The Dragon War Page 3

  “So he’s finally awake?” Zokar said as he and Azor approached the building with weapons drawn.

  “Yes, a few hours ago,” Damien responded from the rickety porch where both he and Diamedes sat on chairs facing south. Both men had robes pulled tight against the weather as Damien had found a spare one for his guest to wear.

  Azor grunted and both men came to stand in front of the porch. Zokar looked at Diamedes with his gaze roaming from head to feet. “You look better. How do you feel?”

  Diamedes chuckled and gave Damien a sideways glance, “I was asked the same question not long ago.”

  Damien chimed in, “I checked his injuries. His leg is healing, though I dare say he will walk with a limp for the rest of his life and his ribs are less swollen, though the bruising has gotten worse.”

  “You should have left him in bed,” Zokar said, scolding the Kesh magic-user.

  “You do not know him the way I do,” Damien defended himself. “After three days of sleeping his life away, he insisted on waiting for you two interlopers out here in the fresh air.”

  “Well if your humble abode didn’t stink to high heaven, then maybe he would have felt comfortable remaining indoors.” Zokar didn’t relent.

  “That is not fair,” Damien said, a frown coming across his face.

  “I’m right here,” Diamedes interjected. “You can include me in any conversation regarding my health.”

  Zokar shifted his gaze from the Kesh wizard back to the smaller historian. He paused for a moment, even bringing a hand up to his chin, as he pondered his next words. “Quite right. So did you insist on coming outside?”

  Diamedes returned the Balarian assassin’s stern gaze, “I did. The house was far too stinky for my taste.”

  “Hey,” Damien protested.

  Both Diamedes and Zokar chuckled, while Damien and Azor remained silent. “No offense meant,” Diamedes finally answered. “Your assistance in hosting me is greatly appreciated.”

  “It was nothing,” Damien said, either ignoring the insult to his abode or not caring anymore. “Besides, Zokar made a very convincing argument for your care.”

  “Pray tell?” Diamedes asked.

  “He threatened to kill me if I did not provide for you.”

  “No,” Diamedes turned his head to look at the Balarian.

  Zokar shook his head, “More like threatened our good Kesh wizard with the world-wide consequences of not keeping you and your knowledge, rattling around that skull of yours, intact.”

  “Well that would explain much,” Diamedes said, taking time to look from one man to another. “Will you not introduce your companion who plucked me from the foul clench of that cutthroat back in Ulsthor?”

  “This is Azor from the Skull Crusher clan. He is their leader and at least ten other clans have pledged to follow his lead this season,” Zokar said, using a free hand to motion towards the Northman who stood silently with his arms crossed and eyes firmly fixed on Diamedes and Diamedes alone.

  “I guess a thank you is in order for my rescue, though I have many questions if you could spare an evening to answer them?” Diamedes asked politely.

  “Of course and we have many questions for you as well,” Zokar responded.

  “Will you sit?” Diamedes asked.

  “On those rickety chairs?” Zokar asked as his gaze slipped past the men on the porch and he looked inside the house through the open door.

  “Chair,” Damien corrected him.

  “What?” Diamedes asked.

  Damien explained, “There is only one chair remaining, so his question should have been framed in the singular and not the plural. I was simply correcting the man’s skewed observation.”

  “So there are two more guests and you only have one chair remaining.” Diamedes stated the obvious.

  “Here, take my chair,” Damien said, standing and walking into his house where he pulled the third chair across the floor bringing it outside onto the wide porch. “Take this seat.”

  Zokar had nodded and took the first vacant chair, sitting down after turning it sideways so he could face Diamedes. Azor, however, shook his head and simply said to Damien, “I stand, you sit.”

  “You’d be a fool to argue with the Northman,” Zokar said.

  Damien nodded, “I am too tired to die again anytime soon, and Dour is not close by to bring me back.” Damien then sat and faced Zokar.

  “Where do we begin?” Zokar asked.

  “For one, I would greatly appreciate you explaining how we survived a thirty-foot fall, a black dragon, and five assassins chasing us.” Diamedes said. “That would be a good start for me.”

  “Four,” Zokar corrected him.

  “Four?” Diamedes asked.

  Zokar nodded, “Well, after the dragon killed one of them, there were only four who chased us out of the city.”

  “They chased us even after the dragon arrived.”

  “Dragons,” Zokar corrected him again.

  “How many were there?” Diamedes asked.

  “More than one,” Zokar said.

  “Wait a second,” Diamedes winced in pain as he bowed his head and put it in his hands cupping his forehead in his palms and squeezing slightly to alleviate his headache. “You’re getting too far ahead of me. Let’s go to the fall first.”

  “You mean jump,” Zokar continued his correcting.

  “If you say so,” Diamedes countered.

  “I do,” Zokar stated emphatically.

  “Why did we jump?” Diamedes asked. He quickly waved a hand before Zokar could answer, “Never mind, I remember the dragon now.”

  Zokar nodded. “Fastest way to survive an encounter with the black beast.”

  “I remember the acid,” Diamedes said.

  “We all do.” Zokar crossed his arms and nodded again in approval.

  Diamedes took a moment to glace at Azor who stood with his arms crossed unmoving like a statue. Quickly resuming his gaze to the assassin Diamedes asked, “What happened after our… jump?”

  “Yes, well,” Zokar began, “we landed somewhat awkwardly, you on the back of your head, and you lost consciousness. Fortunately for you, Azor managed to pull you out of the path of the crumbling building and carry you to the northern city gates.”

  “What did you say about the building?” Diamedes asked.

  “It was destroyed and nearly fell on top of us,” Zokar answered, his tone smooth but serious.

  “Dragon?”

  “Yes, master historian, the dragon brought the structure down on top of us.” Zokar shifted his gaze to Azor.

  Diamedes followed Zokar’s gaze and said, “Thank you, Azor, for rescuing me.”

  Azor grunted.

  “Also, fortunately for us several of the city guards appeared and engaged the beast over the rubble of the building.” Zokar’s gaze returned.

  Diamedes looked Zokar in the eye, “So how did those assassins find us?”

  “They had swung around the alleyway and down the small side street that fronts the main avenue, you know the place where the artisan and merchant quarters meet?” Zokar asked.

  “They chased us with a dragon on our backs?” Diamedes voice was now raised in disbelief.

  “They did, the bounty must be very high.” Zokar grinned.

  “You know full well what the bounty is and who placed it,” Diamedes frowned at the Balarian. “I can’t believe that you ran from the four of them louts.”

  “Who said we ran from them, eh?” Zokar continued to appear amused by this line of questioning.

  “Then you ran from the dragon,” Diamedes concluded, his voice and posture assuming the role of victor.

  Azor did interject now, “I did not want to run, but Master Zo’kar insisted.”

  Diamedes looked from assassin to barbarian and back again. “Does he speak truthfully? He was prepared to battle the dragon?”

  “He has already killed a wyvern. His honor mandates that he kill a dragon if he is to lead the clans of the nort
h.” Zokar said.

  Diamedes looked at Azor. “So Zokar speaks the truth? You have killed a wyvern?”

  Azor nodded, “Yes, I killed a small demon dragon, but this man lies.” Azor pointed at Zokar.

  “Not this again,” Zokar protested.

  “What is he going on about?” Damien spoke for the first time in a long while.

  “He said we would never meet again and he said this on the field of battle.” Azor’s finger remained pointed at the Balarian.

  Zokar shook his head, “I did say that, but at the time it was true. I never intended to appeal for your help.”

  “But you did,” Azor said.

  “It was necessary once I discovered what had happened in the south,” Zokar explained.

  “What happened in the south?” Damien asked.

  “The occupation,” Zokar prompted the magic-user.

  Damien nodded, “Of course, that was last fall. It has been awhile.”

  “Excuse me,” Diamedes interjected. “What does this have to do with whether or not you ran or if you fought the dragon?”

  Zokar looked back to Diamedes ignoring the accusing finger of the Northman. “It has nothing to do with your question. We got sidetracked. Now, where were we?”

  “Flee or fight the dragon and the four assassins that were chasing us.” Diamedes explained.

  “Chasing you,” Zokar corrected again, “and for the record the dragon appeared to want you as well. How or why I cannot say.”

  “Really?” Diamedes asked.

  “Yes,” both Zokar and Azor said in unison.

  “Then they brought you here,” Damien concluded.

  “Yes, they did, but how did they escape the dragon and four assassins not to mention being in the middle of the Kesh city with guards everywhere?” Diamedes asked again.

  “I don’t relish spending the entire night recounting our escape from Ulsthor,” Zokar began. “Let’s say that we successfully escaped by out running the four ruffians while the black dragon was engaged and occupied with the city guards even though it attempted to use its breath weapon on us twice while it could. Satisfied?” Zokar raised his eyes in a questioning manner as if to ascertain if this truncated version of events would quench the historian’s appetite for knowledge.

  Diamedes understood that he’d have to ask for further details at a later date in time. The Balarian obviously had questions of his own and tired of explaining and rehashing their narrow escape three days prior. “Yes, that is fine by me… for now.”

  The threat of further questions lingered but Zokar took it as an opportunity to proceed. “We have a few questions of our own. How did you enter Kesh alone and undetected?”

  “Eric and Gabby assisted me,” Diamedes answered.

  “Exactly how did they do this?”

  “Zokar, you know the path by which I came. Do not make me name it,” Diamedes said, looking into the black sky as if expecting a dragon to suddenly appear at the mere mention of the ancient’s underground city.

  “I did not know for sure,” Zokar said. “I suspected, but the far western gate is in Kesh controlled territory and is surrounded by trolls. I don’t see how you could pass through Highstone Pass undetected to reach it.”

  “That’s because I didn’t go through the pass,” Diamedes said. “What you don’t know is that there is a third passageway that runs from the middle of the ancient’s underground city directly north to the mountain top lair of one of the white dragons high in the Felsic Mountains. Since this northern route is outside of Kesh controlled territory, I was able to secretly enter Kesh from the eastern gate.”

  “Hmm,” Zokar brought a hand up to his chin and rubbed it. “This explains much. Did Eric Bain escort you to Ulsthor?”

  “No,” Diamedes clarified. “Only to the gate itself, and don’t blame him. I insisted on going alone. He would be too recognized and was too well known by the Kesh to do me any good.”

  “Oh bother,” Damien said, a sigh escaping after he spoke.

  “What’s that to mean?” Diamedes had to practically turn and look over his shoulder at the Kesh man.

  “You are much more well known in Kesh than a simple mercenary, even one of Eric Bain’s stature.” Damien said.

  “I agree,” Zokar said.

  Diamedes mimicked the Balarian’s gesture, rubbing his own chin and looking down at his sandaled feet where his shivering toes protested against the cool night air. “In hindsight, I’d have to agree with both of you, but I thought I only needed to enter the city and find my way to Dour’s temple to find sanctuary.”

  “You trust an Akun cleric?” Zokar asked.

  “Dour can be trusted,” Damien said, sticking up for his friend.

  “Dour’s loyalties oftentimes lean towards whoever has the fattest purse,” Zokar stated, truth evident in his voice.

  “But not all the time,” Damien said, clinging to his beliefs.

  “Let’s just agree that our good historian made a poor decision for once in his life,” Zokar said.

  “Agreed,” Diamedes answered for Damien. “Now how did you find me?”

  Zokar frowned but answered anyway. “One of the Arnen from the far north informed me of your deeds with a red dragon.”

  “Impressive for such a small southerner,” Azor chimed in. His body stance had long ago returned to the stoic folded arms poise where his muscles bulged, and his appearance was fierce.

  “Was the druid Elister by name?” Diamedes asked hopefully.

  “No, he went by the name of Brown Leaf and he mentioned leaving for a conclave of his order in the far west.” Zokar explained.

  “Hmm, that would be an alias in place of his true name,” Diamedes said.

  “Why would he lie?” Damien asked.

  “He didn’t lie,” Diamedes corrected the Kesh wizard. “Amongst those with whom the Arnen are not so friendly, he would use his common wood name.”

  Zokar frowned at this, but said, “Obviously he was never called Master Leaf.”

  “Yes, quite right,” Diamedes said. “So how does his telling of my dragon encounter lead you here?”

  Zokar answered, “He said you had confided in him that you would make for Ulsthor to seek council from a fellow minister. Unfortunately for us, we had no time frame and spent months looking for you until we stumbled across rumors of your recent arrival.”

  “But you didn’t know for sure that I would be in Ulsthor,” Diamedes prompted.

  “Correct. The time frame was unknown, but our mission demanded we stay in the city and search for any sign of your arrival. Obviously, you practically announced it for not only us, but the bounty hunters as well.” Zokar said.

  “I thought hiding in the military wagon was a brilliant idea,” Diamedes said.

  “It was,” Zokar said. “Your problem was when you exited the wagon and entered the Velvet Vest. Your pickle craving nearly killed you.”

  “You are kidding, right?” Damien chimed in, looking in disbelief at the historian but addressing his question to the Balarian.

  Zokar didn’t hesitate in answering, “I do not jest. This man nearly died from his desire to eat a pickle.”

  Diamedes blushed and shrugged, looking down at his feet again not wanting to confront his accuser. “It was more than one pickle, and I had no idea that I’d be spotted so quickly.”

  “If it’s any consolation to you, a spotter saw you exiting the military stables and knew right away that you were suspicious,” Zokar said.

  “Spotter?” Diamedes asked.

  “A stable boy,” Zokar explained. “The guilds and bounty hunters utilize nearly half the town as informants in one way or another. You were also spotted at the Vest by a barmaid and two servers. All were too eager to turn you in for a few pieces of silver.”

  “Is the bounty that low?” Diamedes asked.

  “No,” Zokar said. “However, times are tough, and most citizens of Kesh will do nigh to anything for a leg up. Silver is quite good now considering how dif
ficult it is to earn even a handful of coppers.”

  “Well, it’s not much of a consolation for me, but I appreciate the information nonetheless.”

  “You lucky man.” Azor said, referring to Diamedes.

  “You are a lucky man,” Damien corrected.

  Azor narrowed his eyes and his upper lip twitched slightly, “Are you correcting me?” The emphasis on the prior missing word was unmistakable.

  “I suppose so…” Damien said, looking at Zokar who shook his head slightly as a sign that the wizard should cease while he was still alive. Damien couldn’t resist. “You know you also mix up said and told as well.”

  “Bad idea,” Zokar said looking at Damien who crossed his own arms and leaned back appearing to try to put as much distance between him and the Northman even if it were only a few inches.

  “I no thi—” Azor stopped in mid-word and leaned forward in what appeared as an attempt to close the small distance that the Kesh wizard had tried to put between them. “I do not think that you would understand my language… so be… placated that I do not speak to you… thusly.”

  “Placated?” Damien seemed confused.

  “Arik houn a tot Keshta ni kune,” Azor reverted to the Northman language.

  Diamedes raised a hand between the two men, “My understanding of his language is flawed, but I think he said he may kill you for your words.”

  Azor interjected, “I speak his language and even his dialect fluently, and he said he would flay the Kesh man alive for his insolence.”

  “I think we are done with language lessons for today,” Damien said, standing and nodding at his companions. Looking sideways at Azor the Kesh wizard entered his home and shut the door, though it still creaked open slightly.

  “Wise man,” Zokar said.

  Azor leaned back and grunted, resuming his statue like stance.

  Diamedes resumed his questioning, “So you learned through these… informants that I finally arrived in Ulsthor?”

  Zokar took a moment to look at Azor and assess if the man was calm or not. Then, resuming his gaze on the historian, he said, “Yes,” Zokar turned the tables and asked his own question. “Where have you been all this time?”

  Diamedes sighed and then said, “I took some time with Alexi, The Fist of Astor, after our encounter with the red dragon. Dour and Damien returned to Kesh while our ranger companion, Felix, headed southwest to the Druid’s conclave.”