Chepon’s anger flared. The ghostly dragon swooped at the pair closer than she’d been throughout the entire fight. Jor unsheathed her sword and prepared herself. Chepon roared and aimed for them. Jor stood in front of Lailoken and sliced with her sword when the dragon flew above their heads, but it went right through the dragon. Jor fell forward and crashed to the ground.
The dragon circled back and dove for Lailoken. He cradled the gem in his hands and he was intent on not dropping it. Darlonn was willing to give his life for it. This was the reason they were here.
Chepon flew at him and he faltered to the ground clutching the Blood Stone as the poison gripped his insides. The dragon passed overhead and flew back to the top of the glowing cavern.
“Leave the gem! Leave and live!” she cried.
Jor sheathed her sword. It was useless against the spectral dragon. She helped Lailoken to his feet. “Our only chance is to flee. We cannot kill it. We have the gem! We must go.”
“I agree. Come! Hurry before—”
Chepon blasted the ground around them with lightning, the thunder vibrating their bodies. Then she dove at them again. Jor rolled away and hid beside a large rock. Lailoken stumbled and fell to his knees. He faced the giant dragon as it came down at him, clutching the gem close to his chest. He felt it vibrate furiously against his body, the heat moving up his arms and into his body. Mixing with the poison, it sent a fresh sensation of sickness within him.
It was then he knew. The spell Myrthyd recited. The words came crashing back.
Chepon’s mouth was open as if to eat him, and he held the gem out to her in an offering to rid the world of this menacing keeper of the gem. The pulsating red of the Blood Stone grew intense and bright. The heat seared through his arms. Chepon noticed, but it was too late.
As she closed in on him, the gem’s light intensified until the cavern glowed blood red. Just as Chepon was on him, the gem’s glow was blinding and bright.
The dragon cried a pitiful, painful sound. The light pulsated and the cries of agony from the ghostly dragon filled the cavern, louder and more powerful than any thunder and seemed to go on without end. Lailoken held firm, the gem growing hot and vibrating madly.
Chepon howled a hideous sound. In a flash of intense light, she disappeared. Thin curls of smoke rose from the gem.
Lailoken stood still. “Am I…dead?” He was sure the dragon had killed him and he’d soon meet Darlonn.
The sickness returned with a fury, forcing him to drop to the ground and expel what little he had left inside. Each convulsion wrenched his muscles and sent piercing lines of agony through him. When the episode passed, he wiped his mouth and cleared his eyes.
A calm quiet settled around him. After a few moments, Jor spoke. “If you’re dead, then I’m in death with you.”
The Blood Stone pulsated in his hands and he looked down at it. A faint blue glow darted from one side of the black facets to the other, trapped in the confines of the gem.
“Where’d the dragon go?” Jor asked, stepping next to him. She helped him to his feet.
“I…I don’t know. I think—” he looked down at the gem. “I think she’s in here.” It sounded absurd, but he knew it was true. The Blood Stone was now Chepon’s prison.
“How did that happen? What did you do?”
He shook his head. “I just…knew. I can’t explain. I only knew it would work. Somehow.”
Jor exhaled and clapped him on the back. “I don’t care what or why. Let’s get this thing out of here and be done with it.”
“I was hoping you’d say that,” Ori said, approaching from behind. The two slayers turned and the crossbowman grinned. “Where’s Darlonn?” Jor lowered her head and Lailoken placed an unsteady hand on Ori’s shoulder.
“He didn’t make it. He died for this,” he said holding the gem up, the glowing light inside struggling against the smooth black walls.
Jor took Ori back to Darlonn and soon both slayers were weeping. Lailoken knew in his heart his friend was gone. He watched from where he stood as the two kneeled and prayed to Menos for Darlonn.
CHAPTER
Thirty-One
Ori lit a torch and led the solemn party through the now quiet tunnels back to the entrance where they’d left Driano, Belthos, and Tozgan. Lailoken didn’t say much as they traversed the winding path, his focus on the slightly vibrating gem in his grasp and forcing his insides to obey his will. The heat from the gem had diminished, but the blue glow continued its manic dance inside the black gem.
“This gem better be worth it,” Jor said, finally breaking the silence. “Darlonn died for it. Don’t let it be for nothing.”
“I can’t explain it. There’s something about this gem. Didn’t you feel it when you held it?”
“Nothing. It was a dead rock like any other, except it did that strange glowing thing like it was a beating heart. Like it is now.” She pointed to it.
“But you felt nothing?”
“No. Are you well?”
“Shhh. I hear something,” Ori said. He pulled his short sword from its sheath and crouched. Lailoken was aware of the disturbance as well. Could it be the Garnet come back to exact revenge on them for entrapping Chepon?
Jor unsheathed her sword and stepped in front of Ori. “Protect him and the gem. Anything happens to me, you must defend it at all costs.” He nodded and fell back next to Lailoken.
They waited as the sound grew closer. A faint light illuminated the tunnel ahead to the right. The gem’s vibrations grew stronger. It had to be the Garnet, Lailoken thought. He held the gem in front of him, hoping to repeat the sequence that trapped Chepon.
Suddenly the tunnel was bathed in light from two torches. It wasn’t the Garnet, but two men.
“Driano? Tozgan?” Jor asked. Lailoken didn’t think it was them. They were larger than the Magus and the crossbowman.
“Aye. We be they,” one of the men said with a laugh. They walked closer and their features were exposed.
“Who are you?” Jor growled.
“Looks like we got a feisty one!” one of the men said. “Come on, Mortha. This must be them.”
“My pleasure, Gregor.” The two men blocked the tunnel. Mortha pulled a large battle axe from a strap on his back and Gregor dropped the torch and pulled a warhammer with a large spike at the end from the strap on his back.
“We’ll take that gem,” Gregor said.
“You’ll do no such thing!” Jor replied. She crouched and brandished her sword. “I’ll die before I let you have that.”
“If that’s what ye want,” Mortha replied.
The large man strode forward. “Give it over and don’t make me kill such a fine thing as yourself.”
Jor screamed and ran toward him. “Never!”
Mortha swung his axe and missed. Jor somersaulted and landed on her feet. She swung her sword, the blade slicing into his leather boot and sending blood slowly flowing out. Mortha yelled and staggered back.
“You vicious wench!” He regained his footing and braced himself before swinging his axe again. This time Jor could barely stop the blow with her sword. She stumbled backwards from his massive weight advantage.
Ori crouched next to Lailoken and cranked his crossbow, loading a bolt.
“Give me your sword,” Lailoken asked him. Ori held the crossbow and gave over his short sword.
Lailoken held the gem in his left hand and the sword in his right. It wasn’t ideal, but there was no way he’d drop the gem.
The one with the hammer joined his partner. “Come on, Mortha! She ain’t that hard to kill!”
Jor darted across the tunnel to avoid the hammer blow. She was a blur of long red hair.
Lailoken fought the sickness as he approached Gregor, but before he engaged him, a crossbow bolt screamed past his face and lodged into Gregor’s eye. The man screamed and fell backwards, his body convulsing as his blood pooled on the tunnel floor. Lailoken looked back to Ori, who grinned broadly. He turned to help Jor w
ith the last man standing.
Mortha swung his impressive axe. Jor deflected the blow, harmlessly pushing it aside. Mortha pulled back, hoping to catch her on the backswing. The dull side of the axe blade struck her in the chest, knocking her breath away. She fell to the floor clutching her chest and heaving.
“Get to her, Ori!” Lailoken screamed. He lunged at the larger man. At first, Mortha blocked Lailoken’s sword and swung a fist at the slayer.
“Myrthyd said ya might be difficult. No matter; we’ll still get that gem and then kill that Magus.”
Magus? Does he mean Myrthyd? Maybe it’s Driano. He didn’t have time to dwell on it. Mortha swung his heavy axe with intent to cleave Lailoken in two. The slayer twisted away at the last second. Mortha’s axe clanged loudly, striking the hard dirt. He then whipped it back and slammed the handle against Lailoken’s back. The blow struck deeply, forcing Lailoken to crumble in pain. He clung to the Blood Stone. He felt the immense power within it and feared what it could do. Mortha might kill him, but he’d never give up the Blood Stone willingly to the man.
“The great slayer forced to look like a little babe. How did you ever kill all those dragons?” Mortha pulled the axe over his head, too sure of his advantage, and Lailoken caught the larger man in the belly with the short sword. Like a dragon, the larger man moved slow and was even slower to react. Lailoken twisted the sword in his guts and pulled it free, blood pouring from the wound. Mortha screamed.
“I’m gonna kill you for that!”
“Not if I can help it,” Lailoken replied, rising to his feet. He danced to the side, narrowly missing the clumsy man’s fist, and sliced open his belly. His guts spilled out. Mortha dropped his axe and clutched at his intestines in a failed attempt to delay his death. He fell to his knees, looked up at Lailoken, and slammed to the ground. With what little life clung to him, the man convulsed. Finally, he gave up the struggle and his breathing slowed.
“Jor, are you alright?” Lailoken asked. He dropped to his knees next to Ori, who attempted to assess the damage, though Jor was having none of it.
“Get your hands off me. If you value the ability to grab something, you better remove your hands from me now,” she growled. Despite their awful circumstances, Lailoken couldn’t help but laugh.
“That’s the Jor I know!”
She slapped Ori’s hand away and forced herself to stand, rubbing the spot on her chest where the axe had struck. “That’ll leave a bruise,” she said. “Who were they?”
“I thought I heard that dumb one,” Ori said, pointing to Mortha, barely clinging to life, “say something about Myrthyd. Do you think the Kull Naga has anything to do with this?”
Lailoken wiped his face with his hand, exasperated. Were they only on a fool’s errand for a madman who wanted them killed? “I don’t know. Before we return anything to him, we ought to discover what his true intentions are.”
“If these men made it this far, do you think they did anything to the others?” Jor asked.
“By Menos, I hope not!” Lailoken replied. “Come! Our journey is not over.”
They grabbed the torches from the floor and left the bodies to find their way back to the cave’s entrance.
“Where are they?” Ori asked when they’d finally made it. There was a small fire in the central part of the cave and the two dead Jade dragons beside the walls, but the men were gone.
“Who…who’s there?” a weak voice called out.
Jor instinctively grasped her sword, but Lailoken waived her off.
“It’s us, Belthos. Lailoken, Jor, and Ori.”
From behind the headless dragon, Belthos timidly stepped forward. “Lailoken?”
“Where’s Driano and Tozgan?”
“The men, sir. The men came in and…” The novice’s face turned bright red. “I think they killed them. I hid.”
“Do you know for sure?” Jor asked. She frantically searched around the dragon bodies.
“N-n-no. I was scared.”
“So they might still be alive,” Lailoken said. “Search the cave. Look outside. Even in death, they should be here.” His stomach felt sour, but the twisting pain of earlier had eased up, making it tolerable.
Ori helped Belthos relax while the two slayers went out into the cold, dark night in search of their friends.
“Driano! Tozgan!” Lailoken yelled. The wind picked up, sending a chill over him.
“Stupid novice,” he heard a muffled voice say.
“Jor, over here!” Lailoken called. Jor ran to his side and they followed the sound of the voice to a large bush at the cave’s entrance. Lailoken held up a torch and peered behind it to find Driano and Tozgan seated on a small ledge overlooking the valley below.
“What the…how did you get down there?” Jor asked.
Tozgan turned upwards. “Jor! Lailoken!”
“Would the two of you mind to pull us out of here?” Driano asked. “The damn novice pushed us out of the way trying to escape the dragon that flew out of there. We heard some men come through and threaten him. For his sake, I hope they got him.”
Jor laughed hard, clutching her chest. “He’s alive inside the cave.”
“He’ll wish he wasn’t,” Driano grumbled.
“Enough! Leave the boy alone, or we leave you down there!” Lailoken barked. He’d had it with the older Magus. As far as he was concerned, the Magus could stay there. So far, he’d offered little help on this journey.
Driano glared up at him. “Fine. But he’ll be your problem, not mine.”
Jor left and returned with rope and lowered it down. Driano nudged himself in front of Tozgan, who let the Magus go first. After they’d lifted Tozgan out, they returned to the cave.
“Where’s Darlonn?” Driano asked when they were all situated.
Jor looked down. “He didn’t make it.”
Driano stood and approached her, placing a hand on her shoulder. “I am sorry for your loss. He was a good man and a great companion.”
“His death was not in vain. We did get what we came for,” Lailoken said, producing the Blood Stone from an inside pocket.
Driano’s eyes widened and he approached carefully. “It does exit,” he said quietly. “I can feel the power within. It’s real.” He reached out and touched it, closing his eyes and breathing in deep. “By Menos, it’s amazing. The terror, the power, the—” he opened his eyes and snatched his hand away.
“What is it?” Jor asked.
“It’s evil. I felt…evil. It was like something black threatened to consume me. It wanted to destroy me. I can’t fully explain it other than that it’s evil. This is not right.”
Lailoken watched as the blue glow inside suddenly dashed back and forth.
“It’s alive,” Driano said, shrinking away from the gem. “We cannot. We mustn’t.”
“What are you saying?” Lailoken asked, but he knew what scared the Magus.
“We cannot give this to Myrthyd. It’s not meant for man to have.”
Lailoken nodded. He felt the same way. He couldn’t explain it, but he understood Driano’s reservations. Still, they couldn’t leave it. They had to find a way to destroy it. His friend died so they’d get it, and he wasn’t about to toss it away.
In the morning, they gathered their things and left the cavern for the long trip back to Woodpine and then to Kulketh. As they were leaving, Lailoken and Jor stopped at the cavern’s entrance and turned back, Dragonfire Peak looming high above them.
“Goodbye, my friend. ‘Til we meet again,” Lailoken said. Jor closed her eyes and nodded, then turned back to the rest of the group.
Their hunt was near the end.
CHAPTER
Thirty-Two
The last message Myrthyd received from Gregor’s snowdove was promising. He mentioned they found the cave, though the slayers had yet to show. They were lying in wait until they arrived.
That was two weeks ago.
There should have been another message by now and that worried him.
The men should have disposed of that wretched Driano and his novice, and if they had any sense, the slayers also.
His patience wore thin. The call of the Blood Stone was powerful. He felt like he understood the spell now and unleashing the Nightwraith was all he thought about.
Alushia must be a halfling. There’s no other explanation, he thought. Her dark dreams. The feeling he had when he was near her that screamed she was different. It was similar to when he executed halflings. When they were on the platform, he sensed their uneasiness and their dread. It was a bond he couldn’t describe. Instead of accusing Alushia of his suspicions, he kept his concerns to himself. She’ll be useful to me yet.
He sat in his chair in the Great Hall taking visitors from all over Kulketh. The recent drought on top of the previous year’s drought was causing chaos amongst the people. The Drakku menace was allowed to live for far too long, and this was their punishment. The Drakku would be dealt with. Halflings would be eliminated and used for his glory. It crushed him to listen to story after story of families without food having to make difficult choices about their lives. More than once he heard about Garnet dragons torching farms and homes.
“Kull Naga, what is your decision in this matter?” It was Magus Renfro, a wiry man twice Myrthyd’s age yet still with a full head of hair. He was an enjoyable man and a great drinking companion.
“What? The question again?’ Myrthyd asked.
“Neron the steward of Opren to the north requests fifty bushels of wheat for his community. With the recent burning of their fields—”
“Fine. Give him what he asks.”
“Thank you, sir,” Neron said. The man backed away, bowing as he left.
As the day wore on and his attention drifted further, Myrthyd dismissed the remaining petitioners. “Renfro, tell them to come back in a week. I’m done here.”
“Yes sir,” the Magus said and did as he was told. Those in line grumbled and complained, but Myrthyd’s mind was elsewhere. He made a decision earlier in the day that he had to carry out.
He was going to the Dragonback Mountains to get the Blood Stone himself. At the very least, he’d intercept either Driano and his companions or Gregor and Mortha. He hoped it would be the two hired men, as they’d be easier to kill and dispose of. The others would be much more difficult to eliminate, but he would do so.
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