The afternoon sun made the air thick with humidity. The chattering, chirping hum of the insects around them filled the air. Occasionally, they found themselves in a cloud of pesky gnats or tiny little biting flies. A larger scarier looking thing, half dragonfly, half scorpion, hovered and buzzed about them menacingly, until Cole came out and zapped it with one of his sizzling crimson bolts.
“I can climb it,” Gerard’s voice held only the slightest trace of bravado when he spoke.
He seemed, to Shaella, to be speaking more to himself than to her. She only nodded and smiled sweetly at him.
“Once, it was wider than it is tall. You can see what I mean, if you look at it from the sides.” Shaella indicated the Dragon’s Tooth Spire looming ahead of them in the distance. “The entire river used to flow down the channel we’re in now. It was far deeper then. Somehow, it split around the fire mountain. Over the centuries, it wore at the sides and deposited all of this.” Her arm swept around broadly, indicating the whole of the marshes around them. “The marsh is bigger than Westland.” She turned to face him, and her look grew serious, as if what she were about to say was of great importance. “Right now, we are in the biggest, most powerful land in the entire realm. What’s more, is that not a single one of those self-righteous and mighty Kings even knows it.”
“But it’s empty,” said Gerard. “There’s no one out here.”
“Oh, but there is.” She kissed him on the lips quickly. “You just don’t see them, but you will.”
“When?”
“Tomorrow night, if the Water-Mage’s strength holds out,” she answered.
He pulled back from her quickly, swatted at a buzzing sound near his ear, and then ducked, reflexively. Whatever it was, it had already absconded. Grinning at the silliness of how he must look, he recovered.
“So, do you have a plan yet? Have you decided what I’m to do once I climb to the top of that thing?”
“Yes, there is a plan,” she answered coolly.
She didn’t want to think about it. She didn’t want to consider what she might have to do while he was up there inside the dragon’s lair. She wasn’t so sure now that she could do it.
“We’ll talk about it later.” She kissed him again, deeply this time, trying to drive the worry from her mind and that subject from his.
That night, they made love in the moonlight on top of the pilot-house. They tried to be quiet, but it was impossible. The act ended up being humorous and awkward. They spent most of the night giggling like children.
When Gerard woke, he was alone. He sat up and looked around. The sun was only slightly above the horizon, and only one or two white fluffy clouds were in this part of the sky. Far behind them, the entire northern horizon was a dark gray line.
The loud “CHOOK!..CHOOK!..CHOOK!” of some creature grabbed Gerard’s attention. A large, hairy mannish thing sat in a tree, voicing its disapproval of their presence in its domain. Somewhere, not far beyond the beast, a whole tree shook violently, sending a squawking flock of angry birds up into the air.
For the most part, the marsh had risen up out of the water around them. Very few open spaces could be seen now. The jungle that surrounded them was dense and steamy. The trees along the edges of the waterway leaned out over it. Their limbs hung down, the sagging branches heavy with beards of blue colored moss and long stringy leaves.
As he climbed down from the pilot-house, and its higher vantage point, Gerard began to feel enclosed. It was like moving down a roofless corridor, or a narrow, forested wagon trail.
The site of something so personally familiar to him, that it was startling, caught his eye. A large, full grown hawkling was perched solemnly on the back rail of the boat. It was as out of place as anything he could imagine. It cocked its head towards him and blinked. It was big and healthy, but to Gerard, it seemed that something, some glint of existence, was missing. It didn’t seem to be proud or even aware. A flash of sunlight reflected off of something at the bird’s neck and Gerard moved closer. It was a jeweled leather band, a collar. He went toward the hawkling, half expecting it to launch away, but it didn’t. It sat there passively, as he fumbled at the band around its neck. He tried to unclasp it, but found that it was held in place, by a solid silver ring. Perplexed, he started to look for a dagger to cut the thing off.
“Don’t release it,” Shaella barked angrily from the pilot-house. “How can I reply if you cut it loose?”
“How can someone keep such a creature bound like that?” He wasn’t sure how he knew that the collar was like a shackle around the bird’s spirit. Maybe it was the ring’s magic telling him; maybe he just felt it. Either way, he knew.
“How could you of all people ask such a stupid question?” she snapped.
“What do you mean?”
“You, and your people, are the very ones who plucked this creature from its nest before it was even hatched!”
She made a sharp clucking sound, and the hawkling flew over to her, and perched on the edge of the pilot-house roof. She tied a finger-sized scroll case to another band that was clasped around the bird’s ankle. When she was done, she stood on tiptoe, and fiddled with the collar while murmuring a few words that Gerard couldn’t quite make out. As soon as she dropped back to her heels, the hawkling leapt into flight and headed off on a swift, northwesterly course.
“What did you think happened to the eggs your people stole from the nest and sold?” she asked. Her eyes trailed after the bird.
Gerard winced. He had known, and hadn’t ever really thought about it very much. Were his people no better than that? Were they just villainous egg thieves who stole something more precious than gold? The idea was unsettling. How could his people respect and revere a creature so much, yet make a profit by selling its young into slavery? Maybe it was true. Maybe the Skyler Clan was nothing more than a band of bird-soul stealers.
The slight bit of guilt and unease he’d been feeling about leaving his people the way he had suddenly evaporated. Who were they to judge him for leaving? What reason could they possibly have to disapprove of what he was going to do for Shaella? His people wouldn’t shun him for stealing a dragon’s egg for her. They would be proud of him. What greater harvest could he make? The Elders even used a dragon’s skull for their fire pit. The memory of the size of that skull sent a chill through him. A hint of the dangerous nature of what he was going to do became real to him, and his mind went off on another track.
It was one thing to wave off an angry hawkling mother while you plucked one of her eggs away. Shooing off a dragon probably wasn’t an option. He wasn’t sure if dragons really breathed fire like they did in Berda’s tales, but he didn’t think it would really matter. The jaws on the skull in the Elders’ council chamber back home were large enough to pluck him from the fang-spire and swallow him whole. There were claws, and blasts of turbulent air from the powerful wings to think of as well. If the dragon really did breathe fire, and it caught him, then he was done for anyway. He could almost imagine being roasted like a stag’s loin while he clung helplessly to a sheer face of rock.
“Where did you go?” Shaella asked him. He had been staring after Pael’s hawkling with a look of deep concern on his face, but the bird had long since disappeared from sight.
“Your plan had better be a good one,” he said, a little more sharply than he intended to. He had meant for his voice to convey his concern without showing his fear. The result had sounded angry.
Her brows narrowed, and she stepped away from him while holding his gaze. She searched his eyes deeply. The quality of his manner that had caused her to fall so hard for him wasn’t there to be seen at the moment. She hoped that it hadn’t flown away with the hawkling. Maybe it would make it easier if she…NO! She stopped herself from thinking that way. She wouldn’t. She couldn’t. She huffed out her frustration. She had fallen in love with him, and already she was fighting with the possible regret. The task he was here for was dangerous, and she couldn’t let it affect her judgmen
t.
The worry he was feeling was showing plainly on his face. She felt it too.
“Tonight, we feast with the marsh men,” she said, with a forced smile. “After the formalities, Cole and I will share our ideas with you. Our plan, if you will. If we have to make a few changes, if you can add anything, or some part of the plan needs to be adjusted to help you succeed, then we will work it out then.”
His eyes softened while she was speaking. That glint of whatever it was that she adored had returned to them. She found herself relieved that it was still there. She was irritated though, that the presence of some silly twinkle meant so much to her. Before she could think, he stole a quick kiss. The smile that resulted came across her face of its own accord.
The boat came aground just as the sun was starting down below the horizon. Before Gerard hopped down off of the pilot-house, he took a long, last look at the distant fang-shaped spire. He was sure he wouldn’t be able to see it once he was under the jungle’s thick canopy. As he hurried into the gloomy swelter to catch up with Shaella, he found he was right.
It had been uncomfortably humid out in the open, but once he was in the jungle, he found the heat stifling. The air was so thick with moisture, that he felt like he was swimming through it. The trail led away from the boat. Gerard thanked the goddess for it. The journey through the tangle of greenery would’ve been impossibly slow without the path.
Cole led them. He was followed by Greyber. The Water-Mage came next, and Shaella was behind him, prodding him along with her sword. The soft, yellow glow of its blade helped with the dimness created by the density of the vegetation.
Even if the sun had been directly overhead, Gerard thought that it would’ve been dark in this claustrophobic place.
Flick had stayed with the boat. The two deck hands that hadn’t gone with the cargo barge were with him. The further Gerard moved away from the boat, the more he found himself looking back over his shoulder into the dark nothingness.
Some sort of thorny vine spiked into his arm sharply. He tried to pull away, but it was embedded in his flesh. He pulled again, with gritted teeth, and finally broke free of it, but not before dragging several feet of the ropey plant down the trail behind him. The rustling of bushes, and the sound of heavy footfalls, as some large, grunting thing bolted away from them, hurried his pace. When he caught up to Shaella, and the comforting glow of her sword, he decided that this wasn’t the sort of place where one should lag behind.
The clamor of a hammering bird’s beak, and the chirping sizzle of a million different insects, wafted up through the thick air to his ears. To his right, for a fleeting instant, he thought he saw two tiny specks of yellow light, spaced a hand’s breadth apart, bobbing slowly along beside them at head height. By the time his mind registered that what he was seeing was two eyes reflecting the light from Shaella’s sword back at him, they were gone.
Off in the distance, the ear-piercing shriek of something huge caused a moment of total silence. The whole jungle, even the insects, stopped to listen. Then slowly, hesitantly, the cacophony of noise resumed, as if the creatures hadn’t been disturbed at all.
The ground seemed to grow less spongy as they continued, but it never stopped being slimy. The ever present moisture dripping from the leaves and vines above wouldn’t allow it. Gerard figured that they were slowly moving up onto higher ground. His new boots were probably a ruin. He wondered absently what Hyden would think of all the places he had seen so far on this journey.
He glanced down at his arm, and saw that it was swollen and bleeding. So much moisture was clinging to his skin, that he hadn’t noticed it. The wound began to pulse with pain then, and he wondered if he would be feeling the growing throb if he hadn’t looked at it. For a moment, he panicked. He had to climb soon. He couldn’t afford to have a swollen arm and be in this kind of pain. Go away! he screamed inside his head. Before the thought had completed itself, he felt the ring on his finger heating. The usual rush he felt in his blood was dampened by the pain in his arm, but only for a moment. The magic quickly scoured away all traces of the injury, and he soon felt its luscious tingle coursing through him. A thought came to him as he rode on the rush of unnatural power. Light! He commanded in his mind. To his great surprise, an apple sized ball of bright white light appeared in his palm.
He heard Shaella gasp, as she turned to see what had happened. It was a gasp of surprise, and maybe wonder. The sound of the Water-Mage’s gasp though, was clearly one of shock and terror. Gerard reluctantly peeled his eyes away from the glowing light in his hand, and saw what had frightened the man. In the trees, all around the group, were glittering pairs of reflection. Hundreds of black orbs, set in slithery, slick reptilian faces, were staring at the light. The lizard-like creatures were standing upright, and armed to the teeth with human weapons. A bright, pink tongue flickered from a split in a snouted turtle shaped head, then another. The parts of the creatures’ bodies that weren’t covered with ringed leather armor or scraps of chain mail, were scaled and as green as the jungle around them. Skeeks, Gerard decided correctly, right out of one of Berda’s stories.
Everyone seemed to be captivated, as well as irritated, by the light. More than one of the lizard men had moved to shield its eyes from the brightness. More flickering forked tongues appeared, accompanied by a severe hissing sound, as their heads began to dart around nervously.
Gerard was sure they were about to be attacked, but then one of them spoke to Cole in a strange, clicking sibilant language. Gerard recognized it as the language the two bald-headed wizards used when they spoke to Shaella and each other. Gerard noticed something else. It was the blackness of the eyes, maybe, or the elongated torso and head of the lizard men – he wasn’t sure. He tried to pinpoint the similarities, but couldn’t. They were subtle and many. He was sure though, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that both Cole and Flick were related to these unsettling creatures somehow. As if to confirm this thought, Cole responded to the beast in a casual, yet commanding tone.
Gerard waited for the lizard man’s response, but the next words were spoken to him.
“Extinguish the light!” Cole commanded harshly in the common tongue.
“Do it, Gerard,” Shaella added softly. “The light will draw things to us that we don’t want to run into out here.”
Gerard tried several silent commands to make the light go away, but none of them seemed to work. Off, Dim, Dark, Darkness. It grew very quiet. The air was crackling with tension, as everything alive inside the reach of the magical glow, held its breath. The silence became deafening. No matter what command Gerard gave, the light would not extinguish. Finally, under the intense gaze of all those strange pairs of eyes, he did the only other thing he could think to do. Reluctantly, he pulled the ring off of his finger. A dozen hisses and sighs of relief emitted from the suddenly darkened jungle around them. Gerard made a short prayer to the goddess that the light would stay gone when he slipped the ring back on. He let out his own sigh of relief when it did.
What seemed like days, but was really only a few hours later, they came to a clearing in the trees. Gerard gasped in shock when he saw a bowl-shaped depression, lit like a field full of burning stars by hundreds upon hundreds of campfires. Illuminated in the wavering orange glow around them, were thousands of Skeeks and other strange swamp creatures. A few big four-legged lizards could be seen carrying small groups of their two-legged kin around a perimeter of bigger bonfires. A dactyl bird, like they had seen soaring out over the marshes, was sharpening its long beak on a chunk of the black porous rock that was scattered about the clearing. It looked to Gerard as if all of the creatures there were, in one way or another, preparing for battle.
“An army of Skeeks?” he asked Shaella quietly.
One of the lizard men escorting them hissed out sharply.
“This is only one of several armies. And don’t call them Skeeks.”
She sheathed her sword and took his hand. “They prefer to be called Zardmen or ‘The Zar
d’. Come now, let’s feast, and then we can work out a plan to steal the dragon’s egg that pleases all of us.”
Gerard couldn’t help but wonder what they would be eating, and just who “all of us” really was.
Chapter 25
After being out in the cool, crisp mountain air for the past few days, the Elders’ council chambers seemed stiflingly hot. Every single pore on Hyden’s body was running freely with perspiration. His condition wasn’t caused solely by the temperature though. He was nervous, and more than a little bit afraid. He wanted to leave, but that wasn’t a possibility. The Elders would deny his exit, and probably lock him in a goat burrow if he so much as complained.
Talon was miserable too. He had fluttered over to the tip of one of the dragon skull horns that curved up out of the dancing blue flames, and perched there, but only for a heartbeat or two. Apparently, it was just as hot up there. The hawkling finally flapped his way down to the floor, and found a place between Hyden’s boots.
The stool Hyden was sitting on was directly in front of the dragon skull and facing it. The wicked blaze burning in the skull’s brain cavity made the dragon’s eye sockets seem alive, and made the semi-circle of Elders gathered around it look like a bunch of hungry ghouls.
Halden, the Eldest, sat directly across the sapphire blaze opposite Hyden. The dragon skull’s curved horns framed a disturbing picture, with Hyden’s grandfather at its center. The old man was chanting now, and raising his arms in a series of lunatic gestures. At precise intervals in the Eldest’s manic song, the rest of the Elders spoke the powerful words of invocation in unison. They shouted, in short bursts, phrases that seemed to make the walls of the cavernous burrow they were in hum with reverberation. Slowly, it became repetitive and hypnotic, and Hyden found himself slightly swaying to the flowing rhythm they had created. How long this went on, he couldn’t say. He had become lost in the moment.
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