Sworn to Vengeance

by Terah Edun

  Determined to appear unfazed at least, Ciardis put on a forceful tone as she said, “I'll ask you one more time. Where are we, ambassador?”

  Raisa stopped circling around Ciardis like a cat that had all the time in the world. One that had run down its prey and was preparing to dine at its leisure. Now she took a few steps to move off from Ciardis's side to face the Weathervane head-on with a swish of her fancy robes as she dropped her searching hand.

  The ambassador smiled. “Where we always were, sarin. I think it's time we go back to the game.”

  Ciardis snarled, “It's only you that plays.”

  Raisa raised one elegant eyebrow. “Oh, we all play, Weathervane; it's just that some of us don't yet realize we are pawns in more than one game of empires.”

  Ciardis frowned and said, “What do you mean?”

  But that was all she had time to ask before she felt the heat dissipate as her body shifted from one realm into another.

  As she disappeared and the world disappeared with her, Ciardis heard Raisa whisper, “It means you’re ready. You have to be.”

  Seconds later it was as if she had never been transported at all. She felt herself emerge into the awareness of the present with a pop. Everything came back into focus. The cliff that they were standing on. The people who surrounded her.

  She swallowed harshly as she looked around. The expressions of those she could see spoke volumes. They said “where in the hell have you been” with raised eyebrows, agape mouths, and crossed arms.

  Ciardis opened her mouth and prepared to voice an explanation of where she had gone and…where she had been. The trouble was, she didn't know quite where she had been or for how long.

  Raising an arm to her head and grimacing, she asked, “How long?”

  Sebastian spoke in a tight voice that indicated they would have more words later. “It's not been an hour.”

  No questions were asked. No words were said, but Ciardis got the deep feeling that the entire group was quite displeased at her disappearing and reappearing trick.

  “If you two don't mind,” Terris said from where she sat cross-legged on the ground, “I'd like to move on, then. Unless, Ciardis, something pertinent happened during your time…?”

  Terris paused, as if she couldn't quite find the word to describe what she had seen.

  “Away,” volunteered Christian.

  “Asleep,” said Thanar with a sneer.

  “Adrift,” ventured Sebastian.

  “Enough!” snapped Rachael. “The girl was gone magically if not physically. And clearly not by her hand.”

  “Says who?” questioned one of the older soldiers.

  Rachael rounded on the voice. “Says the shaman.”

  That was enough to shut up any objections that may or may not have been forthcoming about her right to say anything else in regards to the situation.

  Ciardis said slowly, “Has anyone seen a missing dragon?”

  5

  The whole group could have heard a pin drop as they abruptly shut up and looked around.

  Terris groaned. “This is getting more difficult by the hour.”

  Thanar lifted his shoulders and wings in a languid shrug. “Not necessarily. Unless you were planning to flame-broil over two thousand brigands, she is not useful for this venture. Dragons aren't exactly known for their subtle natures.”

  Sebastian spoke up: “For once, I agree with the bat-winged idiot.”

  Ciardis looked around and saw everyone else was virtually in the same position as when she had “left.”

  Perhaps left is the wrong word, but no matter, the Weathervane mused.

  “Then let's get on with it,” the Weathervane said as she cracked her knuckles and looked at the leader of the group, “What's the plan, oh wise one?”

  “Yes, do tell us,” said a whisper in the newly fallen night.

  Ciardis didn't jump. She just balled up a fist and snapped to the woman who now stood behind her as close as a baby duckling following its mother goose, “Step back before there's another opening in your head, and it won't be one you were born with. I'm done playing your games, dragon.”

  A surprised cough echoed across from both of them, as Ciardis felt the dragon's gaze go up and down her back like a malevolent serpent ready to strike.

  “Someone didn't enjoy their journey,” said the dragon finally with a chuckle as she walked to Christian's side without once looking Ciardis Weathervane in the eye.

  “And I think someone else enjoyed it quite too much,” the koreschie said with a wary eye on his new companion.

  Raisa smiled and looked up at Christian. “Speculation is for the weak.”

  The koreschie narrowed his eyes at the dragon, then looked over at Ciardis with a raised eyebrow.

  She slowly shook her head at his unspoken question and deliberately looked away from the dragon's presence.

  Some time had passed. She wasn’t quite sure how much, but it felt like an entire day had shifted in her mind as she had probed memories and visions and dreams like an adventurer on a quest. Unwillingly pulled into the turmoil of a dragon's mind.

  What she did know was that the dragon ambassador was more and yet less than she seemed.

  And that she had a plan that had absolutely nothing to do with the emperor's tasks or the gods below.

  A plan that frightened even its instigator.

  Determined to focus on one thing at a time, Ciardis cleared her mind and kept her gaze away. If she saw one more smug and superior smile on the dragon's face, she had the feeling that even protocol wouldn't hold her back.

  They were partially in this untenable situation because of the dragon's impatience, after all.

  Frustrated, Ciardis let her gaze stray. She thought she saw Thanar staring at her. This time with a raised eyebrow. There might have even been concern on his face.

  But she didn't have an answer for him, or anyone really, if they asked her what was wrong.

  He wouldn't think she was crazy. He might even believe the memories and the visions she had experienced were real.

  The trouble was…what did that mean for Algardis? For her?

  It was one puzzle that she, and they, didn't have time to solve.

  And the ambassador seemed in no rush to push her on it. Thankfully.

  That was about all Ciardis was thankful for.

  Shaking her head tersely to indicate to Thanar that it was nothing, Ciardis hurriedly broke eye contact again and moved on.

  This time to the newest member of their little pilgrimage.

  She focused on the shaman. Trying to read her reactions. The woman was a native to this region. If anyone, aside from a dragon who was being more cryptic than helpful and a daemoni prince who wasn't speaking to her, would know what the Muareg was doing, it would be her.

  Not that Ciardis trusted the shaman. But she acknowledged that Rachael had grown up in these lands, knew the abilities of most of its people, and heard the legends of what its kith could do. Just as she had learned about the Cold Ones as a child, Ciardis speculated that this woman had learned about the Muareg. Or at the least the myth of the creatures.

  If fear lined her face, Ciardis would know the reason why.

  If hope creased her brow, then she would also know the reason why…but at least it would be with markedly less worry in her own heart.

  Ciardis needed to know how Rachael felt at this moment. Even if she disliked her and she had her reasons to, the shaman was the foremost expert on the being in front of them all. Especially since Raisa had clammed up like a mussel since night had fallen. At least the light had one good use so far. It finally made the nuances of everyone's facial expressions visible in the night once more. Unfortunately for Ciardis, the shaman who stood to Thanar's left and across the circle from Ciardis had an impenetrable gaze. It was like watching water flowing down a glass pane from the inside; she couldn't touch her thoughts or emotions. Just a steady reflection of contemplation.

  Ciardis grimaced and had the u
ncharitable thought that if everyone in the group continued to keep to themselves like this, they'd be worse off than when they'd first come. Reluctantly she dragged her gaze away from the shaman and the perplexing daemoni prince next to her and back to the Muareg with lightning jumping from his palm to the mage light and back again. Slowly the mage light began to waver. Ciardis assumed that meant the sand dweller was taking control of the magical essence that formed the ball.

  As it wavered, the light stretched and dimmed into a soft glow. The glow spread out like putty between the Muareg's fingertips until lightning no longer spread between his palms; instead a web of power lay on a horizontal plane, as if he had spent the afternoon weaving a glowing net of silvery-white light.

  “What's he doing?” Christian finally demanded.

  Terris spoke then: “We know where the camps are; we just have to get down into the sand plains undetected and through their security perimeters before the sun rises.”

  “And this will help us do that how?” Ciardis asked.

  This time Ciardis could hear a smile on Terris's face without turning to the right to catch her friend's expression. “By giving us a map which will allow us to conceal ourselves from everyone else.”

  “How?” Ciardis asked with a frown.

  Terris shrugged. “That's up to him.”

  Ciardis felt confusion rise in her chest as she dragged her gaze away from the glowing web between the Muareg's fingertips and up into the enraged vision of a dragon whose eyes had transformed from a calm, humanlike gaze to the red slits of a Sahalian enraged.

  “I'm guessing you object,” Ciardis said quietly. She wasn't even sure she knew what the dragon was objecting to. A theory? A magical trick? An unknown path.

  “You guessed right,” said the dragon ambassador with a snarl.

  Ciardis and Raisa turned to Terris at the same time to watch the woman known as Kithwalker impatiently toss her beaded braids over her shoulder with a shrug.

  “I don't care if you object,” Terris said with an uncharacteristic bravado that had Ciardis's eyebrows rising in awe. It wasn't often that you saw someone bluffing a dragon. Not someone who wanted to live, anyway.

  Terris continued as she pointed back to the center of the group with a nod, “Because that will not only get us between those two groups but inside the walls of Kifar with none of our blood shed.”

  How exactly is that? Ciardis wondered.

  Before she could blink, something started to happen with the flattened plane of light, and Ciardis's eyes widened as she let out an involuntary gasp. She watched as the silver web solidified and rose above the Muareg's hands like an architect's rendering made of the moon's rays.

  Buildings rose between and over his palms. An entire landscape of dunes and walls appeared to encase his hands. It spread with quick precision, and they all watched as a beacon of light emitted from the tallest building in the city straight toward Ciardis Weathervane.

  It stopped inches away from her chest and the straight line frayed into a network of fragments. A path of light now lay before her and the glowing city in the Muareg's palm. A light that led directly from the dune they now stood on, down through the valley of armed brigands, and up under the miniature version of the walled city of Kifar.

  6

  Ciardis looked at the map and felt what could be best described as intense frustration.

  She wanted to get through this gauntlet of a challenge alive, and to her that meant all of it.

  She thought about her question and simplified it in her mind. She didn't know what exactly the ball of light that had unfolded into a sort of map was.

  She just needed to know one thing.

  What can this thing do for us?

  She was tempted to voice the query herself, but the shaman beat her to it.

  “It is quite pretty, but what is your plan, Kithwalker?” said Rachael in a whisper.

  Oh, she's mad, Ciardis thought in amusement.

  Terris looked up, and without pause answered the shaman. “We have a new way to get into the city. The Muareg's way.”

  “All right, next question,” Thanar said with dark amusement in his voice. “What makes you think he's telling the truth?”

  “Which part?” muttered one of the soldiers.

  “What was that?” Sebastian asked sharply.

  Ciardis wasn't sure if that was intended to be a reprimand or a genuine request for more information.

  Apparently the soldier took it as the former.

  The soldier with a half-frown on his face turned his chestnut eyes away from her best friend, straightened up, and snapped a half-salute toward the prince heir.

  “Sorry, sir!” He stood still and silent.

  Probably hoping to avoid being snapped at…again.

  “I said,” said the prince heir after waiting a patient few seconds, “explain your inquiry.”

  The soldier hesitated and then stepped forward.

  “Sir, the marauders that stand between us and our quarry,” the soldier said. “Even if we somehow use this map to get to the city of Kifar, we still have to worry about getting inside with a thousand or more armed brigands at our backs ready to cut us down.”

  The second soldier nodded and put a hand on the shoulder of the first, who looked back and let his friend take his place.

  Terris regarded them both with a calm face.

  “He's right, prince heir,” the man said with a cough. “No matter how we get through this gauntlet of brigands, we'll have to worry about their friends immediately banding together and assaulting us at the gates. We'll be exposed on three sides and could hold off…maybe fifty of them. But not all.”

  “Speak for yourself,” said Raisa. “Your weapons are nothing against the scales of my true form.”

  Thanar said darkly, “Is that an offer to transform and kill them all for us, my dear?”

  Raisa smiled back. “I'm no errand girl. Solve your own issues, daemoni.”

  Sebastian sighed. “Let's get back to the plan. We need to get through and stay alive after we do.”

  “And the wyvern needs to lose its head,” said Christian.

  “Yes,” said Sebastian. “That also would be preferable.”

  Everyone turned to Terris. Except the dragon ambassador, who seemed to be acting as the lookout. Or was scouting a desert creature for a nearby meal, Ciardis wasn't entirely sure.

  She's doing the best she can, Ciardis thought.

  We all are, answered the prince heir unbidden.

  Ciardis bit her lip but didn't return a word. She couldn't. Because if she did, she might say something they both regretted.

  When Ciardis focused on her best friend and the wife of Lord Meres Kinsight, Terris Kithwalker, she was tugging on the edges of two of her thin braids gripped tightly in hand.

  Terris's version of a nervous tic was something Ciardis hadn't seen since they'd been caught breaking into Lana HarpSinger's chambers after smearing sticky honey on her second-prize-winning harp's strings. To be fair, she'd deserved it. But the blistering lecture they'd received from their sponsors, Vana and Serena, had only been outdone by the ensuing punishment—they'd had to wax and clean over a hundred harps each in the Musicians' Guild.

  Ciardis's fingers had been left bleeding, and Terris's mortification had her swearing that this was the last time she did anything at Ciardis's bequest again.

  Of course, that was until the next month and the next encounter, but that was neither here nor there.

  Now they were embarking on an adventure of Terris's making.

  But then Terris dropped the braids caught in her hand, and it was as if a wind of confidence lifted her before all their gazes.

  She looked up firmly and said, “As I said. The map is more than just a map. In fact, it's the reason we are lucky to have the Muareg in the first place.”

  “The only reason?” Thanar asked.

  “Because if so,” Raisa said in a whisper, “we can dispose of him now.”

  Sebas
tian snapped his fingers in front of everyone. “Can we focus, please? No more jokes.”

  Ciardis's lips thinned as she tried to get a clear look at the dragon's face. For some reason, she didn't think the ambassador had been joking.

  Finally Christian cleared his throat and asked, “So what is it?”

  “A road map,” Terris proclaimed.

  The shaman came forward and looked the three-dimensional visual up and down.

  “Well, it's quite pretty,” Rachael said caustically. “But we already know where the city is and the route to get there. Our problem is not the route but the obstacles that lie all around it!”

  “Is that all?” Terris asked in a tone of smug amusement.

  Ciardis shook her head. She looked at the magical object and back to her friend's face. Terris was no idiot. She had something up her sleeve. Trouble was, Ciardis had not the faintest clue what that was. Ciardis looked at the object hovering in the air like a three-dimensional children's toy, and she couldn't fathom the answer to the question of how they got from here to there without running into the hooligans between here and there.

  No one else can either, Ciardis noted. Thanar was staring at it with narrowed eyes and a peeved expression, and she spied the soldier to Sebastian's right running his fingers through his close-cropped hair with a distinct frown on his face.

  It didn't exactly look like this was turning into a regulation mission.

  Or a safe one.

  And his, as well as his contingent's, top priority was Prince Heir Sebastian's safety, so she could understand the soldier's hesitation.

  “Terris,” Ciardis finally said in exasperation. “If you've got a plan, now is the time to share it with us all.”

  “Yes,” said Christian. “Before we end up having to ask a certain daemoni prince for a lift across the sands and over the wall.”

  Sebastian perked up. “That's not a bad idea.” He peered at the map and pointed while he muttered, “As long as we stick to the perimeter and avoid the largest gathering of the contingents here and here, we can stay out of their line of sight. Add a dragon carrying passengers and we cut our time in half.”