The D'Karon Apprentice (12 page)

“Wait,” Myranda said. “Myn will need to be
fed. Normally she would hunt, but I imagine it might not be
appropriate to release her into your woods unattended.”

“Garr needs to feed as well. I will escort
her for the hunt,” Grustim said. “It is only proper that I make
amends for my prior indiscretion.”

“Does that suit you, Myn?” Myranda asked.

Myn and Garr looked distrustfully at one
another for a moment before she stood and stalked off toward the
nearby woods.

“Excellent. To business then?” Valaamus
asked.

Myranda and Deacon watched Myn trot into the
woods, followed closely by Grustim and Garr. Satisfied that she
could care for herself, and hopefully show enough restraint to
avoid causing an incident, they followed Valaamus into the
cabin.

#

Myn stepped lightly through the underbrush,
moving with slow care. The air was heavy with the scent of prey,
far more so than all but the best forests back home. This was
fortunate because, if not for the bountiful hunting, she might have
gone hungry. It wasn’t that the creatures were particularly
elusive. Far from it. They were as plump and clumsy as she’d ever
encountered. But today she was not alone. Today she had another
dragon to contend with. And that
man
on his back… She found
herself spending as much time watching them as she did searching
for a meal.

Not since Entwell had she had the chance to
observe another dragon. She caught their scent sometimes, in the
sky or in the mountains, but she’d never sought them out. It was
enthralling to watch Garr move. His movements were smooth and
confident, each step placed where the last had fallen. When prey
was distant, he raised his nose high, sniffing and tasting the
breeze, then dropped it low to sample the ground. When prey was
near he moved low to the ground, tail straight, wings flat and
tucked. It was all as Solomon had taught her. But there was more.
At times the human on his back would make a very un-human noise,
and he would hold. The human would then gaze about in the dim
light, glancing at a broken branch or a nibbled-upon bush, then
another grunt from the human would send Garr in a new direction.
Often it wouldn’t be long after that a new scent would grow
stronger. The human was helping him hunt. Myn didn’t know humans
could do that.

Other times Myn would step on a felled branch
or dry patch of grass and Garr’s head would whip in her direction.
And there were times when she’d made no such sound, yet she would
still notice him watching her, just as she had been watching
him.

The pair wove their own way through the
forest, snapping up a bird here or a rabbit there. Enough to make
for enough of a meal, but nothing truly satisfying. Not when there
was so much more appetizing prey to be found. It soon became clear
that each of them had the same quarry in mind. There were deer
about. Five of them. It would be a fine meal for whichever of them
could catch a few. Alas, as always seemed to be the case, the most
succulent prey was the most elusive. Myn tried and failed to catch
one or two, and Garr did the same. After a third attempt she
decided to make do with a few more of the easier targets when she
noticed Garr catch her gaze. He was far across the forest, barely
visible even to Myn’s keen eyes. He stalked slowly forward, his
eyes on Myn rather than the prey. Deeper in the woods between them
Myn heard the rustle of the deer moving away from Garr and toward
her. Myn moved forward, taking a bit less care with each step. The
prey now turned back toward Garr. Step by step, gradually, Myn and
Garr drove the group of deer tighter together. It wasn’t until both
dragons were nearly within striking distance that the deer finally
panicked and bolted.

Moving as one, Myn hooked left and Garr
hooked right. Thundering through the forest, they quickly gained on
the herd. Garr struck first, capturing two and startling the others
directly into Myn’s waiting claws. When each had dealt with their
prize properly, they snatched them up and padded toward each other.
Garr dropped his catch on the forest floor and crouched, allowing
Grustim to dismount. With a few quick slices of an ornate dagger
from his belt, he carved away a slice or two for himself, then
uttered a short command. Garr eagerly crunched up the rest of his
kill. As Myn ate the first two of her catches happily, Grustim sat
atop Garr, watching her.

“I’ll say this for that Northerner… if she
did raise you, at least she didn’t ruin you.”

#

Myranda and Deacon sat at a small table in an
extremely private room within the cabin. They awaited the return of
their host as he had a rather animated discussion with the two
mystics who had accompanied them. A light meal had been set out on
the table, and Myranda and Deacon had been instructed to start
without the others. The food was tasty, but quite different from
what they’d been accustomed to in the north. Rather than the rich,
hearty meals that could sustain one throughout the day and warmed
one from the inside out, the food before them was comparatively
focused on taste. Much of it was extremely spicy, and all of it was
intensely flavorful.

“This truly is a beautiful nation. It is
remarkable how sharply the land shifts in just a day’s travel,”
Deacon said, dousing the lingering burn of one of the more potent
entrees with a bit of wine. “And I’m truly intrigued by Grustim’s
knowledge of dragons. Such a subtle thing, faint rings on a horn,
can tell you so much. I imagine it could tell you not only how many
years the dragon has lived, but how quickly it grew! At least in
relative terms…”

“They haven’t had us stop anywhere with
citizens yet,” Myranda said. “I wonder if they are afraid of how
the people will react to us…”

Valaamus paced inside, a bit red-faced and,
despite the table settings for his associates, alone. Under his arm
was something rather substantial bundled in thick cloth. He lowered
it to the floor with care and took his place at the table.

“I apologize for the delay. Are you enjoying
the meal? Have you sampled the wellindo? Delicious, made from
stewed minced venison and seasonings. It goes brilliantly with the
fig bread.”

“Was there something wrong?” Myranda
asked.

Valaamus sat and grabbed a piece of the
bread, spreading a dollop of spicy-smelling meaty paste onto it.
“Another reprimand, I’m afraid. Please, if you would, shut the door
behind you.”

Myranda did so. The instant they had complete
privacy, Valaamus’s demeanor changed. Suddenly his body language
and tone of voice were a match for his stern expression.

“Let me begin by assuring you most vigorously
that you have the deepest apologies of myself and my kingdom for
any perceived deception regarding my aides. As I’m sure you can
understand, there was some… concern about inviting three of the
most powerful warriors of our generations-old enemy into our
kingdom. We did not want to appear distrustful, but at the same
time we needed to be certain that no spells were worked without our
knowledge. It was an act of poor judgment on our parts to attempt
to conceal our mystics, and I hope you will take me at my word that
no harm was meant.”

“I’m sure before this tour is through we’ll
each have made our share of mistakes,” Myranda said. “In the
future, let us err on the side of openness.”

“Agreed… And it is for that reason, and again
forgive me, I must ask about some enchantments my associates have
detected.”

“I am perfectly willing to discuss them,”
Deacon said. “I tend to rely somewhat heavily on enchantments. I
often forget the concerns some may have for such things.”

“The first is…” he reached into a pocket
within his robes to fetch a scrawled note, “some manner of
connection, reaching outward in many directions.”

“My stylus and the books I’ve fashioned. They
are really quite useful. They operate by—” Deacon began
eagerly.

“My apologies but any words you might spend
describing their workings would be wasted on me. You can discuss
them with my associates after our business here is through. Now,
something pertaining to protection of some sort?”

“That would be my ring,” Myranda said.
“Enchanted by Deacon upon our engagement.”

One by one they worked their way through the
list of enchantments and active spells that the pair had been
using. Most Valaamus disregarded as harmless, but one was strange
enough that he simply could not bring himself to understand.

“I’m sorry, but how can a hand be
‘unpredictable’ as you say, and how can such a problem be solved by
a ring?” Valaamus mused.

Deacon looked uncertainly to Myranda. “I
believe the simplest path to understanding would be to show
him.”

“Very well, but be careful,” Myranda
said.

Deacon grasped the ring and began to slide it
off. “Please prepare yourself. This may be… unsettling, but it is
entirely under control.”

Valaamus watched with interest as Deacon
removed the ring from his finger. For a moment there was no result.
Then, slowly, the skin began to shift. It marbled with red, veins
of discoloration widening until the whole of his hand was a mottled
crimson. Wide, stiff scales burst forth, and his fingers
lengthened. Just as it seemed stabilize into the claw of some
horrid creature, it shifted again, returning to a roughly human
shape but changing in substance to something between metal and
stone. He allowed it to shift twice more before shutting his eyes
and willing it back to normality. The demonstration completed, he
slipped the ring back on.

The diplomat’s face retained the rocky, stoic
expression that never seemed to leave it, but his eyes were wide
with shock and barely concealed disgust.

“What in this world or any other was
that
?” he said.

“It’s an affliction, the result of an
imprudently cast spell. The details are complex, even by my
standards, but suffice it to say my hand is not as stable as it
might be. The ring is an adequate treatment.”

“I believe… I believe you will have much to
discuss with my aides. But that sets my mind at ease. As you’ve
seen, we are quite adept at detecting magic. And as we have seen,
you are quite adept at casting it. I hope you will understand but…
we
are
recently enemies. The military has requested that you
limit any usage of mystic power, and completely forgo anything that
might give you insight further into our nation than we choose to
show. I, of course, would never accuse you of espionage, but if the
military were to feel the influence of your mind probing the
land…”

“I understand. Of course we agree,” Myranda
said.

“And what of passive magics?”

“We thank you for your cooperation. Now,
poorly timed as this may be in the face of our recent agreement to
forgo any further deception, I must now request a degree of
discretion on your part for the matter we are about to discuss. You
are, I hope, aware of the incidents that prompted our hasty
assembly of this diplomatic exchange.”

“The supposed D’Karon attacks,” Myranda
said.

“Precisely. Now, I know that neither your
kingdom nor mine is eager to begin again what has so recently been
ended. But if we determine that someone within your empire, or
allied with it, has been attacking our people, then we will have no
choice but to defend ourselves, and to do what is necessary to
prevent further attack.”

“Of course,” Myranda said. “And speaking as a
citizen of a land that has been held prisoner by their dark whims
since the start of the war, there is no one more interested than I
in making certain that any seed of the D’Karon is snuffed out
before it can blossom.”

“It is heartening to hear that. Every attempt
has been made to prevent the word of the attacks from spreading.
Even my aides do not know the full details of what we now discuss.”
He held up the item he’d brought with him. “Contained within this
bundle is a small sample of two of the D’Karon creatures that
attacked one of our most southerly cities. You may wish to complete
your meal before we continue—I understand they are somewhat
gruesome.”

“I don’t believe we can justify further
delay,” Myranda said.

“Very well,” he said.

They moved the food to the side of the table
and placed the bundle of cloth down. Myranda carefully pulled the
layer of cloth away. The bundle contained a few scraps of leathery
flesh and some bone fragments, a skull and a vial of black liquid.
A small stack of pages described the contents and included sketches
based on the accounts of those who had personally encountered the
creatures from which the samples had been taken. Deacon picked up
the stack of pages and began to read.

“‘The fact there are remains at all suggest
these are at the very least not the beasts we have faced in our own
kingdom. Many vanished into dust when defeated. Those that did
leave remains didn’t leave behind anything that looks like this.’”
Myranda leaned close to inspect the leather. It had a strong aroma,
like something one would find in an alchemist’s shop. “Have these
been treated in some way?”

“‘Those who discovered them were forced to
preserve them, as they were swiftly rotting,’” Deacon read. “That
swatch is from this creature.”

He slid a page over to Myranda with a simple
sketch of a billowing form. It could easily be one of the cloak
creatures that had so often plagued the Chosen, though there were
subtle differences even in the sketch.

“This flesh… the page says it came from the
‘cloak’ of the creature, but it looks to be leather. The cloaks we
knew were certainly cloth,” Myranda said. “And this sketch shows
claws along the edge of the cloak. It could be simply a
misremembered detail, but the cloaks typically had no such things.
When claws did flash into being, they were ghostly and faded to
nothingness before reaching the empty void within the cloak.”