Star Mage (Book 5) (18 page)

But then again Nikulo didn’t remember any sorcerers on Vellia with the abilities that Master Holoron had described. Perhaps they were more loyal to the Emperor since they were based in Carvina and all the other magical Orders were founded in Ishur? Where did their loyalties lie? Potentially Master Raelles never even visited Carvina on his return trip to recruit fighters for Aurellia’s cause. Maybe those of the Order of the Dragons were never loyal to Lord Aurellia, just loyal to themselves.

“We should leave under the cover of darkness,” Master Holoron said. “Get some sleep and I will wake you in the early hours of morning.” The old wizard hobbled away and left Nikulo to his thoughts.

He decided he should try and sleep, so he ambled over to the hammock that the fisherman had prepared for him and lay down and felt the gentle sway lull his eyes closed. He dreamed of dragons in flight above the skies of Illumina, the great horde of dragons from Ghaelstrom flying to help them in their fight against the Jiserians. The massive black dragon, King Valeron, sweeping his wings out as he landed on the ground near Nikulo, his great black eyes studying him with questioning look.
 

Nikulo heard the dragon speak to his mind.
Are you the one who will betray my people to the fiends of your world? How will you live with the blood of the dragons staining your hands and your heart? If you betray us, may your name be cursed by the gods forever…
The king dragon stretched out his long neck and Nikulo could feel those dagger-like teeth sinking deep into his arm.

Heart pounding, he woke with a start as Master Holoron shook his arm and told him it was time to go. Nikulo glanced at his arm, half-expecting to see teeth marks and blood gushing from the wound, but found nothing. He exhaled and slipped out of the hammock and stretched the discomfort out of his back. Would he really betray the dragons? Or could the lie be stretched further and somehow keep those sorcerers stranded on Chandrix, the middling world, where they could do no harm on either planet? Could he convince them?

Master Holoron and Nikulo trudged south through the darkness, following a faint faerie wisp illuminated in golden light as it danced ahead and found them a safe path to traverse. Another secret spell that the old, mysterious wizard possessed that Nikulo had never seen. He thought it strange that the wizard chose not to fly, as he was certain that the old man possessed such a spell.

“When we arrive in Onair, it will be particularly useful for us to pretend we’ve just come via the sea.” Master Holoron huffed and breathed hard as they climbed a steep rise. Soon they stood overlooking the view of Onair and the sea, clearly illuminated by the brightness of the four moon sisters. The broken walls of the city looked eerie and desolate in the darkness, as if the city were a vast beast slumbering after a grave injury.
 

They hiked down the hill and stayed close to the rocky cliffs with a clear view of the hastily built docks where two ships were anchored in the low mist. Soon they stealthed along the hard, encrusted surface of the beach, and Nikulo drooled at the sight of the fat crabs sidling away from their approach.
 

“You are trained as a mentalist, am I correct?” The wizard glanced at him and continued without waiting for a response. “Can you use your skills on humans, perhaps to convince the captain of that ship that we’ve just arrived with him from Carvina?”

“Likely, assuming they have actually come from Carvina. It is far easier to make such a mental suggestion when the truth is stronger than the lie.” After a long while they reached the docks and sneaked down the wooden pier until they found themselves facing a large galley with the gangplank conveniently down. Master Holoron beckoned for Nikulo to go first up the plank. The wooden board creaked as Nikulo stepped along its length and finally he reached the empty deck with a guard dog that snarled at his arrival.
 

With a quick hand to his temple, the beast calmed and panted in a friendly, I-want-a-snack kind of way. Nikulo handed the black dog a piece of dried beef and the creature wagged his tail and smacked in satisfaction as he wolfed down the treat.

“Good boy,” Nikulo whispered, and scratched the dog’s ears. “Now can you show me where the captain is sleeping?” The animal bobbed its head and exhaled a smelly waft of air, and trotted over to a cabin on the aft side of the ship, its claws clicking against the wooden deck. The dog plopped itself in front of the door and whined softly.

Nikulo waited in the shadows while commanding the dog to continue whining until a stirring and creaking could be heard inside the cabin, and a groggy voice said, “Something wrong out there, pup?”

The door groaned opened and a scraggly-faced man with long, disheveled hair poked his head out and studied the tail-thumping dog. “Oh, I see, now. Yer just lonely and wanting a wee bit o’ company, are ya?”

Nikulo pressed two fingers hard against his temple and fixed his mind on the captain’s thoughts. Smoothly he inserted a suggestion that his two visitors from Carvina were needing to rise early today and visit the Jiserian rulers of Onair, and that he needed to escort them inside the city.
 

As a way of assuring verbal confirmation, Nikulo suggested to the man that it would be good for him to speak the words out loud, which he did in a dreamy, distant voice. The dog clobbered its tail against the deck at the captain’s words.

“Oh, you’re awake, Captain.” Nikulo stepped carefully out from behind the shadows. “I hope I didn’t startle you. We were to meet early and go into Carvina?” Nikulo gestured at Master Holoron, who slowly appeared to the inspecting eyes of the captain. “We’re anxious to conduct our business with the masters of the Order of the Dragons. Especially since we’ve come all this way from Carvina.” Nikulo was taking a gamble that the ship had docked in the capitol, and found success as the man nodded his head in groggy assent.

“Yes, yes, and you must be tired after making so many stops along the way.” The captain arched his back as if invigorated by some noble purpose. “Let’s make haste and get you inside, though I’m a bit confused.” He rubbed his head and Nikulo prodded his mind forward. “Bit confused as to how I’d go about requesting an audience with them… They never see us. Only the soldiers deal with sailors and merchants.”

Nikulo waved away the worrisome thought. “Never you mind, Captain. Just get us inside those gates and we’ll handle everything past there. If anyone asks who we are, just mention we are two emissaries from the Royal Court of Carvina on a secret mission to meet the masters of the Order. They’ll understand diplomatic privilege.”

The feeble-minded captain bobbed his head stupidly and his eyes glazed over at hearing the words,
diplomatic privilege,
as if nothing more needed to be said after those words had been spoken. They followed the leather-clad captain down the gangplank and the dog loyally trotted ahead, sniffing up the scents along their path down the docks. The dog lifted its leg and marked a pile, its eyes staring ahead into the darkness where torches flickered at the city gates.

“Morning, soldier,” the captain said, and inclined his head in a bow as the three of them passed a well-armed guard with suspicious eyes. The soldier settled on Nikulo and Master Holoron for an uncomfortable amount of time. Then the man continued on his patrol away from them and Nikulo sighed in relief as they neared the heavily fortified gate.
 

A tall, burly soldier wearing a strange, woven steel armor studied them with hawkish eyes as they strode closer. He stood well over a foot taller than Nikulo, and his giant sword swung out to stop the captain’s approach.

“What do you think you’re doing?” The soldier lifted the captain’s chin with the tip of his gleaming sword. The sailor gulped in response, his once sleepy eyes now fearful and alert.

“These men are emissaries from the Royal Court of Carvina.” The captain froze as the soldier rested his blade against the sailor’s neck. “They have business inside with your rulers.”

“And my sword is hungry for blood.” The soldier’s words earned him a few appreciative grunts from the other men in their squad who sat lazily around a fire warming their hands.

“What Crestia means to say is…turn your sorry asses around and go back to that pathetic ship of yours,” another older, menacing-eyed soldier said. “Or find your head lopped off your ugly body. Those men are no more royal emissaries than the wench I had last night was the legendary Princess Serine of House Ostreva.”

The soldiers guffawed at that remark, and Nikulo found himself uncertain if he could affect the cynical, hardened minds of those men. Master Holoron seemed infinitely more confident as he spoke to them in a low, assuring voice.

“Let the poor man alone,” the wizard said, and stepped in and moved the sword aside. “He’s just doing as instructed and delivering us to Carvina. No need to frighten him. Can you see us more clearly now, in the light of your torches, that we are emissaries from the Royal Court? Would you dare turn us away and risks your lives as swordplay for those masters of the Order of the Dragons?” He studied Crestia with doubtful eyes. “You won’t last long against them, I’m afraid.”

“What do you know of the Dragons?” Crestia said, and lowered his sword as an uncertain expression clouded his face.

“As a royal emissary I know a great deal.” Master Holoron sighed in irritation. “I know they’re faster than you by far and stronger as well, and even if they weren’t, there is no way that your pathetic sword could cut through their scaly armor. How many countless times have you seen them hack down challengers in the arena? Dare you wish to join those challengers in filling the trough of blood spilled by those masters of the Order? Now step aside and open the gates, and you can get back to the business of minding your wenches.”

There was a long, tense pause during which Nikulo felt beads of sweat dribble down under his armpits. He glanced at the nervous, wary eyes of the soldiers who all seemed to be waiting for someone to issue a verdict. Finally, a soldier pushed himself up from a chair where he had been resting under a tarp. As he sauntered over to them, a long scar across his grizzled face gleamed in the firelight. His eyes stared off in different directions as he studied Master Holoron and Nikulo in a long, uncomfortable gaze.

“Since you seem to know the Dragons so well, old man, why don’t you tell me which Master of the Order you seek?” The man Nikulo guessed was the commander stared at the wizard a long time as if he knew the trap he had set would catch its prey.

A wry smile crossed Master Holoron’s face. “A name I can easily supply. Is it Commander?”

The soldier nodded and said, “Commander Drelan.”

“Thank you, Commander. We are here to visit Master Varghul, the leader of Onair and likely the new bane of your existence?” The wizard gave Commander Drelan a knowing expression that caused the man’s cold stare to deflate.

“Right this way, sir.” The soldier completely changed his demeanor to that of a professional bound by duty to fulfill his task. Master Holoron bowed abruptly to the captain, and followed Commander Drelan fifty feet up to the gates now rising and clattering noisily.
 

Nikulo stared up in amazement at the repaired gaps in the walls where the waves had broken through, clearly visible by the incomplete construction that stopped around twenty feet up along the hundred foot walls. It was almost as if a titanic sea beast had come ashore and chomped several areas of the walls, leaving behind a horrific wreck.
 

The city inside was sparse and crudely constructed, and the lower part was filled with large tents and Nikulo could see the fearful eyes of women dressed in dour colors as they prepared breakfast for the sleeping men. Piles of resting dogs nestling together failed to bother at their approach. The entire area had a desolate, temporary feeling as if at any moment another massive wave from the sea might wash it all away and leave behind only sand and rubble.
 

After walking some fifteen minutes through more hastily constructed housing, they finally reached a second gate that rose at the Commander’s signal. Compared to the chaos of Ursula, the City of Onair was run with the rude precision of a military camp at war, though Nikulo could see no evidence of conflict. The inner city seemed completely unaffected by the gigantic waves that had struck the outer walls and had inflicted horror on the houses and buildings there.
 

The core of the city was the picture of perfection, the exotic beauty that Nikulo had imagined from the etchings in his geography books he had studied of Onair. Tall palm trees dotted the landscape, with fig and date and olive trees scattered here and there across the multi-layered cityscape. The several storied houses were whitewashed with colorful paintings and patterns circling underneath the wooden roofs. On the towering buildings built with sharp, sleek granite pillars, the clean, geometric rooflines stood as sentinels to the vibrantly painted friezes below the beams. Nikulo gaped at the pristine condition of this part of the city, as if the invading sorcerers refused to touch the historic beauty of this place. For indeed it was a marvel to behold.

The only evidence of discord was a massive pile of sun-blanched human bones and skulls in front of one the most beautiful buildings—Nikulo guessed it was a temple from glancing at the golden dome. Across the white wall were characters written in an arcane, Jiserian script that Nikulo could read from his years of study with Master Holoron.

DRAGONS HAVE DEVOURED THE SONGS.