The Gems of Raga-Tor (Elemental Legends Book 1) (40 page)

Eris stared at it not quite sure what to do next, when he heard Raga’s voice shouting to him.

“Eris, don’t move! It only wants to see who you are. Don’t move against it,” Raga warned.

That was easier said than done. The horse was on the verge of bolting again, and so was he. In his ears he heard his heart pounding and the blood coursing though his veins. With great effort, he kept the hand not wrapped by the leather reins clenched, white-knuckled, around the saddle horn. He desperately wanted to feel the security of steel in his hand, but dared not. The horse whinnied in fear and stamped the ground.

“Easy, easy,” Eris said quietly and hoped the beast would stand still.

Raga watched the encounter with more than a little unease, as the Warder Mist and Eris seemed to face each other in a battle of wills. Lightning streaked and crackled overhead. The horse backed toward the cliff, prancing closer and closer toward the edge. Raga wasn’t sure how far the drop might be, as these things never seemed to be the same way twice. He saw Eris squeeze the sides of the beast with his legs trying to coax the animal to move forward, but it would not. He turned to see how close he was to the edge. Raga saw him make his decision as the coil of leather swiftly unwrapped from his hand and he made a move to dismount. Before his foot left the stirrup, the Warder Mist suddenly expanded and swallowed man and beast in its shimmering folds.

Raga let out a sigh and hung his head all the while wishing the mist would have just minded its own business. But this Warder Mist, and several others very similar to it, was a law unto itself and it would do as it pleased. Raga had never known them to be unjust in their judgments, but none of them would have to spend the rest of the day looking for Tas-Moren’s avatar with a raging madman by its side.

Raga waited where he was and finally the Mist approached with Eris and the horse still locked inside its shimmering center. He waited for the mist to talk to him, but it was silent. Eris’ dark silhouette appeared as the mist slowly moved away and quickly dropped out of sight over the precipice. The horse whickered, when it saw its companion, but Eris' eyes were closed and he seemed to be asleep.

“Eris, wake up. The Warder Mist has left you,” Raga said, quietly. He gave his shoulder a quick shake, but he didn’t waken. Raga reached over and took the reins. At least the horse was calm and came along peacefully.

Eris heard Raga’s voice as a far-off whisper, but the words were difficult to understand. Try as he might, he couldn't open his eyes. They just wanted to be closed and rest. He felt his body tense and rigid, and it didn't want to move. It was as if he was separated mind from body and just couldn’t quite put the two back together. He felt the presence of the Warder Mist leave him, but where did it leave him? How did he get back to where he was physically and why had it intentionally left him in this void of heightened consciousness? He tried to see, but felt as though a white veil, a white shroud, had been wrapped over his face to keep out the world. A shroud? It was odd that that word came to mind. He thought again about the smell of death that hung around him. This wasn’t death. It was something different.

“Eris.”

The voice flashed like a beacon and suddenly he saw the path between dream and wakefulness. As he had done with Raga and the mind bond, he imagined himself moving to the point of light. It flickered once or twice and then went out and he felt himself falling, tumbling forward. The white mist thinned. He saw that he was somehow in the sky and falling to the red ground below.

He saw himself seated on his horse with Raga leading them along. It had to be a crazy dream, or some madness that had overtaken him, but it seemed too real. He felt that how he had come to be this way was out of his control, but that he had the power, some hidden knowledge within himself to put things right. Another tumble disoriented him for a moment and then he stretched his arms, as any bird would have. Balance and control came to him as he directed his thoughts to the form sitting atop the horse. He heard himself gasp as the ethereal combined with the corporeal.

Raga heard him as well. He turned just in time to see Eris become limp and fall forward over the neck of his horse. Quickly, he reached over and grabbed his arm before he slid off the other side. He held him there for nearly a league as Eris sometimes mumbled incoherently, but couldn’t seem to muster any strength in his body.

Raga was growing concerned, when he felt Eris’ arm move and his hand made a sloppy attempt to grab a handful of the horse’s mane. He released the few strands he held and tried again with better success.

“What happened?” Eris mumbled, as he pushed himself into a sitting position. Now both hands grasped handfuls of mane to keep his balance.

“The Warder Mist came upon you,” Raga answered slowly. A confused, vacuous expression lingered on Eris’ face.

That much he could almost remember. He had decided to get off the panicked horse, and then everything went white and disoriented.

“I’ve been gone so long…I think. But where? I heard your voice so…so far away and flowing in the white mist,” Eris said confused. His left hand reached up and massaged his temple. He still had trouble focusing his thoughts and controlling his body. It would be all too easy for the specter of death to find him now.

“Don’t try to understand,” Raga said. “You’ll be fine in a while. Just be glad the Warder Mist let you stay.”

Eris nodded and grasped the mane a little tighter as Raga urged the horses down a faint, winding trail through a narrow gully that opened out into a flat valley that stretched to the horizon. The valley floor was made of red, hard-packed dirt and clay studded with mounds of granite boulders that didn’t seem to fit. It was as if they had been placed here and there to relieve the valley of its desolation. The horses plodded on, their heads drooping sullenly in complaint at being forced to travel through this forbidden land with no blue sky or pasture in sight.

“Damned sorcery!” Eris swore suddenly and Raga jumped. His cognition roared back to life. He bolted up straight and grabbed the reins out of Raga’s hands. “I knew I should never have come here. Between you and that mist tampering with my mind, I’m probably a raving madman by now only I just don’t know it.”

“Everything’s fine. Just calm down—”

“Don’t you dare tell me to calm down. What would have happened to me if I hadn’t heard your voice? It could have been days before I found my way back. Who am I fooling? It could have been months, or centuries. I could have come back to a moldering corpse blowing away bit by bit in this desert. Gods how I hate deserts!” Eris swore vehemently.

“Now isn’t the time or the place for this. It’s too dangerous,” Raga cautioned.

Eris turned a malignant stare to Raga. In his eyes there was no mercy, no quarter. There was no room for explanation or appeasement. There was only rage and hatred and beneath it all the driving, relentless fear of things he did not understand.

Unable to bear the force of that glare that suddenly seemed to have a tangible quality, Raga turned away. He doubted anyone could bear it. Even so, it still amazed him that Eris could be filled with such a rage and yet not lash out and destroy everything around him. It spoke of the hard discipline he forced on himself and Raga yet wondered how long he could control it before it would break loose into a murderous, destructive rage.

Raga wondered if some part of the destroyed demon-god had embedded itself inside Eris, but he didn’t realize it and it only emerged at times like this. It made sense, and would at least partially explain the reason for Riza’s subtle presence in him. It wasn’t a pleasant thought. Pieces of demons were almost as hard to get rid of as the whole thing, sometimes.

“Too dangerous!” Eris snorted suddenly. “There is your damned penchant for understatement. Just knowing your name is dangerous enough for most men let alone having had to follow you around the earth these many months. And when this is over, don’t you ever, ever, come looking for me again. I don’t care the reason. I’m finished with this business of you and me.”

Raga said nothing and didn’t even bother to nod or acknowledge that Eris had said anything. What was the use? In the time from Morengoth until now, Raga had thought, or perhaps it was only a foolish hope, that they had become lesser enemies. That perhaps there had been a ray of friendship. He certainly didn't realize that Eris still regarded him with such vehement contempt as when they had first met in Rennas Baye. It shocked and saddened him at the same time. He had hoped to find in Eris an ally of sorts who respected him for what he was, and who did not fear him or seek to gain power from him by exploiting some need for friendship that Raga, now painfully, realized he had. He knew Eris no longer feared him, but rather hated him with everything that he was. Of that, there was no doubt.

Raga breathed heavily as he scanned the valley for any sign of a monument or some other structure that would indicate the location of the yellow gem. Perhaps, when this was over, he would remain in the Vale and leave mortal men to their own devices. It was a wearisome task trying to find one amongst the multitudes to call friend. A sorcerer, especially a first-level elemental as he was, found it difficult to keep any relationship with his fellow elementals, as many of them were an unsavory lot. Again, he realized Eris was correct about that as well. But, he recalled, he was on good terms with Beku-Tor, first-level elemental of earth and hadn’t seen him for quite some time. Perhaps it was time for a visit.

As the horses plodded on league after league, Eris remained silent and Raga mused at all of the dealings he had had with mortal men. How, over the long centuries of his existence, men had kept him around only as long as he served a purpose and they could use him for his enormous powers to serve their greedy ends. He always fell for their deceptions and promises and in the end was left with nothing. The difference this time was that Eris wanted nothing except that he went away forever.

“Look yonder, sorcerer,” Eris said, startling Raga from his melancholy. “What do you think it is?”

Raga squinted against the glare of an invisible sun. He wasn’t able to distinguish anything for sure.

“It could be just another pile of rocks. I can’t tell,” Raga said quietly. Not even the possibility of the gem being nearby dispelled his gloom.

“I don’t think so. Look, where I am pointing. Something is making flashes of light. Almost like the sun shining on polished shields,” Eris said. The heated fury was gone from his voice, but a distant coldness remained.

“I don’t recall the Vale having any kind of cast-metal statues or anything,” Raga said with a shrug.

“It could be the avatar. I certainly have never seen one. Have you?”

“No, but even if I had, it wouldn’t make any difference. They are as different as the gods they represent. I didn’t think to ask Morengoth what he thought his god looked like,” Raga answered.

“Nor did I,” Eris admitted. “I suppose there is the possibility that whatever it is has nothing to do with us.”

“It’s possible, but I doubt it. I can’t think of any elemental who likes this part of the Vale well enough to erect some statue or monument. We’ll know, though, before another hour is gone,” Raga assured and adjusted himself in the saddle. He was going to be very glad to have that gem back if that turned out to be possible. Riding horses was just not his preferred method of transportation.

As Raga had said, the distance between them and the object lessened rapidly, as the distance looked farther than it was; just another illusion in a land fraught with illusion.

“Would you look at that?” Raga said and gave a whistle as he stared at the behemoth that grew larger with every step. A great, shimmering beast rose up solitary and still from the barren waste.

“I’d rather not,” Eris said. That same feeling of dread he had felt several nights earlier tingled deep within. He felt the memory of the white shroud being pulled across his face and he seemed to hear his death toll ringing mournfully in the desolate distance. Out of unconscious habit his polished sword whispered from its sheath and found its way into his firm grasp.

As they drew nearer, they saw that it was indeed the great avatar of Tas-Moren, god of the dragon people. Its body was shaped like any of a hundred dragons drawn by the myriad people of Almentia, except that it was massive and appeared to be cast of solid-gold scales each one put precisely where it ought to be. The tip of its broad snout was raised at least forty spans into the air, and its sparkling ruby eyes stared out of unseeing sockets. Its mouth gaped open to show an upper and lower row of sparkling, diamond-like teeth, sharp and shaped like spear tips. Two fans encrusted with emeralds stuck out from each side of its neck and the upper chest area was covered with sapphires. The avatar sat back on its haunches using its tapered tail for balance. Its shorter arms, which both ended in a pair of clawed hands, were held out in an arc from the body and encircled the pedestal that stood before it.

“Eris, look! That has to be the yellow gem on the pedestal,” Raga exclaimed, as they approached. The sound of a child-like squeal was in his voice as if he were a small boy just given his first hunting knife. “This one has turned out to be the simplest one of all to recover.”

With surprising agility given the hours in the saddle, Raga dismounted and made for the gem. He hadn’t gone but a few steps when Eris’ powerful grip caught him by the scruff of his collar and held him back.

“Not so fast. How do you know this thing is really a statue? It looks like one, but nothing here is as it appears. It might be waiting for you to come closer, then bite you in two, or swallow you down whole,” Eris said. He dismounted slowly, keeping his eyes on the beast, and stood next to Raga. “I hadn’t imagined Morengoth offering up prayers to a creature such as this.”

“His god doesn’t necessarily look like this. This could be merely a symbolic manifestation of Tas-Moren. Or, we could be seeing it as we think we should, as for generations the Tamori have been called the
dragon people
,” Raga explained.