Legends of the Dragonrealm Vol IV Part 2

It c.o.c.ked its head and waited.

"There are strangers in the realm, men from beyond the sea."

For the first time, the Necri's expression caught her by surprise. Puzzlement. Complete puzzlement. The creature could not comprehend the idea of men from beyond the vast body of water. Xabene herself found the thought unsettling. The Dragonrealm was the only world that she had ever known, but the lords had said that these men were from a land beyond and so she knew that it was true.

What was also true was that they were travelling in a direction that would take them much too close to the citadel of the d.a.m.nable gnome. The Lords of the Dead wanted no other compet.i.tors. The Dragon King of this region was trouble enough, thought he would, of course, fail in the end.

The Necri squeaked harshly and flexed his talons in expectation.

She shook her head. "No, we are to watch and wait for a time. The Dragon King will surely note their pa.s.sage, as will the keeper of the citadel."

Baring its teeth, the batlike monstrosity protested this decision. In the dark of night, it would be easy to pick off several men. Despite its sickly white coloring, it was somehow able to conceal itself from the eyes of all but the most wary.

"The decision was not mine."

Squeaking once more, the Necri grew subdued. It would not go against the wishes of its masters.

"We watch for now," Xabene continued, toying with the copper artifact. "Perhaps later, there will be time for your games."

That mollified the winged horror, at least for the moment. The enchantress wondered just how long it would be able to resist the temptation to slay at least one of the intruders. Long enough, she supposed, for it knew the fate that would await it if the lords discovered its disobedience in this matter.

She pointed to the southeast. "They camp on or near a beach directly south of the hills. Pa.s.s within sight of the gnome's citadel and you will have no trouble finding their vessel."

The Necri nodded its understanding. It would find them. Nothing escaped its kind for very long.

Xabene remained silent as the creature spread its expansive wings and turned from her. As it rose into the night sky, a ghostly death on wings, the sorceress pocketed the Seeker artifact and studied the dying flames. She had not informed the Necri of their masters' desire to speak with the leader of the outsiders. They had not required her to and so she had made the decision to leave the horrific beast in the dark.

The Lords of the Dead were very curious about the newcomers. Had the dark enchantress been more daring in her thoughts, she might have almost suspected them of being just a bit frightened as well. Such a thought had never occurred to Xabene, however, for to imagine fright among her masters would have seemed very much like heresy.

In truth, the reason she had not informed the Necti of their lords' desire was because she wanted to be the one who brought them the expedition's leader. It would give her an opportunity to ask a few harmless questions of her own.

She smiled. If the newcomers' leader was a man, and she supposed that was the most likely case, then before long he would tell her everything she and her lords desired to know.

The dawn had come earlier than they had expected. Under the guidance of Captain Yalso and Prentiss Asaalk, the expedition readied itself. Most of the necessities had been brought ash.o.r.e the previous evening, including the dozen horses and wagons. Yalso had had the latter rea.s.sembled as soon as all the pieces were accounted for. Once more, Wellen felt as useful as the sand on the beach. He knew that was not the case, for it had been his efforts that had brought about the expedition and it was to be his decision when it came to the direction the expedition's future was to take. Certainly, they would investigate the ruined port city first, but there were other priorities. If there was thriving civilization somewhere on this side of the continent, it was up to the party to discover it.

Wellen knew they might find the locals warlike, but the men he had hired, including those of Yalso's crew who were to accompany them, were, for the most part, capable in such situations. He was grateful that the captain had chosen to leave things in the hands of his first mate and had joined the explorers. If there was anyone who knew how to handle a desperate situation, besides Prentiss Asaalk, it was the st.u.r.dy Yalso.

Around mid-morning, they got underway. Only the scouts and those commanding the expedition had steeds; there simply had not been enough money or room for all those that they would have required. Even enterprising merchants were willing to risk only so much on such a daring venture, and to have carried all that Wellen had needed would have required one, possibly two more ships as ma.s.sive as the Heron's Wing. As it was, Wellen, the blue man, and the captain had three of the animals. The scouts had three more. The remaining horses, all draft animals, pulled the wagons along. For the time, their loads would be light, but the expedition hoped to fill those empty wagons with valuables before time considerations made them return to those waiting at the beach encampment.

The first few hours pa.s.sed as uneventfully as the night. After several miles of walking, most of the men had lost interest in the surrounding landscape which was, even Wellen had to admit, not very different from some of the regions back home.

Wellen called a halt about midway through the afternoon. Asaalk was all for continuing on for a few more hours, but the scholar reminded him that not only was he riding and the men were not, but also that most of them had not yet fully gotten their land legs back.

"They've only had a day to recover," he reminded the blue man. "Whatever ground we cover after they've had a short time to rest will be a bonus as far as I'm concerned."

"You plan to travel on until nightfall?" Captain Yalso asked, dismounting.

"I do." Wellen followed suit. After a moment, a reluctant Asaalk joined them on foot. "That should mean about another four, maybe four and a half hours. I'd hoped to reach the hills-"

"Hnunph! Not today!"

The hills were an annoyance to Bedlam. He had estimated them closer and thought they might reach the base of the nearest by the time the sun set, but that was no longer likely. "Whatever we can add to what we've already traveled, then." He had no intention of putting the column through a grueling death march.

"There is rain in our future."

The northerner's words made both men look skyward. In the distant northwest, Wellen observed a line of clouds. He shook his head. "Cloud cover, maybe, but those don't look like rain clouds. . . not yet. It'll cool things down a little, at least."

It seemed likely that the white ma.s.s would not reach them until some time during the night. If it appeared threatening by then, they could always make arrangements, but Wellen doubted that would be necessary.

The scouts returned just as the column began moving again. Riding beside the scholar, the lead scout, a young, narrow man with a crooked nose and no hair whatsoever, reported their finds.

"All clear up to the hills, Master Bedlam. Not a soul around."

Wellen caught a note of uncertainty in the man's voice and asked, "Does that bother you for some particular reason?"

The scouts looked at one another before the leader finally answered. "Just seems too pretty and too d.a.m.ned organized. My ma had a big garden and I keep feelin' like I'm ridin' in the middle of it now."

"Garden? What does that mean?" Prentiss Asaalk urged his mount closer and stared down the lead scout.

"I mean the hills, what we could see of them, are awfully nice and organized!" His face screwed up as he thought about it. "They're all pretty much identical, too!"

Glancing forward at the distant hills, Wellen had to admit there was something to what the man was saying. The hills were nearly identical. They varied in size, true, but not in shape. There was also a definite trend; the hills grew taller the more to the north one looked.

"Preposterous, yes?" Asaalk asked, looking at the scholar. "I suppose . . ."

"Is that all you men have to report?" Captain Yalso asked, sounding both relieved and disgusted. No one wanted to be told that there was danger, but at the same time everyone wanted to know if there was something of interest ahead. The thought of finding nothing but endless woods and fields appealed to no one. While that meant plenty of good land for colonizing, it also meant no riches.

"You told us not to go too far ahead, sir."

That was true. Since the column would be turning north in another day or two, no one had seen much sense in sending the scouts too far west. Wellen was already regretting that decision. Who knew what lay farther inland? Had he not had the others to consider, he would have ridden deeper into the Dragonrealm. Unfortunately, the scholar knew that he would be lucky if they managed to map most of the eastern coastline before they were forced to return home. It might be years before he had another chance, though.

He came to a decision. "Would you men be willing to scout farther west?"

There were nods from all three. The leader asked, "How far should we ride?"

"As far as you can and still be back by the time we've turned north. That'll give you . . . three days."

"Three days?" Yalso's half-buried mouth curved upward on the ends. "Change your mind?"

"No, I just want to make certain that we bypa.s.s that mist-enshrouded region completely." That, at least, was true. More so, now that he was thinking about it. The sense of foreboding was so great that he almost thought he felt it. . . but that was ridiculous. Wellen wore the mark of a spellcaster, the streak of silver in his hair, but he had never so much as manifested the least of skills.

The lying shock of hair was a sore point with him, but he knew better than to brood about it, especially now. Thrusting it from his mind, he told the scouts, "That's all I can give you. Ride at your own pace and be careful. We can't afford to turn around once we get started north."

More enthusiastic than they had been upon returning, the scouts saluted Wellen and rode back the way they had come.

"On horse they should make some distance, yes?" Asaalk looked as if he wanted to join them. In that, he was one with the young Bedlam. "Perhaps they will find something for us, something we may turn to if the city is a loss."

An encouraging thought, but Wellen did not want to get his hopes up. At least they knew the ancient city existed. There might not be another such place on the entire continent. There might be nothing.

Wellen hoped that was not the case, if only because it would mean his dream would become only that, a fool's imaginary wonder.

The rest of the day's excursion pa.s.sed quietly. Several of Yalso's men had been constantly at work jotting down landmarks that would later be compared for a final map of the region. Now and then, the captain retreated to speak to these men, leaving an uneasy Wellen to ride in silence beside the ma.s.sive blue man. Fortunately, Asaalk seemed lost in his own thoughts, for he made only one comment when they were alone and that was to point out a rather large bird in the distance. From what little they could make out, the two estimated it to be almost as large as a man. That made the northerner check his bow and Wellen reconsider the tales of the Dragonrealm.

When the sun finally began to sink over the hills and Yalso suggested they stop for the night, he was more than willing to acquiesce. They chose a lightly wooded location that would give them some protection. Any locale would have actually suited Wellen, even a rocky hillside. Exhaustion mingled with antic.i.p.ation had taken a worse toll on him than he had thought possible.

"You look all done in," the sea captain commented after they had handed their mounts over to one of Yalso's men. Around them, weary souls were preparing meals and bedding. Wellen nodded to a few and tried to look encouraging. He had no idea whether he was succeeding or not.

"The trouble of being a scholar, I suppose. My life has been too sedentary and my body just can't take all of this."

Yalso's expression indicated he did not really believe the shorter man's excuse, but the captain liked Wellen too much to pry, at least for now. "Get some food and then go to sleep as soon as ya can. I'll handle sentries and the like, providin', that is, that the blue devil's not already done that again."

The blue man had not joined the two of them, but rather had darted off in the opposite direction as soon as he had dismounted. Wellen did not really care what Asaalk was doing now; the blue man's ambitions had no outlet here in the wilds. Perhaps when they reached the ancient city, he might be able to turn the lure of riches to his advantage, but not at the moment. Wellen had the column moving as quickly and efficiently as possible and he knew that his caution concerning the land to the north was one that most of his men shared.

Food was welcome at this late point in the day, as was the tent that he found waiting for him when he went to retrieve his things. Both Yalso and Asaalk insisted that the expedition's leader warranted a private tent. To everyone else, it seemed a plain and simple thing, but Wellen always felt embarra.s.sed when he was treated so. He had led a quiet, unrigorous life and so he always carried the fear that no one would respect him if he did not work as they worked and lived as they lived.

Still, the tent did give him somewhere private that he could use for his research. His food half-forgotten beside him, the scholar began rummaging through his notes and theories concerning the Dragonrealm. It was always best to check and double-check what he had written earlier. So engrossed did Bedlam become in his work that he did not look up until he realized that someone had called his name.

It was Captain Yalso. "Knew I'd be findin' you porin' over those things! What do you find new in them each night? You were readin' them each night on the ship and here you are again!"

Wellen gathered up his papers. "There's always something new. A different perspective, a clearer thought; it could be anything."

"So you say. Well you may be in charge, but I'm orderin' you to bed les' of course you want to fall off your horse tomorrow!"

Sleep suddenly sounded so good. Wellen eyed his dinner, part of which was still untouched. "I'll just finish eating."

"Do it without readin'," suggested the aged mariner. "Just so you know, too, the blue devil's out huntin' with a couple of men. Said there's plenty of game out there."

"Long as he doesn't mistake anyone for a deer." Yalso grew somber. "He'd better not."

Reading the captain's expression, Wellen shook his head. He doubted that Prentiss Asaalk would bend to anything as crude as murder. A man of pride, the northerner would be more interested in letting his skills prove him the rightful leader of the expedition. Yalso, however, was a man who had lived a far more violent life. Between pirates and such, he had developed a very harsh opinion of life.

The captain, seeing that Wellen would not hear his warnings, switched to a more mundane subject. "The clouds've moved in a lot faster. They may not be rain makers, but I doubt we'll be seem' much sun tomorrow."

After the heat today, that seemed more of a G.o.dsend to Wellen. "Means we might get a few extra miles. We'll have to keep an eye out. No telling if the weather here changes abruptly. Wouldn't do to be unprepared for a downpour."

"I'll be keepin' that in mind. That's all I had to tell ya. Get yourself some rest. You'll need it." The bulky seaman started to depart, then paused and added, "If you're not asleep in an hour, I'll be havin' the sentries tie ya down!"

Wellen laughed as the captain retired, because he knew very well that Yalso meant what he had said. Organizing his research into a neat pile, he thrust it back into a weathered pouch and then set about finishing his evening meal. There would be days enough to go over it a hundred times and Captain Yalso was correct when he said that Wellen needed rest. Now free of the hypnotic pull of his work, the short scholar felt the renewed weight of exhaustion attempting to overwhelm him.

He wondered whether he would be able to finish his food before sleep finally triumphed.

Wellen gasped and sat up. He had no way of knowing just how much time had pa.s.sed since he had retired, but he was certain the night was well underway. Outside, he could hear nothing but the sounds of night: insects, birds, and other small, nocturnal creatures. The scholar frowned. None of those sounds had disturbed him; rather, he had the sensation that there was something else out there, something beyond his experience.

He gathered his clothes and dressed quietly but quickly. It was still quite possible that Wellen had heard one of the sentries wandering by, but he doubted that. He could not say why he felt doubtful any more than he could explain why these sensations were occurring.

The clouds covered most of the sky, which made the night that much darker. Wellen stepped out of his tent and surveyed the area, trying to identify the few things he could make out from where he stood. He heard a man cough in his sleep and saw the vague shapes of several sleepers. Nothing unusual.

A few tentative steps left him standing in the dark, perplexed and annoyed at what was happening within his head. It if was real, then what was it? If it was all imaginary, then was he suffering from paranoia? Asaalk, if no one else, would welcome that. The young scholar knew that he could not remain leader of the expedition if he started dreaming up imaginary dangers left and right . . . and above.

It was above. As if he had actually heard or seen it, Wellen knew that whatever it was lurked directly above him. In the overhanging branches of the nearest tree.

He looked up and perhaps it was the vehemence with which he moved that settled the matter, for a large, dark form suddenly stirred to life. Wellen instinctively let out a yell, bringing the entire camp into frenzied life. The creature in the tree, despite having the advantage, did not fling itself down upon him nor did it flutter off into the night. Instead, it moved about the branches, as if lost or confused.

A hissing noise made the short man stumble away. He saw a long, skinny shape bury itself in the upper portion of the tree's trunk and realized that someone had let loose an arrow. He had no time to wonder who could have moved with such speed and accuracy, however, because the watcher in the branches had finally had enough and was pushing its way out of the tangle.

"What is it? What's happenin'?" Yalso roared from an unknown location to Wellen's right.

Another hiss. The winged figure, just launching itself into the sky, squawked in agony as the shaft bit into it. Wellen watched it tumble toward the ground, wings desperately trying to control its crazed descent. A moment later, it struck the ground with an all-too-solid thump.

"Master Bedlam!" Captain Yalso, shirtless, rushed to his side. In his hand he held a torch. "Are you well?"

He could not answer the other man, his eyes snared by the sight before him. In the flickering light, the injured creature became a tale come to life. The humanoid torso, the avian visage, despite its small size-standing, it probably came up to Wellen's chest-it was as a few of the fragmented stories had described.

A Seeker. One of the bird folk in the legends of Lord Drazeree.

Other men were gathering, but Yalso waved them back. The Seeker, whether male or female was hard to say, tugged at the shaft, which had caught it in the thigh. It completely ignored the humans.

An adolescent, Wellen decided. Small wonder it grew confused instead of departing immediately.

"I struck it, yes?"

Prentiss Asaalk broke through the gathering men, his longbow ready. Suddenly, Bedlam wanted to take the man and shake him. The northerner would never understand why, though.

He would have to act quickly. "Everyone remain where you are! Leave this to me!"

Slowly, Wellen walked toward the bleeding avian, his hands out and open for the creature to see. It failed to notice his nearing presence at first, still caught up in its futile attempt to remove the arrow. When it finally did notice him, its reaction was to reach out and try to claw at his legs. Fortunately for Wellen, its desire was greater than its reach. Its swift defense, however, proved too much for it and it slumped to the ground. The scholar continued to move cautiously, noting that the eyes still watched him.

"Don't go any closer," Yalso warned him.

"It's all right."

"We should finish it off, yes? Much easier to study when it cannot snap a finger off." Asaalk's comment made Wellen's gaze shift for a brief time to the Seeker's beak. There was no doubt in his mind that the avian could not only bite off his fingers, but possibly his entire hand. Still, he did not stop.

When he was well within claw range and still the young Seeker had not attacked him again, Wellen dared to kneel down by the injured leg. The eyes of the avian stayed on him at all times, but it now seemed to understand that he, at least, meant it no harm. He touched the shaft carefully, noting how deep it had sunk into the leg. The pain had to be almost unbearable.

"This will hurt. I'm sorry, but I can't help that. There's no other way." Wellen doubted that it could understand him, but he hoped that his soothing tones would relay his intentions.

Though he had lived most of his life in the throes of research, Wellen Bedlam was not unfamiliar with such wounds. Part of his training had included aiding the injured. With raiders such as the Sons of the Wolf forever hara.s.sing settlements, it behooved a traveling scholar to have such knowledge.

His hands steady, something that surprised him quite a bit, Wellen carefully worked the shaft outward. The Seeker's breathing grew ragged as the adolescent flyer struggled with the sharp increase in pain. Smiling encouragement and hoping that the bird understood his expression, Wellen continued. The head of the arrow was giving him great difficulty, causing him to wonder just what it looked like. Trust the blue man to utilize a tip with jagged barbs or something equally nasty.

He nearly fell backward when the arrow came loose. The Seeker gasped and shivered, but still did not pa.s.s out. He had to admire its stamina. Had it been himself, Wellen was certain he would have blacked out long before. He glanced at the arrowhead. Sure enough, it was lined with hooked ridges. Any animal suffering the misfortune of being struck by one of Asaalk's toys would tear open its wound further when it tried to pull the arrow out with its teeth or claws. In all probability, the head itself would end up remaining lodged in the wound until the victim perished from blood loss or disease.

Thinking of the wound, he turned his gaze back to the leg. Blood continued to streak down the sides. The wound was a good two inches across and probably extended down to the bone. He would have to bind it lest it grow worse, but first he had to inspect it a little closer. There might be other damage.

As his fingers touched the edge of the gaping wound, a wondrous thing happened. Wellen removed his hand as if a snake had been about to bite it, but only because he had hardly been expecting this latest shock.

The wound was closing. It was healing itself.