Blademage Adept (The Blademage Saga Book 3) (22 page)

“Watch where you’re slinging that!” Carlo grouched, stooping to recover his shield. “Why are you…?”

“The Riders have arrived, and are helping the others hunt the few that remain above,” Jacek explained.

“Then we finish this,” Kevon nodded, motioning for the others to follow him deeper into the cave. He froze as the still form of the fallen chimaera mewled yet again. “Wait… That’s not…”

The four crept toward the sound, keeping tight against the wall to the right. Anneliese slid away from the others, bow drawn, for a better angle. She prodded the fallen chimaera with a foot as she passed it, then returned her full attention to the unknown around the bend that lay ahead.

Carlo stopped as they reached a point where the passage narrowed again, signaling Jacek to move the light forward.

“It’s stopped,” Kevon observed as the light spilled around the corner, out of sight.

“There!” Anneliese held the drawn arrow at the corner of her mouth, sidestepping to get a better view of the motion ahead.

The chimaera leapt around the corner, hissing. It stumbled, somersaulted three times, and landed on its back, oversized paws and hooves lashing out at random angles.

Anneliese relaxed to a half-draw. Three more chimaera cubs romped into the light, tackling and biting the first, slapping at each other with spike-less tails.

“This is it,” Carlo announced, moving forward, to peer around the corner where the cubs had come from. “The nest, more eggs. A lot more.”

One of the cubs sank his fangs into Carlo’s trouser-leg, shaking it from side to side as furiously as it could manage.

“We can’t allow them to grow up,” Carlo shrugged, raising his sword. “No more than we can allow these eggs to hatch.”

“Wait,” Anneliese countered. “The clans may have use for captured young. Training griffin not to panic at their scent. Harvesting venom when they are older.”

“We’ll leave it to them, then.” Carlo agreed. “Jacek, want to take care of the eggs?” The Blademaster sheathed his sword, slung his shield, and scooped up a cub in each arm.

Kevon put away his weapon, and gathered the other two cubs as Jacek unleashed a torrent of flames into the nest, destroying the remaining piles of eggs in a matter of seconds. The fumes burned Kevon’s eyes, and he lurched toward the exit, his charges squirming and kicking as he went.

Leaving the Mage-light provided by Jacek, half-blinded by the smoke, Kevon tripped over a stone formation jutting out from the floor. He fell forward, dropping the cubs, landing palms down in a sandy depression. As he pushed himself upward, his hand slipped, uncovering a smooth curve of stone buried near the obstacle he’d tripped over. In the dim haze, he could not see the stone clearly, but he pushed more sand away. His fingers brushed against the cool surfaces, encountering a chip or a crack here and there. One of the cubs mewled, pawing at the sand beside him.

Kevon reached a fragmented end of the object he’d begun to uncover, narrowly avoiding cutting himself on the sharp edge of the stone. He pushed more sand away, revealing the end to be just wider than an outstretched hand, and nearly half as thick.

“What have you got there?” Jacek asked, shifting the light closer. He scratched the ears of the other cub Kevon had dropped, quieting the squirming chimaera he held in his arms.

“I’m not sure. I…” Kevon’s words slid away as his hand touched the carved sigil and the twisted image of the Dark rune entered his mind. “Another broken portal?” His eyes moved to the object he’d tripped over, a smooth formation rising from the floor, broken off inches above it. “There.” Kevon pointed to a dirt mound three feet further away. “What’s under that?”

Carlo kicked at the mound, uncovering a similar fractured protrusion. “Your Mage friend was busy, wasn’t he? Before you killed him?”

“This portal must have been broken years ago, for the pieces to be buried this deep.” Kevon stood, brushing himself off before collecting the cub who was still digging at his feet. “Gurlin, Holten, any of their brotherhood may have done this. There are no orcs or imps here, though. What was the purpose?”

“It’s broken, anyhow. Let’s just get out of here.” Carlo led the way out of the cave, bouncing as he walked to entertain the cubs curled under each arm.

“We’d suspected this to be a breeding pit,” Ashera nodded at Carlo as he emerged from the tunnel and surrounding mound of stones. “It’s a rarity to have the forces to spare on offense.”

“The nest has been destroyed,” Carlo assured her. “We found something else, something we’ve seen before, a cause for great concern.”

“Grave enough that all your leaders should know,” Kevon added, shushing the squirming cub in his arms. “Oh. Um. What would you like us to do with these?”

Chapter 37

“Get up.”

Carlo’s muffled order floated into Kevon’s awareness, and he willed himself awake. He nibbled at Alanna’s ear for a moment before untangling himself from her and the blankets. Stretching muscles aching and weary from battle and travel, he stumbled to the hide-flap door of the small wood and stone structure, and accepted the two mugs of warm tea that Carlo offered.

“The leaders of the other tribes are beginning to arrive,” Carlo announced. “The High Council will convene after the midday meal.”

“We’ll take another shift at the wall between breakfast and midday,” Kevon shrugged. “It’ll be mostly talk after that, I assume.”

“Might be,” Carlo grunted. “Decisions here are much like those on the Southern Frontier, I’d imagine. Bad ones cost lives, and quickly. They’ve lived like this a long time. They should know what to do.”

“They snatched up the chimaera cubs quickly enough, flying one to each camp,” Kevon observed. “Relaniel said they were going to raise the males to use as mounts for some of the Striders, and the female will lay eggs for extra food at the camp in the North, where they have trouble growing crops.”

“They waste nothing here,” Carlo nodded. “There’s little to have, much less squander.”

“We’ll eat, and hurry to the wall,” Kevon lowered the leather curtain. “See you at midday.

“Don’t know that I could ever really get used to this,” Kevon rubbed at the sore spot on his ribs where a chimaera had caught him with a hind hoof. Alanna dabbed at the gash on his left forearm with a damp cloth.

“Fortunate there was not venom from this tail strike,” she consoled the bleeding Warsmith.

“No, there was,” Kevon corrected her, blinking widened eyes and steadying himself against the lowered rope ladder that led back up to their watch-post. “If there is another attack before midday, I may have to just work the ladders.” He fumbled at the swaying rungs with fingers that were starting to numb.

“Let’s get you up to safety while you can still climb,” Alanna suggested, pulling at the bottom rung to steady the ladder.

“Go,” Kevon told the fretting Meek that had pulled him up the last few steps to the small semi-enclosed platform atop the walls. “Send back a Strider to replace you.”

The white-robed man nodded, taking a yellow flag from its holder, and waving it so that his counterparts in the neighboring posts could see it. He scanned the landscape outside for a few seconds, and repeated the motions with a light blue colored flag. “You know the colors?”

“Brown, chimaera attack,” Kevon answered, pointing at the first flag in the sequence. He moved down the order. “Red, serious injury. Yellow, Striders returned safely. Light blue, no visible threats. Dark blue, activity out beyond the perimeter. White, Riders inbound.” He paused. “I haven’t seen black used.”

“No one has died since you arrived,” the man smiled. “Pray we will not have to use it.”

Kevon slumped onto the low bench near the doorway as the Meek exited to find a replacement. “I should have had him bring back some tea.”

“You’re not a Strider,” Alanna chastised. “The tea helps you get used to the venom. It’s not a good idea to add more when you’ve just been injured.”

“I forgot…” Kevon yawned. “You’re good with poisons, right?”

“Better than I’d like to remember.” Her icy glare was wasted on Kevon’s heavy-lidded, vacant gaze. “Are you sure you’re all right to finish the shift? It’s only another hour, I’m sure one of the Meek would come watch for you. Elster would come back, certainly.”

“S’only an hour,” Kevon agreed, thick-feeling lips slurring his response. “M’okay to watch.”

Alanna shook her head and moved to the outer railing of the watch-post. After several minutes of catching no variation in the wind-blown grasses around the crop plots and the surrounding cleared area, she returned to sit by Kevon.

“Feeling any better?”

“Mmmblmm…” he mumbled, pinching his tongue.

Alanna snapped her fingers in front of Kevon’s face rapidly, and he wobbled in his seat. “Yeah. That’s helpful.”

“What’s wrong with him?” Rowyn asked, walking up the stairs into the watch-post.

“Stubborn,” Alanna sighed. “Will you be all right here for a few minutes until I get him some help?”

Rowyn surveyed the landscape for a few seconds, scanned the other posts for waving flags. “Of course,” he smiled. “Send Elster and Semal.”

“Thanks,” Alanna said, helping Kevon to his feet. “See you at the Council gathering.”

“S’yoo!” Kevon waved at the Strider with his right hand, using the arm Alanna did not have draped over her shoulders to support him.

“Chimaeraddled,” the Meek in the medical tent remarked as soon as he saw Alanna dragging Kevon through the door-flap. “Water,” she directed her young assistant. “Lots of it.”

“Chimaer…”

“Chimaeraddled,” the Meek repeated. “Far too much venom. He’s used to it enough that it doesn’t paralyze him completely, but it’s still a problem. Water will push it out of him. Let’s see to that arm, though.”

The wound was slicked with salve, covered with leaves, and wrapped and tied with cloth by the time the young helper returned with a pitcher of water. The Meek helped Alanna steer Kevon to another bench to one side of the tent, and handed her a carved wooden cup.

“Get as much of this down him as you can,” she advised, taking the pitcher from her assistant and setting it on the bench beside Kevon. “He’ll be fine in an hour or so.”

“We discovered something while destroying the chimaera nest to the east,” Carlo addressed the gathered heads of the four tribes. “Something disturbing. Something only some of us have seen before, and only once. The remains of a portal, a broken gateway that leads to and from a realm of darkness.”

The Elders conferred amongst themselves, and Ashera spoke.

“What harm can these gateways visit upon us?”

“In previous cases, permanent gates have let orcs, imps, and other demons into our Realm,” Carlo answered. “Temporary ones have done much worse.”

“We have seen no such evidence of these threats on the Highplain,” the Claw of one of the other tribes rebutted.

“Have you not?” Relaniel stood. “Chimaera are twisted enough to be creations of L’mort. They do not cling to the darkness as many of his others, but could be born there. Are the numbers that have risen against your people in recent years natural?”

“The tide that rose against us two generations ago…” the Claw answered, “Was anything but natural. Many lives were lost, and it took the cooperation of all five tribes to construct the garrison walls that protect the lower lands from the dangers we face daily.”

“Evil Magi,” Kevon began, taking measured breaths between sentences. “Magi that we knew were on Purlon, to the west. We suspect they were near Alcron, far to the north. Now we know they were here.”

“What are we to do with this knowledge?” Ashera asked.

“The portal arch we discovered had been destroyed, on accident, or on purpose, years ago.” Kevon stood straighter, shaking off the last of the venom-haze. “We sealed that nest, it will not be a safe haven for chimaera any longer. But there may be others.”

“Nesting sites seem a likely place for there to be portals,” Carlo continued. “The objective our group seeks lies near the western edge of your territory. When ready, we will march toward it, emptying nests, searching for portals as we go. Any support you can lend is appreciated. The fewer chimaera there are to hinder us at our goal, the better.”

The Elders whispered furiously for minutes.

“Enough.” Ashera growled. “I’ll just ask them.”

“Ask us what?” Yusa wondered aloud, as Reko paced at the edge of the firelight.

“Two of the nests on your path are very near the remains of Seacliff Camp. If there is any chance of retaking it…”

“We’ll need your help, but we will make the attempt.” Anneliese stopped Carlo’s response before it left his mouth, a sharp glare silencing the Blademaster. “Saving the Realm is no use if we allow parts of it to be destroyed while we pass by.”

“I was going to say…” Carlo stared at the Huntmistress, “That a recovered Seacliff Camp would be a better base of operations than this, once we near the Seat.”

Murmurs of agreement ran through the gathered elders, spilling into the others assembled around the meeting-place.

“You will have the help you need,” Ashera announced as the Council settled into silence. “Every spare Rider, and the fastest of the Striders will gather here within five days.”

Chapter 38

“Hold on tighter!” Carlo suggested.

“Grip with your legs!” Ashera shouted, “Relax your arms some. Don’t suffocate him!”

“I’ve got it! I…” The child’s triumphant cry stopped short as his grey-feathered mount banked near the top of the enclosure, kicked at the nearest crosspiece, and launched itself back toward the straw-littered ground.

“Not a…”

Folding one wing back, sweeping the other in a powerful downbeat that rolled it completely over, the akembi freed itself from its unwelcome passenger. Snapping the folded wing back to full extension, it skimmed the outer edge of the cage, making two passes before landing near the heap of rider in the center of the straw-padded arena.

“Again,” the boy finished, as his rogue steed snuffled at the bits of dried apple stuffed deep into his pockets. “No!” he admonished. “You have to let me…”