The Dragon Oracles: Omnibus Edition (The Eastern Kingdom Omnibus Book 1)

by T. J. Garrett

  Fran laughed. “I’ll let you tell her that,” he said over his shoulder as he disappeared down the smaller, right-hand tunnel.

  Gialyn sat on the damp floor with his back against the cold rock. It was pitch-black; he couldn’t see the others at all. “It must be nearly dawn,” he said absently. It didn’t really matter what time it was, not in the tunnels.

  “I doubt it; a few more hours yet,” Olg said. “I know it feels like we’ve been here all night, but I doubt it’s much past midnight.”

  “It feels like we’ve been here a full day, never mind a night. How much further, do you think?”

  Gialyn could almost hear Olg thinking, the poacher ummed and ahhed for a while before answering. “We’ve done no more than two miles an hour. If the path is true, we should be an hour or two from Taris. That’s if the old man was right. He said eleven miles, didn’t he?”

  Gialyn nodded, then realised Olg wouldn’t be able to see. “Yes, eleven miles, but he didn’t say whether it was eleven miles of tunnels; it could be twenty, what with all the twisting and turning.” Gialyn heard Olg grunt.

  “In that case, it could be another four or five hours. Then another hour to the river, maybe. I don’t know exactly where it is.”

  “We need to go west,” Bre’ach told him, “beyond the Bren’alor pass. It’s quicker than the eastern path.”

  He sounded certain.

  “How do you know so much?” Olg asked.

  Bre’ach did not answer.

  They sat in the dark for another twenty minutes. Nobody spoke. Gialyn thought he could hear one of them snoring. How could they sleep? He was becoming more agitated by the minute. He could feel the bile rise in his stomach, and his eyes began to ache from squinting down the dark tunnel. Finally, he saw a light approaching.

  Fran was out of breath and nearly frantic. “She hasn’t gone that way! She must have missed the turning.”

  “How could she? What do you mean she isn’t there?” Gialyn stood. He was about ready to grab the lamp from Fran and run down the tunnel himself. He felt Fran’s hand on his shoulder.

  “A hundred paces down, the tunnel opens up into a wide, flat path. I ran a good mile and more. I’m telling you, plain and true, she did not go that way.”

  Gialyn put his hand on his head and growled. “No! That’s stupid… Now what do we do?” He looked down at Bre’ach. “We can’t all go chasing after her.”

  “You and Fran take the left tunnel,” Olg said. “And be quick about it; you know what Tamson said about going the ‘wrong way.’ Well… go on, don’t stand there like a fool; she already has a mile on you, at least. No, leave your pack here; just take water.”

  Gialyn nodded. He didn’t have a clue why he was repacking his things. He couldn’t think straight; an image of Elspeth running into a horde of Kel’madden filled his mind. Then there was the witch, of course. Gods alone knew what she might do to her. His mouth was dry and he felt sick suddenly. Letting out a grunt, he pulled himself together; if he couldn’t control his thoughts, what use was he?

  Fran waved him on. The little man was already ten paces down the other tunnel, tapping his foot and tutting. At least he knew what he was doing.

  “I’m coming, too, Fran,” Gialyn said. He nearly tripped over Olg in his rush to catch up. The old Salrian told him to calm down, and “not to worry.” How the bloody hell could he not worry? He tripped and stumbled in his haste to catch up, and then cursed himself for being so clumsy.

  “If you want to stay, I’m sure she’ll understand,” Fran said in a kindly voice.

  The comment angered Gialyn. “No! I’m coming with you. Don’t worry about me, I’ll keep up.” Gialyn saw Fran smile through the dim candle light. He wondered for a moment if Fran’s comment was a challenge; he half-expected the little man to go running off ahead. He didn’t, but he kept up a good pace, nevertheless.

  * * *

  Elspeth opened her eyes and felt for the bump on her head. The way it stung, she was sure there must be something – a cut or a bruise. She looked at her fingers – nothing, no blood.

  She was in a tent. Shifting around for a better look, she realised her feet had been bound, then noticed the ropes around her wrists. How had she not seen that?

  More importantly, how did she get here? She remembered walking through the tunnel. There was a light up ahead. She had felt happy, sure that the light must have been coming from the tunnel exit. And then…

  Did somebody hit her? There had been a sound: boots scuffing across the dirt. Someone had said, “Grab her.” Oh, yes, that’s right; a big man hit me.

  After dragging her into their camp – the camp was in a large cavern, still inside the tunnels – the big man had thrown her on the floor of the tent and left her. She remembered being angry; the man wasn’t listening. He had thrown her down in the corner – not on the carpet that covered the rest of the floor, but on the hard dirt – and told her to stay put. He had made it clear what would happen if she didn’t.

  For a while, she lay there, trying to listen to what was going on outside, and all the while the bruise on her head was hurting more and more. I must have fallen asleep. How long have I been here? Where are the others? Gods I hope they haven’t captured them, too.

  A dog of some kind lay at the edge of the carpet and stared at her. At least she thought it was a dog – a dog with a badger’s head and enormous ears. Maybe not. The strange animal moved closer and snuggled up against her back. Elspeth felt comforted, for some reason. The “dog” spread himself out and lay its head on her shoulder. Its breath smelled of meat, and something like… mint. Strange, she thought.

  She peered over the dog’s back and saw a guard’s armour shining in the lamplight; she couldn’t see his face, though. Nevertheless, she was sure he was watching. The big man had given him orders to keep a close eye on her. Elspeth didn’t think he was the kind of man to have his orders ignored. What had the guard called him? General Tucan … Turacan. Gods, what does it matter what his name is?

  Elspeth wondered if the big man meant what he had said – and what a “Lungworm” was. She could imagine, but then stopped herself. Whatever it was, it didn’t sound like anything good. “You will answer her questions!” the big man had growled at her. “You will answer her questions, or it will be the lungworms for you, girl.” If he was trying to frighten her, there really wasn’t any need; she was already scared. Why did I have to go running off? What was I going to do – go to Bailryn by myself? I’ll have some words to say to that Tamson… if I ever see him again. “Right is right”? No it bloody isn’t!

  Elspeth saw someone coming. Or rather, she saw the lamp approaching. The dog pricked up its ears, but didn’t move until a woman entered the tent. The big man walked in behind her. The animal hopped up and bounded towards the woman, tail wagging and body snaking as if it didn’t know which end it wanted her to scratch first. Despite herself, Elspeth couldn’t help but smile.

  The woman ignored the dog and carried on walking towards her. She put the lantern in Elspeth’s face.

  Elspeth squinted as she tried to look beyond the light. She was surprised at what she saw. A beautiful young woman with dark eyes and pearly white skin. She was expecting someone older – not that the woman was her age, but she definitely wasn’t much past thirty, if that. Stranger still were the woman’s clothes. She wore a blue silk dress with a darker-blue shawl draped over her shoulders. On her feet, she wore fine satin slippers, and a necklace of fire-red sapphires hung around her neck. She looked ready for a ball. But then Elspeth might have expected as much, judging by the luxurious tent. And they called her “a witch”? She didn’t look like any witch Elspeth had ever heard of.

  The dog nuzzled its way under the woman’s arm and lay down next to Elspeth.

  “It would appear that Trapper likes you. That is a good sign,” the woman said. Her voice was melodious. Nothing about her was as expected.

  Elspeth watched as the woman stood. After placing the lamp on a small
table, the “witch” sat behind a wide desk. Dozens of books and scrolls had been neatly stacked on it.

  She peered at Elspeth over a mound of papers. “I can assure you, young lady, no one else likes you very much. In fact, General Turasan doesn’t like you at all.”

  That’s it: Turasan. Elspeth already knew he didn’t like her; he was the one doing the dragging and the hitting. She watched as the big man circle the tent and sit in a chair opposite the desk. The witch was right; he didn’t look happy. His eyes fixed on Elspeth as he sat back in the chair. He sat perfectly still; it didn’t look as though he was breathing.

  “Do you know who I am?” the woman asked.

  Elspeth could only just see the woman’s face above all the books and papers. “You’re that… you’re that Kel’madden woman.” She was going to say “witch,” but thought better of it.

  The woman laughed. “Is that who they think I am? I am no Kel’madden, girl. I am from Eiras. My name is Vila’slae.”

  Vila’slae put her elbows on the table and rested her chin on interlocking fingers. She seemed to be waiting for a response.

  Indeed, Elspeth was certain of it. She was also sure that the wrong word could get her killed. “Sorry, I don’t know that name.”

  “Oh come now, girl. And you carrying a scroll from the Cren’dair Woodsmen. Surely they have told you about me.”

  Damn that scroll! Why did I keep that thing? Iit’s not like I’m going home any time soon. “I was just asked to deliver it, Ma’am. I don’t know what it contains. I don’t know anything.”

  “Oh well, that is a shame. Would you like me to read it to you? There are two of them, but they are both the same, more or less. One addressed to Emissary Tanner, your father, and the other to the magistrate in Beugeddy, of all places. Why the Cren would write to that backwoods is beyond my reckoning, but…” Vila held both scrolls up, one in each hand; she looked at Elspeth as if waiting for her to choose.

  Elspeth thought that saying “no thank you” would not be the right answer. She nodded at the witch—what else could she do?

  Elspeth watched as Vila’slae unravelled one of the scrolls. The witch cleared her throat, and with a voice that reminded Elspeth of her old schoolteacher, began to read, “On this day, the fourteenth of… pft.” The woman made an impatient gesture, waving her hand over the scroll. “Second thoughts, I won’t read it all; those Cren are such blowhards for etiquette.” Elspeth heard the general snigger. “Dear Mr. Tanner… your daughter, Elspeth, has been of great assistance… I hope this finds you well… the Kel’madden witch is back… listen to what your daughter has to say… bla bla… she has our confidence.”

  Vila placed the scroll neatly on the desktop, then peered over the pile of books. “Girl, by the look of your face, I’m guessing you haven’t read this.” The witch smiled at her, a deep, satisfied smile that said she already knew everything about everyone. “It seems that far from being an ignorant messenger, you are in fact a fountain of knowledge, Elspeth. Can I call you, Elspeth?”

  Instead of answering, Elspeth looked at the general. She wondered how long it might be before he had his turn at interrogating her; the witch already knew everything, why was she bothering with the pointless questions? The general stared back at her. The big man didn’t look much like the other Kel’madden. They had fat heads and flat faces, while the general had the face of an eastern nobleman: all points and angles. His heavy lidded eyes sunk into his skull, but that didn’t lessen his gaze. He frightened her more than the witch did.

  Vila’slae coughed. She was tapping the desk impatiently. “Girl, are you listening to me?”

  Her tone was even, calm, but the general sat forward and straightened his cape, and the dog scurried under the table. Elspeth struggled to twist herself around so she could see the witch. She winced as her ribs rubbed against a rock.

  Vila slapped the table. “For the… Put the girl on a chair, General,” she said, snapping her fingers and pointed to one of the chairs set at the side of the tent. “I can’t see her down there.”

  The general moved a chair to the middle of the carpet and calmly walked around Elspeth. He could have just stepped over her, but he made a point of staring. Elspeth’s skin pinched under her arms as he wrenched her to her feet. His thick, rough hands gripped the back of her neck as he pushed her forward, and then rudely forced her down onto the chair.

  Elspeth rolled her head, easing the ache in her neck, then squared up, hitching herself to the centre of the large, cushioned chair. Gazing around the tent, she was shocked at the size of the furniture. There was no way they came through the same tunnels that she had. Behind the witch’s desk was a long, high table with yet more books and scrolls. The high table split the tent in two. Beyond it was a bed with a dresser on one side and a polished chest on the other. A strange light emanated from the dresser. It shifted from pale yellow, to red, to blue, and back to yellow again. Elspeth squinted and realised that it wasn’t a lamp; it was a stone of some kind. The colours were dancing along its surfaces like tiny rivers. It sat alone on top of a silver and gold plinth, cast in the shape of three dragons. The dragons held the stone with their spread wings. It was beautiful, but … frightening, somehow.

  “That’s better,” Vila said. “Now, I asked you a question, can I call you ‘Elspeth’?”

  “You can if you want to,” Elspeth said, as politely as she could, “but it’s not my name.”

  Vila’slae laughed. A light amused laugh that Elspeth thought sounded quite sinister. “Oh, my dear, you really are a one, aren’t you? A nobody from Ealdihain; stuck up to her neck in things she doesn’t understand, and still, you have the nerve to lie.” Vila smiled. She slowly shook her head as she stared. “I’d like to meet you in a few years, my girl, uh, sorry, Elspeth. Now, it is Elspeth, is it not? Unless you are suggesting there are more of you in the tunnels. Perhaps I should ask the general to send out a search party.”

  Elspeth tried to hide a gulp. She raised her chin and put on her best show. “I was with someone, but I left them. I did not like the company. I don’t know where they are now.”

  “Yes,” Vila said, as though knowing what Elspeth meant, “poachers are a shady lot, aren’t they. But what about the boy? The general’s men saw him spying on my camp, seems he wants to rescue you, how quaint. He’s handsome enough, so I hear. A bit skinny, but he should grow out of that.”

  “He’s not ski—” Elspeth cursed under her breath. Bloody fool, what are you doing? Do you want to get them killed? “He’s no threat, Ma’am; he knows less than I do, and he doesn’t even carry a sword.”

  “And what of the poachers, Elspeth? What of my eight missing men? Not that I care much; if they got themselves killed by children they are of no use to me.”

  “He didn’t kill anyone.” Again, can’t you just shut up! Fool.

  “So they are dead. Who did it, Elspeth? Was it the old man? Yes, I see you have met him. What did he do, Elspeth?”

  “I-I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

  “Oh come now, I have scouts. Eight men are missing—or rather, dead—the old man is out of his cave, and now you turn up. Coincidence? I think not.”

  Vila stared, tapping her lip with a finger. After a long moment, she stood and poured herself a drink from the pitcher on the side table. “Never mind him; I’ll have to deal with the old man at some point, but not today. I have sent some men to search for your friends, though. I would hate the poor boy to get lost. Oh don’t worry; he has nothing to fear from us; just an innocent, caught in the wrong place and time.” Vila slowly raised her gaze towards Elspeth. “You, on the other hand, you did kill two of the general’s men. I’m afraid he is none-too-pleased with you.”

  Elspeth gulped again. She could vaguely remember shooting off a few arrows, but she was running; they must have been lucky shots. Kill two soldiers, Gods. No! No, I didn’t; none of my arrows hit anything but rock. “I didn’t think I… I mean, I’m sure I didn’t hit anyone.” She whispe
red the last.

  “And yet I have two dead men,” the general said. Elspeth looked over her shoulder at him. “Either it was you, or your young friend. I doubt the poachers would have killed a Kel’madden. Why would they? For that matter, why are they here? No, your young friend killed them, then ran back to the rest of your group. Who else is with them? Is the old man still there?”

  Elspeth said nothing. The general was right; Gialyn must have killed the two Troopers. But he wasn’t going to hear that from her. No matter what he did.

  The big man leaned down to his side and picked up a cloth-covered jar. Elspeth couldn’t remember seeing it before, but she had a nasty feeling that she knew what was in it. He stood and took two steps forward. Holding the jar in front of her face, he slowly removed the cloth covering.

  A foul creature, like a small snake, bit frantically at the glass. It made a clinking sound as its teeth chewed at the jar. It was brown, eyeless, and one end was all mouth, with a ring of tiny, sharp teeth. Eyeless or not, it didn’t much like the light; it stopped as soon as the general put the cloth back over the jar.

  “Take her to the quartermaster’s tent,” Vila told the general. “Leave that with her… as a reminder.”

  The general put the jar under his arm and pulled Elspeth to her feet with his free hand.

  “I’m going to want some answers,” Vila said, as the general pulled Elspeth towards the door. “Fortunately for you, I have had a long day and am too tired to give you my full attention. You have two hours to decide. Tell me everything you know and I’ll be lenient with you. If not, you’ll be the general’s problem. I suggest you talk to me, child; the general is not as… Well, I’m sure you can guess what he’ll do with you.”

  Elspeth was in no doubt what the general would do with her, but what did the witch want to know? That the Cren were coming. It was already obvious that half of Aleras’moya knew she was there. Maybe she wants to know about the dragons Arfael has gone to visit. Yes; she must think I know something about them. She’s going to be disappointed, and the general… Ugh, that worm thing: surely they wouldn’t. What are you thinking, of course they will. Gods, I hope it’s not the dragons. She felt a stab of shame; would she tell them about the dragons if she knew? She hoped she wouldn’t, she hoped she would have the strength to keep silent. But that worm! She felt sick to her stomach.