The White Dragon (12 page)

They slept till mid-morning and then rose again. Zokar explained that they wanted to arrive in Ulsthor after dark but before midnight when most of the inhabitants of the city retired for the night. It wasn’t that traveling late was against a Kesh law or custom, but it drew more attention to oneself when there were less travelers and other revelers to mingle with.

Well after dusk, late evening to be exact, they arrived at the northern walled gate of Ulsthor. The gates were open, and people were coming and going as a norm for the day. They encountered no resistance, questioning, or any other sort of scrutiny as they entered the largest and last city in western Kesh.

“So where to now?” Eric asked, having been to the city only a couple of times before, long ago.

“We need a safe place to stay,” Zokar answered, spurring his mount down a side street that was lit by oil lamps.

The clickity-clopping of their horses’ hooves were loud on the cobblestone streets, but the shouting of vendors hawking their wares as well as the merrymaking from those seeking entertainment that night added to the cacophony in the streets. The Balarian knew where he was going, however, and they followed him closely until he reached an inn at what was one of the foreign quarters of the city.

“Wait for me here,” Zokar said, handing his reins to Eric, dismounting and walking into the sleeping establishment, leaving the other three alone for the time being as people walked or rode by.

“You seem to be all right with all this,” Eric noted to Diamedes. Argos sat on his horse, looking around, but did not seem intent on bolting or fleeing. He seemed to know something that Eric didn’t.

Diamedes answered, “I’m used to working with Balarians.”

“You could have a king’s escort. Protection by a Fist of Astor. Why do you accept traveling with a cutthroat, an assassin, and a mercenary?” Eric asked the small man.

“Well,” Diamedes began, “it is nice to have escorts, definitely safer as well, but . . . then all my research and fact-finding will be through a tainted perspective of only the privileged. I can’t very well report history accurately if I am removed from it. This gives me a measure of reality that is necessary when scribing historical events.”

Argos finally stirred on his mount and looked at Eric. “What did the little man just say?”

“I believe he’s saying that he’s content to travel with dangerous losers like us because it’s more accurate for his writing,” Eric said, giving the raider a knowing nod.

“Ah, right,” Argos said, rolling his eyes.

“So this Balarian, Zokar, he’ll be finding us a place to stay?” Eric changed the subject.

Diamedes nodded, seeming to take no notice or offense at his two companions. “Yes, and he will find a way to get messages to Balax about current events in Ulatha as well as a means to exchange your bounty for something more useful to you.”

“You refer to the wizard’s possessions?” Eric asked.

“Yes.” Diamedes nodded. “These items are valuable, but they do you no good against what you must face. You need something more practical, though just as magical, so to speak. Do you understand?”

“I think so,” Eric said.

“I’m talking about a magical shield, like the Fist Alexi had, or an enchanted sword. Something that would make a difference in a battle with a dragon.”

“Oh yeah, that definitely explains things, but I’ve never even heard of those things before, and I’ve lived more than a few decades and been exposed to more than a few things in my lifetime,” Eric said.

“You haven’t been exposed enough,” Diamedes countered. “Most people won’t do business with the Kesh, but it can be profitable if negotiated correctly.”

“Hmm,” Eric thought out loud, and then turned to Argos, almost startling the man. “What about you, raider? Why do you stay now? You could flee into the crowded streets of a large city like this and disappear. You have connections here, no?”

“Aye,” Argos said. “I would leave you two if it was only the three of us.”

“But the Balarian compels you to stay? Does your word not count for something?” Eric asked.

“It does,” the raider began, “but honor when dead is useless. I doubt you really saw a dragon, despite what the historian says, but I do know a Balarian assassin when I see one, and if I fled, I’d be looking over my shoulder for the rest of my short life.”

Diamedes chimed in. “Yes, it wouldn’t be a very long one, nor pleasant, that’s for sure.”

“They do have a reputation, but I had no idea that it was stronger with the Kesh than the other realms,” Eric speculated.

“We work with them more often, and closer, than you Ulathans do,” Argos explained. “Therefore we understand and appreciate their abilities more than you could imagine.”

“I can imagine a great deal,” Eric stated. “This is interesting and explains a lot.”

“Take those horses there and tend to them,” Zokar told a pair of stable boys as they rounded the corner of the building. “You can dismount, though bring your belongings.”

The trio nodded, dismounting and gathering their various possessions while handing their reins to the stable boys, who looked to be in their teens. Zokar flipped a copper coin at each lad and then, motioning with his head toward the back of the establishment, he led the way as a servant held open a back door through a kitchen.

Ascending a small staircase in the back of the building, the Balarian led them to a large room, opening the first door and allowing them to pass before entering and closing it behind him. “I have two rooms next to each other. Diamedes and Eric can take this one while I take the one next door with Argos.”

The trio dropped their packs and set a few things aside that they would need, while Argos and Zokar stowed their belongings in a corner to take to their room later. “You’re not retiring for the night?” Eric asked.

Zokar shook his head. “No, we leave immediately to meet with one of my contacts. You”—he motioned to the historian—“can leave the Kesh disguise behind now. It served us to arrive here without incident, but it will only hinder us inside the city.”

“What do you want to do with these?” Diamedes held out the staff and bag with the magical orb inside.

Zokar took the items and wrapped the staff in a spare black cloak, handing it and the bag to Eric. “You take possession of these for now till we’re able to barter them.”

“Do you want me to carry them?” Diamedes asked, trying to be helpful.

“No,” Zokar said. “Losing you could start a war, and if the Kesh confront us, they would kill the person carrying these items.”

“Well, that’s comforting,” Eric said, huffing while taking the items from the Balarian. “You didn’t seem too concerned when Diamedes had the items only a few moments ago.”

“Things have changed.” Zokar opened the door again.

The group filed past and back to the street through the same back door. “What happened?” Eric asked as they gathered in the dark street.

Zokar motioned for them to follow as he led them toward the holy quarter of the city where several temples and other religious structures and monuments were located. “The Kesh know we’re here and they have changed their plans.”

“How?” Eric asked. “And what plans have changed?”

Zokar stopped his brisk walk to face him, pulling him into the shadows near an adjacent building. “They no longer need you and have placed a bounty on your head. You have been marked for death.”

“Interesting,” Amora said, returning to the edge of his magical tower where Kirost awaited him.

“News?”

Amora nodded. “It appears that I too cannot communicate with Kelee.”

“I informed you that there were issues yesterday,” Kirost said, nodding at the confirmation of what he already knew.

“Yes,” Amora began, “but you did not know that a Charm of Seeking had been placed on Kelee’s critir, did you?”

“You did that?” Kirost looked at his mentor in shock. It violated the privacy of their own kind and would not be welcome from one wizard to another.

Amora smiled, enjoying his companion’s discomfort. “You misunderstand; it was Kelee himself who suggested the charm.”

“By the Nine, why would he consent to that?”

“He had his reasons and I agreed with him, so now we know where his belongings are, and with whom as well.”

“Yet you do not know what happened to him,” Kirost said, looking away at the nearby town and allowing a frown to cross his face. He wasn’t close to his companion, but anything that could happen to one wizard could happen to another, and self-preservation mandated caution at a situation such as this.

“Correct. I do not know his fate.”

“Draconus?” Kirost asked, suddenly hopeful.

“We would like to think that it would take something as strong and powerful as one of the draconus to dispatch one of us, but in this case, with his involvement in dealing with the troublesome historian once and for all, I fear it is not so.” Amora took a moment to look his former pupil in the eye before returning his gaze to the Ulathan town.

“You have plans, then?” Kirost probed.

“I do.”

There was an awkward moment of silence as the two wizards stood on the tower’s highest level, peering from their perch above a rocky cliff at the snowy ground below them. It was a typical ritual when one wizard wished to demonstrate his superiority over another, and information was power and the withholding of such was the demonstration of power.

“Do tell what you have decided, then,” Kirost relented, wanting to know where their path would take them next.

“The ice dragon is marshaling its minions exactly as we had planned. Its attack soon on the Ulathan town, and subsequent cutting of the main northern trade road, will bring Ulatha to its knees.” Amora relished in the information, turning to face his companion so he could enjoy watching the other man’s reaction to his news.

“Go on,” Kirost said simply, anticipation in his voice.

Amora attempted to prevent a faint grin from coming over his face, but he failed. “I have contacted Angora in Ulsthor and set a bounty on our mercenary’s head. He is no longer needed to dupe the Ulathan authorities. In fact, he has passed into our lands with the full knowledge of several witnesses, and his death there will seal the suspicions of the justiciar.”

Kirost hated demonstrating his own emotions, but the shock was hard to conceal. “So much work wasted.”

“Hardly,” Amora began. “While not initially part of our plans, the death of the mercenary will still have the same effect—”

Realization dawning on Kirost, the wizard interrupted, snapping his fingers and allowing a grin to come over his face. “He will be blamed for the rise of the creature and the consequences of its involvement in the destruction of their people and town.”

“Yes, and our involvement in the matter will die with him.”

Kirost put a hand to his chin and held his head with it, thinking on the implications of their change of plans, looking for holes to poke in it. “What about the historian?”

“He will die in Kesh with the mercenary.”

“You put a mark on him?”

“Of course not,” Amora said. “That sort of action would get back to the ears of the Tynirian king, and the High-Mage would not tolerate a
premature
war. This calls for something more personal and more secret.”

Kirost understood that war was inevitable in order to implement the High-Mage’s plans, but the timing was key, as were their preparations. The Kesh planned on weakening rival realms first by stirring up the early awakening of the dragons. It served their purposes well that the belief in dragons was considered myth by most inhabitants of Agon, and that this created a certain lethargy when it came to dealing with their impending activity each transit of Dor Akun.

Only the wisest of the Kesh mages understood the true nature of dragon kind and their cycle, many having adopted the practice of ancient slumbers to extend life. The only other authority on the planet to challenge Kesh dominance, and adopt the same or similar practices, was the Order of the Arnen. They would have to be dealt with as well.

“Tynira and Ulatha are the strongest and should fall first,” Kirost stated, adding his thoughts to their conversation despite the fact that they were unsolicited by the mage.

“Perhaps you could inform the High-Mage of his strategic errors?” Amora asked sarcastically.

Kirost shook his head. “No need for that. I was simply commenting on our best course of action.”

“You simply need to follow orders right now,” Amora stated rather firmly, ensuring their chain of command remained intact and unbreakable. “At any rate, the time of needing the hapless mercenary has come to an end. His mark has been set, and we will have to handle the historian with a more personal and private touch.”

Kirost seemed to understand, nodding and asking, “Then what are our next plans?”

“The northern clans can no longer be counted on now that some of them have betrayed us and taken up with the draconus.” This was in reference to the northmen who had some clans serving the dragons, and others doing the bidding of the Kesh, depending on the clan.

“So we have no force to press them in the north?” Kirost asked.

“We do not, but the High-Mage has seen to it that the draconus will do our bidding for us in Regis. It will fall soon, and then Ulatha will be next.”

“What about the smaller baronies?”

“What about them?”

“Vulcrest, for example, sent troops to aid in the fight, though they do not know what they face in the north.” Kirost pulled his cloak tighter around him as a cold wind blew down from the mountain, reminding the men that winter never really left the highest peaks of the Felsics.

“They will be dealt with,” Amora said matter-of-factly. “The High-Mage moves his pieces into place before the great attack.”

“When will that be?” Kirost dared to ask.

“Soon,” Amora said. “In the meantime, our orders are to ensure that this ice dragon does not become a threat to Kesh.”

“Indeed, the beast’s lair is practically on our border.”

“Yes, it’s very close,” Amora explained. “There would be repercussions if the white beast attacked, say, Ulsthor instead of Ulathan lands.”

Kirost nodded in agreement. “That would be most uncomfortable for you to explain.”

Amora looked at the man. “For
us
to explain.”

“Yes,” Kirost corrected himself, “for us to explain.”

Amora nodded, content at the proper wording of his former apprentice. “Good. So now we call for our own reinforcements to ensure the Ulathans don’t succeed in their quest to kill the dragon.”

“Or that the dragon doesn’t succeed in its quest to kill the Ulathans,” Kirost said.

“Correct again,” Amora said. “Neither side can prevail.”

“Only our side,” Kirost said, feeling content at their plan. “Then?”

The question was rhetorical, but Amora couldn’t help himself but to answer it. “Then we unleash war upon Agon.”

Artika watched as her forces marshaled on the great glacier in the hundreds, soon to be thousands. The winter wolves had been called from all across the interconnecting chain of mountains that was known as the Felsics. Each wolf was more than a match for a simple soldier, and a lone wolf could rip a peasant family to shreds, but it would not be the wolves that brought the most destruction to her foes. Instead, it was the ice devils that would deliver the killing blows.

There were no such things, really, as devils in Agon, or Akun, for that matter. The moniker was a rather fanciful way that the planet’s inhabitants have referred to the small water elementals that the white dragons had perverted to their own cause. Their larger brethren were rare, and only answered to the Mother herself, or the Mother’s servants, known as the Arnen. The smaller ones were half the size of a man and only a fraction the size of a full water elemental. The difference in the two was not only in size but in loyalty and form.

The smaller elementals served the draconus and were banished from their elemental home, suffering by being reduced in size and strength for their loyalty to the dragons. In form, the white dragons froze the small elementals, turning them into razor-sharp entities that could cut and kill. The appendages of an ice devil were like small swords or large daggers that could cut flesh as easily as a knife. The glacier was their home, and Artika was their mistress.

“Have your packs arrived, Fangus?” Artika asked the great white wolf at her side.

Fangus bowed his head slightly before answering. “Many arrived. Many come soon. Travel from far away.”

“Good,” Artika said, watching as the wolves and ice devils moved about the immense glacier. “Any sign of the Kesh?”

“The humans who use magic?” Fangus asked.

“Yes.”

“They near human town. We no see them, but they there.”

Artika narrowed her eyes at the alpha wolf. “You are sure?”

Fangus nodded again, explaining, “They hide, but they stink. We smell.”

“I see.” Artika opened her eyelids wider, conveying an expression of approval. The fact that the Kesh were close bothered Artika, but being able to keep some sort of track on their whereabouts seemed an appropriate compromise for her plans to succeed. “Keep me informed on their whereabouts, especially if they move.”

“Yes.” Fangus nodded for the third time, its head bobbing up and down while its tongue lolled out of its mouth through sharp fangs. “We go soon?”

It was Artika’s turn to nod her massive head in approval. “Yes, Fangus. Soon, when we have completed the gathering, we attack the human town.”

“We kill all?”

“Yes,” the white dragon confirmed. “Kill and feed.”

Both wolf and dragon welcomed the anticipation.