Dragons' Onyx (43 page)

When they all entered the inn, they found Boris sitting at a table with a plate of food in front of him. He was devouring the food and did not appear to notice anyone else in the room. The rest of the mages sat down at the table and ordered food.

“I guess he is rather hungry,” Balamor remarked to Podil. “That is an interesting side effect that I would like to study.”

“You will have to study it some other time,” Boris said as he pushed the empty plate away from him. “We have tasks to accomplish here in Southland, and time is not our friend. Mustar, I want you to find a place to buy horses. I want seven of the finest that you can get.”

“We have four now,” frowned Mustar. “Why so many?”

“The four we have are not going with us,” replied Master Khatama as he shoved a small pouch of gold across the table. “I want horses that are sturdy enough to handle mountain trails and energetic enough to travel long days. Can you handle that?”

“Yes,” sighed Mustar, “I can handle being an errand boy. Why me?”

“Podil,” continued Master Khatama as he ignored Mustar, “I want you to make up travel packs for us. We will need extra clothing and several pairs of gloves for each of us.”

“Six packs?” questioned the elf magician.

“Only four,” Boris shook his head. “Fredrik and Niki will not be coming with us.”

“I see,” nodded Podil as a frown fell over Niki’s face. “I will do as you wish.”

“Balamor,” Boris continued as he handed a slip of paper to Balamor, “I want you to find a canvas shop if you can. I have a list here of our requirements. If you cannot find one suitable in the city, then make arrangements to contract with one elsewhere.”

“Does all of this go to the address on this paper?” questioned Balamor.

“It does,” nodded Master Khatama. “Time is also critical for what I want. Make sure that the people you deal with understand that. I will not be held back by something trivial.”

“I understand completely,” smiled the old fisherman. “I will see to it.”

“What about us?” Niki said angrily. “Are you planning on leaving me and Fredrik behind? After all we have done for you?”

“Hush, Niki,” Fredrik pleaded quietly. “Master Khatama has a lot on his mind right now.”

“I don’t care what is on his mind,” Niki said angrily with her voice rising enough to draw attention from the other patrons in the inn. “He can’t just abandon us here in this city. “I will not stand for it.”

Mustar’s eyebrows rose as he observed Niki’s tantrum. He pushed his plate away and rose to leave. Podil quietly rose and headed for the door. Balamor sat staring at the slip of paper that was given to him by Master Khatama. He did not even noticed when Boris stood and spoke to Fredrik.

“Bring Niki along,” he said softly to Fredrik. “I have something on my list that requires both of you.”

Boris walked out the front door of the inn and waited on the street. Fredrik led a stubborn Niki out of the inn and stood alongside him.

“Where are we going?” Fredrik asked.

“We need to find a temple of one of the lesser gods,” Master Khatama said as his eyes wandered the streets and the passing pedestrians.

“Which lesser god?” inquired Fredrik as Niki pouted.

“The goddess Leda,” answered the Mage. “She is not mentioned much any more by the people, but then they do not understand the gods anyway. I hope she has a temple in this city.”

“I have never heard of Leda,” remarked Fredrik. “What do you mean that the people do not understand the gods?”

“They just don’t,” shrugged Master Khatama. “Stories get lost being passed down through the ages. After a while, one would not recognize the original tale. That is of little consequence now. Ask around about the temple of Leda. I will go to the left, and you go to the right.”

“What about me?” scowled Niki. “Am I just to be left behind like a forgotten piece of luggage?”

“You may travel with either of us as you desire,” Boris replied neutrally as he strode off to the left in search of the temple.

Niki watched Master Khatama and Fredrik part ways. She stood in the street, fixed with indecision for several moments. Suddenly, she turned and ran after Boris. She caught up to him and tugged on his tunic.

“Why are you doing this?” she yelled.

“You chose me over Fredrik?” questioned the Mage with a puzzled frown.

“No,” Niki shook her head violently. “I will always be with Fredrik, but I want to know why you are abandoning me. I thought we had a special relationship,” she continued as tears started to roll down her cheeks. “You were like a father to me. How can you just abandon me?”

“This is not the way I want you to remember me,” Boris said comfortingly. “You must learn to have faith in those you love. Walk with me.”

In silence they walked through the streets of Southland. They passed temples to several of the gods. Some were modest in size, while others were quite large and obviously used on a daily basis. Boris noticed that the temple of Abuud was marred by fire and vandalism. He shook his head sadly as he gazed at the pitted walls and stained walkways of the temple.

After about an hour of walking, Fredrik met them. “I could find no temple of Leda,” he announced. “Nor could I find anyone who knew of one. I suspect that Southland does not have one.”

Boris stood gazing down an alley, seemingly oblivious to Fredrik’s words. Suddenly, he walked away from Fredrik and Niki and headed down the alley. They quickly followed him. Halfway down the alley was a small weathered door with a strange symbol on it. Boris pushed the door open and walked into a small room with a statue on the far wall. Fredrik and Niki followed Master Khatama into the little room. A curtain at the rear of the room parted and an old man hobbled out. He stood staring at the three visitors, but he said nothing. Niki stared at the statue of a young woman with a child at her breast.

“You are the priest of Leda?” asked Boris.

“I am,” nodded the old man. “Have you come to worship?”

“No,” smiled Boris. “We have come for a wedding.”

Fredrik and Niki stared at each other with open mouths and wide eyes. Niki wiped the tears from her cheeks.

“There is no better place for a wedding than the temple of Leda,” smiled the old man. “Are you the father of the bride?”

“For this purpose I am,” nodded Boris.

The old priest stared at Master Khatama for a long moment before he nodded. He disappeared through the curtains and came back wearing a flowing yellow robe and a towering headdress. Boris positioned Fredrik and Niki facing the statue of Leda as the priest stood behind them.

Niki stared at the statue as the priest recited the marriage rites. Part way through the ceremony, Niki was sure that she had seen the statue move. She wiped the tears from her eyes and shook her head. She dismissed the notion and concentrated on the priest’s words.

The ceremony was short. Master Khatama pressed several gold coins into the hand of the priest and the old man passed through the curtains and did not reappear. Fredrik kissed Niki passionately and then seemed to remember that Master Khatama was in the room.

“I am intruding,” smiled Boris as he hugged Niki and kissed her on the cheek.

“No,” cried Niki. “You are never intruding. This was so sweet of you, and I have been so mean. Can you forgive me?”

Boris smiled as he reached into his pouch and brought out a small box. He handed the box to Fredrik.

“This box is to be given to King Arik,” Master Khatama stated. “Please see that he gets it. I am afraid that I have little to give you to facilitate the start of your lives together, but I give you what I can besides my love. Take my wagon and all that it holds. The spare horses are yours as well. Never lose faith in one another.”

Boris hugged Fredrik and left the room.

“Who could have imagined?” cried Niki as Fredrik hugged her. “I want to go with him.”

“That is not possible,” Fredrik said softly. “This is his way of saying goodbye. He said that he had little to give us, but he gave each of us that which is most important to us. He gave us each other.”

“Why isn’t it possible?” asked Niki. “If we both go, we will still be together. I do not see the reason for being left behind.”

“He is not planning on coming back, Niki,” explained Fredrik. “Ever.”

“I don’t care if we ever see Southland again,” puzzled Niki. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“I don’t mean Southland,” Fredrik said sadly. “I mean that we will never see him again. Nobody will.”

“You mean he is going to die?” cried Niki. “How can he? I thought he was immortal?”

“I do not understand what is happening,” conceded Fredrik, “but I understand his emotion. Whatever Master Khatama is up to, it is the end of his life as we know it.”

“No,” screamed Niki as she tried to break free from Fredrik and run into the alley. “I will find him and talk him out of it.”

“No, Niki,” soothed Fredrik. “He will not allow us to find him. Trust me. This was his goodbye.”

“But why?” sobbed Niki.

“Who can say?” shrugged Fredrik. “Life is full of mysteries. I cannot even explain why the statue changed during the ceremony.”

“It did move then?” questioned Niki. “I thought that I was imagining it.”

“Look at it,” pointed Fredrik. “When we came in, the child was nursing on the other side. I don’t even know why Master Khatama insisted on having the ceremony at the temple of the goddess of fertility.”

“Fertility?” echoed Niki. “How do you know that is what Leda stands for?”

“Weren’t you listing to the priest?” asked Fredrik.

“Most of the time,” Niki frowned as she remembered getting distracted by the statue. “Do you suppose it means anything?”

“I don’t know,” admitted Fredrik. “All I know is that Master Khatama cared a great deal for you. He truly treated you as his daughter today. Let’s always remember him as he was here in this room.”

“I will,” smiled Niki as she hugged Fredrik. “What do we do with the wagon?”

“We head to Tagaret,” answered Fredrik. “I still own a mansion there.”

King Arik walked out the door of Jorgel’s hut and stared at the dragon curled up in the clearing. Wyka’s right eye opened briefly and then closed again.

“Your nap is over,” smiled the king. “Light the morning fire so I can have a hot meal before we leave.”

“Before we leave?” echoed the dragon. “Where are we going?”

“To kill Gorga,” answered King Arik as Jorgel entered the clearing with a bucket of fresh water.

“So soon?” asked the dragon after she had breathed flames into the fire pit.

“Today is the day,” nodded the king as he washed his hands in the bucket. “I will not put it off any longer. There is too much danger heading towards Tagaret for me to delay.”

“Very well,” sighed Wyka. “I was hoping to get to know you a little bit before you died.”

“Now what kind of way is that to speak to the king?” scowled Jorgel. “I thought you were going to protect him while he battled that nasty cousin of yours?”

“My task is not to protect Dragon Heart,” retorted Wyka. “I will deliver him to Gorga’s lair and nothing more. I could not fit in the small tunnel that he will have to use in any event.”

“How does Gorga get into his lair?” asked King Arik. “Surely, he could not fit in this small tunnel either.”

“The dragon lairs of Gorga are centered around an ancient volcano,” replied the dragon. “The entry is quite large, but totally impassable for a human. There are small vent tunnels that were created ages ago. The dragons like lairs with those connecting tunnels because they provide good airflow. Of course, they also facilitate entry for lesser forms of life.”

“Like humans?” frowned Jorgel. “Is that what you meant by lesser forms of life?”

“Like humans,” grinned Wyka. “If you would care to see one, I am sure that I could arrange it.”

“I am not keen on tunnels,” Jorgel replied quickly as he turned his back and began preparing the morning meal.

“I didn’t think so,” needled Wyka.

“So you know which of these air vents leads to Gorga’s lair?” inquired King Arik.

“Of course,” replied Wyka. “I will even take you there. That is the extent of my help.”

“I understand,” nodded the king. “I am thankful for what you have done to help me, Wyka. I know this is difficult for you. I will not ask for more from you.”

“You should,” interrupted Jorgel. “That nasty dragon will kill you for sure. The smaller ones are nasty enough, but that big one is a killer. You should forget this task and return home while you can.”

“I cannot do that,” King Arik smiled thinly. “Whether it be death or victory, this is what I am tasked to do. I have no choice.”

“Everybody has a choice,” retorted the old man. “You are just stubborn and refuse to admit it.”

“Will he see me approaching?” the king asked Wyka while ignoring Jorgel’s taunts.

“His right eye still functions properly,” replied the dragon. “I am sure that he will have it trained on that small tunnel. There is no other way for you to approach.”

King Arik knew that Wyka was not being entirely truthful with him. Wyka could take him into the dormant volcano if she wanted to. Then he would be able to attack Gorga from behind, but he decided not to push the issue. He wasn’t sure why Wyka did not want to help him, but he figured it must have something to do with the Dragon Prophecy. He walked over to the fire pit and helped himself to some of the venison stew that Jorgel had prepared.

“I normally don’t care much for chatty people,” Jorgel said, breaking the silence of the morning, “but I don’t care much for your silent brooding either. Are you finally beginning to see the wisdom of my advice?”

“Sorry,” King Arik replied distractedly. “I am just thinking about Gorga and how I can kill him.”

“I never thought humans put much mental effort into planning,” chuckled Wyka. “Don’t you just jump in front of the dragon and threaten them with your sword?”

“That’s probably the only way you could ever hope to catch a human,” Jorgel countered. “Don’t underestimate this lad. He is a thinker. I saw that the first I met him. He will find a way to do it.”