Dragon's Tongue (The Demon Bound) (55 page)

“It’s all right,” Shona said, her grasp tightening. “I’m still here.”

Alaric sighed. “Tell me,” he said. “Why are you afraid of bees?”

“It happened when I was five,” Shona said. All I wanted to do was fetch more honey for my oatmeal, and I honestly thought bees just gave honey to you the same way cows give milk…”

She spoke on. Alaric closed his eyes, letting the cadence of her voice and the strength of her hand guided him along the path he could not see.

He realized then just how much he trusted her.

~

“What drivel,”
Tane whispered to Vagner’s mind.
“All this talk of bees and farming is boring me.”

The demon said nothing. Even Vagner’s eyes could not see in this strange dark and the conversation was offering him a means of guiding himself. Furthermore, the magic that wrought it stung like tiny bees. He wondered if Tane could feel the same sensations. He hoped so. He still wasn’t certain why Tane had not noticed when Ronan commanded the demon to stop Alaric. But then, all this strange magic felt as though it was connected to the bard’s spirit in some familiar way.

“When I have the Dragon’s Tongue, the first thing I will do is order you to bite off that silly young woman’s head,”
Tane continued.

“What if I don’t want to?”
Vagner thought.

“What?”

“I rather like Shona,”
the demon said.

“You like her?”
Tane’s thought were rife with mocking humor.
“And I suppose you think she has a certain fondness for you as well?”

“We are friends,”
the demon replied.
“She has been kind to me.
They all have, except for Fenelon.
Now, his head, I would bite off tiny little pieces at a time if it pleased you…”

“It would indeed,”
Tane said.

“But it would not please Alaric,”
the demon added.

Tane sighed.
“I do not see the point in this conversation.
If I order you to bite off her head, you will do it…”

“And if Alaric orders otherwise?”
Vagner wore a secret grin.
“After all, I am bound to him as well…”

“I will deal with him when the time comes, you impudent monster!”
Tane snarled.
“Now hurry.
This dark is making me itch.
Damn the magic in this place.
It burns like nettles.
You’re supposed to protect me…”

“It burns me as well,”
Vagner said.
“I cannot protect you from the pain when I cannot protect myself…”

“Then hurry,”
Tane ordered.
“The sooner we reach the Dragon’s Tongue, the better.”

Vagner said nothing. He stumbled through the dark, taking his time, and satisfied in the knowledge it hurt Tane as much as it hurt the demon.

There were some rewards in pain.

FIFTY EIGHT

Fenelon was enjoying this madness much more than Etienne thought wise of him. He started out flying straight at the waterfall, but then one of the battlemages managed to cut across his path and forced him to veer like a hawk. Etienne chose to go higher instead, which turned out to be a better move than she expected. For one thing it gave her ample opportunity to see just where Turlough and the platform were.

Closer than she expected, it turned out. No more than a few hundred cubits. Turlough clung to the rail with his beard flying back into his face. Demented terror was visible in the bulge of his eyes and the baring of his teeth. Yet he encouraged the navigator to go faster. The mages who were unable to leave the platform were looking rather green and uneasy. Even the navigator looked like he might be having misgivings.

This is not good,
Etienne thought glumly. Fenelon dodged a second battlemage just as a third flew towards her with a grim expression.
I don’t have Fenelon’s skill at this.
She could fight or she could fly, but she had her doubts that she could do both at the same time.

Flight, then, she decided, and waited just long enough to be assured her own attacker would have to compensate dearly before she flitted out of his path. And it worked for the moment. His momentum in flight carried him well beyond her, giving her plenty of time to take off in another direction.

“This way!” Fenelon shouted.

Etienne looked up in time to see two battlemages closing on him, and one was coming from behind him. And Fenelon seemed intent upon the man who faced him.

“Look out!” she cried.

Just when she thought her warning was too late, Fenelon surged upward, and suddenly, his two attackers met chest to chest in their vain attempt to shift with him. Like a couple of netted crows, they dropped towards the ground.

“No!” Etienne screamed.

Her concern, it turned out, was not necessary. Fenelon shouted,
“Adhar cum,”
and suddenly their descent was stopped. Then he looked towards Etienne and motioned towards the falls.

“Follow me!” he said and took off once more.

Etienne shifted her direction. She glanced at the two men who had nearly fallen to their deaths with a moment of relief, then turned her attention towards her own escape. Fenelon was making a straight path towards the waterfall again, and Etienne wondered just what he had in mind. They were getting close enough that she could feel the wind of the falling water buffeting her.

Fenelon made for one side of the curtain of water. He suddenly disappeared behind the rush. Etienne almost lost her spell as he did. “What?” It took a few moments for her to realize he had found an opening under the falls. She took the same path and felt the damp spray wash over her. Horns, she was apt to freeze if this soaked her. And then what good would it do?

Fenelon was up on a ledge that set back into the cliff for a good ways. Plenty of space to stand, Etienne noted as she landed. “This is your plan?” she asked as she looked at him.

“Use what nature gives you, love,” Fenelon said. “Water is a powerful element. It will keep Turlough from casting fire.”

“As well as our selves,” she reminded him.

“Ah, but you see, Turlough has never been one with water, so to speak. It’s not an element he can readily control.”

“Neither can we in this place,” she said with a frown.

“Wrong,” Fenelon said. “We have Lunari beads now, remember?”

She glanced down towards the entry way. “We’re also about to have company,” she said.

One of the battlemages could be seen just around the end of the falls. He hovered as though debating whether it would be wise to enter unaccompanied, or to practice bravado and go alone. Etienne said a silent prayer he would wait and give her time to gather her own wits. A quick glance told her there was no other escape.

“And this is wonderfully defendable. Observe.” Fenelon touched the beads then stretched his right hand towards the opening and the unassuming guard.

The water of the fall suddenly came alive when it lashed at the battlemage and soaked him. He retreated rather than continue to receive another unwanted bath. Under other circumstances, Etienne might have been mildly amused, but not here. Not now. Besides, a shadow had formed against the opaque wall of water and ice, and Etienne had a feeling Turlough had arrived.

“Attack or defend, love?” Fenelon asked.

“What do you mean?” she said, frowning at him.

“I expect they’ll start rushing us with spells at any moment now, and it would be wiser if one of us plays the aggressor, and one of us defends,” he said, quirking his eyebrows.

“Is this a part of your plan?” she asked testily. “Trapping us here and forcing us to go to war with Turlough and other members of the Mage Council?”

“Well, no,” Fenelon said and brushed back hair that was looking damp. “My real plan was to lose them, but that’s starting to look more difficult than I hoped. So I say we need to be the distraction. As long as Turlough’s pissed off enough to come after us, he’ll be too preoccupied to interfere with whatever Alaric and Ronan are doing.”

What they are doing,
she thought glumly,
is taking on Tane without our assistance.
Not to mention the fact her own apprentice was there. She worried about Alaric, but she admitted only to herself she was worried about Shona more. The lass was intelligent and gifted and fearless, but those talents might prove useless in a confrontation with a bloodmage of Tane’s experience.

Etienne had little time to debate the matter further in her own mind. A shout alerted her to the three battlemages who were surging at the gap as one.

“
Uisge mhor buail
!” she shouted without even thinking. The edge of the waterfall heaved and closed in like a giant backhand, smacking the three and tumbling them away.

“Good shot,” Fenelon said. “So you’re attacking?”

“Defending,” she said stiffly and chose a place on the ledge that gave her ample view of the area behind the width of the fall. “You gain much more pleasure out of battle than I do.”

“Very well,” he said and stretched a hand towards the icicles that formed here and there. “
Isa gath saighead buail
!”

Large shards of ice tore away from the overhang and charged through the waterfall with the ferocity of a crossbow bolt. Outside the roar, she faintly heard a wooden thunk as one struck the platform, and several voices raised panicky cries of warning.

Horns, she would much rather have been down in the heart of this crater helping Alaric and Shona and Vagner just now.

But Fenelon was right in one way, she was reluctant to admit. As long as Turlough was occupied with this battle, Alaric and the others were somewhat safe…

So why didn’t she feel reassured?

~

To Alaric, the dark of the tunnel went on forever, and the hundred cubits Ronan had claimed were starting to feel more like five hundred. Another illusion? If it were not for Shona’s voice, he might turn and flee back to the light.

“…So I never quite got over the fear,” Shona said. “Now, it’s your turn. Sing me a song…”

“A song?” Alaric said. Her hand gently squeezed his as reassurance. “Here…in the dark?”

“Why not?” she asked. “Since when do you need to see to sing?”

Well, she had a point, he begrudgingly admitted, and heard a faint chuckle in his head.
“Come on, Lark, you can sing in the dark…”
Ronan teased.

“Actually, I think a song would be a splendid idea,” Vagner’s disembodied voice echoed.

“So…what shall I sing?” Alaric asked.

“Definitely something cheerful,” Shona said. “I know. Do you know a song called
Gin Ye’ll Be My Lassie
?”

“I don’t think so…”

“
I do
,” Ronan said.

Shut up
! Alaric hissed inwardly.

“Then I’ll teach it to you,” Shona said. And she launched brightly into the cheerful tune without a care. Her voice echoed pleasantly through the dark.

“Gin ye’ll be my lassie,

I’ll let ye milk my kye.

Put yer hand upon the udder,

Stroke it low and stroke it high.

Put yer hand upon the udder.

Hold me pail betwix yer thighs.

Oh, I’ll let ye be my lassie if

Ye promise ta milk my kye…”

Shona sang on, and Alaric was laughing out loud before he could stop himself. The song hinted at a certain raunchy behavior that turned out to be an innocent, misunderstood proposal. “Where did you learn that?” he asked when he could finally draw a breath. The demon’s laughter filled the dark as well.

“My father taught it to my brothers,” Shona said, “and they could never resist bawling it at the top of their lungs while milking. It’s actually a popular courting song in the Highland Ranges…Oh, my!”

Shona suddenly stopped, and Alaric pushed forward to see what had startled her so. The black suddenly gave way to a blinding, cold, blue-white light.

“Horns!” Alaric hissed and released Shona to throw his hands up over his eyes in order to shade them from the sharp brilliance. A moment of blinking adjusted them, however.

“By all the gods,” Shona said, peering between her fingers as she shaded her eyes.

“What is it….gahhhh!” Vagner’s question shortened to a howl of pain. The demon threw up claws and wrapped chiropteran wings about him as if to shield himself from the light. He hunkered as steam suddenly rose from his hide, as though the light were burning him, and Alaric heard a voice curse, a voice that came from somewhere around the demon. An old memory of dreaded pain charged out of Alaric’s memory. He
knew
that voice!

But Vagner’s distress was filling their ears with agonized cried. “Gahhh! The pain!” the demon shrieked, his tone rising to a pitch that resembled the piercing chirp of a bat. Alaric was forced to abandon the moment of certainty as to whom that voice belonged to. The demon was terrified, and his pain was trying to lash at Alaric through the bond they shared. And just when Alaric thought the pain would come to him, his affinity for the magic in this subterranean haven stretched a shield of power around his mage senses without him summoning one himself.

What?
Alaric thought.

“He’s not meant to be here,”
Ronan said.
“This place is poison to a dark creature like himself.
He must leave at once.”

“He’s on our side, Ronan,”
Alaric retorted in his head.
“We might need him!
There’s got to be something we can do to help him.”

“You will have to shield him in darkness, then,”
Ronan said.
“But it would be better to make him leave…”

“I will not let him leave!”
Alaric argued.
“What if Tane were to find him and use him against us?”

“Tane should not be able to enter this place…”

“We don’t know that for certain!”

Silence at first, then Ronan hissed,
“So be it…”
and began to whisper words of an ancient spell in no tongue Alaric recognized. But he repeated the words aloud all the same.