Book of One 04: A Child of Fire (8 page)

"Thank you, Dakar, for your trust," Calexis said, pondering what he had told her. "We are not allies, perhaps we have a common cause."

Dakar's eyes returned to their natural state, still dark but without the inky shimmer of power, as the door of the chamber opened and Cerric entered the room.

"Dakar," he said and the mage stood from his seat. "Conspiring with my lady wife, I see."

"Your highness," Dakar said with a deep bow. "Your soldiers informed me that you were occupied elsewhere and her highness, Queen Calexis has been gracious enough to entertain me with stories of the battle and your victory over the dragon king. I regret that I was not here to share in your triumph."

"It was but one of many battles to come," Cerric said. "Did your search through the mages' library uncover anything useful?"

"No," Dakar said. "As I am sure you already know, I had hoped to learn what it was you were searching for when you emptied the armories of Maramyr. I presume you seek some kind of weapon from the past."

"Very good." Cerric nodded. "You presumed correctly, though it no longer matters. I have found what I sought." He put his hand on the hilt of the sword that hung from his waist and slowly drew the blade from its scabbard. "This is a godsword, Dakar, a weapon from the second age. Do you know what a godsword is?"

"I do not," Dakar replied. "Though I would imagine from the name it is the sword of a god."

"That is exactly what it is and I have discovered its purpose. Were I to strike you with it, and if I so desired, this blade would take your power and give it to me, and not just your energy, but the very essence of your abilities."

"A dangerous weapon in the wrong hands," Dakar commented.

"Yes, very much so," Cerric agreed. "I can see why they remained hidden for so long. Though I doubt that many would have understood how to use weapons such as these, even if someone were to possess one."

"There is some magic to their use, then?" Dakar asked, curiously.

"Of a sort, yes. I had to kill several dozen soldiers and a few elves to learn the trick, though I am curious what the effect would be were I to kill a mage with it. Should I test this blade?"

"If you wish, my lord, though I would prefer that you might find someone other than myself for the task."

"I do not doubt that." Cerric laughed and slid his sword back into its scabbard then he walked over to a nearby table and poured himself a cup of wine. "I have decided to hold a celebration and a tournament at Maramyr. You and Berant will make the arrangements. We will find the greatest fighters in the land and the victors shall become my warriors, to lead my army in the war against the elves."

"The forests of Elvanar are well guarded, my lord," Dakar said. "The elves have powerful magic as well."

"That is why we must create warriors strong enough to defeat them," Cerric said. "With the power of these godswords, the elves will be little more than fodder for our army."

"When do we return to Maramyr, husband?" Calexis asked.

"I have made Mirdel the Steward of Kandara, so tonight we will feast our victory and toast the duke's good fortune then we will leave for Maramyr on the morrow. It will be a hard ride, for I wish to waste little time returning. The sooner we hold the tournament, the sooner we can resume our campaign." Cerric seemed very pleased with himself. "Calexis, see to the feast. Dakar, you will accompany me. I wish to torture the young Akandar some more, and your assistance might prove useful."

"Yes, my lord," Dakar said.

"Does my husband plan to spend the night drinking and feasting?" Calexis asked, boldly. "I had hoped we might have some time to celebrate together."

"There will be plenty of time for that once we have returned to Maramyr," Cerric told her then he turned to the mage priest. "Come, the son of the dragon awaits."

Dakar followed the god-king out of the room, leaving Calexis behind. She was frustrated that Cerric had once again rebuffed her attempt to get him to bed. By the time they reached Maramyr, the opportunity to get with child would have passed and the hard ride over the mountain pass would make it that much more difficult. Calexis knew it was becoming less likely that her plan would succeed but she thought about what Dakar had told her and wondered about the dagger she had found. If she could learn the trick of it, perhaps she too could become powerful, though the thought of challenging Cerric was extremely daunting. If what Dakar had said was true, then perhaps she might at least become his equal.

*****

Draxis walked from the trees toward the Darga encampment with the giant axe resting on his shoulder. The group of warriors looked to number around a hundred strong and Draxis wondered that they had broken away from the main force, though it was not unexpected that they would have fallen into disarray when their leader was defeated on the battlefield. The Darga saw him coming and several of them walked out to greet him.

"Draxis," said one of the warriors, a Darga with dark black scales over dark green skin. He looked somewhat familiar. "The dragon did not kill you."

"No," Draxis said. "I am not that easy to kill. What is your name, warrior?"

"Kelak," he said, then he gestured to the two other Darga with him, one a brownish green female and the other a male, who looked younger and, from his coloring, a mix of the other two. "This is Tanak, my mate, and our son Konak."

"What clan are you?" Draxis asked.

"Brown clan, but not now. We start our own clan. Dragon clan."

"Dragon clan?"

"Yes," Kelak hissed. "We will raid the battlefield and take the body of the dragon and feast upon it. It will make us strong."

"You want to eat the dragon?" Draxis knew about the Darga belief that eating the heart of a fallen enemy would give a warrior the strength of the vanquished foe. It was an old tradition, a ritual he had been told that the Darga had not practiced for many generations, since it did not actually accomplish anything except prompting further bloodshed and grudges between the clans. "The dragon is dead, and he was defeated by Cerric."

"And he leaves the body to waste," Kelak said. "We would feast upon it and gain much strength."

"No, Kelak," Draxis said. "You will not gain any strength except that which you gain from a belly full of meat."

"We must become stronger," Konak said. "There are challenges to lead the clans."

"Are there?" Draxis asked rhetorically. "The clans have a leader."

"A leader must not be defeated," Tanak said. "Draxis was defeated by the dragon. We will take the power of the dragon and then we will be stronger than Draxis."

"Is that so?" Draxis asked. "You can eat all the dragon hearts and gnaw on all the dragon bones you want, and you will never be stronger than me."

Draxis swung the axe down from his shoulder and rested the head of the weapon on the ground and leaned his hand on the large green jewel embedded in the end of its shaft. It was hardly a defensive pose and the Darga could sense his confidence, while Draxis could clearly see their unease at encountering the half-Darga prince, who had killed the leaders of the black and brown tribes, becoming their leader. The rest of the Darga began to filter out of the camp, joining the three who faced Draxis, most out of curiosity and some in solidarity with their new clan.

"Draxis is not Darga," Kelak said. "Draxis is half-blood, raised by the human queen and her mage priests. Draxis does not know the stories, the old ways."

"Oh?" Draxis was irritated by the defiance in Kelak's voice, but he was curious about what he might not have been told by the mages. "What are these old ways?"

Kelak snorted and glanced at the other Darga, who had gathered around.

"Darga were dragonkind," he said. "Darga were cast out by the others, our power taken, our bodies made small and weak. Darga were cursed, made to think small thoughts, to not fly, to die young, but Darga remember."

"What do you remember, Darga?"

"Stories of power, of fire and sky. Old ways give great power to the strong, power of dragons."

"And if you eat the dragon, you will get your power back," Draxis said, his tone deadpan with skepticism. "You are foolish Darga. That dragon is nothing more than a corpse, and the other creature, the duke is the same. I took his head myself and when he died, he died like anything else. His blood spilled and his breath stopped."

"Draxis did not eat the heart. Draxis did not gain the power," Kelak said. "Who is foolish?"

"I wish I could have the power of the duke," Draxis said. "He was a powerful foe, as powerful as all of you, and I killed him just the same." Draxis felt something under his hand and he lifted it off the green gem and he saw some kind of energy swirling around inside it. It distracted him from his growing anger at Kelak's insolence, but his instincts brought his attention back as he sensed a growing aggression from among the force of Darga warriors who now stood before him.

"Draxis is powerful," Kelak said, his eyes betraying his hunger. "Draxis' heart would make Darga powerful."

"Now you want to eat me instead?" Draxis laughed. "If eating the heart of a foe would make you more powerful, don't you think the Darga would have done this? How many years, how many generations have the Darga lived in the swamps and the forests to the east, with no greater power than the generations before them? And don't you think that I wouldn't eat every single one of your hearts if doing such a thing would gain me more power?"

The Darga stepped back uneasily, sensing the threat in his voice. Draxis felt the gem under his hand begin to hum slightly and he wondered if Boric's weapon might have some kind of enchantment to it.

"Kill many Darga or kill one dragon," Kelak responded. "Or kill Draxis first, then eat the dragon."

Draxis hefted the axe into his hands. It was heavy, and though he was not as strong as Boric, he could still swing it easily.

"I should assume that you no longer consider me your leader," Draxis said. "If you really want to eat my heart, then I dare you to try."

"Draxis cannot kill every Darga," Kelak said, holding out his claws and stepping toward him.

"You don't think so? I would kill a thousand Darga if it would make me as powerful as a dragon," Draxis said then he dashed toward Kelak.

With a powerful swing of the great axe, he cut the Darga in two. Surprised at how easily the blade cleaved through Kelak's armored skin, Draxis did not notice the shaft of the weapon as it began to vibrate. He continued his swing and smashed it into the side of another Darga then used the heavy axe as a counterweight to swing himself around two more Darga who leapt at him. The axe hummed with energy as the second Darga died and Draxis felt the weapon grow warm in his hands. Draxis leapt backward as several clawed hands slashed at him and he swung the axe again, killing several more of the creatures in one stroke. The Darga tried to surround him, to overpower him, but he swung the weapon in a wide arc, keeping them at bay. Surprisingly, with every swing, the axe felt lighter, though Draxis quickly realized that it was not the weapon that was changing, it was he, who was becoming stronger. With his Darga sight, he could see energy running down the length of the axe and into the jewel at the end of its shaft. He could feel the energy flowing into him and he could feel himself becoming stronger with every Darga he killed.

Draxis realized that there must be some kind of magic in Boric's axe, some power that did exactly what the Darga warriors had hoped to do by eating his heart. He laughed as he cut through their numbers, mercilessly rending them limb from limb and bathing in the blood that turned the ground to mud beneath their dying bodies. It was not long before Draxis found himself standing alone in a sea of reptilian flesh and blood, having killed every single one of the upstart Darga clan. Even though he had gained so much strength and speed, he was still winded from the effort of killing so many, but his breath returned quickly and with a powerful swing of the axe, he flung the blood off the weapon then rested it back on his shoulder and continued onward, walking through the empty camp and into the forest on the far side, wondering where he might find stronger foes, whose power he could make his own.

"I cannot fathom this Maramyrian penchant for prudery," Toren said with a mischievous grin. He gulped the last of the ale from his mug and slammed it on the great, wooden table then pointed at the empty vessel and a serving boy ran forward to refill it. Wiping the foam from his beard, Toren turned in his chair to take a better look at the man who sat next to him in the seat of honor.

Carlis had grown enough of a beard that he had finally been invited to dine in the palace hall, but it appeared that the Maramyrian merchant, who was now the captain of a missing ship, which was a matter of no small embarrassment, was still having a difficult time finding his rhythm upon the waves of Aghlar society. And Toren was not making it easier for him either for he had taken to teasing Carlis much the way an older brother might torment a sibling. Carlis was determined not to let the sailor king get the better of him, although with the Aghlar tendency to make a toast and drink to just about everything, the effects of the large amount of ale he had consumed was making it that much more difficult for him to maintain his composure.

"There are certain things that are not done at Maramyr, if one is of the noble sort," Carlis said.

Toren snorted but held back a laugh and he saw that the serving boy had refilled his mug, so he drank some ale to drown his mirth for a moment, while he pondered his best angle of approach.

"You are a trading man, yes?"

"I am," Carlis said. "What of it?"

"What things have you traded?"

"All manner of things. Cloth, weapons, foodstuffs, even land; I have bought and sold many things." Carlis was not sure what the Aghlar was getting at.

"The cloth," Toren said. "What manner of cloth have you dealt in? Hemp or cotton for sails and shirts or the silks of the worms for finer things like a lady's fine tunic or her much finer undergarments?"

"All of these and more," Cerric said, shaking his head at the Aghlar king's suggestiveness. "I once invested some gold in a clothworks that makes many different kinds of material." Truth be told, he had made a small fortune in the cloth business, and it was through that enterprise many years ago that he had become closer to Lady Valamyr, who employed many of the tailors of Maramyr. Their partnership had been a very profitable one for them both.

"And when you invest your gold in these things, do you not keep an eye to quality?" Toren asked.

"Of course," Carlis told him. "Every cloth must be of a quality to suit its intended purpose. A sail must be strong to hold the power of the wind, while a noble lady's garment must be fine so as not to offend her delicate skin."

Toren drank more of his ale to choke down another laugh, and he noticed many of the men and women seated at the great table doing the same.

"This fine cloth, when it is made, do you inspect its quality? Do you touch it? Do you feel it, to see how fine it might feel against delicate skin?"

"I suppose, yes," Carlis said, though he was fairly certain where Toren was going with the conversation. He glanced over at Elaine, who sat silently on the others side of him, her face almost expressionless. Carlis nervously took another drink, worried that he would either offend her, or Toren, or both, though he was beginning to worry less about the latter of the two.

"And what of the sailcloth?" Toren asked, seeming to change tack. "Do you tug on it and handle it as would the firm hands of a sailor to see if it can hold up to some rough use?"

Carlis felt his eyes rolling back in his head, partly from the ale, which was quickly affecting him even more, and partly from the knowledge that Toren was back on course to shipwreck him in front of the assembled guests. All he could do at this point was to agree with the man, and hope that he survived the conversation.

"Yes, of course," Carlis said.

"And you would do this before you accepted the hard earned gold of those you bargain with? That would be the right thing to do, yes? You would not want an angry captain coming back with his sword drawn and looking to cut you because you gave him a bad sail."

"No, I would not want that. I have always made sure that my affairs are conducted with the utmost honor and courtesy, and always with an eye for quality."

"I do not doubt that. It would be most sensible to make sure of every detail," Toren agreed and Carlis nodded. "But it makes little sense to me that you would make such effort over a piece of cloth, to touch it, to pull on it, to caress it, and yet you would not do the same with a woman."

"One does not wear a woman like a piece of clothing," Carlis said.

"Not quite, but if the cloth isn't right, you'd best know it before you set sail," Toren said. He turned to Elaine. "Lady Elaine, indulge me. Are you of the same mind as Captain Carlis? Would you not want to check the mast of the ship to see if it can take a hard wind?"

"Toren." Elaine looked over at him. "You know better than to try to draw me into such talk."

"Right," he said and turned to Carlis and lowered his voice to almost a whisper. "Captain, since it's obvious to just about everyone that you're completely besotted with the lady who sits beside you, I'll let you in on a little secret. She's like silk, smooth and fine and strong as any ship and methinks she's built for rougher seas."

Carlis stood up, lurching from his seat, and the heavy wooden chair slid hard against the stone floor of the hall. The way Toren described Elaine, not only conjured up images of what he had long wondered, but it suggested that Toren himself had first hand knowledge of the lady and that was too much for Carlis to handle. The room tilted and swayed as he tried to keep his feet and he managed to bite back the angry words that threatened to spill from his mouth. As offended as he was, Carlis was still a guest in the hall of a king, though at this point, he truly wished he were somewhere and anywhere else would do.

"If you will excuse me," Carlis said, his words now running together as the ale began to make his thoughts swim. "I thank you for your hospitality, King Toren, and I bid you a good evening. Lady Valamyr, will you accompany me or do you wish to remain?"

"I will be along shortly, Captain," Elaine said.

"Right," Carlis said then he stumbled his way past the many chairs and guests and made his way from the king's table toward the exit of the hall.

"That was not very kind of you, Toren," Elaine told the Aghlar king. "Carlis is a most honorable man."

"I know," Toren said, watching him leave. "Everything I have learned of him speaks well of his character, but I could not resist the chance to have a little sport with him. It was especially amusing to see him struggle from the effects of the strong brew he has been drinking."

"You are incorrigible as ever," Elaine said. "It is no wonder you do not yet have a wife."

"I'll not change my ways, Elaine. If a woman will take me as I am, then so it will be. If not, then so be it."

"You should have married my sister," Elaine said.

"That is one of my regrets," Toren told her. "I would have wedded her, you know, but Elara refused."

"It is no wonder, with the way you carry on."

"She refused because she knew she would not long be of this world," Toren said, the mirth fading completely from his face. "Elara told me that, just before she died. She refused me to spare me."

"How could she have known she would die? How can anyone know such a thing?"

"She knew many things," Toren said. "I did not question her, I merely accepted her word. I loved her dearly, and part of me wishes she had let our luck run its course, while another is grateful to her for what she did. I do not think I would be smiling and joking here if we had become any closer than she allowed us to be."

"At least you still have Ehlena."

"Aye, now that's a truth, and the girl is a constant trouble though I suppose I'm to blame for a little of that," Toren said thoughtfully then he looked at Elaine. "The days are always too short and tomorrow may never come. We might set sail with fair winds on pleasant seas only to meet our end in a sudden storm. Such is the way of things and, looking back, the wasted days are the ones that make the heart hurt."

Elaine searched the eyes of the Aghlar king and she knew that he felt the loss of her sister and his half-brother Matthius, who was a kind of godfather to Ehlena and who had been killed while escorting her to Maramyr. Elaine could see the regret in Toren's face and her opinion of him changed somewhat. Though he carried on like a buffoon much of the time and his sense of humor left much to be desired, she knew his heart was true. It was something she had always known, though she had never wanted to admit it. Elaine pondered what he had said and she thought about Carlis, stumbling his way to the inn where they had taken up residence after Ehlena had taken the ship. She worried about her niece, and hoped she would return safely from wherever she had gone, but for now, she worried more about Carlis.

Elaine knew enough about Aghlar spirits and their many ales to know that the amount of strong brew Carlis had consumed would surely put him in a sorry state and she decided that she should go and find him before he embarrassed himself. The Aghlar people prided themselves on their ability to drink and still function, but even they did not venture far from their beds when drinking sweet water or strong brew. As far as Elaine was concerned, Carlis was twice the man that Toren was, and it would not do for Carlis to be looked down upon simply because of an Aghlar prank.

"While I disapprove of the little game you played with Carlis, and I very much disapprove of being compared to a piece of sail cloth, I am glad to know that you cared about my sister and that you care about your daughter. I still think you are uncouth and a ruffian who happens to wear a crown, but you have my thanks for telling me about Elara. I respect her even more now and I dislike you a little less."

Toren stared at her for a moment. A smile slowly spread across his face and, a moment later, Elaine felt his large muscular arms around her, in a powerful embrace that made her think of what it might feel like to be hugged by a bear. Toren let her go and laughed as he picked up his mug from the table and held it up to her.

"That is as close to a compliment as I have ever had from you, Elaine," he said. "I will gladly drink to that."

Elaine smiled and picked up her cup of wine, which was almost empty. She stood from her seat, held it up to the Aghlar king then finished the last mouthful.

"I will leave you to your feast," she told him as she put the cup down on the wood of the table. "I do not believe that Carlis has every tasted strong brew before, and we both know what can happen when people from Maramyr get into trouble with Aghlar spirits."

"A recipe for adventure, that," Toren said as Elaine gave him a polite nod and walked away. "Give my regards to Carlis."

Carlis stormed down the passage from the palace banquet hall, his cheeks red with anger and frustration. So flustered was he by the Aghlar king's lack of manners that he almost did not recognize Ehlena when she appeared in the long corridor before him. A living picture of serenity, the young girl appeared to be as calm as Carlis was upset, which flustered him even more. She stared at him with a look of bemusement then she smiled.

"Carlis," Ehlena said. "You seem upset."

"That man," Carlis began angrily then he took a deep breath and cleared his throat. "King Toren has a particular sense of humor that I cannot abide. I can see why your aunt dreaded the idea of coming to Aghlar, and I do not know how she is able to tolerate the disrespectful way people carry on."

"Carlis, it is good to see you too."

He stared at her then realized that she had returned from whatever fool journey she had taken, with his ship no less.

"Ehlena, I am relieved to see you safe and sound. We are going to have a little talk about you taking my ship, but I cannot seem to think straight after drinking that damn Aghlar ale."

Ehlena saw her aunt walking down the hall toward them.

"Aunt Elaine," she said, smiling at her, though she did not return the greeting.

"Ehlena," she said. "You gave everyone quite a fright disappearing with the Al-Andor While I am pleased to see you are safe, there are some things we will most certainly discuss, young lady."

"Aunt Elaine, Carlis," Ehlena turned and gestured to the grey robed mage who had stood quietly off to her side, unnoticed. "This is Stavros, he is the former head of the Council of Mages."

Carlis looked at the bearded mage more closely through his increasingly blurring vision and his eyes widened in recognition.

"Stavros?"

"Carlis," the mage said with a slight smile. "The last time I saw you, you were a fresh faced young magistrate in King Gregor's court." Stavros turned to Elaine. "Lady Valamyr, we have never met, but I am honored to greet a member of the five royal lines of Maramyr. As ever, it is my pleasure to serve those loyal to the kingdom, especially in these difficult times."

"You are not one of those black robed priests then?" Carlis said, his expression skeptical and his voice beginning to slur.

"No," Stavros replied. "I serve the Lady, and the ideals of the Council of Mages."

"Stavros," Elaine said. "I have heard of you. It is said you disappeared after the death of King Gregor and Queen Aria." She had also heard rumors among the nobility that the mage was somehow involved in what happened, though she was beginning to question such stories as Cerric was their likely source.