The Gems of Raga-Tor (Elemental Legends Book 1) (32 page)

“What would happen if you did?”

“I don’t know. Though I suspect it wouldn’t bother you any.”

“Not necessarily. A diminishing of either of us is not a good thing if we are going to complete this.”

“Hmmph,” Raga snorted. “At least we agree on that minimal point.” He rubbed his hands briskly against his arms to warm them. “This kind of frightens me in a way and asking such a question of my own kind would make me a donkey’s ass for a long time. You know, I’ve never really felt fear before. Panic, yes, when Charra-Tir first stole my stones, but realizing I still had power calmed me. I’m beginning to understand this word and I don’t like it. We still have a long road ahead of us.”

Eris found Morengoth had put his small daggers in his pack as well and began placing them about himself. “Fear is a dangerous thing to have possess you. Cautious anticipation, wariness before battle, those are useful things, but fear can destroy you. It can make you freeze in battle, or hesitate to do the one thing that could save your life, or that of your men.”

“Men fear many things, do they not?” Raga asked.

“You know they do. You've been the cause of it many times over the course of your long years,” Eris said, casting a knowing look in the sorcerer’s direction. “I don’t know why you let it worry you. Without a talisman, or binding spell, I don’t think a mortal can actually harm you. Besides, even now, the hand of fate stirs the wariness in my gut. Somehow, you’ll get the yellow gem back, and soon you’ll have the red one. I would think that would give you some support.”

“Does this mean you won’t make a fuss if I wear it on my belt again?” Raga asked.

“I won’t like it, but I still have the green one. Besides, I’d rather not see you explode into a fireball or evaporate in a black wisp of smoke,” Eris answered.

Raga’s face appeared shadowed as if a cloud had passed overhead and just as quickly brightened.

“Then, given your counsel, does this mean you’re starting to finally think of me as an ally rather than your enemy?” Raga asked, trying to hide the hope in his voice.

“No. I just don’t want any more unexpected displays of magic,” Eris answered.

His voice was so unemotional, so flat, that Raga didn’t know if he was telling the truth or not. The mind bond provided no insight either as Eris’ thoughts were safely nestled behind a protective barrier that surprised Raga. He wondered how it had come to be and whether Eris was conscious of it or not. It gave him something to dwell on as their trek wore on and Eris was more interested in looking for trail signs than keeping up a conversation.

“This must be the bridge Morengoth spoke of,” Eris said and reined in his mount. “Look, over there. The cliff face slopes off sharply. That must be where the cave is.”

Raga breathed in the frosty air and shook off the daze that had settled over him. He turned to look back at the distance they had come and realized it was considerable, and so was the mountain.

“Do you suppose the whole length of this mountain was hollowed out and used by the Tamori?” Raga asked.

“I would imagine so,” Eris replied. “Even taking into account the exaggeration in the stories I’ve heard, there were probably a fair number of them.”

“That would be quite an engineering feat if they did,” Raga said. His mind marveled at the thought and decided he would like to see it if they had. He wondered what sorts of things might be found in a long-forgotten room or passageway.

Eris clicked his tongue and guided his horse a little closer to the bridge. He saw that the forest in front of them thinned out a bit and the land sloped rapidly downward into a marshy area, which steamed as the sun heated the shallow water. The water rushing beneath the bridge made happy sounds as it was not yet frozen by winter’s hard freeze. To their right, the ancient forest grew thick and dark.

“I think we may have come too far. We’ve ridden for the better part of the morning and I don’t think anyone’s voice could travel such a distance. Parts of this forest are so dense that the sound would be trapped,” Raga observed.

“I won’t argue that, but I haven’t seen any signs, other than those of animals, in the distance we’ve come. And I’m sure the sound came from this direction,” Eris said.

“Really? What animals? I didn’t see anything,” Raga said.

Eris smiled and shook his head as he dismounted.

“I don’t think you’ve ever been hunting. Otherwise, you would have seen those long, sloppy rabbit tracks. Tree bark and small branches stripped by deer not too long ago. Not to mention the tracks of pack animals that crisscrossed our path several times,” he answered.

“What kind of pack animals?” Raga asked, clambering down from his saddle.

“Wolves most likely.”

“Wolves,” Raga mumbled. He nervously eyed the thick undergrowth that closed them in on three sides. Fire was the best way to stave off a wolf pack and he doubted he had any left. “Do you think it’s safe to leave the horses here with wolves on the prowl?” he asked as he watched Eris loop his horse’s reins around a weathered log that made up the railing of the little bridge.

Eris turned and gave him a wicked grin. Raga knew he had just been made a fool.

“No wolves, just a pack of wild pigs,” Eris smirked.

“Hmmph. I still think we’ve come too far. No voice can carry this distance,” he grumbled.

“You didn’t hear that song like I did. I've never heard a voice like that. Either we are looking for a spirit or something not quite natural. That should make you feel at home on this hunt,” Eris said. A sense of dread quivered in his stomach as he spoke the words.

He chided himself for the fear. Having come this many days and leagues with Raga, his fear of sorcery should have begun to fade, but it hadn’t. In some ways, Raga’s presence continued to remind him of memories he sought to forget. The sorcerer’s voice interrupted his thoughts.

“I would say we elementals are far more natural than men as we are one substance rather than a jumble of many,” Raga said as he tethered his horse to the railing.

“All I know is that there are more jumbled things in the world than there are of you and my instincts tell me there is a person of sorts out here,” Eris said. He crossed the bridge and paused by a fallen log. He kicked off most of the snow and used his hands to brush off the rest before sitting down.

“What are you doing?” Raga asked.

“Come over here and be quiet. Here, sit on this log,” Eris said, and brushed more snow from the log. “The day has turned out to be quite pleasant. If you had a habit of singing only in winter, wouldn’t a day like this make you want to sing?”

“I suppose.” Raga shrugged and grunted as he sat down for a long, monotonous wait.

Toward the middle of the afternoon, Eris suddenly sat up straight and cocked his head to one side. Feeling Eris move beside him, Raga roused from his half sleep. He would have spoken, but Eris waved him to silence. Eventually, he heard what Eris heard.

It wasn’t a song, but more like humming that stopped and started in unconnected strains as though the person was doing something else that distracted attention away from the song.

Eris listened carefully until he knew exactly from which direction the song came. He leaned toward Raga and whispered, “If you think you can be quiet, come. Otherwise, stay here and wait.

“I’ll come.”

“Fine, but stay behind me and don’t do anything unless I tell you,” Eris warned. He rose quietly and pulled the white, fur hood over his dark head. Raga did likewise and they melted into the whiteness around them.

Eris moved with near silence over the snow as a flurry of powder driven by a gust of wind. Raga, to Eris’ annoyance, wasn’t quiet as his massive bulk made the snow squeak beneath the heavy tread of his footsteps. Eris turned and glared at him over his shoulder. Raga slowed his pace and tried to be quiet, meanwhile Eris got farther and farther ahead of him and blended into a snow bank so well that he almost tripped over him.

With a hushed curse, Eris reached up and pulled Raga down by a handful of fur.

“Pay attention, will you,” he whispered at him. “Look, over by that tree.”

Raga regained his balance and looked to where Eris pointed.

“She looks ordinary from here,” Raga whispered.

In a small glade, they saw a woman swathed in fur much like their own. A supple, fawn-colored boot encased a slim ankle that stuck out from the bottom of her cloak. She was golden haired and thin, wispy strands crept out from beneath her collar to lie in disarray around her shoulders. They couldn’t see her face, but now and then her hand would appear and in it was what appeared to be a small brush. With delicate care, she seemed to be painting or brushing some substance onto the tree trunk she faced.

Eris saw no sign of any other person, or structure that would make him think she was not alone. He smiled a bit to himself. This was turning out to be a simple task for once.

“I’ll go around to the other side of the glade and grab her from behind. That way she won’t have a chance of getting away,” Eris whispered.

“That’s a horrid thing to do. You could frighten her to death doing that,” Raga said, feeling rather taken aback by Eris’ plan. “Have a little courtesy will you. Besides, how do you know she’s the right one?”

“Do you see anyone else? Besides, had you heard her singing, you would hear the similarity in her humming. Why am I even explaining myself to you? Why would any woman be sitting out here alone in the middle of nowhere painting the gods-only-know-what on a tree if she isn’t the one? She’s probably as crazed as you are,” Eris said annoyed.

“I still don’t think grabbing her from behind is the right thing to do,” Raga insisted. “Let me try to talk to her.”

Eris glared at Raga with exasperation.

“What is that going to do, but waste time? She’s going to sense us being here any time now if she doesn’t hear you first,” Eris said.

“If she won’t come with me, then we’ll do it your way. Just let me try,” Raga said and raised his eyebrows expectantly.

Eris wrinkled his face in irritation, then pulled back a branch and made a motion for Raga to go forward. Raga gave him a big smile and pat on the shoulder as he passed through the opening. Eris shook his head and rubbed a hand across his forehead as Raga walked, squeaking, toward the girl.

“Excuse me, my lady,” Raga said as he approached.

Startled, the girl leaped from her seat and turned to face him with wide, frightened eyes. She clutched her cloak tight around and her eyes darted quickly from side to side looking for anyone else who might have come upon her.

“I didn’t mean to frighten you. Do you understand what I am saying to you?” Raga asked, kindly, and didn’t go any closer.

While waiting for her to answer, Raga paused to marvel at her strange appearance. He wondered how many other exotic creatures were hidden within the Moren Forest and called it home.

The girl’s hair was long with bangs that were cut square and lay flat against her forehead. Her skin was the rich, golden color of honey, and in the sunlight filtering through the trees, Raga was sure that it shimmered with an iridescent shade of blue. Not so deep a color as to be shocking, but just enough to intrigue. Her eyes were blue and no white shone around the iris. It was as though she were a living piece of amber with sapphires for eyes.

“Please, I’m not going to hurt you. Do you understand what I’m saying to you?” he asked again.

With a frightened cry that had a similar musical quality to it, the girl suddenly turned and fled with Raga not far behind. She had only gone a dozen paces, when the snow rose up before her and unable to stop, she rushed straight into Eris’ grasp. His sudden appearance startled even Raga, who slipped to a halt. Eris snarled in sudden pain as the girl twisted out of his grasp and ran for the trees.

“Damned wench!” Eris cursed as he pulled a thin, silver dagger from the outside of his thigh. Bright drops of blood stained the snow pink and habit made him quickly raise the weapon to hurl it at her. Just as suddenly Morengoth’s words came to mind as did the words of his promise. He had to kill, not maim or injure. The Dragon King would flay him alive or worse, if he injured his long-awaited mate; if that was who the fleeing vixen turned out to be.

“Eris, are you all right?” Raga asked, hurrying toward him, but Eris had already broken into a limping run.
Maybe it’s better not to catch up too fast anyway
. The sounds of Eris’ muttered oaths drifted back to him.

The wound wasn’t serious, but Eris felt blood trickle down his leg and hot stabs of pain shot up his thigh as he pressed the lacerated muscle into action. Slowly, he gained ground on her, but not before being surprised at her speed, which was uncommon for a girl or woman. Having seen her but briefly, he wasn’t sure which he was chasing.

The pain turned to a dull ache as his stride lengthened and he gained ground on her. Twice his fingers touched her furry cape before he was able to make a leaping lunge and tackle her to the ground. As he grabbed the fur and pulled, he grunted and landed alone in a soggy pile of slush. The girl once again slipped away from his grasp. He looked up with a mud-splattered face. The chill of unexpected sorcery swept through him and made him shiver.

The girl had wings! They were small and crystal-clear like pure glass, except where small spots of brilliant color decorated them. The damned girl had wings! Eris pounded his fist into the warm pile of her cloak and got back on his feet. He should have known from that this wasn’t going to be a simple matter. It never was. He turned to look for Raga, but the sorcerer was still too far behind to be of any help.

He turned back in time to see the girl stop abruptly next to a tree. She was clad only in boots that came half way up her calves, and a plain tunic of the same leather. With hurried motions, she brushed something onto the rough bark.

“What in the Seven Hells is she doing?” Eris muttered and resumed the chase. Heavy breathing and heavier footsteps told him Raga was closing the distance between them, and then the forest was suddenly strangely silent. Birds stopped twittering and even the rushing sounds of the breeze through the branches ceased. The prickle of sorcery flared in him.