by Lisa Shearin
I waved for Calik and Dasant to bring Sapphira and Amaranth down.
When their claws touched rock, the dragons received the same welcome and, like Mithryn, they were not amused.
“Let me see what I can do about this.” Agata threw her right leg over Mithryn’s neck and slid down her shoulder to land on the ground—and not feet first.
I winced in sympathy.
“Okay, my legs aren’t working,” she called up to me.
That was going to be the challenge for all of us.
I had ridden all night on many occasions, but all of those times had been on a horse. Sentry dragons were considerably larger. And we had been flying at a speed far beyond that of the swiftest horse. And while our legs had been strapped down to prevent falling off, basic survival instincts made those not familiar with travel by dragon clench their legs to ensure they didn’t end up as a greasy spot on the desert floor.
My team knew not to do that. However, I’d forgotten to mention it to Agata, Talon, and Phaelan.
My bad. Though in my defense, I’d had a lot on my mind.
But better late than never. “You might want to take it—”
Talon hit the ground, gasped, and emitted a pained squeak.
“Easy,” I finished.
And Talon and Phaelan would have an additional source of pain that Agata would not. Again, a detail I should have mentioned.
Phaelan flopped over Mithryn’s flank to the ground. When he could breathe again, his words blistered the air blue. They were in Elvish. Even if we didn’t all understand the language, we would have gotten the gist.
Jash laughed. A laugh that went up a few octaves the instant his boots hit the sand, then he made his own verbal contributions. In Goblin. Again, no translation necessary.
The rest of us gingerly dismounted.
“Stretch, get a drink and a bite to eat, and take care of anything that needs doing,” I told them. “We take off in twenty minutes.”
I walked over to where Jash was standing bent over with his hands on his knees. He blew out his breath in a pained hiss as he slowly straightened up.
“Tell me why I’m here again?” he asked me.
“Keep anyone from sneaking up on us, and to use that water-filled microportal of yours.”
“Right now, I’m not sure those are good enough reasons.” He put his hands to his back and stretched, resulting in several large pops. “I’m too old for this crap.”
“You’re not even thirty, and you’re younger than me.”
“Like I said, too old.”
“Well, it’s not much farther,” I told him. “At least the flying part.”
“Then it’ll be dank, dark tunnels. Oh joy.”
I lowered my voice and tilted my head. “That cliff?”
“Yeah?”
“That’s the one from my dreams.”
“With Sarad?”
“Those are the ones.”
“Why the whispering? Everybody knows about them.”
“I don’t know. Something about it feels wrong.”
“You had dreams. Sarad Nukpana was in them. That’s plenty enough wrong for anyone.”
“That’s not it.”
“Then what is it?”
“It feels as if I’ve been here before—and not in a dream.” I hesitated. I knew of only one way to describe what I’d felt when I’d seen the cliff. When you had a history of delving into black magic, there wasn’t much that could creep you out, but this did.
“And not in this life,” I finished.
“Kansbar?” Jash asked quietly.
I nodded once. “As little as I like it, it’s the only other option I can come up with.”
“You think it came from signing your name in blood in Rudra’s book?”
“Perhaps. It may have helped trigger it. Rudra tore into Kansbar’s memories, but there wasn’t this kind of detail. It’s like recalling a memory—my memory—of a place I’ve never been before.”
“Okay, that is spooky.”
“Yeah.”
A mage’s name was powerful. Our blood was even more so. Using both was asking for every kind of trouble. The vilest of curses could be worked with the blood signature of a rival mage. I’d heard of a mage using a blood-locked book to kill all his rivals—all of whom had read it by signing their names in their blood.
I’d signed my name in that book because I had to know what Kansbar had seen and experienced. It’d been risky as hell, but to learn as much as I could about what we’d be facing, I’d had no choice but to take that risk.
I had the small book on me, shielded in a protective canvas sleeve beneath my chest armor. I had finished reading it, but I wasn’t about to go anywhere without it—or let it go anywhere without me. For the book to fall into the wrong hands could be fatal. See previous statement regarding a mage killing all who had read a certain blood-locked book.
I had discovered in short order that one of the consequences of signing my name in blood on the same page as Sarad Nukpana was a dream link. As distasteful as having Sarad visit me in my dreams was, it had the benefit of allowing me to trick information out of him.
I had yet to have Sandrina Ghalfari visit me in my sleep, but that didn’t mean that she couldn’t. Perhaps she preferred to take advantage of a more strategic connection—tracking and finding me while I was awake. I could shield my physical body and ward my mind, but the connection granted by a blood-linked book went deeper, beyond any ability to shield or ward.
I’d known that, too.
Jash was silent for a few moments. “You’re twisting the ring.”
I glanced down at my hands. My left hand was busily turning the ring on my right hand.
“You think the rock had anything to do with you ‘remembering’ this place?” he asked.
“It is a power source,” I said. “And there’s never been an opportunity to determine what all they’re capable of.”
“Like storing memories? Kansbar wore the ring and the pendant from the time he left Nidaar until he reached the coast. The land was still shaking with quakes and aftershocks. I imagine he saw all kinds of memorable things, things he would’ve loved to have forgotten.” He paused. “Stones of power can bond with their wearer.”
“You don’t have to remind me.”
“I think we can say that the Saghred was a special case. You’re not feeling manipulated, are you?”
“No.”
“Though it wouldn’t be a bad thing if the rock nudged you in the general direction of its mother.”
I gazed up at the top of the cliff. I needed to go up there. If the Heart’s shard in my ring was nudging me or activating Kansbar’s memories stored inside, I needed to give it every chance to tap those memories.
Chapter Six
Jash went to water the dragons, and I searched for a way to get to the top of the cliff. On the west side, rocks had slid into more or less a natural stairway. That would get me most of the way up. I’d figure out the rest when I got there.
Agata approached from our landing site, the wind catching her desert cloak. “Mind if I tag along? I need to get a more accurate reading on our direction.”
As we climbed, I shared what I had told Jash, and his theories.
“If that was the case,” she said, “it stands to reason that I would be having flashes of Kansbar’s memory as well. Unless it is somehow tied to a blood relationship.”
“Kansbar never fathered children, so I couldn’t be a direct descendant.”
Agata shrugged. “You’re both Nathrachs. Perhaps a direct relation isn’t necessary.”
As we neared the top, there were enough hand-and footholds to get us the rest of the way. I went first and did a quick scan of the surrounding land with my mortal senses and with magic. The feeling that I’d been here before was even stronger. The light was entirely different. It was dawn now, and had been midday then.
There were no signs of life of any kind, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t beautiful, b
reathtakingly so.
The sun was just beginning to rise over the eastern horizon, spreading its first rays across the land we’d spent the night flying over, the light alternating between a rosy glow where the rising sun highlighted the landscape, with the areas behind rock formations still hidden in shadow and darkness.
“It’s clear,” I said, holding out my hand to assist Agata the rest of the way.
Agata rolled her eyes, but she took my hand, and I pulled her up. She turned, and when she saw the sun rising over the Sea of Kenyon over a hundred miles to the east, and the land between us and the sea stretched out at our feet, her dark eyes sparkled in wonder and delight.
We stood in silence, taking it all in. I noticed that Agata’s hand was still in mine, small and warm.
As soon as I noticed, Agata realized it as well, and slipped her hand from mine, quickly walking to where she could see our landing site.
“There’s one major difference between us that you don’t seem to have considered,” she said.
I did a confused double-take. “Excuse me?”
“A difference between us. The reason you’re possibly experiencing flashbacks from Kansbar and I’m not, even though we’re both wearing pieces of the Heart.”
Oh, that difference.
“While we both carry a piece of the Heart given to Kansbar,” Agata continued, “you signed your name in blood on the first page of Rudra Muralin’s book. I didn’t. Rudra had direct access to Kansbar’s memories. I’m not familiar with how these things work, but listening to you read, I didn’t get much of a visual of what Aquas looked like. I’m assuming Rudra only wrote down what he felt would be useful in finding Nidaar. He didn’t describe this cliff in his book, but he must have seen it in Kansbar’s memories.”
“So signing my name got me more than simply the words on the page.”
Agata spread her hands. “Like I said, I don’t know how these things work. Is that possible?”
“It’s not impossible. It is, however, an extremely unpleasant thought.”
“I’ll not disagree with you there.” She took off the necklace. “Your ring, please.”
I slipped it off my finger and slid it onto the fourth finger of her outstretched left hand.
“Let’s get this done.” Agata knelt on the ground and pressed her hands into the loose pebbles.
It didn’t take long for her to confirm that we were still going in the right direction. The good news was that the mountain was less than an hour’s flight ahead. The bad news was that it looked exactly like every other mountain in the range, and none of them had any obvious entrances. The Khrynsani had never found a way into the mountain in their hundreds of years of expeditions.
For all we knew, our time had run out.
As I stood there, the sunlight glinted on the desert floor to the south.
Glinted?
I put my hand on Agata’s shoulder, holding her where she was. “Veil and stay down.”
She looked up at me, and for once didn’t question.
It was too late for me to duck, so I veiled and shielded.
The glint didn’t move but it also didn’t belong here—and neither did the dark patches on the ground nearby.
We needed to get a close look at that, much closer.
Getting down from the cliff went a lot faster than climbing up.
The possibility of spotting signs of pursuit was a powerful motivator.
We had brought Indigo with us for scouting.
Talon tugged the hood off and sent the little firedrake flying into the dawn sky with a lift from his wrist. Once again, Indy was wearing a harness with a spy crystal.
As the firedrake climbed in the air, his color changed to match the sky around him, and he nearly vanished. Only the faint beating of his wings betrayed his position. Once he found a wind current, he would go into a glide, becoming essentially invisible to anyone below, including us.
Talon’s pale eyes were locked on Indy’s position with unblinking, complete concentration.
Malik was equally intent on the small crystal ball clutched in his hand, seeing what the crystal on the firedrake’s chest was recording.
In the crystal ball, we watched the drake’s view of our small encampment as he flew higher, gaining altitude, until we were specks on the ground and the dunes and rocks spread in an endless sea to the south and east.
When Indy reached the area where I had seen what looked to be bodies, the drake’s prey drive kicked in and he descended for a closer look.
Details came into gruesome focus.
I would be lying if I said I wasn’t glad to see that the dead, dismembered, and partially eaten bodies were Khrynsani and Sythsaurian. As far as my team was concerned, the only good Khrynsani was a dead Khrynsani. And since the Sythsaurians were their allies in our destruction, dead lizard men were a sight for sore eyes as well.
Malik was smiling down at the carnage reflected in his crystal ball. “Beautiful work. A trifle haphazard, but well done.”
The black I had seen from the cliff was both cloth and blood.
Jash looked like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “They wore those heavy black robes of theirs in the desert?”
Elsu chuckled. “Idiots.”
“Evil idiots,” Jash added.
Malik continued to smile fondly at the crystal-confined tableau. “Yes, but they’re our evil idiots.” His smile broadened into a grin. “Or at least these were.”
I headed toward Mithryn. “Saddle up, we need to get a closer look.”
Whatever had killed and partially eaten the goblins and lizard men was long gone. That didn’t mean we weren’t alert for their return. Three fire-breathing sentry dragons should be able to handle anything that tried to take a bite out of us, but I thought my caution was well-founded.
Whatever had done this clearly preferred goblin meat.
Phaelan had his sword out and used the tip to raise the cloak of one of the dead Sythsaurians.
“There’s a lot left of this one,” the elf noted. “Lizards must not taste good.”
Indigo jumped down from his perch on Talon’s shoulder and hopped over to sniff the body. He quickly pulled back in what I could only call revulsion.
“They must taste really nasty,” Talon noted. “Even Indy doesn’t want anything to do with them, and he’ll eat anything.”
The black robes, a lot of blood, and various bits and pieces were all that was left of the Khrynsani.
There was more blood than could have been contained in the relatively intact bodies that we found. However, there were pieces of others, and signs of still more having been dragged away.
“Eat some now, take a few home for later?” Malik mused.
The ground was hard and not conducive to footprints, but there was more than enough blood to show us the size of the predators who’d done this.
I knelt to get a closer look at one print. It was twice the size of my hand—with claws that punched into the soil where blood had soaked into it.
There were signs that at least the Khrynsani had tried to defend themselves. In addition to the stink of disemboweled bodies we smelled the acrid sting of fire magic. Charred streaks marked the rock, and where it had struck sand, glass had formed from the intense heat.
“Eight Khrynsani and five Sythsaurians from what I can tell,” Malik said.
I stood. “Judging from the scraps of robes, at least some of those were senior mages. Whatever these things are, they’re either impervious to magic—which is unlikely—or the attack was so sudden they didn’t have a chance to properly defend themselves.”
“The mages burnt a lot of rock and sand,” Agata noted. “But there’re no dead attackers to show for it.” She glanced over at Sapphira’s feet. “Is it me, or do those tracks kind of look like Saffie’s?”
Dasant stood from where he had been examining one of the dead-and-tasted-but-not-eaten Sythsaurians. “I’d say from the bite radius on this one’s torso, plus the size and depth o
f those claw prints, we’re talking about a beastie that’s at least in the dragon family, though thankfully not a fire-breather. The distance between the front and back feet would put these things at well over a dozen feet long and several hundred pounds.”
“There’s no sign of dragons or horses,” Agata pointed out. “How did the Khrynsani get here? And why here?”
I felt a sudden chill that had nothing to do with cold.
My dream.
Agata noticed and instantly knew the reason. “Sarad knows of this place, and so do the Khrynsani. If there is a portal—”
“I don’t sense any portal magic here,” Jash said.
I’d surveyed the area around where the attack had taken place. “There are no footprints other than in this area.”
Jash shrugged. “Maybe the lizards handled the transportation. We already know their magic feels different. Some of that residual magic could be from a portal.”
“Over here!” Talon called.
I ran to where he stood.
Blood and scraps of Khrynsani robes trailed off the edge of a six-foot-wide crack in the ground that extended some twenty feet in either direction.
Talon’s voice was subdued. “Like Malik said, eat some here, leave some for later. Can you see the bottom?”
I carefully leaned forward. “No.”
Without another word, we started backed away from the opening. Talon stumbled on a small rock, sending it tumbling over the edge. It bounced its way down, and down, and down. I didn’t hear it hit bottom.
Anyone that fell—or was dragged—down there, if they survived, wouldn’t be coming out the way they came in.
The others had come up behind us.
“This could be one reason why some of those Khrynsani expeditions never came home,” I said.
“I’m having a disturbing thought,” Elsu said.
“Only one?” Jash was starting to look queasy. The stench was getting to him.
“These dragon things, they’re big, so they eat a lot. They’re obviously not going without. What are they eating? It may look like nothing lives out here, but it’s apparent that looks are deceiving.”