Despite the blue-skin’s bulk, Zodarin still stood two spans taller, and he looked down at Tuh-Ma, amber eyes tinged with purple. “It is clear the Praetor incurred the Queen’s displeasure, and with the murder of his agent he may have felt under threat. After all, if a man can be slaughtered in broad daylight in the royal courtyard, then who indeed would feel safe?”
“Why no one found the killer?” Tuh-Ma said.
“Another unsolved problem,” the wizard said, “and it is not for the want of trying. Still, the guard has been trebled, and there have been no further incidents. I think perhaps the Praetor had taken up with some less than savoury characters. I don’t imagine the Queen will mourn his disappearance.”
Phindrath looked increasingly uncomfortable, her already pallid complexion had turned as white as a ghost’s. “You must tell Etezora we are doing all we can,” Phindrath said, but her response was met with a narrowing of the blue-skin’s eyes.
“Let me see the Queen’s scroll,” Zodarin said, taking it from the Captain. He scanned the contents in seconds, and then rolled it back up. “Your Majesty,” he said, addressing the Princess. “You are instructed to take charge of the castle. It seems the Queen had designs on removing the Praetor from command, anyway. Why don’t you write a response, and I will stay with her emissary … to answer any remaining questions he may have?”
Phindrath looked at the wizard’s calm, nodding face and took her cue.
“Yes,” she replied, “that is exactly what I will do. Captain, arrange refreshment for the Queen’s emissary.”
The Captain saluted his response, and Phindrath exited the throne room, lifting her dress clear of her feet and walking at a pace just less than a run.
Once the two of them were alone, Tuh-Ma turned to the wizard and squared up to him, his hooded eyes glowering, and saliva dropping from his jelly lips.
“Wizard, Tuh-Ma not trust you. Never has. My Queen has raged night and day because you have not dealt with the dragons yet. Now, Tuh-Ma sees you have taken one as your pet, riding it as your steed. Tuh-Ma thinks you are traitor!”
The blue-skin was now inches from Zodarin, his eyes flaring with anger. But as he looked into the wizard’s face he faltered, as if seeing something there that gave him pause, reason to fear. Then it passed. But it was enough for the blue-skin to step back and adopt a less threatening pose.
“That is not so my friend,” Zodarin said. “I returned to the castle because I uncovered treachery regarding Eétor. It would have been premature to voice my full suspicions in front of the Princess — she is a delicate soul after all. As I said before, I believe he has taken to hiding. It was my intention to return to our Queen, but my recovery from decimating the dragons in the Dreamworld is slow, and I fatigue quickly.”
The blue-skin was not a quick thinker, and his loyalty was stronger than his intellect, yet even he could not accept such an explanation at face value. “Tuh-Ma not sure,” he said. “Maybe wizard is play-acting. Why should Dreamworld make you tired?”
Zodarin’s eyes flashed. “Come with me to the Far Beyond and experience its delights. Then you will understand the ebb and flow of the energies there.”
Tuh-Ma shook his head vigorously. “Tuh-Ma not trust Dreamworld. He likes it even less than dragons. Why should Tuh-Ma bother? Tuh-Ma should just kill you.”
One more step closer, Zodarin thought, and you will see at last what you are dealing with, blue-skin!
Once again the blue-skin caught a glimpse of the amioid and didn’t press home the threat. “Our Queen needs me,” Zodarin said, “and she will be angry if you harm me.”
The blue-skin considered the wizard’s reply, licked his lips, and then said, “You come back with Tuh-Ma to tell Queen.”
At that moment two servants arrived and placed a tray of drinks in front of them. Zodarin used the interruption to defuse the situation and poured them both a goblet of wine each. He took a sip from one and handed the other to the blue-skin who sniffed it, suspiciously.
“You think it poisoned? Servant — taste the wine for our guest.”
After the nearest had performed his duty, Tuh-Ma was somewhat pacified and risked a draught.
“I am ready to return to the Dreamworld to complete my task,” Zodarin continued. “I believe I can also seek the Dragon Queen. But I am far too weak for a long journey.” The promise of finding Tayem was a lie, but the blue-skin wasn’t to know the laws that governed which peoples were found in the Dreamworld.
“Queen would not be happy if you killed the Dragon Queen. That is to be her pleasure.”
“Quite,” Zodarin said, his tone patronising. “So what can I do to convince you I hold the dragon folk and their wyrms in as much contempt as you do?”
He looked across the courtyard at the small pygmy dragon he had grown attached to, and a thought occurred to him. An uncomfortable notion for sure.
Survival is more important than compassion.
Tuh-Ma followed his gaze and hissed when he saw what Zodarin was staring at.
“You really don’t like them, do you?” the wizard said.
The blue-skin smiled and nodded.
The sorcerer stood motionless and closed his eyes.
In the Dreamworld the wolf moved in for the kill. The attack took the small wyrm by surprise and it collapsed without resistance.
Tuh-Ma watched as the unsuspecting dragon rolled forward in its pen. A seizure had taken hold, and it dropped to the floor like a stone.
Zodarin opened his eyes and regarded the still body on the other side of the courtyard. Inexplicably, he found himself holding back tears.
Curse this blight. Would that it had been you I had slain, troll.
“Perhaps you prove something,” the blue-skin said. He paused or a moment, slurped back a string of spittle then pronounced, “Tuh-Ma not kill you today. Will tell Queen that you still work for her. That you still kill dragons. Maybe she believe you, maybe she won’t. You better pray, wizard. You are not off the hook.”
“Thank you, Emissary, I’m grateful,” replied the wizard. “I will have the royal butcher skin the beast and prepare cuts of meat for the Queen. I’m sure she will enjoy them. Now, if that will be all?” He didn’t wait for a reply, and took his leave, retiring back to the wizard tower. It had been a small foray into the Dreamworld, yet it still fatigued him.
Time is running out. Gods preserve me if I don’t find a cure soon.
Next morning, Tuh-Ma ate a hearty breakfast and saddled up his horse with the best cuts of salted meat from the pygmy dragon. His mount was refreshed, and it wasn’t long before he was travelling at a mighty pace back northward. He would miss the freedom of the castle but was glad to take back his position at the Queen’s side.
The Captain had passed him Phindrath’s scroll for Etezora’s scrutiny, and he only hoped Etezora would be satisfied with the outcome of his mission. He sincerely wished he had been able to dispose of the magic man, but something had brought him up short, something in the wizard’s eyes, something from beyond the Dreamworld.
“Maybe when dragons and their Queen are gone,” he said out loud, “then Queen will let Tuh-Ma deal with wizard.” And as the miles were eaten up, he imagined his misshapen hands closing round Zodarin’s neck, squeezing, constricting. He heard the last rasps of the man in his mind and, last of all, saw the remains of a tentacled thing extinguished forever.
41
For want of a soul
“We grant you sanctuary in Herethorn.”
They were the words that the Dragon Riders had wanted to hear, and despite her initial feelings of affront towards these people, Cistre savoured the relief and gratitude filling her like fresh water from a mountain spring. The re-convened meeting with the Cyclopes was brief, and it wasn’t long before the tasks that now presented themselves began to form a long list of priorities. Tayem thanked Ebar, wisely avoiding questions and requests regarding what would be an inevitable conflict with the Cuscosians.
Mahren was keen t
o make the return journey to the Dragonian encampment as soon as possible, not least because she wanted to be close to Brethis. Yet there was also a pressing need for the Dragonian populace to make the transition before harsh weather set in or — Sesnath forbid it — a raid by the Cuscosians. Ebar commissioned five Gigantes guides, although none were Cyclopes, and gave leave for them to set out by first light. Cistre’s initial assessment of a people lethargic and indolent proved to be hasty. As she saw how the Gigantes rallied together and worked efficiently at accommodating the Dragon Riders, she became impressed at their cohesiveness and obedience.
“They survived the Decimation, and their roots extend back millennia,” Tayem reminded her. “It is perhaps a lesson for us not to judge by appearances too readily. We have been naive regarding the Cuscosians — and similarly not recognised the faces of our true allies.” They had retired to a single cabin reserved for the Queen, and it was only now that Tayem seemed to take down her guard and allow the possibility of a long rest to do its work. However, there was another consultation to engage in before she would permit herself this luxury.
A knock on the cabin door presaged the entry of Milissandia and her father. Cistre had extended a grudging respect towards the druid, but as yet did not fully trust her intentions. As for her father, she would have to apply the recent advice about prejudice from Tayem forcibly as he did not offer an immediate projection of acceptability. The man’s matted, long grey hair hung over a semi-naked dark-skinned body, and the swamp pigment tattoos he wore only added to the appearance of strangeness. His eyes were searching yet held a kindly glint, and Cistre suspected they hid a troubled past. At least there seems to be no malice there.
“Forgive us for interrupting your rest,” Milissandia said, “but we wanted to talk with you as soon as possible.”
“Of course,” Tayem said wearily. “Do sit.”
Dark grey shadows formed crescents under Tayem’s eyes and Cistre noticed she winced every few seconds as if she nursed a serious injury.
“My father has something to say,” the druid said, looking at her father expectantly.
“Speak freely, then,” Tayem replied.
Wobas inclined his head and did not speak for a few seconds. Tayem’s patience was wearing thin, despite her royal sense of decorum straining to keep her from rudeness. “Well then?” she said. “Did you come merely to stare at me?”
Wobas smiled. “You maintain your noble bearing well, Queen Tayem, but I sense the tumult you harbour will not be gainsaid for much longer.”
Tayem shifted uncomfortably. “What exactly do you mean, Shaman?”
“Let us not duel with words. It is crucial that you open up to us if you are to be rid of your torment.”
“My torment?”
“It is written in your eyes. You cannot hold back the tide of what you invited in for much longer.”
Tayem dropped her head, all pretence gone. “What am I to do?”
Wobas looked at Milissandia who nodded back at him. “There is a ritual I can perform for ones afflicted. It requires that I enter the Dreamworld and find their avatar.”
Tayem lifted her head, eyes wide. “You could do this for me?”
“Do you truly want to released from its grip on your soul?”
Tayem hesitated, and then said, “Yes. With all my heart. The Hallows seeks to take over. Every hour of every day it offers the power to bring down my enemies, to fulfil my every dream. But I have seen how it corrupts, and keeping it in check drains my spirit.”
Wobas nodded. “I understand the power of its persuasion. I too was enticed, when Sol-Ar entered the cycle of dominion.”
“There is a Hallows site in Herethorn?” Cistre said.
“Close to my abode high in the mountains,” Wobas said. “But its influence is contained, and up to now I have kept watch over it — to ensure none succumb to its temptation.”
“I noticed how Sol-Ar’s colour seems not to affect the skies over Herethorn,” Tayem added.
“The Ancients have blessed this place,” Wobas said. “Their blessing rises from deep in the mountains, inhabits the very soil and air we breathe.”
Tayem reached out and touched his arm. “When can you do this?”
Cistre saw the desperation on her Queen’s face and a deep solicitude rose in response to her plight. Oh how I wish I could have helped you more.
Wobas frowned. “This is not an easy thing. First, the Donnephon do not have a counterpart in the Far Beyond as other races do. This has kept you safe from marauders in that realm, but it also means there is nothing for me to establish a connection with.”
“Then it is impossible?” Tayem replied, her shoulders sagging.
“There is a way,” Wobas said. “You will need to come with us into the Dreamworld by your own choice. The journey is not without risk, and you will need deep reserves of strength.”
Tayem sighed. “I am exhausted tonight.”
“Then you must rest, for we will attempt to accomplish this tomorrow,” Wobas said. “I too need to make preparations of my own.”
“My Queen,” Cistre said. “Is this wise? We don’t know what the dangers are. What if this journey proves too perilous? What if you never come back?”
Tayem turned back to Wobas. “These risks — what are they?”
“Your presence in the Dreamworld may attract others’ attentions,” Milissandia said to Tayem.
“What others?”
Wobas’s brow furrowed. “Spiritual predators. There is one in particular I have reason to fear. I encountered him on my last sojourn there.”
“Can we not combat it?” Tayem asked.
“Combat? I fear he is too powerful. But we might avoid his detection long enough to achieve what needs to be done.”
“What is its name, this predator?” Tayem asked.
“In Old-speak it is called levethix di wurunwi. But its counterpart in the Near To is a wizard called Zodarin.”
“The Cuscosian sorcerer?” Tayem said, eyes growing wider.
“He is not of Cuscosian blood,” Wobas said. “In truth I don’t know exactly who or what he is. I thought I knew him once, but that was many moons ago.”
Tayem looked at her feet. “It seems I will be putting you in danger too, Shaman.”
“Both I and my daughter, yes. Yet even if we were not to attempt this thing for you, our destiny is tied up in the Far Beyond. There are other matters we must attend to there.”
“Then, we should proceed.” She looked at Cistre, as if seeking permission. “I cannot bear this turmoil any longer, and I fear what I will become should I lose control.”
“You speak aright,” Milissandia said. “We only have to look to the Cuscosian Queen to see that.”
“There is one more thing you should know,” Wobas said. “The levethix di wurunwi. It is he who is responsible for the death of your dragons.”
And that is all it took for the Hallows to rise in Tayem. She picked up a wooden ornament from the table next to her and crushed it in her white-knuckled fist.
Cistre gripped her arm. “My Queen — ”
“Then maybe it is good that we should meet this Zodarin in the Dreamworld. I would crush him as I did this figure.”
Wobas looked startled for the first time. “Queen Tayem. Its power is even greater than yours. In the Dreamworld you will be in his domain, and even your Hallows power will not prevail. He too is infested with its malevolence.”
“Your Majesty,” Milissandia said, “we have told you this, not so you can exact your revenge but so you understand who our foe is. The predator will be brought down, but not on this occasion. It will require spiritual weapons, and my father and I have much to discover and prepare before we are ready for that encounter.”
Cistre kept hold of Tayem until the Hallows ire subsided. When it did, she posed another question to the shaman of the Gigantes. “What is your plan?”
“I will tell you,” he replied. And so he did. The four of them discussed wha
t they must do until Tayem could hold her eyes open no longer.
“The morning then?” Tayem said, her words slurring.
“The morning,” Wobas repeated, and left with his druid daughter at his side.
~ ~ ~
When Sol-Ar’s glow first appeared through the Eastern Ardesk pass, Mahren shouldered her pack and set off with the small accompaniment of Dragon Riders and Gigantes guides. Tayem watched them disappear into the Herethorn forests, confident they were in safe hands. She now had her own journey to make. Milissandia’s potion had given her a reasonable night’s sleep, but with morning’s light the Hallows was back with a vengeance. Almost as if it anticipates its expulsion, she thought.
She turned to Wobas and said, “I am ready.”
The shaman nodded. “Then let us be about our task.”
The rite Wobas wanted to perform would be carried out in Tayem’s cabin. It was as good a place as any. Entry to the Dreamworld did not require any artefact or sanctum. The power to transfer was innate for the shaman. Milissandia, on the other hand, required her anduleso paste and yellow mushroom.
The four of them, Cistre included, sat down and steeled themselves for what was to come. Milissandia had made it clear she and her father would carry out a brief preliminary sortie. If there was no danger, Wobas would return for Tayem who would also partake of Milissandia’s concoction. Herein lay the risk: Milissandia had only ventured into the Dreamworld a handful of times; each of which was only for a short spell. She had yet to calculate the optimum dosage of ingredients, and there was no supposing these would be the same for Tayem. Too much and she might remain in the Dreamworld, and they would not be able to revive her. Who knew if they might have to make a hasty exit? It would have been much easier if I had my own permanent avatar in the Dreamworld, Tayem thought. What peculiarity of Donnephon lore prevents this?
Tayem was almost oblivious regarding the risks to herself, saying that as long as the two Gigantes were safe, they need not concern themselves with her. It didn’t take much to see past her motivation, however. The chance to engage with Zodarin and bring an end to him overcame any sense of realism regarding her prospects, and she welcomed the opportunity to be rid of the Hallows — whatever the cost. If she should die in combat with this levethix di wurunwi, then so be it.
Cradle of Darkness Page 35