Omensent: Wrath of a Dragon God (40 page)

"I think your little demonstration was
sufficient enough to discourage any further violence or disrespect." Jarom told him, his expression one of approval.

"It also gave them a pointed lesson in common courtesy." Jacom added with a grin. "Those men will never act that
discourteous towards a stranger again!"

They set
off once again at a quick trot, using the light of the moon to guide their way. Finally, it grew too dark to travel safely, so they located a small clearing not far from the road and set up camp for the night, not wanting to chance on missing where the trail rejoined the trade route.

They settled down around their campfire, and Jarom took a slab of bacon from their supplies and began setting the thin strips of pork in a pan. He placed the pan over the fire
, then began slicing pieces from a large loaf of bread.

When they finished eating,
Sly rummaged around in one of the packs and withdrew a wineskin. He pulled the stopper with his teeth, and took a long drink.

"More dragon's milk?" Jacom asked, his tone disapproving.

"We had thought you had learned your lesson the first time around." Jarom added with a frown.

"It's just elven wine." Sly burped, re
placing the stopper and tossing the wineskin to one of the twins. "I picked it up back in the village."

"So tell us," Jarom started, taking a long drink from the wineskin, then passing it to his brother. "How long have you known Damion?"

"Since he was just a young boy." The little man told them with a yawn. "I was hired to help train him in the art of combat. Of course, by that time, he was already almost as big as a normal man, even though he was only six or so."

"He isn't like the rest of us, is he?" Jacom murmured thoughtfully. "Has he always looked that way, or was it a result of his magic?"

"He was born with his brow scales." Sly told them. "His mother was attacked by dragonspawn while Damion was still in the womb. She survived long enough to give birth to him, but their attack left its mark upon him. That's the reason for his huge size and strange appearance. It also imbued him with the blood of dragons." The little man's eyes grew distant. "Damion is unlike any other man alive. He was blessed, or cursed, with more power and abilities than any other mortal that has ever lived."

"If he's so powerful," Jacom asked skeptically. "then why hasn't he used that power to try to
conquer the world, like every other powerful sorcerer has?"

"He also has the Dragon Sword, and the entire race of dragons to do his bidding."
Jarom added, his expression just ask skeptical as his brother's. "Why hasn't he attempted to establish himself as ruler of the world?"

Sly snorted in amusement. "He doesn't want to rule the world. I don't think he really even wants to
be the Lord of Sevria. He definitely never wanted to be the Dragon Lord." The little man looked at the twins seriously. "The only thing that Damion has ever wanted is to be loved and respected by those around him. He has a huge heart, and an enormous sense of responsibility. He worries after every single person under his protection. I wouldn't be surprised to find out that he knows every single citizen of Sevria by their first name."

"The more we learn about him," Jarom
started, glancing at his brother. "the more we realize that there is much more to Damion that the stories about him suggest."

"He is certainly one worthy of respect and admiration." Jacom agreed, leaning back on his bedroll. "All of the stories and legends we have heard claim that it's only a matter of time before he his scarlet
dragons, and his shadow beasts will begin a campaign of destruction."

Sly snorted in amusement once again. "That's the furthest thing from Damion's mind, I can assure you. Besides, he doesn't even have any
control over the shadow dragons."

The twins blinked in surprise.

"The Dragon Sword only controls the scarlet dragons." The little man explained, taking the wineskin from Jacom and taking another long drink. "It holds no power over the shadow beasts. No one even
knew
of the existence of the shadow dragons until they began wreaking havoc. They had been banished from the world by the scarlet dragons thousands of years ago, before humans even emerged from their caves. They were released back into the world when Damion released the scarlet dragons from their imprisonment within the Dragon Gem." He shook his head. "The guilt he felt when he learned that he was responsible for the shadow dragons reemergence was almost unbearable for him. As soon as he learned of their existence, he set off to exterminate them, all of them, and put an end to their scourge once and for all."

"And did he accomplish his goal?" The twins asked in unison, entranced by the scruffy little man's story.

"He sure whittled down their numbers," Sly laughed. "with the help of the scarlet dragons, of course. He somehow managed to track down the brood mother, and he and the scarlet dragons destroyed almost all of them. A few
did
manage to get away, but they have all gone underground to avoid being slaughtered. With their brood mother dead, they won't be causing anymore problems." He took another drink from the wineskin, then tossed it back to the twins, and settled back in his bedroll. "Aye, Damion is unlike any other man alive. Unlimited power, unlimited compassion, and a sense of decency that I have found in no other man in all of my travels. The world is lucky to have him, because if the Dragon sword had fallen into other hands," He shuddered.

"With all of his power," Jacom asked in confusion. "Why doesn't he just, well, you know," The knight wiggled his fingers in what was supposed to be a magical gesture.

"Why can't he just use his magic to rescue his daughter?" Jarom agreed, mimicking his brother's gesture.

Sly shook his head. "From what I understand, it's not that simple. Besides, it's not really much of an advantage to be able to use magic, when your opposition can use it too." He yawned, then set his head back against one of their packs. "But rest assured, gentlemen
, when the time comes, Damion will release hell upon this witch, and when he does," He chuckled. "I don't think there is a god in existence that will be able to save her."

Chapter
15

"There appears to be an old woman resting at the
edge of the trail just ahead."
Snowfeather informed Damion, dropping down from the sky to gently settle on the huge warrior's shoulder.

They had been moving as quickly as they could through the rough countryside since dawn, guiding their horses along the twisting and turning trail
as fast as they dared in the hopes of gaining as much ground as possible.

"
Did you see any sign of the trade road?"

"Nay. The trail appears to continue for several more miles, at least."
The huge owl hooted, carefully rearranging several of his feathers.
"I didn't see any sign of anything other than the old woman."

"Why don't you fly on ahead and see if you can
locate the trade road."
He suggested after a moment's thought.
"We'll go check this old woman out."

"Be cautious."
Snowfeather chirped in warning, launching himself back into the air.
"I got the distinct impression that there was something odd about her."

The huge warrior frowned.

Noticing his expression, Raven nudged her horse along side of Storm. "What is it? What has Snowfeather found?"

"There appears to be an elderly woman
resting at the side of the trail just ahead."

"An old woman?" Damarius exclaimed in surprise. "What's an old woman doing out here in the middle of nowhere?"

"I don't know." The huge warrior shrugged. "Let's go ask her."

They pressed on, follow
ing the trail through the untamed countryside for another half mile, then the wooded and rocky terrain abruptly opened into a small, isolated grassy clearing that bordered a tiny pond.

Resting with her back against an gnarled old willow tree sat a woman whose face was so weathered and wrinkled that it was impossible to discern her exact age. Her hair was white, having lost all color years before, and was fixed in a tight bun that she wore on one side of her head. Her long dress had been crafted from
a soft satin, and was trimmed in a soft silver fur.

"Be careful!" Damarius hissed in a barely audible tone. "There's something that's not quite... normal about this old woman."

The elderly woman watched with bright eyes as they approached, and smiled as they slowed to a stop. "Greetings, friends." She said in a surprisingly youthful voice. "Come, rest yourselves and your horses." She rose to her feet and brushed her dress clean fussily. "I have been waiting for you for quite some time."

"Who is she?" Raven whispered to Damion as they slid down from their horses. "Someone sent by the witch to try and stop us?"

"Of course not, my dear girl." The old woman laughed, obviously overhearing her whispered words. "I have come here upon the request of another."

Damion, Raven, and Damarius exchanged a look, t
hen cautiously made their way over to the old woman, who watched them with amusement.

"Why so hesitant?" She mocked jovially. "You're not frightened by a harmless little old lady, now are you?"

"If you're a harmless little old lady, then I'm a butterfly." Damarius told her, watching the old crone closely.

"Who are you?" Raven asked in a uncertain voice.

"I'm known by many names. Some know me as Gwyneth of the Gods, others by Myrrill the Messenger, and still others as simply the Crone."

Damarius gasped in surprise and shock. "You? You are Gwynth
of the Gods?"

The old woman laughed. "I see you still remember the old stories,
wise one."

"Of course I do." D
amarius's face was pale. "Thousands of years before man, elf, or dwarf had emerged into this world, the gods still roamed the earth, molding and changing the land around them to suit their whims. Then they began to war amongst themselves, nearly destroying the world that they had created in the process. When they finally called a truce, the gods agreed that they would all depart for the world's sake, knowing that their war would surely destroy that which they loved so much. Furthermore, they agreed never to take a direct hand in anything that may happen in the world. They pledged to work only through intermediaries to achieve their goals."

"Very good." The old woman murmured approvingly.

"A few thousand years later, once mortals emerged to populate the world, some few gods decided that they needed go betweens to carry messages to the mortals, demanding their obedience." He looked at the old lady meaningfully. "Gwynth of the Gods was one such go between. She was said to appear as an old crone to deliver messages to those chosen to hear the words of the gods."