The Emerald Dragon (The Lost Ancients Book 3) (18 page)

Covey waited until the rakasa looked at whatever creature they had with them, then darted forward with her sword and in a single swing decapitated the closest rakasa.

The remaining three charged forward, and worse, the thing in the leaves came out.

It was broken and naked, its skin covered in welts and bruises. Pointed ears stuck out through the matted hair and I was glad Orenda had fled. Whatever it was now, this creature had once been an elf.

Its legs were twisted so it crawled on all fours. Then it looked at me. I knew the eyes that stared out at me. Now filled with pain and total madness.

Chapter Thirty-One

Glorinal’s silver eyes faced me. Rather, one did. The other eye was huge and completely black. His ravaged face was uneven now, as if a spell or disease had made one side of it larger than the other. A pox of some kind stole away his cruel beauty into deep pockmarks and welts. His head was mostly bald, and his frame skeletal. Along with terror, I also felt a stabbing of sorrow. Then the images of the sixty-three people he and Jovan had murdered filled my mind.

If anyone deserved to suffer, it was he.

There was no recognition in those mismatched eyes, nor anything even seemingly sane.

We were at a stalemate; one that I didn’t think would last for long. I had no idea what Glorinal had become but clearly the rakasa hadn’t rescued him just to kill another elf. Although if they hated elven kind as much as was rumored, this would be a fitting use for one in their book. And if this was what they did to them before killing them, I could see why Alric was so terrified of them and why Orenda fled.

I hoped that wherever Alric was it was nowhere near here.

One of the rakasa stepped forward. This one was taller than the others and had a crude crown of branches and animal skins on its head. “You give us, we keep
him
here. Not attack you. You go.”

The voice was dry and rusty, as if it hadn’t been used in a few hundred years and the owner had been exposed to the elements. But I understood him.

“Give you what?” As annoying as she was, there was no way in hell I was giving up Orenda or anyone else.

Carlon charged forward at that moment, trying to get in the same swing Covey had. He might be a good fighter, but he looked completely unnerved as he ran forward.

Two of the rakasa blocked his attack, and Glorinal leapt up to grab him and pull him down.

Glorinal didn’t do anything else. Just sat there with his hands, or what was left of them, on Carlon’s chest to keep him down. Carlon’s face contorted in fear, but every time he tried to move, Glorinal pushed down harder and clenched his hand. Glorinal turned and whined to the rakasa leader like a dog asking for permission to devour a treat.

“Dragon. We get our dragon back, you live.” The voice was getting a bit less rusty, and I started wondering if I had been right. Maybe it hadn’t spoken in a few hundred years.

I looked to Covey and the others. Tag and Harlan hadn’t run yet but both looked terrified out of their minds. Covey looked like she was waiting for the word to attack. She was muttering something, but while I could see her lips moving, I couldn’t hear her. Her gaze was fixed on Glorinal and Carlon.

“We don’t have any dragons. Why are you chasing us?”

The rakasa looked at me, and then sniffed in the direction of the wagons. He turned back to Glorinal.

“You sent us this way? Why?” The rakasa asked the thing that used to be Glorinal.

Glorinal kept looking at Carlon.

The rakasa motioned to the other two of his kind. “Get the slave.”

Glorinal was pulled off of Carlon and dragged to the leader. Carlon scrambled away but didn’t leave the area, he just found his sword and waited.

“Why this way? Why did we follow them? It is too soon for exposure.” The rakasa slapped Glorinal with enough force to have taken off his head had Glorinal been his former self. As it was his head snapped back and he cowered.

“Drag-on. Have.” His voice was painful to hear, and again I had to keep shoving the memory of the innocent people he murdered into my mind.

“You lie. Not time for this.” The lead rakasa looked at the five of us. Then motioned for the other two to drag Glorinal with them and vanished into the woods.

All of us stood there for a few moments. I didn’t know about the others, but I couldn’t get my limbs to move. Literally. At first, I thought it was fear, and then I realized that creature had put a spell on us.

Or someone had. Someone who didn’t want us following them.

The moment passed and we could move. And were surrounded by a flood of faeries, both wild and those from town. I’d wondered where the girls had gone after their initial fly over, but was counting on them staying out of trouble for once.

And they had.

“We here. Where they go?” Garbage had not only gone for reinforcements; she’d gone to get her war feathers on. Or plucked a new batch off some poor bird.

“They went that way.” I held up a hand. “But don’t follow them.”

Crusty looped around the area the rakasa and Glorinal had gone, then came back to me with a confused look. “They no there. Never there.”

The other faeries all flew over the spot as well, a few of the wild ones even going down the trail, but all came back with the same confused looks.

“Not there. Where you put?” Garbage had the same tone and look she had when she’d chastised me for destroying a sceanra anam to save my life.

“They went that way.” Harlan had finally recovered enough to speak, but he still didn’t look good. He was a lover not a fighter and it spoke volumes to how much he cared about Covey and me that he hadn’t run off at the first sign of the rakasa.

My three faeries buzzed close to him, then came back.

“They vanish!” Garbage said with conviction. Apparently, they didn’t believe my telling of the story. However, if Uncle Harlan said it, he of the treats and belly rubs, it was considered true. Nice to have a reminder of where I stood with them.

“This is all great, but we need to get moving.” Carlon didn’t completely snarl, but it was close, as he stomped past us and went back to the wagons.

I noticed none of the faeries got anywhere near him. The ones that had been hovering where he marched through rose high in the air before he got close then flew closer to us.

The wild faeries formed a giant circle, then sang a high-pitched note, and flew out of sight. I was standing near Garbage, so I saw the flash of sadness on her face as they left. Then she shook it off, and held a brief meeting with the town faeries. I couldn’t understand what they were saying, but they soon left as well, leaving my three and the extra nine that were apparently with us for the duration of this trip. No way would I try to learn all their names. Dingle Bottom and Penqow were the easiest names of the bunch.

By the time we got back to the wagons, Locksead had been retrieved and placed in his wagon. He hadn’t regained consciousness yet, but Orenda nodded when I peeked in. His arm was in a sling with sticks, and he was covered in scratches. But it looked like he’d survived.

Which left Carlon stomping around trying to get everyone ready to ride. Locksead wasn’t a softy, not by any stretch, but he was compared to Carlon. I wondered again what Orenda had seen in him. Although, he’d used that tiny magic trick when she came back. He could have spelled her from the beginning and then was actually breaking it.

Love spells weren’t that hard to learn. Alric wouldn’t teach them to me, but he explained them in theory. While they weren’t difficult to learn, they were draining for the spell caster. I narrowed my eyes and watched Carlon barking orders. The physical cost would have been heavy. So why would he cast a spell on her, then tire of her after a few weeks? I’d have to keep an eye on Carlon whether I wanted to or not.

The faeries and I went back to our wagon, where an agitated Bunky waited. He’d taken my command to wait there seriously, but wasn’t happy about it.

“Sorry, Bunky.” I stuck my hand in my cloak and skritched him through it. I needed to see if Covey had brought me any gloves. “But it was better you stayed here.”

He gave his rumbling buzz, and then flew up a few inches to eye level with a definite accusation in those black eyes.

“We needed you to stay here and protect everyone else.” I motioned to the rest of Locksead’s gang that had stayed behind. In truth, I wouldn’t have tried to protect them. They couldn’t even be bothered to try to get their leader until they were sure the risk was gone. However, my words changed the tone in Bunky’s buzz. He clearly was taking his role as guardian of the faeries and me to heart, but it was good to know I could transfer that care if need be.

I opened the door to the wagon and he waited until the faeries flew in. Crusty Bucket as usual was bringing up the rear. She was also flying more sideways than usual and I had to catch her before she flew into the side of the wagon.

I flipped her over to make sure she hadn’t been hurt somehow. As far as I knew none of the faeries had been around the rakasa, but who knew what they did before we went out there. “Crusty? Sweetie? Are you okay?”

She shook herself off, staggered about my hand a bit, then flopped down with folded legs. “Stinky. Is very stinky.” She waved her hand in front of her nose as if to clear the smell from it.

“What’s stinky, sweetie?” We put her down next to the others gathered around their little carriage. Stinky I could deal with; nasty things trying to kill us I had a problem with.

“He stinky. Bad man.” She must have cleared her head enough because then she ran off to join the others as they all stuffed themselves in the carriage. A lot of giggling, snorting, and singing. Then silence.

I stuck my head inside. All twelve were sound asleep in a giant mass of overall clad legs and wings.

I was not one to argue with providence. The faeries had already shown to be easily bored when traveling in the wagon, so if they wanted to sleep during it I was all-good with that.

The door swung open and Covey, followed by a very irate Orenda, came inside.

“What’s wrong?”

Orenda glared at the closed door. “That man, Carlon. I need to stay with Locksead. I think he’s going to recover, but he still hasn’t woken up. That idiot is having Cook ride with him because obviously a cook knows how to fix injuries.” She flung herself on her seat. “I spent time learning the healing craft as a child; I bet Cook has never even tied a bandage.”

There was no haughty elven princess there, only a pissed-off nurse. My opinion of her went up a few notches.

“I thought he was your soul mate?” Covey had leaned back and closed her eyes as soon as she took her seat, but she obviously was listening.

“I was wrong.” Orenda’s tone possessed enough venom to fuel an army of poisoners for a year. “Horribly, horribly wrong.” The shudder she gave reinforced it if there had been any doubt whatsoever.

“Good. That man is a jackass.” Covey cracked open an eye and gave the elf a smile.

“I could have killed that…thing…if he hadn’t charged forward right when he did.”

Covey let that annoyance stew for a bit, then turned to me as the wagon started moving.

“Your ex-boyfriend hasn’t improved. But it couldn’t happen to a better person.” Her eyes narrowed. “I still need to kill him. Although if he’s aware at all of what he now is, that would almost be payment enough.”

Orenda watched both of us with growing confusion. She’d taken off before Glorinal had arrived. I was actually grateful for that for her sake.

I gave a sigh. It would be better not to tell her about him, but I had a horrible feeling in my gut that this wasn’t the last time we’d be seeing him or his keepers. The way they left was both odd and disturbing; clearly Glorinal had given the rakasa some bad information as to what we had with us. But it still seemed like a sudden departure.

“Who are you talking about?” Orenda asked.

Some of the stuff in my head must have shown in my face. Orenda looked like she felt she needed to know, not that she wanted to know.

It took longer than I would have thought to explain the entire Glorinal saga, or at least the crucial aspects. But that was mostly because I kept trying to skim and Covey was relishing all the details. Until it got to the part where he and Jovan had taken Harlan and Covey prisoner. Neither of them had talked much at all about what happened. Coming from Covey that reticence wasn’t too unexpected. However, that level of silence for Harlan scared me.

Covey skimmed it now, and I let her.

Orenda looked shocked and concerned. But most of her questions were aimed at the fact that not only had there been other elves around, that both were major magic users—she mentioned her people had only the weaker magics left now—and that Jovan was from before the Breaking. It seemed that her clan had been even worse off than Alric’s in terms of older survivors and had been founded by a group of teens and children.

Of course, she seemed to be in complete denial about the rakasa. Even though she had seen them, and judging by her reaction, she had known what they must be from horror stories still passed down by her people, she was blocking them out.

“But how did he survive? Is there any way we can free him? We could question him,” She turned to Covey with an understanding nod. “Make him stand proper trial for his actions, including killing one of the Old Ones.”

She was back to focusing on Glorinal. Had she seen what he was now, she wouldn’t be asking about rescuing him. The nicest thing anyone could do would be to kill him.

Covey answered before I could. “There is nothing left. He was a vile, vicious killer, and he got what he deserved, but there is nothing left, even of that. He is now a monster in the truest sense of the word.”

Orenda opened her mouth to try to defend him; he was an elf after all. But Covey closed her eyes, folded her arms, and went to sleep.