The Gems of Raga-Tor (Elemental Legends Book 1) (13 page)

Raga drank down the contents of his cup and shook his head.

“You are yet a child, Eris. You have no idea the magnitude of trouble you are in. I don’t want to imagine what would happen if Charra-Tir finds out you’re still alive, and me without my full power. Whether you want it, or will admit to it, you need a little help. Help that only I can give you,” Raga said, trying to be calm. What mortal being was ever so stubborn with him? Raged at him without caution? An old memory flared brightly, almost as bright as the blood flowing from the fatal wound he had inflicted on that unfortunate soul. He poured more wine.

Eris was more than offended at being called a child, of being reminded of things he sought to forget.

“Damn you, sorcerer,” he said between clenched teeth. Hatred seethed out of him and settled as a quivering pool in Raga’s stomach.

Eris glared at Raga, challenging him to speak, then went out on the balcony and slammed the door behind him. The fragile, glass panes rattled in their wooden frames.

From within, Eris heard the glass goblet shatter and the faint, orange glow passing through the drawn curtains bespoke Raga’s rage.

There was never a victor in any of their arguments. From their own viewpoints, each was right, and each had valid reason for pressing his issues. Yet Eris knew events would always turn so that he would lose in the end though his margin of loss was slight.

Be patient, he told himself as he paced the balcony. His heart pounded in anger, with a fearful twinge when the orange glow intensified. The union between man and sorcerer was not destined to last forever, or so he hoped. At most, it would be a month or two until Charra-Tir was dealt with and he was free of his bond with Raga-Tor. That was, if the sorcerer didn’t kill him first. It was always a possibility. Those of his kind were never to be trusted.

Eris stopped pacing, gripped the railing and stared out into the starry night. After a while his gaze dropped into the black void of the empty desert just beyond the ring of torchlights that illuminated the ramparts of the city walls. He cursed the day his troubles began. He longed for the simple camaraderie and discipline of a mercenary camp, or riding with Raj, the outriders, as protection for the great caravans. Or, given his current state of mind, to be a part of an elite vanguard, raging with bloodlust, that spearheaded the charge of a mighty army. Not to mention the more subtle pleasures afforded the victors of such great battles. That thought brought him rudely back to his present dilemma. He paced again, muttering curses, until at last weariness halted him.

His head throbbed and the queasiness of earlier assailed him. He leaned against the balcony's smooth, stone wall and slid down slowly until he sat on the cool, marble tile. He breathed slowly, deeply to calm the churning in his stomach, to force out the heart-pounding rage. His pride refused him the soft comfort of his bed, so he pulled the cloak around himself and lay over on his side using one arm as a pillow. In a moment, he was fast asleep.

After a time Raga’s anger passed and the flames disappeared from him. He realized he actually felt tired. He had expended more energy than he would have thought possible by his inability to control his anger with Eris. The steady, yearlong decline of his power worried him greatly, and the events on the morrow would further reduce him. He wondered what would happen to him should he lose it all. He had never known one of his kind, a first-level elemental, to have done so.

Perhaps a little sleep would help, but his exasperation with Eris kept him wakeful. He wondered just what Eris was up to. It was much too quiet on the balcony for his liking. With as little movement as possible, Raga pulled the curtain back just far enough to peek out.

He smiled and his anger faded rapidly, when he saw Eris’ sleeping form. At least he wasn’t impetuous enough to have run off and disappeared into the night. He really had expected it, but then one could never predict what Eris would do next.

Raga began to undress then stopped as a thought occurred to him. Eris, as a woman, couldn’t sleep out there alone. There were too many strangers wandering the city, and a goodly portion of them unsavory at that. He wondered how many thieves roamed the shadows as wealth flowed in the streets. If one spotted the glitter of jewels, Eris’ throat would be slit from ear to ear before he ever had the chance to change back to a man. Bringing him back inside would only serve to antagonize him further, and there was great danger in forcing him back into his male form. Absently, his hand rubbed the sore spot on his chest. None of these considerations included the exhaustion factor Eris suffered during the metamorphosis, and they needed all their strength and alertness for what lay ahead. With a shrug, Raga did the next best thing as far as sorcerers thought things best.

“Mragdrog, I summon you from the pit,” he said quietly.

Somewhere out of the black night a low, rumbling growl grew louder and louder. The room’s darkness fled as the shimmering colors of an orange and purple demon appeared. Raga wasn’t particularly fond of demons, but this one had a particularly bad habit of actually being quite honest, and on occasion, even loyal.

The demon had no human attributes, as did many, except that his broad, pug face had the appearance of intelligence. Otherwise, it looked like a fierce dog out of a horrifying nightmare. Its body was void of any kind of fur, except for two bristly tufts behind its floppy ears. It stood on massive paws with razor-sharp talons that could rip a man in half with one stroke. Its thick, rope-like tail was splayed into three whip-like tails halfway down its length. The ends were all tipped with deadly brass barbs. As its tail twitched, Raga heard the subtle, snapping sounds of a flail.

The demon growled as if annoyed and great, viscous drops fell unchecked from its drooling, fanged mouth.

“I didn’t mean to disturb your dinner,” Raga apologized, “and stop slobbering on the floor. You’re not at home, you know.”

The demon gave a low growl clipped by a short woof. It sat back on its haunches and its nose was level with Raga’s chest. The broad nostrils of its purple nose sniffed the scents in the room.

“Oh, all right. I’ll give you double of whatever you were eating if you do a good job. Just don’t tell me what it was until I feel better. That’s a good price for only a single night’s work, and most of the night has already passed,” Raga said.

The demon agreed with a throaty bark, then licked its face with a thick, black tongue and licked up the floor. Raga felt himself turn green and looked away. Demons could be so disgusting, and this was one of the worst.

“When you’re finished making me ill, go out and stand guard over Eris. And, whatever you do, don’t let him see you, or you’ll get no doubles on dinner. If anyone, or anything, threatens him you come and get me. I need some sleep. Do you understand?”

Mragdrog woofed again and Raga lead him to the balcony. The demon’s solidity dissolved and its colors dimmed before passing through the wood and glass door. Mragdrog sniffed softly at Eris’ sleeping form, then sat next to him becoming only an iridescent shimmer glowing faintly in the night.

Now, Raga felt he could get a good night’s sleep. He hoped a little rest would restore some of his waning power. In all of his countless years, he had never lost, nor had anyone taken his three bow stones. He wondered what their continued absence from him would do. He had never known of a Red Vale sorcerer to actually die, forever, but he supposed it could happen. He had just never thought about it before.

He wished he knew where Eris had hidden the green stone. With Eris’ overriding influence, he knew he could hold the stone, but after tonight, there was no hope of convincing Eris to let him hold it even for a moment.

Raga pulled off his boots then went to the window to make sure Mragdrog was still where it ought to be. Without the complicated, power-draining process of binding a demon to a specific task, it sometimes forgot what it was supposed to be doing and drifted off to cause trouble before being corralled and sent back to the Vale’s hidden interior.

As usual in his dealings with this particular demon, Raga saw that Mragdrog was still where it ought to be. Oddly, it had curled up next to Eris, at least as far as the demon’s innate meanness allowed it to snuggle. Raga chuckled quietly. Perhaps those two were kindred spirits after all.

Raga fell heavily into bed and what little of the night remained, passed. After what seemed but a few moments, Raga was rudely awakened by the horrendous smell of hot, demon breath, and Mragdrog growling viciously in his ear.

The demon crouched by the side of his bed. Its colors were so intense that Raga had to shield his eyes. The only thing he really saw was that great purple nose, wet and twitching, only a measure from his own. He also discovered it was, in fact, late morning as the room was filled with the heat and stuffiness caused by the rising sun and no open doors or windows.

“I hear you, demon,” Raga said gruffly. “But you’re talking too fast. I can’t understand you.”

Mragdrog sat back on its haunches. Its colors dimmed and it spoke in a series of throaty growls punctuated with a whine or two thrown in for emphasis.

“Why didn’t you say that in the first place,” Raga said, scrambling out of bed. A red brocade robe appeared on his body as he headed for the balcony. “Go home. Your dinner is waiting.”

Mragdrog snuffled and woofed as it chased after Raga’s hurrying form.

“Yes, yes, everything is double just as I promised,” Raga said hurriedly.

The demon barked happily and hurled itself into the nearest wall and disappeared. A joyous howl echoed briefly in the sunlit room.

“What is the meaning of this intrusion?” Raga demanded angrily as he threw open the balcony doors.

His sudden appearance startled two men, who were gingerly pulling at Eris’ cloak to see just what kind of treasure was hidden beneath the emerald folds. A third man dropped down onto the balcony by means of a rope tied somewhere on the floor above.

“A gentle morning to you, good sir,” one man said nervously as he raised himself from his bent position and rubbed down the front of his shirt. Both men took a quick step backward.

With a stiff movement, the third man nodded his head to Raga’s imposing figure.

Raga quickly sized them up. “It was a good morning until you three came sneaking onto my balcony.”

Eris woke and sat up slowly. His wild, green eyes had trouble focusing on the four figures crowding his sleeping space.

“Well, what means this intrusion?” Raga prompted.

The nervous man spoke again all the while rubbing his hands on his shirt and bowing his head to Raga.

“We’ve watched this woman lie here for the better part of the night. Hearing bits of your argument, we decided that perhaps you no longer have use for her. We’re offering you our services to rid yourself of the sharp-tongued shrew,” he said.

“I see,” Raga said, somewhat amused by their presumptions. “And what would you do with my cast-off wench? That is, if I decide to let you have her.”

Eris slowly comprehended what was happening, but couldn’t shake off the fuzziness of sleep.

“Why, with a beauty like this, we’d do the same as everyone else, present her to the Sultan. We could be very rich men, and you would be rid of this shrewish hellcat,” said the man, who had been last down the rope. He grinned rudely at Eris and made an obscene gesture before reaching down to pinch his cheek.

“Bastard,” Eris mumbled and pulled his face away.

“I think that will be enough,” Raga said, sternly. He bent down, pulled Eris to his feet, and encircled him with a brawny arm.

Eris found he couldn’t do anything but play Raga’s counterpart. He pulled the cloak around himself and kept his face averted from the men, his eyes on the floor.

“I have no intention of giving my wife to the Sultan, shrew or no,” Raga told them. “I heard he was looking for, shall we say, a maiden.”

“Your wife!” the third man scoffed. “Ha! No man would leave a woman as beautiful as she unguarded in a city gone wild unless he wanted to be rid of her. I think you’re lying, old man. Besides, what does a beauty like her want with an old brute like you when she could have the attentions of a Sultan.”

Eris heard the deliberate taunting in the voice of the stranger. If he could just keep his eyes open and focused long enough, he’d give the man the fight he wanted. It wasn’t that Raga couldn’t, but rather he would take great pleasure in wiping the sneers from their faces with a length of sharpened steel.

“What passes between me and my wife is of no consequence to you,” Raga said. “Now, if you three will kindly remove yourselves from my balcony, I see no reason to summon the city guards.”

Raga smiled purposefully at them and led Eris back inside the room. With only a slight gesture, he fused solid the lock’s soft metal.

He helped Eris to a chair and he promptly started to slide off. Raga caught him just in time. Stretching out his leg, Raga caught hold of a small table with his ankle and pulled it in front of Eris, allowing him to stretch out on its polished surface.

“Raga,” Eris yawned, “did you put another sleep spell on me?”

“No. You’re simply exhausted from yester eve, and from sleeping on that hard tile,” Raga answered as he put on his clothes, and, he thought, from sleeping with a demon. What was it about Eris that made the unexpected happen? He wondered.

“Those bastards could have carried me off and I would never have heard them. By the Sword of Tyreim, what’s the matter with me?” Eris muttered. His head felt unusually heavy as it rested on top of the arm stretched out on the table.

“Sleep if you want. We have plenty of time. I’m going to find something to eat. You look much better by the way. Do you want anything to eat? Should I bring you back anything in particular?” Raga jabbered, walking to the door.

“You’re asking me too many questions. Bring whatever you want,” Eris whispered. All he wanted to do was sleep.

He was having such nice dreams. He was hunting in the wide-open countryside and nothing of any great consequence had ever happened to him. He even had an orange dog that was one of the best hunters he’d ever used. The animal was a little peculiar though: it had purple ears and nose. No matter, Eris thought with a contented smile as sleep came once more. Dreams were more often strange than not.