Mastering the Elements: Elwin Escari Chronicles: Volume 2

by David Ekrut

  In the distance, the crashes paused. The dragon must have felt his taming.

  He set the tome on the street. He grabbed the handle with both hands and put all his weight into lifting the grate. The metal groaned in protest, but only moved a fraction. Down the street, a large shadow spread out from the intersection. Elwin’s heart pumped. His legs felt weak. Just as he considered abandoning the grate, the lid finally gave.

  A cloud of hot stench made him stagger back. He held his breath to keep from vomiting. This was it. His only path to salvation. The narrow hole dropped into darkness, but he could see several feet down.

  Instead of a ladder, divots were carved into the side. Elwin climbed down, trying to breathe through his mouth. He could taste the acrid air. His foot slipped. He fell down several steps. He caught hold of the divot. The sharp edge cut into his fingers. His eyes watered, from the odor or pain, he would never know. He started downward but stopped. The Seeker take him. His tome was still on the street above. He hastened up and groped for it. He could not find it.

  He peeked above the cobbles. He saw the tome. He also saw the dragon. Massive wings stretched wide, allowing it to hover above the street. It flew in his direction, head swiveling side-to-side. Grabbing the tome, Elwin ducked down.

  Had it seen him?

  Curse it all, he needed to close the grate. But one hand held the rivulet in the wall. The other clutched the precious volume. He considered dropping it, but looking down, he saw water. It would ruin the ink. The dragon was coming closer. He could feel its taming and hear the beating of its wings. The power of Air fueled its flight, giving it speed. It had seen him.

  There was no time for the lid. He scrambled down. His foot slipped. He lost his grip.

  Elwin flailed for the ledge with his free hand in vain. His feet splashed into watery muck. Agony screamed through his ankle. His leg buckled. He reached for the wall for support and jammed his finger. He nearly cried out.

  Then he inhaled. The reek so intense, he forgot his pains. It took every ounce of his will not to wretch up his guts. Bunching up his cloak, he held it over his nose and mouth.

  Heavy vibrations crashed into the ground overhead. Something big was running. It stopped above him. He needed to move, but where could he go?

  It was so dark. He could only see a few feet.

  If he could tame Earth, he could quest ahead and find his way. He dared not even think of his essence. Feeling along the wall, he moved away from the opening, going with the flow of the water. The sewage would empty outside the city.

  The darkness of the passing shadow was immediate. Just enough light remained to make out blue scales hovering above the hole.

  Elwin froze. He held his breath and willed his essence as far from the light as possible. His heart beat so loudly, he knew the sound would give him away. He began to feel faint. His lungs burned, eager to suck in a breath, but any stir of air could be sensed by any elementalist gifted in Air. Maybe the dragons were gifted in all four Elements. Zarah seemed to believe they were.

  A few seconds later, he heard the muffled voice of the dragon. The shadow vanished. He still held his breath. Was it gone? Or was this a trick?

  Until finally, his lungs rebelled against his will. Putrid air filled his lungs. Even through his tunic, the smell overwhelmed his senses. He sagged against the wall, swallowing constantly to keep the bile from rising. After a few minutes, the dizziness abated, as did the smell. He could still taste it, but his stomach was his own once more.

  Besides, it had to smell far better than the inside of a dragon’s stomach. He forced a small laugh. His voice echoed down the corridor. The Lifebringer knew how far it went.

  He considered climbing out and rejected the idea for madness. That dragon could be standing by, just waiting for him to exit. There would only be one way out of this place. His eyes were adjusting to the dark, and he could see further in now. The water moved faster down the tunnel. Which meant there was a way out.

  Favoring his good ankle, Elwin trudged through the refuse, holding the cloak to his face and doing his best to only breathe through his mouth.

  At the bend, the tunnel sloped downward for a hundred paces, then the way flattened out somewhat. Far ahead, he could see a white spot, the size of a needle’s eye. He ran toward it, trying not to think about the contents squishing beneath his boots.

  As he ran, the eye grew. When the light was strong enough to reach him, he could see several openings overhead, many of which dripped with liquid waste. He passed another set of handholds, leading up the wall to another grate. Once more, he considered climbing up, but even if the dragon wasn’t circling above, he could run into the city guards. They would be looking for him. If they didn’t arrest him on sight, they would take the tome.

  He couldn’t let them do that.

  Zaak didn’t want him here? Fine. But he would not stop fighting, and these pages held the answers. He felt a twinge of guilt, leaving with the tome. His king had commanded him to bring it, but he could not go back. That warder and the dragon would be waiting. No, he would not let it trouble him. Asalla had given him the incantations for a reason. This was his battle. And he would win it.

  His only regret was not being able to say his farewells to Feffer and Zarah. Or maybe it was better this way. Feffer would likely insist on coming with him, and Elwin wouldn’t be able to deny him.

  And his friend was safer without him.

  All those people. How many had died because of the dragon? No, because of him. Had he not tamed, none of that would have happened. The Lifebringer as his witness, he would not tame again until he defeated them. The cost was too high.

  Elwin stopped at the end of the tunnel. The air was fresh enough, he could breathe without the use of his cloak as a filter. The droppings were thinner here, at only a trickle falling into a reservoir that emptied into the river, which meant he was west of the city.

  He leaned heavily on his good ankle and looked to the skies. No shadows loomed. There was a vast amount of space between here and the first set of trees to the forest. Branches swayed in the wind, but nothing larger than squirrels shook the rustling leaves.

  The rocky cliff to either side of the sewage drain provided plenty of handholds. Stepping out, he felt the mouse once more. Where was the cat now? He wanted to move faster, but his ankle and sore finger forced him to climb down with slow steps. He glanced upward as he inched his way to the ground. No dragons appeared.

  He ran as quickly as his limp would allow to the edge of the forest. After catching his breath, he made his way to the river and stripped out of his spoiled clothes. He waded into the water and bathed, sorry not to have packed any soap.

  After he felt as clean as he could, he changed into fresh clothes. He almost left his boots with the soiled garments on the riverbed, but he opted for scrubbing them in the flowing water. Not being able to fly, it would be beyond foolish to lose a pair of good boots, even with the spare in his pack. Drying them as best he could, he shoved his feet into them and tied the strings tightly to put pressure on his ankle.

  He stood, then limped north and east. After an hour, his misaligned gait felt more natural than when he’d begun. The redwoods opened to a short field. Burnt patches cut across broken rows of tilled dirt. Beyond and closer to the river stood a two-story house and a barn twice the size. Several men were atop the structures, repairing damaged tiles.

  Two boys and a girl played beneath a large redwood tree. A swing hung by ropes from the lowest branch. The wooden bench, just wide enough for the three of them, faced the flowing river. The girl sat in the middle. Both boys competed for who could push the highest, while the girl dragged her feet, eliciting annoyed expressions from the other two. Their uncoordinated efforts made the swing wobble and rock.

  But they laughed.

  The sound was infectious. Despite his horrid day, Elwin found himself smiling. Then he t
hought of the warder and dragon. All those people had died. Because of him. His smile faded.

  He veered south to go around the farm.

  “Look!” a girl’s voice called.

  He turned to see the girl pointing. She could not have seen more than ten years of life. Her dark curls bounced atop her shoulders as she ran toward him. The younger boys leapt from the swing and ran after her. Their auburn hair and chestnut eyes mirrored the girl’s.

  Elwin stopped as they gathered in front of him.

  “Your hair is funny,” the smaller of the two boys said. “Why is it that color?”

  “Don’t say that,” the girl scolded. She lifted her chin and added, “It is not proper.”

  He stuck his tongue out at her, and she responded with her own stuck-out tongue.

  “Why are you limping?” the tall boy asked.

  The smaller boy plugged his nose, giving his voice a nasally sound. “And what’s that smell?”

  “I will be fine,” Elwin said, as he turned away. If the warder came, he needed to be far from here. “I should be going.”

  “Aren’t you curious about the dragon?” the small boy asked, running the few steps to catch him. “It came earlier and landed over there.”

  “Shut up, Fenner,” the girl told him. “We aren’t supposed to talk about it.”

  Elwin stopped walking. Elwin felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. It had come to wait for him. “A dragon came here?”

  Not phased by the girl’s attempts to hush him, the short boy leaned forward and said, “It just laid still and looked toward the river.”

  “Be quiet.” The taller boy shoved the shorter one. Fenner stumbled and fell on his bum.

  Fenner leapt up and pushed back. “You be quiet.”

  Elwin walked toward the massive prints. He looked to the sky, turning all around. Sweat trickled down his brow, despite the chill wind.

  “We aren’t supposed to play here,” the girl said.

  “Can to,” Fenner said, then to Elwin. “Parents are too busy to care. Dragon’s been gone for a long time. Knocked the roof of the barn in when it left.”

  She breathed in and out in a huff. “I’m telling.”

  Once more, Elwin turned to leave.

  An angry voice called, “Hey there!”

  He looked up to see a larger man running in his direction. Those on top of the damaged building took notice and began to climb down.

  “Go in the house,” the man said, as he reached them.

  “But pa,” Fenner argued. “We were just talking.”

  “I said get inside.”

  The three children jumped into action, racing each other to reach the porch.

  “Now,” the man said without an ounce of hospitality, “what can we do for you, stranger.”

  Elwin interpreted the statement to mean, We have nothing for you here. Move along before we have problems.

  “I am sorry,” Elwin said. “I meant no harm. I am just passing through.”

  The man nodded as if this was the only possible answer that would not end in a confrontation. He stepped to the side as if allowing Elwin to pass. The six others behind the man parted as well.

  Elwin limped two steps, before a female voice called, “Trand? Who is there?”

  The man flinched, and the other men scattered. “No one. Just a traveler passing through.”

  A woman in a plain dress of cotton, much like Elwin’s mother would have worn, stomped from the porch. Trand turned as if to hide his hand from the approaching woman and made a shooing gesture. His voice was much lower as he said to Elwin, “Go on, now.”

  “Nonsense,” the woman said. “He can’t go on like that. Can you not see his limp? Ugh, and what is that smell? Have you been wallowing in manure?”

  “But Marna, he clearly wants to move along about his own business.”

  Ignoring the man, she smiled at Elwin and said, “What is your name, dear?”

  “I really am just passing through,” he said, glancing at the dragon’s print. “I did not mean to trouble you. Clearly, you have enough to concern you.”

  “No trouble,” she insisted. “Let me wrap that ankle. And it is almost dinner time. We just slaughtered one of our cows and have extras. Please. It is getting late. We have a spare room.”

  “Marna,” he said through his teeth. “We do not have an extra room.”

  “He’s not using it any more,” Marna snapped. Tears welled in her eyes. “This boy can.”

  “Hardly a boy,” Trand said, eyeing Elwin.

  “What do you say, child? Would you like a meal and a bed for the night?”

  He could see the pleading in her eyes. It was obvious she’d lost someone, recently. There was a burnt funeral pyre on the other side of the barn. She looked as though she needed to help someone, but he would not risk these people by staying here. He had already cost them the roof of their barn.

  Choosing his words with care, he said, “I really can’t stay. There are still several hours of light. Someone is expecting me.” Belatedly, he added. “Thank you.”

  Her smile faded.

  Trand clapped Elwin on the back, all but pushing him along. “We wish you well, stranger.”

  “And I you.”

  He considered for a moment, then he fished out a platinum piece, worth ten gold. It would pay for their roof and help with other repairs.

  Shoving it into Trand’s hand he said, “For the barn. And your kind words.”

  Trand only stared at the coin, forehead scrunched in bewilderment.

  Before he could object, Elwin turned and marched away. Moving again, caused pain to stab through his ankle. He pushed through the aches, trying not to limp as he walked. Catching the scents of roasting meat, his stomach protested his decision to leave.

  “Oh shut up,” he told it. “Daki probably has rabbits waiting for us.”

  Elwin crossed the field, avoiding the crop lines. They’d been harvested some time ago, but he knew too well how particular farmers could be about their fields.

  After half an hour, he came to the great northern road. Just beyond the clearing, he saw a man in a loincloth, standing next to a bear and their small fire.

  Something roasted on the spit. And it smelled fantastic.

  Chapter 9

  Lessons in Murder

  Take the cannery to the cavern then release him. If his resolve is not destroyed, let him choke upon his own stench. When you are done, join us in Turney Fay. Much needs to be discussed that I dare not pen. The world is changing, my friend, as is our role within it. Power is here for the taking.

  ~High Lord Brinnon Fliste, 2999 A.S.

  ~

  Flickering torchlight struck the edges of the mineshaft at odd angles, casting misshapen shadows over the cavern below. Dark pools surrounded the pile of limp forms bent into unnatural positions. In front of the malformed shapes, two small figures held each other.

  One boy and one girl of Kalicodian descent sat with their arms intertwined. In the dim lighting, they could have been dolls, glass eyes fixed on nothing.

  Jaxton Fliste turned to the magistrate, unable to keep the rage from his voice. “They were all alive two days ago. If you had come sooner, this wouldn’t have happened.”

  “Mmm,” Thisban Penthrop mused. “A magistrate of his king’s employ cannot just venture off without proper arrangements.”

  “What are you going to do about this?”

  “Do about what? This was obviously a pocket of bad air. Mining is a dangerous business.” Thisban wrinkled his nose and turned away from the cavern. “At least it was painless. It looks like they all gathered together and fell asleep.”

  “Are you blind? These are stab wounds. There is blood everywhere. Look, there is even some on your thumping boot.”

  “Jaxton,” Thisban
said with a soft chuckle. “Your eyes are playing tricks on you. It is clearly just mud.”

  Jax pointed to the pile of bodies. “Look at their wrists. They are chafed from working in chains. These people were slavas, and now they are murdered.”

  “Slavas?” His brow furrowed. “Right, that is what Kalicodians call slaves. Like that savage who journeyed with you here. Wise of you to have him wait outside. Seeing so many of his tribesmen dead might have caused the poor savage to go berserk. It would be a pity if ill befell the poor thing for an unfortunate misunderstanding. But a beast like that probably does not comprehend such complexities as we, eh? I would wager he is only good for carrying your supplies. Which brings me to an interesting quandary. Tell me, Jaxton, do you own the man? Slavery is a serious offense in Alcoa.”

  “Daren of the Ironclad is a free man.” Jax felt his fingers settle around the hilt of his saber. “And I don’t appreciate you calling him a savage.”

  “Do not get testy with me, child. I will see you swinging from the gallows.”

  “Curse it all,” Jax said. “What in the abyss is wrong with you? Wait … He got to you. How could I not see it? Brinnon bought you, didn’t he?”

  “Your father has always paid the proper taxation to keep his mines operating, but such profits belong to the king. I am but a humble servant of our great nation.”

  It wasn’t supposed to go this way. The magistrate was the one who upheld the laws. Thisban was supposed to be the one to bring justice to these people, but this man had helped Brinnon orchestrate the massacre of two hundred men, women, and children. Carpeci had known this would happen. Why had Jax not listened?

  “I can’t believe it,” Jax said, stepping backward. “He’s going to get away with murder, and you are helping him. You might as well have killed these people yourself.”

  “I did kill these people,” he said without a hint of remorse. “Well, my men did. I know what you are thinking, Jaxton. But, you must underst—”