Dragons of Destiny Page 10

  Chapter 9

  We’re already too late! Kable’s master’s voice announced inside his mind.

  Kable never could understand how his master was able to speak to him just by using his brain, but it wasn’t up to Kable to figure those kinds of things out. Leldric Veus was a mighty Zedd’Kaul Caster, and Kable was just a Roan, a hulk that was meant to protect his Zedd’Kaul master at all cost. Nothing more, nothing less.

  The Oath made sure of that. Nothing more, nothing less. Kable had long ago given up trying to understand Casters. They could do impossible things, and Kable could bend a man in two. That was the way of the world.

  Kable growled to himself, cracked his mammoth knuckles, and went sprinting towards the alley across the street where his master had disappeared into. He got really nervous when Master Veus was out of his sight. Kable wiped the sweat from his brow as he ran. The awful heat and humidity always distracted him, and his master was always yelling at him because he couldn‘t ever concentrate.

  They’d been waiting on this dank and sweltering street corner all afternoon, waiting for a sign of that blasted Lurk his master was so desperate to find.

  Lurks were doppelgangers. Kable had no clue how he was to spot a man who could change what he looked like on a whim in the middle of a city like Mayora, but he didn’t ask questions. His master wanted him dead, so Kable would break him. Simple as that.

  When he asked Master Veus how he was to know what the Lurk look liked, Master Veus had said, “Because he has the stench of the Circle of Seven all over him.”

  He still wasn’t sure what that meant.

  As Kable rumbled into the alley, he spotted his master with his hood drawn back, revealing his short platinum hair and stern face. He still appeared immaculate in his Caster garb, even as he knelt down amongst the refuse and filth of the putrid-smelling alley to inspect a corpse.

  As Kable approached Master Veus, the Caster caught his eyes with his piercing, diamond-eyed stare and held up a hand, forestalling any questions Kable might have. He’d been punished many times for asking questions out of turn, so he stayed quiet, trying his best not to tremble from intimidation under his master’s scrutiny.

  The corpse was a man in fine clothing, too fine for the Veyor district where they currently were. This was a part of Mayora that was seedy at best. No one of repute would be found in this place; Master Veus had said so himself. The dead man had shoulder-length charcoal hair and wore fancy silks of teal and purple showing dried blood from over a dozen puncture wounds on his torso.

  Leldric turned his attention back to the man, and Kable took up a spot nearby where he could keep an eye on his master as well as the mouth of the alleyway. A stunning magenta glow surrounded Leldric as he spread his hands above the man’s head, and Kable’s eyes grew wide. He knew he should be watching for danger, but he was fixated as his master’s hands began to coax forth what looked like a sickly green fog from the man’s death stare.

  His master gathered the strange mist into a sphere that hovered over his opened left palm. He gracefully regained his footing and pulled his hood back over his head despite the intense heat and humidity of the afternoon. Kable never could tell, but by the way the Caster never sweated, he suspected his master was impervious to temperature.

  Leldric approached him with a look of revulsion on his face. “Now that this distasteful business is complete..” he muttered, trailing off.

  He brushed his robes off and handed the sphere to Kable. It felt cold and wet in his hands, almost slimy to the touch. Kable shuddered slightly at the feel of the strange magic in his hands. Seeing his master perform magic was one thing, but handling something magical made his stomach twist into a knot.

  “It would have been far easier to extract this while the man was still alive,” Leldric explained, “but it appears we were a few hours too late for that. Nonetheless, with this we’ll be able to relive this man’s last memories. If my assumptions about him are correct, they will be able to confirm our quarry’s current form. You will eat the entire sphere, Kable. After you have consumed every bite, you will feel yourself being drawn into the dead man’s soul. Whatever you do, do not fight it! I will be reliving his last few moments on this plain of existence through your eyes. If you fight it, the memory will become fragmented, and it will be useless to me. Do you understand?”

  Kable nodded uncertainly, but didn’t voice his displeasure or confusions at the prospect of eating a man’s last memory. He was far too wary of incurring his master’s wrath to object openly.

  The Roan dwarfed all humans. Despite being brutally strong and a full three feet taller than Leldric, he was no match for a Zedd’Kaul’s power. That was why the Roan had been enslaved with such ease. Kable had been born into a race of the most feared warriors to ever exist, but they had been no match for an entire race of Casters.

  He quickly devoured the sphere. Before he could ask if he had done the task correctly, the sun seemed to turn off, and the world went completely black. Kable felt as though he was being crushed by a tidal wave. The mist shot directly into his lungs, and he couldn’t breathe as a terrible weight settled upon his chest. His lungs screamed in protest as the foreign magic filled them to capacity. He tried to cry out, but his senses were no longer his own. A bundle of emotions that he couldn’t explain burst into his skull. The terror and terrible anxiety that flooded into him were almost as bad as the overwhelming sensation that he was drowning.

  I told you not to fight it! Relax, I will protect you while you are in the domain of his soul.

  Kable relaxed slightly, and a wave of euphoria began to take the place of the dread and sense of being swept away. Vibrant colors of every hue mushroomed into his vision, swirling together for what seemed like ages without rhyme or reason. Kable lost his sense of self. Euphoria and nothingness were one and the same now.

  After floating along in the abyss of the dead man’s soul for what seemed like an eternity, broken images started to form. A crowded tavern… A greasy meal consisting of some heavily seasoned red meat… A magnitude of scantily clad tavern girls…. Multiple glasses of wine…. Stumbling out to a dimly lit alley to empty a full bladder…. A hooded figure stepping into the moonlight of the alley…. A hooked dagger catching the moonlight…. A struggle for the dagger…. Blood… My blood?….. A young man standing over a fallen figure with wild red hair and freckles…. The Lurk!

  Kable opened his eyes and was shocked to find himself on his knees in the same alley with the sun practically in the same place it had been when he had eaten the sphere.

  It’s been years since then, hasn’t it?

  “You did very well, Kable.”

  He was exhausted, but he looked up to see a rare half smile on Leldric’s face. “I will be able to find the Lurk within the hour, I suspect.”

  He was relieved to have pleased his master, but because he was so heavily fatigued, he wasn’t sure he could stand. It was as if he had been fighting for days and days without a single moment to rest. He couldn’t let his master down, so he pulled forth the remaining bit of strength he had and raised himself unsteadily to his feet. Leldric waved a hand apathetically, and Kable’s fatigue melted away.

  “As you know, I’m unable to heal you, but your strength should be replenished at least until we complete our task. Follow me.”

  They spent the next few hours searching the Veyor district’s many taverns and whorehouses. Leldric had somehow been able to conjure the Lurk’s form using the same mist that Kable had consumed. He would summon it from his palm to show various tavern owners, or pedestrians.

  Later still, they stood on a side street near a highly frequented fighting pit. Because of the heat, Kable was starting to grow impatient. He was thinking of beating a few answers out of the dirty beggar his master was presently questioning, regardless of whether the man knew where to find the Lurk.

  Suddenly, a blonde woman from the foot traffic, dressed in a body suit made of fishnet, grabbed Leldric’s robe by the sleeve an
d drew him away from the vagrant. Kable almost smashed her pretty little face, but his master shot him a stern glare that halted him in his tracks. She whispered into Leldric’s ear for a few minutes and departed as quickly as she had appeared. Leldric waved Kable over.

  “It seems our slippery little friend has been spotted down near Garal Cove. He apparently is a regular in a tavern called Cod Guts. It’s time to find out why The Circle of Seven has sent this creature to Mayora without first getting permission from the Kaul’Celum.”

  As they journeyed to the Garal District, the sun mercifully began to sink beyond the far away ocean horizon. The perpetual heat and humidity that ravaged the city every single day was something Kable had never been able to grow accustomed to, even though he had lived his entire life in Mayora. He much preferred the cool nights the bay city offered. A pleasant breeze would soon come off the sea, and Kable would be able to finally relax and concentrate on the task at hand.

  Kable liked coming to the poorer districts of Mayora because it always reminded him of his youth. His father Doarn had raised him in Qoroz, not far from this very district. All the poor districts had the same destitute look and feeling to them.

  This district could have passed for a dozen just like it. They all had one room huts, shacks and garbage lining the streets. All the locals were bedraggled and poor. Occasionally a food cart selling fried fish would appear or a meager garden stand selling shoddy fruits and vegetables. That’s how the honest folk of the district would try to make a living. The not-so-honest simply resorted to thievery, prostitution, or begging.

  He and his master walked through without being harassed by anyone, though. Hawker, thief, harlot, or beggar walked cautiously at the sight of them. A Zedd’Kaul and a Roan bodyguard were not something these lowly folks were accustomed to seeing. For the most part, they gave them plenty of mistrustful looks but a wide berth to go with them. A good thing too, as Kable would have hated to hurt folks like these. They were just trying to survive.

  There was barely any Roan left at all compared to when they had been a mighty warrior society. Kable remembered asking his father long ago before he had taken The Oath why there were so few people like them. That was when he had first learned that he had come from a once proud race, not slaves. He could still hear the rare joy that had entered his father’s mighty voice as he told his only son of his heritage.

  Kable liked to think of that story and of his father reciting it to him in their dismal shack. He hadn’t cared then about how he lived; he had just been a boy who was happy to be with his father. He could picture Doarn even now after so many years since he had died. He looked exactly how Kable looked now.

  Kable was bald, but he’d never had much hair to begin with. He had been nine when he received the family tattoo. It covered every bronze inch of his chiseled form. The only thing he didn’t have was his father’s voice. Leldric said his voice matched his dim Ranis calf eyes, whatever that meant. But Doarn’s voice had been powerful, deep and charismatic. He remembered how his father would beam before he told the story of the Roan and how Kable would scoot close so he wouldn’t miss even a single word.

  “Son, we weren’t always lowly slaves to those bastard magicians. Witch Kings, phaw!” He would spit at the name when he knew nobody was watching.

  “Before they blinked their damned city on top of Mayora, we were a mighty race of warriors the likes the world has ever seen! During those days we lived apart from the Gaelarian Alliance. Back then we’d even gone to war against them. Fought them all the way to Petra we did. You see, they weren’t the Seven Cities then, they were a bunch o’ nations that just called themselves a bloody alliance for propriety’s sake. By the way, propriety to them meant kissin’ Petra’s shiny ass! Ha!

  “Anyways, where was I? Oh, right! You see, son, the nations was run by the nobles in them times. So it was easy for us to take ‘em on one by one. See, they’s too prideful then to stand together and fight us. Not tils we were knocking on the High King’s front door did they decide to unite against us. We fought ‘em for close on three years before they finally had enough and asked for a treaty. In the end we agreed to the terms they laid out for us. Truth be told, the war was almost lost for the Roan. We were too far from home and they kept hittin’ our supply caravans. We probably would o’ starved out. Or eaten the miserable damn fools we killed! Ha!

  “In the end though, they paid us handsomely to join their little alliance. We’d come to their aid if they needed us and we were granted land that stretched nearly to Rukari. Those were prosperous times for us, son.”

  Doarn’s voice would always grow somber as he reached this part of the story.

  “A few years of relative peace after that had made us soft! We’d grown fat and arrogant. We wasn’t ready when we saw those Zedd’Kaul appear outta thin air that day. Who knows how the hells they got here. Maybe they’s from one of the hells… who knows? Before we knew it, they were ripping the bay and the city to shreds. Brought them undead with ‘em too. Says they‘s protected us from ‘em. Never bought that lie, but we‘s paid for it all the same.

  “They conquered us in less than a day. They saw us as useful tools and swore us to The Oath. The majority of us fought on rather than agreeing to The Oath, but they slaughtered those who wouldn’t bend knee and serve without question. Finally after seeing how our struggle woulda cost us every’n, the rest of the clans wised up’n and took The Oath. Words that you’ll speak when you’re old enough, son. ‘To unquestioningly fight for and die for our Zedd’Kaul masters. To protect and honor them when they are defenseless against a foe. One Roan to watch over one Zedd’Kaul for as long as they draw breath in this existence.’”

  “Snap out of it!” Leldric hissed. “I need you focused while we are in the tavern. The Lurk may have changed forms since last night.

  Kable hadn’t realized it as he was thinking about his father and his story, but they had made it to the tavern, Cod Guts. The sign had a fish sitting on a stool holding a mug of ale in its fin. He blinked stupidly at Leldric and nodded. He cracked his knuckles and made sure his wicked axe that hung at his waist was within easy reach.

  He ducked through the doors first to get a look at how many people were there. The gloomy and grimy tavern was packed from wall to wall. A rowdy band of mostly drums and string instruments was on the tiny stage, and pipe smoke hung heavy in the air. Everyone was either at a table drinking or wildly dancing to the tune the band was playing. Kable didn’t have an ear for music, so he did his best to ignore the song and listen for any instructions Leldric might plant into his head.

  As Kable was squinting through the haze of purplish smoke that dominated the air in the room, Leldric cried out in his mind.

  There!

  Leldric shouldered past Kable, and the drinking pit went deathly silent as his master pointed towards the dancing patrons. Kable blinked stupidly again, thinking for a moment that his eyes were playing tricks on him. Every person in the room sat completely frozen in place like statues made of flesh and blood, except for one man. The Lurk looked wildly around the suddenly quiet and motionless room.

  He tried to make a break for the back of the place, but his master waved his hands, and the Lurk was floating upside down over the crowd of immobile dancers, squirming like a fish on a hook. Leldric strode to a nearby table with four chairs that was occupied by one lone drunk. His master sat, and the Lurk crested across the room over the stationary people and was neatly placed into the seat opposite the Zedd’Kaul. The Lurk looked uneasily at the unmoving man and licked his lips. Kable had seen this trick many times before, and he knew his master had this Lurk as surely as if he was tied to that chair. The Lurk licked his lips nervously again as if he was about to speak, but Leldric held up a hand.

  “If you would, Kable, some wine for me and our little friend.”

  Kable walked toward the bar, careful not to touch anybody who was frozen in place. It took him a while because it was so crowded, but he managed to get to wher
e he was going without knocking into anyone. Once behind the bar, he grabbed two mugs and poured until they were full of a thick dark ale. His master didn’t drink ale, so he began to worry since that was all the tavern had. He served the Lurk first, as was proper according to Leldric, and then handed the other over to his master, who didn‘t comment on the refreshment.

  Must be waiting to punish me later, Kable thought grimly.

  Leldric finally pulled his hood back, revealing a displeased face. Kable flinched involuntarily and shied away from the table. He’d seen that look before and knew it meant trouble. He was just glad that it wasn’t directed at him for once.

  “I’m going to release your bonds now, Lurk. If you try in any way to escape, or to attack me, my Roan will break every single bone in that body you are imitating.” He paused, studying the Lurk for a moment. “I can see by the sweat that has appeared on your brow that you can in fact feel pain. That is good to know. Displease me, and you shall feel plenty of it.”

  Leldric picked up his glass and took a sip, nodding for the Lurk to do the same. “What is the name that you are called by The Circle of Seven, Lurk?”

  The doppelganger picked up his glass and downed it in one go. His hands were shaking as he set the glass down.

  “They call me Lint, sir.”

  “How apropos. Are you familiar with the power of a Caster, Lint?” Leldric asked with a scowl.

  The nervous little Lurk simply nodded in reply.

  “That is well, because I’d hate to spend the preponderance of our meeting threatening you. Know that whatever answers I require from you will be given, either by force…” he gestured toward Kable, “or through more creative means.” He waved a hand, and the Lurk cried out in pain.

  “But I’m sure that neither of those tactics of extracting information will be necessary. You are here without permission, Lint. As I’m sure that you are aware, the Circle of Seven does not rule Mayora alone as it does the other Seven Cities. The Circle does indeed have a representative, or Architect if you prefer, but he acts in accord with the Kaul’Celum. One such as you, Lint, is not allowed into Mayora without our elders first granting you permission. The Kaul’Celum would have informed me of your presence if you had been granted access to the city. So in short, you are an uninvited guest that has committed murder among us. I would know why.”