Reborn (The Dragons of Cantor Book 1) Page 7

  With a great silence hanging over them, they left the clearing and continued on their way. Mey wanted to know more about her mother but that would mean having to actually talk to her uncle. She didn’t want to be the first to break the silence especially since she had begun to feel guilty about her overreaction to their disagreement. She had been a bit of a brat and was probably too hard on them.

  So she made it a point to enjoy the countryside. Trees and lush greenery showered the part of Cantor they were now passing through. Being near the sea, greenery grew in abundance. The salty smell in the air was greatly diminished but still there on the slight breeze. Concentrating hard on the smells and sights, Mey was startled when she heard a faint noise. Slowing her pace, she focused on the noise and continued slowly forward. Again, she heard it - a soft, yet distinctively frantic voice. She wasn’t sure what it was saying but it was definitely yelling.

  Bob slowed as well, having turned to her and noticed her reaction. “What is it, Mey?”

  “Shh.” Mey cocked her head to the side for a closer listen. “A voice.”

  At that point they had all stopped and were straining to hear. It came again. This time she was certain it was a voice and that it was calling for aid.

  “I don’t know how far off it is,” she told them. “Someone needs help.” Looking to Bob, he shrugged to tell her that he had not heard. How could it be that she could hear it and her uncle, with the finely tuned hearing of the elves, could not? Pointing a shaking finger, she said, “It’s that way.”

  Thom started walking again. “Then we head that way.” The three left behind looked at one another, and then followed.

  After about half an hour, they emerged from the trees into a clearing. A house, mostly rubble now, sat in the middle. Long abandoned, the roof had fallen in on one side and half of one wall with it. A well stood off to one side. Clearly it, too, had seen better days. The stones that made up the walls of the well were mostly scattered around its base.

  Too quiet. The little hairs on Mey’s neck stood on end. From the bandolier across her chest, she took a dagger in each hand. Looking around to her companions, she saw Bob slowly pulling his bow from his back and nock an arrow while Thom had his eyes closed, lips moving, readying a spell to defend against whatever evil might be lurking about. They felt it too.

  “This should be fun!” she heard Durlag say. As Mey glanced back at him, he was hefting his large battle axe from his back. She glanced at Bob and gave him a half-grin.

  He nodded as if to say, “I’m ready.”

  Slowly, silently, they made their way toward the house. Then, a sudden yell stilled them in their tracks. In unison, they turned. The voice was coming from inside the well!

  Bob cautiously took a few steps in the direction of the well. With a few gestures, he told Durlag to circle around and keep an eye on the house. Mey and Thom matched him step for step.

  “Can anyone hear me?” the voice sounded again. “Please, anyone!”

  “A trap?” mouthed Mey to Bob. He shrugged. Everything looked to be in its place. Bob slowly leaned in to get a look into the well. When he did, a huge smile spread across his face.

  “Hey! You! Help me out! I can’t hang on much longer!” The voice was definitely male.

  Bob looked over to Mey and Thom. “It’s a man. Human.”

  They both leaned over to have a look. “What are you doing in a well?” Thom asked.

  “Please, help me out and I’ll tell you!” the man pleaded. “I’m losing my grip!”

  Thom and Bob each grabbed the rope that hung down into the well and was now supporting not only the bucket used to draw forth water, but also a man.

  They heaved and grunted as they pulled. And the voice from the well cheered them on. “That’s it! Almost there! Just a few more tugs!”

  The rope inched upwards, until Mey could see fingers grasping at the edge of the well. As the man was getting his grip on the lip of the well, the rope that he held snapped. Thom and Bob stumbled backwards. Mey dove forward and grasped his arm before he could lose his tenuous hold. He grabbed for her with his free arm. Pulling with all her strength, she managed to get him far enough up so he could get hold of the ledge again. Then, with a little help, he was able to clamber out.

  All of them, now on the ground, were breathing hard with their efforts, willing their hearts to slow, lest they leap out of their chests.

  “Thank…you. Thank…you…so…much!” the man said between gasps for air.

  Thom sat up. “What in the name of everything holy were you doing down in that well?” he demanded.

  “I fell. Trying to get something to drink.” The man had obviously not detected the note of venom in the mage’s voice. “My name is Elerbee. I am a priest of Sirrah.”

  He was dressed in white robes which, Mey noted, should have been covered in grime and filth from being down that well but were stark white. Almost blindingly white. A shock of strawberry blond hair fell over his forehead and he brushed it back with his hand, revealing soft brown, strikingly kind eyes. Mey would have guessed his age at about twenty-five human years, give or take.

  “You are alone?” Bob was staring at the man as well. Wondering about those white robes, no doubt. Mey had already decided they were magical. With a shaking hand, she reached out to touch them. It was as if she couldn’t help herself. She saw her hand moving, was horrified that she couldn’t stop it, but she had to know about those robes.

  Thom’s face was suddenly in front of her. “Mey?” She looked at him in confusion then slowly came to realize what was going on around her. She glanced around, all eyes were on her. Elerbee was leaning away from her outstretched hand with a look of confusion on his face. She cleared her throat.

  “Sorry,” she mumbled and drew her hand back. A sheepish grin crossed her face. “They’re just so…clean.” Backing up a couple of steps, she wondered at what just happened. The pull of the magic was so strong! Thom touched her elbow, reassuring. Slowly, her breathing came easier.

  “Yes, I am alone,” Elerbee said, answering Bob’s question. Then turning to Mey, “And, yes, they are clean. Thank you. They were a gift.” This was all the information she was going to get apparently.

  “The well…?” Thom prompted him.

  “Right! I was only traveling around to the settlements to see if anyone needed priestly services. I have found most of them abandoned. I was so thirsty and I figured I could still find something to drink in this old well. I leaned in to see if I could catch a sight of water or even a slight whiff.” He shrugged. “I guess I leaned too far and I fell.”

  “Aye, I find leaning to be a bit troublesome meself,” Durlag chimed in. “Avoid it at all costs.”

  The wrinkle in the priest’s nose told the rest of them that he wasn’t too keen on the dwarf’s smell; the few steps he took to move away told them he wasn’t keen on the filth either. The whole time this exchange took place, Mey noticed the man rubbing his hands on his robes as if to rid them of some imagined grime.

  “We were just about to stop and take a respite,” Thom told him. “You are welcome to join us.”

  “I think I will. I have missed contact with others these few weeks. Thank you.”

  **********

  Conversation was loose and camaraderie came easily to the little group. Although Elerbee had some serious quirks, he was nice enough. They didn’t tell him of Mey’s heritage but they did reveal that their journey would be taking them to the Barren Lands.

  Elerbee explained that he had been traveling these nearby settlements offering help with crops, giving healing to the sick and infirm and praying with those who needed spiritual guidance. He was on a self-imposed mission. The other priests at the Temple of Sirrah in Jareen thought him crazy to undertake such a task.

  Jareen was further north, closer to the Forest of Nott. There were many more dwarves up that way and less elves. So, Elerbee stared incessantly at Bob and Mey, curious eyes taking in all he could of their fine, angled features.
Bob more so than Mey. She had the features of the elves; high cheekbones, slightly slanted eyes, though not so slanted as her uncle’s, ears that pointed upward at the tips; again, Mey’s slightly more rounded out than Bob’s. Bob was beginning to show signs of discomfort at all the attention.

  “So, you are a healing priest?” Bob asked Elerbee to break the recent staring fest. “Meylaran, how about letting him take a look at that wound on your leg? It would help to hasten the healing and we could move along a bit faster.”

  “It’s fine, really. I haven’t even noticed the pain.” She moved her leg out in front of her and rolled the hem of her trousers up slightly. The bandage was getting grimy with dirt from the road. As she unwound it, Elerbee’s nose wrinkled to show his distaste for the condition of the cloth. As she uncovered her calf, he leaned in to inspect the wound.

  “May I?” he asked, reaching for her leg.

  Thom immediately started to protest, but Mey was quicker.

  “Sure,” she said, and Thom swallowed his objection.

  Turning her leg, Elerbee peered at the scratch that the goblin’s spear had put there. She had washed it out with water and applied a salve but that’s all the “battlefield” medicine she knew. It wasn’t so bad.

  “When did this happen?” asked Elerbee.

  “Couple of days ago,” she answered.

  “A couple of days?” His brows came together and he looked at each person in turn. “This wound looks more like it is weeks old, rather than days.”

  Mey shrugged. “See, I told you it wasn’t that bad. I’ll just put the bandage back on.”

  Elerbee shuddered and put his hand up. “No. Um, that cloth is filthy. You could invite infection. Here, I’ll just heal the rest of this right up.” Putting both hands back to her leg, he started speaking in a low voice. Muttering a prayer to Sirrah, he moved his hands over the wound and pressed lightly on it.

  Mey winced but then a warm sensation spread through her leg and instantly all pain and irritation from the scratch was gone.

  She looked from her leg to Elerbee who was smiling proudly. “There,” he said, “good as new.”

  “Impressive,” she said, nodding her thanks to him. Stretching her leg out and turning it to look at where the scratch had been she could see nothing but a very clean patch of skin on the back of her calf.

  “Nice,” Thom’s voice cracked and Mey looked at him. His eyes were wide, and staring at her leg. She had the feeling he wasn’t referring to the healing skill of the priest.

  Rolling her eyes, she pushed her pant leg down to cover her exposed skin. “Show’s over. It’s time to get back on the road.” Thom’s face reddened as he realized he’d been caught. Mey flashed a sly smile at him.

  **********

  The earlier tension and all around bad mood was lifted from the band of travelers as they set out. Even Durlag had a spring to his step. Mey had to wonder if the priest didn’t have something to do with that.

  As they walked, Elerbee found his way to her side. “You are not fully elven,” he noted.

  She glanced at him. Not quite sure about this man, she decided to guard her secrets well. “No, I am not.”

  He chuckled. “I see. I will tell you about the robes if you will tell me a bit about yourself. I am intrigued by elves, you see. I have never met one, actually.”

  “Then you should be talking with my uncle. He is fully elven.”

  Elerbee looked at Bob. “Yes, but he doesn’t seem as approachable.” Looking back to Mey, he said, “I get the feeling he would rather everyone leave him alone.”

  “Of course he would. He is an elf.” She winked at the priest as they continued their trek.

  “Are all elves so secretive?” he asked.

  “Are all priests so nosy?”

  “Yes. We are.”

  Laughing out loud, she decided then and there that she liked this man. He was bothersome, but honest and he made her smile. Smiling was in short supply of late and she felt refreshed with him. Priestly presence, probably. His god working through him, certainly. He obviously believed completely.

  Thom had made his way to her other side. “Elerbee, are you originally from Jareen or only there for your studies?”

  There was a pause for half a heartbeat before Elerbee answered. “I am originally from the farmlands surrounding Jareen. I was born there and my family still resides just outside the city.” Then ignoring Thom completely, he turned back to Mey. “So tell me, where are you from?”

  She considered the question before answering. “From all over, really. I haven’t had a true home since I was very young. The longest I stayed anywhere was in Seaside.” A small noise drew her attention to Thom, who looked to be holding his breath. Ah, he doesn’t want me to reveal too much.

  “What about the robes? What magic is this that keeps them so clean?” Mey asked, changing the subject from herself.

  “Well, they were a gift from my mentor. Once I reached Divine status, he presented them to me.” He looked guiltily at her. “If you can’t tell, I have a ‘thing’ for cleanliness. He thought it a fitting gift.”

  “Yes, I think I noted that,” she said with a chuckle.

  “Oh, yes,” Thom tried to interject again. “Where does that come from – that obsession with cleanliness?”

  The other two looked at him, surprised he would ask such a thing. Mey couldn’t believe her ears! Her eyes wide, her mouth hanging slack, she said scolding, “Thom!”

  Elerbee was obviously bothered by the attention to his relentless need to be clean. “That’s ok. Um, it’s something that’s just always been with me.” His face was red as a beet. “If you will excuse me. Thank you, Mey, for the chat.” He fell back, feigning interest in the horses and settled in walking beside them.

  Mey was still looking at Thom. “What was that?” she demanded.

  “What?” he asked. “I was only trying to stay with the conversation!”

  “Nobody invited you in the first place!” Her voice was getting louder as she spoke. The anger was like a fire in the pit of her stomach, burning straight through at high speed; consuming each and every inch of her from the inside, out. From her middle, out to her limbs, the feeling radiated – and right before it reached her face, she had a sudden, terrifying thought. Oh, no! What is happening? No, no, no, I don’t want to hurt him!

  EIGHT

  Miles away, another priest sat, head in his hands. Wearily, he listened to the laments of the wizard before him.

  “What you’re suggesting is out of the question!”

  “But, Rekho, we have to stop them! Send the demon and be done with it.”

  “It is not the time!”

  “Then send another band of goblins, Shadow Guard or something to impede their progress!” the priest implored. The wizard fought them still at every turn. He had come to them wanting to help; wanting to stop the dragons from entering the world once more.

  He had his own reasons, and the priests didn’t care what they were. They needed him. Only the wizard could call up the denizens from the lower hells. With the rising of each new moon, the tension amongst the priests of Yenoh, the chaos god, mounted as the party that left Seaside grew not only in number but in power.

  “I can’t call the demons forth yet!” the wizard, Rekho, tried to explain to the priest. “I have insufficient tools here to do so.” He rummaged through the shelves of a nearby bookcase. “Useless junk,” the wizard muttered. “There are no farthen-crystals here! I must have the crystals!”

  “They’re on the way. Jost was sent to retrieve five pounds.” The priest sighed and stood. “Rekho, just stop them.” He turned to leave but stopped in the doorway and said over his shoulder, “I don’t care how.”

  **********

  As soon as the door closed, Rekho stopped his frantic search and turned to the work table. There, hidden under strips of cloth was a small farthen-crystal. Pushing the cloth aside he bent close and spoke the words that would activate the magical properties of the s
tone. A picture shimmered before him.

  He could have chosen to join the conjured image and become part of it, but he had to keep his distance. Silently, he watched.

  The half-elven girl and the mage from the Circle were speaking heatedly. The two seemed to disagree more than any others. NO! Rekho screamed silently. The changes that were happening with the girl! Eyes wide, he focused on her.

  A red glow flickered into existence, starting in her mid-section. The glow slowly rode outward, spreading to cover her entire body. It was very faint, but Rekho knew it for what it was. “No,” he whispered aloud, pain enveloped in that one word.

  Her beautiful green eyes started to change. The silver radiance shone more brilliantly than any other time her unstable dragon blood had surfaced.

  He did have to stop them. This was happening way too fast and if it continued, he would be unable to do anything at all, no matter how many demons and monsters he threw at them.

  Making his decision, he stepped into the spell and found himself surrounded by trees. He checked to make sure he was still incorporeal before moving forward. Slowly sliding up to the girl, he made sure not to touch her. She would sense him, surely, but no one would see him in this state - he had not allowed himself to fully enter the spell.

  He began to whisper to her, soothing words of comfort. He must get her calm. She would destroy all of those around her and he could not allow that sort of melee. There had to be another way to stop her and her companions. There simply had to be. He could not permit the dragon blood to overtake her. All his efforts would be in vain.

  Gradually, her breathing slowed and her eyes focused on the dark-haired human before her. She was frightened, of that he was certain. Whether fear for herself and what was happening or the knowledge of what she could have just done to those around her, he did not know. He continued speaking softly to her.

  The girl turned her head toward him slightly. Confusion replaced her rage as the red glow surrounding her diminished; her arms fell limp at her sides. Ensuring she would imagine this was all in her mind, he conjured images to disorient her. Energy spent, she sank to the ground.