Lord Of Dragons (Book 2) (5 page)

"Won't you both come with me?" The clerk glanced at the ornate, brass clock on the desk and stood. "Lord Oberon has a moment available to speak with you."

As she was about to follow the man, she felt Tael's hands on her wrist. His worried eyes held her in place. He whispered in her ear. "We need to be careful in there, I suddenly had a horrible feeling that our lives are in danger."

Keysher glanced back at them and frowned in suspicion. "Are you coming? Lord Oberon doesn't have much time to spare." He strode down a long hallway lined with framed charcoal sketches of nude figures in various poses of torture. Sebine winced and remembered Tael's words and wished they were riding their dragons to Shaar'el instead of begging for a ship's passage. Damn him, damn Master Vhelan for abandoning her. Couldn't he have left them at least one dragon?

At the end of the hallway, Sebine shifted next to Tael as the clerk knocked on the door and entered, forcing them to wait in the hallway. She used the time to think about the best way to deal with Lord Oberon. This all depended on whether or not he was alone...

"Time to visit Lord Oberon," the clerk said, and gestured towards the slightly open door.

Sebine felt her heart speed up and hammer in her chest as she went to enter the room. Inside, she found an old man with shock white hair and devious eyes sitting at a brass and leather desk. In the corner, almost blending in perfectly with the shadows, stood the silhouette of a beautiful woman with long, silky-black hair and almond-shaped eyes. Her gaze probed deep into Sebine's mind.

Chapter Five

MASTER VHELAN RARELY enjoyed flying for any length of time, especially considering how old his tired back felt, and he particularly despised flying through wind and snow in the cold northlands. Was all the suffering and strife against the Princes of Naverstrom really worth the effort? Especially since in all likelihood the Hakkadians living in the north had all turned their eyes away from the truth of their ancient gods.
The effects of two hundred years of corruption by the taint of Naverstrom
. And he was only one of a handful of souls who remembered life before the Hakkadians had made the horrific mistake of adventuring deep inside those caves...

If only they had listened to me, and listened to our seers
. He remembered the words of warning given by the women of the soothsayer clan, an ancient line now erased for well over a hundred years.
After they communicated one too many prophecies of doom for our people
. Their lives were so easily obliterated from the world, like a wet finger snuffing out a candle. Would there still remain a Hakkadian people in another hundred years? Or would they vanish in the fabric of time, like the soothsayer clan?

In a way they had foretold all this to happen. The corruption and ruin of the human kings. The rise of the dark elves and their treachery against the high elves. The diaspora of the dwarves throughout the northern reaches, and the fractured line of dwarven kings. But what he had failed to tell Master Greyth Shalinor was that the ancient kingdom in the steppes north of Shaar'el was in truth the Hakkadian Kingdom of ten thousand years ago. He had discovered this in his visions as had the seers of the soothsayer clan. But only the seers had seen that their Kingdom would be rebuilt and rise again in its power. A vision Master Vhelan doubted would ever come true.

Mistress Lassendre pointed at a flash of light coming from the side of the snow-capped mountain of Karkellian. The signal they had been waiting to discover: an ambassador within the dwarven ranks would finally listen to them. In the two meetings they had had with the dwarves they were greeted with suspicion and mockery, as if their story of an approaching army of half-elf, half-dragons were simply too ridiculous to believe. Vhelan didn't blame them...

His dragon dove through the flittering snow towards the flashing light and soon they approached the mouth of a massive cave set into the mountain. A dwarf stood out in the snow studying their arrival with critical eyes. Their dragons landed and snorted smoke in suspicion of the dwarf, and Master Vhelan floated off his mount and landed on the ice-covered snow. He studied the young dwarf who sported a still short beard, and upon receiving a grunt of acknowledgement, followed the lad into the cave.
 

The dragons trotted along after them into the massive cave, but after sniffing the stink of dwarves they belched out fire and resisted going in past the first cavern. Ignoring the stubborn dragons, the dwarf continued to waddle his way down another shaft. Vhelan told the dragons to go hunting for mountain sheep in the valley down below, but commanded them to return and rest before nightfall. He couldn't risk having the dragons being intercepted by enemy Hakkadian sorcerers.

Twisting tunnels led them deeper and deeper down into the heart of the mountain. Master Vhelan shed his furs as the caverns they passed were often filled with lava and the temperature rose the deeper they descended into the mountain. After hours of tiresome trekking through the caves, they reached a massive iron gate guarded with hundreds of suspicious-eyed dwarves wielding steel hammers and cloaked in shiny ringmail armor. They had reached the underground city of the dwarves.
 

An old dwarf with a long, grey beard that was forked in two spat at their approach. "Who decided to invite Hakkadian scum into Magrad? We've no used for your foul magic here... Go on back to your polluted mountain where you belong, and leave us to our peace."

"Peace?" Master Vhelan sniffed. "It seems the air around Magrad is tainted with seer's vapors. For you seemed affected by hallucinations, dwarf. There is no peace anymore, war has come to the Dwarven Kingdom!"

Instead of anger, the squad of dwarven soldiers laughed and slapped their bellies, eying Master Vhelan as if he were mad.
 

"Oh, we'd love a good war, we would. We're tired of bashing human skulls in our little border skirmishes. And the elves don't even take our taunts seriously." The old dwarf studied his fellow soldier with a questioning look. "Am I missing any enemies, Turgun?"

Turgun shook his head and tried to stop himself from laughing. "Maybe the snow and the cold are at war with us, and the dangerous wind outside?" This earned him a few chuckles. "Or maybe your noxious farts, Thran? Now that's a serious enemy to contend with..." The soldiers nodded their heads in mock seriousness.

Master Vhelan hung his head and wondered why he bothered coming here to help the dwarves. The youth that had brought him here had disappeared, and now the soldiers stared at him in a cold stillness. Thran caught Vhelan's glance at the iron door.

"Forget about it, sorcerer. We'd never allow your kind to enter the fair halls of Magrad. Consider yourself lucky that I bothered to come out and speak with you. Unless you have anything interesting to say, I have better things to do inside." The old dwarf turned to leave.

"Better things to do?" Master Vhelan chuckled softly. "Like practicing the skill of being a slave? You'll need all the preparation you can, slaving away for the Princes of Naverstrom... Might want to get started, for if you spurn me now, the next Hakkadians you see will be the ones melting your paltry iron gates. And don't think for a moment that those meager runes will stop Hakkadian magic."

"You dare to come here threatening me and my people? Whatever fight you have with these princes is no fight of ours. And we don't meddle with the civil strife amongst a people. If you have disputes with other Hakkadians, that is none of our concern."

Master Vhelan flourished his fingers and caused the dwarves to jump in alarm. A fine stream of silvery particles shot out from his fingertips and illuminated the cave wall with a snowy scene of a mountain pass, where Vhelan and his allies had hidden themselves for hours, hoping to witness the draenyx army in their path east towards the dwarves. Snaking over the pass appeared four strands of marching creatures with stunted wings and shiny scales, some black and some blood-red. The dwarves gasped and whispered amongst themselves.

"Is this some trick? A magical illusion meant to provoke us into war?" Thran swatted the air with his massive steel hammer.
 

"This is no trick," Mistress Lassendre said, and the arrival of her presence provoked quite an interest in the eyes of the dwarves. She was a beauty to behold. "I have seen these draenyx, as the Princes of Naverstrom have named them, with my own eyes. We've done enough talking and wasted too much time already. If you won't believe our words, then let your own eyes tell you the truth. Send your most trusted scouts with us to witness this army, and then you will believe the truth and prepare for war!"
 

"They have come for your forges and factories of war." Master Vhelan studied the fear rising in Thran's eyes. "An army of vicious half-elf, half-dragon warriors they have, but they lack swords and shields and instruments of war. Without the help of my dragons and the magic of my allies, you will fail to stop them from taking your city."

Mistress Lassendre strode up and placed her small, white hand on Thran's arm. "Don't let them surprise you. Come with us, ride our dragons, and see with your own eyes the horror that will soon infect your kingdom."

Thran stroked his long beard and mused on her words for a time. Finally, he nodded and motioned for Turgun to follow him. "I will go myself...a general must see his enemy with his own eyes before planning a battle strategy. And to ensure this is no trap, your woman will stay here under guard until we return. Acceptable?"

"Of course, and as you will see, we harbor no ill will against the dwarves." Master Vhelan sent a silent message to Mistress Lassendre. Once inside the dwarven city she would execute their plan. Everything was going exactly as he had anticipated...

Chapter Six

IN THE STORIES Tael had heard of the dark arts, life was returned to the dead through a demon. But after he witnessed the harvesting of the heads by the guards outside, he wondered if that applied to the art of witchcraft found in the Islands of Marr. He pictured the demon-infested body of Master Loral and believed that demons only chose living hosts to infest. But why was the witch here harvesting body parts for some strange experiment in her laboratory?

"The boy is staring at me as if a dark question haunts his mind." The woman's melodic, heavily accented voice broke the silence of their entry into Lord Oberon's chamber.

"Forgive my friend," Prince Sebine said, and gave Tael an irritated glance. "I'm sure he is quite taken with your beauty."

The woman raised her lips in a half-smile and ignored the Princess, and instead kept her gaze fixed on Tael. He felt uncomfortable from her stare, and wiped the sweat beading along his forehead.

"Remove the girl from the room," the woman said. "I don't want her interference while I speak with the boy."

Lord Oberon rose from his chair in obedience and led Sebine outside. Tael wondered who ruled Glar Bay, the woman or the man? She showed no deference to him and had failed to remove her eyes from Tael the entire time. Oberon returned and closed the door, and sat at his chair once again.

"So my clerk has given me your grandfather's letter." Lord Oberon scanned the paper in his shaking hands. "Master Greyth Shalinor is quite famous in Glar Bay, and he visits here frequently. We had no idea his grandson still lived, especially after the tragedy with your parents. To be honest with you, I was shocked when King Braxion made such a strange move and hired the Black Heart Assassin Clan to murder your parents. Luckily for you, we make it a habit of seizing and torturing any of the Clan who are foolish enough to enter Glar Bay. Their power base is in Fanon, a long ways away from here."

"My grandfather informed me that his name is well-known in Glar Bay."

"Yes, but not well-liked." The woman's face seemed even prettier when she scowled.

Lord Oberon waved the suggestion away with his hand. "Magicians never seem to like each other. Like blademasters and princes and singers, they are always competing against each other. The good news for you is Jesmia seems to like you, young master Tael. At least for me this is a momentous occasion, as she rarely likes anyone..."