The Book of Deacon (31 page)

His words were tinged with anger. It added a
new quality to his voice, something vaguely familiar. Myranda was
struck to the core by his words. Partially because they were so
harsh. Partly because they were so true. She did protect herself
from those around her. She had ever since she was a child. The only
way to be sure no one learned of her feelings on the war was to
keep them at arm's length. A part of her isolation was choice.

"I am sorry if my words hurt you, but . . . I
just need silence right now," Leo said, less an apology and more a
warning. He seemed not to be in control of his emotions, as though
something had a hold over him.

A few moments passed. Leo stopped suddenly
and shuffled to a wall, putting an ear to it.

"Leo," she said.

He clenched his fists and whipped his head
around, sudden fury seizing him.

"What
now!?"
he raged.

The final word echoed off of the walls
relentlessly. The echoes drove into Myranda's mind, stirring her
thoughts. That word. That voice. She knew them. The echoes
continued. A dark, painful memory emerged. It couldn't be.

"You . . . you were there . . . at the church
. . ." she said, detached.

"What are you saying?" he demanded.

She remembered the voice behind her. The
voice of the one holding a blade to her throat as she was sent away
from the church all of those months ago.

"The church! Where I was kidnapped! You stole
the sword
!
You
killed
those
soldiers!
Who
are you really!?" she realized.

As if as an answer, the mountain began to
rumble and roar. It was deafening. A rush of icy air swept past
them.

"Not now!
Not
now!"
he cried, launching himself into a run.

Myn looked anxiously to Myranda. Between the
roar of the mountain and the flaring tempers, she was beside
herself. Myranda sprinted off after the fleeing malthrope. For once
she would not be distracted, no matter the madness that raged about
her. The steep, slippery tunnel soon betrayed her as she lost her
footing and began to slide. Myn's claws clacked at the floor as she
struggled to keep pace with the now helpless human. After a few
moments, Myranda splashed down into a numbingly cold pool of
thrashing water. The dragon joined her in the pool, unable to stop
quickly enough to avoid it. The beast managed to keep the torch she
had taken to carrying dry, and leapt out of the water. Leo was
waist deep in the icy stuff.

"Answer me! I want to know the truth!"
Myranda demanded.

"You want the truth? Fine! This torrent of
frigid water is rushing in through our only means of escape. We
spent the better part of three days getting through this cave, and
the water will fill half of it within the hour. If we stay or flee,
we die. If we swim, we
may
survive," he said.

The reality of the situation swept over
Myranda as powerfully as the water threatened to.

"How do I know I can trust you?" she
asked.

"You don't. I've kept you alive this far. Now
you have to decide," he said, diving into the churning pool.

Myranda cast a nervous glance at the very
anxious Myn.

"He is not getting away that easily," she
decided.

She dove into the water after him, with Myn
reluctantly following. The dragon hated the cold, but was
determined not to leave her friend's side.

Myranda wrestled her eyes open. The water was
so cold, it stung her unmercifully, and the sound of the rushing
water filled her head. Leo was disappearing into the eerie light of
the submerged tunnel. She fought the astounding current, clinging
to the slick as ice walls with fingers that had lost their feeling
after just a few heartbeats in the water. Wavelike swishing motions
of Myn's tail surged her forward until she was able to grip the
roof with her claws. Neither girl nor dragon could make any
headway. Every ounce of effort went to maintaining their position.
A slight ripple in the rocky tunnel was enough to keep Myranda from
sliding back, but Myn was not so lucky.

The dragon scratched desperately at the wall
of the tunnel. She was losing the fight, flailing and slipping
backward. Myranda took one hand away from its grip to guide the
beast to the hand hold. Now with a firm grip, the two began to
slowly pull themselves forward. Leo's form was barely visible
ahead, pulling himself along in much the same way. Just ahead of
him was the edge. Beyond that there was only light. Daylight.

As the girl and the dragon neared the
opening, the current intensified. Myranda's chest heaved as her
lungs begged for air. She reached out, managing to grasp the
rounded edge of the opening with one hand. With the other, she
grabbed the claw of her friend. In a final flurry of effort, she
pulled the two of them into the light. The current split at the
opening, half flowing into the tunnel, the rest fanning out along
the wall the tunnel emerged from.

The latter current caught them, sweeping the
pair forcefully along the wall just as Myranda's breath gave out.
Spent air burst from her lips and a desperate, raking breath pulled
in a lungful of frigid water. She convulsed as she smashed into the
rocky edge of the pool. Darkness was closing in about her as she
felt a pair of hands grip her arm and drag her from the pool.

A series of painful coughs spewed the water
from her lungs and she gulped gratefully at the fresh air. Her
vision was a swirl of indistinct forms as she was helped to her
feet.

"Myn!" she managed. "Myn!"

She could feel the shivering beast brush
weakly against her before dropping to the dry ground. Myranda was
vaguely aware of being led along. Somehow she was on her feet,
shuffling with a strong arm supporting her. She was barely
cognizant of her own movement. Her helper lowered her to a seat and
a blanket was thrown about her shoulders. The shapes that swept
before her eyes were clearing. Before long she recognized a hand.
She raised her eyes and struggled to focus on the face. Her hearing
was nearly as poor as her sight, the roaring water still ringing in
her ears. Mingled with the sound of water was a periodic sound she
couldn't identify.

As she tried to steady herself, she realized
that the sharp, grating noise she was hearing was her own coughing.
When she finally calmed herself and her senses returned to her, she
looked to her anonymous helper. He was a young man, about her age,
with brown hair and a gray tunic. A sturdy messenger bag hung over
his shoulder. He was checking her eyes and spouting phrases in a
variety of languages. Eventually he struck the correct one.

"Are you warm enough?" he asked.

Myranda nodded.

"Where are the others?" she asked.

"Ah, so you have a tongue, and a northern one
at that. Excellent, one of my favorites. The dragon that came with
you is sleeping over yonder, and the malthrope has requested to be
cared for in one of our cleric huts," he said.

"What happened?" she asked.

"You made it through the cave. You also made
it through the waterfall, which may be unprecedented. I will look
into it," he said.

"What is this place?" she asked, looking
around. Her eyes had not recovered enough to make out her
surroundings.

"My, so full of questions," he said. "Though
after the ordeal you've been through, I suppose you've earned a
few. This is Entwell Num Garastra. In the northern tongue, that
translates to . . . the stomach--no, the belly of the beast," he
said.

"What!?" she gasped.

"Oh, my heavens, I am sorry. It's just a
name. No cause for fear. I'll explain later. Suffice to say you
have discovered our village. It is a place of learning. We exist to
acquire, improve, and impart knowledge," he explained.

"I'm not sure I understand," she said.

"You will. All in time," he said. "My name is
Deacon. And you are?"

"Myranda," she said.

He held out his hand. She shook it, but he
pulled away quickly and began riffling through a bag that hung at
his side.

"You are cold as death. Excellent! Hold out
your hand," he said, revealing a perfectly smooth, palm-sized,
egg-shaped crystal.

"What? Why? What is going on?" she asked.

"Open your hand. I am merely going to
temporarily manipulate certain physical attributes of your body
tissues so as to facilitate the timelier introduction of
appropriate heat levels than nature would generally allow," he said
in a bewildering flurry of logic.

While Myranda was still trying to sort
through his words, he placed the crystal in her hand. He then
closed her hand around it and clasped his hands over hers. A flash
of light shined through her fingers and a mild glow spread up her
arms and through her body. It was accompanied by a curious
sensation, or more accurately, a lack thereof. Everywhere the light
touched was restored to normal. Cold became comfortable, numb
became normal, and nowhere in between. There was no feeling of
warmth, no tingling, simply an instantaneous return to normal. A
second streak of light swept over her clothes, drying them.

"There," Deacon said. "How do you feel?"

As she began to answer, he scrambled to draw
a thick, leather-bound book from his bag and began marking down all
that she said with a stylus he had perched behind his ear.

"I feel fine," she said.

"No excessive heat? And tactile
sensation--normal? Excellent, excellent," he said.

"What did you do?" she asked.

"The procedure is quite simple. It has
escaped common use because the techniques it entails are not
generally associated with white magic," he said. "You seem tired.
Are you?"

"Very," she said.

"That is not a side effect I had anticipated.
Perhaps . . ." he began.

"I don't think your spell is to blame. I
haven't slept in more than a day," she said.

"Oh, well, yes. That would explain it," he
said. "I can find you a soft bed and some fresh clothes if you
like."

"You can?" Myranda said.

"Oh, yes. All of the amenities," he said with
a chuckle. "Follow me."

She stood, but woozily stumbled. Deacon was
quick to lend his arm to steady her. As the pair moved away from
the deafening falls, Myranda gained her first clear look at the
place she had been striving to reach for the past few days.
Stretching out before her, nestled in the shadow of the cliffs
towering behind, was a small village. The houses were simple huts
with thatched roofs. The perfect little buildings with the rosy sky
behind them looked more like a painting than someplace that might
actually exist. There was no snow on the ground. Much to her
surprise, the gravelly ground surrounding the falls gave way to
emerald green grass.

As if this did not distinguish this village
enough, the hamlet was alive with activity. Here was a young man
sitting under a tree, there a trio of older men and women in a
heated discussion. Birds, butterflies, and even what she swore was
a tiny, winged person fluttered by. There were representatives from
a myriad of races. Elves, dwarfs, humans--all in the open and
interacting. It was a surreal sight, and Myranda was entranced. It
was as though she was seeing life as it should be for the first
time. Her trance was broken when Deacon was knocked forcefully to
the ground. She turned to see Myn standing atop the fallen
helper.

"Myn! No, he is helping me!" she scolded.

The dragon was reluctant to release Deacon,
her teeth bared and dripping.

"I am sorry, little lady. I did not realize
you were awake. I would have asked your permission, I assure you,"
Deacon said, chuckling as he got to his feet.

He drew his crystal and healed several places
where the little dragon's claws met their mark.

"Are you all right?" Myranda asked.

"Fine, fine. It was my fault. I know how
attached dragons get. Had I been thinking, I would have made my
intentions clear," he said, casting another spell to mend holes
torn in the fabric of his tunic.

"How do you know so much about dragons?" she
asked.

"Solomon taught me," he said, carefully
allowing the still agitated dragon to wedge herself between himself
and Myranda.

"He knows about dragons?" she asked.

"He
is
a dragon," he said. "When you feel up to it, I'll
introduce you. He is a very enlightening fellow."

Before long, they came upon a hut on the edge
of the village. It was just like any of the others, and appeared as
though it had never been used. He opened the door and led her
inside. There were two rooms. One had a bed, the other a few
chairs, a table, and a number of shelves.

"This will be your hut. Equip it as you
will," he said.

"You mean, I may live here? This hut will be
mine? Just like that?" she said.

"Of course. You made it through the cave. You
are one of us. We always keep one hut empty to house the next
adventurer to make the trek. We hadn't anticipated three at once.
Work on the other huts will begin first thing tomorrow," he
said.

"Where will Leo sleep?" she asked.

"Leo is your vulpine friend, I presume. He
will be spending a day or two in the cleric's hut. What happened to
him? I heard a bit of the chatter when they were hauling him out of
the water and it seems he has been mangled physically and
spiritually. It is going to take some of our best healers to untie
the knots," he said. "As for Myn here, I am sure we can make some
arrangements for her, too . . ."

"Oh, she sleeps beside me," Myranda said.

"Are you certain?" he asked.

"Since she was hatched," Myranda assured
him.

"Oh, all right then," he said, eyebrow
raised.

"Why?" she asked.