Song of the Dragon

“I know that place well,” Jugar said. “There are friendly caverns not far from the gallant-if ultimately tragic-marshaling fields through which we have been touring. It should provide us respite and, might I add, comparative safety for a time. I might even be persuaded to perform one of my more cheery and delightsome tales, if it would help.”

“It might,” Drakis said as he once again surveyed the gore-laden field of fallen warriors, searching for a path through the piles of dead. He reached back for Mala’s hand. She clasped his quickly. “Listen, there are field packs everywhere. . and no one here is going to ever need them again. Everyone keep an eye out for a pack-the more provisions the better-and follow my steps. Let’s go.”

They alone moved. Globe-torches lay scattered on the ground illuminating ghastly tableaus of carnage, death, blood, and gore.

Drakis trod carefully among the dead, dreading what his tentative next footfall would find. He could see the fold portal on the far side of the field around the edge of a small knoll. If they could somehow manage to keep their sanity until then. .

“DRAKIS!”

He froze. The sound had come from the top of the knoll.

A single figure struggled to its feet at the crest of the small mound. A globe-torch at its feet threw the ghastly, blood-coated figure into stark relief. As the hideous form stood shaking, it raised its hand above its head, clutching a circular band in its hand. It was human in form and size, but it was otherwise difficult to distinguish its features. The figure’s face was swollen and its hair torn away from one side, but the voice could not be mistaken.

“Vashkar,” Drakis murmured, barely believing the name that fell from his lips. He let go of Mala’s hand, gesturing for her to stay at the base of the knoll, uncertain about his former comrade.

The former Cohort leader swayed slightly as he arched his back and howled at the stars overhead. “We’re free, now, aren’t we? Free!”

“Yes,” Drakis responded, as he moved cautiously up the slope. His footing was slick and squishy. He dared not look down, keeping his eyes on his former brother in arms. “We’re free after all, Vashkar.”

Vashkar’s eyes shone white all around the wide-open irises of his eyes. “We’ve showed them, Drakis! They weren’t expecting us to do it, but we did!”

“That’s right,” Drakis said calmly as he took another step up the slope. “Come with us, and everything will be all right.”

“I have it!” Vashkar giggled through the foam at his mouth. “The dwarven crown! I took it! Now Master will be so pleased. We’ll be able to buy anything, Drakis! Imagine it. . anything we want!”

Drakis took another step, but his mind was churning. The dwarven crown! He must have taken it while it was still in transit to House Tajeran. Maybe they could go back. . barter the crown for their freedom. Maybe they could. .

“Maybe he’ll give me back my sons that he sold, eh, Drakis?” Vashkar grinned. “I didn’t remember them, Drakis, but I do now. I can see them both screaming at the slaver as he dragged them away. Such fighters! That slaver nearly clubbed one of them senseless he put up such a fight-and him only eight or so years along. What good boys! Surely old Timuran will give me my sons back for a dwarven crown!”

Drakis stopped. He was finding it hard to breathe. He glanced down the slope and saw the others had stopped, too, transfixed by the terrible image at the crest of the hill.

“No, no. . I’ve got it!” Vashkar nodded as his eyes darted from side to side. “Maybe he can return my daughter. She had gone lame on the march to the Provinces. You should have seen her before, but she was always such a delicate flower.”

Drakis took another step. “Please, Vaskhar. .”

The blood-soaked warrior suddenly sat down, his weight pressing down on the chest of a fallen manticore, forcing blood out of a gaping wound. Vashkar took no notice, holding the crown in front of him with both hands as he spoke. “I tried to carry her, but Timuran caught on that she was lame. He had me butcher her right there by the side of the road. Is she worth a crown, Drakis? Could it buy back her breath? I felt it leave her body.”

“I–I don’t know,” Drakis said softly.

“What do you think, Drakis?” Vashkar said, as he looked up with pleading eyes. “Do you think he will give me back my soul?”

He held the broken, bloody metal ring above his head.

Drakis took in a long, deep breath.

It was not the crown at all, he realized. It was a jagged-edged, metal hoop torn from a small cask. It was cut in places, slivers of metal sticking out from it.

Worthless.

“Come with me, Vashkar,” Drakis said, extending his hand. “We’ll take care of you. Figure this out. .”

“THIEF!” Vashkar screamed, leaping to his feet with unholy speed, his hand reaching at once for the hilt of his blade. “You can’t have it! It’s mine! My life! Mine!”

Drakis barely managed to avoid the blow, leaping to the side. He rolled, his body flopping over the dead, their filth covering him. Drakis tried to regain his footing, but Vashkar’s blade flashed in the light of the globe-torch. and Drakis could only scramble out of the way again. His hands reached down to stop his fall, sliding among the bodies, scraping against the broken armor. . a small dagger handle suddenly pressing against his palm.

Vashkar screamed above him, raising his sword as he ran wild-eyed across the slain.

Drakis leaped toward the insane warrior, connecting so hard that it knocked the wind from his lungs, yet he held fast to the slick grip of the dagger, pressing it upward into Vashkar’s ribs.

Both warriors collapsus atop the knoll. Drakis rolled away, pulling the dagger free but his hand was caught beneath the gasping human’s head. He tried to pull away, but Vashkar reached across with his left hand, gripping Drakis at the back of the neck and pulling him toward himself.

“Please,” Vashkar wheezed, his lungs filling quickly from the wound. “Please, Drakis, don’t take it from me! Please. . my sons. .”

Drakis grimaced, then held still. His face was inches away from the dying man. “As you will,” Drakis said. “You may keep it. . for your sons.”

“And my daughter. .”

“Surely,” Drakis looked away as he spoke. “Surely for your daughter.”

Vashkar grinned, his teeth filling with his own blood. Then his chest fell one last time, and he was still.

Drakis pushed the body away from him and stood, alone, at the crest of the knoll. The silence was complete and suddenly unbearable.

“What are you staring at,” he yelled at his companions. “Everyone pick up a field pack and let’s get through that portal now. We’ve got a long way to go.”

“It’s quiet, and the dead will not trouble us,” Ethis suggested. “We could rest here a while.”

“No,” Drakis spoke, the words sticking in his dry throat. “No one will ever rest here again.”

CHAPTER 21

The Hunt

“Two days!” Soen seethed. “Two days we’ve been going in the opposite direction of these bolters, we finally are on their trail and you want us to wait?”

The Master Iblisi stood to the side of the fold platform, his face inches from Jukung’s long nose. His two Codexia stood to the side, their hands folded inside the sleeves of their robes, hoods drawn over their heads, leaving their faces in shadow from the late morning sun. Each watched the scene with detached amusement. Hazing the younger members of the Order was an old and established pastime. . but it could be a dangerous game when played with one of the Keeper’s favorites.

Jukung blanched but did not back down. He had to give the young Assesia credit, Soen thought through his rage. Jukung was a young, green blade, but he stood his ground. Ch’drei would not have chosen the whelp to spy