Rise of the Blood Masters (Book 5) (15 page)

The mischievous tree sprites played in the branches above him; they were always the most active at twilight. There were hundreds of them in the trees now. The moon rose slowly in the sky, casting its pale white light onto the grove. Suddenly, a wave of silence settled over the forest. The sprites ceased their chatter, the birds stopped chirping, and even the wind stopped moving through the trees.

Chua froze.
It was happening.
He raised his face and sniffed the air. The breeze carried a foul odor, dark and putrid.

“She’s here,”
he whispered,
“and she’s casting a black spell.”

A loud hissing, followed by thousands of tiny cries, pierced the silence. An instant later, he felt them falling around him. The tree sprites fell by the hundreds, shrieking their pitiful death rattles, their little bodies crumpling into heaps around him. They fell on his shoulders, in his lap, and on the soft grass around him. For once, Chua was thankful that he couldn’t see.

“What’s happening?”
asked Starclaw, shaking her head.

Chua drew a sharp breath. “She’s killing all the tree sprites.  She knew about them, about how they’re charged with defending this sacred place. They would have attacked her, so she killed them before they could.”

“The Elder Willow is unprotected then,”
Starclaw said in a hushed voice.

“Yes. Darkness has fallen over this place.” Chua waited, remembering his visions. He knew what would happen now. He felt powerless to stop it.

Skera-Kina stepped out from her hiding place in the trees. A thin trickle of blood dripped from her nose. She wiped the blood away with the back of her hand, leaving a crimson streak across her cheek.  Her chest heaved and her body shook, but she looked triumphant.

Her face was flushed, but she looked around with clear eyes. The tree sprites, wild creatures of the forest, lay scattered within the sacred grove that they had protected for centuries, their broken limbs and tangled hair leaving a grisly pattern on the grass. Skera-Kina looked down at the tiny green bodies. She threw back her head and roared with victory. Chua knew that the spell had cost her much, but it had worked. The tree sprites were all dead.

Taking a deep breath, Skera-Kina opened her eyes and instinctively knew that there was nothing for her to fear. She smirked, raising a tattooed finger into the air, as if to test the wind. Her sharpened teeth gleamed in the moonlight. “There you are,” she whispered.

Chua gulped air to ease the tightness in his chest.
If only I was younger and not a cripple…
but no, those days were gone. It was no use trying to imagine it. Chua did not attempt to flee or hide himself. He had seen this coming and had known the outcome for years. There was no escape.

Skera-Kina stepped forward, her black leather boots moving silently through the grass. She stopped a few paces away from the old spellcaster. “So, you’re the great oracle of the east.”  She studied his face, and saw the resignation written there.

“I am he,” Chua responded flatly, “if you wish to call me that, I suppose.”

“You don’t look like much. I didn’t expect a cripple.” Her deep voice sounded like two stones grinding together.

“Appearances can be deceiving, dark lady.”

“Indeed,” Skera-Kina said. “Indeed, they can be.”

Chua threw off his blanket and propped himself up as best he could, facing his adversary. Starclaw tucked her shattered wing behind her and wrapped her tail around her rider.

Chua cleared his throat. “Say your piece, then.”

Skera-Kina cocked her head to one side. “You know that I’m more powerful than you. Even if you were in perfect health and not the broken creature that you are, I would still have twice your strength. You cannot hope to defeat me in the state you’re in, old man.”

Chua seemed to deflate suddenly. “I know this. I have foreseen it.”

Her eyebrows rose. “That’s not the response I expected. You’re much calmer about this situation than I thought you would be. Are you not afraid?”

Chua removed his blindfold. He stared in her direction with eyeless sockets. “I am not afraid of you. Look at me. Look at my broken body and my scarred face. I know what real pain is. There is nothing left for me to fear in this life. Any real fear died within me long ago.” Starclaw was stoic and quiet, but her sorrow was palpable. She was blind and crippled, too, and not strong enough to defend her rider, or prevent his fate.

“You have a stout heart,” Skera-Kina said, her voice carrying a small measure of respect. “Most fear me.”

“I’m sure that’s true. But my soul is at peace with this. My duty was to live my life in a way that was pleasing to the gods, and to be ready to depart whenever they wished it.” He raised his chin. “Do what you must.”

She stood back for a moment, observing Chua carefully. “I propose a bargain, then. You can certainly choose to fight me. But you shall lose, and your death shall be unpleasant, as will the death of your dragon. Instead, I propose a pact between us, an agreement that will benefit us equally.”

“Go on.”

“You are an oracle. Tell me my future, honestly and truthfully, and I’ll grant you an easy death, without any suffering. It’s a fair trade.” Her voice held no rancor.

Chua considered the request. “I’ll only answer questions about you. Not about anyone else. And you must give Starclaw an easy death, too, if she desires it.”

After a moment, she nodded. “Agreed.”

              “I accept this pact. I am an oracle, and it seems fitting that this will be my final reading.”

“Swear to it, then. In the old language.”

Chua spat into his palm.
“Sannindi,”
he said. The air around him sparked. “Now you must swear in turn.” It was the
Oath of Enemies.
Now they were sworn to tell the truth. The spell could not be broken while either party was still alive. Chua wheezed, gasping for breath. The effort of such a powerful spell had taken the energy out of him.

He felt weak… weaker than he had in years.

Skera-Kina spat into her palm.
“Sannindi,”
she said. The air sparked again. Chua reached out to touch Starclaw and was comforted when he felt her cool scales under his hand. When his breathing returned to normal, he said, “I can’t walk. You must come and sit by me.”

Skera-Kina slid through the grass like a snake and made her way to where Chua lay against the massive truck of the ancient tree. The sounds of the forest were slowly returning, and now crickets could be heard in the grass.

“Please sit here,” Chua said, spreading out his hand. He invited Skera-Kina to take a seat on the grass. “The foretelling will be more accurate if I can touch you.”

Skera-Kina paused, and then crossed her legs and sank down into the grass. Her shoulders remained arched and alert, ready to strike at a moment’s notice. She kept one hand on the hilt of her dagger, and stretched the other one out to touch Chua’s arm. He flinched at the contact, but did not pull away. 

He inhaled, and his face took on a faraway look. “I’m ready to answer your questions. What is it that you want to know?”

Skera-Kina pondered for a moment, and then spoke. “I was born a slave, and throughout my life, I’ve had many masters. I have always lived a life of submission. First to my slave master, and then to the great Temple of Balbor.” She paused. When she continued, her voice was subdued. “I am a Blood Master and the highest ranking spellcaster in all of Balbor. My position is one of great honor, but… in my soul, I wish for freedom. I have taken a blood oath to the temple. Sometimes, I wish that I had not.” She raised her face. Behind the swirling tattoos, her eyes danced with a hunted glow. “I am tired, old man. I have been forced into a life of perpetual servitude. Will I ever be free?”

He took a deep breath. “You wanted the truth, and you shall have it. You were not born a slave, as you believe. You were born free in the caverns of Mount Velik. And you are not human. You are a dwarfling, born to a dwarf mother and an elf father. That is why you are drawn to the dwarves. They are your people.”

Skera-Kina was so startled that she jerked her hand away. “I’m not human? I’m half-elf? Am I immortal, then?”

“No, only
pure-blood
elves are immortal, and you are a
half-blood
. However, your life shall be very long, assuming you don’t die by violence. Unless you can break your blood-oath, you shall be forced to serve the temple for hundreds of years. The priests must have known you were mixed blood when they forced you to make your dedication. They knew you would potentially serve them for a long, long time.”

              “If I was born free, then how did I become a slave?”

“Because of the war. Slavery wasn’t outlawed until after the war was over. Do you know Druknor Theoric?”

Chua’s words raised the hair on the back of her neck. “Yes… he’s the constable of Sut-Burr.”

“That’s the one. You must know him; since he is one of your spies.”

Skera-Kina nodded. The oath would have prevented her from lying anyway, so she admitted it. “Yes, he is.  Druknor is a Balborite spy. He has been reporting intelligence to the priests for decades.”

“You were sold into slavery when you were a baby; by him—Druknor Theoric. He is the one responsible for your current condition. You would never have been sold into slavery if it were not for him. He kidnapped you from your adopted family and sold you to the Balborites.”

Skera-Kina clenched her fists until her knuckles went white. “That snake…. I should have slit his throat when I had the chance.”

“…But you did not,” Chua said.

“No. I’ve been tempted to kill him so many times. But Druknor is useful to the temple priests.”

“He’s not as useful as they’ve been led to believe,” Chua said. “He’s a double agent, and he’s been feeding misinformation to your priests for a long time. Druknor cares nothing for your religion or your cause. He’s only interested in stuffing his coffers with gold and securing more power for himself in the north. He’s never stopped smuggling; all of those profits he keeps for himself. The dragon riders recently discovered the depth and breadth of his crimes, so Druknor’s days are numbered. When they finally get the evidence to convict him, he’ll face execution.”

Skera-Kina shot him a glance. “If what you say is true, and he is a traitor to Balbor, then I’ll gut him myself. I’ve stayed my hand one too many times with him already.”

Skera-Kina paused for a moment to control her anger. “Will I ever be relieved from this bondage?”

“Unfortunately that answer is not clear to me. Your blood oath binds you to the high priest, and your pledge to the temple is irrevocable. You chose to take the blood oath of your own free will. You must adhere to it, and you can’t simply walk away from the obligation. As long as the high priest lives, you are compelled to follow his orders. You cannot harm him yourself, either directly or indirectly. Your oath prevents that.”

“So I am trapped in this life,” she said with a hollow laugh.

“Your blood oath binds you forever, but you still have
some
choices,” Chua said. “They are choices with vast implications, but they are yours to make. You can escape the oath by taking your own life. You can also wait for the high priest to die.”

“That doesn’t sound like much of a choice,” she replied.

Chua shrugged. “It’s still a choice. There are some oaths that reach beyond death, and you are lucky that yours does not extend to the afterlife. And the choice is closer than you think. Soon, the gods shall grant you a single opportunity to decide your fate. At that time, you shall decide whether to continue your life as it is, or break free.”

“When?” she asked. “When will this be? Tell me exactly.”

“My foresight is not exact. But it will be soon. Within a year, perhaps.”

After a while she stood up and brushed the pine needles off her tunic. There was nothing more to say. “Thank you for the information. Are we finished here?”

“Yes,” said Chua, the words barely escaping his lips.

“Prepare yourself then.” She drew her sword from the sheath on her back.

Chua sighed. He had the gift of Sight—he always knew this day was coming. He had known it for years, but now tears flowed down from his scarred, sightless eyes. “One moment please.” He reached over and caressed Starclaw’s massive jaw. The dragon purred into his hand, nuzzling her rider with her snout. “Thank you for being my dearest companion for all these years,” he said quietly. “After everything we have suffered together, I thought I would never shed another tear, but now, so close to the end, I feel that my heart will burst inside my chest.”

Sorrow bubbled up inside him. But there was something else, too—a feeling of freedom, a kind of liberation that he would finally be free from this life; free from this tortured existence.

Starclaw’s tail tightened around her rider.
“Thank you for being with me through every storm
.”

His face softened. “I love you, my dearest friend,” he said, his voice choked with emotion. Chua wiped his nose and lifted his chin, keeping his hands at his sides. He did not attempt to defend himself. This was his time to die with dignity.

“This death is a gift, old man. Don’t move or flinch, and I promise you won’t feel any pain. My aim is true.”

Chua nodded. “I am ready then.”

The sword hissed through the air as she swung it, plunging it deep into Chua’s heart. She kept her promise—her aim was true. He gasped once and fell forward.

With one quick pull, she withdrew the sword from Chua’s chest. Without wiping the blade, she did the same to Starclaw. The dragon didn’t flinch, but she cried out Chua’s name in dragon-tongue before she died. After a few kicks, Starclaw lay still.

Skera-Kina leaned over their bodies and tore the dragon stones from their chests. She held the two halves in her cupped palms; they were beautiful, sparkling like emeralds in the moonlight. But the beauty lasted for only an instant.

As Chua and Starclaw died, the stones slowly turned cloudy and gray, and then splintered into a handful of shattered shards. The once-beautiful stones now looked like common rubble. Skera-Kina opened her hands, and the fragments tumbled onto the grass.