The Gems of Raga-Tor (Elemental Legends Book 1) (41 page)

“Well, whatever is true, I still don’t like the look of it. There is something here that I don’t trust,” Eris said. He walked a slow, wide arc around to one side of the gleaming avatar.

Raga followed him, but not willingly as Eris’ glare obliged him to come along. Raga wanted to feel the yellow gem safe within his hands. He wanted to feel the surge of power that would restore him at least part way to normal. At least he hoped that with two gems in hand that would be the case. With a bit of luck for a change, maybe Eris wouldn’t fuss too much about handing over the green one.

Still the avatar showed no sign of life and Eris, now nearing the avatar’s hindquarters, stepped a little closer to the clawed foot that dug into the red dirt.

“Let’s just grab the stone and run. This thing is too big to be very fast,” Raga said impatiently.

“Shhh,” Eris shushed him.

Slowly, Eris extended his sword and, just in case the avatar was sleeping, he lightly tapped one of the scales on the ankle just above the foot. Something didn’t feel right in the vibration that came back. He tapped a little more forcefully, but the scale didn’t ring as metal-on-metal should have done, but thudded dully instead.

“I’m beginning to like this less and less,” Eris said and walked a few more steps toward the tail. He reached out with his other hand, that he forced to stop trembling, and touched another scale. It was cold, but not metallic. It was cold like the underside of a snake. Though the scales gleamed like polished metal, they felt more like thick leather.

“Raga, what do you think—” Eris started to ask quietly then stopped as he sensed himself alone. He looked over his shoulder and saw Raga walking back to the pedestal. “Don’t touch the stone,” he warned in a voice as loud as he dared. A frown creased his forehead.

Raga waved a hand over his head to indicate that he had heard, and Eris continued his circumspection. He paused when he was directly behind the avatar and looked up the slope of its massive back.
Three score men could ride on the back of this thing.

A subtle noise, like the delicate scrape of a lizard scurrying across a rock, came unexpectedly to his ears. He froze. It was too soft a noise for Raga to have made, and too close. He hadn’t seen any living creature since they entered the Vale. He listened. The sound came again, near his feet. He looked down. His uneasy feeling turned rapidly from apprehension to dread.

In the hard dirt, near the tip of the avatar’s thinning tail, he saw faint striations made by the sharp edges of even the smallest scales. He felt his mouth go as dry as the barren land around him. He stared at the ground and saw the tail’s tip flick back the other way deepening the grooves in the red earth.

“Riza’s pits!” he swore in a suddenly hoarse voice. “This thing is alive!”

He fought the rise of panic that threatened to bind him where he stood. The tail flipped once more beneath his stunned gaze and Eris knew he had to get that gem and be away before the whole thing began to move. How could two men ever hope to fight such a monster and thus far Raga had shown little in the way of weapons skill even with his own crossbow.

Eris ran back toward the head of the avatar, but on a wide path that put him a considerable distance out of the creature’s reach. He didn’t need the avatar breaking his ribs the way Morengoth had. He pulled up mid-stride, jaw clenched, and saw Raga standing with his hands on both sides of the pedestal and, unbelievably, with his back to the dragon.

A spark flashed on the nose and Eris knew the head was moving. A muscle twitched on one massive forearm and Raga was oblivious to it all. The sorcerer only saw the beautiful facets of the deep-yellow gem lying in front of him.

“Damn him to the pits! He’s going to get us both killed,” Eris muttered, angrily. He tried not to watch the clawed fingers of one hand beginning to flex. This dragon was not about to tear itself apart, but would relish the crushing of their bones instead.

Instinctively, he knew it was Raga’s touch to the pedestal that woke the avatar. Why couldn’t he have waited just a little longer, he fumed. He knew that if Raga picked up that gem, the avatar would spring on him before he ever knew what happened. Why couldn’t he have waited until they had a plan of attack before getting so close? Maybe they could have sacrificed a horse to the beast’s hunger in their attempt, but now Eris didn’t know what to do. He felt frustrated that a plan didn’t spring to his mind, as quite often happened when he was in a bind. Maybe it was his encounter with the Warder Mist that was slowing him down or perhaps, this time it was Raga’s turn to bear the consequences of a gem’s recovery.

Eris wiped a sleeve across his eyes as nervous sweat ran on his face. His heart pounded and his hand kept trying to clench the sword's hilt tighter still. He glanced at its freshly honed sharpness. He knew it would take both edges and something else besides to bring down a beast of this size.

A thought came to him. If Raga was fool enough to turn his back to the avatar, then why not let it have him? Maybe fate would let him win this round. If the avatar killed him, then so be it. While it supped on the sorcerer’s blood, he might have a chance to get the yellow stone and escape. He had watched Raga hang the red stone's pouch on the saddle horn along with his rickety bow.

Why not let fate rid the world of another magic user, whose lore was filled with tales and accounts of the death and destruction he wrought? Surely a god and its avatar had more power than a sorcerer, elemental or not.

Eris lowered his guard and watched as one massive, golden talon moved ever closer to Raga, who continued to stare at his gem as if unable, or unwilling, to take it and run. He probably wouldn’t run anyway if he picked it up, Eris thought, but would do what he was doing now, stare at it with no thought to his own safety. If the avatar swallowed Raga down, then he would find a way to fell the beast and cut the stone out of its belly. That was, unless Raga used the last of his essence and exploded like a fireball the way he did under the pier in Rennas Baye. Eris shuddered at the thought. Either way, he would be free of Raga and soon after that, free of Charra-Tir’s spell. The second claw began to flex as Raga’s hands moved ever closer to the gem.

From his experience with other sorcerous encounters, Eris knew that one touch, one slight movement of the gem from its resting place would rouse the avatar into furious action. He watched in anticipation of Raga paying the heavy price for this stone.

The jaw of the great dragon opened wider and its head tilted to one side, toward him. He saw the huge, ruby eye twinkle, then it flashed brightly as an inner fire had just been lit. Red light shone brightly in the socket casting out rays that made the face of the dragon gleam with undulating orange light. The massive head tilted a degree more and Eris knew it was looking at him. He drew up into a defensive posture. The head tilted again, almost as if it was posing a question, but what question? Challenge, permission, he had no idea. Eris glanced at Raga, unaware and defenseless. Again, the beast nodded to him and the claw nearest him seemed to point to Raga.

Eris felt suddenly shamed by his thoughts and his desire for Raga’s death. Of course the sorcerer would stand there like a fool. Raga had always wandered the world with enormous power in hand. He didn’t know any better than to not turn his back to a potential enemy even in his own backyard, but he did. Eris looked at the sword in his hand. It was possibly the difference between life and death for them both. It could possibly preserve the alliance that Raga had fought so hard to keep alive and well between them, and that meant much more to the sorcerer than it did to him. Even more, he realized in his shame at forgetting his father’s lessons, was that the sword wasn’t just a length of steel or a convenient means to an end, but it was the symbol of all that he was, strove for and believed in. It was his code of discipline. It was his honor.

He knew then that the bright light of that honor would be diminished if he did nothing. He had risked life and limb for lesser people and lesser causes than the one before him now. In that moment of indecision, of crisis, time slowed and he saw with better clarity the relationship Raga was trying to forge with him. A friendship that was in stark contrast to the tales he had heard of the mighty Raga-Tor, the Great Destroyer. Not that they weren't true, but they didn't apply to him.

Raga had healed him and tried to protect him as best he knew how with the crumbling of his own powers and prowess. In the time of nightmare, he had somehow felt Raga there with him feeling just as overwhelmed, but at the same time trying to give comfort, to protect. Theirs was an alliance of mutual need. But friendship had been born of hardship and strengthened, he had to admit, by a respect they silently bore each other. Though he had very real justification for his fear of all things magical, perhaps it wasn’t right to assign it to all, including Raga. The sorcerer had made every attempt to be open with him, but in his own stubbornness, he refused to accept it.

What if he did die in the end? Did it matter? Perhaps it mattered more that Raga-Tor, first-elemental of fire, be preserved over the dust of a man. At least he would meet death fighting for his ideals, for the code of honor and discipline that ruled his life. The code that stood by his side and fueled his heart with courage and lessened his fear.

His own words came back to him when he remembered telling Raga that fear and hesitancy were the greatest threat to a warrior and to those that he protected. As Raga had defended him, so he was honor bound to do the same. The voice of his conscience berated him. To hesitate in battle could cost a man his life or the life of his comrade.

Eris knew that whatever other faults he might have, the breaking of his discipline, the disavowal of his honor, were not going to be a part of them. They were the foundations of his life.

A surge of emotion rose in him. He would not breach his vows to himself, to those ideals his father had painstakingly put in him that gave him true quality and substance, and that allowed him rise above lesser men.

“Raga! The avatar lives!” Eris shouted. “Raga, get away from the pedestal. Don’t move the stone.”

As Eris ran toward him, Raga raised his head with a look of confusion. Eris looked up and saw the dragon's jaw moving with greater ease. Raga followed Eris’ gaze upward and instantly realized his peril. It was then he saw one of the great claws moving in his direction. Raga turned quickly to go toward Eris, when the toe of his boot caught on the base of the pedestal. He attempted to stop his fall by reaching out to grab the pedestal, but instead both toppled to the ground and the yellow gem went flying out of his reach.

“Clumsy fool! Get away!” Eris shouted at him. His running stride lengthened and the driving muscles in his legs strained for speed as the avatar growled and nimbly moved to guard the jewel. He wondered if he had hesitated too long.

Raga looked up to see Eris bearing down on the avatar with sword poised to strike and grim determination on his face.

“Move! Roll!” Eris roared at him.

Blindly, without knowing what to do, Raga rolled toward the feet of the avatar as Eris hurled himself at the rapidly moving claw that reached down for him. The blade bit deeply into the avatar’s flesh as he rolled through his leap pulling the sword with him. The dragon roared with pain as clear yellow ichor spouted from the deep gash. Eris’ black clothes were coated with a fine layer of red as he gained his feet and ran back toward Raga and the other claw now descending on him. With his foot, he gave Raga a quick prod to the ribs to get him moving and out of the way.

“Go on! You’ll get yourself killed,” Eris shouted at him. The sword arced and lopped off a talon from the other claw.

“But my stone,” Raga protested as he crawled on the ground, searching for the scattered gem.

“Damn you! Get out of my way!” Eris ordered fiercely. “I’ll get it for you.”

Raga scrambled away on all fours and barely missed being stepped on by either Eris or the avatar as they circled about in their fighting frenzy. He turned as he got to his feet and saw Eris avoid being crushed by the avatar’s powerful jaws by the breadth of his sword. He stared at the vicious battle, as its intensity pitched higher. The avatar growled and snapped and Eris grunted with effort as his sword made contact with the golden flesh over and over again. Dragon ichor oozed from a dozen deep cuts, while Eris’ left shoulder bled from a gash made by a raking talon.

The sorcerer watched them in a quandary of helpless indecision. He didn’t know what to do. Eris needed his help, but what could he do? Precious moments passed and Raga noticed that Eris was beginning to favor his left side though slightly. As his blood flowed, so would his strength.

He ran to Eris’ horse and pulled out the Tamori sword. He hefted its weight in his hand and took a practice swing. Watching Eris, he realized he was no swordsman and never would be. He let it fall to the ground. He would just be in the way.

He ran to his horse and pulled his broken bow from the saddle and fumbled with the pouch containing the red stone. He thrust the red gem into the indentation on the bow’s curving edge. It remained in place, but he felt no return of power and the bow remained as shoddy as before.

“Has all my power left me?” Raga muttered, staring down at the recalcitrant weapon. He put it aside and unstrapped the crossbow from the saddle. Perhaps he could distract the beast long enough for Eris to kick the yellow gem closer to him. Then, perhaps, his bow would work.

Eris thrust and parried blow for blow with the ferocious beast. He knew he fought a desperate fight and one that he could only pray to win. In spite of the wound to his shoulder, his strength flowed abundantly through his massive form. His body, trained by hours and hours of diligent practice, reacted and responded with precisely executed moves. Lust for blood and the desire to hear the shuddering gasps of a dying beast pulsed through every nerve and muscle in his body and gave his heart the courage to withstand the overpowering onslaught of the mighty dragon.

He was splattered head to foot with the sticky substance that oozed and squirted from numerous slashes that parted the gold-scaled flesh. Time and again he tried to reach the yellow gem, and each time the avatar repulsed him.