Prologue

The Cursed

 

            Unseen, a half-elf child glided through the dappled sunlight and shadow within the forest. She wore no shoes, and a few leaves were tangled in her dark brown hair. There was a trail nearby, going in the same direction she was. It led to a waterfall, which cascaded into a pool of cool, mountain water. However, the girl chose to find her own way, passing among the woods in silence.

            As she walked along the trunk of a fallen tree, the child held out her slender arms for balance. With a triumphant smile, she reached the end and leapt, doing a full flip in the air, before landing in a crouch on the leaf-carpeted ground.

            The smile died on the girl’s lips when she caught sight of a small stream in front of her. It was one of many that ran out of the pool fed by the waterfall.

            Slowly, the child straightened to her full height, eyes locked on the water. She began moving forward as though in a trance and only stopped once she stood on the edge of the bank. 

            Delicately, she stretched out a foot, slowly brushing the surface for a single moment before jerking her leg back. The girl froze, watching carefully for signs of danger, but the brook trickled on as if she did not exist.

            Again, the child reached out to touch the water, this time leaving the tips of her toes submerged. Her body was taut, prepared to spring away at any moment. She remained in the same position for nearly a full minute, then, cautiously, she took a step forward. Her foot disappeared up to the ankle in the placid water.

            The girl’s hesitation was shorter this time. Carefully, she placed her second foot beside the first. Almost as soon as both were fully submerged, she began to slip uncontrollably toward the center of the stream. The child’s eyes widened in horror, and she made a mad scramble for the bank. Despite the minuscule depth of the water, her efforts were in vain. Surging forward, she almost managed to escape, but a large wave shoved the child to her knees and carried her into the middle of the stream.

            The cry of terror that came from the girl’s throat was cut off as a wall of water struck her from behind, spinning her around in the now raging torrent. The child struggled, trying to keep her head above the surface. Another, even stronger wave, forced her down, pinning her small frame to the rocky riverbed.

            Wriggling like a fish, the girl attempted to fight her way free but was unable to escape the grasp of the current. She opened her mouth in panic, releasing a cloud of bubbles in a scream that no one heard. Her lungs burned, and her heart thundered in her chest as darkness pressed on the corners of her vision.

            With her hands, the half-elf scrabbled among the pebbles on the bottom of the stream, desperately trying to claw herself from the water’s sinister clutches.

            Suddenly, her head broke the surface, and she took a long, choking breath.

            “Candra, are you okay?” the human boy who was holding the back of her shirt asked in concern. He was the one who had lifted her from the bottom of the waist-deep water.

            “I’m fine, Kraster!” she spat at him, attempting to pull herself free of his hand.

            The boy didn’t release Candra; instead, he started towing her toward the nearby bank. The stream behind them was as calm as it had been when the girl first laid eyes on it.

            “Are you sure you’re all right?” Kraster asked, guiding her to the safety of land.

            As soon as she was no longer touching the water, Candra savagely ripped herself out of Kraster’s grasp and turned to face him.

            “Leave me alone!” she snarled, backing away. 

            The girl’s wet hair was plastered to her pale face. Her brown eyes were hot with anger, igniting the specks of gold in them. They were strange eyes, even for a half-elf.

            Sometimes, the golden flecks seemed to glow inexplicably with an inner fire.

            Confusion clouded Kraster’s countenance.

            “I was just trying to help,” he told her.

            “I don’t need your help,” she snapped bitterly. “Yours or your family’s.”

            “Don’t you mean our fam–”

            “No!” Candra shrieked. “Never!”

            Without another word, she bolted away from him, back into the forest.

            Kraster pursed his lips as he watched his half-sister vanish from sight among the trees.

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Chapter 1

The Teapot

 

            I’d learned a long time ago that there was absolutely nothing remarkable about me. 

            I didn’t stand out as being particularly beautiful, intelligent, or witty. Others weren’t interested in befriending me or even engaging me in conversation. Being overlooked was such a common occurrence that I often felt invisible. In a crowd, people tended to unconsciously shy away from me. When I spoke, my words were rarely well received, as though the listener heard a negative undertone in everything I said.

            As a child, these realities caused me a lot of pain. However, as an adult, I used them to my advantage by making stealth operations my specialty.

            Over the last decade, I’d mastered the art of going unnoticed, completing my objective, and slipping away without leaving a trace. Although to be honest, I probably wouldn’t have been nearly so successful without Kraster, my half-brother, as my partner. Magical abilities were rare, especially among humans, but he’d been blessed with them and was incredibly gifted. He was also the only person I’d ever met who was immune to the negative effect I had on those around me. I’d always assumed it had something to do with his magic, but he’d been friendly to me even before his powers manifested.

            From what I knew, our current mission was unlikely to require Kraster’s special skill set. Yesterday, my brother and I had been briefed on the assignment by General Greyward, the commander of Kempt’s army.

            He hadn’t given us very much to go on. Our only instructions were to locate and gather information about some kind of ancient artifact. The relic was believed to be in a small, quaint town called Thea, which was a few days’ ride southwest of Kempt. I’d never been there before, but I knew Thea was considered a sacred place, with a shrine and an enclave of acolytes.

            As soon as Greyward had told us our objective, I suspected it was some kind of test since everything seemed so simple and straightforward. However, there was a tense expression on the general’s face that I’d never seen before. Not that I got a very good look, since Greyward’s attention was primarily focused on Kraster, as usual. Whenever we met with the general, it was always the same; he’d gush over my brother’s talents and achievements while barely bothering to register my existence. 

            For the last several years, our assignments had been growing more numerous and more dangerous, with little explanation given to us either before we were dispatched or after our return. Even still, this time I’d been left with the strong impression that something wasn’t quite right. 

            Humans were short-lived compared to most other races, and Greyward was nearing the age of sixty. Was that when they started becoming soft in the head? The general certainly had plenty of wrinkles and gray hair. If he was going senile, it would explain his curious behavior of late. 

            Speaking of odd behavior, three weeks ago, General Greyward had gathered most of the army at a temporary camp two days’ march from Kempt, leaving only the city guard behind for protection. The rumors I’d heard seemed to indicate that none of the captains or other officers had any clue as to why he’d done this. Neither did Kraster, Greyward’s protégé. My brother’s best guess was that this was all some sort of training exercise. I didn’t think he was right as it didn’t seem like a good enough reason for the general to have left the city so vulnerable.

            Kempt was one of the three major human cities in Planosia. Once, many centuries ago, all of mankind had been part of a unified kingdom called Aurum, but not anymore. While Kempt wasn’t currently in conflict with any of its neighbors, trust wasn’t something I believed in, due in no small part to my line of work. 

            Case in point, Kraster and I were currently disguised as pilgrims, riding down the dusty road to Thea. The red sun was high in the sky without a cloud in sight. It was early summer, so the plants were still small, just beginning to grow toward the heavens. The last few weeks had been very pleasant, with only a hint of frost in the air on the coldest of nights. 

            We’d departed camp at dawn and had made good progress. I knew we were getting close to our destination when we started to pass fields of wheat, groves of tea trees, and rows of grapevines. There were plenty of other travelers on the road, most wrapped in rough, handspun, pilgrim robes similar to our own. 

            Mine was itchy and uncomfortable. Even worse, donning it meant I couldn’t wear my swords and had to hide them in a bundle of clothing among my luggage. I felt naked without the two blades on my belt. However, I was far from defenseless, as there were several knives concealed on my person in case of an emergency.

            Less than twenty minutes later, the town came into view. The small cluster of stone buildings was nearly white. The one in the center was taller than the others, its roof rising to a sharp steeple many feet in the air.

            “I’ll bet you a month’s pay that’s the shrine,” I said, pointing to it.

            “Thanks, but I’ll pass,” Kraster replied. “That sounds like a terrible bet.”

I scowled at him.

            “Don’t turn into a storm cloud,” he chuckled. “Candra, if you won, you’d just drink the coins away and regret it in the morning.”

            “I regret nothing,” I told him. 

            Even in the beginning, when I’d tried to be clever, I’d never been able to hide my chosen vice from Kraster. I knew he worried for me, but sometimes I wanted to be less lonely, and sometimes I wanted to be happy, and sometimes I wanted to forget, and sometimes I wanted to feel something, and sometimes I wanted to feel absolutely nothing. It didn’t seem to matter what mood I was trying to capture, the answer could almost always be found at the bottom of a flagon or two… or three now. A few days ago, it had even taken me four, but I’d eventually gotten there just the same. No one else seemed to care, as long as it didn’t interfere with my assignments, but I knew the habit didn’t sit well with Kraster.

            Pushing away the guilt, I focused on the town in the distance. I’d never heard of anyone being sent on a mission to Thea before, and, the closer I got, the easier it was to understand why. The first building we came to was more of a hovel than a decent dwelling. 

            A hunched, old woman, dressed in the garb of an acolyte, sat out front tending a fire over which hung half a dozen metal tea kettles. Her hair was frizzy and gray, and she had a pair of large warts on her very prominent nose. It seemed that the woman was offering tea to travelers as they passed. Some stopped; others did not.

            Kraster halted his warhorse, Raspberry, and dismounted. My brother had chosen the name because of the reddish tones in the beast’s chestnut coat. Currently, the stallion was disguised as a carthorse by a layer of mud, so little of the vibrant color was visible. 

            After handing me Raspberry’s reins, Kraster stepped off the road and politely accepted a small cup of tea from the woman. He took a sip and dropped a few coins into the donation bowl on her table, then headed back in my direction.

            Quickly, I swung down from my black gelding. His name was Tempest. I’d picked it for him because I thought it sounded powerful. However, Kraster had started calling him Pest, which didn’t sound powerful at all, and, of course, that’s what everyone else started calling him too.

            “How’s the tea?” I asked my brother quietly.

            “Hot,” he replied with a grin.

            I rolled my eyes at him.

            “Greyward was right about you,” I retorted. “You don’t miss a thing.”

            Kraster beamed. “Greyward said that about me? He’s too kind.”

            “You’ve got that right,” I muttered under my breath, as I pushed past my brother and handed him both sets of reins. 

            With a pleasant smile plastered on my face, I reached the table and also deposited several coins into the woman’s bowl before waiting to receive a cup of tea. The woman turned away from me and offered the next three cups to a group who had approached from the opposite direction while Kraster and I were talking.

            “All out,” she said gruffly and without a hint of remorse when she finally acknowledged my presence. 

            “Of course,” I murmured with a polite dip of my head as I turned back to Kraster.

            He was scowling, but there was no way he was going to make a scene while we were working.

            “Are my ears still covered?” I mouthed to him as we began leading our horses further into the town.

            Kraster nodded, but I still raised one hand to my hair to check. We had both inherited our father’s dark locks. I almost never cut mine, using them to conceal my ears, which came to traitorously sharp points at their ends. Kraster’s hair was just long enough that he could tie it back with a leather thong when needed. However, unless we were training or preparing for combat, he usually left it loose.

            I patted my hair back into place and struggled to hold in a sigh. It was so much easier to make the slights of others feel less personal when it was only the result of my mixed blood. That way, I could pretend it had nothing to do with me and me alone.

            “I think that’s an inn,” I announced, motioning to the only two-story structure.

            Kraster nodded and led the way to the door. In less than half an hour, we had secured a room for ourselves and stalls for our horses. Now it was time for the real work to begin.

            The view from our room couldn’t have been better. We were on the second floor, and the window looked out on the center of the tiny village with the pointy-roofed shrine smack dab in the middle.

            I spent about twenty minutes mapping the layout. It did seem like overkill, since the town was so incredibly small, but this mission was clearly very important to Greyward, and, if anything went wrong, I was sure to be blamed.

            Kraster and I had been a team for many years. We were usually dispatched to gather tactical information, track down a fugitive, or liberate an object from its illegitimate owner. We’d even been sent on a few assassinations. This time, Greyward had told us to learn all we could about the item, but not to touch it. He’d been very clear on this point.

            Once I finished sketching, I poked Kraster, who’d fallen asleep on one of the two beds.

            “Nap time’s over,” I told him. “Let’s get busy.”

            We leisurely stepped out of the inn onto the unpaved street. It didn’t take us long to determine the purpose of each building. There was a dormitory where the shrine maidens lived and a row of small villas for the acolytes. Both groups were made up solely of women and girls. The only males in the town were the pilgrims and other travelers.

            Several large sheds scattered throughout the village housed the items used in the shrine and the tools for working the surrounding fields. Closer to the inn, there was a bakery, a trinket shop, and a winery, which I resolved to visit later. 

            Lastly, there was the shrine itself. I took careful note of where the doors and windows were located on each structure so I could add the details to my map later.

            Even though it was the central building of the town and clearly the main attraction, the shrine was pitifully small compared to others I’d seen. We waited in a line of pilgrims as only a few visitors were admitted at a time.

            “Here’s where we find the relic,” I murmured to Kraster, who nodded.

            Just as it was about to be our turn, the shrine maidens on duty switched. Four new women, one of them young enough to still be a teenager, walked past us in a diamond formation. Their feet were perfectly synced with each other, almost as though they were marching in a military maneuver.

            Suddenly, the young one tripped and bumped into the woman in front of her, who was closer to my age. Scowling, the older shrine maiden turned around to chide her clumsy companion. “Wren, how many times must I tell you to watch where you place your feet?”

            The young shrine maiden, Wren, dropped her eyes and looked at the ground, mortified. “I am very sorry,” was all she said.

            The three other women shook their heads as they all started forward again.

I stared after them in shock. The shrine maidens wore white and teal uniforms that covered nearly every inch of their skin and included a hooded robe. However, when the young maiden tripped, her hood had fallen back to reveal ears that were slightly pointed. She was a half-elf, like me. Although from her fine features, I imagined she was descended from a high elf bloodline, instead of merely a wood elf one, as I was. 

            The presence of another half-breed surprised me. We were rare. Not only did the races of the world tend not to mix, but their offspring often found it hard to fit into either parents’ world. Besides that, I hadn't seen any elves serving among the shrine maidens or acolytes, only humans, as was common in this part of the world. It was likely that this girl had been given to the sisters not from a sense of religious vigor, but for convenience. If there had been a shrine near Owen’s Falls, where I’d grown up, I’m sure I would have shared the same fate.

            Kraster touched my shoulder. “Come on,” he murmured. “It’s our turn.”

            We stepped forward and both put three coins into the donation box. One of the maidens pulled back a threadbare curtain to let us inside the shrine. 

            The interior was dim, and it took a moment for my eyes to adjust. When they did, the first thing I saw was the teapot.

            I’d never drunk much tea and knew very little about the beverage, much less about the vessels in which it was brewed; however, even I could see that there was something extremely special about this one. The teapot was a crystal orb, gilt in an intricate weaving of gold, which formed the handle, legs, and spout. Within, was a mint green, slightly luminescent liquid. It was too opaque to see through but moved as though the tea was being stirred, even though it sat untouched on its pedestal.

            I glanced to my right, where Kraster stood staring with his mouth hanging open. Suppressing a smile, I gave him a nudge. He snapped his jaw shut sheepishly. 

            Aside from the teapot, the interior of the shrine was very plain. It had clean, white walls and a few open windows close to the ceiling. The space was cut in half by a pair of teal green curtains, shielding half of the room from our view. A shrine maiden stood close to where the curtains met. I recognized her as the half-elf who had tripped earlier. Now that she was indoors, her hood was down, leaving her pointed ears exposed as they poked through her brown hair. I tried to recall her name. Robin, maybe?

            After one more long look at the teapot, I moved to her, trying to see if I could make out anything through the slit between the curtains. The opening was only an inch or two wide. No light filtered through the cloth, so the windows on that side of the building must have been shuttered. 

            “Good afternoon,” I said to Robin–or whatever her name was–giving her a smile. I tried not to overdo it; I’d been told I often overdid it when attempting to be friendly.

            “Greetings to you.” The shrine maiden dipped her head to me respectfully.

            “Where did it come from?” I asked, nodding toward the teapot.

            “Only The Great Shal’eth knows,” she replied in that insanely annoying way people did when they’d said the same thing over and over again because they were told to, but really had no idea what it actually meant.

            “The Great Shal’eth?” I asked, wondering why that name sounded so familiar. All the while, I was cocking my head slightly, trying to get a better angle to peer into the shadows on the other side of the curtain. Even with my half-elf eyes, which were better at seeing in the dark than a human’s, I still couldn’t make out anything in the gloom. Although I had the strangest sense that someone was watching me.

            “Yes,” the young woman replied, drawing my attention. Her voice was the same as before, except it had now taken on a dreamy tone. “It is he who protects this place and gives us sanctuary here.”

            “Well, he has done a wonderful job,” I told her, doing my best to come off as sincere. “This place is so… preserved?” My words came out more as a question than a statement.

            “Indeed,” the shrine maiden answered, not seeming to notice my uncertainty. Her doe-like eyes were unfocused as she continued. “The order has lived this way for centuries and will continue as we are forever, under his watchful eye.”

            I nodded. Now that I’d confirmed there was no way to sneak a peek behind the curtain, it was time to escape this conversation. Thankfully, another of the shrine maidens approached us.

            “Forgive me,” she said, eyes looking me up and down disapprovingly, “but the next group of pilgrims is eager to enter.”

            “Of course. My apologies.” I smiled at both of them.

            “Wren, please fetch some water for those accepting donations,” the second woman continued to the younger shrine maiden.

            Wren. Her name was Wren. Both wrens and robins were birds starting with “r” sounds, so at least I’d been close.

            Kraster was waiting for me by the exit where we, once again, made a donation on our way out.

            “If you care to join us,” the maiden holding the box said to Kraster, “Mother Imin will be hosting a tea ceremony for all to see in the square at sunset.”

            “We’ll be there,” I told her, even though she never turned her eyes in my direction.

            “Learn anything?” Kraster asked as we walked back to the inn.

            “Not really,” I shrugged. “They follow someone called Shal’eth. I feel like I should know who that is, but I can’t recall.”

            Kraster considered for a moment. “I think he’s a dragon.”

            I rolled my eyes. “Whatever, you’re making that up to try and look smart.”

            We got to our room, and I plopped down on the nearest bed.

            “No, I’m serious,” he insisted. “I remember reading about him in one of Noral’s books.”

            I nearly flinched at the name of one of my half-sisters.

            “Then what else did the book say?” I challenged.

            “Not much. He was on a list of the great dragons of old.”

            “Right,” I said, my tone disbelieving. “I’m sure the sacred relic of one of the great dragons is a teapot.”

            “It has to be more than just a teapot,” Kraster protested. “I mean, did you get a good look at that thing?”

            “Of course,” I nodded. “I’m just not sure why a dragon, or Greyward for that matter, would find it important.”

            Kraster shrugged. “It’s clearly a magical artifact of some type.”

            “Yes, but it’s a teapot,” I couldn’t help pointing out again. “If it were a sword or a shield or something like that, I wouldn’t have nearly as many questions as I do now.”

            “Regardless, I’d better give the general an update on our progress.” Kraster took out a small, gray charm with a purple rune carved on the top.

            General Greyward had a matching charm with the same rune. Once a day, each charm could be used to send a brief message to the other. The general would want a full report at the conclusion of our investigation, so I took out the map once more and started adding the details I’d collected.

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Chapter 2

The Ceremony

 

            An hour later, Kraster and I headed down to the inn’s main room for dinner. 

            “We should stop by the winery after the ceremony,” I told him.

            Kraster glanced at me, then gave the mug of ale in my hand a pointed look.

            “Come on,” I sighed. “This is just to wash down dinner. The winery will be an experience. Didn’t you notice the vineyard on the road here? They grow their own grapes and make their own wine. We may never have the chance to try it again, and I, for one, don’t want to waste this incredible opportunity.”

            Kraster pursed his lips but relented. “Fine. After the ceremony, we can go for one drink at the winery.”

            I grinned at him. One never meant one to me.

            Just as we finished our meal, a gong sounded, summoning everyone in the village. Kraster and I divided, each taking an opposite side of the town square, so we could observe everything from two angles. It didn’t seem like there would be much to see, but it was good to maintain our training.

            A low, wooden table was carried to the center of the square by six shrine maidens. Three others stood slightly off to the side, making music with a set of chimes, some handbells, and the gong we’d heard earlier. It was very pleasant and fit the time of day perfectly. The sun, large and maroon, was just touching the horizon, streaking the clouds deep purple and pale pink.

            The tempo of the melody changed as a procession of women emerged from the shrine. They took each step together, slowly making their way to the table. 

            The two in front carried candles. They were followed by four others who each held a teacup. The design of these matched the teapot in the shrine. The only difference was that they were empty, which made them far more ordinary than I would have thought possible. Next came Wren and a girl who couldn’t have been more than twelve. Each of them held one end of a rolled-up piece of fabric. The cloth was white with thin swirls of teal.

            Last came a tall shrine maiden who looked to be in her late thirties. In both hands she clutched the teapot, which was glowing brightly. The liquid within churned wildly despite the slow and careful steps of the woman. 

            As the candle and cup bearers reached the square table, they split, half going to the left and half to the right. When Wren and the little girl approached a moment later, they unfurled their cloth over the wooden surface. The younger girl was flawless as she released her end and allowed the fabric to gently roll down the length of the table, never touching the dirt.

            Wren was less perfect. She wasn’t quick enough to keep the hem from hitting the ground, and the cloth on her side didn’t lay quite flat. Hastily, Wren straightened it with her hand before stepping back. 

            Ironically, one of the things high elves were known for was their gracefulness, but, as I well understood, being a half-breed was a mixed bag. You got some traits from one side and some from the other, with no regard as to what would make sense.

            The candles were set in the center of the table, and a cup was placed on each of the four sides. The other shrine maidens withdrew as the woman carrying the teapot reached the table. All of their movements were so practiced that the entire ceremony was like a dance. Even Wren moved with an innate agility. She wasn’t as skilled as the others but still performed far better than I could have.

            Circling the table slowly, the maiden with the teapot began to pour the tea. Once she’d finished filling all the cups, she stepped back, still holding the completely full teapot. I made a mental note of the fact that it was never put down.

            Everyone’s attention shifted to the right, where an ancient woman, who could only be Mother Imin, approached from the direction of the acolytes’ villas. She used a cane, which appeared to be more reliable than either of her legs. Finally, she reached the table. A girl of six or seven had been following with a cushion, which she slipped under the old woman as she sank to the ground directly across from the shrine.

            Mother Imin picked up the teacup in front of her with a shaky hand. “We give thanks this night to The Creator for the ever-rising sun,” she said in a surprisingly strong voice. 

            Almost before I realized what was happening, one of the shrine maidens had stepped forward and picked up the steaming cup of tea on the eastern side of the table. After quickly pouring its contents on the ground, she stepped back to her place. 

            “And we ask for grace for the fallen who seek redemption,” Mother Imin went on as another shrine maiden poured out a second cup on the opposite side of the table.

            “We offer a hymn of mourning for Alora, The Blessing that was lost so long ago.” The cup of tea across from Mother Imin was poured out by Wren.

            “And voice our gratitude to The Great Shal’eth for his provision.”

            I glanced at Kraster, wondering if he knew anything about the different beings Mother Imin had referred to. I’d always understood that there were many powerful forces in the world, both seen and unseen, but I couldn’t name more than a handful.

            Mother Imin lifted the final cup to her lips and drank deeply. The surrounding maidens and acolytes bowed their heads. After finishing the tea, the old woman set the cup back down and rose.

            The dance of the shrine maidens started again. In no time, the cloth, candles, cups, and table were removed, and the music came to an end.

            I made my way to Kraster.

            “That was interesting,” he said.

            “Yeah, I guess.” I nodded. “Not sure what they were going on about, but at least it was short and sweet. Now, with regard to that winery…”

            Kraster sighed but followed as I turned around and set off with purpose.

            The winery was delightful. It had an open courtyard full of tables where we could drink and watch the stars come out one by one. To my surprise, there was a full-blooded high elf woman sitting alone at the table to our right. She wore an elegantly woven tunic of thick thread that was a masterpiece of many rich shades of orange. Her legs were sheathed in brown pants of a similar design. They weren’t elvish garments exactly, but certainly looked expensive and ornate.

            There was a glass of wine in front of the elf, which she was gazing at more than drinking. In the time it took for me to down two glasses, she hadn’t taken more than a few sips.

            I was about to order a third, but Kraster seized my wrist to stop me.

            “We have work to do tonight,” he reminded me quietly. There was concern in his brown eyes. They were several shades darker than mine and lacked the golden flecks that I’m sure came from my unusual parentage.

            “I do my best work when I’ve been properly watered,” I informed him, waving for another glass. The workers here weren’t shrine maidens, but the older acolytes. 

            “Besides,” I said, turning back to Kraster, “what is there to find out? It’s a teapot. It holds tea. Do we really need to know more?”

            “More is always better,” Kraster insisted.

            “You’re just trying to impress Greyward,” I muttered.

            “You should try it sometime,” my brother retorted.

            “Won’t help,” I announced, accepting another glass from the serving acolyte.

            “It might–” Kraster started, but I gave him a sharp look, and he fell silent. We both knew that in our first two years serving under Greyward, I had run myself ragged attempting to earn the general’s favor. My efforts had all been in vain. The only reason I received any promotions or special assignments was because of Kraster, whom Greyward couldn’t praise enough.

            “We should investigate anyway,” Kraster started again.

            “Fine,” I sighed. “I am curious about what they are hiding behind that curtain.”

            He nodded eagerly. “Then it’s settled. When the town grows quiet, we will make our move.”

            After I finished my final cup, Kraster helped me to my feet. Even still, I clumsily bumped into the table next to me.

            “Sorry,” I said to the high elf.

            “Pray, don’t mention it,” she replied in a tone far friendlier than that of any high elf I’d spoken to before, not that there had been very many. 

            “It is I who should apologize to you,” she went on.

            I glanced at her and realized that she didn’t look much like other high elves either. Her rich brown hair was cut short, barely reaching past her chin, and her eyes were a vivid shade of orange I’d never seen before.

            “Are you really a high elf?” I blurted out. “You don’t seem like one.”

            “Do I not?” the elf asked. In her words was the sound of tinkling bells, and her small mouth twisted with mirth at my observation.

            “Sorry, she’s had more than she should,” Kraster apologized.

            “It’s fine,” the elf told him, then turned to me. “My name is Lucille. Long has it been since I lived among high elves, so it is not surprising that my mannerisms should be different.”

            “Why has it been so long?” I wondered.

            The elf pressed her ruby lips together, and a sad look crossed her perfect face. “I’ve been waiting for something. Waiting for a very long time now.” Lucille’s orange gaze settled on me. It was intense, as though she was looking through me.

            “What are you waiting for?” I asked, feeling suddenly quite sober.

            “The right time,” she replied.

            “The right time for what?” I pressed. Now she was sounding more like a high elf.

            “Candra, you’re being rude,” Kraster said softly, but Lucille waved him off with a few of her fingers.

            “The right time to find someone,” she told me. There was finality in her words, and I knew we had reached the end of our conversation.

            “I wish you luck,” I called over my shoulder as Kraster led me away.

            I felt Lucille’s eyes on me as we crossed the courtyard and headed back to our accommodations for the evening.

            “You didn’t have to make such a fuss,” I told my brother.

            “And you shouldn’t be bothering people in your state,” he snapped back.     “We are trying not to draw attention to ourselves, remember?”

            “I’m not that drunk,” I said. “I’m just trying to enjoy the region’s delicacies!”

            Kraster rolled his eyes as he marched me up to the inn.

            Once we were back in our room, I perched by the window, keeping watch on the square. A moment after I’d gotten settled, I saw Lucille leave the winery and head for the shrine. A few of the maidens were by the door, and others were coming in and out, probably on cleaning duty. None of them tried to stop her when she entered.

            A quarter of an hour later, a saddled horse was led to the front of the shrine by an acolyte just as Lucille walked out. She took the horse with a nod of thanks, mounted it, and left the town, vanishing from sight into the darkness.

​

​

Chapter 3

The Great

 

            The town grew quiet early, with most of the pilgrims retiring shortly after nightfall. From our window, Kraster and I could see that, while the square was empty, oil lamps were refreshed every hour or so. There were also processions of shrine maidens and acolytes that didn’t seem to follow any sort of set schedule. Sometimes, they ventured into the shrine momentarily; sometimes, they merely passed it by.

            Around the third hour of the morning, I nudged Kraster, who was dozing at my side. The lamps had just been filled, and the processions seemed to be fewer and farther apart.

            Kraster watched as I took out a length of rope. The inn’s stairs were creaky, and going out the window would be faster anyway. The large wardrobe in the corner was the only piece of furniture in the room heavy enough that it might hold Kraster’s weight. He’d received our father’s sturdy frame, and military life had added ample muscle.

            As with all things, I’d inherited a little from both sides. I was taller than most wood elves but had their willowy build. My arms were long and a bit disproportionate, but ideal for climbing down ropes from second-story windows in the middle of the night. 

            “You coming?” I whispered over my shoulder as I clambered onto the windowsill.

            Kraster hesitated and glanced at the wardrobe, then shook his head. “I’ll watch from here,” he decided.

            I nodded before slipping out the window. A moment later, I was down the rope and crouched in the bushes below. After several moments of stillness, I carefully started across the square, trying to be a mere shadow. It was not an easy feat considering how brightly the lamps shone.

            Just before I reached the shrine, I heard the tramp of feet. Diving to the side, I flattened myself against the wall as three figures appeared. I held my breath, hoping they would stop or turn, but they didn’t.

            As they continued, their pace slackened. For a terrible moment, I feared I might have been spotted, and then all three slowly crumpled to the ground.

            I looked up at the inn’s window where I could just make out Kraster’s hand pointed toward the downed trio. Sleep was one of his most useful spells, as it left no witnesses and also no carnage. We were lucky there had only been three, since that was about all Kraster could manage to drop at one time.

            Heaving a sigh of relief, I slipped into the shrine. I paused on the threshold and held my breath. All was quiet and still. I’d been expecting it to be dark inside, but there were lamps burning behind the cloth curtain. Slowly, I moved forward, using all my skill to create as little noise as possible. The first thing I noticed was that the teapot was gone, its place on the pedestal barren.

            Probably removed for security, I decided. 

            It was most likely stashed somewhere close by, in a locked chest or something. None of my senses detected movement on the other side of the curtain, so I carefully pushed my way through.

            Immediately, I froze, because sitting in front of me was a dragon!

            Okay, not a dragon exactly. He was human–a very large, very muscular human, with a dragon head on top of his broad shoulders. The proportions were incredibly strange since there was no neck, and the long snout of the dragon head protruded nearly as far as the human arms would be able to reach. 

            The dragon-man-thing wore no shirt, which wasn’t strange because how would he have put it on? His lower half was wrapped in a white sarong, which ended mid-calf. However, I hardly noticed the clothes. All I could do was stand there and stare at the head, trapped in the gaze of its brilliant teal green eyes.

            “Hello,” the creature said in a calm, regal voice that rumbled deep in the back of his scaly throat. He was seated on a comfortable-looking, velvet chair. Beside him was a wooden table which held the teapot and a matching cup half full of tea.

            I wonder how he drinks it, I thought, then mentally slapped myself. That was the last thing I should be worried about. I needed to make a choice: run, fight, try to explain I’d gotten lost on my way to the bathroom, or beg not to be eaten.

            “You’re The Great Shal’eth, aren’t you?” I asked, amazed at how calm my words sounded.

            “You are correct,” he replied with a slight nod of his head, then his gaze intensified to a level I hadn’t thought possible. “Who are you?”

            “I’m– I’m nobody,” I told him, the words coming to my lips almost unbidden.             In my defense, it is really hard to keep your wits about you when facing down a dragon, even if it’s just the dragon’s head. If Shal’eth had stood up, he would have only been a foot taller than Kraster, but that mouth looked like it could swallow me in one bite.

            “Everyone is someone,” Shal’eth said, his eyes running over me. I prayed he wasn’t thinking of having a midnight snack. “We all have a story, a mission, a journey.” His eyes flicked back to my face. “A future.”

            I wasn’t so sure about that last one anymore, unless I managed to escape quickly.

            “And your arrival heralds the start of the end,” he went on matter-of-factly.

            “The end?” I asked.

            “Indeed,” Shal’eth said, voice softer. “But we have some time yet, I think, before tragedy befalls us. Please, sit, so we may speak.”

            I glanced at the chair across from him. It was identical to the one in which he sat.

            “I’m good,” I said, preferring to remain as close to the exit as possible.

            Shal’eth made no response; he only watched me with those depthless eyes of his. If you have never been within ten feet of a dragon, then you will never understand the power of their gaze.

            I swallowed and made my way to the empty chair, choosing to perch on the very edge of it, like a bird about to take flight.

            “Where are you from?” Shal’eth wondered.

            My mind went blank. This was not the direction I’d expected our conversation to take. I’d been caught sneaking into the forbidden section of a sacred shrine in the dead of night, and this Shal’eth fellow wanted to have a friendly chat about my early life? I was starting to wonder if the wine I’d had earlier was a lot stronger than I’d thought. Maybe I’d passed out back in my room, and this was all some kind of dream.

            “A town outside of Kempt,” I hedged. In case this wasn’t a dream, the less the dragon-man knew about me, the better.

            “Which one?” he asked smoothly, as though he understood exactly what I was doing.

            “Owen’s Falls,” I admitted, feeling certain that Shal’eth would be able to tell if I lied to him. Even though I was a spy, lying was never really my thing. It was easy for me to simply blend in and go unnoticed in a sea of other names and faces.             However, Shal’eth had definitely noticed me and was now giving me his full attention–not something I was used to.

            That’s what happens when you're a bumbling idiot and interrupt a dragon at tea time! I scolded myself.

            “Owen’s Falls,” Shal’eth mused, eyes growing distant. “A humble, quiet place. So out of the way and nearly forgotten.” His gaze returned to mine. “But not by all.”

            I didn’t know what to say, so I nodded, figuring that agreeing with a dragon was always a good idea.

            “You’re here with your half-brother, are you not?”

            My jaw dropped open at the question, because Kraster and I never mentioned our family tie when we were working.

            “The man you serve, Greyward, can no longer be trusted,” Shal’eth went on, ignoring my silence. “He has given himself to something ancient and evil.”

            “What?” I gasped.

            “Have you not noticed changes in him recently?”

            “I’m– I’m not sure,” I muttered.

            “Would you believe me if I told you he is on his way here right now to massacre my people?” Shal’eth asked calmly. 

            “He would never do that,” I spluttered. “Yeah, he’s kind of a jerk sometimes. At least, he is to me, but he’d never attack a village without provocation.”

            “We shall soon see,” Shal’eth replied, eyes sliding closed in a very reptilian fashion. “I can feel him. He’s currently working to break through the barrier of protection I’ve placed around these lands to keep evil away. Once he succeeds, my people will begin evacuating to a safe place I have prepared for them.”

            Shal’eth leaned forward, making my breath hitch as his teeth got within a few feet of my face.

            “The question is, what will you do?” he asked.

            “Umm…”

            “Will you engage in slaughter and blindly follow orders? Or will you protect those who have turned their backs on you?”

            His questions were very confusing to me.

            “I would never hurt the innocent,” I said.

            Shal’eth studied me carefully. We were so close, I could have reached out and touched him. Despite this, my feelings of fear were melting away. He clearly knew quite a bit about me or was a mind reader. Something about him felt familiar, though I was sure we hadn’t met before. Even if he was in his fully mortal form, I doubted I would have forgotten him.

            “I would never hurt the innocent,” I repeated more firmly.

            He nodded slowly. “I believe you. That is why I must ask you to do something for me.”

            I hesitated and waited for him to continue.

            “I want you to go with my people,” he began. “There is one among them, a shrine maiden, who will need your protection. Her mother has already died in my service, and only she can help save the future. Protect her from Greyward and from all who mean her harm, for there will be many.”

            I stared at him as though he had– well, as though he had a dragon’s head.

            “I can’t,” I all but whispered. “I’ve taken oaths. I’m sworn to the Kempt army. I cannot betray and abandon th–”

            “Even if they have fallen under the shadow of evil?” Shal’eth interrupted me.

            I tried to speak, but no words came out.

            Shal’eth closed his eyes for a moment, then they snapped open.

            “The time has come; you must leave,” he said, rising to his feet. Even as he towered over me, I didn’t feel any fear.

            “What do I do?” I asked him, standing as well. 

            “What you know to be right,” he replied.

            Slowly, I nodded, as resolve hardened in my heart.

            “I am very sorry,” he whispered so softly I almost couldn’t make out the words.

            Just then, Mother Imin and several acolytes hurried through the curtain. A few of them gave me looks of surprise, but none stopped to speak to me. Instead, they bustled around the shrine, gathering items and stowing them in wooden chests. I narrowed my eyes as I noticed the old woman working beside them. She was walking without the use of her cane and seemed much more spry than before.

More acolytes and shrine maidens surged through the curtain. It was getting quite crowded as I pushed my way to the exit.

            Outside, the first light of dawn was touching the sky, painting the horizon blood red. The square was as busy as an ant colony. Robed figures were rushing here and there, loading carts, packing boxes, and ushering pilgrims toward a line of waiting horses.

            A hand fell on my shoulder. I whipped around to find Kraster behind me.

            “What happened?” he demanded. “You were inside for nearly an hour without a peep, then, suddenly, everyone started rushing around.”

            “They– they are about to be attacked,” I said. 

            “Attacked? By who?” Kraster wondered.

            “By Greyward, I think.” Kraster’s face fell. “Did he contact you?” I asked. 

            Kraster nodded. “He said that the teapot isn’t the relic he wants, but it is proof that what he is searching for is here. He told me he was on his way, but I don’t think he’ll attack a shrine…” 

            Kraster trailed off uncertainly. 

            “Are you sure?” I asked.

            He licked his lips, then continued. “He’s been– strange lately. Keeps talking about needing more strength, more power.”

            My heart skipped a beat.

            “What are we supposed to do?” I wondered, taking in the chaos surrounding us. “Should we help them?”

            “They’ll never escape in time,” Kraster said, looking at the two dozen wagons being quickly loaded. “Even if they make it out of the village, Greyward will catch them before they get far.”

            “Then what?” I asked softly.

            “Then, for their own sakes, I hope they give him what he’s looking for.”

            We both stood watching in silence for a moment. All the pilgrims were long gone, but the inhabitants of the village were still packing with incredible speed and coordination. I glanced to the east, squinting against the rising sun. In the distance, I could just make out a long line of dark figures on the horizon, black silhouettes against the red light.

            “Honored guests,” a voice said behind us. We turned to find Wren standing there. Her hands were clasped together, and her head was slightly bowed. “For your own safety, we must insist that you depart immediately.”

            Wren moved away to continue helping her people pack, revealing my black gelding, Tempest, and Kraster’s enormous bay, Raspberry, tied to the post in front of the inn. They were saddled, and it looked like all of our belongings had been strapped in place as well.

            I stepped forward and reached for Tempest’s reins. It took me a moment to realize Kraster hadn’t followed me. He’d gone after Wren and was speaking to her. I untied both horses and moved closer to hear what they were saying.

“But where will you go?” Kraster was asking.

            “To the new home The Great Shal’eth will provide,” Wren assured him unconcernedly.

            “I don’t think that’s going to happen,” Kraster told her. “It would be better to surrender and plead for mercy. I will speak to the general myself on your behalf.”

            Wren gave him a smile as she continued with her work of taking down the oil lamps from around the square and wrapping them in cloth curtains.

            “Thank you for your concern and your offer, but it won’t be necessary. The Great Shal’eth will save us,” Wren assured him.

            Kraster opened his mouth, but just then, The Great Shal’eth himself appeared. He left the shrine closely followed by Mother Imin, with whom he was speaking. As they moved from the shrine to the middle of the square, Shal’eth glanced directly at me. Our eyes locked for a long moment. Emotion churned in my stomach, and I knew what I was going to do.

            Kraster was staring so hard at Shal’eth that it looked like his eyes might pop out of his head. “What,” he gasped, “is that?”

The dragon-man was walking toward the center of the space in front of the shrine, fitting several golden rings onto his fingers as he went.

            “It’s The Great Shal’eth,” I hissed to my brother, forcing Raspberry’s reins into his hand.

            Kraster turned his amazed expression toward me.

            “I met him earlier and– well, he’s the one who told me about the coming attack,” I explained.

            “But what is he?” Kraster demanded more loudly than was probably polite.

            “You should be telling me,” I replied. “Didn’t you say you’d read about him in some book?”

            Kraster never responded, because at that moment, Shal’eth raised his arms in a great, sweeping motion then pulled them down before thrusting them straight forward, palms out. The rings on his hands started to glow, and a portal of glimmering teal light opened in the middle of the town square. Carts, guided by the women of Thea, started pouring through it in an orderly fashion.

            There was a shout from the distant army, and the attack trumpet was sounded. A moment later, a wave of arrows crashed into the streets. I flinched back, pulling Tempest closer to the wall of the inn for cover. Fortunately, no one was hit, but I could hear the thunder of a thousand hoofbeats.

            Since Kraster and I were posing as pilgrims, I wasn’t wearing my leather armor. I hadn’t imagined I’d need it, but then I hadn’t imagined Greyward was planning an attack either.

            I glanced to the right. The cavalry was charging, their weapons glinting in the morning light. Greyward was at the front, his sword held aloft. A knot pulled tight in my gut. I rushed to the portal, Tempest trotting behind me to keep up.

            “What are you doing?” Kraster called.

            “Come on,” I yelled back at him. “We’re going too.”

            Tempest and I reached the portal and stepped through into a woodland grove. Kraster, leading Raspberry, followed a moment later. I glanced back through the portal. A couple of stragglers hurried after us, then Shal’eth lowered his arms.             The portal started to shrink, but not before I saw the dragon-man turn to face Greyward and the onslaught of charging soldiers.