Broken by Magic: An Epic Fantasy Adventure (Dragon Gate Book 3), page 13
The man answered. Jadora only recognized the word, “I,” but his head shake made the meaning clear.
No telepathic translation had accompanied the man’s spoken words, and Jak and Malek glanced at each other.
Only Jadora had a chance at understanding him, and she feared she wouldn’t get much.
And have you seen any people like them? Rajesk waved at their group. Do you know what world they come from?
“No.” He—Zethron—said a few more words that Jadora didn’t know and finished with, “…understand their language.”
Jadora didn’t know whether they should volunteer any information to these people—it wasn’t as if she wanted Uthari to gain a trade agreement that put more dragon steel in his hands—but not being able to communicate fully—to understand fully—gnawed at her. She pulled out a pen and journal she’d brought along for recording notes and wrote several lines in Ancient Zeruvian on a blank page.
While she worked, the hatchling climbed onto Jak’s shoulder, his tail swishing across his chest, and held the attention of Rajesk and his people.
She wrote that the language here was similar to one that had once been spoken on Torvil and asked if the locals had originated on this world or come through the portal long ago.
Perhaps Rajesk could have answered her if she asked him in her mind, but she already didn’t trust him. Besides, he was focused on Jak and Shikari and likely wasn’t monitoring her thoughts.
Malek watched her write. She held the page up before taking it to Zethron, wanting to make sure he didn’t object to sharing that information. He couldn’t read Ancient Zeruvian, but he was surely monitoring her thoughts.
Malek hesitated, then nodded. But he silently added, Be careful what you tell them. I can’t read the minds of the mages, but I believe their only interest in us is the hatchling. They may try to take Shikari by force if we don’t tell them where they can get more. I’m attempting to block everyone’s thoughts so they can’t get that information from our non-mages.
Thank you. Jadora walked the journal to Zethron.
He arched his eyebrows as she approached, but he didn’t seem as wary and suspicious of strangers as the others, and he offered her a polite nod and a smile.
Jadora offered him the journal, hoping he would recognize the similarities in the language, as she had. Just because he was an explorer, as Rajesk had called him, didn’t mean he was a philologist or archaeologist, but if he’d been brought in because he was an expert in other worlds, he might have such a background.
“Oh,” he said as soon as he read the page, and then gave a slower more drawn out, “Oh.” He scrutinized Jadora with new interest. “Fascinating.”
She knew he meant it was fascinating that they shared a common root language, not that she was fascinating, but he followed the word with a grin that left her unsure how to respond.
“Do you understand me?” Zethron pointed at his chest. “Because I am…”
She couldn’t translate the rest, but his eyebrow wriggle, wider grin, and touch to his chest made her certain it was something like, “a superior and delightful person to converse with.”
“Only some.” She wavered her hand.
“The important… hopefully.”
She shrugged, took the journal back, and wrote more.
I must know where it came from. Rajesk turned from the hatchling to the mages behind him. Can you imagine? He gestured expansively, spreading his arms, so he must have shared more with them.
Malek shook his head once gravely. I have a feeling I know what they’re going to ask for if we want to trade with them.
Jak shifted from foot to foot and looked at Malek. Looked worriedly at Malek.
“Do you want to share that information?” Jadora asked quietly, waving to the journal, though she was reluctant to mention the rest of those eggs. She hadn’t wanted their mages on Torvil to get Jak’s hatchling—or any other hatchlings—and she also didn’t want to hand them over to people who watched men be slain by predators for sport.
“No.” Jak looked at her in horror. “Those dragons are our future allies. Our friends.”
The hatchling chewed on a tuft of his hair.
Jadora feared he was being naive that the hatchling would grow into an ally or a friend, especially if all of the adult dragons Shikari was descended from were dead. Who would teach him language and culture and magic and whatever else had been important for dragons to learn? And who even knew how long dragons took to mature? The legends told of them being extremely long-lived. This one might take hundreds of years to mature. It could still be a baby, nibbling on Jak’s hair, when he was eighty years old.
Zethron touched her hand, startling her. She’d meant to ask him who he was and what this world was called, but she’d been distracted.
He smiled apologetically and pointed to the journal and pen. Oh, he wanted to write something for her. She nodded and handed them to him.
He took a deep breath, studied the ceiling as if he were trying to remember something, and then started writing painstakingly in Ancient Zeruvian. She suspected it was something he’d learned long ago but that wasn’t that similar to their modern version of the tongue.
I am Zethron of Family Star Teller, he wrote, and I am not originally from this world of Vran, but I am very familiar with it. I am an explorer and traveler of many places. Are you from the First World? I think you must be. The people here, and those on my world as well, are the descendants of the Zeruvians. Our two peoples were brought from the First World long ago by the dragons. The elder dragons, not the younger dragons. He shook his head firmly as he wrote that. You write in the old tongue. Our languages have changed over the millennia.
Tell me you’re not giving her your address and the time to come to dinner, Rajesk said telepathically as he frowned at Zethron.
“I am not,” Zethron replied, “but do you frath she would? She knows the ancient language. Our dinner yrgroth kar would be bamooth.” He grinned at her again.
Jadora didn’t know whether to be relieved or chagrined that she hadn’t caught all that. She didn’t want to date anyone from another world, even someone who reminded her of Loran, and caught herself glancing at Malek.
He was watching them, but if he was irritated by the comments, he didn’t show it. His face was still masked, and he looked like he was concentrating. On keeping the mages here from reading the group’s thoughts? Jadora hoped that was possible. Aside from Rivlen, they’d all been to the glacier world and knew about the eggs.
You’re not here to flirt with them. Who are they? And why did they come? Rajesk squinted at Jak and the whole group. He must have been willing to accept answers from them as well as Zethron since he included them all in his telepathic message.
“We are explorers interested in trade,” Malek said. Jadora, do you think it’s likely the Jitaruvak is from here?
It’s possible, she replied silently, assuming his question had been for her alone, but the prevailing blue coloring in the foliage makes me think not. Chlorophyll may be different here than on Torvil. I’d like to look at some of my samples under a microscope.
Trade? What do you seek in trade? Rajesk eyed Malek suspiciously.
The hatchling squawked. Shikari probably wanted caterpillars in trade.
“Dragon steel appears to be common here,” Malek said. “Do you make your own weapons?”
A way to ask if they could work the material without admitting that their people couldn’t.
Our etchers are skilled, yes. Rajesk lifted his chin. It is why they rule our people.
“Etchers?” Malek asked.
Rajesk squinted at him. Do you not have etchers?
“It is possible we call them by another name,” Malek said, giving away nothing.
Only the etchers handle the dragon steel, and it is not common. It is extremely valuable, and we do not trade it. Though… Rajesk eyed the hatchling again. It is possible that if you had dragon eggs, such an offer might appeal to the etchers. After all, dragons make the alloy from the ore in the mountains. With dragons, assuming we could control them as they grew sufficiently old enough for such work, we could make an unlimited amount.
Jak was shaking his head, but when he opened his mouth to speak, Malek caught his gaze and widened his eyes in warning.
I would not be authorized to make such a deal, Rajesk continued, but I could take your offer to the etchers. How many eggs are you willing to trade for dragon steel?
Jak clenched his jaw, nobly resisting what had to be an urge to blurt, “No,” again.
“We will only discuss our offer directly with those capable of making a deal,” Malek said.
Rajesk flicked dismissive fingers at him and repeated the question, looking directly at Jak. Apparently, he still thought Malek was just the bodyguard.
Jak repeated Malek’s words.
Strangers and peons are not permitted to speak with or even see the etchers. That is not our way. Only an ambassador—Rajesk thumped his own chest—or a champion may interact with them.
“A champion?” Malek asked.
One of the victors they choose to go on quests for them. Rajesk flicked a hand toward the arena, where a fresh round of gladiators was marching out, armor and weapons gleaming in the sun.
One of the mages leaned close to Rajesk and whispered in his ear. They fell silent but nodded at each other, sharing some telepathic conversation. Jadora wasn’t privy to this one.
Malek gazed thoughtfully out at the arena.
Jak patted Shikari’s head, that worry still in his eyes.
Jadora knew he didn’t care about dragon steel or Uthari getting a fresh supply of it. She didn’t either, though she admitted it might be useful to humanity at large to learn how to work the alloy. With weapons such as Tezi had found, perhaps terrene humans could defend themselves against mages. But she had a feeling the mages would be the ones who ended up getting such weapons. All of the lesser-dragon-steel weapons in the world belonged to zidarr and wizards.
Right now, all Jadora cared about acquiring was the Jitaruvak, so she could ensure her father’s safety.
Since Zethron had stopped writing, she took the journal back from him, turned to a fresh page and did her best to draw Jitaruvak fronds. Jak could have done a better job, but she didn’t think he was familiar with it.
Do you know if this plant exists on this world? Jadora wrote at the bottom.
Zethron scrutinized it before writing, I am not familiar with it, but I am not a gardener or herbalist. He arched his eyebrows. Are you?
Again, she was hesitant to share too much information, but maybe it would be useful for them to know her abilities. If Malek’s group could convince them to trade for something else besides dragon eggs, it was possible some of the medicines on Torvil would be of interest to them.
Yes, she wrote. Herbalist, apothecary, and chemist. Actually, she wrote alchemist, since that was the only Ancient Zeruvian word that would work, though she hoped he wouldn’t think she had some ability to magically alter chemicals.
His eyebrows rose higher. And linguist?
Jadora hesitated. Archaeologist. As an old friend would say—she winced as she thought of Darv—my pronunciation is limited.
“Huh.” Zethron smiled at her again. “I was right. Fascinating.”
Jadora shook her head.
“Zethron,” Rajesk said, switching to speaking solely aloud. “What have you learned?”
“They are from the First World,” Zethron said.
Rajesk looked sharply at Jadora. “So mylorfar zark their dragon gate is open?”
Zethron shrugged and said something Jadora couldn’t translate.
“Fascinating,” Rajesk said.
It sounded far more sinister when he said it.
“Leave, Zethron,” Rajesk added.
“What?”
“So you won’t be ferkokt.”
Zethron’s brow furrowed, and he glanced at the arena, but the next battle hadn’t yet started.
“Leave,” Rajesk boomed at him.
Zethron lifted his hands in exasperation, nodded to Jadora, and walked out of the room.
Before Jadora could determine what Rajesk was doing, he spun toward Jak and Malek, lifted his hands, and attacked them.
8
Sorath had never spent much time in jungles, and nobody would accuse him of being able to sneak through the undergrowth without making a sound, so he was relieved when a green light ahead directed him to where the zidarr had gone. It also provided just enough illumination that Sorath could see where he put his feet and avoid stepping on twigs or breaking branches.
Sasko crept after him, also choosing her footing carefully as they maneuvered closer to the light while staying behind trees for cover. Attempting to sneak up on a magic user wasn’t a good idea, and Sorath wouldn’t normally consider it, but he’d recognized one of the devices that Vinjo had slipped into his pockets before being captured.
He held up one hand to Sasko and drew the clandestineness creeper out with the other, the small hedgehog-shaped device fitting into his palm. In the dark, Sasko probably couldn’t see it. He took her arm, touched her fingers to the tool, then directed her hand to rest on his shoulder.
“Vinjo’s stealth device,” he breathed.
Though he couldn’t hear anyone talking up ahead, that didn’t mean their voices wouldn’t be audible if someone was present.
Sasko nodded and gripped his shoulder. Sorath pressed his thumb into the only indention on the device, and a tingle ran over his skin.
Earlier, he’d tested it and received the same result, though he hadn’t asked anyone if they could see him, so he could only trust now that it was working. If it wasn’t and they were discovered, oh, well. They were two mercenaries out on patrol. They were supposed to be here. He doubted whoever had conjured that green light could claim the same.
“I felt it,” Sasko whispered.
“Good. Don’t let go of me.” Sorath didn’t know if touch was required for the device to camouflage two people, but he would assume so until he knew otherwise.
“As long as the captain doesn’t get jealous.”
“I don’t think she has possessive feelings about my shoulder.”
This wasn’t the best place to chat, so Sorath held a finger to his lips, then led the way, moving slowly so they could stay together.
As they navigated through the trees, around brush, and over logs, the green light grew stronger. Soon, the tiny device giving off the illumination came into view. It lay in a clearing, a little green oval resting on fallen fronds and shreds of bark.
Sorath stopped between two trees, leaving enough room for Sasko to squeeze in beside him. Thus far, he hadn’t seen anyone. It looked like someone had been ambling through the jungle, and the device had fallen out of their pocket.
Highly doubting that, Sorath rested his hand on the butt of his pistol and waited.
A few minutes passed before movement stirred in the shadows. Yidar on his skyboard. He was circling the area, looking toward the device, but not getting too close. Searching for whoever had left it there?
Sorath wondered if Yidar would sense the creeper. He hadn’t asked Vinjo for details about it and didn’t know if it worked on mages. What if it only hid people from sight, not magical senses?
Yidar spun on his skyboard, peering into the trees. It wasn’t toward Sorath and Sasko but off to their left.
A growl emanated from that direction. Sorath tightened his grip on his pistol.
An attractive, green-haired woman walked through the foliage. Had she growled?
Clearly a druid, she wore a homespun tunic woven from grasses, the crude material not quite hiding the curve of substantial breasts. Though tattoos of leaves and flowers ran across her forehead and marked her cheeks, they couldn’t hide her full lips, high cheekbones, and intriguing green eyes. Her skin was almost as dark as Sorath’s, so those eyes stood out.
As she approached, the source of the growl came into view, a jaguar padding along behind her. It looked like the same great feline that had spied on their camp from the top of the waterfall. Sorath had known it was a druid’s minion.
The woman stopped at the edge of the light and looked at Yidar.
“You are not my strapping young lieutenant,” she said in perfect Dhoran with a lyrical accent and musical voice.
Sorath wouldn’t have expected a druid from deep within remote Zewnath to speak the common tongue, but he suspected she’d been chosen for this mission because of that ability. What exactly this mission was, he didn’t yet know.
“I’m far more strapping than he.” Yidar floated closer on his skyboard. He looked her up and down, though he didn’t let his gaze linger on her curves for long before studying her eyes.
“And are you as willing to trade information to me as he?”
“Perhaps. What is your name?”
“Kywatha of Rabbit Clan.”
“And what do you offer, Kywatha?”
“To a zidarr who is loyal to King Uthari? What would you wish? Your kind are known to crave little and rarely enjoy pleasures of the flesh.”
“Not all zidarr succumb to that brainwashing. I have cravings.”
“Oh?” She rested a hand on her hip and flipped her green hair over her shoulder, turning her chest more fully toward him.
Yidar snorted. “I desire far more than a sexual encounter in the weeds. I propose a trade of information. I’ll share what I know about the portal and who’s going through it and why. You tell me how many of your people are out here and what they desire.”
“Were I to give that information to you, my people would be disappointed in me.”
“Yet you want information from me.”
“I’m authorized to pay for it, though I’m already aware of the capabilities of the portal. Tell me about your fleet and how long so many of them will be here. And what of the other fleets? Are they allies? Or is there tension among your people?” Kywatha exuded radiance and power that Sorath could sense, even without the ability to detect magic.
