The Gems of Raga-Tor (Elemental Legends Book 1) (48 page)

“Raga, is case you haven’t noticed, those are pretty big waves you’re asking me to
wade
through, to say nothing of how potentially slippery that rock is, volcanic or not. Besides, the light is nearly gone.” He wasn’t favoring Raga’s plan at all and in their time together, the sorcerer’s plans always meant disaster for him. “One slip and who knows where I’ll end up. Drowned at the bottom or dragged out to sea by the currents. I’m going to freeze out there.”

“Nothing without a price seems to be the way of this game with us. I don’t see any other way to do this and not get one or the other of us seriously trapped, or you killed, by one of her wild spells. I’m more than willing to listen to any plan you might have,” Raga said.

“The last plan I had obviously didn’t work very well,” Eris grumbled and grabbed the power staff away from Raga.

“Now listen, this is important. When you’re on that rock and we have Charra-Tir trapped in my spell, you must demand that she release you. She won’t, of course, and that’s when you use that mud stone of yours and just briefly touch the barrier that we are going to create, but just a touch, do you understand?” Raga asked, looking into Eris’ face. He nodded that he understood.

“I thought we weren’t to use these things, though? Won’t we violate the rules and start this cycle all over again?” Eris asked, concerned. He certainly didn’t want to spend another year the way he had spent this one.

“That’s why I said a touch, just the briefest touch. She’ll feel it and release you,” Raga said and gave him a reassuring slap on the back. “Now, just don’t fall in the water. Go on, the storm is gaining strength and the leaves will start to flow in.”

“Wait, look over there. Aren’t those her maidens?” Eris asked, pointing toward the base of the keep.

A group of eight or ten maids dressed in flowing gowns walked huddled together against the cold and rain as they came out onto the beach. Each had a large basket looped over her arm.

“One glimpse of me and one of them will go back and tell the witch, then we’ll have trouble. Or rather, I’ll have trouble, because she’ll turn her venom on me and I’ll be powerless to stop her just like the last time,” Eris said angrily.

“Don’t worry,” Raga said and Eris gave him an all-too-familiar glare. “Really, don’t worry. I won’t let her get you. Besides, they won’t dare interrupt her during her little ceremony.”

“I don’t know how this is going to work. I’m already outnumbered ten to one,” Eris grumbled. The thought of being surrounded again by these women wasn’t a pleasant thought. At least they weren’t armed with spears this time.

“By the gods, Eris, it’s only a group of maids, not warriors. Certainly nothing like the five phantom warriors you took down yesterday. I think you can handle them,” Raga said, but Eris remained skeptical. “Weak, young girls, that’s all they are.”

Eris heard what he said, but that part of him that was Erisa suddenly became powerful in his mind and made him hesitate. Erisa took great offense to the maids being called weak and insignificant. His thoughts even took him so far as to wonder and almost worry whether Charra-Tir would come back someday from Reshan. He had enslaved Anya and now he was going to do it again. His hesitancy made him feel more than foolish, but Erisa was indignant and froze him in place.

Raga finally understood his hesitation.

“Get the woman out of your mind. Now is not the time for you to get stubborn on me. As much as I’d like to see Erisa again, it’s time she went,” Raga said, but still Eris hesitated. “Listen, you like competition, hate to lose, so make sure you deaden more of those leaves than they can pick up."

Raga reached back and pulled an arrow from the quiver and laid it against the bowstring.

“Where are you going?” Eris demanded.

His voice had an odd timbre and Raga knew the power of Erisa, for whatever reason, was growing within.

“To wait in the fire pit, where else?” Raga answered. His words drifted back to Eris in a hiss as Raga shot toward the keep and disappeared down one of the chimneys.

Eris stared after him furiously. Raga had left him out in the open and vulnerable to the witch’s spells should she see him, and of course she would as he destroyed her seaweed. He looked back at the girls heading for the water and felt sorry for them. They shivered against the cold and the rain had soaked their filmy gowns making them cling to their bodies.

“Why should I feel sorry for them?” Eris suddenly muttered and pushed Erisa away. “I offered them an escape, yet they stay. To Riza’s hell with them.”

Like an escaped fury from the realm of clouds and mist, Eris apeared over the top of the hill and stomped through the wet sand toward the water. Charra-Tir’s maids caught sight of him and stared, awed and a little frightened, at the mighty titan that strode toward them. In one hand he held a staff with a gently glowing gem, while the other hand untied the cloak from around his neck. A fierce gust of wind tore it from his shoulders to reveal a man of massive form and power. His long raven locks blew back from his face to reveal the firm set of his jaw. The glare in his eyes challenged them to stop him. He stopped at the water’s edge and stood with a balled fist resting against one hip. At the other hip hung a great sword with an elegantly jeweled hilt. He ignored the questions hesitantly asked as well as the insults hurled at him by one who remembered him. He had come for revenge. He had come to win.

The intensity of the storm pitched higher and from the bowels of the sea the shimmering, slimy leaves began to rise. Once again, and he hoped for the last time, he shoved the doubts of Erisa out of his mind. He charged into the water to chase down the glowing seaweed. He found cruel delight in watching the leaves hiss and turn black at the touch of the staff. He refused to hear the voices of the maids, who yelled and shrieked, threatened and pleaded with him to stop his methodical destruction of the precious leaves.

“Out of the way, wench!” Eris roared over the howl of the wind. His driving legs powered him through the churning surf toward a large clump of leaves still attached to a long piece of vine.

The girl to whom he shouted continued to run ahead of him, while three others, who were decidedly braver than the rest, jumped against him. They pulled at his clothes and dug their fingers mercilessly into his flesh. Everywhere he felt tiny stings as they peeled open his flesh and salt water mixed with traces of blood. Slim fingers entwined themselves into the tangles of his hair and pulled hard. Eris fought against them and the outgoing currents to keep his balance. A powerful incoming wave shifted the sand beneath his feet and forced them all down into the surf. The maids were yanked from his shoulders and tumbled head over heels to the beach, while he came up from the gritty bottom with a mouthful of sandy water. He spat the water and shouted with triumph.

For once the punishment was worth the reward as the out-flowing water dragged the glowing vine straight at him. He reached out with the staff and the vine squealed with a sickening sound as it withered and the light faded to black. The girls sprawled on the beach looked devastated by its loss.

“Here!” Eris shouted to them as he picked up the black, rubbery tangle and heaved it at them. “Take that to your mistress!”

The girls shrieked when the black, pulpy mass landed at their feet with a slurpy sound and the next wave wrapped it around their pale, bare legs.

Eris charged off again, and though he was freezing and could barely feel his cold feet trudging through the surf, he felt incredibly alive, even more so than the day before in the Vale when he had scored his greatest victory against Raga’s fighters. His strength seemed endless and untiring as he ran this way and that through the powerful tugging surf as he chased down glowing shapes on a darkening sea. He found challenge and felt exhilaration as he faced the storm. And, he thought, as he paused to look for more leaves, a little foolish, a little childish, as he chased something that seemed so trivial.

In a short time, Charra-Tir’s maids were exhausted. They were too cold and didn’t have the strength or endurance to keep up with Eris’ wild charges at them, nor could they forage in the deeper water for leaves as he did. The quantity of leaves washing to shore diminished rapidly and all but two of the girls gave up the chase and huddled on the beach for warmth and comfort. The one who recognized him and one other tried to collect the bounty before Eris came upon them shouting threats and curses and they fled his wrath. So far he had only pushed them aside, but they were ever wary of the long sword strapped to his waist.

While Eris found an odd joy in his frenzied sport, Raga retained his elemental form and appeared as just another flame, burning perhaps a little brighter, in the sorceress’ fire pit.

Raga saw her standing out on her balcony high above the tempest that raged below the strong walls of her fortress. Her deep-blue eyes were closed against the black of the storm and her bare white arms were raised rigidly at her sides with palms up and open to the sky. Her gown, the color of an azure sea, whipped around her slender legs.

Not much of a shape, Raga mused, as he watched the wind press the fabric against the rigid contour of her body.
No, not very attractive at all
. Raga realized he was comparing her to the power of her own curse on Eris.
Well, nothing could better that
. The flame that he was burned just a little brighter.

The brief moment of weakness was approaching and Raga called to Eris though the mind bond.

“Eris!”
He had to repeat a little more forcefully. He wondered what was happening down on the beach as he sensed the storm’s wild fury had unleashed something equally wild in him. Bits and pieces of that demon mostly likely, Raga thought.
“Eris, calm down. Listen to me! Start climbing on those rocks. Do you hear me?”

“Yes, Raga, I hear you, but not very well. I’m not far from the rocks. Send your message louder the next time.”
Eris sent back as ear-splitting thunder crashed overhead. “I’m going to drown out here,” he muttered as the shallow water he had been running through began to deepen and the currents tugged harder. Without warning, the bottom fell away and he nearly dropped the staff as he was pounded beneath the surface. The outgoing currents tugged strongly at him and the waves rolling overhead only pushed him deeper into the black, cold water.

With his air supply nearly depleted, Eris thrust the blunt end of the staff downward in hopes of finding the shallower bottom. The staff sunk into the sand like an anchor and stopped his outward drift. He pulled against the staff and kicked his feet, driving himself back toward the surface. The last of his air bubbled out as the staff left the bottom and he struggled upward. He gasped and sputtered as his head broke through the surface. His lungs filled with icy wind and he coughed out salt water.

Quickly, before the next wave rolled in, his empty hand reached up and caught hold of an indentation in the volcanic rock. When the next wave rolled in, he used its force to propel him onto the rock's rough, jagged surface. Ever vigilant, he paused and crouched down against oncoming waves, then climbed quickly higher and higher until he dared go no further for fear of losing the precarious foothold he had.

“I’m ready, sorcerer.”
Deep coughs wracked him as he hardly knew whether wind or water would fill his next breath.

“Good. It’s almost time. What happened out there? I felt you panic.”

He wiped gritty brine from his eyes. “
Nothing to worry about.
”

The freezing wind howled as it blew through the jags and crevices of the cliffs on which Charra-Tir’s fortress was built. Appearing high on the dark mass of rocky walls, a solitary light shone from a tower window. The light was unnaturally bright and was the only one for leagues in either direction, except for the lightning bolts that tore free from the cloud-shrouded sky. During one particularly bright flash, Eris realized the dark spot in the bright light coming from the window was the sorceress’ silhouette.

The sight of her and the fact that he was totally out in the open against her, made his stomach tighten. In seemed that wave after endless wave broke over the rocks as he stood in tense anticipation. From the pouch on his belt, he pulled out the earth demon’s taliman and wrapped its leather thong around his hand. Finally, through the turbulence of the storm, he heard Raga urging him to renounce his curse.

Holding the staff firmly before him as a defense against further evil, Eris stood tall and wrapped his other arm around a sturdy, rock spire for support.

“Charra-Tir!” he shouted forcefully. A startled tremor coursed though him as his voice thundered out above the din of the storm. “I am Eris Pann and I demand you release me from your spell. A year I have done your penance, suffered your curse. It’s enough. Do you hear, witch? I will be free!”

Lighting flashed and Eris saw the shape of her silhouette change as she leaned forward to clutch the balcony’s cold, wet railing. Who was it that dared to challenge her power? Thunder crashed and streaks of lightning flowed through the clouds illuminating the black sea, turning it a faint shade of green. Standing defiant in the middle of the storm, commanding her to know him, was a man of mighty strength and bold audacity holding before him a faintly glowing talisman.

“How dare you try to command me!” she shouted. Her voice shrieked above the wail of the wind.

Raga materialized rapidly behind the sorceress’ rigid, angry form. He held his bow lengthwise in front of him. Two streaks, one yellow, the other red, shot out from the ends of the bow and raced through the blackness to join with their brother stone atop the crooked staff. A thick band of yellow-green light filled the scribed triangle. The falling rain hissed and steamed as it fell against the light of fire.

The rising vapor quickly obscured Eris’ sight of the lighted window, but brightened the churning sea beneath his feet. He shivered at the sight of the sorcery and him an integral part. The hissing, glowing vapors, whirled into obscene shapes by the wind, served to churn the bile in his gut and he fought against the rise of the demon dream.