The Wings of Dragons: Book One of the Dragoon Saga (13 page)

“
That’s how you crossed the
square so quickly,” Iren realized. “What about your eyes, though?
They had sparks in them!”

Rondel beamed with pride. She closed her
eyes briefly. When she opened them again, blue bolts were dancing
across her irises. “This is my best magical invention, a technique
I’m proud to say no other Maantec can do. I call it Lightning
Sight.”

“
Lightning Sight?” Iren
asked, mystified.

“
You see, not only does the
brain use electrical charges to communicate to your muscles, but
the senses use them to signal what they encounter to the brain.
Increasing those signals boosts my senses. In the case of Lightning
Sight, the enhanced vision lets me pinpoint every detail of a
scene, observe an object over long distances, and even see in total
darkness.”

Iren thought about his previous experiences
with Rondel. Lightning Sight explained how she easily dodged all
the Quodivar’s arrows. She could perceive the tiny motions of the
thieves’ bodies and use them to predict what they were going to do.
Also, once they fired their arrows, she could track the
projectiles’ flights with perfect detail. Lightning Sight
effectively gave the crone an instantaneous reaction time, and when
combined with her increased speed, hitting her would become almost
impossible.

Rondel stretched, stood, and headed for the
door. “Well, if that’s all, both of us should get some rest.”

Iren almost let her leave when he felt a
strange urge, and he burst out, “Rondel, have you ever met your
dragon, Okthora?”

The aged Maantec had a hand on the door. She
stood silently for a long time before responding carefully, “Why do
you ask?”

“
When I passed out, I saw
Divinion. He talked to me.”

Rondel turned in the darkness, her
expression inscrutable. “No, I haven’t,” she replied, “and if you
want my advice, you’ll refrain from ever speaking with yours
again.” With that, she exited the room.

For a long time Iren lay awake, pondering
Rondel’s words. At last, exhausted from the events of the day and
the promise of battle tomorrow, he fell into a deep and,
thankfully, dreamless sleep.

After a hasty breakfast at dawn, Balear and
the others headed to the entrance to Veliaf’s mine. Hardly an
elegant structure, the mine’s opening was nothing more than a large
hole in the ground covered with a pair of hinged wooden doors that
swung to either side. Next to the doors sat a gargantuan chunk of
blue stone with heavy ropes and pulleys wrapped around it. Dirio
explained that it had come from a slag pile near the mine’s
entrance. Balear wondered how many villagers it had taken to haul
the boulder over the entrance.

Captain Angustion motioned for Dirio to take
the lead alongside him. Rondel came next, still grinning in that
way that made Balear want to punch her in the face. The Castle
Guard’s code forbade him to strike a woman, in particular an old
woman, but Rondel really, really pushed him. After her display
yesterday, though, Balear was in no mood to challenge her.

The captain had ordered Balear and Iren to
serve as rear guard. They hadn’t seen any more Quodivar in the
village, but that didn’t necessarily mean they weren’t there.
Moreover, even if the bandits Rondel had killed yesterday were the
only Quodivar left in Veliaf, the spiderweb of mine passages could
hide any number of them.

Balear cast a surreptitious glance at Iren.
Admittedly, his opinion of the Left had changed a little in the
past twenty-four hours. Healing Dirio, even though Balear didn’t
understand how on Raa that could happen, had at least proved Iren
capable of good deeds. For this particular assignment, however,
Iren still made him deeply uncomfortable. The Left had barely
survived his first skirmish. The heart of the Quodivar and Yokai’s
territory wasn’t the place for basic training, whatever devil magic
Iren might have. Making matters worse, Captain Angustion kept
heaping praise on the boy. He never made such glowing remarks to
other soldiers.

All the same, Balear knew his superior must
have his reasons. If Captain Angustion considered Iren’s talents
acceptable, Balear would just have to keep his own feelings in
check and obey.

The group slipped into the dank mine,
shadows enveloping them the moment they crossed the threshold.
Leaning down, Dirio located a large box just inside the mine
entrance. A shower of sparks erupted, and a torch flared to life in
Dirio’s hand.

Putting away his striker, Dirio retrieved
enough torches from the box and gave one to each of them. The light
did little more than cast a pale glow on their path, but even so,
Balear took in the mine with awe. The tunnels had square cross
sections large enough to allow even the tallest workers to walk
around comfortably. Sturdy wooden cants, some so thick Balear
doubted he could have wrapped his arms around them, supported the
ceiling. Dirio tapped one and turned to the group. “Spruce timbers
from Akaku,” he whispered. “Nowhere else around grows them this
big.”

Balear marveled not only at the mine itself,
but also at the incredible work that had gone into making it. Aside
from the constant threat of death by cave-in, he knew the workers
had risked their lives by entering Akaku to cut trees. The flat
walls bore the occasional divot signifying where crews had carved
their way through the solid earth, deeper and deeper until finally
reaching the stone they wanted.

With each step, Balear’s muscles tightened.
Thus far, no one had approached them, whether from the front or
from behind, but the mine’s emptiness only set him more on edge. It
was full of blind corners, and every turn could reveal an enemy.
Worse, while their torches helped light their path, they also gave
away their approach to anyone lurking around a bend.

Eventually, Dirio called them to a halt with
a silent wave. Balear looked ahead and beheld the breach in the
mine that led into the cavern beyond. Peering into the opening, he
saw that the cave’s walls curved up and away from him, far higher
than the mine’s ceiling.

Captain Angustion doused his torch, and the
others quickly did the same. They’d needed the torches so Dirio
could navigate them to the cavern, but they couldn’t risk using
them any longer. Now they had truly entered Quodivar territory, and
stealth could make the difference between victory and death.

For a moment Balear fumbled in the total
darkness, unable to see even an inch in front of his face. Cold
mist from the cavern swirled around him, dampening his clothes as
well as his spirits. Gulping, he stretched out a hand and grasped
the shoulder of the person in front of him. The height told him it
belonged to Iren. He instinctively recoiled, but focusing on the
mission, he reluctantly took hold and let the freak guide him.

They walked in a line, each person with a
hand on the one in front of them. Rondel led the way. Balear could
barely perceive the faintest glow coming from around her head. She
must be doing that crazy thing with her eyes again. More devil
magic, he knew. Still, she managed to weave her way through the
black tunnel without difficulty, and Balear doubted an approaching
Quodivar would consider the tiny light her eyes created anything
out of the ordinary.

More likely, they would notice the noise the
group made. Deprived of his sight, every sound felt magnified a
dozen times over. Every crunch of his boots on the gravel floor,
every drop of water from the ceiling, every hissed breath became
more deafening than Haldessa’s great hall during an evening
meal.

Rondel led them on for an indeterminate
amount of time, the floor gradually sloping downward as they hiked.
The only problem with the Left leading the way was her height. She
seemed to forget, or maybe she just didn’t care, that the men
following her all measured at least a head taller than her. While
she could easily avoid low ceilings, more than once Balear collided
into one that jutted out of nowhere. In the total darkness, he
never received the slightest warning. He quickly lost track of how
many bruises had already started forming on his head.

Suddenly, there was a loud crash right in
front of him. Iren’s shoulder disappeared from his grip, and Balear
was left alone in the dark. He reached for his sword, terrified
that the enemy had ambushed them and begun slaughtering them one by
one. Before he could draw his weapon, however, he pitched forward,
tripping over a mound that came almost to his waist. The pile was
fortunately soft, and the moment he hit it, the series of muffled
“Oofs!” and a high-pitched cry of “My back!” told him what had
happened.

Rondel had stopped for some reason, but in
the blackness no one could tell. Balear disentangled himself from
the inglorious heap, and the others did the same. Next to him,
Balear heard a series of popping noises, and then Rondel said,
“Well, I guess it’s fine after all.”

Although he couldn’t see her, Balear knew
the old Left was smiling.

“
Why did you stop?” Iren
whispered, but he needn’t have asked. Just ahead, around a bend in
the passageway, a dull light shone. Captain Angustion poked his
head around the corner and gestured that it was safe to
proceed.

With the captain leading the way, they
slowly advanced. The tunnel narrowed until Balear felt rock
scraping against both of his arms. It made him fear for Captain
Angustion. In the cramped space, his superior would have no
support. Balear couldn’t fire his bow here, and he doubted the
captain could even draw his long hand-and-a-half sword.

To Balear’s great relief, the tunnel
ultimately opened into a much larger room, though just how big he
couldn’t tell. Dozens of torches lined the chamber walls, but their
light faded before reaching the ceiling. Balear judged the distance
to the torches on the far wall at well over a hundred feet. In the
middle of the room, the Quodivar had mounted a series of pedestals
bearing even more torches.

What those torches revealed made Balear’s
breath catch in his throat. Gold and silver coins, fine textiles,
exquisite jewelry, and masterful paintings covered most of the
room’s floor.

The Quodivar’s plunder, however, had not
made Balear react. No, his concern stemmed from the wooden table in
the room’s center. Six crude chairs fashioned from logs surrounded
it, and upon each sat a man. They appeared distracted with a dice
game, but each of them had a dagger at his belt and a sword just
behind him within easy reach. Balear pursed his lips. He and his
companions were in shadow here, just beyond the edge of the room,
but as soon as they entered, the men would notice them.

Amroth apparently made the same calculation,
because he looked back, gave the faintest of nods, and then charged
into the room at full speed, sword drawn. At first, Balear didn’t
understand the gesture, but when Iren nearly bowled him over to
join the fray, at last the young soldier understood. Since they
couldn’t sneak up on the enemy, they might as well just get noticed
and take them out as quickly as possible.

By the time Balear drew his bow, the battle
had nearly ended. Iren and Captain Angustion had each slain two men
already, and as Balear nocked his first arrow, Rondel stabbed
another from behind. The sixth fighter, however, the one farthest
from where they had entered the room, had fled the moment the
attack started. The captain raced after him, disappearing into a
passageway that led further down.

For a moment the others stared in shock at
the empty canyon entrance. Rondel recovered first. “Let’s go,” she
said. “The fool’s going to get himself killed.”

They dashed for the far passage, Balear
taking the lead. He had to reach his captain. He had to protect
him. Captain Angustion couldn’t die! Balear crossed the threshold
into the canyon, and then the explosion knocked him flat.

The bone-crushing shower of stone missed him
by inches. Coughing amid the dust, Balear regained his feet. A wall
of debris blocked the passageway. He cursed and smashed his fist
against it.

“
A trap,” Dirio suggested,
“meant to crush anyone who crosses into the canyon.”

Rondel looked doubtful. “Then why didn’t
Amroth trigger it? Or that Quodivar?”

“
Who cares?” Balear
shouted. He wrapped both arms around one of the larger stones,
trying and failing to heave it aside. “We’ve got to reach Captain
Angustion!”

They all rushed to help, but with each rock
Balear removed, his thoughts drifted, unbidden, to Rondel. He
highly doubted that the collapse had occurred naturally, but surely
no manmade effort could have caused it. The explosion that preceded
the cave-in and the horrible timing of it stunk of devil magic.

After entirely too long, they cleared enough
of the rock fall for Balear to squeeze through. Once past the
debris, he bounded down the tunnel at a full sprint. He knew he was
opening himself up to an ambush, but he didn’t care. He would run
until he found his captain, dead or alive.

As he charged through the gloom, he was
dimly aware that this latest passage looked nothing at all like the
previous ones. Those had rough, jagged walls that stuck out at odd
angles and changed direction at random. This tunnel, by contrast,
was wide, round, smooth, and perfectly straight. Just like the
cave-in, he had the odd feeling that nature hadn’t created it, yet
neither did it resemble a human effort like Veliaf’s mine. The
walls looked poured, not excavated, and everything had an eerie
sheen that made it look like glass, except black.

The bizarre tube finally ended, and Balear
ran into another open room, this one looking natural. Though barely
fifteen feet at its widest, its ceiling, like the previous room,
rose so high he couldn’t begin to discern it. Reaching the room’s
center, Balear tensed. Something about this place made him
uneasy.