Dragon Ultimate (41 page)

"He slew a dragon and used the life force to rip open a path."

"Jumble?"

"I am afraid so."

Relkin felt a wave of hate rise up in his heart. "I wish you'd told me about the Pure Ones earlier."

"Child, you will pass. You have no stain upon you."

Relkin wished he could be as positive about that himself.

Eventually he slept, waking only when some large animals tromped in from the dark and began to drink with lots of splashing and whistling. Relkin took the next watch, followed by Bazil, and then Mirk the watch before dawn.

The next morning opened with orange glory in the east and settled into a repeat of the day before. Wandering south through a range of hills cloaked with tawny grasses and dense clumps of thornbush, they occasionally glimpsed distant herds of animals. That night they found a small trickle of water in the bed of an almost dried-up stream. It was just enough to slake thirsts and fill their water bottles.

They found no game and slept on empty bellies.

The next day they reached a forested area. The trees were not more than ten feet tall and had marks of severe browsing upon them. The streams were dry, but clearly this was a wetter area than the first part of Lygarth they had seen.

They hunted and shot an animal not unlike an elk, except that its horn was on its nose rather than the top of its head. This time they roasted it on an exposed rock. After nightfall, yellow and orange eyes showed around them, but they ignored them and concentrated on eating well before sleeping.

Nothing chose to disturb them that night.

The following days were spent moving due south through this region of hills and forest, with crystal-pure lakes and the occasional flowing stream. They managed to make a kill at least every other day and thus kept hunger at bay. They had come more than a hundred miles by Relkin's reckoning, which had been honed to accuracy over years of campaigning, and were embarked on their eighth day of marching when they came over a rise, and saw something glittering on the next hilltop.

Through the distant trees they glimpsed a golden dome.

"That must be the temple," said Relkin, thinking out loud.

And so it was.

After winding up the side of the hill on a cobblestone road, they came to the simple, massive gate set into the ten-foot-high wall of white stone that surrounded the Temple of Gold.

The gate was open. No guards were visible. They entered and found themselves on a broad courtyard, paved in white-and-black stone which formed some complex pattern that was invisible to them.

Two-story buildings of stone lined either side of the court while ahead rose the temple itself, a simple square structure crowned with a glittering gold dome. A broad span of white-stone steps lead up to its entrance beneath a curving vault, decorated with inlaid lapis lazuli.

The only visible inhabitant was a small black cat sitting by itself on the steps below the temple entrance. At their appearance the cat sat up, stared hard, then turned and bounded lightly up the steps and into the shadows within the doorway.

"Where is everybody?" muttered Relkin. The dragon clacked his jaws lightly.

A breeze blew over them, sending a cool rush down their spines.

"Someone watch," said Bazil.

Mirk and Lessis had already realized this.

"Why do they not show themselves?" Relkin wondered.

"In time they will. Have no fear."

For a long moment, perhaps half a minute, the silence continued, and the cool breeze played over them. Nothing stirred in the courtyard except that breeze.

Relkin found himself thinking guilty thoughts. All the petty larcenies of his career as a dragonboy rose up to haunt him. So did visions of young women he had known at various times.

But to steal was to survive, if you were a dragonboy and faced with the demands of the job. There was never enough equipment, and it wore out fast when laced onto a two-ton fighting machine. A dragonboy had to liberate stuff like thread and thongs, metal and polish. As for the ladies he had loved, well why shouldn't he have loved them?

Suddenly there came a single deep chime from a bell, which reverberated in the silence. Several seconds went by, then out from the side doors came a dozen or more tall figures, clad in simple white robes and sandals. In feature they were akin to the golden elves that Relkin knew from his time in Mirchaz, but their faces were longer and narrower, and their skins had a faint bluish tinge. Their hair was white or silver and worn long, to the shoulders. Some had the suggestion of breasts beneath the white robes, others did not. This was the only sexual difference between them that was visible. The similarity to the elves of Mirchaz sent a shiver down Relkin's spine. He and Bazil had had enough trouble from the likes of these.

The twelve formed up in two lines of six. One stepped forward. He, or was it she? wore robes of purple silk over the white and a silver disk above its head.

"Welcome, strangers, to the Temple of Erris. I am Elory. We were told to expect a party of four, of which a wyvern and a man would seek to journey onward. You appear to be that party.

"We are also pleased to find a daughter of Cerule is among you. Welcome, Lessis, it has been many a year since last we saw you."

Lessis bowed.

"I thank you for your welcome, fair friends and children of great Erris. I am but a guide for those who would journey onward."

"Indeed, such information has been conveyed to us by your sister."

Lessis nodded to herself. Ribela had done her part.

"Normally we would not allow access to the temple courtyard to a fell creature such as the dragon, but we understand that the dragons of Argonath are not of the ancient archetype."

Bazil's big eyes popped dangerously and he hissed quietly to himself. He was every bit of the ancient archetype, if they really wanted to know.

"Seeing this magnificent beast, with its obvious intelligence, forces us to admit that we have been restricted to our temple for too long." Bazil's hiss cut off abruptly. "There have been great changes in the worlds that we were unaware of. Waakzaam's folly has produced strange consequences. Dragons have ceased to be the ravening monsters that haunted the worlds when they were young, and it seems to us most fitting that a dragon should be part of the quest to end Waakzaam's reign. Our cousins the Sinni have chosen well in their extremity."

"They live still?" said Lessis anxiously.

"They do."

"Thanks be given for that. I pray that we will be in time to help them."

"There is time, but not much room for error." The disked one turned to Mirk.

"And this is the one chosen?"

Mirk looked back with surprise. "No, friends, I am not the one."

Twelve heads turned as one and looked to Lessis, who confirmed what Mirk had said.

They turned in surprise to the younger man, a slight figure in comparison to burly Mirk. "You?" they said. "You are the one to be tested? You wish to enter the maze of gold?"

Relkin shrugged. "Well, actually, they asked me to."

There was a long silence.

"Tonight you will rest. Rooms are being made ready. Tomorrow morning we will see whether or not you may be allowed to enter the maze."

Relkin looked up at the dragon. Bazil was expressionless. Relkin thought the leatherback wyvern had taken it all very well.

"First though, we beg you to bathe, enjoy a meal in our refectory. There is a fresh vintage of the wine, and the cheese is very good, even if I say so myself. You must be hungry and footsore from your journey."

After eight days on the march through wild country, living off game and drinking from muddy wallows and water holes, they were all ready for the chance to bathe, wash their clothes, and sit down to a civilized meal.

The baths were carved of stone and coursing with hot water. They beat their clothes on the stone, wrung them out, and left them to dry. Robes of fine brown wool were given them by the order to wear in the meantime.

The dragon hosed himself down in the stables while a warehouse space was readied for his occupancy. A great pile of straw had been set down, along with water. A table and simple chairs of wood were brought in for the others to eat off.

Meals were simple among the Order of the Pure and Holy, but on this occasion they had outdone themselves. There was a great deal of barley and corn stirabout, to which they had added a concoction of onions, garlic, and wine. Bazil spooned this up with the largest ladle in the temple kitchen. There was bread, some sliced roast venison, and fruit for the others. Bazil had a haunch of the venison, a dozen loaves of bread, and three big pails of a curious, spiced ale that was a speciality of the temple's own small brewery.

They ate in a strained silence, each filled with their own thoughts. Relkin was thinking of Eilsa and wondering if he would ever see her again. What they were up against seemed impossible to overcome. He had no idea how they were supposed to tackle that huge thing that they'd seen in the vision.

If he never came back, how long would she wait? Would she wear widow's weeds all her life, as she had sworn that she would when he went off to Eigo? Or would she succumb to the demands of her family and marry someone approved by the factions of the Clan Wattel.

Relkin took up a goblet of the spicy ale and went out into the courtyard, where Bazil had been demolishing huge bowls of stirabout laced with onion sauce.

"This dragon very hungry. Nothing but a half a deer in two days."

"Yeah, we didn't run into much once we were in the forest."

"Almost as quiet as old forest in Eigo where we lived off pujish."

"Tough and stringy critters."

"But, boy know how to bake them to perfection."

Relkin laughed out loud. "As if anyone would want to eat them, unless they had to."

Together they laughed long and loud, then fell into a long silence as their mood turned more somber. Bazil broke the silence first.

"Tomorrow they test us; they destroy us if we fail test."

"That's what I heard. Doesn't sound good. So if I don't make it out, I just want you to know that you're the best damned dragon a man could have had. You've got me out of more jams than I can count."

Bazil put up a huge hand.

"Relkin always good dragonboy. And save this dragon's hide many time. Relkin dragonfriend."

Relkin's goblet was empty. Bazil had finished his pail. Both felt light-headed; the ale was stronger than they were accustomed to.

Quite suddenly a young woman was there, wearing a short tunic of worked hide fringed with red beads. She carried a jug of beer, and, with a big smile, she poured most of it into Bazil's pail and filled Relkin's mug.

With another smile she eyed Relkin quite frankly.

"Hello," she said, "I am Ilaren."

She was beautiful, with long dark hair brushed and glistening down her back. Her tunic was belted tightly at her waist, and, despite her youth, her figure was that of a voluptuous woman.

In fact, she reminded Relkin of Ferla, and the thought brought up a chain of complex, unwelcome thoughts, mostly about his lack of purity. Ferla had been the dream creation of the mad elf lord, Mot Pulk. Relkin had been the victim of strange, lush magic, but he had loved Ferla.

"The sisters of the order told me that your name is Relkin.

My name means, 'flower of the spirit.' What does your name mean?"

Relkin stammered a moment, thunderstruck by the deep violet eyes and stunning beauty in her face. "I don't know," he said. "I don't think it means anything. It was just what I got named in the dragonhouse. I was an orphan, you see."

"What is an orphan?"

"Someone without a mother or a father. No parents."

The ale in his cup was sweet and easy to drink. Quite suddenly, though, he felt the world reel and spin for a moment. He shook his head to clear it a little. Ilaren was still there, still smiling. He drank in her beauty. Time passed. She was now sitting very close to him.

"They told me you are a soldier. Tell me about your life."

Her eyes were so attractive, so deep. His eyes were caught by the dark, mysterious curve between her breasts. He felt the roaring in his brain of absolute primal lust. He wanted her with every fiber of his being. And she wanted him, or so it seemed.

Mysterious patterns danced across his eyes. Her opulent bosom heaved. The dark softness between her breasts seemed the most inviting place he had ever seen. He put out a hand. To turn her away? Or to make that first contact, before making love to her? He would never know for sure. For the rest of his life, Relkin would never be absolutely sure.

An image of Eilsa burst into his mind, and the thought of her was like having the sun suddenly break through the clouds on a rainy day. Eilsa was real; Eilsa was his love.

He clung to that thought. Eilsa was his true love. He had fallen when he went with Ferla, and with Lumbee, but he had resolved never to fall again. His situation in both cases had been extreme, and thus he could forgive himself to a degree. But this was different, for now he knew himself and knew what he could not do.