The Gems of Raga-Tor (Elemental Legends Book 1) (36 page)

“Anya,” Eris said and lightly tapped the door. “May I come in?”

“Go away! You did this to me. I hate you,” she said bitterly, and wouldn’t look at him. She wiped the back of her hand across her cheek.

Eris sighed and entered anyway. He felt strangely compelled to say something to her, but what, exactly, he had no idea. Under the calming influence of the spring, nothing would surprise him.

“Anya,” he repeated as he approached. The blue of her skin was clearly apparent in the strong sunlight. At the moment, it didn’t seem as repulsive as it had before.

“I don’t want to talk to you. Go away. At least the red-faced man was nice to me. Not like you.”

“It doesn’t matter what you think of me or Raga. After tonight, we’re leaving."

“What! And leave me here…alone? With that…that terrifying monster?” Anya asked, raising her tear-stained face to him.

“What would you have me do? Just as my destiny led me here, so has yours. Morengoth is not as frightening as he appears. To me, you are just as much a monster with those wings of yours. You frighten me, you both do for that matter, but you will grow accustomed to him as we have,” Eris said, but not unkindly. He gave her a bit of smile “He’s a gentle, lonely man. All he wants is to share his home and kingdom, what there is of it, with someone. That someone just happens to be you,”

“But my friends won’t be able to find me here,” Anya objected.

“You keep mentioning these friends, but I saw no other platforms in the trees. Just who, or what, are these friends?” he asked.

“The butterflies.”

“Butterflies?”

“Yes. They saved my life once, so now I guard and protect them when they are here. They will never find me so far away,” she said.

That probably explained the wings, but he had no desire to know the whole story. Being reminded that he was the only non-magical one in the group made him uneasy.

“I’m sure that with the passing of winter you and Morengoth will come to know each other, and in the spring he’ll let you return to find them. He already told you that you can bring them here,” Eris said with certainty.

Anya pouted. “And what if he doesn’t?”

“Don’t be foolish. The man already adores you—wings and all.” She gave him a hurt look and he regretted the comment. “Listen, he’s waited three hundred years for you whether you want to believe it or not. Do you think he’ll deny you anything if you make yourself at least a little agreeable?”

“Even give me back my paints?”

“If it were up to me, you’d have to be a lot more agreeable, not just a pretty ornament at my table,” Eris answered. He crossed his arms and raised a brow to her. “I might consider it then, but I’d keep close contact with that dagger.”

“Oh,” Anya murmured and shades other than blue colored her cheeks. “But that would mean—oh no, I couldn’t. I just couldn’t. Please! Please take me home. I don’t want to be here.”

Her blue eyes begged him, but Eris shook his head no and Anya burst into tears.

“By the gods, grow up, will you,” he said and instantly regretted them.
Damn me to the pits.
He quickly turned away from her. The spring’s calming effects were wearing thin.

The fury of Erisa’s condemnation hit him harder than ever. As he had rebelled against the fates with tears and angry curses in Reshan, so did Anya. In a burst of compassion that would be a long time in coming again, Eris turned back and took a dagger from his sash. He slammed it fiercely against the rock mantle of fireplace. The blade shattered and metal shards tinkled on the stone floor.

“Here, take this,” he said and handed her the jeweled hilt. “If, in one year, you find your life so unbearable with Morengoth, then seek out a traveler passing through the forest and give this to him. Instruct him to pass it along to the land of Fana-Fen and leave it at the House of Kievan in the city of Trioss. I suspect that by the end of summer I will be there if my own business ends well. If I'm there and receive it, then I give you my solemn word that I will come and take you back to your side of the forest.” He paused and slid the broken pieces into a little pile with his foot. “But think well before you send it. Morengoth will likely kill me for this treachery and you may not fare any better. That is the best I can do.”

“It will be enough,” Anya said. She wrapped the hilt in a small scarf and put it inside the drawer of the table.

“I believe the others are waiting for us,” Eris said. He held out his arm to her as was proper.

As they traversed the short distance to the room where Morengoth waited, he wondered what in the Seven Hells made him promise such a thing. The spring was compelling and he would be glad when its effects wore off. He didn’t need to make more trouble for himself. On the other hand, the chances of him actually surviving this journey were infinitely small, so it probably didn’t make any difference.

“Ahh, here you are,” Morengoth said and stood to greet Anya.

Raga looked surprised when they entered arm-in-arm and wondered how that came about. Morengoth took Anya’s hand from Eris and kissed it. He seated her first, and then bade Raga and Eris to sit.

“This is a joyous day for me, my friends,” he said. “I'm glad you are here to share it with me. And as we celebrate my good fortune, I wish you every excellent possibility in the completion of your journey.”

Morengoth raised his cup to them and they to him.

It was much later in the evening when Morengoth brought forth the brown, leather pouch that contained Raga’s red gem. Anya had fallen asleep on a small couch that they had moved closer to the fire.

“As I promised, Raga-Tor, here is your gem,” the Dragon King said and handed it to him. “My wish is that you are able to recover the yellow one as well.”

“As is mine,” Raga said, taking the pouch. It felt good to have its reassuring form in his hands once again. It did nothing to spark his powers, but it was back all the same.

“As for you, Eris,” Morengoth continued, “at the end of your journey, the stones will be back with Raga and rightfully so, but I think you are deserving of something for your trouble. I would like you to accept this gift.”

From out of a velvet covering, he brought forth an exquisitely tooled, leather sheath from which he pulled a magnificent sword. The double-edged blade gleamed bright and sharp, and ancient letters and vine work decorated one side. The cross guard was set with an array of sparkling gems and the pommel held a brilliant emerald that reminded him of Raga’s other stone that he had safely tucked away.

Eris was tremendously impressed with the weapon and his violet eyes shone with pleasure.

“I can see by the look on your face that you admire it,” Morengoth said with a pleased smile. He laid the blade across his forearm with the pommel toward Eris for him to grasp.

“It’s magnificent,” Eris said. He marveled at the perfection of its craftsmanship. Its length and balance suited him as if it had been made for him. It moved easily in his grip and already felt a part of him. “It’s been a very long time since I’ve seen craftsmanship such as this. Much less my being able to afford and own such a weapon.”

“Then I am glad it pleases you, for you have done me a great service. Should I ever need help again, it is only right that one such as you serves me. In your hand is the sword of the last, valiant Tamori warrior. May you serve each other well,” Morengoth said.

“You honor me greatly, Lord Morengoth,” Eris said somberly, with sincere modesty, and inclined his head.

Yet somewhere in a dark corner of his conscience, he felt like a traitor for his hasty promise to a girl he barely knew.

It was three days since Eris and Raga took their leave of Morengoth and his long-promised companion, Anya. They stayed two weeks longer than planned as a series of fierce snowstorms kept them penned inside the Tamori caverns. By the time they left, Anya’s constant flow of tears had ceased and she was more accepting of her new surroundings. To pass the time, Raga taught them how to play a game he had seen no culture play in at least a millennium.

Most of the time, Eris kept to himself and struggled with the persistent presence of Erisa. Unlike what happened to him in Reshan, Morengoth proved he was a man of honor and respect where Anya was concerned. Little by little he allowed her time to grow accustomed to him, though Eris plainly saw those moments of struggle when he knew Morengoth wanted nothing more than to kiss her fragile beauty and feel her softness next to him. In those same moments, he had to excuse himself lest he think similar thoughts and find himself transformed into Erisa once more.

At their departure, Morengoth had provisioned them well for the long ride to the central plain of the Land of the Night Vales where he said they might find the avatar of his god, Tas-Moren. It made no sense to Eris that the avatar wouldn’t be found within Tamori territory, but when did anything concerning gods or sorcerers make any sense at all.

The weather was cool and the snow line had receded on the afternoon of the day before. It would eventually catch up to them again as winter deepened. Eris wanted to be finished with this business before then and looked forward to finding work and profit in the southern lands. The horses were rested and high-spirited from their stay in Morengoth’s stables, and given their heads, the leagues flew by almost without notice.

Toward sunset on the fourth day the horses were content to walk steadily and Eris contented himself with half a flagon of Morengoth’s excellent wine.

“Raga, why do I have the uneasy feeling that you know just exactly where we’re going?” Eris asked offhandedly. From the corner of his eye, he saw Raga stiffen slightly. That, he smiled inwardly, was all the affirmation he needed.

“I don’t have any more idea about where we are going than you do. Morengoth said to follow this road and the way would be shown to us. The avatar guards Tas-Moren’s sacred portal somewhere in this region, but I don’t know where it is, exactly,” Raga said.

“Yes, you do.”

“If I knew, I would tell you.”

“You know,” Eris looked at him with a raised brow, “you can’t keep everything from me anymore.”

Raga almost felt those dark-violet eyes boring holes into his face. At the same time, he felt a tremor along the mind-bond that had thus far shown no sign of weakening. Tenuously, Raga pushed back and found the barrier he had encountered earlier. He knew there was no chance of getting past that unless he wanted to risk some sort of damage to one or both of them.

“Unfortunately, I can’t hear everything even if you don’t shield yourself very well,” Eris said, feeling Raga’s slight presence.

“You’re treading on dangerous ground. I've told you this before. Surely you haven’t forgotten,” Raga said, displeased. But even more disturbing was that he didn’t know how far Eris was able to push into his mind or how much force he could exert and control. Given Eris’ dislike of all things elemental, he never expected him to explore this magic so thoroughly.

“I only attempt what I glean from you. Most of the time your mind is as open as the countryside around us,” Eris said.

Raga scratched his wooly head and turned away from Eris with a frown. He was playing games with him again and he didn’t like it one bit. With his powers rapidly dissipating, Raga, for once in his long existence, actually felt threatened, perhaps even in danger. There was bold challenge in what Eris was doing and if he didn’t understand him before, he certainly didn’t now.

“These games of yours really puzzle me,” Raga said. Eris cast him a sidelong glance, but said nothing. “I don’t understand. You abhor sorcery in any form, even gentle Anya, yet you devour every piece of information about this link as you can. Would you mind explaining this contradiction to me?”

“It’s all the game of survival. Know your enemy as well as yourself and half the battle is won,” Eris answered coolly.

Raga’s voice was weary and his shoulders slumped. “So, we’re back to enemies again, are we?”

“That’s entirely up to you, not me. You won’t tell me where we're going, so as far as I’m concerned, yes.” He swallowed down the last of the wine and looked at Raga. “You want my trust, but you won’t earn it. Then, when I do take the risk and trust you, I’m the one who pays for it. I heard you tell Morengoth not to tell me where we're headed through the link. What do you expect me to think?”

“Did you ever think that maybe I did it for your own good?”

“Not for a sure bet.”

“Well, I did.”

“There. You’ve admitted it. Now tell me where we’re going or you can go the rest of the way by yourself.”

Raga sighed tiredly and slumped down even farther. He dropped the reins and rubbed both hands across his cheeks then circled his temples with his fingers. “When will you learn to stop while you’re ahead of the game?” He took a deep breath, sat up straight and said bluntly, “We’re headed for the Red Vale.”

“What?” Eris' horse snorted when he pulled in hard on the reins and stopped the animal. “What did you say?”

“I said we’re headed for the Red Vale.” Raga halted his mount and turned in the saddle to look back. Eris stared at him with a look of incredulity… and something else.

“You’re damned crazy, sorcerer,” Eris said angrily. “There are some things I just won’t do and going there is one of them. There’s nothing in this world that could make me ride within a hundred leagues of that place. Or are you telling tales again?”

“Just where do you think the avatar of a god would be? In some farmer’s wheat field?”

“Then you’ll have to go by yourself, because I’m not. Do you understand?” Eris dismounted abruptly. “I’m not about to go in there and get blasted through the universe as sport for some of your hellish demon friends.”

“I never said I liked demons. Besides, there is no way for you to get blasted anywhere,” Raga assured. “You could get lost for a century or two before finding your way out. You might get sucked into another dimension or maybe fall into a whirling vortex, but I’ve never heard of anyone getting blasted, exactly.”

“Raga-Tor, damn you, don’t make fun of me like this or I swear you’ll never see the Vale again. Go on. Leave me be." Eris wiped a sleeve across his upper lip and there was an uncharacteristic trembling of his hand. Beads of sweat suddenly glistened on his forehead and a sense of panic flared around him. “Go on, leave!” he insisted with a strange sense of urgency. He suddenly swatted the rump of his horse and sent it into the field to graze.