Tail of the Dragon

by Timothy Reihm

  Chapter 17

  Hemlan knew that this was his chance to make an impression. A recommendation from Barman would go a long way toward securing his desired choir assignment. For several days after receiving the message he waited, but no one came. He’d started to despair that the prisoner had been warned about the letter's interception. And then, as if nothing were out of the ordinary, one of his regular callers arrived.

  It became immediately apparent that this meeting was not as all the others had been. Although he failed to successfully eavesdrop on the discussion, a heated exchange was obviously taking place. The prisoner attempted to remain still with only partial success. His hands remained pressed to the table and his body stayed quiet, but despite the distorting quality of the haze surrounding them, the movement of his head was obvious.

  His guest made very little effort to conceal his agitation. He spoke animatedly with hands flying around and frame jerking. Hemlan was transfixed by the scene. It was unlike any of the prior visits between the two. He stared at the visitor, trying to make out the words. That anguished mask froze suddenly, the fire and bluster gone in an instant. The arella practically collapsed into his chair, like a sail robbed of the wind.

  The murky curtain around the pair disappeared, but the prisoner’s guest made no move to depart. He sat rigidly, staring at the table. They resembled a grotesque mural depicting some historical conference.

  ‘Go,’ the prisoner commanded and Hemlan realized it was the first time he’d heard him speak. He sounded steady and commanding, so self-assured.

  Without hesitation the other rose, gathered his robes, and turned to leave. Hemlan handed him the log book and watched as he filled in the required information. He signed and strode from the room. Before he realized what he was doing, Hemlan followed. Rushing up from behind he grabbed the arella’s arm and attempted to cover his nervousness under a mask of stern authority.

  ‘I’m afraid I’m going to have to see the message inside your robe. I have orders.’

  The other looked ready to object at this request from a mere telmid, but the broken aspect returned and he reached into the folds of his garment, pulling the linen sheet out and handing it to Hemlan.

  It was blank. The prisoner knew. Hemlan had overplayed his hand. Barman requested that he ask to see any messages, but didn't authorize him to demand anything. He claimed authority he didn’t have in the hope of making an impression. Well, he might make one, but not the type he wished for. He had gone out on a limb. Either he would admit his mistake and stop this before it got worse or push it a little further. He decided to forge ahead.

  ‘Get up,’ he bellowed as he entered the prisoner’s chamber.

  For the first time since the prisoner’s arrival, he turned his eyes to Hemlan. The steely blue retinas seemed able to cut through him. The prisoner’s angular jaw clenched, but nothing else moved.

  ‘I need you to move to your pallet,' Hemlan said with only a slight quaver in his voice.

  Those eyes continued to bore through his confidence as he tried to stand his ground. He recognized, looking at that face, that he had gone too far. He felt alone suddenly, standing just a few paces from this dangerous arella. The prisoner’s mouth slowly curled in a frightening simulacrum of a smile.

  He attempted backing up, but his muscles were frozen. The prisoner cocked his head slightly and Hemlan's chest tightened painfully. He tried to breathe, but the air was too thick, too heavy. He strained against the weight, trying to pull breath into his lungs. He grabbed his throat, hearing the strangled gasp of his struggle. As his vision began to cloud, he looked into the unwavering, unblinking eyes of the menacing angel. They held no compassion, only contempt and… amusement.

  Hemlan’s world went black.

   

  The boy’s words caused his heart to clench with a familiar fear.

  ‘You know what to do,’ he said, stepping out onto the balcony and leaping into the darkness below. He dropped, letting gravity pull him away from the light. He spread his wings wide, causing his fall to become a graceful swoop toward the cover of the woods bordering Angel’s Haven, Ligoth’s recently completed development.

  The forest and darkness would offer some cover, but if there was a full-fledged hunt he would need better than an arboreal screen. He crouched and, keeping to the shadows, headed toward the river.

  The early mining practices of the Yolenes evolved dramatically through the eons. Their first efforts involved gathering nuggets of ore and processing these easily acquired materials. The three spires that stood like guardians over the town had provided plenty of material during the first phase of development.

  As the town grew, so did its appetite for a wide range of metals. Within a generation, mine shafts extended from the main caverns in all directions. But eventually these too proved insufficient. Eltoth’s father solved the problem by drilling down. Fifty feet beneath the caves he discovered a chamber that linked all three mountains. An underground river ran for miles under rich mineral veins. Since that discovery, tunnels had been systematically bored in an elaborate system that continued beyond the boundaries of the town. Air shafts could be seen in all corners of the city' linking the subterranean maze to the world above.

  He passed by one such shaft and paused. He would not flee underground again. The memory of inching along in total darkness on Erascus made his flesh crawl. He kept running.

  He needed to ascertain the representatives' intent and observe them without being seen. He left the safety of the trees and sprinted quickly downhill. The river cut a deep trench that ran through the town before disappearing at the base of the nearest mountain spire.

  As he passed into the cover of the river valley, he took flight, passing silently above the docile surface of the water. It was a risk to fly. His aura would be like a beacon, but he had no other choice. A light attached to a small skiff ahead caught his eye. He threw up a black mist around himself and swerved toward the bank, trying to stay beyond the reach of the torch's wide net of illumination.

  ‘What was that?’ a startled voice yelled as he swept past, the fraying edges of the luminous seine just catching the train of his shield of illusion.

  He moved too fast to hear the reply. He shot through the town, spire growing quickly in his path. The crash of the river falling into the cavern below was just ahead. He landed quietly and began climbing, careful to remain hidden in the numerous clefs that the jagged rock offered. A wide gash in the cliff towered above him, like a massive knife wound. He stepped into the recess and was totally concealed from the view of the town. He flew up to narrow ledge that provided a protected observation point.

  He could see two small groups of natives, clutching torches, hurrying through the streets. Probably the night watch making their rounds. That boat's light shone out on the river. Its occupants undoubtedly speculating about what had just passed by. But the town was quiet, with no evidence of a search party. He sat back, breathing a bit easier. It was strange that the representatives had shown up at Ligoth’s home. He was now a member of the high council. Perhaps they visited all of the leaders, but the timing was odd. He knew from experience that it wasn’t usual practice to show up, unannounced, after dark. That type of visit caused problems.

  He looked around realizing that once more he was creeping, hiding from shadows and felt angry. Just when his strategy began to coalesce, he was forced to scurry away like some kind of scared animal. Then he spotted them, two distinct auras strolling towards the administrative district. The familiar glow of Aralim and Cherubim stood out against the black backdrop of the sleepy town. The sight of the representatives, walking casually, enraged him. He cowered on this rock while a couple of second-rate arella strode through the city he had created without a care in the world.

  ‘I’m tired of running. I’m tired of hiding,’ he thought. ‘I’m going to put an end to this one way or another.’