“Will you two get a hold of yourselves?” Reinfrid asked. He refused to laugh at Lailoken’s words. Concern crossed his face. Even after several mugs of ale, Lailoken caught the look.
“Fine, fine,” Tibaut said, wiping away the tears from laughing so hard. “It’s just too good to imagine. The man who spent his life killing dragons is accused of laying with one and having a halfling. It can’t be true, but it is funny to think about!”
The men drank long into the night, mug after mug of ale making its way to their table and down their throats. When at last Tibaut had enough, he stumbled out the door with Alfan at his side. Reinfrid remained behind, and the moment the other men were gone, he turned to Lailoken.
“Slayer, you say the Onyx spoke to you and claimed your wife was a dragon?”
“Aye, that he did. Lies, lies, and more lies. They’ll do anything to get away from me.”
“I’m not so sure it was a lie. I think these men would kill your daughter if they believed a shred of truth about your tale.”
Lailoken narrowed his eyes. It was difficult to focus after so much drinking. “What do ya mean, you aren’t sure it was a lie?”
“Dragons shift all the time. They aren’t harming anyone, and we’ve grown quite accustomed to their changes in the south. They aren’t bad…not all of them. Like us humans, there are good ones and bad ones.” He went quiet, looking around the tavern, then turned back to Lailoken. “Come with me to the south. The queen could use someone like you. Bring your daughter. She won’t be safe here, not with the way the Order insists on slaughtering all dragons and the halflings. Your knowledge and expertise would be invaluable to Queen Pethinia.”
Lailoken tilted his head, unsure if he’d heard Reinfrid right. “Are you telling me my girl is a halfling? You don’t even know her! You speak southern blasphemy!”
Reinfrid motioned for him to calm down. “I’m not saying she is a halfling, but the possibility is real. I’ve heard of a Garnet named Etain. She lives near the western shores. Quite a powerful dragon, too.”
Lailoken slammed his fists on the table. “I will not listen to your lies, southerner! You say another word about my wife, and I’ll kill you right here!” A couple patrons turned their way but left them alone.
Reinfrid leaned closer and spoke in a quiet voice. “When you’re ready to accept the truth, I’ll be at the Dragon Bane Inn in Woodpine. I’ll be leaving in a few days and could use some company on my journey. Please consider the offer.” He rose and left the tavern, leaving Lailoken in a greater state of confusion than when he entered hours ago.
CHAPTER
Eleven
The cool morning was a lie, as the sun would rise higher and turn the day scorching. Myrthyd walked in the garden on the south side of the tower among the apprentices out tending to the shrubs and flowers. One of their first tasks was to learn how to harness enough power to envelop a weed with poison and destroy just that weed and not the precious plants around it. The harsh clime of Tregaron made farming difficult, and in Kulketh, they dealt with it differently than in the other cities. The novices were allowed small black stones dipped in dragon blood to aid their magic, though those stones weren’t the same strength as the larger, more powerful stones the Magus carried.
Turning the corner, Myrthyd heard the crowd before he saw it. They were raucous, calling for the deed to be done. Men and women—children even—were calling for the deaths of the boy and girl on the platform raised for all to see, both maybe a year younger than him, but far different.
They were thin and dirty. It crushed him to see them that way. It was why he adhered to his policy against halflings. If the Drakku thought they’d destroy Tregaron, they’d have to face him. He peered into the shouting faces around him.
“Settle down, settle down,” a tower guard called out to the crowd. “As soon as the Kull Naga arrives, we will begin the sentence.”
“Evil traitors!” a woman called out.
“Death to the halflings!” a man countered.
“Our people are dying because of them!” another man cried out.
The crowd erupted in chants again, the guard trying to quiet them down by waving his arms.
“There’s the Kull!” a boy shouted, pointing at Myrthyd. In a sudden shift, the crowd reacted and roared louder at the sight of their leader, their protector. Myrthyd smiled. This was what he lived for.
He waved, not wanting them to see him as an equal but as their leader. The crowd hushed when he raised both hands high. He approached the platform and walked up the four creaky wooden steps. Guards beside the halflings took a step back as Myrthyd inspected them. He held the boy’s chin in his hands, turning his face back and forth as though inspecting an ox. He did the same with the girl. She was an ugly thing; large wide nose, warts above her left eye, and dirty hair. Her brother didn’t look much better, though his nose was considerably smaller. Myrthyd turned to the crowd.
“Today we fulfill our calling as protectors of Tregaron. As your rightful leader and humble servant, I declare these halflings guilty of treason and guilty of polluting our land with their wicked nature. Are there any among you who would counter these charges?”
He knew well there would be none. These two were halflings discovered hiding with their father and step-mother near a small village to the east. Their parents were hanged last week.
“Please don’t kill us,” the boy said.
Myrthyd turned to him. “What did you say?” he growled.
“Please let us be. We’ve done nothing wrong. We’re one of you. We belong among you. We had no choice. Please Kull Naga, have mercy on us.” The boy’s sister sobbed, snorting. The scene disgusted Myrthyd. He scrunched his face and turned back to the crowd.
“These abominations beg for mercy. What say you?”
“Kill them!”
“Destroy the wicked!”
“Rid Tregaron of their kind!”
The crowd shouted, louder and angrier than before. Myrthyd faced the two again. “You know the penalty. You have no rights in our land. We cannot allow your blood to infect our people.”
“Please! No!” the girl screamed. She tried running off the platform. A guard grabbed her and held her in place as she thrashed. The bindings around her wrists prevented her from attacking. The other guard held the boy tight. Myrthyd nodded and the guards fixed their bindings to the large charred pole in the center of the platform.
“No!” the girl screamed. “Let us go! We’ve done nothing wrong!”
“I beg for mercy! Have pity on us! We have no choice in who we are!” the boy screamed.
The guards stepped back after checking to make sure they were securely attached to the post.
Myrthyd held his arms high in the air, scanning the quiet crowd, then turning back to the two on the platform. The guards departed, leaving only Myrthyd with the children.
“Never infect our land again!” Myrthyd yelled, then produced two clouds of acidic vapor above their heads. They struggled against their bindings. Blood ran down the girl’s arm as the metal cut into her flesh. Then, Myrthyd moved his hands down.
The vapors above their heads descended down around them, growing larger and darker. The crowd silenced in awe of Myrthyd’s raw power and the execution playing out before them.
When Myrthyd ascended to Kull Naga, he quickly reintroduced the public executions of all halflings. Before him, they were done in private. He needed to make sure his people knew his power and understood their roles in ridding Tregaron of the infection plaguing their lands. He’d personally put to death every halfling discovered since he became Kull Naga, using a spell he learned from the secret tome.
The first time he produced the vapors, a council of Magus convened to discuss if his behavior was forbidden or not. The council debated for days until he could stand it no more. With a spell from the book, he compelled them to conclude his magic was not forbidden and they decreed the Kull Naga—because of his stature and role in Tregaron—should have the ex
clusive use of any magic known or unknown to further their cause. It was a blanket decree that he really didn’t need, but made it happen anyway to squash the undercurrent of dissension brewing amongst the Order and the populace at large. He’d use whatever spell or whatever means necessary to wipe out halflings from the face of not only Tregaron, but all of Rowyth.
The boy and girl screamed horrific cries of pain as the acidic vapors consumed them. The smell of burnt hair and charred meat filled the air. Some in the crowd cheered their deaths, calling for the eradication of halflings from their land. Myrthyd was pleased at the reaction. The more public executions they had, the more the people feared him and accepted his demands to remove halflings from Rowyth. He had grand plans for his people. They would one day rule over all and bring a sense of normalcy to an otherwise unruly and heathen world. And he would be at their head. The grand Magus of Rowyth, a title he considered for himself once all his plans were set in motion.
Myrthyd watched as the acid engulfed the pair from head to foot. Their screams were deafening. The crowd grew bolder, shouting for their deaths. Shouting for the vapors.
First the girl and then the boy went silent, their heads falling downward. The vapors intensified, melting the flesh from their bones. The crowd silenced again, filled with awe and morbid curiosity as Myrthyd’s acid finished the job.
A few minutes later and the muscles were sizzling and shrunken from the intensity. Myrthyd smiled wider as the spell neared its conclusion. With a loud pop, the vapors died out, leaving smoking, charred bones in place of the two living people who had struggled against their shackles only moments before.
Myrthyd turned to the crowd. “And thus, we cleanse our land of these two unnatural beings; two creatures born of sin, never to have been in existence at all. We must be vigilant in our search for truth and peace. No longer will we tolerate the evil of halflings in Tregaron. Their time is over. It is time for us to rise and reclaim what was given to us centuries ago. No more will we allow this. No more!”
The crowd erupted in frenzied applause and shouts of “No more! No more! No more!”
Myrthyd felt the sense of pride in his people. They understood now what it meant to be from Tregaron and how evil halflings were. If not, he’d make sure they knew it soon.
He left the smoldering skeletons and walked through the crowd, grateful people reaching out to touch the great Myrthyd. He waved and placed his hands on as many people as possible while trying to cross through the thick crowd. He had a book to read and a puzzle to solve to make these executions unnecessary. The results would only make him stronger, and in due time, save his people.
CHAPTER
Twelve
Two days after meeting Myrthyd and Reinfrid the southerner at the tavern, Lailoken joined Jor, Darlonn, the two crossbowmen Ori and Tozgan, and Magus Driano with his novice Belthos at the Black Tower.
“Lai! It’s good to see you again!” Darlonn said, embracing his old friend. Jor did the same as the crossbowmen shook his hand. Driano barely acknowledged him with a slight nod, but Belthos was all smiles.
“Lailoken, it’s a pleasure to join the hunt with you again,” Belthos said, earning a quick rap on his head from Driano.
“Boy, another outburst like that, and I’ll send you back to the fields where we found you.” Belthos hung his head in silence.
“Are you gonna be like this the entire way?” Jor asked. “The boy is excited, and with you berating him like that, he might snap and come after you. I’m not so sure I’d stop him.”
Lailoken and Darlonn laughed. Ori looked surprised and Tozgan grinned.
Lailoken felt comforted in this group. He was his best while on the hunt. Though he loved Alushia dearly, tending the fields and livestock did nothing for him. Out in the wilds tracking dragons was all that mattered. Having Jor and Darlonn at his side meant so much. An image of Etain bubbled up in his mind and he forced himself to push it down. Not now, he thought.
“Ready?” Lailoken asked. Each member of the group carried large leather packs on their back with their weapons except Driano, who used Belthos like a pack mule. The Dragonback Mountains were at the southernmost edge of Tregaron beyond the great wall that ran between Woodpine, the home of the Verdant Tower; and Fearglen, the home of the Crimson Tower. It was the edge of their world and a natural boundary with the southern lands. The trek would be difficult as they’d go on foot, the Magus adhering to an ancient ban on riding horses with the rest of the group sworn to abide by their customs.
“Get on with it, then,” Driano scolded and started for the southern road. Those on the streets cheered them on, knowing not what they were after, only that a hunt had been started. Many recognized Lailoken, Jor, and Darlonn. The slayers had been on many hunts and gave the same parting accolades.
“Slay that dragon!”
“May Menos guide you!”
“Lailoken, will you marry me?”
Jor laughed at the question. She looked around to find the source of the voice. “I guess you might have an offer of a wife, Lai! Maybe when we get you back, you can find her and marry again.” She was grinning from ear to ear.
“Unless it’s Etain come back from her imprisonment, I want nothing to do with her.”
“How long has she been gone?” Ori asked.
Darlonn turned to shush the crossbowman, but it was too late.
“Long enough. She has to be alive. I know it,” Lailoken said quietly.
“Slayers!” a voice from the crowd called out. A short balding man limped toward them.
“Tibaut!” Lailokan said, embracing the man. Last they met, they were drinking hard in the tavern. Tibaut no longer hunted dragons due to the injury suffered on his last hunt. The dragon thrashed when he plunged his sword into its heart, slamming the long tail of the Onyx dragon into his leg and twisting it in such a way that it was beyond repair by the time they returned to Kulketh and the Black Magus tried to properly heal him. He was given a stipend and spent most of his days in taverns telling tales that he made up. He was fun to be around and shared with Lailoken a mutual affinity for the hunt. And ale.
“Jor and Darlon, may Menos comfort you,” he said. He leaned close to Lailoken. “Be safe, my friend. I have a bad feeling about this hunt.”
Lailoken pulled back. “Tibaut, why do you say that?”
The man’s face split in two as he smiled. “’Cause I won’t be with you! Be safe, my friends!” he said, embracing them all and limping back to the crowd.
Lailoken shook his head, grinning. “Tibaut’s humor is often lost on me.”
The group followed Driano’s lead through the narrow streets until they passed the southern gate and the road to Woodpine.
“We’ve got days to go until we can rest properly. Conserve your energy,” Lailoken said.
They travelled in silence, broken only by Driano’s complaints and insistence on Belthos reciting spells and lesser important things like village names and southern history. It was enough for Lailoken to retreat inside his own thoughts where Etain and the dragon-man Evros’s words swirled.
By the time dusk was upon them, they’d made steady progress and were deep within the forest. Travelers were long gone off the road. They were afraid of bandits, a concern the slayers didn’t share. Most gave them a wide clearance, especially with a Magus in tow.
“Let’s make camp here,” Darlonn said. They all agreed and quickly started a small fire, dropping their gear around it and spreading blankets out. The group was quiet and one by one, they laid down to sleep.
That night, they were awakened by a horrific scream.
Lailoken jumped from his slumber and grabbed his broadsword. The rest gathered their weapons and huddled next to each other, Driano forcing Belthos in front of him.
“What was that?” Ori asked.
“It sounded like an animal,” Driano replied.
“It sounded like a dragon,” Lailoken said.
Darlonn agreed. “I’ve heard that sound before, but it
’s odd that it’s so far north. They must be stupid or brave to travel this far.”
“Huh?” Driano asked.
Jor grinned. “You’ll see.”
The thing screamed again, a high-pitched call that sent shivers down Lailoken’s back. He wasn’t afraid, but his nerves grabbed hold of him. The thrill of the hunt was powerful.
“It’s a Jade. Has to be. Their roars are nothing like the flying dragons,” Lailoken said. “Come, let’s kill the intruder. One less dragon is always a good thing.”
He led them from their dying fire to the darkness beyond. “Be careful and stay quiet,” he whispered. They traipsed through the late summer forest, twigs snapping and leather boots scuffling along the hard-packed dirt underneath.
Another scream came from their right. “It’s closer. Keep your eyes open and be ready,” Jor said.
“Can you tell how big it is by the sound?” Ori whispered.
“Not really. Their calls can be deceiving. No matter what, Jade dragons are much easier to kill than the others. They can’t fly!” Tozgan replied. Lailoken nodded, though none could see the gesture.
The dragon screamed again, far too close for Lailoken’s liking. A woman’s shrill cry followed. He paused, the rest following his lead. “We’re nearly upon it. Jor, take Ori to the left. We’ll go right. Circle around, and when I give the signal, attack from your side. We’ll do the same. One of us will get the kill!”
“You mean, I will,” she said, clapping Ori on the back. “Come, we have a dragon to kill.” They walked in the darkness, their footsteps giving away their location.
Lailoken went right, with Darlonn next to him and Tozgan close behind. Darlonn unsheathed his broadsword and was preparing for the attack. Tozgan drew his much smaller sword, only functional if they were in close quarters. Most likely, it wouldn’t pierce the dragon’s scales, but as a crossbowman, he wasn’t expected to wield a sword.
The Blood Stone Page 7