The Book of Deacon: Book 02 - The Great Convergence (2 page)

Instantly the dragon scampered off again. It
just so happened that the creature had found just such a scent in
her search for that of Lain. She maneuvered swiftly to a wide, low
opening more or less directly above Myranda's head and slipped
inside. Her head then reappeared, looking down expectantly, as
though she was surprised Myranda had failed to join her already.
The wall had countless narrow, smooth edged cracks. It was ideal
for climbing. However, the abrupt trip and its sudden and severe
end had left Myranda a less than ideal climber. More than an hour
of slow, tentative ascending had passed before she pulled herself
onto the ledge. What she found there did little to improve her
mood. The roof of the tunnel ahead was so low she would practically
have to crawl. With a heavy sigh, she set herself to the task.

Myn led the way, thrilled to finally be so
useful. Fortunately the tunnel branched several times, eventually
opening enough for a more comfortable posture. Also fortunate was
the fact that Myn had chosen a tunnel that led steadily upward. At
least if the water found its way to the tunnel, it would take
longer to reach them. Time passed slowly in the darkness of the
cave. After enough travel to sap all but the last of the strength
from her legs, Myranda began to notice the odor that had been
pungent enough for Myn to follow all of this way. It meant that
they were headed to a familiar chamber, albeit not the most
pleasant one. Sure enough, another few minutes and the pair emerged
into a chamber filled with quiet chattering and the worst of
smells. This cavern was the home to a massive colony of bats.

Much to Myranda’s dismay, her stomach growled
at the terrible stench. She was, after all, on the brink of
starvation when last she had entered this place. At the time she’d
been accompanied by Lain, and they had made a rather unpleasant
meal of some of the winged creatures. Alas, without the forethought
to bring food, Myranda hesitated to think what state she would be
in after another day of travel. Despite this, she decided that the
next meal she ate would be eaten with the sky overhead. Myn was not
so choosy, and was in the air in a flash to snatch up a few
mouthfuls, sending Myranda running for cover to escape a blizzard
of bats.

Now that they had found their way to a point
Myranda knew, she could find her own way. They walked until the
girl could no longer manage it, finally resting propped against the
wall. With the morning came two sensations, constant companions of
a traveler of the north, that she had all but forgotten during her
time in Entwell: Stinging cold and gnawing hunger. She had picked
up the habit of eating breakfast, something that no doubt had
contributed to her decision not to eat the one thing she could
manage. Were one of those bats to fly by now, she would snatch it
out of the air with her teeth, so hungry was she. At least her mind
had not been idle while she rested. The many bruises and tender
spots from the first half of the trip were healed up, the product
of her white magic training working its wonders while she slept,
though upon standing she found that she was still quite sore from
the exertion. She continued regardless. If she remembered
correctly, there was no less than another day of travel ahead of
her.

There were two significant additions to their
trip, now that she had made it this far. First, the stream that had
smoothed the floor enough to guide them during their entry had
begun to flow, providing, at least, water to drink. Second, Myn's
attitude began to lift, as she undoubtedly began to pick up the
scent of Lain. The little beast was nearly as fond of the warrior
she was tracking as she was of Myranda, motivating her all the more
to find him quickly.

The cold of the cave increased steadily as
they neared its mouth. Myranda cursed herself for not grabbing
something warmer to wear before she left. There would be many long
cold days ahead of her if she couldn't find something more suitable
for the northern weather. Worse, the tunic she wore was bright
blue. The residents of the north almost exclusively wore thick gray
cloaks. Her current outfit would stand out like a sore thumb. That
was the last thing she wanted right now.

Hour after long, weary hour passed. The
growling of Myranda's stomach fairly echoed off of the walls. Myn
seemed to take a more concerned attitude now. There was something
in the air that she did not like. Myranda marveled for a moment at
how well she could understand the thoughts and feelings of her
friend, even without words. Indeed, without sound at all. Solomon,
a small dragon in Entwell, was the only other dragon she had really
known, and he spoke both her language and one of his own, along
with no doubt countless others. Myn rarely made a sound. Myranda
frowned at the thought that, perhaps, growing up beside a human was
robbing Myn of something, some instinctive language native to her
kind.

The worrying thought was still on her mind
when, off in the distance, the faintest glow of daylight could be
seen. Myranda's heart leapt, and she would have run if she’d had
the strength. Instead she crept along at the same pace, though wary
of Myn's deepening concern. All of a sudden, Myn stopped and
absolutely would not proceed.

"What is it, Myn?" she asked.

The little dragon's body went rigid, tail
straightening and teeth baring. There was an enemy. Judging from
how protective Myn had been in the past, it might have simply been
anyone, but on this side of the mountain, anyone was as good as her
worst enemy. She doused the light and moved near to the wall,
attempting to remain unseen. Myn stalked, slowly and silently. When
the mouth of the cave was near enough, Myranda saw what Myn had
smelled. Not one but two of the Elites were standing dutifully at
the cave's mouth. Elites, after all of this time!? A contingent of
the small but legendary force of veteran soldiers had followed her
here, but that was months ago. Surely they should have given up by
now. Myranda's eyes darted about in near panic. They landed on Myn,
who seemed ready to attack.

"Myn, no," Myranda whispered insistently into
her friend's ear. "We can't. If we kill them, then when they do not
report in, their superiors will know something has happened. Why
else would Lain have left them alive? We have to get by them
somehow."

Myranda quietly wished she had just an ounce
of the stealth that Lain had. He had certainly slipped by them with
no trouble at all. Her mind turned to the spells that she had at
her disposal. No disguise would do, and she doubted that she would
be able to create one that was convincing, regardless. Invisibility
would work, but Deacon had yet to perfect it, and Myranda had been
less than successful at casting what little of it he had mastered.
She had learned sleep, but simply dropping them into
unconsciousness suddenly would be a clear indication that someone
had passed. If she was to do this, she would have to do it with
care.

Slowly, almost not at all, she passed her
influence toward them. She made their eyes just a little heavy.
With the utmost of care and restraint, she increased the spell.
Slowly, slowly, ever so slowly. She noticed one of them waver,
catching himself, and the other yawn. Slowly. One of the men moved
to the wall to lean against it. A few minutes later he slid to the
ground to sit more comfortably. The other did likewise. In a few
minutes more, the pair was asleep on opposite walls of the cave. As
far as they knew, it had been their idea.

After reminding Myn to leave them be, Myranda
walked past the unaware soldiers. Thankfully, there were no other
soldiers in sight. There was, however, a two-man tent, a pair of
horses, and a separate supply tent. Myranda peeked her head into
the supply tent to find it mounded with all sorts of rations and
equipment. The men had been stationed here for nearly half of a
year, and they were equipped for months more. She selected a coarse
brown blanket from a stack of them near the back, and one each of
the rations available, not bothering to see what precisely she was
taking. She was far more concerned with her selections escaping
notice. With the blanket wrapped around her and the supplies stowed
in her bag, Myranda stalked off into the forest, directly away from
the mouth of the cave.

Looking upon the landscape was a grim
reminder of the life she had left behind when she entered the cave.
The world was overwhelmingly white. Any color from evergreen
leaves, lichens, or sky was muted to a sterile gray by frost. The
air had a biting cold to it, one that the damp tunic and rough
blanket did little to turn away. She forced the unpleasant
sensations from her mind and quickened her pace. When she felt she
had moved far enough to avoid discovery, she cleared a patch of
ground, threw together a pile of frozen wood, and conjured a
smokeless fire. She sat cross-legged and allowed Myn to crawl onto
her lap before wrapping the blanket around the two of them.

When their combined body heat had made them
at least somewhat comfortable, Myranda pulled the spell sheet from
the bag. She held it in one hand while petting Myn with the other.
The dragon’s skin and scales felt more leathery than usual, and she
had noticed that the little creature had a dingier color, but she
could not waste any thoughts on that now. She had to focus on the
spell. The black letters on mahogany paper were barely visible in
the light of the fire, but her eyes adjusted as the sun's light
crept from the sky. Deacon had, alas, not cast a translation spell
on this page, so she was left to her own knowledge to decipher it.
While she had at least a loose understanding of the spoken
languages of Entwell, the written ones had never been explained.
This page, mercifully, must have been one of the few written by
someone besides Deacon, because it was all in one language. Deacon
had a mismatched patchwork language he tended to use when writing
that took an expert to follow. Myranda wondered if perhaps that was
the language he spoke when she was not around. Regardless, the
spell seemed to be in the same alphabet as Northern. That at least
would allow her to speak the words. Perhaps then she could
understand them. She spent a fair part of the night sifting through
the procedures described in the page until a particularly loud
growl in her stomach actually woke Myn.

"I suppose I ought to eat and continue in the
morning," she spoke quietly to her companion.

Myn seemed to want to get out from the
blanket and retrieve a meal for her friend personally, but when she
ventured a claw out into the bitter cold, she changed her mind and
retreated back to beneath the covers. The rations in Myranda's bag
were many and varied. A rock hard biscuit of some kind. Some salted
meat. Dried fruit!? Myranda had heard that the best food was set
aside for the troops, but aside from the apple that she had grown
herself, the closest thing to fruit that she had seen in years was
the awful wine that taverns served. That, she decided, would be for
a special occasion. She chose some of the biscuit, ate it quickly,
and propped herself against a tree to drop off to sleep.

In the morning she woke and returned
immediately to her task. Myn slipped from her blanket, stretched,
and trotted off to get her own breakfast while Myranda gnawed on
more of the biscuit. Myn returned with a rabbit and dropped it in
front of Myranda. She prepared it as best she could. When she was
through eating, Myn snapped up the rest. Myranda deciphered more of
the spell. It seemed that when she cast it, the item used to track
the person in question would be drawn toward them. The strength of
the attraction would indicate their distance. The duration would
change depending in the will of the target. Myranda stood and
removed the tooth from her neck. She held it by the strings in one
hand and held her staff in the other. The spell was small but
complex. She tried several times to cast it, with her final attempt
prompting a tiny tug to the southwest. It wasn't much, but it was a
start. Myranda wrapped the blanket about her shoulders, stowed the
spell, donned the tooth, and moved to the southwest.

As days of walking passed and Myranda's
stolen rations began to run low, she began to wonder what she was
thinking. She couldn't enter a town with Myn, and the dragon simply
would not leave her side. She could make do with the meals Myn
brought her when the food ran out, but sooner or later she would
need warmer clothes at the very least. Even if she could convince
Myn to wait while she entered a town to do business, she had no
money, and no way to get any. She remembered Lain's words. He had
spoken of her as a creature of cities and roads, while he was of
forests, mountains, and plains. Well, now she too was out of place
in the world of humans. All the better, though. If this was where
Lain was to be found, then it was where she must be.

Nearly a week of southward travel had led her
to be comfortable with the sounds of the woods while she slept,
though when a snowfall came she missed her hood. Each morning she
checked Lain's location with the spell. She knew that he would be
traveling by night while she traveled during the day. This way, at
least, he would not be moving when she cast the spell. It was
becoming easier. He was getting closer. She had been heading almost
due south for the last few days. Lain had likely been keeping to
the edge of the woods to remain unseen. Now, though, she checked to
find that he was due west of her, traveling across the open
plains.

Looking out across the plain, Myranda saw a
thin, sparsely wooded area off in the distance. It was a bit less
than half of the way between herself and the edge of Ravenwood, the
massive western forest that was still visible at the base of the
mountains on the horizon. The dangling tooth pointed her to the
trees as they rustled with a stiff and constant breeze in the
distance. Thus, she proceeded in that direction, carefully scanning
for anyone who might spot her. For once she was glad that the
plains of the north were almost deserted. She hurried across the
field as quickly as she could. As she did, she wondered why no
roads led through this plain. There were at least five small towns
nearby, yet the nearest road ran far to the west and circled
completely around the plain to reach the furthest of the towns. A
second road through this place would cut the travel time in
half.