by Alex Sapegin
“Did she tell you why I’m here?”
“Yes. You want to find Kerr. But why me?”
“Because an empath who has received a whopping dose of dragon’s blood can find Kerr by using his mental cast, all the more so since you’ve been intimate as a man and a woman.”
“What does that have to do with anything?” the blushing red to her ears Frida asked rudely. She wasn’t pleased with the intrusion into her private life and digging in her underwear.
“It’s relevant because being intimate with a dragon leaves its mark, and coupled with a dose of blood, it won’t let you err.” The Rauu wanted to go on, but he was right to stop there, flooding the space with sparks of irritation directed against himself. “It’s a shame that neither you nor I are universal mages of all the elements. If one of us were, then searching for your, I don’t want to call him ‘your ex-boyfriend,’ would be over and done with today.”
“Why?” The words “ex-boyfriend” resonated to Frida with an unpleasant ring. But they hid something important.
“Eh hmm,” the old elf let out a muffled cough. “Have you heard of the ‘melding of the elements?” Frida nodded. “All dragon mages are complete universals, which is why they are, first of all, magical beings, and they can sense their blood in those who can wield the magic of all four elements. One caveat—a full elemental mage who has partaken in pure dragon’s blood, which has not been obtained through a special ‘extraction’ ritual, can also sense very well whose blood he drank. A small portion of the dragon’s blood remains and lives in the person, supported by the magic of all the elements. If the simple ‘melding’ ritual is performed, then the blood, like the little needle of a compass, will point to its originator. From a close distance, a dragon can feel ‘extracted’ blood as well.”
The elf fell silent. Frida closed her eyes and thought about what he had said. Two things were bothering her: the word “ex,” and why Melima and the old elf had zeroed in on her closeness to Kerr. At the School of Magic, she’d been taught to think logically and to understand the main points. Even before she went to the School, she picked up a blade. Her father handed her a wooden sword at four years old, and her training as a warrior and professional killer began. During her training, much time was devoted to analyzing and dissecting various situations. The clear, connecting points of the discussion stuck out. The High Prince’s surge of emotions, blazing in the empath’s perception like bright lights, was cause for serious concern. What were they hiding? The ancient elf said they would have a long chat, but was rather evasive with his words. He mentioned intimacy and then steered the conversation in another direction, skipping to the effect of the blood. It was a strange conversation as if the old elf were feeling out her emotions and moods.
Frida stood up from the bed and walked around the room. She did not like where this conversation was going. She would agree to help find Kerr—that went without saying. But she was tortured by a constant nagging doubt. What was she missing? Why was the old elf feeling guilt, pity, trepidation all at once, and what seemed like the desire not to participate in the events at hand? Behind the whole gamut of moods, there was a carefully hidden fear of not being in time for something and….
“Questions tormenting you?” the High Prince interrupted her projections. “I’m prepared to answer them.”
“Alright…,” the girl faltered, catching herself in unbecoming behavior, bowed to the elf and sat down in her previous spot. No matter how you spin it, she couldn’t allow herself to ask the questions that interested her of the head of state of another country without his giving her permission. She had already allowed herself a little too much, forgetting, upset, and overwhelmed as she was, who it was she was talking to and periodically interrupting during their short interview. Violating the rules of etiquette, she had jumped up from the bed without the Prince’s permission and was pacing back and forth like a sul in a cage, which was not at all befitting a warrior and a vampire.
Moreover, there was no guarantee that when she asked her questions, she would get true answers. The Rauu were masters of weaving wordy lace and piling up the uncomfortable topics in a heap of husks. However, since permission had been given, she ought to take advantage of it.
“I have a few questions.” Miduel bowed his head in consent. “The first…,” Frida hesitated. The old elf smiled encouragingly. His teeth were white and looked strong. “Why did you want me to marry the son of the prince, and secondly, why might Kerr be my ‘ex’? Thirdly, I’d like to know the truth about the consequences of intimacy with a dragon and why you attach such great importance to it. Fourth, and last: what are you wary of?” The girl wanted to say “afraid of,” but the word might be taken as an insult. The High Prince’s smile faded like a spring snowfall from the mountain slopes. Melima was struck with indignation and anger at the insolent woman’s words, but Frida was not going to step down. She threw her bangs back and looked straight at Miduel.
“I’ll answer your questions,” the elf said, setting his cane aside. Frida sensed such a rush of feelings from Melima that she realized they would probably not be friends anymore. “The first and third questions are related to one another, but I’ll begin from the beginning. I expressed the desire that new blood come into the ruling house. I do sincerely apologize that certain persons took my words quite literally. Ghhm, hm. You are now a bride to be envied. Your children will almost certainly be fully universal and very strong mages. Dragon’s blood and physical intimacy leave their mark. During the act of love, dragons unconsciously share their magic.” Frida looked at the elf carefully and realized he was trying to confound her. Besides common blood, they both “spouted” magic foreign to elves and vampires. Only now did Frida notice Miduel was completely covered in a cocoon of “mind shields,” which didn’t help him much in his conversation with her. Other people’s magic was that keyhole that allowed Frida to examine other people’s, in this case the elf’s, feelings. “Besides magic, they leave an ‘imprint’ of their aura on their partners. In time it fades, but before it does, it allows us to very accurately establish the owner of the mental cast, especially in places where the dragon used magic. Why might your young cavalier become your ex? It’s all about blood. Blood and magic dragged you back from Hel’s judgment, and it’s not yet clear what effect they had on you. You had an enormous dose. A living human would die from such a dose, but you were on the brink, and it the opposite happened. You have the gift of an empath, and how it might react to Kerr now—only the Twins know.” Miduel raised his gaze to the vampire, whose outward appearance gave nothing away, grinned and went on: “You wanted to ask what I’m afraid of? I fear much. As it happened, I know a lot about Kerr. Only his parents and he himself know more than I do. I don’t know all his secrets, only those laying on the surface, but that’s enough to draw a few conclusions. He’s too independent. He won’t trust anyone and, I’m afraid that after what happened on the firing range, he’ll no longer trust Rauu or humans. The notrium cages he’s been forced to sit in completely discourage this feeling. He tried trusting me, but I was too preoccupied with my own self…. That stupid attempt to catch him in a net did no good and much harm. He trusted you of all people, so much that he wanted to tell you his secret. I don’t know whether he loved you, but his willingness to take that risk says much. I’m afraid the Forest elves will catch him and kill him. In light of recent events, that would be very difficult for them to do, but Targ loves cruel jokes. I’m afraid he’ll no longer want anything to do with humans or Rauu, and he would have the right not to. What’s more, I’m afraid he’ll have decided to avenge himself and become our enemy. Kerr doesn’t know his own strength, not yet. Seeing him in the enemy’s camp would be fatally dangerous. I’m afraid I was too late in recognizing the catastrophe that threatens the entire world, too…. Our cowardice will be felt in all Ilanta. Kerr won’t solve the problems alone, if he even wants to help and solve them at all…. I’m sorry, granddaughter; we need you for more than finding him. I ask you
, please, I beg you, convince Kerr to help me….” Miduel didn’t finish his sentence.
“I agree,” Frida answered, whose soul was warmed by the elf’s pleasant words about Kerr’s trusting her. She was prepared to accept him as both a human and a dragon if only the scary predictions about the effect of the blood weren’t true. “When do we leave?”
“Today. In five hours, the mages will build a portal to the suburbs of Orten.” Miduel gestured subtly with his hand. Melima stood up and left the room. “Did you feel that?”
“What was her name?” Frida answered the question with a question, understanding what the old elf wanted from her.
“In five hours, on the arch platform.” Miduel took his cane and went to Frida, who was bowing in reverence. “I’m glad I was right about you,” he added, permitting the girl to stand. He stood in the doorway for a few seconds, shrugged his shoulders and left, leaving the vampire one on one with the thoughts that tormented her. Miduel hadn’t mentioned the name of his lady dragon.
***
“May I?” Melima stepped into the room without waiting for permission and stared at the entire arsenal laid on the bed.
“You may since you’re here anyway,” Frida said, tightening a thin strap on her thigh and testing how a short dagger held up in the sheath on it. A second knife was strapped to her left shoulder. The elf was willing to wager that more than one more dagger, stiletto or stabbing blade was hiding under the ranger’s outfit the vampire was wearing. Frida grabbed a sash with long combat knives attached to it which was worn across the stomach, followed by a sword. Her mail, arm shields, leggings, and a helmet with ten defensive amulets were placed in her traveling bag. She put on her combat glove, turned to Melima, and made a fist. There was a click—three long blades popped out of the glove.
“Thirty warriors are riding with us, fifteen mages with a temple accumulator, and King Gil’s giving us fifty guards too. Why do you need so many weapons?”
“These are MY weapons. It’s very possible I won’t ever be coming back here!”
“Why not?” Melima asked the stupid question.
“Do you want to hear my confession or are you just curious?” Frida answered, not at all in the mood for a conversation. She had had her “fill” of elves for today, of weddings, and other sweet offers. There was just over a half an hour left until the appointed time, and she wasn’t about to spend it gabbing.
“Sorry. Are you ready?”
“That’s everything. I’m ready,” the vampire said, pulling the bag’s string and tossing the strap over her shoulder. “Let’s go.”
She wasn’t able to have a heart-felt parting with her parents. One important thing had disappeared from her relationship with mom and dad—trust. They said goodbye dryly, her mother gave her the traditional tinder flint and steel, meaning may the god of fire, the protector of the family hearth, always warm my daughter while she’s on the road, and wished her a stellar passage. Her father guiltily avoided eye contact, but even so, Frida could feel that his soul was very perturbed. He was constantly reproaching himself for listening to others’ convincing and not telling his daughter the truth.
Frida patted Frai on his wild locks of hair, bowed to her maternal home, turned around sharply, and stepped towards the portal platform.
***
Tantre. Seventy leagues south of Ortag. Frida…
“Can I help you?” Rur walked up to Frida.
“Help, please,” she answered calmly, stretching the hammer to him. “Nail the pegs in on that side.”
“Thanks,” Rur smiled, emanating warmth and a child-like joy.
The vampire looked at the dark-skinned half-blood and shook her head. Frida listened to her feelings: she ought to admit to herself that she liked Rur. He had integrity. He reminded her of Kerr more than anyone else in his behavior and attitude towards her. He was a strong warrior, an awesome rider and naive like a child. His naivete—that’s what set him apart from Kerr. That was a trait completely foreign to Kerr.
“Okay, it’s done. You just have to put up the tent,” the half-blood’s eyes glinted red in the twilight.
“Thanks, Rur.”
“Of course.” A satisfied smile looked like a snow-white string of pearls on the dark face. He sat down beside her, crossed his legs and held his hands to the fire. “Were you thinking about him just now?” Rur asked, picking up a large golden scale that Frida had recently been looking at and had set down. Before he spoke, she felt his sadness and regret that she was not thinking of him…. His white claw scratched at the scale.
“Yes, Rur.”
“You don’t look well. Should I boil you some invigohol?” Participation and care sounded in his voice.
“Sure, if it’s not too much trouble.” Her headache did not want to go away. Frida leaned back against the soft moss and rubbed her temples. Almighty Twins, how tired she was! A little more of this and she would be as red-eyed as the son of R’ron from the Cat clan and the elf Senima.
Targ, Kerr, where the heck are you??
Melima came out of the darkness towards the vampire’s tent.
“What do you feel?” No so much as a how-do-you-do.
“They rode by here three days ago. The mental cast is very strong.”
“That means the unit commander wasn’t lying. We’re on the right track.” A pair of red eyes flashed behind the elf’s back. Rur had returned. He was holding a mug with a steaming hot aromatic beverage for Frida. Melima looked at Frida suspiciously as she took the cup. Then she glanced at the guy. Her lips curved into a barely visible smile, and without another word, she disappeared into the dark night.
Ten minutes later, through their combined efforts, the tent was up. Frida tossed her blanket on the ground. Her fatigue forced her to give in, but, lying under the dark curtain, she couldn’t fall asleep. Her head was splitting for the second week now. The old elf’s prophetic words were coming true….
***
The portal brought a search expedition to the outskirts of Orten. A squadron of fifty royal guards met the Snow Elves. The warriors looked in surprise at the two young women, completely decked out in weapons. The sight of a purple-ish, red-eyed elf (wearing thick leather gloves that hid sharp claws) brought them no less surprise.
Not even stepping away from the arc, Miduel already got things going—everyone was busy. He formed four search parties from the mages and the guards and sent them to search up and down the Ort, on both banks. Two dozen elves set out separately along the country trails and roads. All searchers were given communicator amulets and told the times to check in. The main group headed out along the old caravan road, towards Ortag through the northern foothills. The old elf explained his actions and decisions, saying that a wounded dragon could not have swum very far. They had to find where he exited the river to the shore and go from there.
For two and a half days, the main group walked slowly along towards Ortag. The calm passing of time and mosquito feeding ended at lunch on the third day.
The old Rauu sat down by the fire on a folding stool. A pair of personal bodyguards immediately set up a makeshift table and set it with silverware. Miduel did not deny himself any material comforts. After the first course, one of the mages ran up to him and held out the communicator amulet. The High Prince, dabbing his lips with a napkin, took the device. For a couple of minutes, he listened carefully to the report.
“Let’s get packed up,” he quickly said.
The lunch remained uneaten. After thirty minutes, hot sand over the quenched fires was all that remained of the camp. The group set out for Prizhim—the place where the foothills met the Ort as it curved to the west. A wounded dragon couldn’t have swum pretty far. The rest of the search parties responded promptly.
The sweetish smell of decaying bodies and burnt meat made the humans and elves wrinkle their noses. Rur supported Frida in the saddle for the last few minutes up to the rendezvous point. Her headache, falling on her like snow in the summertime, zapped her of all her
strength. The forest path was strewn with orc corpses partially corrupted by carrion. Some of them looked like a barl had stomped on them. Near the small pile of stone debris fallen from a cliff lay a few bodies in melted armor, charred beyond recognition.
“Granddaughter?” Miduel turned to the vampire. Frida uttered the magic words and almost collapsed from the saddle. Thank you Rur: he caught her in time. An all-consuming rage swept over the girl. Strange images clouded her vision.
“He was here,” the “granddaughter” said, wiping blood from her nostril with a handkerchief.
“‘Knives,’ the royal killers from the Steppe.” A guard, examining a corpse, wiped his hands on his pants. “Under the left armpit, there’s an orcish tattoo, the symbol of the ‘knives.’ They’re way out from the kingdom of the ‘whites.’”
“How many are there?” Miduel asked, closing his eyes and running his hands over a corpse.
“We counted forty, sire,” a second guard reported.
“Strange happenings under the Goddesses’ Eyes. A whole combat squadron of orcs was lingering about Tantre, and from the kingdom and Rauu principalities’ special forces, not a peep. Were there any survivors?”
“The survivors pillaged the bodies, burned their own dead companions and went to the bald hills. The dragon went with them. A heavy rain has washed away the tracks here, but a little further on we can see very well the dragon’s footprints. There are also footprints of hasses and horses.”
“We track them further.”
“Your Majesty, what shall we do with the bodies?”
“Leave them there. Don’t forget to record the sight in the crystal. His Highness King Gil will find it useful to have an ace up his sleeve during negotiations with the envoys from the Steppe.”
A few hours later, their scouts discovered a cave. The second group found a burnt barl carcass and next to it a sea of scales, most of which were buried deep. The investigators combed every inch of the surrounding area. All clues pointed to the fact that six people were with the dragon, one of them a child. After some time, another one joined them. Judging by the breadth of his step, they supposed the seventh one to be a man. The High Prince only grunted at this news.