 |
emony drowsed to the slow sad song Mog coaxed from a long tin whistle. In the evenings after a meal and a long day of work, a dozen or more would gather in the yard around a fire for fellowship. She had dozed off against the big mesmer when the jug of Krytan fire water had made three turns around their circle. His brocade trimmed jacket was draped over her and if he was cold in just his blouse and vest, he made no sign. Of course, she had brought a blanket to lie upon and it was half wadded up to make a pillow. She lay there listening, wondering if the song had a name.
His song finished and he nodded his head to their scattered applause. A young Dunvael ranger rose with a fiddle which caused two more members of the circle to rise with a second fiddle and a mandolin. Within moments they were filling the evening air with the joyful sounds of the Ascalon reel. Mog put down his whistle and listened, smiling faintly as he tapped the rhythm absently on his knee.
“Welcome back, lass,” he said to her from the side of his mouth. She giggled and sat up, welcoming his paternal embrace as she snuggled against him.
“Want your jacket back?”
“T’will be wanting it soon, lass, but ye kin keep it fer now.”
“Thanks, Mog.”
Lemony sat up and donned the heavy jacket, her arms lost somewhere in its enormous sleeves and its hem falling past her knees. Mog chuckled when she rose to her feet, lost as she was in its depths. She grabbed her blanket and went to sit for a while beside Teleri. Murdi glanced at her grimly and made space for her beside his sister. Mabane sat apart from them, his eyes focused on the fire.
“We’ll find Pen,” Lemony confided in her, “Somehow he always manages to come out his scrapes alright.”
“I was cruel to him, I should have tried harder.”
His sudden loss had followed closely on the heels of Zhou’s death. Many were still in shock from the loss of their leader and their home. Pendaran’s disappearance just compounded the grief that was already there. Still, she saw a few more than normal had come to the fire and a handful were dancing on the cobbles. Dunvael, she noted, and they had plenty to be sad about with Sywno being so sick. Lemony wondered if Murdi would break his vow of silence if Pendaran never returned to grant him forgiveness.
But he would return. Surely Lyssa had not intended for him to die so soon, not after everything he had survived so far. Three days had passed since that fateful evening and they were no closer to discovering his whereabouts. The portal had swallowed him up and snapped closed behind him. Lemony prayed that he had gone somewhere safe as she glanced over at Mabane and saw grief upon his youthful face.
Uriel tapped her shoulder and she smiled up at her old friend. Squeezing Teleri’s hand once, she shed Mog’s jacket and rose, the two of them embracing. She and Ebony had been sequestered in the elder’s tent attempting simple scrying techniques to locate Pendaran. Lemony wondered if they had been successful. Gazing into the elementalist’s dusky face, she need not have asked. For all that Uriel professed a dislike for Pendaran, Lemony knew her friend did not wish him ill and had made a genuine attempt to help.
“I need you to witness something,” Uriel said quietly, trying to keep her voice down so that Teleri would not hear.
“What is it?”
“Pendaran is no longer on this plane.”
Lemony’s mouth gaped. It could not be. How could he have died?
“Zhou left me with a key to give to Pendaran if anything should happen to him. We are out of things to try. There is a strongbox among the items Zhou had moved here before the fire. I think this key belongs to it. I want you to watch me open it and record what you saw.”
“Alright,” Lemony said, swallowing her sadness.
Uriel led her to an unused tent at the far end of the yard. The others glowed with lantern light, but this one was dark and lonely on its own. Lemony sensed that had Zhou survived, it would have belonged to him. It was spacious and ornate, the red canvas painted along its edges with an interlocking pattern of squares. Uriel opened the entry flap and rummaged around in the darkness until she found a lantern and invoked fire to light it. Lemony glanced at the stacked up chests and boxes, smiling at the strong odors of camphor, resin and sandalwood that she would always associate with the gentle mesmer. She missed him terribly.
“This one,” Uriel said, pointing to a low flat metal box. She lifted it down with a grunt of effort and the two of them sat on the ground as the elementalist retrieved a golden key from a fine chain around her neck. It fit into the lock with a subtle click and the lid snapped open. The contents were hidden under a wrapping of fine black silk which Uriel drew aside carefully to reveal three books, a palm-length cloisonné encrusted box, an ornate dagger, an ivory wand with a ruby on its tip, and a gleaming chakram encrusted with gems and inscribed over its golden surface with mysterious sigils. Uriel opened each book and took a cursory glance before passing them to Lemony, unable to read the tidy rows of Canthan characters.
“Diaries,” Lemony said after handling two of them, one bound in dull black leather, the other in red, ”One is written by Zhou Li, the other by Zhou An.”
She set those aside and picked up the thickest and largest of the three. The folio was bound in smooth gray leather and she ran her hands over it before cracking it open and scanning the loosely bound pages. They were in chronological order, she decided, for the first pages were yellowed and worn while the last were pale and recently inked.
“It’s his craft book. He wrote down what he learned and described every rite and its outcome. He even drew diagrams,” she said, showing Uriel the tidy sketches, “I guess this is why he was so keen for Pen to learn how to read and write Canthan. None of it is translated.”
“I wonder what we should do with it?”
“He would probably be happy for you to put it in your academy library. At least this part of him will never die.”
Lemony’s throat tightened and she swallowed, determined not to weep. She was so weary of being sad all the time. Uriel pulled the colorful cloisonné box into the open. With great care, she prized back the lid to reveal something wrapped in black silk and a small scroll. Lemony unrolled it, reading Zhou’s flowing Tyrian script aloud.
My friend,
If you receive this, then I am most assuredly dead. This is my final request and I am depending upon you to attend to it. Please take this claw and destroy it. Shikai gave of herself to preserve me and by this claw she is bound to this plane in a form that is unnatural and painful for her. I would not have her continue to suffer for me.
If you see her, tell her I loved her and wished we could be together always. I am forever grateful.
Farewell,
Bei Zhou An
“If Pen isn’t on this plane, does that mean he’s dead or just somewhere different?” Lemony asked as she handed the scroll to Uriel.
Uriel considered this for a moment, frowning.
“I had not really thought about that. I will ask Ebony. Would you take care of this claw for me?”
Lemony nodded. She had loved Shikai almost as much as Zhou and felt sorry now that she knew the poor woman suffered to be with her beloved. Setting her free would be an honor and she had just the fire in mind.
The two of them rose. Uriel took the lantern and the strongbox containing its books and items under her arm. Lemony parted from her as they neared Ebony’s tent. She walked toward the glow of the fire and the sweet sounds of joyful fiddling and Mog’s singing.
“O Riverside lass, come out to play
I long to dance with you,
With your pearly white feet
And your lips so sweet,
And eyes of ocean blue.
I’m a scoundrel and a rambler,
So what am I to do?
If your father says no
Then I’ll have to go,
Meet in secret at half past two!
I’ll wear a coat of royal blue and a touch of Krytan lace,
When my thievin’ is done
I’ll be ready to run,
At the crossroads I will be.
Wear a red rose in your ebon locks and a roving we will go,
But if it’s of white,
Alone I’ll take flight
And ye’ll see no more of me.”
She giggled to see him winking at one of the ladies as the fiddles resumed and he danced lightly for a man of such height, stamping out the rhythm with his feet. Waiting until the song was done, she lurked at the edge of the fire, the burden of her sadness lifted for a moment as the joyful song ended. Now she opened the little cloisonné box and unwrapped the golden dragon claw, stroking its engraved surface gently.
“Good bye Master Bei and Shikai. I’ll miss you both very much.”
Screams erupted from the gathering and Lemony looked up in horror, her first thought being that something had emerged from the hall. Though they had all been assured that there was no more danger, it was difficult not to wonder where the vile bone dragon had come from with its hordes of undead. However, the outcry was directed to the far end of the yard. Already many were grabbing weapons and torches and moving slowly toward the perceived danger.
Her heart swelled with a mixture of delight and sadness. The sinuous form of a fiery red dragon pounded its wings above the yard. She hesitated to land with the gathering crowd and their unfriendly greeting. Then they saw Armand and Brigit clinging to the dragon’s silky black mane and the crowd withdrew to the courtyard’s edges, permitting the creature to land unimpeded.
“Shikai!” Lemony squealed, her voice lost above the rustle of wings as the dragon came to rest at last upon the stones.
“Greetings, Liang Meng,” the great dragon rumbled, flames licking from her mouth as she turned her gold eyes upon the monk. Abandoning all fear, Lemony rushed forward to wrap her arms around a vast expanse of the creature’s jaw, the scales warm and gleaming beneath her touch. Shikai was pressed low to the ground so that Armand and Brigit could climb from her back. Brigit laughed as Mog crushed Armand in a friendly bear hug amid the golden-haired mesmer’s angry protests.
“I was going to destroy the claw you made for Zhou. He had a letter with it and he said to tell you he loved you and was grateful,” Lemony stammered, everything coming out in one hurried breath.
“Zhou is alive, my friend, do not destroy it or we might never find him.”
Lemony almost fell over with delight.
“He’s alive?” she shrieked, then remembering herself she frowned, “Pen isn’t.”
Shikai moaned softly, her black rimmed eyes closing in sadness.
“He must be alive, it cannot be,” the dragon sighed and Lemony realized there was weariness and despair in her voice, “We need him.”
Uriel was beside her and Ebony was walking stiffly after her, the woman’s eyes bright with alarm and amazement. She bowed low.
“Elder creature, welcome.”
Lemony backed away, bumping into Mog. The big mesmer placed an arm around her shoulder as if protecting her from the dragon. Armand and Brigit stood beside him looking tired and windblown.
“Three days we have traveled,” the dragon replied, her black rimmed eyes surveying the assembled crowd, “Master Bei lives, but he is shattered and hidden. The bond he has with Pendaran would help us restore him, but it seems I have come too late.”
“Threnody tricked him!” Lemony cried in rage, “Stupid water demon made him travel away by the celestial sigil and now he is gone.”
“Then he may not be dead,” Shikai replied grimly, “and the demon who tricked him may well know where to find him.”
Ebony nodded.
“That could very well be. Our simple scrying could not reach outside of this realm. It is possible with Threnody’s help he was able to attune the sigil to take him beyond this plane.”
“Threnody?” murmured Armand, “She is a demon?”
“She is now,” the necromancer replied coldly, “You know of her?”
He nodded and Lemony noted he looked more pale than usual.
“Has she formed a bond with you? One that we could use to summon her for questioning?”
“Possibly,” Armand replied, but his expression suggested it was the last thing he wanted. Brigit clasped his hand gently, sensing his discomfort.
“I must depart,” Shikai breathed sadly, “Look for me in spring. I shall return, I hope, to better news. Farewell.”
They waved to the great dragon in awe as she rose skyward with effortless grace, her wings rustling upon the still night air as she blazed a trail of flame on her way to the stars. Lemony smiled to herself in spite of her sadness. Zhou was alive! Pen might be as well. It was just as she had said. Somehow he always managed to pull himself from the worst scrapes. With a little help from his friends of course.
“Let’s save Pen and Zhou!” Lemony announced to amused laughter.
“After some sleep and some food,” mumbled Brigit.
“And a bath,” Armand added, “A really hot bath.”
Brigit chuckled and Lemony smiled to herself as she saw Armand loop his arm around her waist. It was about time the gods found someone to love her.
<< Previous Next >>
|
