The Forging of the Dragon (Wizard and Dragon Book 1) (21 page)

Karmelad nodded thoughtfully. “Just between us, Jarnel, I never understood why you allowed that man anywhere near you. I would certainly never have trusted him — too much of a nose for intrigue.” The advisor’s own beak bobbed as he nodded to one of the guards, and the bag was once more shoved down over Jarnel’s head. Thus attired, the Prince of the Army of Arl stumbled blindly out of the cobbler shop to assume his new command.

Chapter Nineteen

MEGASIN’S CAVE

“IT isn’t all that cold,” Seagryn told himself through chattering teeth. He pulled his fur-lined cloak a little tighter around his shoulders and urged his shaggy-maned horse to move on.

It had been a week now since he had ridden out of the Paumer palace at the foot of the Central Gate upon Kerl’s broad back, and Seagryn had come to know the animal quite well — “from the bottom up,” he joked aloud, but the horse had made no comment. That wasn’t surprising. Kerl had a personality as gray as his fetlocks. If the horse had a sense of humor, Seagryn had yet to find it. But Kerl’s stolid demeanor did not affect his work, and his stoutheartedness had impressed his rider. Few people in this world could be trusted to behave so responsibly day in and day out. Seagryn had always valued those who seemed committed to that ethic and had tried to live that way himself. But unlike Seagryn, whose good intentions were so often thwarted by misfortune or the inconsistencies of others, Kerl made dedication to duty his obsession. Whatever the weather — and they’d endured two dreary days in the rain — or their food situation — Seagryn certainly had no grain to feed the animal, and there wasn’t enough time during their stops for Kerl to forage much — the heavily muscled horse plowed ahead at the same, inexorable pace. And although the lonely traveler on his back delivered endless rambling monologues to his tangled mane, Kerl had never once complained. Seagryn was beginning to love this animal. “You’re a lot more dependable than people,” he sniffed as he ducked under a branch that threatened to scrape him from his saddle. As he spoke he scowled at a mental image of Dark.

He had tried to be fair with the boy, to listen to him with understanding. Uda’s infatuation had placed a tremendous burden on Dark. After all, despite his gift, he was only a lad. And to be honest, his fault wasn’t so much that of irresponsibility as it was of cloudy judgment and lack of self-discipline. Seagryn had tried to hide his frustrations, but, as Amyryth had avowed, nothing that would eventually be known could be hidden from Dark. The boy had brought it upon himself. Seagryn had reacted with inordinate kindness and a very forgiving spirit, but Dark’s enraged response had made it clear the prophet felt
he
was the betrayed party. Even after
that
exchange Seagryn hadn’t exactly been angry. But he realized at last that their partnership had ended when the time came to depart the Hovel; then Dark had crisply informed Seagryn that he would be searching out tugoliths alone. Understandably so! How could the boy accompany anyone anywhere with a pubescent tart draped permanently about his neck?

“Women, Kerl. Be grateful you only have to carry them from place to place and then can be rid of them!” The horse said nothing. “Probably knew that was a lie, anyway,” Seagryn thought to himself. He could imagine nothing more pleasing than the thought of Elaryl riding here before him through the orange-tinted autumn woods. He would do anything for Elaryl, Seagryn told himself — after all, that was why he was here —

Seagryn had traveled down the mountain with Ranoth and Talarath, hoping to mine from their conversation a few precious nuggets about his beloved. Yet despite their promise to restore him to favor in Lamath if he succeeded, the two elders had showed little interest in reestablishing any relationship with him. They’d talked mostly to one another, tolerating Seagryn’s questions and comments but plainly regarding them as interruptions. At the foot of the volcano they’d parted company, Seagryn turning westward and the two clerics traveling back to the sea to rejoin the Paumer House ship that had brought them to this meeting. Before leaving, they’d reaffirmed once more their promise, but Seagryn had seen in their eyes that neither man cared for him. If he succeeded — and Dark had promised he would — he would still remain tainted — a magic user among the pure.

“And how will Elaryl view me, Kerl? Will she smile politely every night at bedtime, struggling to stifle her revulsion?”

Kerl didn’t answer. He just kept stamping forward. The forest around them changed color, growing greener as they climbed from the deciduous growth to the unchanging pines. Seagryn noticed and felt deprived. Fall had always been a time to sprawl across the library window seats and watch as the world danced gracefully by outside. The cold bite in the autumn air tuned his mind to its peak, letting ideas crackle through it like the wind slicing through the colorful leaves. It was not a time to travel, yet he traveled — and not to a place of warmth and stimulation, either, but to some frozen wasteland in the far northwest, where giant beasts with the minds of toddlers bashed their horns together in the snow.

“Elaryl,” Seagryn mumbled aloud. “It’s for Elaryl.” But he’d used that thought too often. This time it didn’t thaw a single frozen bone. “Hold up here, Kerl,” he muttered, and the faithful horse didn’t move another step. Seagryn gingerly lifted his right leg up and pivoted around to glide it over the horse’s back, taking care not to let the raw spot on the inside of his thigh brush the saddle. He slipped to the ground, leaning against Kerl for just a moment to let his feet remember what it felt like to stand. Then he pulled his cloak tighter still and stalked away through the trees, dodging pine needles. He wished he could see something ahead of them other than forest.

Horses’ hooves suddenly pounded the forest floor. He whirled around, half-expecting to see that Kerl’s equine mind had finally snapped and that the crazed animal was determined to trample him into mush. But Kerl stood where Seagryn had left him, gazing back dully.

The hoof beats still came, and a horse at last broke through the pines very close by. “Help me! Seagryn! Help me!” its rider shouted. There was only time for that much before the roan animal shot through the brush on the other side of the glade, carrying the youthful prophet away with it.

“Dark!” Seagryn shouted after the boy, but he did nothing else. He was so shocked that he didn’t know quite what to do.

Other horses, perhaps a dozen, burst into the clearing, their riders all dressed in the red-and-blue livery of Paumer. Obviously in pursuit of the fleeing prophet, none of them took any notice of Seagryn, driving their animals straight past him and back again into the forest.

“Dark!” Seagryn said again, to no one but himself. Then he started to chase the riders on foot. “Kerl!” he cried, and he skidded to a stop on the pine needles and turned to race back to his dispassionate steed. Another thought occurred, and he skidded again, this time winding up on his bottom right under the horse’s nose. “What am I doing?” he pleaded with Kerl. “You’re not as fast as those animals! As a tugolith, I am!” Kerl said nothing, preferring to watch. Seagryn bounded to his feet and changed his shape, then bolted into the forest after Dark’s pursuers.

While the riders left behind them trees bruised but unbowed, only firewood remained where Seagryn passed. One slim sapling, still quivering with relief at having survived the cavalry charge, felt the full impact of a tugolith horn with a full-grown tugolith behind it. The slender tree split right down to its roots. Branches splintered, pine needles flew, and great chunks were gouged from the leafpack wherever Seagryn*s feet hit the ground. His passage was so noisy that he thought the sound alone might scare the riders off Dark’s trail. It didn’t. But the tumult almost prevented him from hearing Dark’s cry.

“Seagryn! Seagryn, up here!”

He didn’t try to stop dead this time. Instead he rounded a rather sizable elm, one of the few in this section of the forest, and trotted back toward the spot where he’d heard that second call. He saw nothing.

“Up here, Seagryn! Look up!”

Seagryn did look up and saw Dark crouching on a branch not far above him. “How did you get up there?”

“I flew!” the boy groused. “Now would you please get under me and let me get down on your forehead? I can guarantee those riders are turning around this very instant!”

Seagryn did as the lad instructed, blinking in pain as Dark’s jump from the tree landed the boy in the middle of one of his eyes. “Careful please,” he grumbled, but the prophet was too hysterical to take much notice.

“That way! That way! Go that way!” Dark shouted. He probably pointed, too, but from where he perched behind Seagryn’s horn the powershaper could see nothing of his gesture.

“What way?” Seagryn demanded. “If you’re going to give orders, be explicit!”

“Right! To the right!”

Seagryn waited no longer. He shot off toward his right, shouting, “Hold on tight — this might be rough going!”

“I couldn’t be
more
certain of that,” Dark mumbled.

Before the full import of the prophet’s words could register upon him Seagryn felt the ground give way beneath his feet. They tumbled headlong into a black chasm.

“If you knew this was coming, I’ll kill you!” Seagryn shouted as they bounced off the walls on the way down. They landed in a remarkably soft pile of soil.

Dark spat dirt from his mouth several times before replying. “Of course I knew it was coming, and you won’t. You’ll be too busy dealing with her.”

“With whom?” Seagryn asked, surprised to hear his human voice and not the bass croaking of his altershape. Without realizing it, he’d taken his human-form again.

“You remember me mentioning a megasin’s cave, and asking me what a megasin was? Well, Seagryn, you’re about to find out.”

“Seagryn? Is that your name?”

The powershaper whirled in the darkness to face the voice, which was very female and very close by. Whoever she was, she smelled wonderful. But why couldn’t he see her? He looked up at the hole they’d fallen through and gasped in astonishment as it closed itself in. “How —”

“It’s my window. Surely a lady can open her own shutters when she chooses? And close them?” He heard the smile behind her words, and it terrified him.

“Dark! Dark, are you there?”

“Oh I’m here all right,” the boy muttered.

“Who is she? What is she? What do I do now?”

“You’re the wizard. Why don’t you think of something for a change?”

Seagryn did. A silver ball of light suddenly danced above their heads; then, just as suddenly, Seagryn doused it. But it had been enough —

“You’ve seen me,” the woman’s voice pouted, only now Seagryn knew this was no woman. What it was he couldn’t guess, but he felt certain that they sat in the dirt in the presence of something both gigantic and exceedingly old — and she didn’t wear her age well at all.

“Run!” Seagryn wailed, and his legs churned soft soil out behind him as he struggled to his feet and sprinted blindly forward. Did a corridor open before him? Or had he just been incredibly lucky in his choice of direction? No matter. “This way!” he shouted to Dark, uncertain if the lad followed, but feeling absolutely no inclination to stop and check. He ran faster and faster, it seemed, although he knew that really wasn’t so. It just seemed so fast, far too fast, since his mind kept reminding him he was apt to crash headlong into rock at any moment.

And he did. But this wasn’t rock. It was soft, and furry, and it smelled so very —

“I didn’t want you to see me like that,” the megasin chided seductively as she enfolded him in her powerful grip and crushed him to her hirsute — whatever.

“Help!” Seagryn yelled. “Dark! Are you there?”

“I’m right here ...” the prophet muttered again. Seagryn didn’t stop to wonder how the boy could have beat him here and not be winded.

“You mudgecurdle! If we ever get out of this place I swear I’m going to swallow you whole!” Then Seagryn fiercely took his altershape, angry at himself that he hadn’t done so immediately. This female monster should already have been splattered against the walls of her own dungeon! Instantly he broke free of her embrace, uttered a most tugolithic bellow, and charged her. He hit her, too ... or thought he did. He couldn’t tell, since she seemed to become totally pliable when he touched her. He rumbled right on through her and ran into the wall beyond.

That rock, too, was pliable, for a moment, at least — long enough for him to imbed his horn into it, right up to his flaring nostrils. Then it turned hard again, and was solid rock. He knew the awful truth even before trying to pull himself free — he was stuck.

“Mmmm!” the megasin purred appreciatively from behind him. Evidently she’d pulled herself together, for she was now grabbing hold of his hindquarters. “You are some hunk of beast!”

“Dark!” the trapped tugolith croaked. “Tell me! What do I do!”

“Why should I help a creature who’s threatened to eat me?”

“Help me!” Seagryn pleaded, and his plaintive tone must have touched the boy’s heart at last, for Dark quietly suggested, “Your human shape has no horn. Try changing back and see if you don’t come free.”

“Oh, no!” the megasin protested. “
Keep
this shape, you magic user! I like it!”

Seagryn needed no further encouragement. With a flick of his imagination, he turned human again, gasping in relief when he came free of both the wall and the megasin’s grip. He whirled around to face the creature, and once again a ball of light blossomed into brilliance above their heads.

“Oww!” she whined. “Would you please put that thing out?”

“Not unless you promise to quit grabbing me!” Seagryn demanded.

“Oh, all right,” she muttered. Then she looked up at him and blinked her eyes flirtatiously. “I look better now, don’t I?”