Dragon Venom (Obsidian Chronicles Book 3) (29 page)

"So all the magical creatures except dragons are completely sterile?"

Magic is inherently sterile. yes.

"But dragons aren't."

Their unique magic allows them to reproduce their kind, yes—but even
then, it takes centuries to reshape a human soul into a dragon, and the human's
own fertility is destroyed. Dragons are destroyers, not creators, and must be
born of destruction.

"How do you know that, when you admit you do not know so many other things?"

I lived among the dragons. I spoke to the gods before they died. I sought to
extend my own life, and therefore inquired at length about the nature of gods
and dragons, and why they lived so much longer than all other magical beings.

"And they told you?"

Or I drank the knowledge from them.

"In the god's blood?"

Or a dragon's.

"You drank their blood, too?"

It was in my nature. The golden glow was growing redder, and the light in the corridor was starting to dim. Arlian began to wish he had a blade—silver, steel, obsidian, anything. He had left his silver behind, his steel was in the bundles on his vanished horse, and his obsidian lay in scattered shards on the Blue Mage's courtyard pavement.

"Why is that?" he asked.

You heard what I said of my origin. Have you not wondered what my natural parent was, or why I keep my human slaves?

"I... was more interested in other matters," Arlian admitted. "I did not wish to intrude on your privacy."

I said that the earth's magic could impregnate even the lowest living thing,
and my beginnings were low indeed. I was born of a leech. An ordinary leech.

"And you have transcended your birth magnificently."

You hope to save yourself from my hunger—but I see you also speak your
honest belief and are not disgusted, as most men would be. Yes, I have transcended my origins; I have drunk the blood and knowledge and power and
magic of a million more exalted creatures, and made it all mine. I have
made the essence of those myriad beings my own essence. That is my magic,
as venom is the dragons'—and I have used it as no other before or since. So
other leech-thing has ever risen to even a fraction the heights I have
attained.

The glow was golden once again, the red fading, and Arlian could feel the creature's pride—pride that Arlian thought was entirely justified. To start out as the magical spawn of a loathsome little bloodsucker and grow into something many believed to be a god—that was an accomplishment to be proud of indeed!

I had thought a dragonhearts blood might be an interesting new taste, but
now I think I will spare you, it said. I think you might well serve me better if I
set you free. If anyone can destroy the dragons that drove me here, I think Fate
has chosen you for the task.

"I will certainly try," Arlian replied.

The dragons cast me out; now, in turn, I cast you out, Arlian of the Smoking Mountain. Complete the circle, and earn this life I grant you.

And then Arlian found himself standing in a deserted, sloping field, beneath thick clouds that flickered with purple and gold; clumps of brownish mist rolled across the dried stalks and bare earth. The air was hot and moist, and his sweat-soaked blouse clung to his back.

His horse stood a few yards away, pawing the ground uneasily but not fleeing; the remaining bundles of supplies were still in place.

Arlian turned slowly, looking for some trace of the "palace," or the being that had transported him back and forth and spoken to him without ever making a sign.

He and the gelding stood at the foot of a mountain, its peak lost in a seething mass of something that was not exactly cloud.

Arlian looked up the stony mountainside for a moment, then

decided that he had probably learned everything worthwhile that Tirikindaro could teach him.

And the leech-god had certainly given him plenty to think about. If he could find some other magical creature that could breed true, some less harmful creature, then he could use it to replace the dragons.

But what could it be?

He spoke quiet, soothing nonsense as he walked up to the horse and caught the reins, and a moment later he was riding away from the mountain, down the slope in the direction he hoped was north.

The Lands of Wild Magic

25

The Lands of Wild Magic

Although he regretted any delay in exploring further beyond the bor-Although he regretted any delay in exploring further beyond the border, Arlian rode directly from Tirikindaro to Orange River, back into the Borderlands to collect Isein, Double, and Poke. He had said he would return within a month, so he intended to return.

He had also said he would bring the magician to her homeland, and he thought that Arithei might as well be his next stop—he doubted that the wizards of Shei or Furza would tell him anything significant that he had not already learned from the Blue Mage or the thing in Tirikindaro, while the human magicians of Arithei might provide a different perspective.

As he rode past the orange groves into the village he saw Isein standing by the roadside, talking to one of the natives. He recognized her immediately by her Aritheian attire, its colors so much brighter than the local garb.

"Hello there!" he called.

She and her companion turned at the sound; Isein's eyes widened, and she screamed, clapping her hands to her mouth. The Borderlander started at the sound, and stared at her, obviously astonished by her reaction. He began babbling at her, trying to calm her, as Arlian swung down out of the saddle and ran up.

"Isein!" he called. "Isein, I'm just Arlian!"

"You're..." she gasped. Then she caught herself, took a deep breath, and straightened up.

"You said you were going to Tirikindaro," she said accusingly. "You said you were going to talk to the thing that rules there."

"I did," Arlian said, stopping a pace away from her while the man accompanying her held her arm—Arlian was unsure whether he was comforting her or restraining her.

"But here you are alive! Did they stop you at the border? Couldn't you find it?"

"I found it," Arlian said. "I spoke to it."

"But you're alive—aren't you?" She reached out to touch him, but he was a few inches too far away. He stepped forward and took her hand. "It didn't enslave you, or kill you, o r . . . or transform you?"

"I'm alive," he said, holding her hand reassuringly in both of his.

"Alive, free, and untransformed."

" I t . . . it didn't do anything to you?"

"I amused it," Arlian said wryly. "And we have a common foe. It let me live and go free."

Her astonishment suddenly transformed to anger, and she snatched her hand away. "How could you do that?" she said. "Just leave the three of us here, while you go off to do something insane?"

"I assumed you could take care of yourselves," Arlian replied. "And my life is my own, to risk as I please."

"You are inconsiderate, as well as mad," she said.

"I am a dragonheart," Arlian answered. "A monster, without true human warmth. You have known this for years."

"Ordinarily you do a better job of concealing it," Isein replied, but she spoke more calmly now.

"My apologies," Arlian said. "I was indeed inconsiderate. Nonetheless, it is done now, and I have survived, and the time has come to journey to Arithei, so that I might speak with the scholars and magicians there."

She considered that for a moment, then glanced at the man who had stood silently by throughout this exchange.

"Doni, it appears I will be traveling on on the morrow," she said. "I must therefore decline your offer, at least for the present." She threw Arlian a glance that let him know her anger had not entirely abated.

"However, I will undoubtedly be returning this way eventually, and as I am not at all certain that I wish to continue in Lord Obsidian's employ, I may well reconsider at that time."

"As you please, Isein," the Borderlander replied, with a slight bow.

His own glance at Arlian was more confused than angry. "If there is anything I can do to be of service to you, you need but ask, and it will be done."

Isein returned his bow.

Arlian decided that this would be a good time to retrieve his horse, in case the two had anything more to say to one another that his presence might inhibit; by the time he had found and recaptured the gelding, which had wandered a few yards into the grove, and returned to the road with the animal, Dori had departed and Isein was waiting impatiently.

No words were spoken as they walked on into Orange River, Arlian leading his mount. They were almost to the inn when Isein said, "Dori wanted to hire me as the town's defender against the spread of magic. I told him I wasn't sure how much I could do, but I could try."

"Very commendable," Arlian said.

"I had considered trying to reach Arithei on my own, of course—

well, with Double and Poke, really. They don't know any better, and would have come if I asked."

"Indeed."

"I didn't want to rush into anything, though."

"Wise of you."

"We were in the South Groves so that I might attempt to sense how close the border has come; it didn't have anything to do with you"

Arlian tied the gelding's reins to the inn's rail and said, "I hadn't supposed otherwise."

"I assumed you were dead."

"As you had every reason to." He patted the horse, then turned to the door of the inn.

For a moment Isein was silent; then she burst out, "What did it say?

What was it like?"

Arlian smiled. "I will be delighted to tell you all about it, once the horse has been tended to and we have let the innkeeper know that I'm here, and in need of food and drink."

He swung the door open as he spoke, and any further discussion was momentarily lost in the shouts of greeting from Poke and Double, who had been seated, beer mugs in hand, just inside the inn.

Arlian did describe his adventures in Tirikindaro at great length that night, to a rapt audience composed not merely of his three traveling companions, but of a dozen locals as well.

That delayed making any preparations for departure until morning, and in fact the four northerners spent another full day in Orange River, resting, planning, and loading, before setting out for Arithei.

The traditional route to Arithei led first westward, then south, then southeast, to avoid Tirikindaro and other established magical demesnes—

but the borders had changed, and furthermore, Arlian felt he had an understanding with Tirikindaro. He suggested taking a more direct route.

The others argued against such an action. "We don't want to miss Qulu on his way north," Isein said.

"We need a road for the wagon," Double pointed out.

Arlian was forced to concede that these arguments were sound, and after further discussion tradition eventually prevailed.

Thus the wagon, guarded by steel and silver and amethyst, took the familiar route—but it was not familiar at first. The Borderlands had changed. Magic streaked across the sky, the wind laughed and muttered, and after just three days' travel they found deserted villages. In one of them peculiar trees grew in the streets, short thick trees that seemed to have human feces in the bark and that writhed and rustled without any wind; Arlian suspected that these had once been the village's normal inhabitants.

From that point on strange beasts stalked the nights, and marvels and wonders seemed to lurk around every corner. Flowers watched them pass with wide blue eyes, and birds spoke to them in several languages—one bright-plumbed creature followed them for a time, calling Arlian's name in his long-dead mother's voice. All of the travelers often glimpsed things from the corners of their eyes that were not there when looked at directly.

Oddly, once they were across the old border, some eight days from Orange River, the chaos subsided and a semblance of normalcy returned.

The villages they passed now were inhabited by brown-skinned people in flowing bright robes, people who spoke Man's Tongue with strange accents if they spoke it at all—but they were inhabited, and the people, however foreign they might appear, were human.

Isein inquired once or twice whether anyone remembered seeing an Aritheian of Qulu's description passing through a year or so back, but received only shrugs in reply.

"Nothing has changed here," Isein explained when Poke commented on the unremarkable appearance of this area. "These lands have the same magic they have always had. The magic here is no stronger; the difference is that a part of the dragons' magic has been freed in the Borderlands, not that the wild magic beyond the old border has grown.'"

"But it seems so strange there," Poke protested. "Why should it be stranger than here?"

"Because the magic there has only recently been freed, and has not yet found its proper form," Isein replied. "No one there has learned to tame it, and nothing has yet restrained it. In time, it will settle down . . . "

If she had intended to say more, she did not get the chance; at that moment a roaring green monstrosity sprang from the roadside ahead, lunging toward the lead ox. Arlian had been walking nearby; his sword seemed to leap into his hand as he sprang to the animal's defense. Double, riding guard ahead, swung around as well, drawing his own blade, cursing himself for not having seen the creature as he passed.

The two swordsmen dispatched it in short order, chopping it into twitching, bloodless chunks, but a stop was required to tend to four long gashes its claws had inflicted on one of the oxen.

"It's no worse than before," Isein said, as she worked a quick healing spell, "but that doesn't mean it's safe. It has never been safe."