Whill gave a sigh. “I thought that we might know peace for a time, but it seems that time has passed.”
“Perhaps they can be bargained with.”
Whill shrugged. “We shall see.”
Chapter 8
Know Thy Enemy
Zerafin and Azzeal reached Rhuniston after two days of travel. They were not entirely surprised to see the army of drekkon stretched across the hill, for the smoke hovering over the camp had given them away long before they were in sight. The fact that the drekkon cooked their food was unsettling to Zerafin, but of course, Azzeal found it all quite enthralling. He scribbled in his notebook with a queer smile on his face, and his wonderment seemed so innocent to Zerafin that he was once again awed by his friend’s mind.
Zerafin led the enchanted Azzeal around the drekkon army, giving the strange creatures a wide berth. The smell of charred meat hung on the air. There was an acrid smell to it, and a hint of death that told Zerafin that some if not all the meat had already spoiled before it was cooked. Looking closer, Zerafin noted that all the drekkon wore clothes, and some even appeared to be female.
“Is that…are they…are those breasts?” said Azzeal.
“They appear to be.”
“Incredible.” Azzeal began scratching in his notepad with renewed vigor.
Zerafin leaned on his horse and glanced over. Azzeal had been sketching a female drekkon, and the drawing was incredibly accurate.
Azzeal noticed Zerafin’s attention and asked, “Do you think that they lay their eggs like draggard queens?”
“I do not know. They look much more mammalian than their predecessors.”
Azzeal nodded affably, flipped the page, and began scribbling anew.
“Do you see any energy crystals on their weapons?” said Zerafin, having not seen any himself.
“I have not. If indeed they use them, perhaps they are inside the weapons.”
“It makes me wonder if their magic was affected by the taking of power.”
Azzeal considered that before writing it down. “Ah,” he said, pointing at the gate. “Perhaps we should ask Whill and Avriel.”
Zerafin noted the grave expression hiding just behind Whill’s smile. The guards upon the battlements looked similarly disturbed by the appearance of the drekkon, though they stood upon enchanted stone imbued with wards by Whill himself, who used a power that not even Zerafin understood.
“I see that you have met our new friends,” said Zerafin as he dismounted.
“They have been here for two days,” said Whill.
“We encountered a party of their kind near the ruins of Urren’Dar,” said Zerafin. “I asked for an audience with their king.”
Whill nodded. “I have set up a meeting with him for tomorrow.”
“Ah, good.”
“What do you make of them?” said Azzeal, whose eyes remained transfixed on the creatures until the gate finally closed behind him.
“They are intelligent, to be sure,” said Whill. “And I have felt magic emanating from some of them.”
“If they are anything like the draggard, then there will be war,” said Avriel.
“Not if it can be helped.” Zerafin glanced back at the gate. “Do we know the truth of their numbers?”
“I have followed their path using mind sight,” said Whill. “They come from the far north, above Lake Ellarin. Their dwellings are underground, and vast. I estimate their numbers to be in the hundreds of thousands.”
“Are you sure?” said Zerafin.
“I’m afraid so.”
“What else have you seen?” Azzeal asked.
“There are males and females, and from what I saw, there appeared to be tight-knit families. They do not have queens like the draggard, but rather they mate much like humans, elves, and dwarves. But unlike us, they lay large eggs that will not hatch without a strong fire.”
“Incredible,” Azzeal mumbled to himself as he scribbled in his small notebook.
“If their numbers are what you have guessed, they pose a greater threat than I had first thought,” said Zerafin.
“Let us see what comes of the meeting with Gnawrok,” said Whill. “Perhaps they can be bargained with.”
“You would make allies with such creatures?” said Zerafin.
Azzeal stopped his scribbling, and everyone looked at Whill.
“I would rather make allies than war. They have done us no harm.”
“Yet,” said Avriel. “They threatened our lives if we do not leave these shores.”
“Leave?” said Zerafin. “That is not an option.”
“I agree,” said Whill. “But war is the last option. There is always a better way.”
“Yes, so say the Morenka,” said Azzeal with a peaceful smile.
“What are you so happy about?” Avriel asked, looking at the Ralliad like he had two heads.
“Aside from the impending danger, you must admit that it is all quite enthralling. To think that Eadon created thinking, feeling beings is incredible.”
“They are bred from natural born killers,” said Avriel.
Azzeal shook his head. “Not necessarily. He may have simply refined the process of crossing dragon and elf. It is true that the draggard, and other crossbreeds like the dwargon, were created to be weapons, but I think that these drekkon were made with another purpose in mind. You said yourself, Whill, that you felt magic emanating from them, and we saw firsthand that magic being used.”
“Then it is worse than we thought,” said Avriel, looking to Whill. “Perhaps we should evacuate the children.”
“How would that look to the others?” said Zerafin.
Avriel raised a brow at her brother. “I don’t give a good godsdamned how it looks. There are how many? Hundreds of thousands of these…these things?”
“It is not like you to run from a fight,” said Azzeal.
“And neither do I put my children in danger.”
“I am sorry, my queen. I spoke without thinking. I apologize.”
“There is no need to apologize,” said Avriel.
“Come,” said Whill, glancing at the eavesdropping guards upon the battlements. “Let us go where there are fewer ears.”
Chapter 9
Into the Deep
Roakore raised the torch, illuminating tunnels that surely had not seen firelight in thousands of years. The air down here was thin and acrid and full of mushroom musk. The fungal fruit glowed in these parts, which was not a common occurrence in Agora. The elves called the glowing mushrooms Illuminatic Phallusii, but Roakore preferred Philo’s name for them.
“These pecker lanterns sure come in handy,” said Philo before tossing back a flask.
Roakore chuckled and took the absently offered container. He tossed back a shot, ignoring the burning liquid. “Just keep yer eyes peeled, and feel around yer head for any intrusions.”
“Ye really think that they can take over yer mind like?”
“I’ve seen stranger things,” said Roakore.
“Bah,” said Philo with raucous laughter. “I once seen a lass with three nip—”
“Shhh!”
They both listened, and the sound came again, a blurp-blurp that echoed through the tunnel.
“It just be a drip,” said Philo.
“Just quit bein’ so damn loud. We ain’t sneakin’ up on no deaf farmer, ye know.”
“Who says they ain’t deaf? And I bet ye they be blind. Whatever they be.”
Roakore stopped and turned to regard his friend. “Ye think they be blind?”
“Yeah, think about it. Even we dwarves got to have plenty o’ sunlight when we be growin’ up so we don’t end up blind. Well, what if these creatures ain’t never had that kind o’ stimulation?”
Roakore shook his head, not liking where he thought Philo was going with the thought. “Now that be ridiculous. Plenty o’ creatures can see without havin’ the sun all the time, can’t they? What ye be sayin’…what ye be insinuatin’ be that these cr
eatures be dwarf-like?”
Philo shrugged. “Look at these tunnels.” He ran a hand over the grooved surface. “This may have been dug out by dwarves, but it was engraved by somethin’ else.”
Roakore felt the curved wall and nearly gasped. He looked closely, for the grooves were faint to the touch, but with the torch to the wall, he made out the fine bumps and ridges. The closer he looked, the more he realized that these were no random patterns, for many of them repeated.
“These be…these be characters. This be writin’!”
“Aye,” said Philo with a contented nod. “Ye heard o’ that blind human writin’, braille. Well, these bumps and ridges made me think o’ that, and that be why I thought maybe they be blind.”
“And when did ye think all this up?”
Philo burped loudly. “Between shots.”
Roakore shook his head. “Ye got to be so loud?”
“If they be blind, then they smelled us long ago. Ain’t no point in bein’ quiet.”
A shiver ran down Roakore’s hairy back, and he white-knuckled his axe. His hand glided along the strange writing on the tunnel walls as he continued downward. This tunnel had been the one that the Pikes had been exploring, and even they hadn’t gone this far. He glanced back, noting the shadows that the trailing six dwarves made on the walls.
A noise suddenly erupted behind them, and both Roakore and Philo brought their weapons to bear. One of the trailing dwarves cried out, and a shadow burst across the tunnel wall like a fleeing phantom. Roakore summoned his inner power and prepared to strike. But when his cousin Raene turned the corner, he let out a pent-up breath and lowered his weapons.
“Ky’Dren’s hairy ass, Raene! Ye almost got yerself blasted.”
“What’s wrong?” she said, coming to a stop, panting, and grabbing Philo’s flask. “Ye scared?” She tossed back a shot and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.
“Scared?” Roakore sputtered and spat. “Ye out yer head? Quiet now, we be on the trail, to be sure.”
“Trail o’ what?”
“Blind dwarf creatures who wrote these here glyphs into the tunnel walls,” said Philo.
“Bah, but we ain’t knowin’ that,” Roakore protested.
Raene ran her hand along the walls and peered at the strange writing closely. “Blind dwarf creatures, ye say?”
“It be a theory,” said Roakore. But Philo had an audience, and he went on telling Raene all about it for the next ten minutes.
Meanwhile, Roakore led them down deeper into the mountain.
The glyphs on the tunnel walls continued as they descended a steep stairwell, which eventually opened to a small cavern. Here, stalactites and stalagmites met, creating large columns that hid the entirety of the cavern from view. The glowing mushrooms were here as well, and much bigger than they had been in the tunnel. Dwarven hands had been at work smoothing the cavern walls, but that had been long ago, for the work had been marred by time. A smooth walkway snaked through the cavern, leading to a distant opening, which was apparently the only other way in or out.
“This be a good place to seal off this system if it be comin’ to that,” said Philo.
“Aye,” said Roakore, half listening. He was focused on the darkness at the other end of the cavern.
He drew closer, checking behind every column and chasing away the shadows with his torch. He felt uneasy here, as though someone were watching him.
“Ye feel that?” Raene asked.
“Ye took the words right out o’ me mouth,” Roakore replied.
“Feels like we’re bein’ watched,” Philo added. “And the back o’ me head be tinglin’.”
“Careful now,” said Roakore, scanning the dark passage as he crept closer. “Guard yer mind.”
Guard yer mind…
Roakore stopped. The words had been in his head, and now faint laughter echoed in his mind. He was about to ask the others if they had heard it too, but then he saw a pair of beady, glowing red eyes in the darkness of the tunnel.
“Ye there!” Roakore cried. “Show yerself!”
Behind him, Philo and Raene drew their weapons. The eyes blinked once, twice, and suddenly a pale, hairless creature erupted from the shadows. Roakore instinctively hit it with a blast of mental energy, taking control of it and tacking it to the wall. The creature writhed and hissed, bearing tiny razor-sharp teeth and clawing at the invisible force that held it.
“What in the bloody hells be that thing?” said Raene with utter disgust.
Roakore couldn’t answer. A powerful force suddenly attacked his mind, dizzying him and forcing him to let go. He felt the intrusion intensify, but he pushed back, growling with the effort.
Get out o’ me head, ye blasted demon!
The creature fell to the floor and landed on all fours. Philo charged forward, his big axe gleaming in the torchlight, but as he brought the weapon down to crack the creature’s skull, his body suddenly froze. Raene charged past Roakore as he mentally grappled with the creature. Her shield led the way, and should have slammed the creature into the stone, but she too froze.
Fight, fight, kill each other…the voice hissed in Roakore’s mind.
Philo turned with a grimace, fighting, as they all were, against the mental attack. He swung his heavy axe at Raene, but she twirled away from the attack.
“Ye gots to fight it, Philo!” Roakore had to force the words out, desperately trying to take control of his body.
The albino creature slunk back to the darkness of the tunnel, and suddenly the mental onslaught doubled in force as laughter echoed in the shadows.
Roakore found himself charging Philo, and their axes came together with a spark and a deafening clang. Raene entered the fray, shield slamming Roakore and denting Philo’s chest plate with her heavy spiked mace. Roakore stumbled before regaining his balance and slamming Raene with a mental blast that sent her colliding with the distant wall. She bounced off, landed on her feet, and retaliated instantly, mentally pushing Roakore into a hanging stalactite. The force snapped the spike, and as Roakore landed on his back and slid across the floor, he extended his arms and mentally grabbed ahold of the pillar. He tossed it to the side. where it broke against the wall. Coming to his feet, he found Raene and Philo locked in heated battle. If he didn’t do something soon, someone was going to die.
Fight, fight, kill, kill, kill!
Roakore grabbed his head and roared, focusing all his mental might into the cry and pushing with his mind.
For a fleeting moment, the creature’s mind was forced from his, and Roakore wasted no time in retaliation. He spotted the glowing red eyes in the tunnel and reached out a hand. He caught mental hold of the creature and pulled with all his might. The albino waif screamed as it was pulled through the air. It redoubled its efforts, snaking its way into Roakore’s mind.
But too late.
Roakore caught the creature by the throat with his gnarled right hand, and in one quick jerk, snapped its neck.
A dozen feet away, Raene froze. She had gotten the best of Philo and had been seconds away from caving in his head with her shield. Philo stared up at her, panting, with a big smile on his face.
“Ye know, lass. I always said that if a female could best me in combat, I’d marry her.”
“In yer dreams,” she said before pulling her shield away from his face.
“Come on, ye two, we got to get the hells out o’ here,” said Roakore, glancing back the way they had come and wondering where the trailing dwarf warriors had gone to.
Philo and Raene followed close on his heels as they rushed back up through the tunnel leading from the cavern. They sped up a long stairwell, turned a corner at the landing, and froze. Ten feet away, five dwarves lay in a pool of blood, hacked to death. A lone dwarf with a blood-covered face stood staring at his dripping axe.
Roakore gasped. “By Ky’Dren’s beard…”
“A little white creature made me do it…made us all fight,” said the dwarf. He held up a shaking
hand that held another strange-looking stone. “And he gave me this.”
“No!” Roakore cried, but too late.
The glowing stone exploded, disintegrating the dwarf in a flash and sending a storm of fire and stone shooting down both ends of the tunnel. Roakore extended his hands and mentally pushed against everything coming his way. The firestorm pummeled him with its force, meeting the mental barrier with such power that Roakore was slammed against the wall where the tunnel curved. He felt his bones breaking and his armor denting in to crush him, but he held strong. Raene and Philo had ducked around the corner in time, but if Roakore did not keep the flames at bay, his friends would die. The heat was unbearable, but Roakore only growled against the pain and turned his head to the side, hoping to spare his eyes.
As soon as it had begun, the firestorm died, and Roakore fell to his knees, choking on the smoke now filling the tunnel.
“Roakore!” Philo rushed to his side, grabbed him beneath the waist, and pulled him up.
Raene helped Philo move him down the tunnel, away from the smoke. Somewhere along the way, Roakore lost consciousness.
He awoke to Raene gently shaking him. He opened his eyes slowly, and pain greater than anything he had ever known hit him in relentless waves. It felt as if every bone in his body was broken, and the right side of his face felt as though it were on fire. He lay on his back, shaking and growling like an injured bear.
“Golden…vial,” he struggled to say.
“What vial?” Raene asked desperately. “Where it be?”
“Side…pouch.”
Raene rummaged through the pouch and pulled out the carefully wrapped golden vial. Inside, the blood of the gold dragon shimmered like liquid metal. Raene put the vial to Roakore’s lips, which quivered as the blood slowly drizzled over them. It tasted like copper and honey, and filled Roakore’s stomach with a deep warmth. He pulled his head back, not wanting to drink it all, and closed his eyes as his body began to tingle and his pain washed away. His broken bones slowly healed, and his blackened face scabbed over as it healed and was made anew.
Dark Echoes of Light Page 6