The guards rudely shoved them into a dank cell and Cirion expected Raith to follow, but the wizard was shoved into a cell across from them. A sign on the wall showed a broken wizard’s staff and the rogue nodded to himself. Of course. A room with magic protection so that spells failed. The wizard wouldn’t be helping them escape anywhere.
“What’s this?” the guard grunted, yanking down the nape of Raith’s robe far enough that even Cirion could see the symbol tattooed on the base of his neck from across the way. It hadn’t been there before, the rogue was certain, having seen the wizard’s nape more than once. Had Raith been using an illusion spell to hide it? The spell would’ve stopped working once in that cell. Most people would’ve recognized the symbol at once. The guard turned Raith around, and Cirion saw the wizard caught between a frown, a smirk, and a glare. With a knife to the throat, the guard led the wizard away again and this time Cirion suspected he knew where they were going.
Chapter 14 – Confrontation
The shimmering portal that hung in the air before him differed from those that others used to travel across or even between worlds. He could, unassisted, make it appear anywhere, such was his power. This took great strength, so he sometimes used more mundane avenues, especially if he’d recently experienced battle to sap his energy, but years had passed since anyone had been foolish enough to challenge him. Most wizards used permanent portals created by someone else to travel to a fixed location, but he always chose his own destination and often visited places that few others dared. Fixed portals were usually guarded, though, like any skilled wizard, he could make people forget he’d arrived.
The black robed wizard looked over at the rosewood cabinet in one corner, now empty after years. He hefted the staff, its weight familiar, the crystal atop it held by a bluish steel few had ever seen. Memories of happier times returned, but so did painful ones best left forgotten. Companions long lost had once given his life greater dynamics if not pleasure, and his was a life devoid of trust since separating from them. Still, the choice had been his, and it wasn’t one he consciously regretted.
He brushed aside the thought to focus on the task at hand. The time had come to learn who these champions-apparent were. His spy had learned enough before foolishly being caught, forcing him to incinerate the dark elf so Lorian couldn’t learn anything. A corpse only revealed so much. He had blocked the communication orb from reaching any of his other orbs. Still, he had a secret to keep and to that end he’d planned how best to deal with these imposters. Death was of course the ultimate option, as always, and this time there’d be four bodies for people to mourn over, not just a memory of heroes vanished.
“So tell me,” purred Perndara, her deep, husky voice rattling the loose stones nearby, “why is a member of my Dragon Cult sneaking into a castle guarded by the very same cult?”
Raith hadn’t thought of a good reply for her question despite knowing it was coming. With a mixture of defiance and awe, he regarded the golden dragon silently. She loomed more massive than any depiction in literature and was far more beautiful than he’d imagined dragons could be. The foul scent of death on her breath had never been mentioned. Nor had the giant, smooth intakes of breath, or the hot exhale that carried the reminder of flames, or the floor rumbling with her shifting weight as dust fell from the ceiling, the ruin adjusting to her. Only the folded leathery wings, the barbed tail curled around a pillar, and the great fanged mouth were common features of every story, and they were enough to induce amazement. The dragon’s piercing, malevolent gaze chilled him. Even without its other advantages, its intelligence and magic were fearsome. It was little wonder the champions banished them—the dragons of Honyn weren’t given to good deeds and peaceful living.
“Unless, of course,” continued the dragon, “you are not a true member of the cult but an imposter. I wonder how best to determine your loyalty in the absence of an explanation.”
The wizard’s heart skipped a beat. Honyn’s dragons had inventive and nasty ways of getting answers and demonstrations of devotion, sometimes resulting in a loyal but dead follower. Cirion would have thought lesser things would scare him, but Raith was quite a different man than Cirion knew and had faced far worse threats than his supposed leader would have imagined.
“The intruders I was with want to close the Dragon Gate and I needed to be certain they could not,” he started, hoping this turned out well.
“Then why not simply kill them?” Perndara interrupted, unimpressed. “You needn’t masquerade as one of them.”
Thinking quickly, Raith said, “They have a scroll written by the Ellorians who imprisoned you. It describes how the gate works, or so I believe. They have not allowed me to see it or know its location. If I kill them it might fall into the wrong hands again.”
“I see. Go on.”
Realizing the dragon was baiting him, Raith stifled a sigh. Did she know better than to help people explain themselves? Getting them to say too
