Omensent: Princess Of Dragons (Book 5) (12 page)

"Good evening, Gwynth." Damion allowed himself to relax. "It has been a while since you last paid us a visit. How is everything in the realm of the gods?"

"Busy." The old woman murmured with a weary sigh. "The gods have returned to the disagreements and petty arguments that consumed them all before they withdrew from the world. I've been spending all of my time delivering insults and nasty messages back and forth for them." She shook her head in exasperation. "Gods are a lot like teenagers in that respect. They seem to enjoy spending their time dreaming up ways to get revenge on one another. It doesn't really surprise me, though. They have had a
very
long time to think up various barbs and insults while they were still bound by the Pact of the Gods, and now they finally get an opportunity to use them."

Gwynth of the Gods was a legendary figure known throughout the world by a dozen different names. Chosen by the gods when they withdrew from the world to avoid its destruction, Gwynth had been granted the gift of immortality in exchange for acting as their emissary. Whenever the gods had a message or command that needed to be delivered to their followers, it was the elderly woman's responsibility to deliver it, thus allowing the gods to continue to communicate with their people without violating the Pact of the Gods. Though they were no longer bound by the pact from returning to their people, some few gods still preferred to distance themselves from the world, and continue to use the services of Gwynth to deliver their words.

"Would you care to join us around the campfire?" Damion asked politely, preparing to lead the legendary old woman into the fortified encampment.

"A moment first, if you will, Dragon Lord." Gwynth of the Gods requested respectfully. "I would speak with you before my presence is revealed to..." She paused, a small frown hovering about her lips. "certain others."

"What is it?"

"It has come to my attention that you intend to journey to the Elven Island to aid the elves in the war between the followers of Hetris and the followers of Petra, and I had hoped to bring you a warning."

"Another warning?" The huge warrior asked with a sigh of resignation. "What does Estheryal wish to warn me of this time?"

"This warning does not come from the Serpent Mother, or the Dragon God, nor any other deity." The old woman told him in a serious tone. "It comes from myself." She gently took his arm and led him away from the camp. "The followers of Hetris are dangerous creatures that are not to be taken lightly. Hetris is the God of Strife and Deception, and His followers are all well versed in those qualities. Virtually anyone that you encounter on the island can turn out to be a blood elf,
but
you should also beware those who follow Petra, the Goddess of Fertility and Nature."

"Why is that?" Damion frowned.

"Petra is a warm, loving goddess, who is actually quite pleasant to converse with." Gwynth smiled. "She always tries to makes sure that everyone around Her is warm and well fed. She's a bit like a mother fussing over Her children. You two would get on quite well, I think." Her smile faltered. "Her children, however, are not so kind. In many ways, they can be just as ruthless and cold blooded as the followers of Hetris." She looked up at him gravely. "Unfortunately, unless they are stopped soon, the blood elves will surely overcome Petra's faithful and begin spreading throughout the lands, wreaking havoc wherever they go. It could be said that they are even more dangerous than the Etask."

"How so?"

"The Etazk make no pretense when it comes to achieving their goals." Gwynth explained. "Their motives are not hard to figure out. Blood elves, on the other hand, work their deviousness in concealment, never revealing their true intent until it is too late." She gripped his arm tightly. "You must make certain to be on your guard. Trust no one, especially those who attempt to befriend you. Elves are not known for being open and friendly, so it's safe to assume that any who are willing associate with you will probably have ulterior motives."

"Thank you for your warning, Gwynth," Damion told her earnestly. "We shall be on our guard at all times."

"That would be for the best. If the Dragon Sword were to somehow fall into their hands, the results would be disastrous."

"Neither the blood elves, nor Petra's faithful, will never get their hands on the Dragon Sword as long as I still live." He promised, patting her hand gently. "Would you care to join us?" He asked politely, gesturing towards the camp. "Raven has prepared some stew for dinner, and I'm pretty sure that Shirk stashed a couple of wineskins in the supplies."

"I'm afraid that I cannot." The old woman frowned regretfully. "I have to return to my responsibilities. I just wanted to bring you my warning in the hopes of preventing you falling victim to those with whom you placed your trust."

"I truly appreciate it, my friend." Damion knelt down and embraced the elderly old woman, who smiled happily. "I hope that you can visit us again soon. Everyone has missed seeing you, especially little Leia."

"Goodbye, Dragon Lord," Gwynth smiled again before vanishing into the darkness. "Remember to trust no one, no matter what. It may be the only thing that keeps you alive."

Damion watched as the legendary old woman disappeared into the darkness as silently as she had appeared, then he made his way into the fortified clearing and stepped into the firelight, causing everyone to jump in surprise.

"Damion!" Raven exclaimed in relief. "Is everything okay?"

"Everything is fine, dear one." He reassured her as she hurried around the fire to embrace him. "The goblins returned the way they came. I don't think they'll be causing us anymore problems."

"You didn't kill them?" Shirk asked in surprise.

Damion shook his head. "There wasn't any real need for it. After arguing amongst themselves for a few minutes, they turned around and headed back the way they came. Killing them wouldn't have served any real purpose."

"What if they start preying on the caravans traveling on the trade roads?"

"Slither is already aware of their presence." Damion said as he took a seat near the fire. "I'm confident that he'll take care of them before they cause any problems. Besides, if I had attacked them, it may have alerted more of them to our presence." He glanced over to Damarius. "What was odd about the whole encounter was the appearance of the goblin clan chief. He stepped in and put an end to the arguing, and then led them all back into the forest."

"That
is
unusual." The old wizard admitted with a frown. "Goblin chiefs rarely venture outside of their lairs. They have their clans take care of everything for them. They usually just sit around and grow fat." His brow furrowed in thought. "Perhaps they are looking for new grounds in which to settle."

"They chose the wrong area then." Shirk snorted. "The dragonspawn detest goblins, and these mountains are absolutely teeming with the beasts. It won't be long before they force the goblins to move on elsewhere."

"Snowfeather decided to follow the goblins to make sure that they do not double back and stumble across our camp." Damion informed them, accepting a steaming bowl of stew from Raven. "We shouldn't have any further problems from them."

"Other than the goblins, did you discover anything else that should concern us?" Shirk asked curiously.

Damion opened his mouth to tell them about his visitation from Gwynth, then quickly reconsidered, remembering the old woman's warning. "Not really, no." He said with a quick shake of his head. "Everything appears to be quiet."

"Good." The bearded bandit grumbled sourly. "Having goblins running around the area is bad enough. We don't need anything else slowing us down."

They reached the port city of Sierra three days later after encountering no further problems along the road leading north.

"It looks like Fedrio has been keeping his people hard at work rebuilding the city." Damion noted in approval as they rode into town. "The last time we were here, they were still cleaning up the mess left behind after the Etask fled."

"They've had several years to repair the damage." Damarius pointed out reasonably. "A good work crew can get quite a bit done in that amount of time, especially if they have a few dwarves among them, and the dwarven king left a fair number of workers behind to aid in the city's reconstruction."

"It looks as though Fedrio took his ideas of redesigning the city quite seriously." Raven commented, looking around at the neatly swept cobblestone streets in approval. "Traveling through the city should be much easier now."

Before the city had been destroyed during the Battle of Sierra, the roads leading through the port city were narrow and crooked, making it difficult to travel through the seemingly endless stream of caravans which would clog the streets for miles. But since most of the city had been leveled to provide materials for the construction of the harbor defenses in preparation for the Etazk invasion, the survivors of the battle had been forced to completely rebuild, allowing them to redesign everything to be far more functional for a thriving port city. Now the streets were wide and arrow straight, allowing caravans to move freely throughout the city without impeding the locals as they moved about their daily lives.

"I'm glad you approve." Damarius told Raven with an air of smugness. "I helped Fedrio design the new layout of Sierra. Straightening and widening the roads was one of our first priorities, along with repairing the battlements atop the harbor walls."

"Don't let that old blowhard take
all
of the credit for designing the city." A dangerously thin man called to the companions as he oversaw a group of laborers who were unloading a wagon full of heavy stone blocks.

"Fedrio!" Damion slipped down from his saddle and hurried over to greet his friend. "We've missed you! It's been some time since you last paid us a visit."

"Who has the time?" The emaciated looking man shrugged helplessly. "Ever since I was made Lord of Sierra, my every waking moment has been consumed with rebuilding the city."

"I have to say that it is coming along quite splendidly." Raven complimented him politely. "It's a far cry from the dirty harbor city that I remember before the Etazk arrived."

"I see that you took my advice and used granite for all the buildings." Damarius noted with an approving expression. "It certainly gives the city a more respectable feel. Much better than the hovels that once stood here."

"What do you expect?" Fedrio laughed. "Sierra was originally a smuggler's settlement. The buildings had all been thrown together from coral and driftwood gathered along the beachfront. But I think we've rectified that mistake." The thin man gestured to one of the beautifully designed granite structures. "We still had quite a bit of granite left over after the repairs to the harbor battlements were complete, and it seemed foolish to allow it to all go to waste, so we decided to use it in the construction of the rest of the city."

"How were you able to afford to pay all of the laborers?" Shirk asked curiously. "It nearly bankrupted Sevria to construct the battlements that surround the city."

"The dwarves were quite helpful in that regard." The thin man explained. "They provided their assistance without asking anything in return. The rest was paid for by the treasures left behind when the former lords fled the city with their tails tucked between their legs. They left a large portion of their wealth behind in their haste to escape, which was more than enough to reestablish ourselves." He looked back to Damion. "So what brings you to Sierra, my friend? Here to discuss a new proposal with the Merchant's Guild?"

"I'm afraid not. A matter of some urgency has come to our attention." Damion explained, careful not to reveal the fact that the elves had requested his aid, knowing that they would be embarrassed and insulted. "We are here in search of a ship."

"You're in luck then." Fedrio laughed again. "We have an entire harbor full of ships to choose from. Now that the city is back up and running, caravans have been pouring in. I think that old pirate you're so fond of, Captain Harper, may even be in port. He usually stops here between runs because we don't charge him a dock fee as a way of thanking him for his assistance in defending the city."

"Captain Harper's here?" Damion smiled. "It's been a while since I saw that old pirate. Does he still hang out at the inn by the docks?"

"He owns it now." Fedrio grinned. "He took it over after the battle. It was one of the few remaining structures that survived. He has a number of people that run it for him while he's at sea, but if he's in port, that's where you'll find him."

"Why am I not surprised?" Damion laughed.

"You're not planning on hiring that madman again, are you?" Shirk asked, his face turning an odd shade of green. "He's completely out of his mind!"

"Captain Harper isn't that bad." Raven defended their friend, who had helped them numerous times in the past. "He's a little eccentric, I'll grant you, but he knows these waters better than any other sailor alive, and is a good and honest man." She made a face. "Well, he's a good man, anyways."

"Let's go see if he happens to be in port." Damion suggested with a grin. "I'm sure that we can convince him to take us where we need to go."

They bid Fedrio farewell, and quickly made their way to the small tavern which stood in the shadow of the massive granite wall that separated the harbor from the rest of the city. They checked their horses at a nearby livery, and then hurried inside.

"There he is." Raven said, gesturing to a short man with long braided hair and a meticulously groomed beard who was sitting at a table near the rear of the tavern.

"I don't care how much Captain Hest said he would carry your cargo for!" Captain Harper was bellowing at a greasy looking fellow dressed in expensive looking robes, causing him to flinch back nervously. "I've already told you my price! Take it or leave it!" The rascally old sailor was dressed in a bright blue vest adorned with large gold buttons, and wore a thick, heavy chain of gold which hung to the middle of his paunchy gut. His extravagant hat was adorned with a long feather, and the bright blue eyes hidden beneath were shrewd and calculating. "Go ahead and pay that crook to haul your goods for you. You'll be lucky if there's anything left when he finally arrives at port!"