“Then we are agreed,” Tor said, eventually. “We leave at week’s end, regardless of the outcome.”
The four dragons nodded their agreement.
Altor stood. “Well that doesn’t give me long to sort through the books and scrolls; they need to be stored somewhere safe. If you’ll excuse me.”
With that, the other three left, too.
Tor stayed behind. He gazed down into the water, at the huge blue rock at the bottom of the pool. “And you will have to stay,” he whispered. For a moment, and not for the first time, he thought he heard the rock answer him; but, as usual, he couldn’t understand what it had said. It’s not the Spirit Stone, you fool; why do you keep talking to it?
* * *
The route to the Tunnels of Aldregair was easier than Ealian had expected. They hadn’t brought the horses, though. Which was a shame; Ealian had become used to the ease of riding again, and trudging through the valley hurt his feet. He had argued for taking the horses at least as far as the pass, but Brea had insisted on walking.
The last remnants of the storm clouds had evaporated by the time they reached the midway point. Blooms of maiden’s tear and ousblud sprung up from nowhere and now covered the meadow. The once dry grass was now green and shone with life. Even the trees looked better for the downpour. There was wildlife, Ealian noticed. Rabbits, a pair of foxes, squirrels; even a badger was running around as if the rains had heralded some sort of animals’ party.
Brea, the dragon girl, had pointed out “interesting” sights as she led their small troupe through the valley. If he had the heart to argue, Ealian would have disagreed over how interesting they were. Brea was upset, Ealian knew, at leaving her “little dragon.” He had seen tears in her eyes when they left the dragons’ den. She wasn’t crying now, though…
Brea pointed at a rock, saying the dragons had first introduced themselves to the villagers there; then she pointed out a windmill, which had stood in the same spot for three hundred years, apparently. Ealian joined the other two, listening politely to her guided tour of Bren’alor. If nothing else, her chatter took his mind off his aching feet.
Olam, as usual, was first in the line. Eagerly taking in every word of Brea’s prattle and asking questions. Did he ever stop questioning folk?
At least he was bothering her; another day of his insistent badgering and Ealian would have to punch the man.
“Who is Aleria?” Ealian asked, after hearing Brea mention the name to Olam.
Brea turned. “She was my great-great-great-grandmother, the first of our line chosen as a Soul Guardian. She is the reason Tor and the other dragons decided to come here.”
Olam looked impressed. Doubtless, he was thinking of another question to ask her, but Ealian got in first. “And how did the dragons know she was here?”
“They didn’t,” Brea answered. “Aleria was living in Bailryn at the time. She helped the dragons escape from the Battle of Blai’nuin. She was very brave. The dragons followed her back to our valley.”
So, the whole family was born to serve the dragons? Ealian thought.
And what’s wrong with that? Alacin asked in his mind.
You again? Can’t you give me some peace? I let you have a whole day and a half to yourself.
I would have said nothing, but you are so wrong about that girl. She serves nobody; she is the Oracle.
Oracle… Guardian… Who cares? She’s just a girl.
Alacin laughed inside Ealian’s head. And I suppose a dragon is just a big lizard. You know nothing, Ealian. You really should let me teach you.
I don’t want your teachings, Cren. I told you before; I’m in charge. If I want to know something, I’ll ask.
As you wish.
Alacin didn’t sound happy, but Ealian decided he didn’t care. He would have to find a way to stop the Cren intruding. There had to be a way; Alacin could stop him from interrupting his thoughts.
Ealian was so busy thinking, he almost ran into Arfael’s back.
The big Kel’mai – Cinnè’arth, Dragonman, whatever he was – was the only one carrying a pack. Everything had been crammed into it, not just Arfael and Olam’s things. Hanging from the pack were four brass oil lamps. Inside, Ealian knew there were two large clay jars full of lamp oil, along with the food Brea had prepared and some spare cloths. They all carried their own weapons, though. Even Ealian had a sword. But what they thought he would do with it was anybody’s guess – Elspeth was the soldier. Still, he had already agreed to let Alacin take over, once they reached the Tunnels so it would be the Cren’s problem. Or rather…
Ealian suddenly felt an urge to ask Alacin if he was good with a sword.
Come mid-afternoon, Brea called a halt; they had reached the pass.
“We’ll rest here for a while and eat,” she said.
They sat by a stream. Ealian watched as Brea filled her water bottle. She was charming; a slender yet curvy figure, but not too tall; long straw-coloured hair with loose curls that bounced on her shoulders; a fine-looking face and a friendly smile. If it weren’t for the dragon thing, she would be as near a perfect girl as Ealian had ever known.
He decided he needed his waterskin filling up – you could never have too much water. He knelt beside Brea and dipped the container in the fast-running stream. Now he was there, next to her, he couldn’t think of a single interesting thing to say. She smells nice. Maybe I could say that?
“That’s an interesting smell you have,” he told her.
Brea’s eyebrows rose. “I’m sorry, what do you mean, ‘smell’? I had a bath this morning.”
“No, no, that’s not… I mean… sorry, I meant you smell nice.”
Brea laughed. “Oh, for a minute I thought… It is not perfume; just vanilla and raising spice. I was helping mother with the baking this morning. It is nice, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is,” Ealian said, pleased to have turned his mistake around. “You could sell it as a perfume; it’s better than some of the expensive concoctions my mother buys from Beugeddy. They smell like grass and oil.”
“Expensive perfume!” Brea’s eyes lit up “Are you rich?”
“Me? No. My father is. Well… compared to most in Albergeddy. He’s the emissary.”
“If you can spend good money to smell like grass, then you’re certainly richer than anyone around here.”
“I suppose so,” Ealian chuckled. “Can I help you with that?” he said, pointing at Brea’s over-sized waterskin.
“Thank you, but I’m fine. It’s not that heavy, really.”
“Oh, that’s good then,” Ealian said. He felt his cheeks redden.
Brea gave him a smile as she got to her feet. She walked back to the others.
Ealian followed.
He felt good; Brea was not only beautiful but kind and polite, too. What a perfect girl. The more he thought on it, the less the dragon thing mattered. How had he not noticed her before? Too busy battling with Alacin, he supposed. He suddenly felt guilty for even thinking she was a servant to the dragons. It was a strange sensation; he rarely felt guilty about anything. Maybe that was Alacin’s fault, too.
The lush valley gave way to the craggy rocks of the eastern pass. It was even harder to find than the western pass had been. Ealian didn’t know it was there until he was already in it. It was narrow – only a foot or two wider than Arfael’s backpack. In some places, the big man had to scoot sideways. The sky above looked like a thin slit of light. Looking up, Ealian hoped the rocks weren’t loose; from that height, it would only take one small rock landing on his head to ruin his good mood, and probably knock him senseless.
They spent an hour in the pass that felt more like three. Eventually, it widened out and, after a few minutes, Ealian saw the Eastern Taris Grassland.
Tor had given instruction on where to go. They were simple enough: head east to the edge of Bren’alor Valley; go through the pass and back out into Taris; Follow the path, keeping the rock face to your left at all times, and go into the thi
rd cave – the one with a large boulder in front that looks like a frog’s head.
Tor had also told them more about the Shard they had to destroy; how the Barrow Stone it came from was one of four Godstones, one each for the earthen powers and another for the spirit world – whatever that was. All Ealian cared about was getting the job done and going home. But Alacin had kept him up all night talking about the bloody things; how they had been thought lost; how they are used to control beasts of the land, sea, and air. Ealian asked him what the Spirit Stone controlled. For once, Alacin had no answer; at least none that he would share.
Ealian also discovered that dragons were the only animal whose soul was bound to all four powers. It made sense, in a way; they could run like a horse and fly like an eagle; maybe they could swim, too. Again, the spirit part puzzled him. Although, thinking about it, if any animal would have a connection to the Spirit Realm, it would be dragons.
Two more hours had passed before they reached the entrance to the cave. The boulder outside did indeed look a bit like a frog. Ealian laughed and pointed to it. Nobody else thought it was funny. The cave entrance was much larger than he had expected; even Tor would have had little difficulty walking through.
“So that’s it?” Ealian asked nobody in particular. “Doesn’t look all that special to me.”
“It’s what’s inside that matters,” Brea said.
“Indeed, child,” Olam added. “I suggest we only talk in whispers, and only when absolutely necessary.”
Everyone nodded.
* * *
“A wise precaution,” Alacin told him. “I suggest we leave the pack outside, too, and only take water and oil lamps with us.”
“Ealian?” Olam asked.
“No, Olam, it is I, Alacin.”
Olam laughed softly and slowly shook his head. “You should warn us when you are going to do that, Alacin.”
“Why? I hear everything Ealian hears.”
Olam shrugged. “It would just be nice to know which one of you I am talking to.”
“We are Tien, Olam. You talk to one; you talk to both. But never mind that. Shall we go?”
Olam seemed reluctant; maybe he liked being the “old wise man” of the group. Alacin didn’t know why, he thought Olam was a good man, and wise, too; he had no reason to feel unworthy. “Will you lead the way, Olam?” Alacin asked.
Olam perked up at that. “Yes, of course.”
Arfael dropped the pack behind the frog boulder and they each picked up a water skin and one of the lanterns. Once ready, they followed Olam into the Tunnels of Aldregair.
CHAPTER 20
Ghosts in the Dark
It must be as big as the Great Hall in Bailryn, Brea thought, as she stood staring up at the cave ceiling – not that she’d ever been to Bailryn Palace, but she had seen pictures. Tor’s den could have fit inside the entrance twice over, and still not touched the sides. As big as it was, though, enormous spiky rocks, like giant dragons’ teeth, rose up from the ground and reached down from the ceiling, taking up much of the space. The ones hanging from the ceiling looked as if the stone had melted and dripped onto those reaching up from below. It was a truly strange place, nothing like her cave. With the “teeth” all around her, Brea couldn’t help feeling crowded, as she followed Olam deeper into the tunnel.
“Why would anyone think to travel through a place like this?” Brea mumbled to herself.
“I imagine the entrance is quite different from the deeper tunnels,” Olam answered, though not directly. He, too, was staring at the formations on the floor and ceiling.
“They are Calsean Spikes, Brea,” Alacin said. “Rainwater seeps through the rocks and carries tiny bits of rock along with it. Eventually, they make these things.” He patted a particularly large “spike.” “There shouldn’t be any in the Tunnels. If there are, they won’t be very big; not like these, at any rate. The deeper we go, the thicker the rock; less water would have seeped through.”
“Good,” Brea said. “They’re… unnerving, like huge teeth in a gaping mouth.”
Alacin laughed. He muttered something inaudible.
“What was that?” Brea asked.
“Oh, nothing, Brea; just talking to myself.” Alacin made a study of the ceiling.
As Olam led them deeper into the cave, Brea noticed a dark shape on the floor. “Olam, Stop!” she shouted.
Olam stopped mid-stride, stood still, and then slowly turned his head. “What is it, child?”
Brea raised her lamp up high and pointed down to his right. There was a large chasm, barely inches from Olam’s toes. One more step and Olam would have fallen in.
The Eurmacian sucked in a long breath and then laughed. “Oh, thank you, child. I was too engrossed in the walls to notice the floor. Thank you.”
“That doesn’t look all that old, to me.” Alacin said. “My guess would be an earthquake. Tor would have warned us if there were dangers like that this close to the entrance.”
“What do we do?” Brea asked. “Do we keep going? If the ground itself has moved, can we trust our directions?”
“Don’t worry, all will be well. We’ll just have to keep our eyes open.” Alacin gave Olam a look that said he was referring to him.
“How can you be sure?” Brea asked. “Apparently, you’ve been dead a thousand years. How can you know what to expect?”
Brea still didn’t fully understand how the Cren’raic had managed to reawaken inside of Ealian’s mind. That’s not to say she didn’t trust him, but what could he possibly know about the present? Certainly not enough for them to take his advice seriously. For that matter, she didn’t even know why he had even come with them; all she needed was the Cinnè’arth. What did Olam and Alacin think they would do against Vila’slae? They were just two more people needlessly putting themselves in danger.
“I don’t know what to expect,” Alacin said. “I only know what I can see.” He pointed at the spikes hanging down from the ceiling. “If it were a bad earthquake, they would all be broken. That hole was probably there all the time, and a small earthquake just made it that much bigger.”
Brea looked up at the jagged teeth. True, they were quite thin in places; they would have fallen if the earth had shaken them hard. But that still left the question of the chasm. Were there any more surprises?
As though reading her thoughts, Olam said. “We should walk in a line, cut down the chance of walking into danger, at least until we are through this area.” He peered over the edge of the chasm as he spoke. Raising his head slowly, he smiled at Brea. “I owe you a debt, young lady.”
Brea smiled back. “If it’s all the same, Olam, I’d just as soon you didn’t have to pay me back, at least not until we are out of here.”
Arfael moved past her, his lantern held high. “We should move on,” the big man said. “Those bats will be stirring soon; it’s almost dark out.”
“Bats!” Brea squealed. She looked up at the ceiling and saw the carpet of black bodies pulsing in near unison. “How did I not see them?”
“Because you were too busy looking where you were going.” Olam chuckled. “Do not worry about the bats; I am more worried about what is on the floor.”
Brea looked down. Great mounds of bat droppings piled against the jagged rocks. Within them, centipedes, beetles, and strange white-limbed spiders crawled. Brea shuddered. “Thank the gods my cave isn’t like this.”
Ten minutes later, Brea and the others turned into what looked like a mineshaft – albeit a very large one; not even Arfael could have reached the ceiling. The tunnel made an almost perfect circle through the rock. The walls rippled like dough on baking day. The surface shone, reflecting the light of their lamps like polished steel. Brea had never seen anything like it. She turned to Alacin. Even he was staring with a bemused expression on his face. “What, no answers, Alacin?”
“I don’t know everything, Brea, but I can usually make a good guess. This, however…”
Brea smiled to herself. She fel
t strangely comforted; knowing that Alacin was as lost for words as she was.
So bright was the reflection that they extinguished all but one of the oil lamps. They followed the tunnel for what seemed like hours, but Brea knew it was no more than one. The monotony of the tunnel left her feeling queasy. Nothing changed; for all the difference it would make, they might as well have been going around in circles. Occasionally, she spotted a dead rat or bat on the floor, which broke the tedium a little and stopped her head spinning. She wondered if closing her eyes would stop her feeling sick.
It was a relief when, finally, the strange tunnel ended. The circular tube – it must be man-made, Brea thought; tunnels just don’t look like that – opened out into a large cavern. Olam and Arfael re-lit their lamps and held them up. There were four exits in the cavern. Two of them were high up, set back on what looked like a rock shelf. At the very top, the ceiling was cracked and opened out onto the night sky. It was a thin slit, but Brea could see stars through the hole. In the centre of the cavern, there was a pool of what Brea hoped would be clean water.
“This must be the place,” Alacin said. Olam nodded.
“‘Second left’, Tor said. Does that include the tunnel we were just in?” Olam asked.
“That’s a good question.” Alacin looked around the cavern, eventually fixing his eye on the two tunnels above. “I think if he meant for us to climb, he would have said so. I’d say it’s that one.” He pointed at the first tunnel on the left.
“Well, I suppose we will know soon enough,” Olam said.
“I think maybe we should rest first,” Alacin said. “Tor thought it would take us three or four hours to reach the Karan Valley. We’ve been in the tunnels for two, so we are half way. If we rest for an hour, we will emerge in the valley a few hours before dawn – perfect time for an ambush.”
The Dragon Oracles: Omnibus Edition (The Eastern Kingdom Omnibus Book 1) Page 68