The Gems of Raga-Tor (Elemental Legends Book 1) (44 page)

“Speaking of Charra-Tir, why did she do to me what she did? I don’t know of any other first-level elementals ever having their power symbols stripped away,” Raga asked. He still had so many questions, but felt that Tas-Moren was probably about finished with him. Gods were rarely so talkative as this.

“I think you can figure that out on your own.”

“But—

“Don’t argue with me. You haven’t taken the time to learn. I think your stay with Riza will give you a much-needed lesson,” Tas-Moren said and held up his hand to prevent any further questions. “Go home, Raga. Eris needs your help to recover, and your knowledge to defeat Charra-Tir. But a word of advice, don’t ever think to betray him. As I alluded to before, his time has not yet come, but great champions even in their infancy often have powerful protectors.”

Raga looked up at the Tamori god feeling even more puzzled now than he had at the beginning of their conversation. There were so many things to ponder that he hardly knew where to begin.

Again, Tas-Moren held up a hand, preventing Raga from asking more questions. His form glowed brighter and brighter then vanished along with the slain avatar leaving Raga and Eris alone in the desolate land.

Raga sat a while longer staring out across the empty plain and realized that even for one such as he, life was not so easy, and probably shouldn’t have been for all those long millennia. Never in all his many years had something so unexpected as this happened to him. He had the distinct feeling that, like Eris, his foot had just stepped onto a difficult and arduous road.

Eris coughed a little and Raga turned back to him. He had never seen him look so at peace. He wondered how he was ever going to get him some place to heal. Even partially healed as he was, there was no way to get him on a horse. Worst of all, there was no guarantee that he would ever be able to walk or sit again as the thrashing tail had broken him so completely. What sort of champion would he be then?

Raga felt hot tears burn in his eyes and let them fall. There was no one to deride him for them and after a while he felt better. It was then that he noticed the bow at his side. He picked it up and held it close to his chest. The lacquer looked as though it had been freshly applied and the golden-brown wood appeared freshly carved and shaped, not cracked and decrepit. The three gems, now securely mounted on the outer curve of the bow, glimmered warmly. The bowstring, woven of the finest hemp, shone like gold with tiny flames dancing along its length.

He wondered if Charra-Tir’s spell over him was completely broken, or if somehow Eris was still affecting events where it was concerned. At the moment, though, it didn’t matter as he realized the rest of his powers had returned. In all his worry and concern over Eris, he hadn’t noticed and knew that was a good thing in the end. Perhaps that would help the gods see the truth in him.

He got up and left Eris where he was as he hurried to gather the horses, which had wandered a short distance away. He found the Tamori sword still lying in the dust and knew Eris would never forgive him for losing it. Or rather, he would eventually, but his life would be miserable in the meantime. His other sword had vanished with the avatar.

Bringing the horses back to where Eris lay, he used one set of reins to tie the animals together and the other set to tie a horse to Eris’ wrist. He bent down and tied Eris’ bloody, green sash to his ankle, then picked up the bow and from his quiver drew an out an arrow with red fletching. With eager anticipation, he put the arrow to the string and bent back the bow. He aimed for home and let the arrow fly.

Raga, Eris and the two horses instantly vaporized into a bolt of sizzling red energy that streaked across the leagues of the Red Vale at a velocity of which men could only dream. As quick as lightning flashed in a summer storm, Raga and his little group touched down lightly on the ground just outside the cave where Raga’s double had lain these many months.

With a wave of his hand, the veil of deception lifted to reveal a rotting corpse, which he had found abandoned and unburied in the grasslands beyond the Vale wall. With another wave of his hand, the ghoulish thing was consumed in a cleansing, raging fire that continued to burn long after the body had been reduced to nothing more than minuscule pieces of ash.

Finally satisfied that the cave was cleansed of all impurities, Raga cut the sash from his ankle and bent to pick up Eris’ limp form. He was pleased to see that with the return of his mighty power, so too did his physical strength. With hardly a strain, he scooped Eris into his arms, carried him inside and laid him on a freshly Raga-made bed.

Then Raga-Tor, the Great Destroyer, set about to care for the one thing, the one person he had ever truly learned to care about.

For more than a week Eris slept in Tas-Moren’s healing sleep, though not always peacefully. Often he ordered and shouted at unseen people, demons and whatever else troubled his sleep. As abruptly as he talked, he stopped, making Raga feel as though he hadn’t slept at all when morning came.

Every morning Raga busied himself by making sure his home was clean and tidy, and every afternoon he put a pot of stew over the fire in the hope that Eris would finally awaken and have a bit of an appetite. Even the horses, which Eris had nearly ridden to death, were fattened and ready for another journey. But now that he had his powers back, he would travel by very different means. His hand rubbed along the bow’s smooth, lacquered curve as it stood on end in a little niche near the cave’s entrance. A satisfied smile came to his face as he surveyed his home and all that he had done to make it more appealing to Eris. He was sure Eris wouldn’t want to be there for very long, but at least it was warm and safe, or as safe as anything could be in the Vale’s ever-changing terrain.

One balmy afternoon, as Raga came up the steps from feeding the horses, he heard a welcome sound; the rustling of bedcovers and the squeak of leather straps holding the bed together. Eris had finally awakened and was trying to sit up.

“Easy, easy, don’t get up yet,” Raga said as he hurried across the room. He brought a cup of water and gently propped Eris up with his arm. Eris drank all that was offered, then two more cups besides.

When he drank his fill, Raga carefully propped him up with a pile of satin pillows. He tucked a blanket back around him and stepped back with a bit of a frown. Eris’ eyes had a glazed quality and whatever bodily strength he might have had when he tried to sit up was gone. He was as limp and lifeless as he had been asleep.

For his part, Eris sat and stared in a befuddled daze without knowing or thinking anything. Just as a thought or word drifted by it was lost again in confusion, in not being able to concentrate. He remained that way for the better part of the day and into the night, when he drifted off to sleep after drinking something warm that Raga had made him drink.

The next morning Raga came to prop him up again. Slowly, he realized that the image reflected on the bottom of a copper pot hanging on the wall was his. Later in the afternoon he realized he was clean and clean-shaven and wondered if Raga had actually scraped the stubble from his face or had magicked it off, not that it really mattered at the moment. He felt so tired, so drained of life that it was an effort just to lean against the mound of pillows.

He didn’t mind Raga’s endless chatter, because he was having a difficult time understanding more than two or three words at a time. His thoughts and ideas scattered from his mind in a matter of moments. Yet in spite of his mindlessness and a dull, aching sense that his body was still not rightly healed, he did enjoy being fed hot soup as often as Raga would bring it to him.

Finally, on the evening of the next day, Eris felt he had no choice but to speak.

“Raga, stop your incessant chatter,” he said hoarsely. His throat hurt and it felt as though he hadn’t had a drink in a month. A fit of coughing took him, and he winced at the pain that sent sharp spikes shooting down his legs and then settled into a dull throbbing across his hips.

“Relax, here,” Raga said, hurrying to the bedside with a cup of wine and helped him drink. When Eris was finished, Raga propped him up again on soft pillows and then pulled a stool next to the bed and sat down. He was elated that Eris had finally spoken and his eyes had mostly lost their confused stare.

“Are you in pain?” Raga asked, seeing him make another face.

“It will pass.”

“Here, can you hold the cup? A little more wine will help,” Raga suggested. He helped him position his hands in his lap and settled the cup between them.

“Maybe I can hold it, but I don’t think I have the strength to lift it.” It seemed to take every bit of concentration he had just to keep the cup from spilling over.

“Then I will help you, when you are ready. How do you feel?”

“Exhausted. Confused. Where are we?”

“In my home.”

“Where?”

“We’re still in the Vale, but far from where we were before,” Raga answered. He helped Eris bring the cup to his lips after he tried unsuccessfully to do it himself and spilled more than he swallowed.

“Why is the sky blue, not red?”

“It’s an illusion. Most of what you see is illusion. The cave, the grass and water yonder are real, but the trees, the sky, the colors are more or less illusion. I really don’t like all that red anymore than you do,” Raga explained.

“How long?”

“Almost two weeks.”

“Oh,” Eris said, and was silent again for a while. Raga sat, impatiently, waiting for him to speak again, or for him to fall back asleep. He just wasn’t sure what was or wasn’t going on behind the dark shadow of his eyes.

“Was I dead?” Eris asked finally.

“Not exactly.”

“But Riza was coming. I felt him, heard him…I think.”

“He came and was as obnoxious as usual, but he was sent away,” Raga said.

Eris looked puzzled. He let his head press deeper into the pillows as a wave of exhaustion came over him.

“I don’t understand. I thought I was with him until I woke up. There was so much pain, and the nightmares,” Eris said.

“No, I got to keep you, so to speak. If you feel like talking, I’ll tell you what happened,” Raga answered.

“Go ahead. I don’t feel like sleeping right now,” Eris said. “The last thing I really remember was telling you where the stone was.”

“That’s the last thing?” Raga asked. His face suddenly looked worried yet hopeful at the same time. Eris didn't miss his concern, but raised his brow in question.

“Why, what else did I say?”

“Well, that you…well, you said that I…never mind, maybe this should wait until tomorrow,” Raga said and he dropped his head with a shrug.

“I meant that word I spoke.”

“You remember?” Raga raised his head. He saw Eris considering him with his charming, but altogether disarming, smile. “You’re way too cocky for your own good,” he grumbled, but joy flashed fire in his eyes.

“I imagine so. That’s why I’m in this bed,” Eris said.

“You only know the half of it, my boy.” Raga held up a hand to silence Eris’ protest at the use of the word that had angered him in the past. “Now it’s my turn to tell you a few things, and you will listen. I don’t know what possessed you to make that bargain with Riza, but don’t ever, ever, do something so stupid again, or you’ll wish you were lying here before I’m done with you.”

“You know very well why I did it. I was taking my chances either with him or you. At the time, it looked like a fair balance. Besides, did you ever wonder what was in that other pouch hanging on my sword’s sheath?” Eris asked.

“I looked at it once. It’s just a whetstone.”

Eris shook his head with an amused smile. “No, it’s a loadstone; and a very strong one at that.” Raga looked puzzled. “What? You haven’t sucked a demon into one before?”

“Not in recent memory, if ever. Which takes me back to my previous questioning, if you loathe magic so much, how do you know these things?” Raga asked.

“Standing guard in various courts, trading tales along caravan routes, books—”

“Books? You can read?”

“Yes, quite well actually, and write. I told you, I was raised in the king’s household and we were all sent to school at one point in time or another to be classmates with his only daughter,” Eris said. “What’s so funny?”

“I can just imagine you fuming at getting your knuckles rapped,” Raga said with a chuckle. “And I also suspect that if the princess was truly the smarter for the week, it was the first and last time with you. When did you study, in the wee hours of the morning when no one was looking?”

Eris smiled and lifted the cup to his mouth with better success.

“Sometimes, but mostly when my grandmother was baking; no studying, no treats. It was unfair to a growing boy. But anyway, I’ve also discovered in my few years of travel, that I have a talent for languages. Most people never expect someone like me, a foreign mercenary, to understand any of their words beyond guard, sleep here and kill.”

“I’m beginning to understand why Tas-Moren said to never underestimate you,” Raga mused, thinking back to his conversation with the god.

“Tas-Moren? You talked to him?” Eris asked not quite sure how to feel about that. He glanced to the darkness outside Raga’s fire-lit cave and wondered what sort of creatures roamed the Vale in the night.