Cloak & Dagger: Book II of The Dragon Mage Trilogy (12 page)

Kazin had experienced this sort of thing before, but was awed just the same. The command the druids had over nature was something to behold.

The druid and mage continued uphill, wending their way around rocky formations and through a dense jungle that didn’t impede them in the least. Around a final bend, the trees stepped aside to reveal what Kazin immediately recognized to be the Tower of the Moon.

The Tower of the Moon was cylinder shaped, with slitted windows at various locations all the way up the side. Vines grew up the walls, but amazingly grew around colourful flower arrangements that lined the windows. The vines were so thick that one could hardly see the stone walls beneath. The roof, with crumbling turrets, gave one an indication of the tower’s age. It was then that Kazin came to a strange realization. It was not the walls that held up the vines; it was the vines that held up the walls!

Martha led the mage to a set of enormous wooden doors that swung inward of their own accord, swinging silently on shiny brass hinges.

Kazin followed Martha down a short hallway and looked into a room on his left with an open doorway. What he saw caused him to stumble and he bumped into Martha, who was directly ahead of him. He steadied himself and looked into the room again as the druid turned around.

In the room were several cots, and each contained a mermaid. Unlike the mermaids in the lagoon, these mermaids were not smiling enticingly and beckoning. Most of them were asleep, but those who were awake were coughing and shivering and some of them were varying shades of orange or yellow. One mermaid turned to the doorway and saw Kazin. She instinctively tried to smile but a sudden pain caused her to grimace and turn away in shame.

“What -?” began Kazin. He was unable to complete the sentence.

“Oh, dear,” moaned Martha. “You weren’t supposed to see this yet.” She put her arms around the mage and directed him to another room at the end of the hallway.

The room had comfortable chairs and a cozy fireplace. Covering the floor was a lush, lavender carpet. The walls were adorned with paintings and banners depicting scenes of dragon battles that happened a few hundred years ago. The paintings were similar to the ones hanging in the Tower of the Stars. A large painting seemed to have pre-eminence over the others, hanging by itself over the fireplace. This particular painting illustrated an old mage with a long white beard who battled a fierce looking dark object. The determined eyes and clenched jaws of the mage was a testament to the power of the spell being cast. It sent a shiver down Kazin’s spine.

“I’ll go and fetch Adriana,” stated Martha.

“No need,” said a serious voice behind them. In the doorway stood Adriana. She was taller and more slender than Martha, and her countenance was serious. Her sharp nose and shrewd gaze gave the appearance of someone to be reckoned with.

“Hello, Adriana,” said Kazin lightly. “It’s good to see you are well.”

Adriana gave a stiff nod of her head. “Welcome. We have been waiting for your arrival. You must assist us immediately for there is a plague that has been unleashed upon us with dire consequences for all life in the world.” She paused to let the words sink in, and then continued. “Amelia gave me her dying instructions to summon you when this situation should arise.” With some distaste she added, “She knew it was going to happen, too.”

Martha knew Adriana didn’t particularly like Amelia, who was an oracle as well as a druid, but chose not to bring up the subject, knowing that Adriana was upset about the current plague situation.

“Tell me what you need me to do,” said Kazin seriously. “I will do whatever is in my power to help.”

“Let us hope that is enough,” Adriana answered, looking distractedly above and past Kazin as she spoke. “Follow me.” She turned and left the room with Martha right behind her.

Kazin was the last to leave the room, but he paused to look where he had been standing. What was Adriana looking at a moment ago? The only thing she could have been looking at was the painting of the wizened old mage.

Something about the mage’s face seemed familiar. What was it? Then a realization struck the young mage. The hair on his neck stood on end. It couldn’t be, could it? He shook his head and hastened after the druids. He had more important things to attend to right now.

Chapter 10

V
era wandered the winding trail carefully, taking care to avoid washed out areas. The path was not well used, and certainly not maintained. Indeed, there was no reason. Few people if any had traveled this route in a long time. The only reason she chose this path was its proximity to the last of the paralyzed people that Cyril had left behind. Fortunately, none of the cyclops’ victims were seriously paralyzed like the gardener. Vera patiently unparalyzed each of them as she encountered them, apologizing for the cyclops’ actions. Most were ungrateful and cursed the cyclops for his unprovoked assault. This saddened Vera, but not as much as the sickness and disease the villagers were experiencing. The further north she went, the worse the conditions were.

Walking along one section of the trail Vera counted as many as twenty heads of cattle which had perished. Others lived, but looked like they were near death themselves. Even farmers and their families were ill. On more than one occasion Vera was hailed by distraught people who saw her as a potential cure for their suffering families.

At first, the cleric was pleased to offer her services, confident that she could help. But one failure after another had caused her to question her clerical abilities. She had helped numerous people in the Tower of Hope, with moderate to exceptional success each time. But now on her own, she was unable to help the suffering of a single person.

Some desperate villagers, seeing her lack of success, went so far as to call her a fraud, angrily sending Vera from their houses and slamming their doors behind her.

Vera was uncharacteristically demoralized by the actions of these people. She blindly followed the trail of paralyzed people, tears blurring her vision. Despite her despair, she still stopped to un-paralyze Cyril’s victims, but no longer gave an explanation, preferring to continue on her journey without communicating with anyone. She stopped only occasionally to check abandoned wells to see if the water was pure. Many wells were still free from contamination, but Vera was not one to take chances. She tried to inform villagers that their water was impure, but they chose to ignore her.

The last well Vera visited was still pure and she filled her water skins completely, not certain when she would encounter fresh water again. The cleric’s other supplies were adequate for many days; she had stocked her pack thoroughly in a community near the tower.

With the Old Dwarven Mountains before her, Vera realized where Cyril had gone. The seclusion of the mountains was a logical place for him to go. There were no more paralyzed people to lead her now, since human settlements were all behind her. She had to pursue the cyclops with intuition and guesswork. The odd, freshly snapped twig on the path indicated the recent presence of a large traveler, and Vera could only hope that it had been Cyril.

Over an hour on the trail brought the cleric to an area that had recently been used as a campsite. Still smoldering ashes blew loosely in the breeze. The smell of some sort of meat still lingered in the air.

The cleric was about to continue on her way when she noticed some markings on the ground near the fire pit out of the corner of her eye. She bent closer to examine the markings. A circle had been drawn with an oval within its confines. A couple of hastily drawn lines bisected the circle and its oval. Vera scratched her head and was about to put the matter aside as nothing important when an idea occurred to her. She checked the markings again and immediately realized what the symbol was all about. The circle was a representation of a head and the oval was the eye. Cyril had probably drawn it! His anger with his disability had probably made him scribble it out, explaining the haphazard lines through the eye!

Excited, Vera stood up straight. The cyclops was not far ahead! She had to catch him before he entered the mountains. With renewed vigor, Vera half stumbled and half ran toward the mountains.

Almost immediately, the cleric reached the base of the mountains. Large boulders and rubble from high above littered the area. Looking up, Vera saw an array of sheer cliffs and rocky outcrops. She suddenly felt very small standing next to the Old Dwarven Mountains.

The cleric experienced a moment of despair as she surveyed the scene before her. Where did Cyril go? Did he climb up the mountain, or did he walk along the base to find a better location to climb up? How far ahead of her was he? It was starting to get late and the cleric had come a long way only to experience a warm trail go instantly cold.

As if in response to her thoughts, a momentary flash of setting sunlight reflected off something on the mountain face above her. Vera squinted her eyes and spotted the source of the light. It was Cyril! The sunlight had reflected off his smooth, bald head!

Vera cried out to the cyclops as loud as she could, but the cyclops continued to climb, unaware of her presence. He didn’t hear her! The cleric watched helplessly as the cyclops climbed over some large boulders and sprang nimbly into a dark opening. He had just entered a cave!

“No!” cried Vera. She thought momentarily of her budding career in the Tower of Hope and then remembered her failures since leaving there. She also thought about her close friendship with Cyril and the suffering he was going through. The tower didn’t need a cleric who couldn’t heal people, but Cyril needed a friend. Vera was not about to abandon him.

Her fear and despair were suddenly transformed into determination and courage. She boldly climbed past the first few boulders and began her ascent, using her pure white staff for support. No mountain was going to stop her from finding Cyril. She might have failed the sick villagers, but she was not going to fail her friend. Vera vowed to find Cyril at all costs. Her sense of honour demanded it. If she let her friends down, she could not rightfully stand with her fellow clerics to help total strangers either.

* * * * *

Unaware of Vera’s presence below, Cyril stepped into the tunnel, huffing and puffing from the exertion required to reach this location. He paused to catch his breath and peered into the gloomy tunnel, his lone eye quickly adjusting to the dark interior. He had half expected to enter a tunnel with sharp corners and narrow gaps, but instead was surprised to see a tall, wide passageway stretching in a straight line for quite some distance before him. The sound of the wind whipping past the entrance was amplified down the entire length of the tunnel. Eerie though it was, Cyril felt at home here.

The cyclops’ stomach growled, reminding him of the tasty rabbits he had recently eaten. The rabbits were easily caught; he simply paralyzed them and captured them alive. He still had a few left in his pack, and they would keep indefinitely, since they were still alive. They would simply remain paralyzed until they were needed.

Cyril hoisted his makeshift spiked wooden club over his shoulder and began his trek down the tunnel. It was time to go exploring. His eye quickly adjusted to the gloomier surroundings as he rounded the first bend, and the tunnel’s lit entrance disappeared from sight. The stony walls were cold and hard, but gave the cyclops plenty of room to maneuver. Worn cracks in the lumpy floor informed Cyril that this tunnel had been here for a long time. Many feet had undoubtedly traveled along here in the past, and many more would surely follow.

The cyclops wandered for some time and encountered a number of forks in the tunnel as he went. Each time, he chose the fork that he figured led deeper into the mountain. He was surprised he could determine his direction so easily. Somehow he sensed which way led to the outside world. Cyril wondered if perhaps his cyclops half had that instinct built in.

On the cyclops trudged, blissfully unaware of the unseen eyes that followed him. He must have been going in the wrong direction, because the owners of the watching eyes suddenly began closing in on him. They ran quickly, their short legs gaining ground rapidly. Their eyes glittered and their teeth flickered in the dim light of the tunnel. Weapons in their hands also glittered wickedly, a symbol of their evil intentions.

Cyril finally heard the panting of his pursuers and turned, surprised.

The followers were expecting Cyril to turn, and suddenly yelled a war cry, charging the hapless cyclops.

Unfortunately, a war cry was all the pursuers could manage. Too late, each of them realized what they were chasing. The war cry ended as abruptly as it had begun, as each of them tumbled to the ground like dominoes.

In the silence that followed, one could have heard a pin drop. Cyril looked at his would-be attackers with a raised eyebrow. Their large, pointed ears and greenish skin, combined with their distinct smell, identified them as goblins.

Cyril gave a half a grin at what had just happened. For once he didn’t have to feel guilty about his curse. He could paralyze all types of creatures in the mountains and it wouldn’t matter. Nevertheless, he knew he was still vulnerable, particularly when he slept. The cyclops shrugged. He would just have to sleep with one eye open. About to continue on his way, he paused when he realized the implications of that thought. A cyclops sleeping with one eye open! For possibly the first time in his life, the cyclops laughed. The low sound emanated from his chest and vibrated up to his mouth with a sound between a roar and a hiss. His chest heaved as he laughed. Anyone listening would never guess it was a laugh.

Shaking his head, Cyril left the paralyzed goblins behind. They would undoubtedly come to eventually, but he didn’t care. He could kill them, but that was not his way.

A few hours later, he entered a cavern littered with bones. The bones were strewn about, and it took Cyril a few moments to determine that the bones mostly belonged to orcs and a few ogres. Orcs were similar to their cousins, the goblins, except they were larger, larger even than humans. They had large teeth in their lower jaws which protruded from the corners of their mouths and pointed upward. Their skin was the same green color of goblins but their ears were shorter. Their bones were more curved than that of humans, and that was the clue that told Cyril who they were.