“Show yourself!” Lailoken called. A loud scrape like claws dragged across rocks answered him. “Come on, dragon, let’s end this now.”
A loud, deep voice called back in his mind. I’m the one who will pay? I intended no harm to you humans, and yet you injure me and attempt to murder me. Does that seem right?
“We only need your blood. It’s our right. This is our land. You know the way of our people.”
The dragon laughed heartily.
Do you really believe your words? Are we that bad? I believe your Black Magus have poisoned your minds and turned you against the truth created by Deavos.
Lailoken bristled at the mention of the false god Deavos, the father of dragons and heresy.
In the darkness, the sound of ripping flesh and crunching bones made Lailoken step back. “You disgusting, vile thing! How dare you speak ill of the Black Magus! They protect our people from the likes of you!”
Do you truly believe every word that little imp Myrthyd tells you? He’s hiding more than you know. Ever wonder how someone so young earned the title of Kull Naga? The sound of a body being torn apart forced a grimace on Lailoken’s face.
“It’s not my place to question the Black Magus. Their ways are secret. I will not argue this point with you.”
So you’d rid the world of my kind for our blood and the halflings because the teachings of the Order say so? Seems like a thin excuse to hunt us.
Lailoken was speechless.
Afraid to talk, human? You should be. I smell something…different about you. Something…
The dragon shuffled in the darkness, tossing something heavy on the cave floor. As a gust of wind whirled, a bright ball of white flame illuminated the cave. Lailoken shielded his eyes against the brightness. When his vision adjusted, he gasped.
Standing before him was a man in dark clothes, his eyes deep oily pools. To his left and behind him were the remains of an ox, the hind end missing. The man held his hand under the ball of flame as it floated as if on a cushion of air.
“By Menos!” Lailoken exclaimed.
The man smiled. “You might say that, though who knows for sure?” His short, black hair framed a face chiseled from stone with a hint of stubble on the chin. But it was those eyes, those black eyes that Lailoken couldn’t take his gaze from.
“Have I stumped the slayer? How odd. You’re familiar with our powers, are you not?”
Lailoken narrowed his eyes. “Demons you are! Spawn of Deavos, the false god of death!”
The man laughed. “You keep mentioning his name as though you don’t know who Deavos is!”
“Father of lies and deceit. The creator of your horrible species.”
The man stepped forward, blood dripping down his chin. He wiped it away with the sleeve of his black shirt. Lailoken raised his sword.
“Slayer, rest. I will not harm you. Your Magus have done that well enough.” He paused, considering the ball of flame above his hand, then pushed it forward with an unseen force until it hovered near the top of the cavern between the two of them. Lailoken eyed the white ball suspiciously, wary of it crashing toward him.
“I recognize you. I’ve heard talk about you among my kind.”
Lailoken puffed out his chest. “I imagine they fear me. I’ve slain many of your brethren.”
The man nodded. “’Tis true. You have preyed on the weak, though the stronger amongst us don’t have a flicker of fear. We’d destroy you in an instant if it weren’t for one vocal female. She’s made us promise not to kill you, though I must say, recently I was tempted to break that vow.” He grinned, his black eyes boring through Lailoken.
“I’ve slain so many of your kind that it’s a wonder you continue to travel to our lands.”
“Slayer—”
“It’s Lailoken. I want you to know the name of the man who will end you.”
“Lailoken, then,” the man said. “And you may call me Evros. There’s a dark presence to your land. The colds of Tregaron are home to an evil so heinous and devious that we are compelled to seek it out and crush it. We cannot help but to come over the mountains. It is our duty.”
“Your duty is to kill and destroy? Your methods make no sense.”
“So your attempt to slaughter my kind does make sense?” He cocked his head to the side. Lailoken said nothing, his thoughts swirling.
“Lailoken, you have much to learn. I truly want to kill you; to exact vengeance on the man who murdered many of my younger and weaker brethren. My vows prevent me, and there is more about you that compels me to reign in my anger.”
Evros shifted on his feet. Lailoken considered charging him and ending this debate. Nothing this dragon-man said held truth. True to the nature of his kind, he spewed lies intent on tricking his mind and twisting his thoughts.
“Lailoken, tell me about Alushia.”
“You dare speak my daughter’s name!” He raised the sword higher, stepping forward. “I’ll split you in half if you’ve harmed her!”
“Easy, Lailoken. She is well, and I promise she will not be harmed in any way. It’s part of my vow.”
Lailoken tilted his head to the side. “What are you saying? I swear, if your lies go much further, nothing will stop me from killing you.”
Evros turned his back. For a moment, Lailoken considered piercing him with his sword, but something in the man’s manner and speech held him back.
“What do you remember about Alushia’s mother, Etain?”
The mere mention of his long-lost wife felt like a dark force had gripped his heart and threatened to squeeze the life from him. He’d been searching for her since her disappearance soon after Alushia’s birth. No note, no clue as to what happened, or where she went. “You dragons took her from me. I’m convinced of it.”
“We did? Huh,” Evros said, turning to face Lailoken. He set his hands on his hips and stared at him.
“You do know Etain is one of us.”
Lailoken charged him, unable to stomach the lies he so causally spoke. Evros stepped calmly aside and gave Lailoken a nudge, forcing him to stumble and fall.
“How dare you speak such vile lies!” Lailoken screamed at him. “Etain was no such creature! She was a beautiful, loving woman! Your kind stole her!”
“Etain lives. Far beyond the mountains, she lives and thrives. Who do you think my vow is to? She’s an ancient dragon, more powerful and wise than any I’ve ever known. Like me, she can take human form. She speaks of you still. When you and your men first attacked me, I wasn’t sure it was you. Not until moments ago was I sure you were the great slayer of legend. But here we are, face to face.” Evros tensed. “Etain still loves you. She fears your anger over her deception.”
Lailoken sat up with the sword across his knees. “You lie! Your tricks will not deceive me! This isn’t true!”
“It is, and you know it. Myrthyd and his clan of false prophets have done much to destroy the truth.”
Lailoken jumped to his feet, wielding his sword over his head, intent on destroying this giver of lies. “I will strike you down, no matter your form! Your words mean nothing to me!”
Evros stepped back. “Now, Slayer, I’ve been nothing but honest with you. I tell you nothing that isn’t true. Think about what I’ve said. If Etain is a dragon, what does that make Alushia?”
“No! It’s not true!” Lailoken lunged at him. Suddenly, a blinding ball of light erupted in front of him, stunning him. He closed his eyes and heard the stretch of skin and bones, and an immense whoosh of air nearly knocked him down.
Listen to my words, Slayer. The voice of the dragon, deep and slow in his mind again. You know not what you do. She loves you still. Both of you.
Then it roared, forcing Lailoken to cower. He had no idea where it was or if he was in danger from a surprise attack. He waited for death, for those long claws and pointed teeth to tear into his flesh, but nothing happened. The light fizzled, and in the last remnants of flame, he saw the empty cave.
CHAPTER
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When Lailoken stumbled out of the dark cave, night had covered the mountains and the moon cast its glow upon the land. Wispy clouds were illuminated by the orb in the sky, their thin tendrils reaching into the distance. Peaks rose above the clouds, breaking their form and reminding him of how precarious life had become.
Darlonn and Ori were sprawled out near the entrance as the rest slept near a small flame further away from the cave.
The dragon-man’s words rattled around in his head. They couldn’t be true. It was impossible. He had slain too many dragons to be duped by one now. It was a lie created to stall him from killing the creature. Lailoken closed his eyes and breathed in the cool night air. Never again, he thought. I will never again let those beasts lie to me. He opened his eyes and shook Darlonn awake.
“I’m back,” he said quietly. The man smiled, and after waking Ori, they settled in next to the fire.
They said nothing for most of the night. Darlon opened his mouth to ask what happened, but Lailoken cut him off with a glare. Ori fell asleep again and Darlonn stayed up with Lailoken. When morning came and the camp stirred, Jor was the first to get him to open up.
“What happened in there? We heard something and when Darlonn entered, we couldn’t find you. We thought you were dead.”
“Not dead, though if the dragon-man’s lies are true, I wish I were.”
“Come now, Slayer; that’s a bit dramatic, don’t you think?” Driano said.
Lailoken considered his words. Even a hint of dragon blood was enough to set the Magus after his daughter. He glowered at the Magus. “You weren’t there.”
Driano waved his hand dismissively. “Regardless, we must return to Kulketh since the hunt is over. I have pressing matters at hand.”
Darlonn shook his head. After he helped Belthos pick up the camp, they began the journey back home.
Lailoken was quiet for most of the trek, brooding. Jor lead them down the mountain, the entire company silent.
The dragons stooped to new, despicable lows by claiming his wife was one of them. They knew how to needle him, to slide under his skin and force his anger. He’d never let them lie to him like that again. They must’ve been desperate to accuse his wife like so. Then to declare his daughter—his only child—a halfling? It was the absolute lowest thing they could’ve done. Whoever Evros was, Lailoken hoped to meet him again. “Nothing would give me greater satisfaction than slicing out your tongue and tearing you apart limb by limb,” he said out loud. His anger had boiled to a point where nothing mattered other than finding and destroying that lying dragon.
“What was that?” Darlonn asked. Lailoken shook his head, waving him off.
The mountain pass was difficult to navigate. The path narrowed near a ledge and Lailoken nearly slipped off the side. As he was considering Evros’s words, he stepped on small rocks, and his leg was forced wide. He fell to the ground and dangled off the ledge.
“Lai!” Jor yelled. She pushed back through the small line and knelt to pull him up. Darlonn was next to her trying to assist.
Lailoken kicked against the sheer cliff and pushed himself up.
“Are you all right?” Darlonn asked. Driano huffed as though they were hindering his progress.
“I’m fine. My thoughts were elsewhere.”
“Well, bring them back to now, would ya? It would be embarrassing to say we lost one of the greatest slayers in Tregaron to the whim of a couple pebbles,” Jor said, forcing Lailoken to smile.
A few steps ahead, the path widened and Lailoken fell to the ground in a heap, panting, and wiping sweat off his brow.
“Menos, preserve me. Allow me to return home to see my daughter one last time so I may know for certain she is not what the evil thing claims she is.” It was an impossible tale told from the mouth of a liar intent on preserving his own soul. There was no way Alushia was a halfling.
For his entire life, Lailoken had known nothing but hate for halflings. They were a plague upon Rowyth. The Order was clear: all halflings must die. Their blood polluted humanity and made them weak.
Lailoken rose from the ledge and dusted himself off.
“Are you all right to continue?” Darlonn asked. The large man, had one of the kindest hearts he knew.
“He’d better be. We’re wasting time here,” Driano said.
“If you’d cut the man some slack, maybe we’d all get along better,” Jor snarled.
“For a magnificent slayer, he sure does seem unsure of himself. We should’ve had that dragon’s blood for our stones. Now we return defeated and humiliated. The Kull Naga won’t like this at all.”
“I don’t care what that little man likes,” Jor retorted. Driano arched his eyebrows.
“Be careful who you speak ill of, dear.”
“Can we get moving now? I’ve seen worse situations than this with less tension,” Tozgan said. He took his hat off and wrung it, then put it back. “This is not the first dragon a slayer has lost and it won’t be the last. It happens. There are always more.”
Driano peered at him but said nothing.
Jor once again began the trek down the mountain, moving faster despite Driano’s protests. “Keep up. We need to get back!” she called when he asked for rest. He had no response. She heard Belthos giggle and then receive a cuff for it.
Several hours later as the sun rose higher in the sky, they entered Damol. The village was nestled at the foot of the mountains and surrounded by a thick forest.
“We can rest here for the night before returning to Kulketh,” Jor said. There were no arguments from the group, not that Lailoken expected any. They were weary and discouraged. Driano’s constant badgering of them and his novice wore on him. He relished the chance to spend a quiet evening in a room without the man’s continual taunts. They walked the streets of Damol, passing the tavern and several shopkeepers eager for customers and headed straight for the Inn. Several villagers noticed the group with their long swords, leather armor, and crossbows and bowed slightly. Lailoken nodded in return. The villagers knew why they were there and where they came from. Damol had seen its share of slayers over the centuries, and the people knew when to engage in conversation and when to leave the slayers of Tregaron alone.
Lailoken opened the door to the Inn and approached the wooden counter. A small older woman sat knitting and looked up from her work.
“Aye, Slayer, have you come to grace us with your presence?” She paused as she took in the entire group.
“We need rooms for the night.”
“I have a couple available. Might need to set someone up in the stall out back. The horses won’t bite, but the bugs might.”
“I’ll take it,” Jor said.
Lailoken tried to wave it off. “No, you take a room. I’ll stay out there.”
“Don’t give me that! You need your rest. You and Darlonn take the room. I’ll be fine,” Jor said, running a hand over a dagger tucked into her belt. She was right. Anyone who dared mess with Jor was asking for trouble.
“Thanks. I owe you,” Lailoken said.
“Yep. That’s at least three now.”
“If you two are done, I’d like to finish this transaction so we may rest for the journey tomorrow,” Driano said.
The old woman nodded. “Follow me.” She set down her work and rose from her chair, catching her balance on the counter. She waved them on and they went down a dark, narrow hallway. Keys from her waist rattled together with each slow, lumbering step. Finally she turned to the last door on the left, opened it, and held her arm out in invitation. “Your room, Slayers. Lunch is at noon and dinner is at six. Roast mutton tonight.”
“Thank you,” Lailoken said. He and Darlonn entered the room and closed the door. The wood inside was discolored from years of use. Lailoken stripped off his leather armor, draping it over a wooden stool in the corner, removed the rest of his fur outerclothes, and fell to the straw bed covered with a thin muslin sheet.
“I’ll go check on the others,”
Darlonn said. “You rest. The hunt has been hard on you.” Lailoken waved him on and soon drifted off to a fitful sleep.
A loud knocking on the door startled Lailoken awake. “Slayer, dinner is being served,” he heard the old woman say.
“Thank you,” he called back. He rolled to his back, rubbing sleep from his eyes and wondering where Darlonn was. His body ached, his mind was scattered, and his head pounded. He stretched and his stomach grumbled. Rising from the bed, he slipped on his boots and made his way down the hall to the dining room where the smell of roast mutton and freshly baked bread made his mouth water.
The rest of the group was seated at two tables, Driano and Belthos sat at one; and Jor, Darlonn, Ori, and Tozgan at the other. Jor waved him to their table.
“When was the last time you had a good meal?” the old innkeeper asked. There were other people seated in the dining room; a young couple, the man playing with the girl’s long curly hair; an older man with a shaved head and thin white beard who looked like he could have been a former Magus; and a young man who looked to be a slayer.
“It’s been some time. This looks and smells delicious,” Ori said.
Lailoken sat at the wooden table and was promptly served a bowl of barley soup, a chunk of steaming bread, and a plate of mutton with root vegetables.
“I’ll get you some ale,” the innkeeper said. She shortly returned with wooden mugs full of ale and sat them down, splashing suds on the table.
“Thank you kindly,” Lailoken said.
He ate in silence, savoring the meal and thinking about Evros’s words.
When they finished dinner and countless mugs of ale, Lailoken excused himself and went to his room and fell back asleep. He never heard Darlonn enter, but when he woke in the morning to find the man passed out on the floor, he felt bad for not letting him have the bed.
They left as the sun rose and were soon on the path toward home.
It took considerably less time to return to Kulketh than when they left. Jor kept a quick pace, rarely stopping when Driano called for it.
Two days after leaving Damol, they arrived at the gate to Kulketh.
A large black tower rose in the distance. The home of the Black Magus.
The Blood Stone Page 4