Chapter 45
Quiet whisperings and moans filled the night air. It sighed high in the trees only to collapse, rattling through the brush like old bones and broken teeth.
His voice swirled about Hefldeep like folds of crepe, soft-edged in deep shadows. The chant, a seduction of syllables in a language shunned by the speaking races, twisted through those gathered in the clearing. It touched deep places, ugly places, and those there sighed and gasped with lust.
Even she, bound and hobbled... a representative for the elementals to the Espiare High Council... eldest living dragonkin, was not immune to the pull of his weave.
Some of those in the clearing wore the marks and insignias of mighty houses in Sedd as well as the Academy of Tavir, while others were creatures of wild corrupt Tavir, and denizens warped by the worshipers of the Ancient Ones.
She stood in neither group, but a small cordoned-off area to the side of the large circular altar. It protruded from the center of the clearing, like a nasty wart. From here, Hefldeep watched, wondering if tonight was her night to die.
This clearing was once long ago the center of the Mekli-Al’far city of Elgenot. That city had disappeared during the Time of Desolation along with all the inhabitants but for Urilith Ta’Sarith. For these many centuries, she had accompanied him on the anniversary of the night he returned home to find his family, his home, his community gone and in their stead, a vale treed with the twisted limbs of a haunted forest.
Hefldeep wanted to shut her eyes to stop the images before her. But Zamphere’s weave forced her to seek them out. Urilith, her friend, hung suspended above an altar ringed with shining great swords.
In the center of this great circle, a deep indentation held Ymarii’s missing egg. At the elemental points, gnarled brambles grew into and through the stone. They clawed their way skyward, but the elemental force at the center of the altar pulled them together above that center, above that egg, and from that Urilith dangled. Arms pulled taut above his head by woven essence, he swung and twirled at Zamphere’s whim.
Since being brought to this hideous vale, Hefldeep learned the one performing this ritual was Zamphere. Who he was and where he came from she did not know, but when he came close to her he smelled, a smell only one that had been under the influence of a Mijenjae would know. He must somehow be bound to one, for he looked to be pure and true, Al’far. A conundrum she was sure she would take to her grave.
His melodious voice drew those present in with hypnotic precision. Then the words stopped. Urilith opened his eyes. Zamphere suddenly appeared, standing in midair beside the high councilman’s hanging body. He held a dark dagger, a hand and a half of polished black crystal that rose and fell to the sighing in the dark.
Zamphere, careful he wasted none of Urilith’s lifeblood, chanted in words ancient and yet somehow new. The blood splashed down to bathe the dragon’s egg. It seemed to wreath across the egg’s surface before seeping in.
The web of cracks covering the shell turn crimson and lurid green sparks of energy raced along the limbs and branches of the twisted trees. They spread across the altar to dance upon the dragon’s egg, marking each crack with corrupt power.
Then Zamphere once more stood upon the dais. The clearing silent beneath the web of power he completed. Raisha and her red sister, Sangryl, loomed above them, so close they mirrored a pair of ill-mated eyes, watched the shell crumble and a dragon stretch his head toward the sky. A roar challenged the blood-tinged night, and the corpse of Urilith disappeared.
Zamphere chuckled and motioned for one of his pet hounds. A one-eyed man covered in scars came forward. “Give it another. We don’t want it breaking out of the cage before we have it in our control.”
The man nodded, striding toward Hefldeep’s pen. A sneer on his face, he reached into the pen, snagging Hefldeep by the shoulder. But after running his hand down her skinny arm, he let go. “Your bony hide can wait until he is not quite so hungry.”
He shoved her aside, grasping a plump Bien Al’far maiden from the prisoners. “Come on sweet cheeks, you’re invited to a midnight dinner party and we don’t want to be draggin’ our feet. Get it,” he said, with a laugh. “Dragon our feet.” He snickered again, removing her control collar and thrust the girl toward the caged dragon.
Hefldeep sagged beneath the weight of what she witnessed, her swirling blue-green eyes gone still as death. Until finally, the one-eyed hound collected her and those left in her group, leading them back on an essence-woven tether. Although Hefldeep stumbled down the avenue behind him, her eyes remained dead.
He shoved her and the remaining two from her group into a pen on the ruined temple grounds. She slumped to the floor as he stood glaring around the pen. His good eye looked every bit like Sangryl on this evil night and his scarred white eye socket, like Raisha, tethered and brought to submission.
“Don’t you worry, I’ll be back in the morning to give you another chance at the straw draw. Right now I’m going to get,” he paused, turned, and tipping his head back, he drew in a deep breath of the night air through his nose. “I’m going to get me some rare meat.”
With a leer, he strode out the gate, releasing his prisoners from the leash as he shut and locked the door. He walked off into the darkness, whistling an aimless tune.
Hefldeep closed her eyes, leaning against the crumbling corner of this long ago ruin, glad for once of the jagged piece of wall, she claimed as her home. Dregs of her morning potion no longer fogged her mind. And she wondered how much time she had before they returned to force the mix down their throats once more.
She pushed out with her mind, sending her plea into that place between realms where only those gifted by the dragons could hear. She did not expect her life to be saved, but this atrocity could not be left unanswered and unchallenged. Hefldeep knew her chances were slim of pushing far enough to find her sister Ymarii, but if Glyf or Thysl or Marley… She hoped, perhaps if it was they that the hound hunted, they were close enough...
The trembling of the ground subsided and Kestrel, her heart heavy and tears misting her vision, hurried through the thick foliage. Although the center of the vale hid behind the forest, Sirrsi’s view was unobstructed, and her grief and rage poured into Kestrel through their connection. Urilith was dead and the dragon roared.
She struggled to carry on, her senses overwhelmed by the layers of corruption clinging to everything around her. Once more, the dragon roared somewhere in the distance and she stopped as Shel and B’ryl turned back to her.
Shel, once again, seemed to listen in on a conversation no one else could hear. After a moment, she motioned the girls in close, having them bend in so as not to be heard.
“B’ryl, you, Kestrel, and the yanzul must flee to Legacy, now. The one-eyed hound has been loosed to hunt.”
“But what about the other prisoners? There must be something we can still do to help them.” Unwilling to accept their dangerous trek was for naught, Kestrel tried to keep the desperation out of her voice.
“Your time has not come, child. Would you throw your life and all the good you could do away on a foolish notion of doing something… anything to help.”
“What about Marley and the dragonkin? They must be close. We could meet up with them and add our strength to theirs.”
“Is that why you left them in the first place? To meet up with them in the last hours of their quest… and do what? Have you done what you set out to do?”
“How can I do that?” Kestrel cried. “Urilith is dead.”
“You set out to go to Legacy, did you not?” The High Council of the Espiare lives there. B’ryl is known and, if not accepted, at least tolerated. She is heir to Urilith’s estates there and could use your support as much as you could use hers. I think if you ask your companion, she will agree.”
Kestrel did not need to ask. Like a shadow padding through the forest, Sirrsi came to a halt next to the three. Her thoughts already in Kestrel’s mind. The elemental is right. This is a fight we will only die in if we continue into the vale. Think, child, is this not what your dreams warned you of? There are others besides Urilith that would mentor you.
“I… I feel like I am letting Marley and Jayf down a second time.” Kestrel sighed, realizing there really wasn’t anything they could do against an unknown force of essence-weavers, monsters, and a dragon. “Why aren’t you coming with us?”
“I will lead your friend on a merry little chase he will not soon forget… if he lives to remember it. Then, I must see to my warriors.”
“Will you see Marley and Jayf?” Kestrel asked, holding a tight rein on her emotions.
“If the fates are kind, I hope to cross paths with him.” Shel turned to her daughter. “We will meet again when the time is right, B’ryl. You know where to go and who to seek. Be careful who you would call friend. Not all surfaces reflect what is beneath. Now go.” The water elemental did not wait for their acknowledgment, but disappeared into the night shadows. And Kestrel, B’ryl, and Sirrsi backtracked up the ridge as the dragon roared once more.