The Dragon Writers Collection

by DragonWritersCollective

  “That simply will not do,” argued Euryale, “Moira? Do you mean the . . . .”

  Ilythiiria lifted her staff into the air. Crisp wind rushed through the cave. “Silence! You will do as I say, or the wind will sweep you back into the Abyss!” Without hesitation, she and the staff faded with a pop into the chilled air, which swirled and then whooshed out of the cave’s entrance.

  Glendoque stood silently staring at the space where Ilythiiria had stood before disappearing. “Moira travelssss differently,” he muttered.

  “What?” asked Euryale.

  “The other Guide, Moira, travelssss through sssstone.”

  Euryale shuddered. “Stop standing there like a dolt. Where is my chamber?”

  “Thissss way, Lady Euryale,” he replied, picking up the torch and setting off in the direction of the fire he’d built. “It issss not the comfort you desssserve, but I can offer you a warm fire and a fur between you and the dirt. Ilythiiria brought a cloak for you. It is warming on a stone by the fire.”

  Euryale glared at Glendoque’s back as she followed him. She hated narrow passages, and the limestone surrounding them looked damp. She frowned, concerned it would crumble before they could get out. “When will Moira arrive?”

  “Ilythiiria did not ssssay, but ssssoon.”

  Euryale followed Glendoque through a tunnel. Observation and discontent made effective distractions from the memory of the terror she’d just experienced. Her eyes now accustomed to the torchlight, she warily watched the Alyan’s tail sway and slither while she cursed Ilythiiria under her breath for leaving her with a stranger.

  Glendoque stopped after entering an even smaller cave, in the center of which burned a low fire. “Thissss issss where we wait for Moira.”

  The cave was empty but for the fire, the cloak, and what she assumed were Glendoque’s belongings. Euryale sighed. “I suppose there is nothing to eat.”

  “I hunted thissss morning,” he said, reaching for a leather sack crumpled near the fire. He reached inside the bag and rummaged blindly, eventually pulling out a carcass. “Have you ever tassssted a delicassssy like thissss one?”

  The dangling cadaver looked like an oversized, furry rodent with bulging, red eyes. “A cave rat? You expect me to eat a rat?”

  Glendoque grinned, and he quivered his tail, setting off a subdued rattle, which provided a steady background rhythm for a melody of soft chimes. “You amusssse me, Lady Euryale.” He lifted the carcass higher and caught the lip of the rodent-like creature, pulling it back to expose a mouth with no teeth. “Not a rat. A ssssnake sssswallower. It issss quite tassssty roassssted.”

  Euryale turned her head and waved dismissively. “Put it away. My appetite is gone.” She huddled in front of the fire, the damp cold of her cell still infiltrating her bones.

  He shrugged and dropped the carcass back into the bag, which he slung over his shoulder. “I will return after I clean it. You may be hungry later.”

  “I may be sleeping later. Do not wake me.”

  Glendoque rattled his tail.

  More than the warmth of the fire made Euryale want to curl up and sleep. The trip itself, if she could call it that, had made her more aware of her body’s density. She’d labored with each step through the tunnel. “You said you had travelled with another guide.”

  “Yessss, with Moira.”

  “I see. Why?” Euryale sat down on the fur and smoothed her gown, pulling the cloak around her shoulders. Its toasty warmth settled over her.

  Glendoque swayed his tail, and the chimes tinkled. “Moira heard I wassss looking for a new home, and sssshe helped me find one in the Cavessss of Firth.”

  “I do not care where your home is. Tell me about Moira and how you travelled with her.”

  “Moira came to the Pit and brought me here. Sssshe moved the wallssss, and we walked out and into thissss cave. After that, sssshe took me to my new home. I assssked to return to ssssay goodbye to thosssse dear to me. Moira brought me back and ssssaid I ssssshould wait here.”

  She processed the information. So, Moira had elemental talents. That fact surprised Euryale, who had thought of Moira as a bit on the thick side, slower than most and by a grand measure slower than the other Priestesses. If we are talking about the same Moira. “You were to wait for Moira. Did Moira say I would be coming with you?”

  “No.”

  “Ilythiiria?”

  “Yessss.”

  “When?”

  “When what?”

  Euryale groaned. “Tedious snakeman. When did Ilythiira tell you I would be coming with you?”

  Glendoque rattled his tail and shrugged. “Earlier today. After ssssunsssset.”

  So, Ilythiiria’s fear hadn’t crippled her, after all. Euryale’s backup plan hadn’t failed altogether, but the reason for its success seemed to be pure luck. She’d counted on Ilythiiria’s loyalty, but what had saved her was her mentor’s fear, a fear Euryale hadn’t had the time to tease out completely. What had Ilythiiria feared so much that she had come out of hiding to arrange and aid in her escape from the Abyss? “Did she say why I was coming with you?”

  Glendoque shrugged. “I did not assssk.”

  Euryale couldn’t imagine not asking. “And you never saw Ilythiiria before today?”

  “No.”

  “Back to Moira. After you travelled with her to these Caves of . . . .” Euryale looked around at the walls and ceiling that seemed to inch closer everytime she looked at them. Ilythiiria had said they were in Alya, a place Euryale had never heard so much as mentioned. She waved and scowled. “Caves of Wherever. What happened then?”

  Glendoque shrugged. “I sssslept. When I woke up, sssshe wassss gone.”

  “Did you feel weary, as if you had gone a great distance?”

  Glendoque nodded. “Yessss.”

  So, it wasn’t just her feeling tired from the unorthodox travel. “And how did you call Moira back?”

  “Back?”

  Euryale sighed. “You said she came back to your new home and brought you here.”

  “Oh yessss. I touched the Guidanccccce and called her.”

  Euryale scrunched up her face. “Guidance?”

  Glendoque pulled open the front of his scaly tunic and looked down at the tattoos on his chest. “Guidanccccce.”

  Euryale smiled. Emerald marks. Arcane symbols? “You touch that mark, and she comes?”

  Glendoque shrugged. “That issss how sssshe told me to call her when sssshe left me in the Cavessss. I have not called her ssssinccccce.”

  “Go on, then. Clean your rat, and bring me something palatable to eat when I wake. Hopefully, you have not ruined my appetite completely.”

  “Assss you wissssh, Lady Euryale.”

  When he reached the tunnel, Glendoque ducked through its opening and disappeared. Euryale fumbled with the fur until she crimped enough of it to form a thick lump on which to lay her head. As she had yearned to do, she relaxed her muscles and let sleep come of its own accord.

  A few hours later, she awoke to the smell of roasted meat. She turned her head to see Glendoque turning a spit over the fire.

  “Rabbit,” said Glendoque, his tail quivering at its base. A low tone undulated.

  The cave shuddered and rumbled.

  Both Euryale and Glendoque jerked around to see the tunnel caving in on itself. Before either could move, a woman dressed in a robe the colour of pines stepped out of the moving stone. Like Ilythiiria, she carried a wooden staff. Unlike Ilythiiria’s, however, this one was topped with a glowing emerald.

  The same Moira. Euryale quickly looked the other way, took a silent breath, and altered her aura. Unless Moira could sense auras, she wouldn’t recognize or remember Euryale.

  “Glendoque” the robed woman said.

  “Moira.”

  Seeing Euryale, she glanced back to Glendoque and said with hesitancy, “I thought you would be alone.”

  Euryale laughed. “My husband goes nowhere without his wife.”

&nb
sp; “He did not travel with you the last time.”

  “I was not his wife the last time. We were secretly joined. Look at us. We are not exactly a conventional couple, now are we?”

  “Is this true, Glendoque?”

  He nodded once.

  “What is your name?” asked Moira.

  Euryale thought of the chimes. “I am called Lyrica.”

  “Very well, then. Let us depart before someone wanders in and finds you. Hold onto her and grasp my arm,” she said to Glendoque. “Do not let go of either of us, no matter what happens.”

  Glendoque extended a hand to Euryale and helped her stand up. He passed her the bag containing the carcass to hold in her other hand. “Come wife.” The same melody of amusement tinkled, and he then took hold of Moira’s hand.

  Rocks in the tunnel moved, rolling and crashing into each other until they reshaped the tunnel. Moira led the way into the dark bowels of the passageway.

  Euryale’s open-eyed stare darted around, untrusting of the movement encircling them. As the tunnel opened slowly before them, rocks behind them began to crash inward, blocking any retreat from what she feared was fast becoming a stone tomb. She squeezed Glendoque’s hand.

  Glendoque tightened his grasp. “We are ssssafe,” he said, reassuring her.

  In no longer than it took for the party to walk twenty paces, the tunnel opened into a large cavern lit dimly by shreds of light creeping in from around a bend in the cavern wall. Euryale smelled fresher, lighter air, and she sensed the cave walls were solid and stable. She breathed in the aura of the grotto, silently grateful to be out of the volatile tunnel and standing surefootedly in an unchanging place.

  Once all three had entered the cavern, Glendoque let go of Moira’s hand, and the Guide turned to the pair.

  “Do not waste this chance to begin anew,” she said to Glendoque.

  “Thank you, Moira. May your Goddesssss guide and protect you.”

  Moira nodded and then looked at Euryale. “Safe paths, Lyria.”

  Euryale caught a glimmer in Moira’s eyes. “Lyrica.”

  “Forgive me. Safe paths, Lady Lyrica,” said Moira.

  Euryale wasn’t buying the woman’s seeming sincerity. What was it she said? Oh yes. “Safe paths,” she replied and then added, “and give my love to Ilythiiria.”

  Turning back toward the tunnel, Moira walked into it, her staff’s gem pulsing. The tunnel closed behind her, leaving Glendoque and Euryale staring at an unmoving wall of grey rock.

  The Alyan’s voice broke the silence left by the stilled stone. “I have been here before. There issss a larger chamber deeper in the cavern. It hassss a waterfall and a pond with water fit for drinking. Perhapssss you would like to bathe?”

  Euryale jerked her hand out of Glendoque’s and looked down at her gown, now soiled with the dirt kicked up by the stone avalanches. Her companion, like her dress, was covered with a fine layer of dust. She hated to imagine how scruffy she looked. “I told you not to touch me. Show me the chamber.”

  Feeling his way through winding tunnels and along the walls of small grottos with streams of light pouring down through holes in their ceilings, Glendoque led Euryale to the cavern he’d told her about. “Pleasssse remember I had not exxxxpected a companion.”

  “I am not your companion.”

  Nobody spoke for the remainder of the trek to the large chamber. When they reached their destination, the Alyan trailed his hand along a wall until he found the torch he’d stuck into a crevice. Crouching, he pulled two small stones and a clump of dried grass from a pouch hanging around his neck under the tunic. Chipping one stone against the other, he created a spark that set the grass to smoldering. He blew on it until it burst into flames, and then he lit the torch and held it up to spread light in the cavern.

  Euryale was astonished at the size of the chamber. It would have dwarfed even the Assembly Hall of the Concealed, which was the largest cavern in Unukalhai. Just as Glendoque had said, a waterfall spilled down one wall, and a small pond pooled at its feet.

  “Welcome to my home, Lady Euryale.” Lifting his tail, he rippled it.

  Euryale teased out at least five distinct tones in the soothing chorus of chimes. “Your tail is musical?”

  Glendoque laughed, goodheartedness forming in the bouncing melody of tones that rang out from his tail in response to the question. “It sssservessss many purpossssessss. I will make a fire to dry your dresssssss.” He reached into the bag with the carcass and pulled out a small fur, which he thrust toward her. “It will keep you warm until your gown driessss. You did not bring the larger fur.”

  Euryale scrunched up her nose at the thought of wearing anything having come in contact with the stiff, dead rat. Looking down at her gown again, she reluctantly admitted she would have to ignore what she knew about the fur’s past if she wanted to get rid of the grittiness already irritating her skin. Even more irritating was the nagging in her brain. Instead of feeling grateful, she felt at odds with her rescue. Ilythiiria had saved her from certain death. But why? To dump her in an isolated, uninhabited cave with her only clothing an impractical and dirty gown and ill-fitting robe, her only companion a convoluted creature of a guard she didn’t know or trust, and her only food a putrefying, unskinned rat? She snatched the fur out of Glendoque’s hands and marched toward the pond, determined to maintain her dignity despite the predicament into which Ilythiiria had plopped her.

  As he’d said he would, Glendoque built the fire close to the pond. “There issss an entrancccce into the foresssst. I will get more firewood,” he said when the fire roared. Lugging the bag over his shoulder, he traipsed out of the cave.

  Euryale had just settled into the cool pond when she heard the pad of boots running. She jumped, startled by the sudden reappearance of her guard. Water splashed onto her face as she submerged herself to the neck. “What do you . . . .”

  “Ssssoldierssss. Chassssing,” he panted.

  Guards of the Concealed? “What do they look like?”

  “A child. Women, men, otherssss.”

  “No, you fool. The soldiers! What do the soldiers look like?”

  “Ssssoldierssss.”

  “Are they dark? Short? Like me? What???!!!!”

  “Human, I think.”

  “Surfacers.” Euryale sighed and relaxed her shoulders. “Then, it is none of our affair. Let them settle their own disputes.”

  Glendoque blinked, his pupils dilating and then narrowing into slits. “But children are among them.”

  “The responsibility for the children falls to the parents. For all you know, they are a ragged lot of escaped criminals.” No sooner had she spoken than the irony of her words slapped her. She persisted, nonetheless. “Stay out of it, Glendoque. It is not in our best interests to be seen or captured by soldiers in a skirmish having nothing to do with us.”

  “Do assss you want, Lady Euryale. I am going to ssssee what issss happening on the other sssside of the cave.”

  Euryale watched Glendoque disappear again, this time in the direction of the tunnel and cave entrance. “You will get yourself killed!” she yelled out as she dragged her wet gown up from the bottom of the pond.

  When a dripping and enraged Euryale caught up with him, Glendoque had positioned himself just at the edge of the cave entrance. His back hugged the wall, and his head perched to listen to the sounds outside. He held a finger up to his lips.

  “Do not shush me, Alyan,” she said, squinting at him.

  He motioned for her to remain inside while he crept out and hunkered behind a large boulder.

  Euryale stepped forward to the vantage point Glendoque had occupied. She could hear what sounded like a battle—yelling, crashes, horses snorting and clomping. She rounded the edge of the cave’s maw and looked toward the nearest sounds. Muffled chaos thudded from behind the low-hanging tree branches and squatty shrubs edging the forest. A twig snapped, and then another.

  Raspy panting and crackling leaves drew closer, and a suppres
sed shriek accompanied the rip of fabric as a bronze-skinned female fought her way out of a thicket and then sprinted toward the outcropping housing the boulder behind which Glendoque had nestled. She skidded to a stop when the Alyan popped his face up over the top of the rock shelter, and then her eyes darted in the direction of the rustling behind her as the thicket parted and a soldier emerged.

  The soldier froze, and he and the woman locked gazes.

  Glendoque reached down from the rocky ledge. “Thissss way. Quickly,” he hissed.

  The soldier broke the locked stare as Glendoque hoisted the woman up and onto the outcropping. He turned and ran back toward the woods against a tide of Surfacers and other beings heading toward the outcropping.

  Euryale looked behind the rolling wave and spotted a handful of soldiers not far behind them. Just as she was about to warn Glendoque, she heard the soldier who had stepped out of the thicket yell, “Turn around! Burn the shanties!”

  The still dripping wet Euryale stepped back as, one-by-one, the tide of beings caught sight of the rocky ledge and scrambled up it and into the mouth of the cave just past her. The last of the group stepped inside. Gathered storm clouds burst without warning as if announcing the escape from threat. Booms of thunder reverberated in the cave. Euryale ducked inside with Glendoque on her heels in time to hear a fading command from the woods, “Back to . . . .”

  Euryale assumed the command had been to retreat. So far, that seemed to be the case, as she’d heard no sounds in the last two hours indicating the soldiers had neared the cave entrance. No additional auras had pushed into the space once she, Glendoque, and the stragglers he’d brought inside had huddled in the chilly chamber between the two tunnels—the one leading in from the outcropping and the other veering into the bowels of the cave. There, she had waited out the storm with strangers eyeing both Glendoque and her. Euryale didn’t have to read their auras to know the reptilian creature frightened them, and her wet gown and plastered hair amused them. She would not crumple and be the first to speak.

  The Alyan finally stood. “I am Glendoque,” he said, his tail dropping to the ground behind him. He motioned to his soaked companion. “And thissss issss Lady Euryale. Which of you issss the leader?”