Nardus bowed. I hate dragons.
Tharos continued, “My queen, I ask you this one favor. Grant Nardus an audience with Peorvem and my debt to him will be repaid. Then Nardus will leave this place and never return.”
Quldrai stood. When she did, her head touched the ceiling. She stretched out her wings and they reached either wall. She yawned and sat back down. “Only because of your debt to him will I grant this. Then he leaves for good.”
“Agreed,” said Tharos.
Quldrai stomped the ground and the wall to her left turned to dust. Where it stood was another tunnel, much smaller than the one that had led down to where they stood. Tharos guided them forward and into the tunnel. Little light penetrated this tunnel, and nothing lined its walls other than the blackest obsidian Nardus had seen since the statue of the three-headed snake in the room underneath the ruins of Mortuus Terra.
Another hundred yards of twists and a long descent and they arrived at another chamber. A cold, blue light filled the chamber, just enough light to see that there was a pool of water that stretched a quarter mile or farther. Bubbles and steam rose from the otherwise still waters.
Tharos bowed low, and Nardus and Theyn followed his lead.
“Ancient one, we seek your knowledge,” said Tharos.
The waters quaked, and a pale-blue dragon rose from beneath its surface. White strands of hair hung from his elongated snout and white hair clung to the tops of his eyes like eyebrows. Nardus had never seen a dragon with hair. Then again, he’d only ever seen two dragons before arriving there.
“Why have you roused me?” The booming voice shook the ground and Nardus dropped to his knees.
Tharos rose. “Peorvem The Ancient, this man seeks that which cannot be found.”
Peorvem drew near the edge of the pool and pulled himself from the water. He stood half as tall as Tharos. He closed his eyes and nodded.
“Yes, I can see the aura of the spell around him.”
Nardus blinked. Spell?
Theyn looked up at Nardus. “Do you know what he’s talking about?” she said in his mind.
Nardus shook his head. “I’m not sure what I’ve agreed to.”
Peorvem beckoned Nardus with a clawed hand. “Come closer, son of Ƨäʈūr.”
Nardus rose and approached the dragon with apprehension. Peorvem took one of his claws and pressed it against Nardus’s temple.
Peorvem groaned deep. “This will take some time for sure.”
“How many hours?” asked Nardus.
The old dragon laughed. “If only it were that simple. At least a week. Perhaps two. I’ve never seen a spell rooted so deep.” He stroked the hairs underneath his chin. “This will not be without pain.”
“I don’t understand. What does any of this have to do with Cyrus?” He glanced up at Tharos. “You said Cyrus arrived when I did.”
“He did,” said Tharos. “Now, Peorvem The Ancient will draw him out of you.”
Nardus felt his legs grow weak, and he sank to the ground. Had Cyrus returned with him from the conjured world just as Cinolth had?
How many more souls possess me?
Nardus nodded. “I’ll never be ready, so do what you must.”
Peorvem took a deep breath and began drawing runes into the rock floor with one of his claws. In all, Peorvem drew twelve runes around Nardus. Then he took a scoop of water from the pool and filled the runes. The water glowed bright-blue and the tingle of mezhik flowed into Nardus. The feeling sickened Nardus, but he couldn’t move.
Light from the runes shot into the air with a burst of water and sprayed the ceiling. Pain akin to needles pierced Nardus’s temples, and he screamed. The chamber’s blue light slowly faded from his vision until nothing remained but darkness.
He searched for Vitara’s voice in the darkness but heard nothing. How would he survive without his anchor?
Then, Theyn’s voice entered his mind. “Be brave, my love. I will never leave your side.”
It was the last thing he heard before slipping down into a deep sleep.
But then the sound of beating wings filled his head as his nightmares came to life.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Solasportus, a small fishing town and port of the northwest, lay at the bottom of the valley below. Nothing remained of the town but charred, hollowed-out shells of mud and wooden structures. Rakzar growled deep in his throat, not because of the loss of life that had occurred but because of the one who’d inflicted it.
Murtag.
Murtag’s name remained at the top of Rakzar’s execution list, just below that of Käíeƨ.
“Don’t lose sight of what’s important,” said Amicus. “I did for one single night and it cost me everything.”
Rakzar had spent several days trying to get Amicus out of his head, but nothing worked. Amicus’s presence persisted, and he made appearances at the most inopportune times. Because of him, Rayah had begun to question Rakzar’s sanity even more than usual. Several times in the last few days. Sooner or later, he’d have to tell her the truth.
Rakzar rose up on his hind legs. He towered over Amicus. “Yes, I know. I will see this through before I make a move against Murtag.”
Amicus looked down the hill where Rayah sat on a large, flat rock. It was one of the only rocks on the entire hillside. “She cares about you even though she may not show it. Be gentle with her and protect her with your life.”
Rakzar huffed. “Don’t you think it’s kinda late for that advice since I’ve already sentenced her to death?”
“Trust me, nothing is ever too late until you’re dead.” Amicus laughed and faded away as his laughter trailed off.
Rakzar dropped on all fours and trotted down to where Rayah sat. She rolled a flower stem between her thumb and forefinger, but her gaze didn’t settle on the twirling lavender and yellow flower. Instead, she focused her gaze across the valley. Rakzar followed it over to the burned-out remains of Castle Portador Tempestade. Dragnus’s rotting corpse still hung from the top of its eastern wall—the only wall left standing.
She’d gone through a lot that day. Even now, Rakzar sensed fear pouring from her pores like sweat. So much strife riddled her life, and he’d been the cause for a lot of it. Guilt tore at his insides and threatened to manifest into words of sorrow and regret. He swallowed them down.
He walked past Rayah and purposefully nudged her shoulder. “Let’s get to the base of the mountains before nightfall catches us.”
She sniffed. He assumed she wiped her eyes as well but didn’t glance back to confirm. They trekked down through the valley and up the other side in silence.
A nice change from her constant banter.
Through the castle ruins and along the coastline, Rayah continued to hold her tongue. Rakzar tried to forget about it and slough it off, but it wore on his conscience. Concern built in his gut until he couldn’t take it anymore.
Rakzar broke the silence with the stupidest question that had ever crossed his lips. “What’s on your mind?”
Amicus laughed in his head.
Rayah paused and looked down toward the Discidium Sea far below. “I’ve been thinking a lot about our situation. What if there isn’t a way to kill Käíeƨ? Or what if you do manage to kill her but it doesn’t break the spell? Or what if the spell is broken but its effect can’t be reversed?”
There wasn’t a specific instance at which Rakzar could point to that defined the shift in his thinking, but it had to exist. He turned back and stood next to Rayah. Words he wasn’t even sure he believed spewed from his mouth like uncontrollable vomit. The more he tried to hold them back the more of them that came out.
“You of all people should have no doubt as to what will happen. Your God listens to you, Rayah. I’ve never known another god that has. He answered your pleas in the dungeon no matter how absurd they seemed at the time. If you’ve prayed to your God about this path we’re on, I know it will lead us to victory o
ver this curse. Nothing will stand in our way.”
Rayah hugged his neck. Genuinely hugged him. His first instinct was to toss her over the cliff, and it took a lot of control to keep himself from doing it. But then something strange happened. Something unexpected. His arm slipped around her shoulders, and he pulled her close. She smelled of wildflowers with a hint of mint on her breath. Perhaps a little dust as well.
“Thank you.” Rayah cried into his neck.
He held her tight. “You mention this to anyone, and I’ll end you. Understood?”
“Tell me I’m not interrupting something.”
Rakzar and Rayah released each other and had their weapons drawn by the time they spun around.
Urza stood upright several yards back, her knives twirling in her hands. She smiled deviously.
Rakzar lowered his axes. “That’s a good way to get yourself killed.”
Urza shrugged. “You’ve gone too soft, brother. I never would’ve snuck up on you a few months back.”
“Why are you here?” growled Rakzar. “You’re supposed to be resting.”
“I’ll rest when I’m dead. Besides, you clearly need someone to watch your back.”
“I’m glad you’re here.” Rayah sheathed her knives. “I think we will need your help.”
“Saw your handiwork on that thing in the woods.”
“That was Rayah’s doing,” said Rakzar.
“I know,” said Urza. “She’s the one I’m talking to.”
“Whatever.” Rakzar turned and headed south. “Let’s find a place in the mountains to camp for the night. The path to Tectus will be too treacherous to travel at night. For a dryte.”
† † †
Rayah woke to the sound of chirping birds. The sun hadn’t risen in the west yet, but it had begun turning the dark skies shades of purple and blue. She sat up and found herself wedged between Rakzar and Urza. It explained the warmth she felt despite the frigid mountain air that had settled on them during the night.
Rakzar and Urza stirred and were up and moving by the time she wiped the night from her eyes. After a quick breakfast of dried fish and stale bread—at least that’s what she ate—they headed toward the mountain trail hidden deep in the forest.
Nearly five hours and several abrasions later, they finally arrived at the cave entrance that led into Tectus. Two dwarves dressed in battle armor and donning several weapons guarded the entrance.
The one to the left sized them up. His long, red beard twisted into a braid below his square jaw and featured several silver and turquoise beads. His bushy eyebrows gravitated toward the center of his face and hovered over a broad nose. The other dwarf looked similar to the first, but his hair was far more orange than red. Both of them were bald.
The dwarf with the red beard pointed his axe at Rakzar and Urza. “Yer kind ain’t welcome ‘ere.”
“Since when?” growled Rakzar.
“Since yeh can’ be trusted,” said the second dwarf.
“I’ve never dug my claws into a dwarf before,” said Urza. “You wanna make this the first time?”
Rayah stepped between the two dwarves and Rakzar and Urza and held out her arms. “Violence isn’t going to solve anything.” She turned to the first dwarf. “Would you let them through if someone vouches for them?”
“Not unless it be a dwarf who does so,” said the second dwarf. “None ever would though.”
The two dwarves chuckled.
Urza bent down and met the dwarves’ gazes. If anything, it strengthened their resolve, but then she dropped a name they knew. “Torbrek Stonebreaker.”
The two dwarves looked at each other wide-eyed.
“She knows Stonebreaker?” asked the first dwarf to the second.
They both turned back, eyes narrowed.
“What yeh know of ‘im?” asked the second dwarf.
“He’s a friend,” said Urza.
Click-click!
Knives slid into her hands. “Made these for me.”
The first dwarf stepped forward and examined the spring-loaded sheathes strapped to Urza’s forearms. He grunted several times and then nodded. “That be Stonebreaker’s work, alright.”
“Then we can pass?” asked Rayah.
The two dwarves looked at each other again for several moments before the first nodded.
“A friend of Stonebreaker is a friend of all dwarves,” said the second dwarf.
The two dwarves stepped aside, but the first one scowled at Rakzar. “Thievin’ is punishable by death.” He drew his finger across his neck and made a choking noise.
To Rayah’s surprise, Rakzar said nothing. The three of them entered the cave and made their way down to the first level of the city, a good twenty-five meters below the cave entrance. As with many of the dwarven cities, Tectus consisted of seven levels.
The first level served as the marketplace and housed the forges and leather workshops. Many wares could be purchased in various shops including clothing, weapons, and armor. Some foods were sold as well, mainly dried meats.
The second level served as housing for the vast majority of the population, and the third they used for anything having to do with agriculture. It also served the entrances to a plethora of mines that ran throughout the Procerus Mountains. Gold, silver, copper, tin, iron, jewels, crystals, and many other elements of worth.
The fourth and smallest of the levels served as the dungeons. No more than fifty cells existed, and less than half of them were occupied. The Tectan Dwarves prided themselves on two things concerning prisoners: reform and death. Few ever survived in the dungeons for more than a year.
The entire army resided on the fifth level, a strategic position used to protect the sixth level, where the king, the treasure vaults, banks, royal advisers, and royalty lived. Several measures of defenses were deployed on the fifth level as well. No enemy had ever breached the fifth level in Tectus’s several millennia history and they boasted of it via dozens of sculptures and murals spread throughout Tectus. In truth, the Tectan Dwarves were a mighty and proud people. Some considered them too proud.
A vast space riddled with catacombs lay underneath the sixth level and housed the dead. Royalty, patriarchs, and citizens alike rested there, going back many millennia—far before they’d started recording history.
Rayah, Rakzar, and Urza made their way down to the fifth level where they’d likely find Torbrek Stonebreaker. After several inquiries as to his whereabouts, they finally located him at the back of the armory where he studied the latest techniques of making armor and weapons. They waited there in silence for several minutes until Urza finally cleared her throat.
Torbrek hardly glanced up from the weapon he examined. “Can I help you?”
Urza approached Torbrek while Rayah and Rakzar hung back. “Torbrek Stonebreaker. It’s good to see you.”
Torbrek laid the weapon down on the table next to him and peered up at Urza. His eyes sparkled, and the depth of their blue hue amazed Rayah. He cocked his head and tapped his foot on the solid rock floor. After a few moments, he wagged a finger at her. “I do know you, don’t I?”
Urza held out her arms and showed him her sheathes. Torbrek’s eyes brightened with recognition. “I’d never forget such beauty and craftsmanship, especially of my own making.” He eyed Urza again and smiled. “Ah, yes. It’s coming back to me now. The Butcher. I hardly recognized you without your necklace of death.”
The Butcher? Rayah had never heard anyone call Urza that before. Then again, she hadn’t known Urza long.
Urza fingered her breastbone, likely the place where it used to hang. “Those days are in the past.”
“I see,” said Torbrek. “Should I no longer call you The Butcher then?”
“Urza,” she said flatly.
“As you wish. So what brings you back to Tectus, Urza?”
Urza glanced over at Rayah and motioned with her head for Rayah to join her, so Rayah did.
&n
bsp; Torbrek examined Rayah as he would one of his weapons. “My, my, my. So much beauty in such a small package. And what is your name?”
Rayah’s cheeks ignited with fire but she couldn’t look away. “Rayah,” she managed.
Torbrek took her hand and kissed her knuckles. “The pleasure is most definitely mine. How may I be of service to you?”
“We’re looking for a crystal that can turn a non-solid object into a solid one. I was told that the only people who might know of such a crystal would be the Tectan Dwarves. That’s why we’re here.” She tugged on one of her curls. “Is this information true, or have I been misled?”
Torbrek leaned against the table and groaned. “You have not been deceived. At least not in the fact that I know of what you speak. It’s a crystal known as a binding shard, hence its name, əllzíäƨzherd.”
“Then you have one?” asked Urza.
“Gods, no.” Torbrek pulled down on his face, distorting his otherwise handsome features. “That crystal is rare.”
“But won’t we need just a small piece of it?” asked Rayah.
Torbrek shook his head. “Perhaps I’m not being clear enough.” He held up his arms and balled his fists. “When I say it’s rare, I mean that no one has possessed even a sliver of the əllzíäƨzherd in millennia.”
“We’ve no choice but to try and retrieve it. Several lives depend on it—” Rayah looked Torbrek right in the eye. “—and that number grows daily.”
She figured he didn’t comprehend her meaning but wasn’t about to elaborate further. For all she knew, the dwarves would lock them all up or put them to death if they knew the danger Rakzar presented to their entire race.
If we fail, they’ll all die, and none of them will understand why.
Thinking about it like that stirred guilt in Rayah’s gut, but they didn’t have much of a choice. In war—and that’s what she considered their fight for survival—, some casualties were unavoidable. She prayed for their success and for haste in eliminating Käíeƨ.
Torbrek crossed his arms. Each of his biceps bulged between bands of leather, accentuating their size. “I needn’t know the details. I fear they would diminish my mood further because of the nigh impossibility of attaining what you seek.”
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