The Emerald Dragon (The Lost Ancients Book 3) (21 page)

Chapter Thirty-Six

It wasn’t a big rumble, not compared to the ones back in Beccia. However, I couldn’t be blamed for thinking of those, and their earth-caving outcomes, when I squeaked and jumped off the wagon stair.

I looked around quickly to see if anything collapsed, or even if anyone had seen me. No one seemed to have noticed the shake, or my reaction. Considering that I was pretty sure the shaking was connected to the rakasa somehow, this did not make me happy. I hadn’t noticed any shaking in the last three weeks, but we had been going through a large mountain chain—they could have been following us the entire time.

I shuddered at that cheery thought and continued into the wagon.

Covey and Orenda were already inside and had dressed into more appropriate digger-wear. Or what Locksead had determined was more appropriate. I normally wore simple clothes on a dig, not unlike what I might wear around town.

Locksead had decided that even though both Harlan and I were diggers, we clearly didn’t know what the fashionable diggers were wearing. He’d managed to get an entire trunk load of clothing a fashion maven might wear out on an exotic trip through a garden. The boots were fine, but I usually wore them, so I’d convinced Locksead to let me keep my own. The problem started with the pants. Huge, billowing things that tucked into the boots and poofed out about a foot away from my legs. Then tight, long-sleeved shirts that were fitted with a belt. They were bright and obnoxious until Locksead had Cook stir them around in the dirt for an hour or so. Now they were obnoxious and nasty. And those sleeves were tight enough to cut off all circulation. The topper, literally, was the hat. No digger I knew wore a hat on a dig site. Tight, high little beasts, they had large flaps down the back. They weren’t practical, and the ruins in Beccia were so covered with monster trees the idea of a single beam of sun making it through was ridiculous. I’d drawn the line on the gloves, fancy things that looked more at home at a tea than out on a dig. I’d won that battle after explaining how my current patroness forbade gloves since there could be important relics damaged if we couldn’t feel them.

The men’s clothing wasn’t much better. Interestingly, Harlan seemed to enjoy the poufy pants and was determined his hat was going with him after this caper.

I quickly changed into the annoying garb and settled in just as the wagon started to move.

“Did either of you feel the ground shake?”

Orenda shook her head, but I didn’t know if she hadn’t felt anything, or was just not listening. She looked out the window at the wagon behind us, and judging by her face, something was going on in her thoughts.

Covey nodded. “I did. But it was so subtle I wasn’t sure.”

Covey and I spent the next fifteen minutes, bouncing along inside the wagon with Tag yelling, “Sorry” every few feet, discussing the quakes.

Orenda was suspiciously quiet and kept glancing out the back window. Finally, she turned to Covey and I. “Have either of you noticed a change in Carlon? I still don’t understand what I thought I saw in him.” She scowled at the memory, but it softened immediately and she glanced back out the window. “But he seems different today. Less scummy, if that makes sense.”

Covey and I shared a horrified look while her back was to us. Had his breaking character to tell me who he was somehow lessened his persona’s obnoxiousness? I didn’t know what, if anything,
remained in terms of a relationship between us. I had told him it was over but my heart wasn’t really onboard with the idea. However, I knew I didn’t want Orenda falling for Alric for real.

I pulled back another portion of the curtain, as if I was taking her inquiry seriously. Then I dropped the curtain and shook my head. “Not at all. If anything, he’s more despicable than before. He even tried to kiss me yesterday.”

Orenda’s face fell. “He what?”

I thought about being offended about her reaction. It said as much about what she thought of me, and someone trying to kiss me, as it did about Carlon. However, I was willing to let that slide if it helped push him completely out of her thoughts.

“Yup.” I leaned forward. “He waited until I was down one of the narrower trails, looking for firewood. Then he kissed me. Without even so much as a by-your-leave.”

Orenda was furious, then started softening, and got a dreamy look on her face. “Was it wonderful?”

Crap. I shot another quick glance to Covey who just shrugged. Alric had removed the spell he had on her. I might be pissed at him, but he was too good of a magic user to have screwed that up. And my quick glance out the back had confirmed Carlon was just as vile looking as ever. So what in the hell was happening?

I shook my head and tried to mimic the look I was sure I had on my face back when Marcos had been exposed as the Jinn triplets. Disgust and anger.

“Not at all. He was rude, disgusting, and kisses like a dead frog. I kneed him.” The fact was Alric was quite skilled at kissing and a number of other things. Had I known it was him at the time I was sure I would have enjoyed it. As it was, I’d been too freaked out at what I thought Carlon was doing to notice.

“Oh.” She briefly turned to look out her window, then pulled the curtains closed and faced Covey and I. “I could help, you know. With the training.”

For a second I thought she’d meant magic training, but then saw she was looking down at the swords and daggers.

“Since the magic is fading from my people, we’ve become good at physical fighting.” She bent down, picked up a sheathed dagger and threw it my way. “We can’t stand and fight, but if Covey doesn’t mind switching seats I can work with you on dagger sparring.”

I started to point out that Covey was already training me, but she flashed a toothy smile and switched seats. She would enjoy someone else having to listen to my whining for a bit.

“We teach this to our young ones. Even when they are unsteady on their feet, they can learn.”

I shrugged and unsheathed the dagger. It was a bit longer and skinnier than the one I usually used, but it seemed like a mate to one of the swords at her feet. Might as well do something productive on our trip, we had at least a few hours before we got to the city gates. Would have been nice if she had come out of her shell a few weeks ago.

Fifteen minutes later, I was regretting I’d agreed to this. If this was a training foisted on all of the children of Orenda’s clan, it was amazing they had anyone stay in the clan long enough to grow to adulthood. She was making my training with Covey seem lax by comparison.

The sparring consisted of a series of fancy dagger moves. Not far ranging, they covered both defensive and offensive positions. She did one run quickly. I had to admit she was impressive. Partially because the space involved was small, but also because she did it with such grace. The sureness of her moves told me that while it looked pretty, had she been facing an opponent with just her dagger, there was a good chance her opponent would lose.

I tried it a few times in slow motion with her correcting me with every move. The steps weren’t near as easy as she’d made them look. After the first few minutes, Covey got bored of watching, leaned back, and dozed.

A half hour later and I wanted to throw the dagger and Orenda out the window and take the chance that Harlan could find her on the way back out of here. My wrist hurt, my hand hurt, and I already had a few slight but still annoying scratches.

Orenda was beaming. “You’re doing well. Another few hours of continuous repetition and the muscles will do it on their own. We should be working on throwing as well, but I don’t want a blade to go out the window. Throwing a dagger is far different than throwing a knife.” She tilted her head while she watched me with narrowing eyes. “Yes, I think in between all the digging and what not, we can get quite a bit of training in. I might need to continue it after this job as well.” She clapped her hands and a shudder went through me.

I swore I heard Covey let out a snort, but her eyes stayed closed. I’d become a project.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Three hours later, Covey was laughing at me. Her eyes were still closed and she feigned sleep. I knew damn well she was laughing at me. Sleeping people didn’t jiggle around like she was.

Orenda was possibly even more determined and tenacious than Covey was. We’d only taken one break on her insane plan to turn me into a dagger maiden. That was only because my right hand had become so numb I’d dropped the dagger five out of six tries. So she switched hands.

She finally relented when we heard the sounds of more traffic as Tag led our trio of wagons down a much larger road. She’d decided that diggers shouldn’t be seen practicing with daggers. It would give the impression we were thieves.

I was so glad to have her stop that I almost cried. She was right about the muscle memory thing though. I didn’t think I could stop my fingers on either hand from twitching to repeat the moves. Was going to make holding my digger tools very interesting.

A wagon started to pull alongside us and Tag yelled for our horse to slow. I couldn’t hear what Tag said, but I heard the other driver. Alric.

“We need to make sure we act like we know what we’re doing; you might want to pull that Taryn girl up on front with you. She can answer any questions they have about credentials, and she knows what she’s doing.”

There was almost admiration in his voice. Nice to hear from Alric, not so much from Carlon. I wondered what his game was now. Then I realized it hadn’t changed—get whatever artifacts he needed and get them back home to his people. I would help him do that just by being me. Which made me believe even more that whatever else we would find here, that damn emerald dragon was here.

Tag said something else I couldn’t hear, but I knew that even though he hated Carlon, he’d listen to him. Our wagon pulled over to the side. Alric dropped his wagon back behind us again and pulled over. I was getting out when Jackal drove by.

“No waiting, you guys, we need to get there faster.” He whipped his horse and kept jogging down the trail.

Alric looked ready to yell something, then shook his head and got down off the driver’s seat. He motioned to me as he walked in front of his horse. “Let me talk to you for a second. Locksead had some last minute ideas.”

That was pure Alric, not Carlon at all. The voice, the tone, the stance. Everything. Even Tag noticed something was up and spun around to look. I waved him off and went back to Alric.

As long as I’d known him, and clearly for many years prior to that, Alric had disguised whom he was. He was good at it. When I first tried to bring him in as a bounty capture, I’d been dumped in a room of his with clothing from every walk of life. At the time, I’d figured he was a deranged collector or mad killer. However, that was his disguise collection.

So why was he dropping it so badly now? He was still holding his glamour, but barely. Because I knew what I was looking for I could almost see Alric’s features peeking out from behind Carlon’s.

“What is going on? Why are you stopping us?” I kept my voice low. We were standing directly behind the window of my wagon. I walked around him, forcing him to turn to face me so anyone looking out the window would see my face but his back. I peered closer. Even the Carlon persona wasn’t looking good. “Alric, what the hell is wrong?”

He shook his head, looking around briefly to make sure no one had come out of his wagon, or ours. “Glorinal, or what was left of him, did something to me during that fight. I can’t breathe right and I’m losing magic. It’s taking everything to keep the glamour up; killing that sceanra anam almost undid me.”

That wasn’t good. I’d hoped whatever they’d turned Glorinal into had been robbed of all magic. I looked at his chest. He was wearing the same dusty brown clothes Carlon always wore, but they seemed to fit tight across his chest. “Did he stab you?” The fabric was pulling oddly. I reached out to check, and then remembered whom I was dealing with. I waved at the odd area.

“No, I checked before.” Then a look crossed his face and for a moment, it was pure Alric looking back at me. His eyes went wide as he must have felt his glamour drop, then he shook his head and Carlon reappeared. He pulled aside a few layers of clothes. All of them had been the same drab brown so I hadn’t realized he had so many on; that was what helped Carlon look so much bulkier than Alric. The final layer looked stuck as he got to it. Then he pulled it back, wincing as it stuck to his skin.

Across his chest were three claw marks. Not deep but oozing green ichor and blood. Moreover, they looked fresh. Far too fresh for a three-week old wound.

Alric coughed and it looked like the marks went deeper.

Somehow, that thing that was Glorinal had marked him, but the injuries took weeks to show. “It’s a mark of the rakasa. They must have their spells and abilities running through Glorinal.” He studied the marks for a bit, then shook his head and wrapped himself back up.

“What are you doing? You’re fading fast, and I may be so pissed at you right now that I can’t even verbalize it, but I’d rather you didn’t die.”

The laugh that came out was Carlon, not Alric. He was fighting back against the mark, but for how long? “I’d rather I didn’t die either, but we can’t deal with this right now. Jackal was right; we do need to claim our dig site. Locksead took longer to get the wagons here than he should have. I think we’re being followed and the sooner we can get this done, the better.” He held up a hand to stop what I was about to say. “No. Right now we need to get in there, get our piece out, and anything else you find valuable. And get out of that town. I wanted to talk to you to make sure you were in agreement with the plan.” He handed me a small scroll. “Read it, but keep it with you at all times.”

With that, he turned on his heel and marched back to his wagon.

I couldn’t help but react by wanting to run forward when he almost stumbled, but I held off. I slid the scroll into my shirt. I needed to find a chance to look at it when Orenda wasn’t around. I also needed to ask Covey and Harlan if they knew what those wounds on his chest meant. Images of what Glorinal currently looked like flashed through my head, but superimposed over Alric’s face. I might kind of hate him right now, but there was no way I was going to let that happen.

I waited until Alric was back on his wagon, and looking very much like an annoyed Carlon, and then walked back to my wagon.

Tag stuck his head around. “Is everything okay? Why’d Carlon sound so weird?”

“He’s fine.” I rolled my eyes and tried to keep my real concern for Alric from showing. “He thinks he has a cold and wanted to know if I knew any quick cures. Let me get the rest of my equipment so I look more official.” I shook my head and climbed back on board the wagon. I didn’t need anything else; I wanted to let Covey know Alric was having problems.

I ducked inside to face two pairs of questioning eyes. Covey’s looked more irritated than questioning, and she was staring right where I’d put the scroll. Even though she hadn’t been able to see exactly what happened, she’d clearly seen something change hands.

“Why did Carlon want to talk to you?” Orenda was clearly not trying to sound jealous, but she wasn’t succeeding. What if Alric’s previous spell had been to break a real attachment on her part, not to break a love spell? He’d left the group to get away from her supposedly; he would have broken any spell he’d cast at that point, especially once he was sure she could hold her own against the more unscrupulous members of the gang. Therefore, that spell I saw could have been something else.

Damn, she was somehow responding to him since his glamour was fading.

“He was concerned I’d screw something up.” I shook my head and grabbed the stupid digger hat. It was next to Covey. “He was injured when he was attacked. Not doing well. Magic fading.” I’d dropped my voice to extremely low levels, letting the words out on my breath.

Covey nodded. She’d understood. Even though she was possibly even madder at Alric than I was right now, her face showed her concern.

I patted the scroll in my pocket and nodded to her, then went back outside.

Tag had moved over to give me room next to him on the driver’s bench, but we were still close. “So he’s okay?”

That was weird. Tag definitely didn’t like Carlon, yet he had real concern in his voice. Crap. What if not only was Alric’s glamour failing, but also he was unintentionally projecting some sort of magical distress? I needed to talk to Covey and Harlan, alone. Maybe by the time we got to the dig site I could separate them out from the others. Of course, even if he was projecting I had no idea how to stop it. Nor how to slow down whatever was happening to him.

“He will be, might have some broken ribs or something from that attack by those monsters a few weeks ago. He kept ignoring it but now it’s getting to him.” I glanced back but Alric was contemplating the rear end of his horse. “I’d stay clear of him as much as possible at the dig. He’s in a lot of pain and will probably be more difficult than usual.”

Keeping everyone who didn’t know who he was away from Alric was about the best I could do at this point.

Tag looked like he wanted to ask more questions but held off as we rode closer to town. It was a good thing I’d come up when I did. Jackal was at a gate arguing with some very irate city guards. Some very irate syclarion city guards.