The Dragon War Read online

  “I’m not sure we accomplished anything last night, though if I think long enough and hard enough about it, then I may be able to glean something from our conversation.” Diamedes picked his spoon up and stirred again, not risking a sip yet.

  Zokar nodded and did the same. “I learned that the High Mage himself wants to rule Agon.”

  “You didn’t know that already?”

  “I guess I did, but this confirms it,” Zokar said. “I also learned he is more powerful than I had imagined.”

  “Perhaps,” Diamedes said, finally putting his spoon down and picking his cup up and bringing it to his lips. After blowing on it slightly the took a sip and nodded in satisfaction. “I’d need to ask Master Damien, but I believe the power he wielded came in part from the tower itself, not just him or his staff.”

  “Why do you think that?”

  “For one, I could see energy pulses from the tower into the staff, as if it were a wave of some kind. For another, he inferred that he invoked the attack in order to have it held on his ground so to speak. He would have the advantage atop his magical fortress, especially if it could imbue him and his staff with additional power.” Diamedes took a second sip and set his cup down.

  Zokar tried again after blowing on his and the look on his face indicated success. “Tower or not, I think the High Mage wields enough in that staff of his to take down a dragon easily. More than one to be exact. I’m not seeing how any ruler could stand against him.”

  “That’s because you can only think in terms of power.”

  Zokar put his cup down and tilted his head slightly in confusion. “What else is there to think of except in terms of power when dealing with rulers.”

  “Not everyone who is powerful wishes to rule.” Diamedes said.

  “You’re confusing me, historian.”

  “Look,” Diamedes began. “You forgot the Arnen. They can match, if not exceed, the power of the High Mage—”

  “Yes,” Zokar interrupted his companion. “The druids have power yet refuse to rule. You make sense now. Why didn’t you mention them right away?”

  “I did,” Diamedes said. “At least I did once I clarified your single-faceted thought process.”

  “That sounds like an insult,” Zokar said, but his smile indicated that the assassin was jesting with the historian.

  “Do you remember the High Mage warning us against involving the Arnen?”

  “I do, it’s difficult to not notice a threat coming from the most powerful arcane wielder on the planet.”

  “I could be wrong,” Diamedes started. “But if I didn’t know better, I’d say the man fears the Arnen more than the dragons.”

  “Hmm,” Zokar said, pondering over Diamedes latest thoughts on the matter. The two men sat in silence for a moment longer, each taking a drink after blowing on it and they started to enjoy the warmth of the hot beverage. After some time, Zokar continued changing the topic, “Have you decided on whether or not you’ll use those talamans that the High Mage gave you.”

  “Gave us,” Diamedes corrected.

  Zokar shrugged. “Either way, it’s suspicious. One could wonder if they were poisoned.”

  “Only an assassin would think that way,” Diamedes said. “I doubt the man would stoop to that when he could have simply vaporized us then and there. I suspect there’s another reason why he offered us such a valuable gift, but for now the answer eludes me.”

  “Well, the healing globes are well known, and I’m not injured so will you take one?” Zokar asked.

  Diamedes fished through his pocket and pulled the small, silk bag out. Opening the delicate drawstring, he inserted his thumb and index finger inside gingerly pulling a small blue orb out. Holding it up for inspection he said, “It looks benign enough.”

  “Most victims say that right before they die,” Zokar’s words dripped with sarcasm.

  “Fair enough,” Diamedes responded. “You’d know best considering your profession. Still, I think these would be better served for Master Damien.”

  Zokar picked up the pouch, weighing it in his hand. “I haven’t counted, but my guess based on the weight of the pouch would be that there are plenty enough in here for the both of you.”

  Diamedes nodded, “You are probably correct, though I think Damien could use the whole lot. Well, it would be rude of me to offer him one if I haven’t taken one myself.” With that, the historian put the blue, pearl-like globe into his mouth and swallowed picking up his tea cup and taking a long sip to wash it down.

  “How do you feel?” Zokar asked.

  “The same,” Diamedes answered. “I’m sure it will need a few moments to take effect.”

  “Only a minute or two,” Zokar answered. “I’ve had more than one of them administered to me in the course of my work.”

  “I bet you have.” Diamedes countered.

  The men sat and drank in silence for a couple of minutes before Zokar ventured another guess. “Feel it now?”

  “Oh yeah,” Diamedes answered, pulling at his robe and feeling his rib cage that had started to feel slightly warm and now felt as if it were practically on fire. “It’s burning my chest.”

  “It’s working then,” Zokar laughed. “Well, after having your audience with the High Mage, what is your next step going to be? Will you not heed my council and return to Balaria with me to consult with my Master?”

  Diamedes drank and then replied, “I would greatly appreciate hearing Master Seth’s advice on such a matter. I’m not sure it warrants a trip to your realm, that will take some time of which we now find ourselves in short supply.”

  Zokar refrained from speaking as the main door opened and a man and a boy entered with packages wrapped and stuffed in three baskets. The boy had opened the door for the man who carried the baskets stacked one on top of the other with two hands. Some green, leafy bits were showing through more than one package. There appeared to be some exchange at the front counter and the master servant of the inn appeared happy to see their arrival, so Zokar relaxed slightly and eased his hand off the hilt of his blade. “What will you do then if not travel to Balax?”

  The boy and man left and Diamedes spoke, “It appears they brought provisions for the tavern this evening. I’m guessing we’ll eat well enough tonight.”

  “You didn’t answer my question and I doubt they have pickles stuffed in there somewhere.”

  “You pain me,” Diamedes said in mock surprise. When Zokar just eyed him, he continued, “Very well. I’d prefer to go straight to Tyniria and consult with my King since Ulatha is cut off. I do understand though your desire to seek council from your leader.”

  “My orders were plain enough. Seek you out, defend you and assist you.”

  “That was it?” Diamedes asked.

  Zokar frowned, “What, that’s not good enough for you?”

  “Quite the contrary, it’s more than I could expect. I simply thought you would be ordered to bring me to Balax.”

  “I thought you said you knew my Master well?”

  “I know him well enough. Enough to know he’s risked his entire realm to assist me.”

  “Then you should know he wouldn’t order me to take you to Balax against your will.” Zokar picked his cup up and started drinking again.

  “Not against my will, but he could have you be more than persuasive.”

  Zokar laughed, loud enough to startle their server who was a good score of paces away setting tables for the lunch hour. “Actually, he did want me to persuade you. I think we can both agree that is exactly what I’m doing now.”

  Diamedes smiled then his eye opened wide as his gaze went past Zokar and fixated on something else. “Now there’s something that needs no persuading.”

  Zokar turned to see that the master servant of the tavern had started unwrapping the provisions that were delivered and had set them on the counter for further handling. On one end, all by itself was a glass jar filled with pickles.

  The pair spent the rest of the day a
t the tavern and slept in a room at the inn. Zokar didn’t seem put off by reserving the extra rooms. The inn had vacancy and since there was a working relationship between its owner and the guild, Diamedes figured they either had a special rate or there was no charge to reserve.

  When there was no sign of their companions the next day, they ate a frugal breakfast and took off on foot along the main road towards the sea. Having discussed their plans the night prior, Diamedes had decided to at least heed part of the Balarian’s advise and travel to the coast where he could make a final decision to board a boat and either continue on to Tyniria or sail to Balaria. At least this way he could buy himself some time to think upon his next course of action.

  The healing globe worked wonders. After several days of being in pain, the globe managed to completely heal Diamedes’ ribs and any soreness he had from his travels. He never felt better, and the question remained why would the High Mage proffer such a gift after wanting the Royal Historian dead not more than weeks, if not days, earlier? The pair felt a real sense of urgency to give a talaman healing globe, if not more than one, to Damien, if he was still alive.

  They took a brisk pace but stayed at conventional inns along the way. Zokar felt there was still a risk of someone spotting Diamedes and thinking there was still a bounty on his head, so they were discreet when stopping each night. Zokar would make the arrangements while Diamedes stayed somewhere either out of sight, or where it was difficult to see him and identify who he was. Other than eating, they kept to their room and slept with the window and door barred with weapons ready.

  They both found it interesting that the road and small towns, villages, and communities that they passed seemed mostly unaffected by the Dragon War. It was almost as if the bulk of the war in Kesh was centered on Keshtor its capital. There was a noticeable flow of traffic however in the outbound direction away from the capital. Few were trying to make their way to the city and almost no one talked, gossiped, or discussed current events regarding the attack on their homeland.

  After a third day and night, Zokar said they would not go to the coast along the main road, but rather veer slightly north again to a spot a few leagues north of the main Kesh port city. There was an aptly named bay there known as Pirate’s Cove. Zokar explained that a small cutter was usually kept there by Balaria for use when one of the senior guild leaders or government representative was on official business. Diamedes wondered why it wouldn’t be kept at the main port and Zokar only winked at him and said it was also used for not-so-official business.

  Zokar took his time and they camped outdoors for the first time in several days. When they finally reached a high point in the ground overlooking the cliffs that protected the bay Zokar made his announcement. “We’re here Diamedes. Time to decide.”

  The small craft looked sleek as if built for speed. It had its sails furled and the anchor chain was taught, a sure sign that the vessel was securely moored. “How long will it take us to descend to the sea?”

  “Half a day at least,” Zokar answered. “Once we arrive though, we can set sail immediately.”

  “How’d you know that a boat would be waiting for us?”

  “I didn’t know for sure,” Zokar explained. “However, my master was quite adamant about being prepared for your arrival and wanted most every resource he could muster in place. This is but one piece of many designed to aid in your quest.”

  Diamedes nodded, “I find myself more and more indebted to Master Seth with each day. Who would have guessed years ago when I started my investigation that Balaria would lead the way in assisting me?”

  “I’d say it was fate that brought you two together,” Zokar stated.

  “Yes, fate and dragons,” Diamedes agreed.

  “Shall we?” Zokar asked.

  “You lead, I’ll follow,” Diamedes said.

  The pair started down a well-hidden path that left them unable to view the cove as they descended. The sun was high overhead, but as they travelled the shadows lengthened to their east and it was dusk by the time they arrived, a half-day’s journey as Zokar predicted. Once on the flat and small, disk shaped beach, Zokar prepared to signal the ship as to their presence when an unexpected but familiar voice was heard coming from the gloom. “I wouldn’t do that if I were ya,”

  “Dour?” Diamedes asked.

  “Aye, now get down from that rock and get over here quick before they sees ya.”

  Diamedes hoped down from the large, but flat boulder at the shore where he had perched himself to get a better glimpse of the Balarian Cutter. They moved across the beach and away from the water towards the sound of Dour’s voice. “Where are you?” Diamedes asked, not seeing the diminutive cleric.

  “I’m right in front of ya,” Dour said, reaching out with a hand from a bush and grabbing Diamedes robe, pulling the historian towards him and the cover of the bushes. Zokar followed suit.

  “Good to see you,” Diamedes said, keeping his voice low despite his tone being excited. “Where are the others?”

  “That there barbarian is tending to Damien a stone’s throw behind us where that gulley meets this ridge.” Dour pointed behind him.

  “Then all three of you survived,” Zokar said, a slight note of relief in his voice.

  “It wasn’t easy, Assassin,” Dour said. “That damn black beast almost killed all of us.”

  “What happened?” Diamedes asked, readying his mental abilities to memorize the encounter for history’s sake.

  “Not now,” Zokar interrupted. “I want to know why we are hiding from my government’s ship. What’s gotten into you?”

  “Better if the Kesh explained it to you,” Dour said, moving stealthily and quickly despite the man’s older age and stocker build.

  It took five minutes, but they retreated to a draw in the cliffside and then climbed up into it and back a ways where there was plenty of foliage and bushes to conceal them. The echoing of their voices off the stone walls however forced them to continue their conversation in a whisper.

  “Found em,” Dour said to his companions, Damien and Azor as they arrived at a makeshift camp, though without a fire.

  Damien responded, “I told you that they would arrive this evening.”

  The group exchanged pleasantries and Zokar’s impatience was demonstrated in his line of questioning. “I need to know what’s going on.”

  Dour looked at Damien who cleared his throat then responded. “Your ship is no longer under control by its crew.”

  “Then whose controlling it?” Zokar asked.

  “Pirates,” Damien said.

  “Wait a moment,” Diamedes said. “Can we start from the beginning? How did you find us and better yet, what exactly happened to you in Keshtor?”

  Zokar seemed resigned to having his questions put on hold until they could get caught up on current events. Dour nodded at Damien to continue. “The High Mage gave you something rather magically powerful and it was an easy matter to track its magic along with the both of you to this place.”

  Dour added, “Once Damien saw ya all heading north, we knew you’d come here, so we hiked all day and night and arrived at mid-day not long before the lot of ya.”

  Zokar looked at Azor for confirmation and the Northman spoke, “It’s true.”

  “You can track me from the talamans that your leader gave us?” Diamedes asked.

  Damien nodded, “They are not normal talamans, but rather a more potent version imbued with both divine and arcane magic. Tracking them, and thus you, was relatively easy.”

  Diamedes took the silk bag from his belt and hefted them for all to see in his hand. “I find it hard to believe that these small globes can emanate such a strong magical presence.”

  “Understandable. Let us say that there were several other magical objects that were much more powerful than yours, but they were all stationary. These were the most powerful objects that were on the move and before you ask it, we did not know for sure that they were in your possession until we trac
ked them to the Traveling Toady.” Damien explained.

  “I didn’t know you could track magic with such detail or from such a range,” Diamedes said.

  “It is something I learned from my time with the nymphs,” Damien answered.

  “You still look bad,” Diamedes said to Damien. “I will offer you these talaman to heal yourself.”

  Dour interjected, “I’m not so sure it’s wise for ya to take those.”

  Damien nodded at his friend from where he sat cross legged on the ground with his back against the stone cliff. “You are probably right, but I am on my last breaths at the pace we have been taking since we left Ulsthor. These may be my only hope if I am to finish questing with Master Diamedes and see this through to the end.”

  “Well, if ya ask me, it may very well be the end of ya.” Dour said, a scowl coming across his face while he took his hands-on-the-hip stance. “If you can track em, then the big one can track ya as well.”

  “I am sure the High Mage could track me easily enough if he wanted to.” Damien reached up and pulled one of Dour’s hands off the man’s hip.

  Dour relented and eased his stance, kneeling in front of his Kesh friend and looking him in the eye, “I guess I am tiring a bit of saving your arse. It’s draining much of my energy as well. Still, I don’t think it’s a good idea, but I won’t argue it if you insist.”

  Damien gave his friend a way to save face, “I need it more than you know.” Turning to Diamedes, Damien asked, “You took one, correct?”

  “I did,” Diamedes answered. “Healed me quite nicely. I don’t feel any pain in my chest at all and my legs no longer feel like rubber.”

  Azor humphed, stifling a laugh and Damien asked, “I will take two if you are willing to part with them.”

  Diamedes fished in the pouch pulling two of the blue healing globes out and offering it to the Kesh wizard. Dour handed Damien a water flask which he used to wash them down after swallowing them. Finally, Diamedes asked, “Did you face a black dragon in Keshtor?”