Eleanor strode to the library and passed behind the tapestry into her ritual room. She’d never raised the dead before, but it was possible—she could see the spell in her head. It was dark magic, blood magic. Nothing she wasn’t familiar with, in theory.
She flipped through her grimoire but didn’t find exactly what she was looking for. This would take creative magic. She was up to the task. Grabbing a piece of chalk, she carefully constructed a pentagram on the floor, correcting any imperfections until the shape was as perfect as she could make it. Now for a power source. Her gaze landed on her collection of hearts. Brynhoff’s had dimmed from her earlier spell. Too weak. She’d never waste Marius’s diamond on this. Her eyes fell on a navy-blue sapphire. Killian’s. She snatched it from the shelf, placing it at the apex of the pentagram.
On the top westward point, she positioned a bunch of dried wolfsbane, the queen of all poisons. Any sorceress that would manipulate another woman’s fertility would share a connection with the plant. Across from it, on the top, eastward point, she situated a black candle. With a snap of her fingers, the wick ignited. Below the candle, she offered a loaf of freshly baked bread she conjured from the kitchen. Surely any soul she called up from Hades would be hungry, and she wasn’t above bribing information from the witch. On the last point, she rested a silver chalice.
A sound came from the entrance. She drew a symbol in the air to open the ward, and Ransom entered with a young boy at his side. He couldn’t have been more than seven and was dressed in the black uniform used for training in the pits. He trembled under her gaze although his chin stayed high.
“You’re a brave little dragon,” she said.
“Yes, Empress.”
“Ransom, you may leave us.”
The man hesitated but turned on his heel and left when her eyes met his.
She held out her hand to the boy. “You have no reason to be afraid. From you, I’ll only need a few drops.”
“Drops of what?”
She reached out and grabbed the boy’s arm, dragging him toward the symbol on the floor. His face went ashen as she sprouted her talons. “Push up your sleeve, brave boy.”
He did as she requested, although he could not hide the terror that painted across his young face. She speared the boy’s skin and allowed his blood to drizzle into the chalice. She had to hand it to the child; he didn’t even scream, just wept silently.
“There.” She shoved him away, and the boy grabbed his arm, although it was already healing. “Speak nothing of this. Go find Captain Ransom and tell him that I have found you braver than him and I said you could take the entire day off training to feast on whatever you choose.”
That turned the corners of his mouth up. She waited until he’d left the room to return to the ritual.
“Crimson Vanderholt, I call you from Hades. Come forth and answer me.” She repeated the mantra in the language of her ancestors, concentrating on the symbol.
The inside edges of the pentagram bubbled with black oil. It bled like ink to the center of the symbol, pooled, then spiraled into itself.
“Come forth!” she commanded again, and the oil rose, broke apart, became smoky. Legs formed, then a torso. When the smoke faded, a worn woman with wavy blond hair stood before her, wearing a bustier, a tattered skirt, and leather boots. Every part of her was black or a shade of gray, including her somewhat translucent skin. The bags under her eyes loomed the same color black as her lips. Not resurrected, then. A ghost. Good enough for now.
“Who the fuck are you?” the ghost asked.
“I am the one who has called you forth. My spell will force you to respond to my questions. It will be easier for you if you don’t fight giving me the answers I seek.” Eleanor paced around the outer band of the pentagram, assessing the woman. She certainly didn’t look powerful. She had the presence of a half-drowned rat.
“Why would I fight it? No matter what they tell you about Hades, it isn’t the party you expect.” She glanced down at the wolfsbane. “You should have used cannabis,” Crimson said, placing her black-nailed hands on her hips. “I would have come faster.”
Eleanor didn’t know what cannabis was, but she didn’t appreciate her spell being critiqued. “Tell me what role you played in making the offspring of Raven and Gabriel.”
Crimson’s eyes narrowed, and then she laughed. “So my spell worked.” She rubbed her thumb across her chin. “Simple fertility spell with a trap door. I wove Raven’s magic into it so that she couldn’t absorb it and undo it. Tied his life to the sexual act. Forced them to couple within the symbol. Child’s play.”
“Why did you do it?” Eleanor asked through her teeth. “You must have known the offspring of a witch and a dragon would be a monster capable of limitless power.”
Crimson shrugged. “Sort of the point. If you must know, I planned to eat the kid’s heart to achieve immortality.”
Eleanor studied the woman, respect blossoming despite her haggard appearance. Crimson must have been a powerful sorceress, indeed. But something didn’t make sense.
“Are you human?”
“I was.”
“What made you so sure you’d ever see the whelp again?”
Crimson smiled, displaying a mouthful of black-lined teeth. “Raven agreed to it. Witch to witch. A magical covenant. If I broke the spell over her beloved Gabriel, she would owe me her firstborn child.”
“You are owed the child?” Eleanor’s heart began to pound with excitement.
“Unfortunately, a witch’s death causes any magical agreements they entered into to become null and void. I am, shall we say, corporeally challenged? I couldn’t enforce our agreement even if I wanted to.”
Eleanor toyed with the citrine ring on her left hand. “What if you were resurrected?”
Crimson’s dark mouth gaped, the tip of her tongue sliding across her teeth. “I don’t know who you are, lady, but I like the way you think.”
Chapter Sixteen
Asfolk Palace
Rogos
After a long, sleepless night dreaming about Leena, Colin was relieved to learn they’d been given the use of a carriage to travel to Niven and the Temple of the Sacred Pools. He’d been approached by Ambassador Raj last night, after the big announcement, and told that finding the crypt that held the golden grimoire was now the top priority of the lord and new lady of Rogos. Therefore, both Quanling Marjory and Leena would escort him to the temple, where Leena would remain assigned to the mission. After all, no time could be wasted bringing another scribe up to speed.
This was good news to Colin, who considered it a stroke of luck to get a few more days with Leena. It also meant he could meet directly with the commanding general of the archers of Asfolk as they made their plan of attack. He’d already sent a falcon to Sylas, informing him of the turn of events, and met briefly with Rook, the leader of the DOGs in Rogos, at the ball last night. The underground was alive and well, circumventing the Obsidian Guard through a series of tunnels and private homes. With any luck, the move by Rogos and Darnuith would spur Nochtbend to join their cause. The vampires were already heavily invested in the underground.
Only, as he climbed into the carriage, Leena might as well have been a block of ice sitting across from him. She barely looked in his direction. Quanling Marjory boarded behind him, and the carriage jerked into motion. Leena’s mouth seemed bent into a permanent frown, her eyes affixed to a spot outside her window.
“Did you enjoy the banquet last night?” he asked them both to break the tension.
Marjory lit up. “Very much. You must suspect I do not indulge in that sort of eating and drinking very often as Quanling. Our sacred texts encourage a simple lifestyle. It is pleasing to the goddess.” The wrinkles around her lips grew more pronounced. “I suppose it is true that a scroll written by an intoxicated elf would be rather useless to the future of our race, but I must say that an occasional dalliance with such luxuries feels good for the soul. That cake! Glorious.”
He g
lanced toward Leena, but she did not turn from the window. “I agree it was delicious. I couldn’t quite place the flavor.”
“That is because it was thornfruit. Very rare. As you might guess by the name, it isn’t any fun to harvest and so is only used for extremely special occasions. I’m not surprised you’ve never tried it, even with the time you’ve spent here. I’ve only had it twice in all my years.”
“That explains it. We don’t have thornfruit in Paragon.”
“I doubt it would grow in the volcanic soil.” She smoothed her robes. “Here, it flourishes in the marshes of the Mystic Wood.”
“I’ve heard there are snails that live in those marshes that can be intoxicating to elves.” Colin watched Leena carefully for a reaction. A muscle in her jaw twitched like she was grinding her teeth, but she didn’t turn her head.
Marjory gave a heady laugh. “Now you’re making me revisit my adolescent years. Oh, I remember doing snails. Harmless good fun, although a huge waste of time. I’m afraid they won’t work on dragons, though.”
“Pity. I’ll have to stick with elven ale.”
“No one brews it better!” She gave him an authentic smile. “All this talk of banquets and ale… Are you sure you’re up to returning to the simple meals and hard beds of the temple, Colin?”
He grinned. “I’ve spent most of my life on a military cot. It doesn’t bother me at all. Anything to find the information we need. I do wonder, though, if Leena is sad to leave the palace. She hasn’t said a word since we departed.”
Now she turned her head, her purple eyes narrowing to slits. If looks could kill, he’d surely be dead.
“Oh, you’ll have to forgive Leena,” Marjory said. “I believe this was her first banquet and her first time out of robes since she was a child.”
Leena glanced at her and nodded once.
Colin furrowed his brow. “Surely you must have attended one before you entered the order.”
The smile faded from Marjory’s lips, and she glanced at Leena as if to say shall you tell him or shall I?
“No.” Leena’s eyebrows bobbed with her words, her expression softened by a hint of what he interpreted as embarrassment. Her cheeks tinged pink. “Never. Actually, I entered the temple at nine years old. I’d never experienced anything like that. Well, not as far as I can remember anyway.”
There was something about her tone that made his dragon grow cold. Nine was the age she’d told him she’d competed in the Animus Games with her father by her side. What had happened that year to make her a ward of the temple?
“Is it common for a child to take the oath to become a scribe?”
Leena looked away and licked her lips. This time, her Quanling did answer for her. “No, it’s not common, and she didn’t become a scribe as a child. Leena was orphaned that year. The temple took her in.”
“I didn’t become a scribe until I was an adolescent,” Leena added, glancing at him again. “Sixteen.”
Colin’s stomach filled with lead. This wasn’t right. How could anyone make a decision that required giving up a normal life when they’d never had one? No wonder she’d kissed him. She’d never had the opportunity to kiss anyone before. She’d never had the opportunity to experience any of the world as an adult.
“Colin, are you unwell? You look as though you might be sick,” Marjory said.
He cleared his throat. “Fine.” He straightened and focused on his own window.
“Oh,” Marjory said softly. “I have been thoughtless. After what happened with your mother, of course talk of being orphaned must disturb you.”
He gave her a slight nod, only to appease her.
“At any rate, we should be arriving soon. We’ve left the wood.” She gestured to the window and the stretch of desert beyond it.
An orphan. Colin tried his best not to stare at Leena, but his eyes were drawn to her side of the carriage again and again. He kept picturing her, small and vulnerable, dressed in robes before she even understood what they meant.
But he couldn’t think about that now. They’d arrived and were pulling up to the stone building that was the Temple of the Sacred Pools. He followed Marjory and Leena out of the carriage.
Sand blew across his toes, and the sun baked him with a concentrated and brutal intensity that would be uncomfortable for most creatures. As a dragon, he wasn’t bothered by the heat of Niven’s desert, but the dust and sand instantly turned his throat dry as a stone.
The closest sacred pool shimmered a half mile in the distance. He’d always wondered who was the first to discover that it wasn’t water reflecting the burning sun but an acid so strong it could burn a dragon. Absently, he ran his fingers over the scar on his right arm. When Leena helped him find the orb of Rogos, they soon discovered that any tool they tried to use to retrieve it would dissolve before they could get the orb to shore. In an act of desperation, he’d shifted his arm and reached in for it.
Although his dragon scales had survived the ordeal, he’d suffered permanent burns that were present on both his soma form and his dragon. He didn’t regret it. That orb and the cog it’d concealed were part of the answer to winning this war.
“The room you stayed in before in the west wing is still available,” Marjory said. “Shall I ask the Fratern to show you the way?”
“No, I remember.” He adjusted his pack on his shoulders.
“Very well. Leena will meet you in the library to begin work as soon as you’ve settled in.”
Leena’s eyes widened. “Wouldn’t you like to rest from the journey? We could start after the evening meal.”
Colin frowned. “No, I’d like to get started right away.”
Her face fell, but she bowed and retreated toward the east wing without a word of protest. As he turned to go to his own room, Marjory caught him by the elbow.
“Did something happen between you and Leena?” Marjory asked. “She seems quite preoccupied with avoiding you.”
He gave her a reassuring smile. “She stepped on a snail in the Mystic Wood. She made me dance with her. Said she’d never danced before and wanted to try it. Perfectly innocent but embarrassing for her, I’m sure. I admit my earlier snail comment was to tease her about it. She’s right to be angry with me.”
Marjory studied him. “I always worried Leena had taken her oath too soon. What you say does not surprise me. I think I should like to dance again if I had the excuse.” She grinned then. “I’m relieved it’s nothing serious. I’m sure she’ll be over her embarrassment soon enough to help you. Meanwhile, I suspect she’ll be highly motivated to find that crypt.”
As soon as Colin dropped off his pack, he made his way to the sacred library. Stone and darkly stained wood shelves extended in rows from the massive wooden entry to the outer boundary of the room, each laden with leather tomes and stacks of tightly rolled scrolls. At the center of the library, the ceiling was open to the floors above. He counted six balconies above him. There were more, he was sure, hidden beyond a silver mist that hung like a storm cloud at the base of the seventh. He knew the floors extended below ground as well; just how many was anyone’s guess. The temple library was physically massive, but Colin understood that elven magic was at play here as well. Just as a scribe’s quill never ran out of ink and their scrolls never ran out of room to write, the sacred library never ran out of shelf space.
The scribes had recorded history since the founding of the kingdom of Rogos. At the center of it all was an altar of white marble. He found Leena flipping through a massive dusty tome at one of the many library tables scattered between the shelves.
She looked up and gave him a questioning look. “Do you know what year Medea hid the book?”
“It had to be right after Tavyss died and she was resurrected.”
Leena narrowed her eyes. “Where is Tavyss buried? Is it possible this is as simple as finding his grave?”
Colin raised his eyebrows. “That would be unlikely. When dragons are killed, their body disintegrates. The only th
ing left behind is their heart… Um, a gem about this big—” He formed a circle with his hands in front of his chest. “It matches our rings. Usually, whoever kills us takes it as a trophy or leaves it for the earth to swallow with time. We don’t have cemeteries because, well, we don’t die of natural causes.”
Leena scowled. “So Eleanor might still have Tavyss’s heart?”
Colin shrugged. “It’s possible. She’s not beyond keeping it. It wouldn’t even be the worst thing she’s ever done.”
With a grunt, Leena closed the book in front of her and placed it on the white stone altar at the center of the library. She scribbled a few symbols, and the book disappeared back to the stacks.
“I have the year the scroll was created. I’m calling up all references to Tavyss. We should be able to find a record of the exact date of his death. Then we can cross-reference all graves sealed around that time.” Leena wrote the request on the scroll, and magic swirled across the white table. “This will take some time. The magic needs to sift through scrolls and reference books dating back centuries.”
“There is the chance Medea hid the grimoire before Tavyss died.” Colin scratched the stubble on the side of his jaw.
“Wouldn’t Medea need it to attack Brynhoff and Eleanor?”
“Maybe. But it seems likely that Medea and Tavyss were double-crossed. If they thought they were going to Paragon to make peace, she might have left it behind. Or maybe she knew there was a risk of it falling into the wrong hands, so she preemptively locked it away.”
Leena groaned. “So we must consider all graves from just before the war to just after Tavyss died.” She scribbled again on the scroll, and Colin watched the magic absorb her request. “You know, we can narrow this down, but even if we identify the grave, without the three sisters translating that enchanted scroll, I don’t know how we’ll be able to use the key. It requires a code word in order to position the gears properly. I pray they find what they went looking for.”
The Dragons of Paragon Page 11