“I expect Kull Naga Myrthyd will want a full accounting of this expedition,” Driano said. He tugged on his robes and tapped his shoulders to dust them off.
“You’ll do just fine,” Lailoken replied. They’d need to report in but it could wait. Finding Alushia was more important.
“But the Kull—”
“He’ll either enjoy your tale or he won’t. I don’t care right now.”
Driano hesitated, grunted, and slapped Belthos on the head. “Come, boy. It’s time we rid ourselves of these brutes.” The Magus and his novice scurried away for the Black Tower.
“Want us to take you home?” Darlonn asked.
Lailoken shook his head. “No. You go and rest. I’ll be fine. Ori, Tozgan…it was my pleasure working with you. When the Kull Naga calls again for our services, would you be willing to join us?”
Tozgan replied for both of them. “It would be an honor,” he said with a tip of his cap. Ori agreed. They shook hands and the crossbowmen walked away into the mass of people milling in the streets.
“’Til next time,” Jor said. She shook his hand and Darlonn’s, winked, and walked away, avoiding the beggars calling for coins.
“Are you sure you’re fine to go by yourself? I don’t mind,” Darlonn said.
“If I were a scared little boy, I might consider your protection, but I’m sure I can manage,” Lailoken said with a grin.
“Fair enough. We’ll be in touch.” Darlonn embraced him and left, going the opposite direction of Jor.
Lailoken stood within the walls of Kulketh and watched as his hunting party dissipated. Then he turned north for home.
He passed the busy town center where vendors called out, selling their vegetables and assorted handmade goods. A few people called out to him, recognizing the slayer, and thanking him for his service. Lailoken smiled and politely waved, though he didn’t feel like being social.
Evros’s words still bothered him, though he knew without a doubt they were false. He tried shaking them, but the cool, calm way he spoke to Lailoken made it seem like he was thoroughly convinced of his lies. Were dragons that devious to truly believe their own falsehoods? he thought. What other reason could it be? Clearly it was all a ruse to fool him and slow him down enough so he could escape.
Fresh fish!
Wheat for sale! Get your wheat over here!
Wanna new belt? I’ve got the best leather goods in Tregaron!
The vendors hawked their wares but he ignored them all. He had no need of their overpriced goods. All he needed was at home…except for Etain.
Other than to bother him with smoothly delivered lies, Evros forced Lailoken to think of his lost wife Etain.
He remembered when they first met. It was at the mid-summer Order of Eschar celebration when he was eighteen-years old, close to Alushia’s age now. Etain had long flowing red hair like Jor and the most gorgeous green eyes he’d ever seen. They were like summer fields after a rain, glistening and vibrant. The sprinkle of freckles across her nose made him think of the stars above.
For a long time that night, Lailoken watched her from a distance. She danced and twirled to the music. At one point, she stood on a wooden stage and sang along with the musicians. Her voice was powerful and alluring. He never expected to fall for someone at the celebration; he was there to meet with older slayers and hear their tales of the hunt, but when he caught sight of Etain, he was ensnared.
Long into the night, he debated if he should approach her. Then, after several mugs of ale, he made his move. It wasn’t pretty at first.
“Hey, I’ve never seen you around here,” he said and hiccupped.
She giggled. “No, this is my first time in Kulketh. I’m from the village of Evenmount to the east.”
“The—hic!“ he hiccupped again, “the forest people?”
“That’s what outsiders call us. We prefer to be called people. Like you.”
“Well, that’s the best thing I heard all night!” Lailoken stumbled and caught himself before he fell over his own feet.
“Maybe you should have a seat. I think you’ve had too much to drink.”
“I don’t need no seat! I need—” and those were his last words before falling down and knocking himself out. When he woke, Etain was gone, as were most of the revelers. Several scowling Black Magus stood around him.
“We cannot have our slayers inebriated at the first sign of drink,” the tall skinny Magus said. He was bald and without facial hair and clad in the traditional black robe of the Order.
Another Magus, shorter but with a full black beard, chuckled. “Come on, let the boy be. He’s just excited like the rest of us. Midsummer is here and not a dragon for ages. Life is good.”
“Brother Burham, do not give this one an excuse to slack on his morals.”
“Bah. Brother Elorin, leave him be. He’ll face death soon enough. Let him enjoy what life he has left.”
The two left him lying in the street, sore and hungry.
Days later, he tracked down Etain who hadn’t left Kulketh yet. He gave her red roses daily, and she accepted each one and promised to one day reveal herself to him. Excited at the prospect of being with a woman, Lailoken dutifully continued bringing the roses every day for a month. Finally, Etain gave in.
“Lailoken, I will reveal myself to you, but first we must marry. I am not one to disrespect custom. We must first do that above all else.”
Three days later, they were married by a low-level member of the Black Magus whose duty it was to attend to such matters.
That night, the couple consummated their marriage well into the night, Etain praising Lailoken for his prowess. Nine months later, Alushia was born while he was on a hunt.
Lailoken was very proud of his small family. He’d gone on two hunts during Etain’s pregnancy and returned with a reward both times. By the time Alushia was born, they were on their way to a long, prosperous life on the small homestead he’d earned for his skill and bravery.
Then the unthinkable happened.
When Alushia was only four months old, Etain disappeared. Lailoken came in from the fields to find their daughter crying on the floor. “Etain! Etain, where are you? Why’d you leave Alushia alone?” he called out. The prolonged silence sent fear through his body. He scooped up his little girl and scoured the home and neighboring fields but found nothing. No clue gave away what happened to her. There were no footprints, no sign of a struggle; nothing. After several days of searching with the help of his brother and fellow slayers, they came to the conclusion that a dragon had stolen her away, though the only account of seeing one was made by a small boy at the edge of town who, when questioned further by the Black Magus, recanted his story and was whipped for his lies.
He never saw her again. How did Evros know her name then? How did he know about her disappearance?
By the time he reached the edge of his property, twilight was settling across the land. Far away, a small flame flickered through a window at his house. The smell of the animals blew in along the fields, a scent so comforting to him. His daughter would be inside, possibly with a pot of stew, and she’d be surprised by his presence. It had been too long since he’d been home.
He reached the door and hesitated. He heard noise inside that didn’t sound like Alushia. Had she taken a man? With as much as he’d been gone, he understood, though it was his daughter. His daughter. No man would have her without his permission. Lailoken pushed open the door and raced inside.
“Father!” Alushia exclaimed. She jumped up from the floor where she’d been stroking the head of Brida, her snowcat, and gave him a tight hug. He smiled, more to himself for thinking she’d been sneaking around behind his back. “I’m so glad you’re home!”
“So am I.”
CHAPTER
Eight
Lailoken’s return to his homestead didn’t assuage his concerns about the lies told to him by the dragon-man. When out in the rotting fields, he had a difficult time focusing on the task at hand wi
th the oxen. His mind returned to the conversation he had with Evros over and over.
“Is that how a slayer leads a team?”
“What? I’m doing my best. Whatever you did to these oxen while I was gone, I now have to undo. You didn’t talk to them like they were pets again, did you?”
Alushia laughed. “Like Brida? Maybe.”
Lailoken rolled his eyes. He struggled with the ox, pulling tight on the reigns to urge it forward in a straight line. At this rate, planting the winter wheat would take a lot longer than expected, and when he expected less than half the field to return anything to eat…
Brida prowled along the edge of the field, her bright white fur in stark contrast to the dark ground.
“Maybe if you’d talk about your trip and share what’s on your mind, you’d stand a better chance of getting BoBo to work right,” Alushia said. She’d been behind him, planting the wheat and having an easy time catching him.
“Nothing from the hunt would interest you. It was brutal and we lost the dragon.”
When they finally finished a row, they took a break, sitting against a tree at the edge of the field.
Lailoken’s gaze followed Brida creeping after a small animal in the distance.
“Father, you were gone so long. I wondered if you’d been taken by the dragon. I had terrible dreams most nights. Black, tattered dragons soared in the sky, their eyes plumes of smoke. They devoured everything in their path, turning my dreams into nothingness. I had the oddest sensation staring at the void they created and feeling--truly feeling—a threatening abyss. I’d wake most nights and fear going back to sleep because the void felt dangerous.”
Lailoken didn’t know what to say. The visions Alushia shared sounded like they were invented by Evros, though he experienced something similar once.
“I wish you didn’t have to deal with those nightmares, Alushia. I’m here now, and unless called to hunt soon, I should be home for quite a while. Let’s finish these next rows before it gets dark. The way BoBo is moving,” he squinted at her with a mock scowl, “it will take days to finish this field.” He winked and stood, extending his hand to her to help her up.
Her eyes reminded him of Etain, though her hair was a much darker black. Her eyes were full of life and so bright. They were the same shape and color as her mother’s, and when Alushia smiled, his heart broke as he thought of Etain’s disappearance. One day, Alushia would find someone to share her life and leave him, and only then would he possibly find rest for his grieving soul.
For the rest of the day, Lailoken’s thoughts dwelled on Evros and his lies. The thought of Etain still alive gave him hope that maybe she might be found. He convinced himself they were lies, though he couldn’t shake them from his memory. He had to report to Myrthyd anyway and considered speaking with the Kull about his encounter.
The next day, he went to the Magus Tower. Lailoken left early so to reach Kulketh by mid-morning. The interrogations often lasted several hours and he wanted to be home before dark.
The road to town was crowded as villagers and beggars from around Kulketh travelled to the market to enjoy a few days of the vices offered by the town. Most often they’d end their stay with time in the Magus Tower, seeking forgiveness for their sins committed while in Kulketh. For a half-drac, they’d be able to wipe their slate clean and return home cleansed of their sins. The Black Magus hoarded those coins to pay the slayers for their service and for the upkeep of their tower, not to mention the robust meals and generous consumption of ale. Most of the order wore round bellies like a talisman against hunger.
Lailoken avoided the main market area, not wanting to deal with the crowds and constant barking of the vendors. There was an ever-increasing presence along the streets of families that begged for food and money. It seemed like they increased daily.
He travelled along the outer edges of the market near the smaller established shops and inns where the noise was not as bothersome. Young boys cleaned the streets and were busy about their task as one of the Black Magus novices clad in a black robe with a white sash supervised their work.
“You missed that pile of dung!” the novice scolded one of the boys. He whacked him on the head with his hand, sending the boy reeling. The boy dusted himself off, asked forgiveness, and cleaned the dung from the road. His face twisted and he turned his head to the side as he scooped up the dung with his hands and dropped it into his wooden bucket.
“Better. Now get back to it. At this rate, you scoundrels will be out here till sunset, and I’ve got better things to do than watch you scoop dung from the road.” The boys hurried back to their jobs, no doubt worried the novice would strike them, too.
Novices often remained in their stations for a year or two before being tested by a special council of the Order. If they passed, they were ordained a Magus. If they failed, they were relegated to manual labor and their powers silenced. Their hard labor of menial tasks was to harden them for a life of service.
Lailoken left the novice and his apprentices and walked by several blocks of buildings until he approached the immense Black Tower of the Magus. It rose high into the sky, its peak piercing the clouds. At each entrance stood two large Tower Guards clad in black-coated armor with long pikes held upright. Lailoken approached the pair nearest him and they crossed their pikes, blocking entrance to the tower.
“Halt. What business do you have with the Black Magus?” a guard asked. The other one narrowed his eyes, the scar on his face twisting into a gnarled river of red flesh.
“Bilgron, must you act so impersonal every time I come to the Tower?”
Bilgron grinned warily.
“No one approaches the Magus without reason.”
The scarred one spoke. “What’s yours?”
Lailoken sighed. If these idiots were going to force him to be formal, he’d oblige. “I’ve been summoned by his highness the Kull Naga Myrthyd to report on my hunt. My name is Lailoken, slayer for Kull Naga Myrthyd.”
Bilgron spoke. “Let him pass, Troyer. He’s telling the truth.”
Bilgron and Troyer moved their pikes aside, allowing Lailoken to pass, and turned back to the street, waiting for the next visitor to harass.
“If they were any dumber, the Order might need to use sheep to replace them,” Lailoken muttered as he stepped inside the cavernous hall.
He followed the immense entrance to a central open area ascending into the building. Standing in the center on the mosaic image of Rowyth, he looked up. Sunlight streamed in through stained-glass windows as floor after floor rose higher in the air. He often wondered how such a large building with nothing in the center remained standing for so long. It was a marvel to look at. Black wood and white marble streaked with black and grey were offset by beautifully colored tapestries that hung on all the walls. They depicted the origins of their world and the settling of Tregaron. The mighty feats of past soldiers led by former Kulls told the story of how Tregaron had established itself after the reformation a thousand years ago. They fought back the weak southerners who chose the path of the dragon and Deavos instead of the one true god Menos, a demanding god who outlawed the union of dragon and man.
Standing in the central hall, he could hear whispers all around as Magus and their guests discussed current policies and Myrthyd’s mandate to secure their borders against invasion from the south. The rise in halflings was a sign the southerners were stirring against the north, a common theme amongst the snippets of conversations.
Myrthyd was young; about the same age as Alushia but projected a wisdom and confidence that no one disputed. As a champion dragonslayer, Lailoken had met with him several times, even while he was still yet a novice, and always left impressed by the young lad’s composure.
“Fascinating, isn’t it?”
Lailoken turned, startled, and faced the Kull Naga. The Kull was almost as tall as Lailoken with a shaved head and black mustache and beard, though the beard wasn’t full and betrayed a boy of eighteen. It would be years before he
looked like a man. He wore the black stone pendant of the Magus, a tool to enhance his innate abilities.
“Kull, I didn’t notice you there. My apologies.”
Myrthyd waved him off. “Pah, enough with the formalities. It’s great to see you, Lailoken! Come, regale me with your latest exploits. I’ve heard from Driano, but I want your take.” Myrthyd led him down a dark stone hall with red tapestries of some of the bloodiest hunts ever depicted. Red and green dragons were slaughtered by slayers while a figure representing the Kull Naga stood in the distance. Near the end of the hall, they ascended a small staircase where Myrthyd stopped at a guarded door. The guard opened the door, Myrthyd waving Lailoken into his study.
“Please, have a seat.” Myrthyd flicked his fingers and the two candles on his desk came to life, instantly illuminating the room.
Lailoken sat across the large black wooden desk from Myrthyd. The room was sparsely decorated in contrast to the halls outside.
“Tell me, Slayer, how did the last hunt go? I hear one got away. Driano was most upset, though his novice thought his anger a bit funny. Poor lad, he’ll pay for that I’m sure.”
Lailoken shifted in his seat. He came here for this, but still, explaining his failure to the Kull unsettled him.
“A large Onyx dared to show itself. We attacked, but somehow it escaped. We then tracked it to a cave and I went in for the kill. It used its evil ways, transforming itself into a man, and spoke with me.”
“It shifted? Interesting. It’s rare they shift here. At least not where we can see. It must have been anxious to speak with you.”
Lailoken cracked his knuckles and spoke. “It did. The dragon-man spouted lies about…” he paused. Speaking her name brought so many memories. “He spoke about Etain. He claimed she was a dragon herself.”
“A dragon? Your wife? That’s not possible! A slayer would know the difference!”
“I agree. He was confident in his lies. Almost had me doubting the truth.”
Myrthyd crossed his arms and leaned back.
“It cannot be true, can it? There’s no way Etain was one of them. Right?”
The Blood Stone Page 5