Lord Of Dragons (Book 2) (23 page)

The wizard led them on a spiraling flight around the octagonal-shaped city, pointing out a massive stone arena where Tael knew his father had once battled many champions. He gaped at hundred-foot statues of gods and goddesses adorning the courtyards of gigantic stone temples on various levels. As it was night, the lights of the city flickered under the rising desert wind, growing into gusts the higher they flew. In the darkness, the foliage surrounding buildings and walls seemed like enormous, shadowy spiders waiting to strike prey. The eerie contrast between the white walls of the buildings and temples set against the darkness of the greenery caused Tael to shiver. The vastness and power of Shaar'el seemed like a monument to vanished gods, or to perhaps an ancient race of people who've moved onto a higher plane of existence.

 
Tael wondered why the city had remained so pristine and in harmony with the civilization's original precepts? Was there an active, working knowledge of the ancient teachings of Shaar'el? Knowledge that he craved to acquire. He remembered back to Princess Sebine's story of her encounter with Princess Marei and her use of magic against the Hakkadians, and he thrilled at the idea of witnessing such powerful magic. Would the Princess spurn Sebine out of anger against King Braxion? He hoped she wouldn't judge her merits based on the idiotic machinations of the King.

"This is where the King lives with the royal family," said Master Shalinor, who paused on his ascent of the city. "The ninth-level is strictly forbidden to ordinary citizens of Shaar'el, and only those of royal blood may live there, and only the long-line of noble servants are allowed the privilege of serving the royal family."

"Then are we considered uninvited guests?" Sebine said, and gave the wizard a wry grin.

"I sure you will always be welcomed by the royal family of the Malathian Kingdom. Prince Jaraz and Princess Marei spoke very highly of you in my long conversations with them. You seemed to have made quite an impression during your last visit with them in Trikar."

Sebine blushed at the wizard's comment, and cast a nervous glance at Tael as she spoke. "Surely they despise any of the nobility from Valance after their last experience? It was quite awful..."

"Indeed, from what I heard it was." The wizard seemed lost in thought for a moment. "Little does King Braxion know what a huge mistake he has made by alienating the Malathians. Now Valance is surrounded by enemies. If he had secured the Malathians as an ally, it would have meant much for the possibility of his future success."

Tael almost laughed at how ridiculous his grandfather sounded. Until they had a concrete plan or a relic powerful enough to defeat the King's army, Tael saw little chance of success, especially after hearing the story of the dwarves' defeat.

"And so you actually believe there is a chance of winning against King Braxion and his army of draenyx?" Sebine said.

The wizard turned and scowled at Sebine. "You are as impertinent and glum as your father. Of course we have a chance of success. Every army has a weakness, and it is up to us to discover what that weakness is and exploit it until we win."

Master Shalinor knew Sebine's father? Princess Sebine gaped as she stared at the wizard, and barked out a yelp of surprise and delight. "Where is he? If you knew who my father was, why didn't you tell me earlier?"

"Because I doubt you'd enjoy discovering his cruel and traitorous nature..." The wizard gave her a hard look that caused Sebine to wilt back in nervousness. "Do you really want to know him? Even if it meant turning your back on the very things you value in your life?"

Tael watched a malevolent stare form on Sebine's face as she aimed clawed hands at the wizard.

Chapter Twenty-Six

MASTER VHELAN CLOSED the last book in the vast collection contained in the archives of Raukris, the ancient underground city of the dark elves. He rubbed his eyes and temples, his mind muddled from all the riddles and strange poetry, and cryptic aphorisms of the ancient Saarians. Who were those people? He thought that upon reading their ancient teachings he would feel a sense of affinity and familiarity with his forebears, but if anything he felt even more distant and disconnected with the concept of what they believed.

The meaningful thing he understood was the oft-repeated invocation of their gods, two gods exactly, Vaarisia, the goddess of the earth and death and darkness, and Numir, the god of the sky and life and light. The Saarians were at least simple in defining only mother and father figures as gods. The interesting part of their religion was that the Saarians considered themselves the progeny of the gods, but only demigods as both Vaarisia and Numir had a copious history of seducing various humans along the way. Thus the Saarian race was born.

Other than gleaning these few insights, Master Vhelan found little else of value from the ancient volumes but cryptic stories, and nothing decipherable in the Saarian relics and charms. And with word of King Braxion's army breaching the elven gates at Yhalan, the sorcerer knew he had little time to remain in the Kingdom of Drazal'tan. He was ready to fly west with his allies, and seek out Princess Sebine and the wizard's grandson in Shaar'el, that is if they survived the dangerous journey to the Malathian capitol...

He felt disappointed as he stood to leave the dimly lit room, and though the experience of reading the ancient books was baffling, he had still felt enthralled gaining a glimpse into the life and culture and beliefs of his ancestors. Though he could not now see the value in what he had read, he hoped that someday the pieces of the chaotic puzzle might fit into something useful. Perhaps once he arrived there in those ruins in the northern steppes?

Outside he was greeted by the kind, questioning eyes of his wife, Mistress Lassendre. "Is it time for us to depart, Master?"

The sorcerer nodded and shuffled along the dark, earthen corridors of Raukris, pleased at the prospect of finally leaving this gloomy place. Why the dark elves enjoyed spending much of their time locked deep inside the bowels of this foul city, Master Vhelan would never know. He gathered his allies together from the various chambers and libraries where they studied and practiced their magical arts, and they collected their meager belongings and flew far up the open-air shafts until finally they reached the delightfully crisp mountain air.

They hovered for a while and worshipped the afternoon golden sun, which shone brightly above the low clouds nestled atop the menacing mountains. Master Vhelan enjoyed the feeling of the sun's heat on his skin and the invigorating air purified his lungs of the staleness of the underground city. There was no need to say their goodbyes to Jolrath, as the dark elf had been deep in planning and discussions with his high council all week. Would the high elves abandon Khalas Dralorn and go east, or would they stay and fight against King Braxion and his army of draenyx warriors? The sorcerer believed there would be no battles fought in the Kingdom of Drazal'tan.

Mistress Lassendre pointed at the sight of their dragons circling high over a mountain peak, and the sorcerer sped off to intercept them, hoping to make as much use of the daylight as possible, as their journey to Khalas Dralorn needed to be swift. The ancient magical portals found in the heart of their city would prove invaluable on their journey to Shaar'el, and save them many days of hard flying to the Malathian Kingdom. Luckily the massive portals had been built with dragons in mind...

The dragon flight over the treacherous mountains where Raukris was hidden showed streams of marching soldiers departing the ancient city, likely in the aim of claiming their right to rule the elven kingdom. Soon the two great armies would meet in the mystical forest between Khalas Dralorn and Yhalan, and Master Vhelan had little doubt that traitorous Jolrath would stay his wrath against King Braxion until the dark elf had something of power to use against the King. Something gained in the ruins of the Saarian Empire.

The sorcerer let his mind wander for a long while, gazing at the distant landscape, until after what might have been hours of flying, a thought came to his mind. What did King Braxion want in Drazal'tan? As he stared at the landscape, the answer came swiftly. Of course, one of the relics of power that bound Prince Xanthes to that foul prison. In Khalas Dralorn, in the temple of Selderei, there was the Mirror of Halien'shur, which bound Prince Xanthes to the dungeon of Naverstrom. The other mirrors that bound the other six Princes were unknown to him. Certainly the dwarven relic was already possessed, as was the human relic, the Amulet of Tabershem, once housed in the Arcanum. But the last relic that was needed undoubtedly came from Shaar'el, but this was still unknown to Master Vhelan. He would need to discover that for himself...

A laugh escaped from Master Vhelan's mouth as an insidious idea crept into his mind. What if he stole the Mirror of Halien'shur from Khalas Dralorn? With the high elves leaving or likely already left, what was to stop him from swooping into the elven city and procuring the relic? He smiled as he pictured the furious face of King Braxion, and knew that in order to protect Jolrath from bloodshed and war in Drazal'tan, he'd need to leave a note of some kind, a taunting note inviting them to visit the Malathian Kingdom. He very much enjoyed being devious.

When the kiss of darkness had reached the sky and the evening star shone brightly at the zenith, Master Vhelan smiled to himself as they reached the elven capitol, and he gazed over beautiful Khalas Dralorn. From the air, the city reminded him of a bed of diamonds set on a carpet of black velvet.
The Glittering City
was how the Hakkadians had often described the view of the city at night, and remembering the descriptions of the Saarian cities, he imagined that the elves in many ways shared a similar design aesthetic to the ancient civilization of his forebears. Would he truly be able to finally visit those ruins, or should he do his best to keep his people away, knowing the danger to their lives? He knew the curse was real.

He aimed his flight down to the holiest place in Khalas Dralorn, the ancient tree temple of Selderei, where the stone and silver architecture of the temple melded with the roots and trunk of the ten thousand year old tree. The over twenty dragons landing on the square surrounding the temple caused many of the elven worshippers to whisper and whisk away in surprise. Master Vhelan was pleased to find no opposing high elven guards greeting their arrival, although one high elf did shuffle over towards them, a very old priest with bushy eyebrows and a snarling expression on his mouth.

"Get out of here, you disgusting filth! Hakkadian scum are not welcome here." The old priest flapped his hand as if it actually had the power to move the sorcerer.

"We mean you no harm, priest," Master Vhelan said, and dismounted from his dragon by flying far over the high elf to the mouth of the temple. His companions followed his lead and they strode inside, hearing the beating of the dragon's wings as they obeyed the sorcerer's silent command to seek out game and hunt in the forest nearby. They still had time before King Braxion arrived, time enough to ensure that the Mirror of Halien'shur was securely in their possession.

Many priests and worshippers protested their entry into the sacred temple, but the Hakkadians paid them no mind, only bowing in peace and offering assurances of their unwillingness to offer violence. A few priests possessed murderous intent in their eyes and moved with swords and daggers to assault them, but a wave of his hand caused their attackers to fall into a peaceful slumber.

At last they reached the inner sanctum and Master Vhelan found himself marveling at the sight of the metallic Mirror of Halien'shur mounted atop a silver pedestal, an eternal ray of sunlight shining down upon the holy relic. To the sorcerer's surprise, the relic was unguarded. He knew the elves lived a life of unmolested enchantment, protected in their sheltered Kingdom, but still he found himself shocked at their failure to protect one of their holiest relics. This certainly attested to the fact that the high elves had already left the city.

"Are you so foolish as to dare steal our most sacred relic?" Master Vhelan turned to inspect the old priest that had first greeted them in the square. "I know of you, Hakkadian, you are the one they call their leader. Do you not realize that this relic in one of the relics that protects the world from the wrath of Prince Xanthes of Naverstrom? Or is it your intent to bring the relic to the Prince now that our high council and nobility have left Khalas Dralorn for the east?"

"Neither, honored priest of Selderei. I've come here to protect your relic from King Braxion and his army of invaders. It seems to me that the City of Shaar'el is likely a safer place for the relic, at least for now. Don't you agree? I am guessing that King Rhaelian has refused to take the relic with him for fear of being hunted down by King Braxion? Likely you quarreled with him on this point and this is the reason you stayed behind?"

The old priest's eyes widened in surprise. "How do you know all this? King Rhaelian was foolish to leave us, and now Khalas Dralorn will be lost to the dark elves, and our most holy relics stolen by the invaders. But why would you desire to help us? The Hakkadians are slaves to the Princes of Naverstrom."