by Clark Bolton
They all went back to watching Rau-Nap study the letter, until he finally relinquished it to his brother. “A quantum is a collection in a temple,” he mused aloud.
“What would this Tang want from it?” Bua-Nap then asked.
Rau-Nap then began nodding his head faster and faster before declaring, “The same thing we all want!”
Yi-La then felt a shiver run down her back as she pulled the letter out of Bua-Nap’s hands to look again at one particular line. “…My friend will be forever there without it…” she read aloud.
“Who?” Narween asked. “Does he mean Tang?”
“No…I mean yes…but mainly he means Bose!” They gave Yi-La mostly blank stares so she quickly added, “Ich-Mek’s best friend…the one running from the Scarm!”
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The wind was icy cold upon Apa-Ton, The Mountain of the Mage. Here Yi-La had almost forgotten how quick autumn came in the high mountains of Key-Tar-Om. As she looked down upon the school, she tried hard to focus on it, but the shadow in the sky was unrelenting.
She felt her ring glow, and the prickly feeling along her arms told her the protection spells were blunting most of the dragon-sickness. Still, it wasn’t enough to allow her to simply look at the creature circling the peak she was on.
“Are you alright?” she said to the trembling monk, who was on his knees next to her.
His name was brother Gen-Su, and he continued to quiver and pray as she tried to recall if he had been with the group of monks that had approached her in the mage-quarter. Perhaps he was the one who had slipped the letter from Ich-Mek into her pocket, she mused. It helped take her mind off the dragon for a little while, at least until it roared.
“Uuuughhh,” she moaned in fear and frustration at being forced to endure this for her master.
“Up!” Lu-Pok said forcefully to the monk as he pulled the man to his feet. “Walk around…it will help.”
She doubted this, but then thought he would know such a thing. It made her wonder if the dragon flying above them was also a dracomon. Focusing now on Master Sey-Laht, she saw that he was still in conversation with Regent Ober-Toss, who had been here to greet them on their arrival through the oval-gate. She found it very frightening to know the Regent had a dragon at his apparent beck and call.
Master Sey-Laht had all but warned her the Regent would have one here before they had left the capital. Her temporary master apparently wanted nothing to do with this dragon, and so had brought Lu-Pok with them.
When the two men approached, she bowed deeply to the Regent who jovially lifted her chin gently to say, “A delight, Fu-Sa. Welcome back to Key-Tar-Om, where you are always free to come and teach.”
She fought the desire to think of him as a dracomon, for he was reminding her very much of one right now. It was the dragon-sickness, she told herself as she thanked him kindly. Fighting the desire to ask him of Ich-Mek, she remained quiet, knowing that was exactly what her master desired.
“Prepare to travel!” Sey-Laht commanded, sending the Regent scurrying off.
This was apparently the cue for Lu-Pok to transform, something she had been fearful of since first laying eyes upon him. Without hesitation Lu-Pok marched away quickly until he was beyond simple earshot. Then the man flung his robes aside. The clothes he was left wearing seemed to shimmer for a moment then melt way, leaving a powerfully muscled physique in plain view. Then the great collar he had around his neck enlarged and fell to his hips.
Yi-La was thankful for the quick nod to modesty the collar now provided, until the true transformation began. She could handle only a moment of it before turning away to gag uncontrollably beside the monk who was doing the same. When a dark shadow fell over them she forced herself to breathe deeply, just as her master had instructed she should do. Then she turned to face her fears.
“Bring the chains, Yi-La,” her master instructed as he walked to the dragon before them.
Quickly she retrieved the set of manacles and chains they had brought for her and helped brother Gen-Su to do the same. Keeping her eyes focused on the ground she mentally forced herself forward, step by step, until the stench of the beast became so overwhelming that she was forced to her knees for a moment. Recovering, she made it close enough for her master to take the chains from her.
Her mind was so dull now that she hardly noticed her master click the shackles into place around her wrists. Then, with his mastery of telekinesis, Master Sey-Laht sent her floating upward onto the dragon’s back. With a final click, she was firmly attached to a great spiked scale along the dragon’s back, which had a metal ring set in it for, apparently, this very purpose; she knew this was for her own safety, but still found herself trying to remove the shackles.
“EEEIIIII!” she screamed at the top of her lungs when the dragon that was Lu-Pok sprung off of Apa-Ton.
The flight was beyond anything she had experienced, until, that is, they circled the great structure that was Shrindala Temple. It dwarfed the dragon under her, who she constantly tried to remind herself was just Lu-Pok. This worked to the extent that it made her jealous of his wit and his unearthly handsome looks, which would then make her wish for such thoughts to go away. His warmth on her thighs made this impossible.
In time they could make out a host of people below them who appeared now to notice the dragon. She wasn’t sure from this height, but it looked like Lu-Pok had started a panic. Figures the size of ants appeared to be fleeing from the temple back to a large village further down the canyon.
Their landing on a ledge above the temple was harrowing, but thankfully quickly accomplished. Her master then helped her and brother Gen-Su dismount, with the three of them then quickly moving away from the dragon. Moving directly to a short tunnel leading into the cliffs, Sey-Laht then consulted a scroll he had brought.
“Touch your hand to the door, brother,” the mage commanded of the monk.
Yi-La could see a small door at the end of the tunnel and so helped a still-trembling monk walk to it. When her master told her to do the same as the monk, she quickly complied by putting her ring hand upon the cold stone of the door.
“We need dragon-breath now,” Sey-Laht warned. “Steel yourselves.”
With a whimper, the two of them cringed with eyes shut before a gagging stench sent their minds reeling. Thankfully the door fell open at this point, and the two were able to tumble through the doorway and away from the foul breath.
Yi-La could hear her master command Lu-Pok to stay as she climbed to her feet and straightened her robes. A tunnel continued downward from here, and she was thankful no dragon could think to fit down it.
“Come,” Sey-Laht told them as he walked by. “Touch nothing, unless I say.”
“Yes, master,” she replied meekly as she followed him.
The tunnel dropped and turned only a short distance before ending in a second door. This one her master opened easily with a wave of his hand. On the other side they found themselves looking down onto the splendor that was Shrindala Temple.
They were near the apex of a great vaulted chamber with massive tiered steps that descended into a kind of gloomy interior where a soft, pulsating glow arose. Above them, sunlight filtered in through false-looking windows of stone. Her master then led them up the great winding stairs that also led down from here.
The stairs ended in a ward, which blocked access to a small set of steps that continued steeply upward. Owesek seals adorned the arch that hosted the ward, and it was here that Sey-Laht again consulted the scroll he had brought.
Nervously, Yi-La watched as her master set aside the scroll and then carefully parted the arcane-energies generated by the ward. “Stay here,” the mage told the monk before motioning for Yi-La to squeeze by him.
The single room the steps led to wasn’t large. A table had long sheets of rice-paper strewn across it, and an uncluttered shelf contained a few dozen scrolls. Everything was built of a bone-white stone, including a square bowl that adorned a
side table. Beside the bowl were writing instruments, making the whole place appear as some ancient mage’s study to Yi-La.
Her master hardly took notice of the rest of the room as he came to stand over the square bowl. “Where is Ich-Mek?” her master whispered of the surface of the ink-like liquid within.
Yi-La could not resist slowly approaching to better see what her master sought. The bowl began to display blurry images of some outdoor scene. It was as if two different images were being shown, one over the other. This clearly upset her master, who waved his hand over the bowl several times to wipe away the images so he could attempt again.
Eventually Sey-Laht stepped back from the bowl to tell her, “Your fiancée is skilled in avoiding detection. The Regent should be commended for his teaching skills.”
“Yes, master,” she muttered as he began looking about the room.
“Show me the location of Ich-Mek,” he suddenly commanded while standing over the long central table of the room.
She watched in amazement as the quill near her shot out over the rice-paper. Sheets began to fly over one another furiously until a map was displayed. This the quill landed upon to make a precise mark before returning to its ink well.
“Upper Ju River,” Sey-Laht announced as he studied the map.
They found brother Gen-Su meditating with his back toward the ward. He popped quickly to his feet when he became aware of them.
“Master, there are spirits near,” the monk warned.
“Yes…” Sey-Laht acknowledged without emotion, “…that is why you are here, brother.” He then glanced at Yi-La to explain, “This temple requires the presence of a monk to keep spirits at bay. And to gain entrance…so, too, the dragon.”
He had hinted as much to her back in the capital, but still she found the information astonishing. The small door could not be opened except with the breath of dragon, and the touch of a monk, which made her wonder how Ich-Mek could have possibly managed it.
“Are we going after Ich-Mek, master?” she asked fearfully.
“In a moment. First, we should pay homage to the master of masters.”
He then led them down the stairs, past where they first entered the temple. Here he paused to tell the monk to wait before descending further. On a wide landing he stopped to admire a massive inscription written across its surface in arcane-script. The name Ustclostefey was written here in bold lettering at the top of the inscription.
“He is the creator of the rings…” Master Sey-Laht told her in a hollow voice as he allowed her to read the inscription, “…and keeper of the Owesek Covenant.”
She was awed to be in such a place, and was speechless when he descended a little further to show her the monolith rising up from below. They bowed their heads like pilgrims before a shrine until Sey-Laht chose to lead her back up.
Lu-Pok the dragon awaited them outside the temple, and with shaking limbs Yi-La found herself once again shackled to him. Instead of heading back toward Key-Tar-Om as she had expected, Sey-Laht ordered the dragon to find the Ju River.
This flight was much longer than the last, and the sun had nearly set when she caught sight of the river far below them. It seemed impossibly small, and impossibly long, to be hosting the boat-like structure she had glimpsed in the scrying bowl. She couldn’t tell who had been with Ich-Mek, but guessed he traveled with more than one person.
By the time they began to make out boats on the river, the sun had set, but this seemed not to deter her master. Instead, he had the dragon fly lower, until Yi-La could make out the faces of those horrified individuals unlucky enough to have the dragon fly near.
“Watch for him!” her master yelled above the whistling wind.
She nodded her head but truly hadn’t decided what she would do if she saw Ich-Mek and the others did not. Faces soon turned to shadows as dusk turned to night, and she found herself a little hopeful that Ich-Mek would not be found. But still she was unsure what outcome was best for him.
“There!” her master announced.
Yi-La could just make out the spell-casting he was performing while he sat far ahead of her on the dragon’s back. Some type of location spell, she guessed, which made her feel guilty for not having the foresight to have one ready herself. She leaned forward desperately to try to make out where Ich-Mek might be standing. They were close to the water now, she could tell, but little more than that, until the dragon breathed.
WOOOFFFF!
The whole river and both banks lit up brightly to reveal several boats and barges. One was now a raging inferno, and Yi-La found herself nearly thrown off as the dragon banked wildly and began to beat its wings even faster.
“FOUL SKUT!” yelled Master Sey-Laht as he reached forward to send arcane-energy surging into the great collar around the dragon’s neck.
Like a dog turning to bite a flea, the dragon’s head lurched back to snap at the pain, forcing her master to leap off its back. This left two passengers with mouths agape as the dragon plummeted toward the river. The dragon somehow managed to correct its flight, but then a surge of energy struck its collar again.
Yi-La had had enough of the wild ride, which was causing her shackled wrists excruciating pain now. Bringing the spell to mind that her master had made her memorize, she first opened the shackles with an open cantrip then cast the prepared spell.
It was like falling and stopping all in one motion. She had hardly had time to come to terms with her successful spell-casting when the dragon just below her crashed violently into the trees along the bank of the river. Twigs and leaves actually engulfed her as she watched in horror as the dragon rolled over and over with a limp monk still chained to its back.
As soon as she touched the ground, she turned to look toward the dragon. It was difficult to see in the darkness, but the distant burning barge did provide some light. The dragon seemed to be slowly righting itself.
“STOP!” she screamed as she ran toward it.
She could only bring herself to run halfway before fear stopped her. The dragon was unmoving and looking at her now with glowing eyes. For some reason she thought she saw pity in those eyes. Whatever it was, it gave her just enough resolve to get closer. As she feared, brother Gen-Su was still hanging from the dragons back.
Close enough now, she cast a glow cantrip only to see that the monk’s arms were cruelly twisted, and dark blood was running down them freely. His body was completely limp and unmoving. Unsure of what to do, she stepped forward to help, but could barely reach even his feet.
Casting an open cantrip at his shackles, she prepared to break his fall, but was totally unprepared for the weight of the monk’s body. With a sick thud, the monk fell beside her and lay there, unmoving, with dead eyes looking at her.
She screamed and hurried away, nearly colliding with her master. The mage looked down at the monk’s body then, almost casually, sent another surge of energy into the dragon’s collar. This attack of his didn’t seem to cause the dragon immediate pain, but instead transformed him.
In the light of her glow cantrip, she watched the man Lu-Pok appear again. He was in agony now, and kept tearing at his collar while he screamed, until finally he just lay there panting like a wild animal.
“Bury him,” her master commanded of the dracomon after a time.
“Yes, master” came a defeated reply as Lu-Pok struggled to his knees.
She watched silently as Master Sey-Laht walked away toward the river, looking very much defeated as well. Lu-Pok then wasted little time in starting to dig a hole with his bare hands.
“I’m sorry,” Lu-Pok said ashamedly, without looking her way.
She winced at his admission, then turned away to follow her master.
Chapter 33 – Yi-La – Tres-Moda
Yi-La had nodded off serval times as she sat leaning against a tree watching her master stare out onto the Ju River. Sey-Laht was sitting on an old log and had hardly moved the whole night, and had rebuffed her every effort to approach.
At one point, she had returned to the small clearing created by the thrashing dragon to find Lu-Pok. He was still struggling to dig a grave in the hard, rocky soil. She had taken pity on him, though she told herself it was more for brother Gen-Su’s sake, so had used a dig spell to form a deep grave. She had known the spell intimately since her time with Narween under the Forbidden-Gardens, and so it had taken only a few waves of her hand to accomplish the job.
Lu-Pok had then gently laid the monk out, going so far as to close the dead man’s eyes and fold the monk’s hands across his chest. Carefully lifting the man down into the grave had looked difficult to Yi-La, but she hadn’t offered a helping hand, and felt now a little guilty about it. With a final few waves of her hand, she had sealed the grave of the first person she had ever seen die.
When dawn came, Sey-Laht finally turned to acknowledge her, signaling with a hand for her to come sit beside him on the log. “Rivers never change,” he said in a sorrowful voice. “They move and they speak but they never age.”
She had growing concern for her master: he was much older and much frailer then Master Gang, and now he looked so sad. She wasn’t sure why. Somehow, it seemed more then brother Gen-Su’s death that troubled him.
Yi-La very much wanted to ask about Ich-Mek, and whether or not he had been on that barge. But “Yes, master” was all she could bring herself to say.
He looked at her again with eyes so sad she felt tears well up in her own. “The boy is fine, Yi-La,” he assured her as he pointed across the river. “He was there for a time…and has moved on.”
“Thank the spirits,” she whispered as she slid to her knees to pray.
He laid a reassuring hand on her shoulder as she did this, saying, “Do not think his death would have sprang from the thoughts of dragon-mages, Yi-La. We are too few…and too tired.”
“Master?” she asked with a glance at his hand.
He didn’t say any more, though, until he stood and began walking back to the clearing. “Time to say goodbye to an old friend.”