The Gems of Raga-Tor (Elemental Legends Book 1) (28 page)

Raga’s heart pounded and wondered how his mouth became drier than it already was. He tried to reach Eris through the link. It was impossible. The silver path was there, but it was warped and convoluted in the swirling confusion of Eris’ pain. Raga dared not enter.

“Who dares to attack the royal person of Morengoth?” a deep voice bellowed in the darkness.

“Forgive the impertinence, Morengoth, but I believe it is you who attacked us first. We certainly had no intention of seeing the inside of your dungeon, much less in these chains,” Raga said, in as diplomatic a voice as possible. Angered flared in him and once again he found himself fearing for Eris’ life. Another time, he would have brought his enormous powers to bear against this stranger.

“I have attacked no one. It is you who have come unbidden into my kingdom,” Morengoth said.

“Into what kingdom have we trespassed? This forest has been desolate of life for nigh three centuries. Who is it that you rule?” Raga asked. He wished then that Eris had told him more of the legends of this forest. In all his countless years, Raga had never bothered much with the region. Nor did he bother much with the countless legends of men.

“Do not mock me,” Morengoth warned. “Perhaps your impetuous friend can give you the answer.”

Morengoth turned and strode to where Eris now lay. As easily as a child picks up a doll, Morengoth picked up Eris from beneath the arms. A plaintive cry escaped him as Morengoth dragged him to a spot on the floor illumined by the lantern’s light and dropped him as though he was that same, unfeeling toy.

“Gods!” Eris groaned in anguish and slipped into semi-consciousness. His face was pale in the yellow light.

Raga reached out and rubbed a warm hand over his clammy brow. He wondered how Eris had ever survived life on his own if things like this befell him with any regularity.

“Tell him, knave.” Morengoth prodded Eris with his foot. “Tell him who is Morengoth. I think you know.”

“Eris?” Raga said, patting him gently on his cheek. “Eris, did you hear?”

Eris raised a brow to acknowledge he heard, and took a shallow breath.

“Legends say Morengoth…was the name…of…the last…Dragon King,” he answered. His breathing was ragged and shallow. “The war ended…no one claimed…to have…killed him…or saw him…escape.”

“So, you claim to be this Morengoth?” Raga asked.

“I do not claim. I am. I am Morengoth,” he pronounced in a booming voice.

“Hard to believe, but let's say for the moment you are,” Raga conceded. “What has this got to do with us? Why do this?”

“I want the woman who travels with you. The one you have somehow hidden from me. I saw her swimming in the pond not far from your camp. I sent the mists to capture her. In your own feeble attempt to escape, you have somehow managed to hide her from me. I intend to have her.

“She was promised to me three centuries gone. She was promised as the one who would restore my kingdom and I will have her,” Morengoth said forcefully. Raga didn’t miss the twinge of desperation in his voice.

Eris suddenly made a noise and reached out to grab Raga's leg.

“Don’t you dare…Raga,” Eris wheezed. A violent cough shook him. Spots of blood splattered his face and he groaned in agony. Tears rolled from his eyes. “Do you…hear me? Ancient…history…has nothing…to do…with me.”

His grip relaxed as he coughed again. His eyes rolled partially back as he fought for consciousness. He wanted to give in to pain, for to it take him into oblivion, but he didn't trust Raga. He wasn't going to become part of the bargain again.

“Easy, Eris,” Raga said. His hand continued to rub across Eris' face. The increased heat coming from it had a mildly soothing effect. “Neither of us is going to do anything. Stay calm, stop struggling.”

Morengoth tilted his shrouded head. Raga knew Eris’ reaction confused him, and that he held him in contempt. For what reason, he wasn’t sure. For a man to attempt escape was not unreasonable, especially when Morengoth would have seen the plethora of Eris’ weapons and understood them.

“Morengoth, to avoid any further confusion, I believe you need to know just who we are,” Raga said with a bit of insistence. “This animosity between us isn’t necessary, and I would hope that your royal grace would at least allow me to explain. We may be able to help you in some way. Besides, you have also taken something of great value to us, and it is only reasonable that we negotiate its return.”

Morengoth pondered Raga's words for a moment and then said, “Very well. I will take you to the upper chambers where we may speak with more comfort. It has been some time since I have had a visitor.”

“I believe you mean 'visitors',” Raga corrected as Morengoth released him from the manacles.

“No, I spoke plain enough. This one means nothing to me. The nature of man is slow to change. He is no better than those who attacked my fortress and killed my people. He is a man of violence, and I have no need of his kind,” Morengoth said.

“Then I’ll have to remain here with him. For the time being we are bound to each other by mutual necessity. Violent, or not, he has value to me. Of course that could all end, and perhaps badly even for me, should he die in this place,” Raga said, getting to his feet. He crossed his arms over his chest. “I would also put it to you that he is a clever fellow, and not without merit. His youth is not necessarily wasted on him and he can be quite useful.”

Raga didn’t miss Morengoth's appraisal of his girth.

“As I said before, a way to get back what is ours,” Raga said.

“I admit, you have some valid points,” Morengoth said.

“I would ask, as a show of faith on your part, that you free my companion as well. I can well vouch for his violent nature, but he is a man of honor. I will take responsibility for him, though he is in no condition to cause you trouble. At least let him rest and heal in comfort. For surely he will die if he remains here,” Raga said. He nudged the broken chain with his foot. He knew Eris was strong and would probably recover given time, yet the pallor of his face concerned him.

“Very well. For whatever reason, you obviously esteem this creature. I will take him to the spring to be healed. There, we will drink and you will tell me your tale,” Morengoth agreed and unlocked the manacles.

As easily as before, Morengoth picked up Eris' now unconscious form and carried him deeper into the caverns of the great mountain. Raga lumbered behind still unable to follow the silver path in Eris' mind. The blackness there was even darker than the passageways through which he was taken.

As Morengoth stepped into a warm, steamy cavern, low-burning torches ringing the room suddenly flared into brightness. It was a trick that always delighted Raga, and momentarily lifted the gloominess of his thoughts. It also made him long for the restoration of his power. He couldn't waste it on such frivolities these days. He wondered about this healing spring. Whether it would work or not?

He was even less sure how to heal the injuries Eris had now versus the deathtrap in Charra-Tir's curse. He knew there was serious damage to the inside of him now that he had coughed spots of blood. Healing magic injuries was one thing, but this was quite another.

The cavern contained many pools of various size; each filled by its own warm spring bubbling up in its center. The air smelled vaguely of sulfur, and dissolved mineral salts stained some of the pools with vibrant colors.

Morengoth halted beside a clear pool that had been constructed by hands rather than by nature. Near the water was a long, rock slab onto which he placed Eris’ still form.

“This is the healing pool,” Morengoth explained. “Since the first of my people came here, we brought all of our sick and injured to be healed. The others are merely for bathing and relaxation, but this one has always been different. To honor its power, my ancestors built this beautiful pool with its stairs and sitting ledges to help the sick heal without fear of drowning.”

“Your people were different from Eris. Can it heal him?” Raga asked as he pulled off Eris’ boots.

“I don't know, but it is my wish that it will as you find some favor in this man,” Morengoth answered. “I will get food and wine and bring it here. You may attend to him.”

Raga nodded and watched Morengoth, still shrouded in his cloak, leave the cavern. He wondered what he looked like under those dark folds of fabric. After all, no one had seen a dragon man for three hundred years—if that's truly who he was.

Raga frowned and realized he couldn’t handle Eris with Morengoth’s ease. In fact, he could barely handle his dead weight at all and was glad he was unconscious. He was surely causing great pain and likely more damage in his efforts to get him to the pool’s edge. Once he had him there, Raga wasn't quite sure what to do.

Raga was afraid of water. The fact that Eris had dropped him into the sea was still disturbing to him. It was the antithesis of his being. He could no more like water than could the street torches welcome dousing rains.

After thinking a moment, he pushed Eris feet first into the water and hoped he would float. He did. But just to make sure he didn't accidentally drown, Raga locked his fingers behind Eris’ neck and held his face well above the surface of the water.

“Eris, if you survive this, you owe me,” Raga muttered. As he watched Eris’ bobbing form, Raga hoped he wouldn't become too disoriented and fall headfirst into the warm water. Already he had to close his eyes to ward against waves of dizziness.

A short while later, he heard Morengoth return.

“You may enter if you like,” Morengoth said as he approached from behind.

“I'm fine right here,” Raga said.

“The water is not only for the physically sick. It also eases a mind burdened by troubles. I fall into the latter category. I visit the spring every few days,” the Dragon King explained. He placed a large silver platter on the floor next to Raga. “Wine?”

“Yes, thank you,” Raga said. He glanced over to see Morengoth kneeling beside him and was somewhat taken aback by the appearance of the dragon man. He realized then that he had never encountered this race. Or if he had, it was so many millennia ago that he didn't remember.

Morengoth was indeed as tall as his cloak had made him appear, which made him a head or two taller yet than either Eris or himself. Like Eris, Morengoth was possessed of a darkly handsome face, but his features were sharper with an almost cruel look. At first glance, he seemed mannish, but a closer look revealed differences. Brilliant green, fin-like combs grew fan-like from the sides of his neck just behind his ears. His eyes were intensely green and slit in the way of reptiles. His hair tended toward coarseness and was long and black, but for a lock of blue-green that grew back from the center of his forehead.

He was bare-chested and Raga assumed he would take to the water as well. Except for the hair on his head, Morengoth seemed void of body hair in reptilian fashion. Instead, his massively muscled chest and upper arms were covered with delicate, shimmering green scales. The backs of his hands, which had an odd, claw-like appearance, were covered with velvety scales, as were the tops of his feet. The rest was hidden beneath a pair of tight, black breeches that strained to cover his powerful legs.

“Drink,” Morengoth said and handed Raga a silver cup. He slid into the water and seated himself on a ledge near where Eris floated still unmoving.

Seeing the uncovered form of Morengoth, Raga had little doubt that he was the last Dragon King, but the enigma of his professed longevity was a mystery.

The wine was excellent and Raga drank deeply from his cup, which Morengoth, being a good host, refilled immediately.

“Now that you are a little more comfortable, you will tell me of the woman who travels with you. And, where you have hidden her,” Morengoth said. Urgency crept back into his voice.

“The explanation is not as simple as a hiding place,” Raga said. After a pause, he continued. “My lord, Morengoth, you must believe what I say. We have no woman in our company. It’s—”

“Do not presume to take advantage of my benevolence,” Morengoth warned.

“I would never do so intentionally. Just permit me to explain. You see, the woman you saw this morning is really Eris. The man you have nearly killed,” Raga said.

Morengoth jerked the cup away from his lips and glared at Raga. His eyes narrowed in disbelief. Palpable anger flowed from him, which was something Raga was now all too familiar with.

“Please,” Raga said quickly, “be patient and let me explain.”

“I am not a patient man, nor do I intend to be made a fool. You will speak plainly and spare me the details,” Morengoth said.

Raga sighed. Morengoth was Eris all over again and wondered why he was suddenly fated to come against these men. Fortunately, Morengoth listened without interruption as he told him a guarded tale of their plight ending with finding themselves in Morengoth’s dungeon.

Eris began to stir as Raga recounted their ordeal in Reshan. He vaguely heard bits and pieces as he drifted in and out of the darkness that hovered in his mind and he struggled to breathe with the band of pain around his chest.

“So you understand, my lord, that I do not lie when I say Eris is the woman you saw. As the days pass, I only hope we finish our business before it's too late. Where he is concerned, I fear not only for his life, but also for his ability to stay in one state of being long enough to see this through. The separation between warrior and woman lessens with each passing day.

“Like you, he is a warrior, a man of a certain pride. I'm sure you understand what I mean. Too bad this spring won’t cure what really ails him. Though, no doubt, this pool has become of little comfort to you over these long centuries,” Raga said, completing his tale. He turned his attention to Eris, who was beginning to move and stare about with eyes full of confusion.

Morengoth was silent for several moments, his forehead creased in thought. Finally, he stood up and placed his cup back on the platter.

“It seems I may have misjudged this man,” Morengoth said. Raga heard regret in his voice. “It takes a brave man to do what he has done, and perhaps something more than courage to have taken up with the likes of you, Raga-Tor.”