by A. Evermore
Rasia shook her head in wonder. ‘Last night you looked so exhausted I barely recognised you. The neighbours came knocking, said there was an Atalanphian man looking for me. I had no idea who it was.’
‘It’s been several years since we last saw each other, and I feel I’ve lost half my body weight since the Dread Dragons destroyed my ship,’ Bokaard said.
‘We’ll have a roast tonight, as big as I can cook,’ Rasia said.
‘That would be amazing,’ Bokaard said, already looking forward to it. ‘All I can say is that I gave up hope so many times, and still I survived, against all odds. I’m not a wizard or a visionary, and I cannot tell if Marakon lives or not. But I know he is one lucky bastard, and if it were me I would not give up hope.’
Rasia smiled, blinked back the tears again. ‘You know it’s funny. He’s a soldier, as was I before our boys came. I always knew he would likely die in battle, and had prepared myself for it over the years. But a ship wreck… not knowing whether he lives or not, that is harder. I cannot mourn him or let him go. I can only live in hope, like you say.’ She stood up and tied her thick copper curls back into a ponytail. Her face was pale and drawn, but she was still handsome and held herself proudly. Her strong broad shoulders spoke of her soldier’s training.
‘Stay with us, as long as you want,’ she said. ‘As you can see we have plenty of room. It will do the boys good to have a man around the house’
‘Marakon’s done well for himself,’ Bokaard agreed, taking in their big kitchen and large garden. He’d had his own room last night, and a big comfy bed to sleep in. The best rest he’d had in five years. They even had a complicated system of running water. From what he could tell it was certainly one of the bigger houses in town.
‘I’d rather we lived together in a hovel than in this big house and me alone,’ Rasia said.
‘Of course,’ Bokaard said. ‘I’ll stay until I’m fit, if that’s good with you. After then I must return to the Feylint Halanoi in Port Nordanstin and report what happened.’
‘If it weren’t for the boys, I’d come with you. I miss being on the field. I miss being an archer,’ Rasia mused watching her boys still chasing each other in the garden.
‘After everything that’s happened I think I’d rather be here,’ Bokaard said.
Rasia laughed. ‘Maybe you’re right.’
Bokaard lay awake in his big bed. His belly was still full after two heaped plates of the delicious roast dinner Rasia had cooked earlier. He was tired, but couldn’t sleep at this time - most Atalanphians would be up and about right now. They lived and slept twice in a day. Sleeping from noon until dusk and then again for a couple of hours in the night. But he was still exhausted after his ordeal.
The muffled sound of Rasia crying in the next room kept him worrying. She would be all right, in time. He couldn’t comfort her anymore than he had. For all the odds against him, he could still imagine Marakon walking through that front door. With a defeated sigh he swung his stiff and sore legs out of bed, and pulled on his clothes, Marakon’s clothes that Rasia had given him. They would have been tight had he not lost so much weight but they fit fine now. Slender elves. Bokaard grinned as he did up the shirt buttons. He pulled on his boots and coat in the kitchen, and tiptoed outside into the night.
He immediately shivered. This damn country is so cold this far north. He pulled up his collar and breathed in the fresh salty air. The big house behind him was on a hill overlooking the town of Wenderon and Wenderon Bay. The town hugged the near perfect semi-circle of the bay, and most of the lights were off apart from some taverns. The house was dark save for the candle alight in Rasia’s window. He sighed, feeling sorry for her all alone here. He was glad he’d left no one at home. When you spent so long at sea it was hard to find a partner anyway.
He turned away from the house and walked up the path that led to a low point on the cliff. He sat down on a cold slab of stone and closed his eyes, listening to the sound of the surf. It pleased him, that sound, it meant he was on land again. After all that had happened he didn’t ever want to get in another ship. But it was unlikely the Halanoi would let him be anything else other than a captain. The night was overcast, but Doon appeared from behind a cloud.
Bokaard blinked up at the bright moon. ‘You’re late tonight,’ he whispered. ‘Thank you for hearing my prayers.’ He felt silly talking to the moon, but if the prayers he’d spoken so fervently when he was dying alone on the ocean had been heard, then he was eternally grateful. He felt peace come over him then. A content kind of knowing he had not really felt before.
‘If you’re listening, then maybe you can help my friend Marakon if he is still out there. No matter how I think of it, I cannot imagine him dead.’ He looked across the ocean. ‘I survived against all odds, so too can he.’
Chapter 13
The Witch And The Seer
IT was the smell that drove Edarna on. Not a nice smell, a dead rotting putrid smell that wafted through the trees like a dense fog. It got her all excited.
‘Urgh, what is this,’ Naksu gagged, holding the hem of her blue robe over her mouth.
‘Well, this is what you can expect whenever you walk anywhere - dead things,’ Edarna scoffed.
‘Whatever has died must have been huge. This stench has been around here for most of the day, and I think it’s getting stronger,’ Naksu said.
Over the next hour, as they followed the thin trail through the forest, the smell did indeed reach retching proportions. Even Edarna had to cover her face with her shawl. As the smell ripened exponentially they began to pass broken and mangled trees. Huge pines and thick oaks were snapped in two like a giant had stomped on them.
‘Look, this happened recently. The leaves on the broken bits are still green and the exposed bark is fresh,’ Edarna pointed out.
They carried on through patches of destruction. Here and there black scorch marks seared the earth and trunks. The charred smell of wood smoke was a welcome dampener on the horrible rotting dead smell. Whatever it was, it was going to be useful to any witch, Edarna thought and grinned.
‘There’s a clearing up ahead.’ Naksu pointed to where the sunlight was bright beyond the trees. Edarna hastened towards it.
‘Wait,’ Naksu said. ‘We should be cautious. Whatever did this may still be here.’
‘Whatever did this is dead or gone,’ Edarna corrected. ‘I’ve seen Dread Dragon destruction on Celene, and it was just like this. The scorch marks, the broken trees - all the same. Dragons did this, and if they were still here you would have seen them hours ago.’
Naksu swallowed audibly. Edarna wondered if the woman had ever seen dragons before. Maybe she’d never seen the dark hand of war. Perhaps she’s spent her life cosseted away on Myrn. Edarna tutted to herself. How can you learn about the world if you never see it? They sidled towards the clearing. Edarna tried her best to tiptoe over twigs.
When they emerged into the sunlight Naksu immediately turned to vomit. Edarna was struck dumb, a mix of horror and sheer excitement at what she saw. She moved towards it.
‘A dead Dread Dragon,’ she said, then gagged at the smell. She tightened her shawl about her face. The corpse was in a rapid state of decay, collapsing in on itself so it looked like a leathery bag of flesh filled with putrefying mush. Nothing had dared try to eat it. Edarna knew no living thing would touch the corpse of an immortal. She analysed the beast. Its scales were so strong and resilient that, whilst the gooey insides rotted away, the skin would take the longer.
‘Do you know how many years it took me to get just one dragon scale? Now look at this, there are thousands just lying right there in front of me,’ she said in wonder.
‘Don’t you dare touch it,’ Naksu shouted between vomits.
Edarna was captivated by the dragon. She walked around the bulk and found its horrific head complete with the terrible injury that killed it.
‘Its throat has been ripped out by something just as big. Probably another dragon,’ E
darna shouted her report. She stood there trembling. The hideous sunken eyes would surely open any minute, and this immortal dead thing would reanimate. Edarna breathed deep and slow.
‘Dragon fear, even when it’s dead. How can we humans ever kill even one of these monsters?’
The thing was so huge and so ugly she began to lose faith that Baelthrom and his horde would ever be defeated. But then here it was dead, and something had killed it. Something was missing. Where was its rider? She whirled around, expecting to see a Dromoorai running at her swinging its claymore, but there was nothing, only the still forest and a warm late summer afternoon.
Edarna relaxed and turned back to the dragon. The beast’s eyes were sunken in, and already its skeleton was visible under its flesh. Its blood had long since gushed out over the ground and dried, so that it lay on a huge black patch of earth. The grass beneath it was very dead. Disgusting things, the Maphraxies. Their bodies, having died long ago, rotted quickly. Where they died nothing grew, they poisoned the earth. But what didn’t decay so quickly, Edarna now learned, were the dragon scales. Mr Dubbins tentatively sniffed a black patch of earth, and then turned away with a hiss.
‘Not so good eh, Mr Dubbins? Their scales must be tough though… Resilient to fire, hard as iron, and yet flexible enough for flight. Dragons really are quite something.’
She needed a good stock of dragon scales. The spells and potions she could create with them stretched beyond her imagination. Just five scales would be enough for a lifetime of complex spells, and here there were millions of them - ranging from the tiny scales at the neck to the massive scales on its flank. They glistened metallic greeny-black, like oil in a peat bog. She forgot all about the horrific sight of the decaying stinking Dread Dragon, and looked critically at the new project before her.
‘Two scales of each, from the smallest to the biggest, and only the best undamaged ones,’ she murmured to herself. ‘Some from the neck, torso, stomach, back and tail. Just ten scales is more than a lifetimes supply, Mr Dubbins.’ The cat looked at her once, and left. She picked up a stick.
‘Now then, hmm. What else can we use…’ She poked the head and jumped back. The head did not even budge. It was still dead, good. Carefully she wedged her stick between its massive lips. She had to heave all her weight against the stick in order to shove the top lip up. Viscous black drool splattered out onto the ground and a gust of stench exploded from the beast’s mouth. Edarna heaved and turned green, almost losing her stick in the goo. Almost. Her intrigue was strong enough to drown out the smell of rotting stomach contents.
‘Teeth, yes. Dragon fangs. Invaluable. But how to get them loose. Hmm. A little explosion goes a long way. My oh my, I could take a week on it. Where on earth do I begin? We could be rich, Mr Dubbins. I could sell those scales for pure gold. I could… I could…’ she stopped, suddenly stumped. What the hell could she spend gold on? She couldn’t even think of anything. She let the lips slop back and put her hands on her hips, analysing the huge bulk. ‘It doesn’t matter, Mr Dubbins, we’ll be rich and that’s it.’ She had an idea, a thought that cut through her dreams of wealth. It made her stop and think.
‘I found it,’ a strained voice came from over the other side of the Dread Dragon. Edarna tried to ignore it so she could focus on the idea. Fire resistant clothing, oven gloves, shields, even armour. It would be the first of its kind ever to be seen. Edarna chuckled and clapped her hands
‘It’s here, come and look,’ Naksu called. The idea wavered then was gone. Edarna sighed. She’d better go see if the seer was all right. She’s probably never seen a dead thing, not even a rat.
Naksu was bent cautiously over something black and part-hidden by long grasses. Edarna stepped on a twig, making the seer jump backwards in fright.
‘A Dromoorai eh? I wondered where he’d be.’ Edarna nodded knowingly as she looked at the huge body on the ground. Everything that had been inside the armour was gone, and the ground beneath it was black.
‘We’ve seen these, in our sacred pools,’ Naksu shuddered. ‘I hope I never see one alive.’
‘Well, if you really want to save the planet, as you seers say you are trying to do, then you undoubtedly will meet one. Best get used to what they look like now.’ Edarna offered her words of wisdom.
Naksu ignored the witch and continued examining the remains. ‘Now the question is, where is its amulet?’
‘What amulet?’ Edarna said, peering closer, hoping she hadn’t missed a trick.
‘They all wear Shadow Stones. You know, those blood stones mined from the bowels of the Maphrax Mountains.’
‘Oh those amulets,’ Edarna chuckled. ‘Well, it probably disintegrated like the rest of it when it was killed. And besides, an amulet’s not that important.’
‘It can’t have disintegrated, not when every other piece of metal still remains. And something which connects all who wear them to the mind of Baelthrom is not to be taken lightly,’ Naksu frowned.
‘No, I suppose not,’ Edarna conceded. She didn’t know the amulet connected the thing directly to him. ‘Does it really connect right back?’ she asked shrilly.
‘Yes. Whenever Baelthrom wishes he can see through any amulet, maybe all amulets at once. This is how he is able to move his Maphraxies so quickly, so precisely, and with devastating results,’ Naksu said.
‘Hmm, so you do know or thing or two then, back on Myrn,’ Edarna said, nodding her head in a random direction meant to indicate Myrn. Naksu ignored her again.
‘Somebody has taken the amulet, but who and why?’ She stood up and looked into the distance.
‘Well, whatever killed it most probably,’ Edarna shrugged. ‘And whatever killed it was pretty powerful, it ripped its throat clean out.’
Naksu grimaced. ‘Without the body I cannot tell how this one was killed, but look at the fresh scrapes of metal on its helmet and armour.’ She pointed out the long gashes on the metal that only another metal object could create. ‘Suggests it was killed by a sword or similar.’ Naksu stood deep in thought, while Edarna poked around the Dromoorai.
‘Nope, nothing of use here really. And I’m not lugging a dirty black claymore around,’ Edarna said.
‘When you spend weeks travelling in a forest, it all looks the same,’ Naksu said. ‘But I was hoping to come across the path I walked recently. There should be a karalanth settlement near here, I’m sure of it. I had not recognised the place because of the destruction, but it could be where I helped to heal a young man. Oh of course,’ Naksu breathed in sharply, a look of wonder on her face. ‘Come on, it’s around here somewhere.’ The seer grabbed the reins of her mule and ran off.
‘What’s ‘round ‘ere?’ Edarna said. ‘Wait, I need to get some scales.’
But Naksu didn’t wait and she disappeared into the trees, leading her mule behind her with Mr Dubbins in quick pursuit.
‘Great,’ Edarna huffed, and ran after the woman. ‘I’m coming back you know. No witch in her right mind would miss a dragon scale collecting opportunity.’
Edarna found Naksu in a second clearing before another big patch of charred earth, but this time there was lots of ash and charred wood.
‘Something big has been burnt,’ Edarna said. Naksu looked around.
‘There,’ she said triumphantly, and pointed to a well-worn path leading into the trees. Edarna followed the seer along it until they came to a wide open space. It looked deliberately made, either side of the path were big round patches of bare earth. There was a third patch of blackened ground, and she toed the ashes thoughtfully.
‘Burned until nothing remained. Looks like a cremation if you’d ask me,’ she sniffed.
‘This is it, this is where the karalanths lived, a group of them,’ Naksu said. ‘Clearly they were attacked and left. But why would they have been attacked? Can Bael…’ she stopped short, as if not wanting to speak the name aloud, ‘can he have known?’
‘Known what?’ Edarna said. ‘And stop running off like that, it’s no
good on an old woman’s knees.’
Naksu looked at her and seemed like she wanted to say something. Edarna raised an eyebrow, hopefully it would be interesting.
‘There was a sick human male here with the karalanths. He had a terrible mortal wound made by Keteth. I helped to heal him and what I learned about him shocked me. He had an aura, very distinctive, an aura of a Dragon Lord.’
‘Oh, ‘im.’ Edarna sighed. Did seers only get old news? ‘Yeah of course its ‘im. The last Dragon Lord and all that,’ she wafted her hand in front of her face dismissively, then stopped and looked worried. ‘She would be with him. That’s why they came. They’re hunting her.’
‘She who?’ Naksu frowned, now confused.
‘She her,’ Edarna said. ‘Issa, the Raven Queen one. That Dragon Lord is her bit of stuff, I’m sure of it. Don’t see too many Dragon Lords kicking around these days. I scryed for her and saw her riding this huge golden dragon.’
Naksu’s pale eyes went wide. ‘Then he survived, praise Feygriene. I cannot be sure how long ago this happened, but the karalanths have obviously left. Less than a week ago for sure. If I can find some pure water, I can use the Presight to see when they left, maybe even where they went.’
‘Oh really?’ Edarna was intrigued. The Presight was the same as the Sight, but it was the ability to see specifically into the past. ‘I don’t suppose you can show me how to see into the past?’
Naksu shook her head. Edarna’s shoulders slumped. ‘Few seers have the gift, and it’s really hard to train. The past is the observer’s interpretation of the events everyone at that time is experiencing. It is very personal and subjective, and takes years to learn. I’ll do it now and do it quickly before this stench kills me.’