Redemption Of The Sacred Land (Book 3) (6 page)

“Forgive me, but I will not be addressing you as my lord, or any other title. You have yet to convince me of your good intentions.” She took Bren’s pipe from him and sniffed the bowl before handing it back to him. “Is it the tabac?” Tatrice caught an almost imperceptible flash of anger from Toborne, but he recovered before she could be sure.

“Such mistrust and paranoia. The tabac is simply tabac with a hint of vanilla from the elves of Darovan. The southern Adracorians grow this tabac with great pride and tradition. There was no tampering with it from my end, I assure you.”

“Why do I get the feeling you are harmless when I know you are not? I saw you at Brightonhold. I saw you steal the Silver Drake. I saw you send two black dragons after Ianthill, Dorenn, and Gondrial.”

“You have a grand memory, my dear, but your facts are not entirely accurate. I sent the dragons to protect the Silver Drake. I stole nothing from my brothers.” He called out toward the wooden door. “Dear, we have guests in here, you may remember. Why don’t you join us?” There was no answer. “Sylvalora?”

The wooden door opened, and out stepped a woman with blonde hair and twinkling blue eyes. She wore the blue dress Tatrice had seen Sylvalora wear, but this woman looked nothing like the elf maiden Tatrice remembered. “Tatrice, how wonderful it is to see you.”

Tatrice scowled. “I don’t know you! Who are you supposed to be?”

“It’s me, Sylvalora. I used to look like an elf maiden, I know. It’s supposed to be a gift from the gods. Every time I take the form of the Silver Drake, I return to a different visage. I will return to the elf maiden form again someday.”

“You remind me of someone I know, familiar somehow, but I don’t believe for one moment you are Sylvalora.”

The woman took Tatrice’s hand in her own and looked at her imprint. Tatrice tried to pull back, but the woman gently persisted. “In Cedar Falls, at the bathhouse, Lady Shey and I advised you to marry for love, to marry because you felt that it’s right, not because it is expected of you.”

“I certainly failed to heed that advice!”

“Did you?” She looked at Bren, who had a hurt expression. “He unquestionably loves you.”

Tatrice met Bren’s gaze. For the first time, she let herself feel his love without immediately turning her thoughts to Dorenn. “No, this is a trick. The tabac makes everything seem happy and safe. You are not Sylvalora; she is an elf. You are manipulating my feelings, my thoughts.”

“I am Sylvalora,” the woman insisted.

“Then tell me my mother’s name. My father once told me that they were married at court in front of the Silver Drake. You would know her name. Tell me.”

“Why would your father keep her name from you?”

Tatrice lowered her head and looked at her hands. “He loved her but couldn’t bare talking about her. He told me her name once, when I was small, but I am ashamed to say I have forgotten it. He would get so upset talking about her, I never asked him again. I would know it if I heard it.”

“Are you sure you are ready to learn such knowledge?”

“Aye. I’m ready.”

Toborne stood from his chair and put his hand on Sylvalora’s shoulder. “I don’t think that would be wise. Besides, knowing her mother’s name will not prove to the girl that you are Sylvalora.”

Sylvalora gave Tatrice a sympathetic stare. “I disagree. I think it would prove it to her. Your mother still lives, and I think it would be better if she were to tell you. It is tragic that you don’t know your mother and your sister doesn’t know your father.”

“My sister. I have a sister?” Tatrice stood up.

“You do have an older sister, aye. And your mother’s name is Valloney, just like your mid name.”

Tatrice contemplated what she was hearing. “Toborne was right. I can’t trust anything you say to be true. You can’t prove who you are to me with words. My mother, my sister, it could be all a ruse to manipulate me for all I know.”

“How may I convince you, then?”

Tatrice suddenly saw an opportunity. “Prove it. Change into the Silver Drake.”

“If I do, I will not return to the visage of the elf maiden. I will look like someone else.”

“That matters little to me. Once I see the Silver Drake, I will know you speak the truth.”

Sylvalora backed away from Tatrice and began to change form.

Toborne put down his pipe on the reeve’s desk. “No, Sylvalora!”

Tatrice reacted instinctively. She seized the Silver Drake as soon as she changed form and pointed the living statue at Toborne. “You get back!”

The Silver Drake screeched.

“Silver Drake, I direct you now. Break the spell of whatever it is in this room that is fogging our minds,” Tatrice commanded.

“I wouldn’t do that, fair Tatrice,” Toborne warned.

“Aye, you would!”

“Listen to me, she doesn’t like to be told how to use her magic. Believe me, I have been at this far longer than you. Direct commands are not good.”

The Silver Drake pulled herself from Tatrice’s grasp and turned on her. The drake let out a deafening screech.

“You see. She isn’t exactly pleasant in this form,” Toborne said as he moved to stand behind the high back of the chair. “The Silver Drake is a creature of free will. I would suggest you ask her nicely to return to the form of Sylvalora, and swiftly.”

Tatrice quickly realized she did not have the situation in hand. “Please, Silver Drake, I believe you. Let me talk to Sylvalora, please.”

The Silver Drake screeched, and Tatrice dropped it. The living statue landed on the floor and began to change, returning to the appearance of a woman. This time, she had raven black hair and sapphire blue eyes.

“Forgive me, dear, the Silver Drake and I are two sides of the same coin. I am very different in that form, which is why I choose not to stay in it,” she said.

“Sylvalora?”

“Aye, it is me.”

“But you look just like an older Lady Shey now.”

“No dear, Lady Shey looks like a younger me.” She went to the nearest window to look at her reflection. “Aye, this is how I looked when I gave birth to her.”

“Lady Shey?”

Sylvalora turned to Toborne. “Why is that always the reaction?”

“It is the price of revealing secrets, my dear.” He picked back up his pipe and went back to his chair. “Allow me,” he said. “Sylvalora is a living, breathing woman. The goddess of life, Loracia, gifted the Silver Drake with life. She is as much a woman as you are.”

“She is more than that; she is the matron of dragons,” Bren stated, and bowed before her. “Fawlsbane’s gift to the Silver Drake. She is the revered one of the dragons.”

Tatrice stood before Sylvalora, stunned. “Why reveal all this now?”

“Well, I see we have much to discuss,” Bannon said. “We might as well retire to my living quarters, and I will have my servant cook us a meal.”

Sylvalora winked, and Tatrice had to blink to make sure she saw it.
Just go along with everything I tell you and be strong
, Tatrice heard Sylvalora say in her head, but the woman did not actually speak.

“Come along, Tatrice,” Sylvalora said. “We will talk over the meal.”

Tatrice followed Sylvalora through the wooden doorway.

Chapter 4: The Promise of Spring

Sanmir signaled for Trendan to follow. He crossed the dark, dank corridor toward the more secluded cells of the dungeon. Trendan hoped Sanmir knew where he was going this time. He had already gotten them lost twice. It seems from when he spent time here at Lux Enor until the present day, some changes had been performed on the castle dungeons. This far underground, even the guards were loath to patrol, so Trendan was relatively sure they would not be detected. The stench was a bit unbearable, though. Some of the prisoners this far down were probably left to die rather than kept fed. It would make sense that Naneden would want to imprison Kimala down in this part of the prison. It would be a cruel fate worse than a quick death. On the other hand, she was nowhere to be found. Maybe he disposed of her to be rid of her. “Sanmir, are you sure he didn’t just execute her?” Trendan whispered.

“It’s not his style. An execution is simple and painless. Naneden likes to make his enemies suffer and linger on. He will most likely have her tortured when he gets around to it.”

“There are not many people I wish ill upon, but he is definitely one of them.”

“He wasn’t always that way. I knew him when he was still an apprentice. He used to be as noble and kind as you, Trendan.”

“I find that extremely hard to believe. What happened to him?” Trendan asked.

“Madness. Something made him lose his mind. It didn’t happen all at once. It was a slow, painful ordeal. A very sad affair. Ah, here we are.” Sanmir pointed ahead. “The lower fifth, the most detestable dungeon ever built.” He took down one of the snuffed-out torches. With a flick of his wrist, a flame danced across his finger and engulfed the torch. “Follow closely now. There is no telling what might be lurking down here in the lower fifth. Some say it is haunted and guarded by the same kind of spirits that used to roam Signal Hill in Symboria.”

“Oh joy. My friends have run into those abominations before.”

“Aye, I heard about your friends foray into Signal Hill.

A low moan emanated from the darkness in the corridor ahead. Both Sanmir and Trendan instantly started communicating with hand signals; Sanmir motioning for them to investigate the noise. Trendan nodded. They stalked silently down the corridor as the sound of the moaning increased in loudness. To Trendan’s ears, it sounded masculine. He was worried it might not be Kimala.

They followed the sound until they came to a dark cell. Trendan recognized the thin, feminine arms held in shackles and raised above her head, which was still obscured in darkness. It was Kimala.

Sanmir rushed to her, and Trendan was not far behind. “Here, grab her by the waist and hold her up so I can get some slack on those shackles,” Sanmir instructed. Trendan complied.

Sanmir tried to pick the locks for several moments but failed.

“Metal is earthen; can’t you just command them to twist off or something?”

“Not without twisting her hands off too. Metal is difficult to break and easy to twist.” He stopped out of frustration before leaning in to whisper in Kimala’s ear. “Forgive me for this, dear lady.”

“No,” Kimala said weakly, but Sanmir was already whispering magic commands. Tongues of fire began leaping from his fingertips and connecting with the metal of the shackles. After a few moments, they were red hot. Flesh burned and sizzled, causing a sickly, putrid smell. Kimala whimpered, too weak to cry out. Sanmir reached up and pulled the metal apart like taffy candy. As soon as he had Kimala to the floor, he scraped up the dirt and dust, covered her burned hands, and began his whispering again. The dirt transmuted into a yellow salve. Kimala was still moaning from the pain, but Trendan could tell by her feeble gasps she had little need to continue.

“Naneden will know,” she whispered.

“Naneden will know what?” Trendan asked.

“Naneden will know someone is touching
his
woman.”

“Pay no attention. She is delirious,” Sanmir said.

Naneden abruptly appeared from the darkness. “I will have you both executed!”

Without hesitation, Sanmir grabbed ahold of both Trendan’s and Kimala’s arms with each of his hands, and they all three passed through the stone floor as if they fell through water. All three fell into the cell directly below the one in which they found Kimala. Trendan examined the iron grate. “This cell is locked. We are trapped in here.”

Sanmir looked at him as if he were a begging village idiot. “Come back here.”

“He wasn’t real,” Kimala tried to say, but it came out in hesitations. “It was an illusion of Naneden. I don’t have control.”

“Sshhh, Kimala, don’t speak.”

Trendan shook his head. “Sorry, Sanmir. I don’t think I will ever get used to magic. It just felt like we fell through a pool of water. I didn’t even think.”

“Will you listen to me?” Kimala rasped.

“Aye, my lady, I hear you, but I am more concerned about getting out of here than some illusion of Naneden.” Sanmir held her hands reassuringly. “This time, the trip will be a bit longer, so hold your breath.” He picked up Kimala into his arms. “All right, Trendan, grab ahold of my arm, and whatever you do, don’t let go, or you will be stuck permanently in stone forever. I will be moving at a good pace. Walk with me and don’t trip or again, you will be lost.” Trendan nodded and drew a deep breath. “And close your eyes. Short trips won’t hurt them, but longer stone walks can blind you.” A moment later, the three of them disappeared into the stone wall.

Trendan felt like he was trying to walk through dense water. He resisted opening his eyes and just trusted Sanmir to lead them through. Occasionally he could feel a harder pull on his shoulder or leg, and he surmised it was due to walking through denser stone. He was relieved when they finally emerged into one of the upper corridors of the dungeon.

Sanmir propped Kimala up against the corridor wall. “Are you all right?” he asked Trendan, who was breathing heavily.