Offspring (The Sword of the Dragon) (54 page)

Ombre rode toward him and wiped his dirty blade on his trouser leg. “It is done, Ilfedo. I don’t think those giants will give us any more trouble. The Hemmed Land is safe.”

“How did our troops fare?”

“They did well.”

“Casualties?”

Ombre shook his head and lowered his gaze. “Yes, there were some.”

Caritha tapped him on the shoulder, and he realized that all five sisters and his daughter were standing by him. Oganna’s scarred face startled him, but he caught himself, reached out, and clutched her to himself. “It’s all right, my daughter. The wizard is dead.”

“Father, I am—I am ugly!”

Tears poured from his eyes, for he knew that it was true. “The blame rests with me.” He choked on his words. “I should not have allowed you to come here.”

“No!” another voice rumbled from the streets. “
I
am to blame.” Vectra stumbled toward him with her head lowered. Blood ran from the many wounds she’d received, and her eyes overflowed until she too wept.

Oganna broke free of her father and ran to the trembling creature. She reached out and laid her hand gently on Vectra’s snout. “It is no one’s fault, Vectra. What is done is done.” She wiped her cheeks and continued. “Though I am ashamed to show this face in public, I do not hold you or anyone else here responsible for it. Did you draw the blades across my face and mutilate me? No. You would never. Razes alone carries the blame.”

Ilfedo counted the megatraths gathering behind Vectra. Twenty-four remained out of one hundred. He shook his head. Seventy-six dead.

“Oganna, Vectra … let’s gather the dead and head home. Tonight we will camp along the border with the northern desert. There is fresh water there and space for our numbers to spread out.”

Oganna shook her head and looked at him with her blue-gold eyes. They were still as beautiful as the day she was born. “I want to stay here for a while. There is one giant in this city that deserves a proper burial, and I intend to give it to him.”

Vectra sniffled. “Indeed he does.”

He started to beckon the Warrioresses over, but she stopped him. “Please, Father, I want to do this alone—unless—unless Vectra is willing to stay with me.”

The megatrath rested a hand around Oganna’s shoulders. “I would have it no other way.” Vectra bent down, and Oganna straddled her neck. As the pair went off, Ilfedo heard Vectra command the remaining megatraths to follow his orders and leave her behind.

He organized his troops and the megatraths into bands to collect the dead. Using material from the demolished buildings, they constructed large sleds, then they laid the dead on them and hauled them toward the desert. Ombre sent messengers ahead of them to the Hemmed Land and to Resgeria to both report the battle’s outcome and to bring more manpower.

Within two days reinforcements came and the last of the dead were hauled out of Netroth. Ilfedo mounted his Evenshadow and rode out of the valley. Only once did he stop to look back. The mighty citadel, where he had last spotted his daughter and the megatrath, stood as a grim reminder to him that all great things that have a beginning also have an end.

He wheeled the Evenshadow stallion and rode after his army. Maybe during this time alone Oganna would find peace with her new condition and realize that the love of those around her did not depend on her physical appearance. He had survived, and so had she. What more could he ask for?

“Die, Xavion! Why can’t you just die?”

The traitor and his captain battled in one of the city’s larger remaining buildings. Twilight lengthened and deepened the shadows. A warm wind whistled through the rafters.

Specter smiled as Auron stabbed at him again with the wizard staff. “That staff can only rejuvenate you for so long.” He cut the ancient traitor’s leg, and Auron fell back, touched his staff to the wound, and it healed—but much more slowly than it had a day ago. “You see? While your dark powers falter, I remain unchanged. While you grow desperate, I grow confident. You should have learned from me all those years ago instead of betraying me.” He grabbed the chain mail headdress and yanked it off Auron’s head, throwing it ten feet away.

Auron sneered and looked back up at him. “I didn’t want to be someone’s servant!”

“Ha! Everyone is a servant. We only choose what master to serve. And we know why we are both here, at this place, now.” He spun, and the blade of his scythe slipped behind Auron’s legs and cut them behind the knees. With a cry the traitor collapsed. Specter knelt beside him. “You chose your master, and I chose mine, and now we must each face the consequences.”

“No. No, this cannot be. Letrias promised.”

Specter stood and pressed his scythe blade against the man’s throat. Then he kicked the staff out of Auron’s hand. “I am a more honorable man than you, my fallen apprentice. I remember that you used to care for righteousness. It was not all an act. And for that reason I am going to show you mercy today.”

He grabbed the man’s neck and pulled him bodily off the floor, holding him there with his feet dangling in the air. “Consider whom you serve and choose wisely, for the next time we meet in this way, I will come as the specter of death and your judge.”

Specter dropped the man to the floor. He pulled the hood over his head and faded into invisibility. Auron wept and wiped at his bloody nose, then he whispered. “If only I knew that repentance could bring me forgiveness, then I would.” He frowned, jumped for his staff and broke it across his knee.

A pulse of energy shot down the broken sorcerer’s tool, exploding through Auron’s leg. The traitor grabbed his leg and screamed and wept.

Specter grasped a fallen beam and hung his head. And he let a tear slip down his face. For there, not twenty feet away, groaned a man he had once loved as a brother and treated as a son. But maybe this time mercy would pave the way to repentance. Maybe a traitor who betrayed his new master could resurrect to new life.

Turning, he stepped down onto the street and knelt with hands folded. “Send thy prophet, my Maker. I pray.”

V
ectra motioned for Oganna to come closer to the wall of stone as she threw her weight against it. The stones grated, and the hidden door opened inward to reveal a dark corridor beyond. Oganna stepped inside as Vectra closed the door behind them.

“Vectra, do you see any torches in here?”

The megatrath grunted. “It’s pitch black. I can’t see anything.”

Oganna drew Avenger and let the silver robes adorn her sore, scarred body. The air smelled stale, and the light from her weapon showed thick cobwebs on the walls. It had taken two days of searching for them to find this place. It had been cleverly concealed in one of the buildings around Ar’lenon by a false wall in what appeared to be a distinguished home.

“This place looks as though it could use a good cleaning.” She ran her finger along the grimy wall. “I wonder why the giants didn’t maintain it.”

Vectra grunted again as they entered a large, square room decorated with runes and carvings. A long, flat stone table adorned the room’s center. Gently she laid the linen-wrapped body of the brave giant king onto the tabletop. Next she heaved aside a blank square stone from the front of one of the tomb’s many recessed chambers. Behind the stone lay a hole large and long enough for the body.

“Here, Princess, the epitaph has not been written.” She leaned the stone against the table.

An oversized chisel and a hammer rested in one of the walls. Oganna fetched them to the blank stone slab standing as high as her head. The giants’ tools were almost too big for her to manipulate, but she chipped away at the stone for the next few hours until she had engraved the words she wanted:

Here lies Gabel, King of Burloi
In life he was magnificent
In death he was immortalized
In memory he will be loved
Our friend, may you rest here in peace,
Undisturbed, until the eternal God claims this world.

“It is a fitting monument for a brave man.” Vectra scraped her claws on the floor. “Now, let us put him to rest.” She slid the wrapped body—feet first—into its chamber, and then reached to a pack tied on her back and set it on the floor.

Oganna opened it and pulled out a rich purple cloth. This she laid over Gabel’s body, then drew out his cumbersome sword. She had spent the better part of three hours cleaning it the other day when she had found it, and now the blade and handle shone as if new.

Vectra accepted the weapon from Oganna. Balancing its blade in her claws, the megatrath rested it lengthwise on the purple cloth.

Oganna reached into the pack for one final item: the giant’s silver crown. “He said he was
king
of Burloi,” she whispered. “No king should be buried without his crown.” As she lifted the crown onto the king’s chest, the diamond augmented the light flowing from her sword.

Vectra heaved the heavy tombstone with Oganna’s epitaph in front of the chamber, sealing it against prying eyes. Oganna melted the seams together with Avenger’s fire.

She knelt on the floor, and Vectra followed her example. They remained like this for a long while, paid their respect to the dead, then rose to go. Oganna glanced around the tomb, noting the other stones along its walls. She pulled her cipher from her pocket and translated several of the ancient writings. “Vectra, am I getting this right? Most of it is gibberish to me.”

“That’s because most of the things written on these stones are names and titles.”

Oganna put away her cipher and walked out with Vectra. The creature closed the secret door behind them and together they built a false wall out of the rubble to conceal it from any future explorers. Oganna, now that she stood in the light of day again, veiled her face with a white cloth and walked in silence up the ramp to Ar’lenon. She paused for a moment to admire the colors of the sky as Yimshi set toward the west.

Tomorrow she and the megatrath would start the return journey to the Hemmed Land. Oh how she dreaded what people would think when they looked at her. Would they keep their distance and avert their eyes, or would they gape and stare until she was embarrassed to tears? The ‘hideous freak,’ that’s what they might call her. A freak! She scolded herself for wallowing in self-pity and reminded herself that she still had much to be grateful for. But though she tried to convince herself otherwise, she knew that her scars would forever change her.

That night Oganna watched Vectra lie beside the enormous fireplace in the main chamber. Neneila coiled next to the creature. It seemed the two had bonded. The megatrath closed its eyes and breathed deeply and slowly.

Oganna rose from the fireplace and wandered one last time up the steps to the observation deck of Ar’lenon Citadel. There she screamed out her pain to the sky. There she cried anew for her brave martyr Gabel—he was but one of many that had died in her defense, but he had done so without a hint of regret. Evil had risen and claimed the life of a noble king.

“Why did this have to happen?” She leaned back against the roof and covered her face with her hands, but as soon as she touched her scarred self, she ripped the veil from her face and threw it off the platform.

In that moment the clouds flashed with white light and, looking up, she saw great wings spread in the sky. Albino descended upon the citadel and settled on its pinnacle. His claws gripped the roof’s steep surface and held him with seeming ease in spite of his great size. His pink eyes glinted as they gazed into hers, as if seeing through the flesh to search her soul.