Serpent in the Mist Read online

  Theosus, what are you doing to me? How are you in my thoughts?

  He staggered down the street. Patrons parted out of his way as if he were diseased or drunk. He stopped near an alleyway and slumped up against the wall. I need to brew up some of this, he thought as he looked at the plain tin in his hands.

  Don’t brew it yet. Call to her, Theosus’ voice echoed in his head.

  Deylia! He thought to the image of Deylia in his mind. Where are you? Deylia, can you hear my thoughts? There was no answer. Then it occurred to him that he was going about this all wrong. He let his mind picture the cloaked Enforcers. He called out with his mind.

  He dropped to the ground and waited. After a time, he heard footsteps approaching.

  “Excuse me?” a voice behind him said. Rennon turned to see an Enforcer. “I need to have a word with you.”

  Relief filled Rennon, but he suppressed it. “What do you want with me, filth?”

  “Just come along,” the Enforcer said. Rennon obeyed but feigned resistance.

  The Enforcer forced Rennon through a maze of streets until they came to a wagon with a cage waiting at the entrance to a magnificent stone building. Rennon again resisted when two other Enforcers moved in to help shove him into the cage with two other prisoners. Immediately he recognized Deylia as one of them. She was huddled in a corner. The male prisoner took this opportunity to escape. Rennon felt a rush in his mind and a sickening buzz as the prisoner attacked one of the Enforcers with his mind. The escaping man leaped from the back of the wagon as the Enforcer reeled from the attack, and ran. He got about four or five strides before he was felled by an arrow to the neck. He lay writhing on the ground until another Enforcer ran him through with his sword.

  “Let that be a lesson to you two if you try to escape,” the Enforcer said, making a deliberate gesture with his finger across his neck. He closed the cage door.

  “Deylia, Deylia.” Rennon shook her, but she seemed to be in shock. Her brown hair was unkempt and partially covered her eyes, but he could still see them and the redness around them. She had been crying. “Deylia, it’s me, Rennon.”

  Deylia blinked and looked into his face. She spoke in a weak voice. “You fool! What have you done?”

  “I am here to save you.”

  “Save me? What are you talking about? You are as good as dead now.”

  “Wait, I will tell them that I killed the Enforcers. You had nothing to do with it. I will tell them so they will let you go.”

  “You did just come off the boat. They don’t care about your testimony. They will kill us both now. Do you know where this wagon goes? It takes those afflicted with the malady to the gallows to be hanged and then burned.”

  Rennon smiled at the boat comment.

  “I am glad you can laugh in the face of death.”

  “No, I will tell them. They will have to let you go.”

  “Go on, tell them, but it will do no good. Whether we killed Enforcers or not, we are afflicted. Did you even consider that?”

  Rennon moved to the back of the wagon. “You there. Enforcer.”

  “Quiet, you, or I will kill you myself.”

  “The girl—she is innocent. I killed the men last night.”

  “I said quiet. We already know what you did, and the wench too.”

  “No, you don’t. She had nothing to do with it.”

  The Enforcer took out his sword and poked it in between the bars of the cage, forcing Rennon to move back or be stabbed.

  “I told you. You might have stood a chance if you had not let yourself get caught. Now we both hang,” Deylia lamented.

  The wagon jolted forward and lumbered up the street. Rennon tried to concentrate on the bars, but his mind was still in the same foggy, uncontrollable state from when he left Theosus. He was helpless except for his brawn, and he was not nearly strong enough to break through the bars.

  The wagon took them out of the city Trigoth and to an overlooking hill. Rennon saw the gallows a short distance ahead. Panic had begun to set in, and his heart raced. There had to be a way out of this.

  “Can you use your mind?” Rennon asked Deylia. She shook her head.

  “Even if I could, I cannot do what you do. I have never seen anyone control it like that.”

  The wagon lurched to a stop, and three Enforcers extracted them from the cage. Rennon tried to fight them off, this time for real, but they overpowered him and tied his hands behind his back. They did the same to Deylia and then led them both to the platform. The stench of something horrible assaulted his nostrils. He almost wretched knowing it was probably burned human flesh he smelled.

  “We bear witness to these two afflicted souls today that they may be condemned before these Enforcers for their crimes.” An Enforcer dressed in black robes read from a scroll. Someone tied a black cloth over Rennon’s eyes.

  “Rennon, I am scared,” Deylia whispered.

  “Be strong,” he said, not knowing what else to say.

  He felt the rope as it slipped over his head and around his neck.

  He tried in vain to concentrate on the rope in hopes that he could weaken it somehow. Then, on a whim, he focused on the pouch Theosus had given him.

  “Let those who break the laws of Trigothia be warned. Draw the line!” the Enforcer shouted. Rennon felt the floor drop out from below his feet and the rope draw tight as he fell.

  LADY SHEY RUBBED THE sleep from her eyes. The smell of sizzling salted meat heavy in the air quickly roused her. She wrapped the small quilt covering her around her shoulders and followed the heavenly scent. Shila was humming a little tune as she cooked the meat on a cast iron stove.

  Lady Shey sniffed the air. “Bacon and bittering tea?”

  Shila turned with a start. “Oh, my lady, you sure gave me a scare. I wasn’t expecting you to be up and about yet.” She turned the meat in the skillet. “Aye, that is the bittering tea there.” She motioned with the spatula to a tin pot. “I put an empty cup out for you on the table next to the honey.”

  “Thank you, Shila. Oh, and if it pleases you, why not simply call me Shey? No need to be so formal when it is I imposing on you.”

  “Ah, mistress, you are no bother. When I referred to you by name when we met, I had not yet learned of your lineage. My lady is the proper address.”

  “I didn’t tell you that so you would curtsy and carry on so. Please, I want us to be friends.”

  Shila grinned and picked up a bowl from the table. “I have something special here. Eggs! I’d wager you haven’t had fresh eggs in a stretch. I collected them right before sunup.”

  Lady Shey donned a thick mitt from the table and took hold of the pot of bittering tea. “No, I haven’t in a while for sure. It all smells so wonderful. You shouldn’t bother.” She poured herself some of the bittering tea and then glanced back to Shila. “Want a cup?”

  Shila nodded. “My empty cup is on the table if you don’t mind pouring me some.”

  “Not at all,” Shey said and then filled Shila’s cup.

  Shila cracked an egg and dropped it in the same skillet she had just cooked the bacon in. “Don’t worry, my lady, I am glad to cook for us.”

  “Shila, call me Shey.”

  Shila nodded. “Sorry, mistress. It takes me a few times to get it through my thick skull.”

  Lady Shey chuckled and blew on her bittering tea. She took a sip and wrinkled her nose. “Too bitter. I forgot to put in the honey.”

  “Well, mistress, they don’t call it bittering tea for nothing.”

  “It’s just a bit stronger than I am used to is all.”

  “It’s dwarven. Grown in the mountains and freshly ground at the table. It is meant to be strong.” She set out a plate of food for Lady Shey, and then she put one down for herself. “Here we go. Let’s eat.”

  Lady Shey picked up a slice of bacon and bit it in half. “Shila, thank you. This is wonderful.”

  “I am glad you like it,” she said, digging into her eggs.

  “H
ow far is it to Basillain?” Lady Shey inquired.

  “Not far. We will easily make it there by midday tomorrow on foot.” She took a bite of bacon. “It’s all downhill from here to there.” Shila contemplated the journey for a moment and then took a drink of her bittering tea. “Are you certain your friends will find you there?” Shila asked. “Basillain is a rough sort of city.”

  Lady Shey nodded. “Gondrial and I have a system. If one of us is lost in the north, at the foot of the Jagged Mountains, we are to go to Basillain and wait.” She took another bite of bacon. “Specifically, we are to meet at the Eagle Eye Inn.”

  “I have heard of the Eagle Eye. It has a rather colorful reputation.”

  Lady Shey stopped eating for a moment. “Gondrial and I made the pact long ago. It was not such a dangerous place back then. We never bothered to update our agreement for a safer haven.”

  Shila gave Lady Shey an uneasy grin. “It’s of no matter. We will not be in the city long enough to see any trouble, right?”

  Shey nodded. “That’s right. Not to worry, we will meet my friend if he is there and leave for the Vale of Morgoran as soon as possible if he is not.”

  “Back to my original question, how will he know to meet you in Basillain? I mean, how does he know you were taken northeast after you were captured?”

  “Oh, I see what you’re asking. He doesn’t really; it’s an educated guess. If someone wanted to capture a wielder, they wouldn’t stay in Symboria long—it’s too risky. South is Arillia and west is Trigothia; both of those kingdoms would be just as risky as Symboria. North or east would be the only logical choice. Either way, Basillain is a good central location.”

  “Clever. I guess you have it all worked out.”

  Lady Shey swallowed another bite of bacon. “Aye, it is necessary to have a plan when you might be in hostile territory. Gondrial is smart, and he has a way of always finding me. I think he is in Basillain waiting patiently for me right now,” she said confidently.

  “Let’s hope so, my lady, let’s hope so.”

  Chapter 6: Shadow of the Mountain

  Devyn yawned, stretched his arms above his head, and worked the kink out of his back. Try as he might, he just could not get used to sleeping on the ground. He heard the now familiar morning grumblings of Morgoran outside of his tent, which roused him from his uneasy sleep. The old wielder kept the pace of travel to Draegodor at a near intolerable speed, always mumbling about lost time and the folly of Ianthill’s hesitation. Devyn was just hoping he would get on with his training and allow concerns for events he couldn’t control to slip from his mind.

  Devyn put on his trousers, pulled a clean grey tunic over his head, and strapped on Dranmalin. The smell of breakfast reached his tent and made his stomach growl. He wondered why Kelle had not already greeted him as she usually did at first light. He exited his tent and got his answer. He could see Kelle practicing swordplay with Bren in the clearing near the campsite. He had to swallow hard to suppress the sickly pang of jealousy that rose within him. After all, she was supposed to be a dragon knight now, and she needed training. Devyn remembered the fight at Calanbrough and Brightonhold. Kelle had learned just enough to keep her alive, but not enough to press her advantage. He reasoned that he would rather her train with Bren and be victorious than the alternative.

  Morgoran was sitting by the embers of the dying campfire, apparently trying to rekindle it with new pieces of wood. He had placed a bag of bittering tea beans on a large rock next to him. Just beyond the tents and nestled in the tree line, Melias had set up a fire under a pile of stones where he cooked biscuits and pork in a skillet.

  “Good morning to you, Morgoran,” Devyn said.

  “What . . . oh . . . good morning,” he grumbled.

  “Why don’t you just use essence to get the fire going again?”

  Morgoran looked as if he had just swallowed something foul. Devyn noticed he had shaved his beard close to his face and cut his hair short. “Why don’t I just light you on fire and throw you into it for suggesting such an asinine thing? You would probably burn easier than this wet wood,” he said, tossing the wood down on the dying embers. The old wielder turned away and began to mumble, but Devyn could still understand him. “Use essence to do such a menial task; solve problems with a trick and a wink.”

  “Why not?” Devyn asked.

  “Why not what?” Morgoran poked at the fire some more. “You have some big ears on you, boy. What are you asking? Why will I not use essence?”

  “Aye, why not?”

  Morgoran grumbled. “Because . . . well, if I did . . . um, it’s just not wise.”

  “Why isn’t it wise?”

  “Will you go bother someone else? I am trying to make some bittering tea, and as soon as I pour a cup down me, I will answer all your impetuous questions.” He turned back to the fire and poked at it again. As soon as Devyn moved away to go speak to Melias, he heard the fire suddenly roar to life. Devyn glanced back, and Morgoran hastily poked the fire with the stick, but Devyn knew what he had done, and he snickered to himself.

  “What are you so cheerful about?” Melias asked him as Devyn approached.

  “Oh, nothing. Just smelling your fine cooking.”

  “Hungry, are you? Well, get you some pork while it’s still hot. The biscuits are coming. Get one of those plates.” He pointed to a stack of wooden plates sitting on a tree stump nearby. Devyn grabbed one of them. “Morgoran should have some bittering tea brewed.”

  “Aye, he’s working on it,” Devyn said as he picked up a couple of links with his fingers.

  “Careful, they’re still hot.”

  Devyn put his fingers in his mouth to cool them after dropping the sausages on the wooden plate.

  Vesperin appeared out of a dense thicket of trees behind Melias. “Something smells delicious. I could barely finish my morning prayers.”

  “Have some,” Melias said as he pulled the biscuits from the skillet. “Get a plate.”

  Vesperin took a plate from the stack, grabbed a link, and experienced the same finger-burning incident that Devyn did.

  “Here are the biscuits,” Melias said, giving them a golden-brown biscuit each.

  Kelle and Bren, unable to ignore the smell of breakfast any longer, put away their swords and joined Devyn, Melias, and Vesperin.

  Devyn eyed Bren suspiciously before he could catch himself.

  The dragon knight nervously struck up some small talk. “Kelle is coming right along with her dragon fang and claw,” he said, referring to the two swords of a dragon knight.

  Devyn cocked an eyebrow. “I knew she would. You should see her wield kitchen knives.”

  Kelle beamed at Devyn and then playfully poked him on the shoulder.

  Morgoran, still grumbling, brought the pot of boiling bittering tea from the campfire and set it on top of the hot rocks. He poured the hot tea into six mugs and helped himself to breakfast. “Enjoy the hot meals while you can, boys. As soon as we leave Tyre for Draegodor, meals will be nothing but hard bread and dried meat.”

  Devyn groaned. “Why? Except for the boat ride to Seabrey, we have had hot meals all the way from Calanbrough, and I am enjoying having them for a change.”

  “Is that what Ianthill taught you, boy? Whining? I think I’ve heard enough of that out of you.” Morgoran took a bite of biscuit. “For one thing, the road to Tyre is well traveled, and these campsites along this forest are plentiful.” Tiny bits of biscuit ejected out of his mouth as he talked. “If anyone is trying to track us, our campsite is not all that different from any other along this road. After Tyre, we will be heading up into the mountains. Not a lot of trails or roads leading up to Mount Urieus. We would do well to cover our tracks.”

  “What is on Mount Urieus?” Kelle asked. “Do we have to go there to get to Draegodor?”

  “Aye, Mount Urieus is where the sentinels guard the gateway to Draegodor,” Bren answered. “They guard the Amalease stone. The stone is how we will gain entrance to D
raegodor.”

  “So is Mount Urieus near Draegodor?” Vesperin asked.

  “Nay, Mount Urieus is the first highest western peak. The Amalease stone is a type of Lora Daine; it won’t send us to Draegodor like a regular Lora Daine, but it will alert Draegodor that we wish to enter. If the dragons accept, they will send for us. Otherwise, without Mount Urieus, we would spend weeks slowly traveling through the Jagged Mountains to get there. Draegodor is most easily reached by air or Lora Daine.

  Devyn drank some of his bittering tea and placed the cup on his half-empty plate. “I am almost afraid to ask, but what do you mean by ‘sending for us’?”

  “If the dragons invite you into Draegodor, you will find out. If they do not, it shall remain a secret.”

  “I thought you might say that,” Devyn said. “I do look forward to seeing the home of the dragons—if they let us in, I mean.”

  “Aye, the red city of Draegodor is something to see,” Bren stated.

  After breakfast, they packed up camp. Bren and Morgoran led the way through the forest to Tyre. Although they traveled near the road, Morgoran made it a point not to actually travel on the road, and as a result, the trip to Tyre took much longer. At least the weather in northern Symboria is unusually warm for mid-winter, which makes travel more agreeable, Devyn thought.

  After the midday meal, Vesperin approached Devyn just before the party geared up to move out again. “Devyn, I have been thinking about what happened in the woods with the Dramyds.”

  “You mean, when you were wounded?”

  Vesperin nodded. “I don’t remember much about the trip to the Vale of Morgoran, but I know that after we arrived, something happened to me.”

  “When Kerad healed you?”

  “Kerad didn’t heal me. You heard what he said back in Signal Hill. It was Loracia.”

  “I don’t mean to belittle your faith, Ves, but how is that possible?”

  “Our power of will comes from our faith in Loracia. She allows us to heal others, among other things.” Vesperin looked down at his feet as if he were trying to think of how to formulate his words. “Devyn, I think I might have died before Loracia—”