Song of the Dragon

“Home?” the elf spat. “You have no home, RuuKag. . it’s burned to the ground, its walls caving in on itself as a ruin because your companions wrecked it all. If you’re going to have any home at all, it will only be after you finish your task by leading me to the bolters with whom you’ve been traveling.”

“I don’t know where they are!”

“What?”

“They. . they moved on,” RuuKag said. “That Drakis human said something about going east-maybe finding a ship or something. They’ve probably left by now. .”

“Then find them!” the elf insisted. “By the gods, you’re a manticore!”

“But, Master,” RuuKag asked with uncertainty in his voice. “I know you are powerful, but they have magic of their own. . powerful and deadly. How many of your brothers are with you?”

“It’s just me,” the elf replied. “And it will go a lot better for all of us if it remains just me.”

“I don’t understand,” RuuKag said, shaking his head.

“Listen to me, manticore!” the elf was losing patience. “There are three-maybe four full Quorums of Iblisi on the plains who are trying to keep up with me. They are hunting me in order that they may be led to you. When they find us-should they find us-then I can promise you as certainly as the sun will arise in the morning, things will go much worse for all of us-you included-if you do not get me to this Drakis friend of yours first.”

“I don’t. . please, Master, I’ve got to think. .”

“Think!”

The manticore flinched at the elf’s shouted word.

“You don’t have to think about anything! Thinking is what made you a coward!”

RuuKag whined, his ears flattening back against his wide head.

“I may not have Timuran’s Impress Scrolls, but I did read the Devotion Ledger- especially of certain bolters,” the elf said, stepping closer. “RuuKag, once of the Shakash Pride was supposed to be a warrior-supposed to rush into battle-but he thought too much, felt too much. So he came home. . just walked back to his pridelands because the thought of battle and death and pain frightened him. The frightened manticore! A freak and an embarrassment to his father and mother and brothers and everything his Shakash Pride had stood for and taught since the rise of Chaenandria. You were useless, so they banished you to the Vestasian Savanna.”

RuuKag shrank back.

The elf pressed his face so near the manticore that his scent was overwhelming. “How was that for you, RuuKag? Too afraid to fight and your own family not understanding why? They still loved you, still cared for you, but in one way or another they all turned their backs on you and banished you from the pride. You might still be among them, but you could never again be one of them. So you banished yourself, making the long way to the cursed lands of the Vestasian Savanna, nursing the wounds in your heart. How was that for you, RuuKag of Shakash. . oh, pardon me, RuuKag of no pride at all. . to come again just weeks ago back to the old lands of your punishment? Did even the mud gnomes remember the story of the manticore with no pride?”

“No,” whispered RuuKag. “Not even that.”

“No, you were forgotten-not even important enough for the mud gnomes to remember your story,” the elf sneered. “No wonder you prefer to forget.”

RuuKag closed his eyes. Great tears fell down his fur-covered cheeks, glinting in the moonlight.

“Now, I’m the one who knows your story, RuuKag,” the elf continued. “You could try to take me, I suppose, try to summon that famously vicious warrior heart, and we could do battle right here. Or you could do as you were told to do: lead me to Drakis and his companions, serve the Imperial Will and, as your reward, I will see to it that you never remember again who you were and the shame you brought on your family and pride.”

RuuKag’s breath was ragged. He held very still.

“Take me to Drakis,” the elf whispered. “And RuuKag can be completely forgotten. No one will remember that name. . not even you.”

RuuKag opened his eyes and stared into the blackness that was encompassed by the elf’s hood.

“I will, Master,” the manticore said.

The elf smiled, his sharp teeth shining in the starlight.

“But I will need a new set of beacon stones,” RuuKag continued. “They’re going to use the old ones to take you in the wrong direction.”

“Here,” the elf said, reaching into the folds of his cloak and pulling out a small, plain pouch. “These are my own-made by my hand. They will answer to my staff only.”

“Thank you, Master,” the manticore said. He took a few steps up the northwestern road and then stopped. “Master, is it true that you do not wish to harm this Drakis-human?”

The elf chuckled. “RuuKag, I may be the only one I know who does not want him dead.”

“But,” RuuKag persisted, “why do you wish him alive?”

“I have my own reasons,” the elf replied.

“Surely such things are beyond my understanding,” RuuKag said, his eyes gazing once more upward toward the stars, “but it is a wonder that an elf should cross all of Chaenandria, concern himself with the obscure backgrounds of a handful of freed slaves, and cross the length and breadth of the Vestasian Plain just to meet this Drakis.”

The elf paused. “You’re thinking again, RuuKag.”

“Sorry, Master,” the manticore said, lowering his head.

“Just don’t let it happen again.”

“Yes, Master.”

The manticore turned once more to face the elf. “They will have questions, Master-about my absence, especially since they discovered the stones. What do I tell them?”

“Tell them. .” The elf thought for a moment before he continued with a bright lilt in his voice. “Tell them that you were their traitor.”

“They would kill me,” RuuKag said. “You cannot be serious!”

“On the contrary, I am most serious,” the elf continued. “They wouldn’t believe you if you lie. Tell them that you have been dropping these stones so that they could be tracked and followed and that the Iblisi are searching for them. Then tell them that after getting to know them you have changed your mind and want to help them instead.”

“They will believe this?”

“Absolutely,” the elf said, folding his arms across his chest, his staff casually crooked in his arms. “Any lie is far more easily swallowed when it is mixed with a liberal amount of the truth. Besides, from what I know of this Drakis, he would be more willing to forgive a penitent traitor than a professed friend. Most humans are.”

RuuKag nodded. “Then I shall do your bidding. . but, Master, by what name shall I speak of you?”

“Soen,” the elf replied. “Just Soen.”

CHAPTER 42

Heart of the Manticore

Belag was straining at his own patience. Urulani knew the Cragsway Pass, and the dwarf simply could not be stopped from coming. Even the Lyric-who still insisted that as Musaran the Wanderer her spirit could easily keep up with them all-was moving with them through the night. Fortunately, Belag mused, Drakis and Mala were