Demon Gates (Nexus Wars Saga), page 43
Valdieron briefly described the events of the evening, and Kalamar frowned at the mention of Kalel.
“I will see he doesn’t bother you again, friend Smith.” He gave greeting as Valdieron made the introductions.
“I thought it would be all right if I brought them along. I could not leave them in case Kalel returned.”
Kalamar waved it off. “Of course its all right. From what you have said, it is a night of celebration for you all. Come, I will show you where you can get cleaned up and changed.”
He took them to the guest quarters where he had several servants prepare hasty baths and press the clothes ready for wearing. He even took the liberty of bringing out a silver necklace and earrings for Natasha. “It would be a shame for a woman of your beauty to go without ornamentation.” Where the Spy came up with them Valdieron did not know nor did he particularly want to know. He wondered if somebody would be missing some jewelry on the morrow.
Valdieron was also provided with new clothes; a blue silk shirt with white trousers striped with gold, and high boots. He was self-conscious about his strangely burned forearms, so he was glad for the coverage provided by the long sleeves. He was surprised to find the Tear glowing a strange golden hue, and was unusually warm against his skin. It was the first he had noticed it since arriving at the castle.
Kalamar led them back to the hall. Valdieron was forced to leave his weapons with Kalamar who had them locked away for safekeeping.
There were over three hundred people inside the great hall, and he saw the expressions of awe set on the faces of Kyle and Natasha when they entered. Kolin took it all in with youthful surprise, clinging to Kyle at the sight of the many strangers.
Long tables were set throughout the room. Each was topped with silver cutlery and tableware over white silk tablecloths, while people sat in finely crafted wooden chairs, which were padded for comfort. The royal family sat at the largest table in the room, each dressed regally and talking among themselves. Thorgast and Hafri were at a table to their right, seemingly on their own, but a place beside them was obviously where Kalamar had been, and another spot was set up for Valdieron. They looked up in surprise as the five approached, and Kalamar motioned for a servant to make another three places for Kyle, Natasha and Kolin. Food was already being eaten, and as they were seated and the introductions made, more food was brought. Talk was made between mouthfuls of food and drink. Kyle seemed more than a little nervous, but Natasha looked as if she were enjoying the public appearance, while Kolin stared around him in wonder.
Bards were playing music throughout the room. Valdieron found himself thinking of Llewellyn, who would have enjoyed this evening greatly. He would miss the Elf, he knew, and every time he heard sweet music he thought of him.
At length the meal was finished, and everything cleared away. King Dhoric rose to address the gathering.
“Friends and guests. I thank you all for your presence here tonight, with the purpose of presenting this year’s winner of the Tournament with his plaque and prize. I am sure you will all agree with me when I say that this year the Tournament was an even greater success than we have seen in many years.” He paused as the crowd cheered. “It also saw the unveiling of a new champion. Make welcome and give praise, to Thorgast, Warrior of the Urak’Hai and Prince of Chul’Haka.”
The crowd applauded and cheered then as Hafri nudged the red-faced Barbarian to his feet. The King stepped away from his table as Thorgast approached him, welcoming him with an extended hand.
“In tribute of your honor and courage, we give to you the coveted Shield of Thorhus.” This was a miniature tower-shield bearing the King’s etched emblem on its polished surface. Beneath it was etched Thorgast’s name and his victory in the tournament in the year of 5119 of the Third Era. The King had already given him his five hundred Sovereigns so that Thorgast could buy his supplies.
Thorgast bowed as the King placed the shield around his neck on a fine silver necklace. When he rose, his face was puffed with pride and emotion, and there were tears in his dark eyes as he returned to the table.
“Now. Let you all enjoy yourselves for the rest of the evening.” So saying, the King waited for the rest of his family to rise, and the crowd rose also to see them leave. Surprisingly Andrak and Kitara stayed, breaking away and heading to the table where Valdieron and the others stood. On cue, servants rushed in and began to shift the tables to the outside of the room while the Bards gathered on the lower level of the dais and began to play again. Servants wandered about with trays of wine and fine ale.
“Valdieron! We were wondering where you had gotten. I am glad you made it!” Andrak was dressed in gray leggings tucked into high black boots, and wore a loose shirt of lavender and crimson. A loose gold chain encircled his neck, hidden as it hung behind his shirt.
“Better late than never, that was what my Pa used to say.” With a smile he glanced past the Prince to Kitara, who was standing aside looking around the room. She was wearing a sparkling white dress with a sweeping gown and frilled bodice. A diamond circlet was set in the swell of her dark hair, and from it hung a small silver chain, connected to a dark gray symbol about the size of a coin, though thicker.
Valdieron introduced Kyle and Natasha to them both, with Kolin staring wide-eyed at the two royals, like a rabbit ready to run. Surprisingly, Kitara and Natasha got along well, and the two drifted away after a short time to talk and mingle, while the men drank and chatted.
Hafri and Kalamar drifted away shortly after. Kyle and Thorgast also seemed to take a liking to each other as the two sat to talk to each other, in between Thorgast being congratulated by those passing by. Valdieron knew the Barbarian spoke of his return to his homeland, and Kyle listened with rapture, like a child being entertained by a story. Valdieron realized his friend had probably only heard of the Urak’Hai in stories, as had he before meeting Thorgast in Ranil.
Suddenly a woman was standing before him, the sweep of her long black gown caressing the floor. She was tall and pretty, some years older than him with curled brown hair past her shoulders. Her low-cut dress clung to her slender figure, accentuating her womanly gifts. Her full-lipped smile revealed sparkling teeth. Pale gray eyes regarded him as she would regard something she was about to buy. A long necklace with a ruby pendant hung between her bosom, and Valdieron wondered which drew the eye more readily.
“Would you care to dance, Valdieron of Tyr?”
It was an invitation more than a question, though she gave him no chance to answer as she grasped his hand. He realized there was no pain in his hands or arms where he had been burned, and even the scarred dragon sigils on his wrists felt like they were not there.
They entered the throng of dancers and dug deeper into their midst. Valdieron would have preferred hanging on the fringes, but it was obvious this lady wanted to be seen dancing with him. He tried not to blush under the gazes of those nearby as she turned and pulled his body against hers. He was sweating slightly at her touch. Her perfume, light and smelling of rose, made him think of Natasha. He was taller than her, but she peered up at him in a way that made him feel shorter somehow. He tried not to peer down the front of her dress as he looked down at her, though he did slip occasionally.
“I do not dance well, Madam,” he confessed as she led him through a few steps, and he clumsily followed. In truth he had had few occasions to dance, and only then during the festivals in the village.
“That can be amended, Valdieron.” Her smile was without guile and her intention made clear as she took a deep breath that swelled her chest. He flushed again and looked away, though he almost kicked himself for it.
Salima was her name, the daughter of one of the King’s advisers, and she let it be known that she was unmarried though looking desperately, which made him nervous. She asked in a roundabout way if he was related to the King or a nobleman himself. When he told her he was the son of a Horse Breeder, she laughed and slapped him softly as if she thought he was joking.
She chatted with him intimately as they swirled about slowly, whispering up into his ear as she pressed against him, adding to his awkwardness. Though it was not a displeasing predicament to be caught him, he felt trapped. She was obviously trying to tempt him with her sweet words, and had he been like Hafri in any way, he would already have succumbed to her dulcet seductions and been led away.
“May I have this dance?”
Salima cursed softly as she spun to see who had interrupted. Her scowl turned to a wide smile as she beheld Princess Kitara standing there. She curtsied slightly as she released Valdieron, though her slender fingers caressed his hands as she released him, and she flashed him another smile before departing.
“Having fun, were we?”
He had half hoped that Salima would refuse Kitara as the Princess stepped in to him and caught him up in the same embrace. Obviously it was normal to dance this close here, and he sighed softly as her warm body pressed against him. She was almost at a level with him, so he did not have the problems he had with Salima with regards to her bosom, not necessarily a good thing.
“I felt like a rabbit caught in a snare, with the Hunter bearing down on me,” he confessed with a relieved chuckle, to which she smiled.
“Salima certainly has her charms.”
The emphasis she placed on charms made him blush again as they danced. His chest grew warm and he drew away slightly, realizing it was the Dragons Tear. Its touch was almost unbearable against his skin.
“Is something amiss?”
Kitara regarded him, and he could not help but notice how beautiful she was, which made him wonder why he had thought that at that moment. He saw, the Coin-like pendant against her forehead, its surface etched with the symbol of two miniature dragons clutching a globe in their clawed feet, their tails tracing the smooth edge to meet head to tail.
He knew suddenly this was a piece of the Disk of Akashel.
He reeled away from her then, and hardly heard her gasp of surprise as he pushed through the crowd. Suddenly he felt overwhelmed and suffocating, and the noises around him intensified in volume. He bumped past people, bringing soft curses and looks, but he paid them no heed as he searched for the nearest exit.
He stumbled into the garden, collapsing onto the grass with a groan.
Silent footfalls on the rich grass did not cause him to raise his head. He smelt the Princess’ rich perfume as she sat beside him in silence. Her arm encircled his shoulders and she pressed against him comfortingly.
“Are you all right?”
He was shivering, whether from the cold or the sudden fear he could not tell. He took a rasping breath and looked at her. The pain in his eyes must have been clear, for she gave a start.
“There is something wrong. Tell me!”
It was no command. The concern in her voice was evident as she grabbed his hand. Her skin felt warm, where he himself felt like ice, and he wondered how she could not feel it.
Reaching inside his shirt he brought out the Dragon’s tear, and she gasped at its illuminated beauty. It was a pale crimson color now, different than he had ever seen it. He knew it was a result of the presence of the piece of the disc. With his other hand he reached out and touched the pendant on her forehead.
The eye blazed on impact, and he released the Disk instantly, hoping he had not caused her any harm. His skin tingled, and he wondered if it was because he was so close to the Piece or because he’d touched it.
Blinking, the Princess was staring at him with disbelief. “Who are you?”
“If only I knew,” he whispered.
“What is going on Val?”
He regarded her fearfully, wondering what danger her knowing might put her in.
“You are beautiful!”
She gave a surprised start at this comment, and blushed. He had spoken aloud, and he blushed more furiously than he had all night, even while catching glimpses of Salima’s bosom.
“I’m sorry. I should not have said that.”
Kitara laughed as he stammered though the apology. “Why be sorry, Valdieron? I took no offence from the comment. It was just surprising, that is all.”
Desperate to change the subject, he began to tell her the secrets he had omitted from the original telling of his life. Her face darkened and she looked thoughtful, though shocked as he continued.
“And this?” she unsecured the pendant from her tiara and held it in her hand, almost like a spider. “This is part of a Symbol which will help recreate these Seals?” Her voice wavered as she shook her head in denial. “How can this be? This pendant has been part of my Mother’s heritage for many generations.”
“The Seals were created thousands of years ago, and their creation broke the Symbol. Thus was it scattered, thought worthless. It is not impossible that your mother’s family came by this piece. Maybe they even have more.” He wondered at this. He knew that Kitara’s mother had been Dak’marian, and he would check out this lead when he went to Dak’mar in search of his own identity.
Kitara clasped the pendant in her fist and held it to her breast, biting her lip as she closed her eyes. Then she pressed it to him. “Then you must take it.”
Valdieron stammered as he searched for a reply, seeing the pain in her eyes. Obviously it was something she held dear, as he did his own Dragon Tear pendant. It was a link with his mother, as this was for her. Gently he closed her fingers around it.
“Keep it for me. I will return for it one day if I can. For now I know where it is.”
She gave a choking sob and embraced him with relief. “Thank you,” she whispered in his ear, and he felt light-headed again by her presence and smell. He was loath to release her. “I will keep it safe, always.”
A tightening of his stomach and a tingling along his skin he almost passed off as nervousness at her embrace. He spied a figure exiting the hall, walking slowly as if savoring the garden’s solitude. The man was tall and slender, with flowing white hair, though he appeared youthful and fair. He was dressed in a flowing black cloak traced with silver. He was smiling, and his eyes darted around the garden as if cherishing every sight from the dim moonlight, though Valdieron thought his eyes turned towards him more often than not.
The man came closer. His path would take him directly past them, so he awkwardly released the Princess, who seemed unaware of the stranger. She hung her head as she settled back, and secured the pendant to a chain around her neck rather than on her forehead.
The stranger’s presence and closeness exacerbated the uneasy feeling and Valdieron knew it was not due to the princess. There was something about the stranger that was not right.
His boots. They were not the type usually worn by lords at a ceremony, being thick-soled for walking not dancing, and they still bore the stains of dust as if hastily wiped over.
The figure was passing then, and as Valdieron sensed something was wrong, the man spun and lunged at him. A dark blade appeared in his hand as if by magic. Caught in the crouch, Valdieron as barely able to bat the man’s hand aside as he rolled, away from Kitara to draw the man’s attention.
With dazzling speed the man spun again and thrust at him, repeatedly jabbing the blade to keep him at bay. Behind the figure, Valdieron saw Kitara still seated, and wondered why she had not moved.
“She is caught in my spell, Kay’taari. I will enjoy her when I am done with you.”
The man’s sibilant words made Valdieron shudder. What magic had the man used and why hadn’t he used it on him? Surely that would have been far easier than trying to use the dagger he wielded.
Not that he was beyond ability with the weapon. Valdieron felt the blade pass within a hair of his face as he jerked back from a cut. The man thrust again, but Valdieron was ready and stepped to the side of it. Using one arm he hooked the man’s wrist and with the other jabbed with the open palm into the man’s elbow. There was a cracking as the elbow snapped, and the figure screamed as the blade dropped to the ground. The pain did not last, however, and he spun and struck Valdieron in the stomach. The force knocked him into the air and back, where he rolled to his feet gasping for breath. Looking up, the figure was gone, and guards were running from the hall, Kalamar leading them. Kitara was rising groggily to her feet, shaking her head as if to shake off fatigue, and she stumbled to Valdieron.
“What happened? What are you doing there? I feel like I fell asleep for a moment.”
Valdieron looked around for signs of the man, but he was gone without trace. Kalamar was there then, and he grasped the man’s dropped dagger like it was made of ice. The dark blade gave off no reflection in the moonlight.
“We were warned by Dhoric’s magicians that there was dark magic being done in the palace.” He glanced at Valdieron and shook his head. “I figured it would have something to do with you. Who was that guy?”
Valdieron shrugged, but another voice cut him off. “That was an Ashar’an Assassin, Kalamar, someone even you should be fearful of.”
Kalamar spun, and his own rapier was in his hand in a flash as two figures stepped from the nearby bushes. Valdieron did not have to squint as he looked at them, and his eyes widened in surprise. He almost thought one of the figures, the one who had spoken, was Astan-Valar. The other man he could have mistaken for Thorgast, though if possible this Barbarian was taller but leaner. On his back rested a huge sword, and though he did not move at Kalamar’s action, his dark eyes took in everything.
“No need for weapons, Kalamar. If I were an enemy, you would be dead by now. Advice is what I have, advice that shall be heard. Take me to your king.”
Valdieron stepped aside with Kitara as the two passed, and he was surprised when the old man turned to him. “You will come too.” His eyes, like pools of dark ash, seemed to evaluate Valdieron.
“Who are you?” Valdieron whispered, knowing there was some link between this man and Astan-Valar. They appeared as brothers by their likeness.
