task at hand. She pushed past the rest of them.

  Approaching the man at the bar, she noticed his blonde hair was almost white. And just like most of the folks in the town, his clothes were well-worn and patched in several places. Calloused hands clasped the mug before him.

  “Lon?” she asked as she settled next to him.

  He glanced her direction, trying to see past the hood she wore pulled close around her face to conceal her eyes as much as she could. His curiosity got the best of him.

  “Yeah. Who’re you?”

  “Name’s Mey.” Looking over her shoulder, she watched the rest of her friends settling back at their table. She tilted her chin in that direction. “My friends and I are looking for an escort across the Anarhet.”

  “Lots o’ skiffs for rent dockside. I don’t get out to sea much anymore.”

  “Hmm. I was told you were the best seaman of the lot. Suppose I was mistaken.” She made a move to stand and leave, managing to drop a purse full of coins right at his feet. “Oh, sorry. Excuse me.”

  She picked up the bulging pouch, holding it up for a few seconds before stuffing it into the front of her tunic. She turned to leave.

  “Uh, you said an escort?” The old sailor now leaned in a bit closer. “Where about you folks lookin’ to go?”

  “Oh, well,” Mey seated herself again. “Our destination is among the Faery Isles. Island of Inispry, specifically.” She eyed his reaction to her words, noting the look of shock that crossed his hardened features.

  “Why would you want to go there?”

  “Our business is our own. That is our destination; we’ll pay generously.”

  “It’s not an easy trip. How much you payin’?”

  “Fifty gold before we leave and one hundred once we’re safely off the island.”

  He hesitated, looked up as if searching the ceiling for his answer, then shrugged. “I don’t have a large boat. Midsize. Only two sleeping cabins. And I don’t carry a large crew. Just my two sons and myself. We’ll take the smaller quarters.”

  Smiling in the shadows of her hood, Mey nodded. “How soon can we leave?”

  “Be ready at daw-” Cutting off before he actually said the word dawn, he amended his statement, since they hadn’t seen a dawn in over a week now. “Ten hours.” He drank down the rest of his ale in one gulp, put his mug down. Taking another long look at her and glancing at her friends still at the nearby table, he nodded and left the building.

  Proud of herself, Mey sauntered back to the group, smiling.

  “We leave in ten hours,” she announced.

  They bathed and rested in preparation for the trip. It had been some time since she had slept in an actual bed, and although the ratty cot in a room small enough to be a closet could hardly be called a bed, it was as comfortable as a large feather-stuffed mattress. She woke refreshed and ready to set sail.

  They found Lon and his boys waiting at the dock next to a decent-sized boat, with the name Dragon’s Glory in peeling white letters pained on the side. Mey smiled with surprise.

  “Has to be a good sign, right?” Thom said as he passed her.

  The deck was large enough to move around without bumping into each other. The space they would be sleeping in was a bit cramped and they would be sleeping on the floor, but it would do.

  Mey handed over a small purse with the fifty gold coins while Elerbee and Thom fortified the ship the best they could with magic and divine prayer; ensuring they would stay afloat in bad weather, strengthening the wood to withstand blows, and that the wind would always be in their favor. Lon’s sons eyed them suspiciously but once they had money in hand, their attention turned to their own work.

  The trip would take at least five days, six if they ran into bad weather. Lon told them things were more dangerous the closer they got to the island. Once out at sea, the journey became almost relaxing, but Mey knew better than to let her guard down. Bob spent most of his time at the bow of the vessel, scanning the horizon. If danger came in the form of another ship, they would know well ahead of time. Durlag was with the boys most days, who sat rapt as they listened to the dwarf’s tales of adventure and monsters, which got more and more amazing as he sipped from that flask.

  Never having been out to sea, even living in a port town for many years, Mey found she enjoyed the feeling of freedom that washed through her as the wind blew through her hair and took her breath away. The rocking of the ship cradled her to sleep and lulled her into a comfort that was startling. They slept nearly shoulder to shoulder in their cramped quarters and more than once she woke to find herself cushioned against Thom, his arms gently encircling her.

  His face dominated her sleeping hours as well as her waking. He sought her out as she leaned against the railing of the ship, letting the wind take her thoughts and scatter them like leaves. The sudden touch on her cheek made her jump and she jerked her eyes open.

  “You look so peaceful,” Thom said, smiling at her.

  She let out a breath, releasing the tension from the shock.

  “Don’t sneak up on me like that,” she admonished. But his smile was catching and she couldn’t help but smile in return.

  “Only a couple of more days, Lon says.”

  She nodded. “You never did tell us what types of monsters are lurking in the sea around these islands.”

  “We should be prepared for anything, but the Circle received reports that normal sea creatures were mutating into huge, aggressive monsters attacking any ships that ventured into the waters they inhabit. One in particular, what appeared to be an octopus as large as the vessel itself, rose up and used its massive arms to pull the ship under, sparing none on board. The other ships in the fleet turned and fled as fast as they could.”

  “I have to stop this,” she whispered. People were dying as the balance of evil overtook the good. She couldn’t let it happen any longer. She was the key and as much as it frightened her, there was an irresistible need to set it right.

  He pulled her close and she rested her head against his shoulder. This was the only place she felt truly comforted and safe; with him.

  Elerbee’s prayer for good weather kept with them and Inispry came into sight less than two days later, or what would be two days at best guess. The sun continued to shine relentlessly. Lon’s discomfort with the entire situation was obvious the closer they got.

  Once out at sea, where they couldn’t turn back, Mey had revealed her face to Lon and his sons. They were nervous and she wasn’t sure if they believed she was descended from dragons but ever since that moment, the sailor and his sons avoided her if they could. She could feel them looking at her but would quickly look away when she turned to them. She took it in stride. At least they agreed to continue the journey to its finish; money was a motivator even in the most extreme situations.

  As the boat approached the shore, they watched as fish and all manner of swimming creatures attacked the hull but were thwarted by the armor spell Thom fortified the wood with. Odd to watch the smaller ones assault the large boat. They were surrounded as Lon dropped the anchor a short distance out.

  “You’ll have to use the smaller boats to get to shore.” Eyeing the sea life encircling them, he added, “As soon as you’re off, we’ll sail around to wait on far side of the island.”

  Mey knew his trust in magic was tenuous but so far he had seen it prove itself by keeping the creatures at bay.

  Four smaller boats with oars lined the ship on its port side. Dividing themselves between two of them - Mey, Thom and Durlag in one, Bob and Elerbee in the other – the three fishermen lowered them into the water. Immediately, fish with unusually large mouths and small razor-like teeth swam at them. Mey braced herself for what should have been a jarring impact but the creatures hit a wall of resistance. Elerbee’s divine shield extended between the two small boats and encased them.

  Maneuvering their s
mall vessels to the shore, they dragged them up as far out of the water as they could and gathered around one another.

  “The magic of the Idylic will be strong and it should be unmistakable,” Thom was saying.

  “What about the demon?”

  “Humpf, that foul beastie’s never met a dwarf, I’m bettin’!” Durlag heaved his large axe around into both hands.

  Mey shivered as a breeze blew, leaving her with the distinctive feeling of fear. A small gasp caught in her throat. One moment she was fine, the next icy stabs of panic crawled up her spine.

  “Mey?” Elerbee noted her reaction before anyone. He laid a hand on her arm. “You’re freezing!”

  “I’m…oh.” As soon as it had overcome her, the fear was gone and another feeling washed through her. “So sad…”

  Uncontrollable tears stung her eyes and rolled down her face. She had never felt so sad, it was a hundred times more hopeless than anything she had experienced. She had to move, had to do something to try to escape this feeling. Her first instinct was to head into the foliage further up the shore.

  She walked quickly and blindly, not bothering to note her surroundings, only sensing that she had entered trees and scrub. There was a faint, bothersome noise behind her. Tears blurred her vision and she stumbled many times. Finally she went down hard on one knee. Breath coming hard and fast, she choked on the sobs that were coming uncontrollably. The end of existence, hopeless loss of everything dear to her; the emotion was relentless. She heard the faint noise again. Was that her name? Someone was calling her name?

  There was movement next to her, in the leaves, behind the fallen log she had tripped over. Suddenly the movement was all around her, tiny lights moving so rapidly there was only a blur of color. Lowering her head and closing her eyes to quell the dizziness, she thought she heard her name again, closer this time.

  Confusion and curiosity hit her out of the blue and mixed with the fear and sadness that was already threatening her sanity. What in the name of the gods was going on here? Was this an attack? Mey hardened her jaw and determined to pull herself together. She looked up slowly, taking deep breaths.