by Dave Gross
Oparal's thrashing worked against me, but I managed to yank her backward. We fell, stumbling over each other's legs until she crashed down on me. I moaned, worried she'd broken my hip. In all that armor, the girl was heavy.
"Get them off!" she cried, not exactly shouting but not exactly calm, either. The way she jerked every time one of the bugs found exposed flesh, I couldn't tell whether she was just disgusted or they were really hurting her. Her gauntlet came away wet with yellow bug gunk and red blood, answering that question.
"Here they come," groaned Caladrel.
He drew his curveblade and waited for the wisps. Before they reached us, they vanished.
"What's that mean?" I asked, disentangling myself from Oparal. Kemeili slapped grubs off Oparal with her coiled whip. I did the same with the backs of my hands.
"They're still here," said Caladrel. "They're just waiting."
"For what?"
Another earth-shuddering cry from the dragon answered that question.
"For her."
"We must get off the street," said the boss.
"We can't go in there," groaned Fimbulthicket. "They'll eat us alive."
"Stand back," said the boss. He snapped a riffle scroll. A glint of flame appeared in his eyes. He stepped forward and opened his mouth as if to shout at the bugs. Instead of words, fire poured out of his mouth.
"No, she'll see!" said Caladrel.
Flames filled the little building, incinerating the nest. The larva whistled and popped, sausages left too long on the fire.
I poked my head around the corner to see whether the dragon noticed the commotion. It circled the central plaza before gliding off to the east. I let go a sigh of relief. "Desna smiles. It didn't see us."
"Not so fast," said Caladrel. Black smoke poured out of the burned chamber. It rose above us in a column nobody in the city could miss.
"A calculated risk," said the boss. I heard the lame tone in his excuse, but maybe the others didn't know him well enough to pick up on it. "Still, we must get inside before the dragon detects us."
"Too late for that," said Oparal, pointing.
As the smoke rose in a black column, the dragon flew straight toward us.
"Go," barked Caladrel. He shoved Fimbulthicket toward the smoking entrance. "Get off the street!"
The gnome balked before the smoldering bug nest. I scooped him up under my arm, grabbing his pack with my free hand. I paused long enough to make sure the boss and Arni were coming, and I went in.
My boots squelched on the charred bug larvae. I kicked through animal bones and moved down the stairs. Lumps of pulp, fur, and teeth clung to the walls. I tried not to think too hard about what mama bug brought home for supper.
At the bottom of the stairs I stepped into a wider corridor. A brick channel ran along the center of the passage. In the dark I couldn't make out colors, but long-dried mold stains were the only sign of water.
Fimbulthicket squirmed and complained all the way down. When I felt his teeth on my wrist, I dropped him on the floor before he could clamp down. I tossed him his pack.
He hissed at me, the little jerk.
"You're welcome," I said, taking the high ground.
Kemeili came next, Caladrel and Oparal close behind. Their shadows leaped out in front of them as the boss lit up his ring. "Go to Radovan," he said in his dog-ordering voice.
"Get down here, boss."
"Just a moment," he called down. "I want one more glimpse— How swift—!"
An explosion of dust blotted out the light. The ground jumped up, and bricks rained down on my head. I kept up on my feet until a blast of dirty air blew me down. Arni yelped and barked over the confused voices of the elves. They cried out single words in their own language: "What?" "Here!" "Where?!" Other stuff I couldn't understand.
"Boss!" I scrabbled in what I hoped was the direction of the stairs. The dust blinded me, but I felt a slope of rubble where the stairs had been. Two or three feet up, my hands found a warm body. Kemeili.
"Mmmallright," she mumbled. I swept some rubble off her, and she climbed the rest of the way out.
I pushed her back the way I'd come. "Get down there, and keep moving."
A few more stones tumbled down from above, but the stairway stopped collapsing. I found Oparal by her armor and worked my way up to her face. By the time I slapped her cheek lightly, she was already shaking it off.
"Here," said Caladrel, coughing on the dust. "I've got her."
I pushed past, following the sound of Arni's voice. He'd stopped barking and begun whimpering.
"Boss? Can you hear me?" I crawled up another few feet and felt the fur of Arni's back. It was standing up, thick with fear. I put a hand on his shoulder to calm him, but his jaws whipped around to catch my wrist. His fangs broke my skin before he checked himself and let me go. His whine was half apology, half plea for rescue.
I pulled at a stone until the hound cried out. I scooped the loose dirt with my hands, freeing his hind legs. That was enough. He pulled himself out the rest of the way and crawled forward, where the boss had been. I wanted to pull him back out of the way, but he was so skittish I followed him instead.
The stones shifted above us. A ragged crack of sunlight appeared for a moment. Before I could make out anything through the dust, something moved close to black it out.
Cold spread through my body, but it came from the inside. Warm, animal breath blew down the wrecked stairwell. Beneath the musk of reptilian flesh was a stink like vinegar, only a thousand times stronger. It stung my eyes and swelled my dry tongue.
"Boss?"
Arni tried to growl, but the weak sound tapered off into a whine.
We could hear it breathing, the dragon. From the force of its breath, I imagined a nostril the size of Oparal's shield just above us. When it pawed at the wreckage, its claws made a sound like plows through gravel. It sniffed and dug, sniffed again, dug some more.
The light returned for an instant, reflecting green off the dragon's scales. I saw the boss's hand jutting out from a pile of stones. I grabbed it, felt its warmth. It didn't return my grip.
A voice spoke above us. It sounded like a millstone on gravel. I couldn't understand what it said, but I could tell it was a voice, not just an animal grunt. It sounded surprised.
The heavy breath sucked again, sniffing, scenting. The dragon's earthquake voice repeated the word that I didn't understand.
Then it said a word I did know.
I pulled on the boss's hand. It barely moved. There was too much on top of him.
I bloodied my hands scooping away the rubble. Arni dug beside me. There was no way to do it quietly, so we dug fast. The dragon's nose was only feet away. Even if it couldn't see us, it could definitely smell us.
More light spilled in through the ragged gap above us. My hands were too busy unearthing the boss to draw the wings, but there was a prayer in my heart. Sweet Desna—
Before I could complete the thought, a blast of air blew down through the ruined stairwell. Dirt stopped my mouth and nose, rattling my brain until the only thought left was the word I'd heard the dragon speak:
"Variel."
Chapter Thirteen
Circle of Truth
Varian
Everything was dust. Dust was everything I could see, smell, or taste. Dimly I heard the muted voices of my companions. They pulled me by arm and leg, but instead of dragging me off to die, they were hauling me out of my sudden grave.
Blinking caked eyelids, I saw Fimbulthicket's enormous, childlike eyes gazing down at me with concern. The rest of his face was a mask of dust. His little hands clutched my head. From the tingling sensation that suffused my skull, I knew he had repaired my fractured skull with his Green magic.
"That's all I have left," he said. "Kemeili?"
"Wait," said Caladrel. "We mustn't stay here. Can he walk to the next junction? I heard water."
"I'll take him," said Radovan. I gasped as pain erupted in my hip and thigh. The collap
se had shattered my bones.
My present agony was worth the sight I had glimpsed.
Arnisant licked my hand as Radovan bore me along the passage. "Boss," he murmured. "You've got to stop getting your ass kicked so hard. You're making me look bad."
Trails of dust spilled down from the riven ceiling, glowing golden brown in the light Kemeili conjured on the tip of a dagger. She held it up like a torch and led the way.
I felt the damp in the air before we saw the reflection of the water. We turned twice before entering an unbroken passage similar to the one we first entered, with the singular exception that the trough running down the center of the hall was filled with clear water.
Kemeili set her dagger on the edge of the channel. "Get his clothes off, and help me bathe him. I can't see what's hurt under all that dirt."
"Wait," said Oparal. "I will tend him first. Leave his clothes on."
Radovan set me down with my back against the low wall bordering the water channel. Oparal knelt beside me, her brow, lips, and heart already painted with the blaze of Iomedae. I read the silent prayer on her lips and spoke the final words with her: "Glory to the Inheritor."
Her eyes met mine, but there was nothing but sincerity for her to see there. She removed her gauntlets and smeared the dirt on her mouth with the back of her hand. She grasped my hands and closed her eyes in prayer.
The warmth of the goddess spread through my body. Oparal had no need to touch my injury, only to lay her hands upon me and bestow the blessing of Iomedae. Some claimed the power of a paladin would not heal an unworthy subject, but Oparal and I both knew that was untrue. The choice to heal me was hers.
When she was done, I tried to rise to thank her properly. The pain lanced through me again, this time concentrating on my ribs. Wincing, I gasped, "My thanks."
Kemeili peeled off my coat as Radovan pulled off my boots. "We could all use a bath," he said, pouring a stream of dirt from a boot. The others agreed, as well they might. Together they looked like a collection of clay golems.
"I will bathe alone," said Oparal. She walked away, armor clanking.
"Don't go far," Caladrel cautioned her.
"Turn your back."
He obliged, exchanging a bemused glance with Kemeili. In my experience, even those elves not devoted to the Savored Sting displayed far less body modesty than humans do.
As they lowered me into the cool water, I noticed Radovan's attention drifting in Oparal's direction. "Radovan."
"Oops," he said. "Didn't mean to peek."
"Yes, you did," said Kemeili. As she unlaced my trousers, her hand brushed my thigh as if by accident. I raised a reproachful eyebrow, but she only giggled in that childish tone she reserved to attract Radovan's attention.
"Hey," said Radovan, noticing her flirtation. His indignation might also have been feigned, but I doubted so. "If you two want some privacy, I'll go see if Oparal wants her back scrubbed."
I understood he was bluffing—Oparal would not react kindly to such an offer—but Kemeili did not. "You'll stay right here and rinse Varian's clothes," she said. Her sportive tone vanished, replaced by an undercurrent of menace.
Her lascivious touches gave way to a more businesslike approach as she mended my remaining hurts. For this I was much relieved, because the effects of the cool water would not long prevent a discomfiting reaction should she continue to test my aplomb.
By the time I felt hale and whole once more, I saw that Radovan had rinsed both my garments and his own, laying them out to dry on the channel wall. Fimbulthicket and Caladrel were washing their own clothing a piece at a time, stripping as they stood in the water. Beyond them, at the very edge of the light, I observed through half-lidded eyes as Oparal set aside the last article of her clothing and sank her statuesque figure into the stream.
Radovan was too busy cajoling Arnisant into the water to notice my misdemeanor, but an impish smile dimpled Kemeili's cheeks.
Arnisant rescued me from further embarrassment by leaping into the channel. After the instant of commotion, he stood unmoving, unhappy with the temperature or some other quality of the water. Radovan splashed him, setting the hound bounding back out of the water.
Eddies of dirt curled away as I wiggled my toes. The cool water soothed my aches, which lingered even after the ministrations of our healers. When I saw blood flowing away from the scrapes on Radovan's hands and arms, I regretted allowing them to expend all their efforts on me.
Arnisant shook himself, spraying us all with dog-scented water.
At that, both Radovan and Caladrel laughed. A moment later, Kemeili and Fimbulthicket joined in, less amused than relieved to realize we had survived an encounter that should have slain us.
The released tension caused me to reflect upon my many narrow escapes. I did not like to tally the occasions, but I knew that this one, like all the rest, would lodge forever in my memory library. I preferred to concentrate on the aftermath, in which we basked in the victory that is survival.
"Listen, boss," said Radovan. By his tone I knew the time for jollity had passed. "Did you hear what the dragon said?"
"I heard nothing after the roof came down."
"Variel. It said 'Variel.'"
A hundred possibilities flew through my brain at once. "Are you certain?"
"Positive," said Radovan.
"He's right," said Caladrel. He squeezed the water from his long hair and laid it upon his shoulder. "But she also said 'dragon's blood.' Do you know what that means?"
I realized exactly what that meant, but I had no wish for Caladrel to direct the conversation. "Why do you say 'she'?"
The ranger shrugged, by which gesture I knew he was dissembling. "The voice struck me as more feminine."
"But you called it 'she' even before we descended to the aqueducts."
"That's right," said Fimbulthicket. "You did it twice."
Caladrel's eyes hardened. I could almost read his thoughts upon his face. "You have already uncovered a few of Kyonin's secrets, Count Jeggare." He made himself smile. "I suppose one more will not imperil the realm."
"What are you talking about?" said Radovan. He looked at Kemeili and Fimbulthicket before craning his neck in Oparal's direction. "Do you all know what he's talking about?"
Kemeili shook her head. Oparal said nothing, but she moved closer to listen, keeping her body concealed under the surface of the muddied water.
"If it's something about Variel, I want to know," said Fimbulthicket. "If this dragon said his name, she must expect him to be alive."
"Or perhaps she mistook Varian for his father and was surprised to think he was alive," said Kemeili.
While such speculation was interesting, it detracted from my question. "What do you know of this dragon, Caladrel?"
"The rangers have long known that a great dragon hunts this region," he said. "We know the dragon is a green female, but we had never been able to find her lair. Now we know why."
"The dragon must enjoy the protection of the city's wards. Caladrel, what else you can tell us about this secret elven city?"
"Nothing," he said. "This region of the forest has perplexed my best trackers for centuries. The city's wards have concealed it from us."
"But you had to know that this city once existed. How could there be no record?"
The elves shook their heads. Fimbulthicket lifted his hands and let water drain from his palms.
As the stream carried away the dirt, the light reflecting from the water's surface danced upon the ceiling. Our shadows wavered on the stones above, yet each of us sat naked beneath the water. "Is it not time to share your true purposes in accompanying me in this search?"
"I serve Queen Telandia," said Oparal.
"I just want to find Variel." Fimbulthicket's voice echoed through the aqueduct.
"I came at the behest of my Prince Amarandlon," said Caladrel. "He hopes that returning Variel Morgethai to court will please the queen."
"You mean it will please Prince Amarandlon,"
scoffed Kemeili.
"Variel Morgethai has a more profound influence on the court than any Calistrian. You shouldn't be so proud of being the youngest of the temple inquisitors. You have the title, but you haven't earned it."
"I may be young," said Kemeili, "but I know that you hope Morgethai will take your lord's part in the question of the Witchbole."
"Perhaps he shall," said Caladrel. "As a Chelaxian, Count Jeggare may also support the cause. Is that why you came along, to report him to the queen?"
"Maybe I came to keep an eye on you," she said. In the refracted light, her elven eyes were even more difficult to track, but I sensed they glanced at Oparal. Kemeili eased over to lean on Radovan's arm. "But the truth is that I'm here as the eyes and ears of the temple, and the temple serves the throne. And yes, I volunteered to come. We seldom receive foreign visitors. These two are interesting."
Oparal spoke up. "If you wish it, Count Jeggare, I will call upon the power of Iomedae. Should anyone utter a lie while the eye of the Inheritor is upon us, I will know it."
I watched the faces of the others for a reaction to the paladin's proposition. Kemeili appeared annoyed, while Caladrel stiffened, ready to protest. Fimbulthicket had grown bored again. He leaned back to float on the water, the bulge of his white belly protruding from the surface like the hump of a miniature whale.
"Thank you, Oparal. That will not be necessary." While I do not object to specific divinations, like the cantrip that allows me to perceive magical auras, the use of such spells has always struck me as both tawdry and vulnerable to fraud. The Hellknight signifers, for example, are notorious for reporting only that information which serves their cause. While I had no reason to believe Oparal to be corrupt, she was certainly capable of concealing a secret agenda.
"What is the question of the Witchbole?"
"Queen Telandia hesitates to bring our forces into direct conflict with the Lord of the Blasted Tarn," said Caladrel.
"Some call the demon lord Treerazer because his horde leveled much of the forest during the retreat," said Kemeili. "We drove him back to the Witchbole, a fortress made out of a vast and corrupted tree in the south."