Offspring (The Sword of the Dragon) (36 page)

Willing her sword to glow again, Oganna let it clothe her in the silver dress. The man spun and took a step back, eying her up and down.

“Despicable.” She let her eyes bore into his. “It is hard for me to accept that some people are as cruel as you. How dare you torture a megatrath just to maintain this facade. You are no spirit!”

“What—you found your way in here?”

“You are coming with me, sir.” She raised Avenger and frowned. “I want you to tell these creatures that you are mere flesh and blood! And I want you to repent of this evil you have done. Deceiving these creatures with this ancient technology—that is what this is, is it not? Some advanced machinery that you have learned to manipulate?”

“I do not have to answer your questions, child.” He flipped his sword in his hand and scraped its tip on the floor. “Treat me with respect, or I will soon show you that tricks are not my only talent.” With a swift motion he brought his sword toward her throat. She ducked under it and shoved his blade aside with the Avenger.

A smile curled his lips. His shoulder-length hair was gray, and his face was wrinkled, but he fought with great strength. Each time his sword smote hers she was forced to grip her hilt with both hands. He swung his sword in a V motion, always facing her, and steadily drove her back.

Beads of sweat moistened her forehead. She lost ground and struggled to keep her tired feet from slipping on the smooth panels. The recent journey through the desert and her encounter with Loos had drained her of energy. Her knees buckled, and she wavered in her defense.

“I
am
a spirit. You cannot win against a spirit.” He held his sword in one hand and reached behind his back.

Too late, she saw him slide out a second sword. He swung it like a club and smote her on the head. Stars danced through her vision and, as she fell, she heard him laugh.

Bright green grass waved all around. Puffy white clouds dotted the blue sky overhead, and a gentle breeze moved the clean, warm air across Oganna’s face. She blinked and raised her hand to her face. Yes, she had a welt where the pretender had hit her.

She shook her head. What had happened? Where was she? The field she was lying in extended as far as her eyes could see on all sides. A shadow fell upon her from behind. She turned.

“Hello.” A wrinkled man with a long white beard that nearly reached the ground sidled in front of her and offered a hand. He was barefooted, and his body was wrapped with a snow-white toga, while on his head he wore an equally white turban. “Are you lost, child?”

Without answering, she accepted his hand and stood up. In her other hand the sword Avenger burned furiously, reflecting its red hues against her silver garment.

The elder who helped her up was short. His turban didn’t even reach her shoulder. His eyes were bright blue and his ears were at least three times as large as hers.

He eyed her weapon and vestments. “What is your name?”

Ignoring his question, she responded, “Where am I? What has happened?” She squinted her eyes, looking skyward, and recalled the duel with the stranger.

The little man stroked his beard, then looked up at her. “Thoughts—your mind is full of them.” He reached up with his hand and touched her forehead.

As he withdrew his hand, a web of light pulled from her forehead. Instinct told her to stop him, but another conflicting sense restrained her. If he had wanted to harm her, he could have done so while she was lying in the field.

For a moment the man held the web of light in his hand and stared at it as it glowed. Then he closed his fingers over his palm, stretched out his arm, shook his hand a few times, and threw the webbing into the wind. As soon as it left his hand, it burst into fine dust and settled on the ground. There an image formed—an image of pure light—of Oganna’s recent duel. It replayed her struggle, then destabilized and disappeared.

The old man looked at Oganna. His eyes looked playful. “That is how you came here.”

“Where am I?”

Once more he touched her forehead. “Does that feel better?”

She reached up to feel for her welt, but it was gone. “Thank you.”

“It is not worth mentioning, my dear. Now, tell me, this man you were fighting, do you know him?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“Good, then I will send you back so that you can finish your fight.” He walked off at a brisk pace and called for her to follow.

Within half an hour they topped a rise and stared down a hill at a great lake rimmed by a vast city. “My home,” said the man, “and your pathway back to Osira.”

“Osira? What is Osira?”

The old man swallowed hard. “My mistake! I meant to say it is your pathway back to Subterran.”

Her brow furrowed. “I am not on Subterran? Are you trying to say … what, that I am on
another
world?”

He laughed and pointed at the ground behind her. “You didn’t notice that you have two shadows?” When she looked behind, she saw he was right. He told her to look at the sky again. “Does your world have two suns?”

She looked up and couldn’t help gaping in astonishment. “I am on another world.”

“Yes, you are on mine.” He waved a hand toward the city and beamed with pride. “We have perfected our society. Unlike your world, we do not need instruments of war. We rest in the Creator’s peace. But come! I mustn’t reveal all mysteries to you, for then I would be at fault for interfering in your future.”

“But how do you know of my world?”

“We are familiar with it—but little more than that.” He halted and faced her. “Let me give you a word of advice.”

“Certainly.” She shook her head. The sudden transference to this place felt like a dream, dizzying.

“When you get back to your fight, don’t rely as much on your physical strength.” His eyes roved from the sword to her silver garb. “There is a lot of strength in you. Yes—much potential! I see that you can use the power of dragon blood, and you are not an amateur at it.” Leaning closer, he winked. “I would say you must be part dragon.”

She started in surprise, and he laughed. “When you return to your fight, use your dragon side—your powerful side—the side that grants you the use of potent energies unique to your blood.”

They had not reached his city before he stopped, stooped, and pressed his hand on something in the ground. Then he stood up and waited as an exquisitely carved gazebo rose before them. “I regret not having the time to show you more,” he said. “I have thoroughly enjoyed meeting you.”

He led her onto the gazebo platform and ordered her to stand on a pad at its center. Then he bowed low, kissed her hand, pulled a lever, and she found herself lying at her opponent’s feet in the subterranean antechamber.

The old man’s words flashed through her mind. “Use your dragon side,” she repeated.

The ‘spirit’ looked down in shock and his sword shook in his hand as he pointed it in her face. “How did you do that? You were out cold.” As she rose, he struck at her.

This time she closed her eyes and felt the substance of everything in the surrounding area. She could feel the walls, the floor, and the electrical energy running through the ancient platform. She drew power from her sword and reached out with her mind. She raised her hand and clenched her fist, pulling the stones from the ceiling and from the walls so that they broke up.

Her opponent screamed and dropped one of his swords as the stones pinned him. “Please. Don’t kill me! I beg of you, please let me live. I meant no harm to the megatraths.”

She scowled. She wouldn’t leave him to die. Besides, Vectra had to be shown the truth. She reached out with her mind, throwing the stones from his body with a mere thought, and then dragged him toward the door she’d entered previously. The anteroom collapsed. Stones fell on the wall panels and sparks sailed in all directions. A string of energy lashed at the man, drawing blood from his chest. As he grabbed at his wound, a stone slammed into his shoulder, cracking bone. A panel loosened from the wall and flipped end-over-end onto the lighted floor panels. Electrical current raced along the panels, snapping at her soles. Bolts zigzagged along the walls, and an explosion rocked the chamber floor.

After pulling the pretender through the door, she closed it behind her. Letting out a long breath, she leaned against the wall, slumped to the floor. Her shoulder hit an ancient lever that flipped and turned the lights on, illuminating the main chamber. Stones grated again and two more doorways slid open along the opposite wall.

The mighty Vectra raised her head slowly and stepped forward. The chamber was large and the ceiling high. She glanced at the tiled walls and squinted at the bulbous orb glaring from far above. Then she looked at Oganna, and bewilderment reigned in her eyes. She lumbered forward, towering over the wounded man.

Oganna kicked rubble to the side and shook her head at Vectra. “There is no spirit in these walls. There never was. He is only a man utilizing the strange mechanisms of this buried civilization to further his own esteem in your eyes.” She looked at the humbled pretender. “I wonder how long he has lived down here—apparently alone. Vectra, you said that you came to this place as a
megling
. Did you see the spirit then, too?”

“Yes, I have seen him my whole life.” She stared wide-eyed at the imposter. “And I have lived a
long
time. Longer than any human should.”

“Well,” Oganna said as she laid her hands on the man’s wounds, “then he must be very old—for a
human
that is.” Ignoring her exhaustion, she poured healing energy into the man. His bruises and wounds healed before her very eyes.

She patted his cheeks. “I think he’s fainted. He has lost a lot of blood.” The wrinkled man stirred, his eyelids fluttered open, and he looked in defeat upon her and the megatrath. “Well, sir,” Oganna began, “you had better explain yourself.”

“Please, wizard,” he said. “I meant no harm.” He swallowed hard. “Six hundred years ago I was a guest of the megatraths, and while I was exploring these ancient passageways I happened into this chamber. Please do not take me away. Let me die in the home I have found within these ruins.”

“You have deceived me ever since I was young?” Vectra exhaled a noxious fume. “You do not deserve an honorable death. I should kill you here and now.”

The gray-haired man grasped his sword and held it between him and the creature. “This weapon allows me to command these ancient workings to do whatsoever I will, and if I wish it I can destroy you.”

Smoke roiled between Vectra’s teeth. She pointed at Oganna, and her retracted claws slid out of her fingers. “This coming from you who failed to defeat a young woman? You should be in dread of me, deceiver. I can almost taste your blood in my mouth and feel your arms crushed between my jaws as I suspend you above the depths of my underground realm. I would drop you into the abandoned cities and, before your demise, you would curse the moment you challenged me.”

Oganna stood between them and shook her head. She glanced at the megatrath and then at the man. “It was a cruel thing you did to Vectra when she was young. Was that your reward for her kind’s hospitality?”

“But I did not do that on purpose. I swear!” He cupped his hands and looked at Vectra’s toothy face. “There was a mechanism—I did not know what it would do, so I did not plan to touch it—but my elbow brushed against it and—”

“And my body burned with inner fire. Something I have not forgotten, deceiver.” The megatrath exhaled yellow vapor.

“But I found a way to shut if off. The pain stopped. Didn’t it?” His face brightened, and he brushed dust from his beard.

Vectra stared at him for a moment, then her jaws parted and a quick stream of fire shot out. It burned his beard and hand.

At first the man cried out, then he shook his singed hair out of his eyes and gritted his teeth. “I will accept that as your forgiveness, megatrath. My debt to you is paid.”

“I concur.” Vectra growled and scraped the floor with her claws. She glanced down at Oganna. “You have exposed him, and I am grateful. Name a request so that I may grant you a reward.”

The creature’s offer hung in the air for a few moments. Oganna circled the man and then faced the megatrath. “His debt to me has not yet been paid.”

The man’s mouth opened wide, and his eyes reflected fear.