The Sapphire Manticore (The Lost Ancients Book 4) Page 2

  The next two days were slow, long, and boring. However, I was glad there hadn’t been any more rakasa sightings. Those monsters would be haunting my nightmares for the next lifetime even if I never saw another one again.

  I also didn’t see any more faery-like blurs. Part of me was sad about that. I missed those little flying miscreants more than I would ever admit. But I also wanted them to be safe. I had my own fantasy idea of how elves were. I’d grown up thinking about what they’d been like—magical, wise, kind, and benevolent. The ones I’d met so far hadn’t come anywhere close to that. I didn’t trust the ones in Alric’s enclave not to capture and possibly harm my little flying drunkards.

  Not to mention who knew what their alchemists would do if they caught Bunky. He was a magical construct in the shape of a chimera, one with a goat-like head, tiny wings, a round body, and short, stumpy, goat-like legs. He was made out of something black and solid—something not living, even though he was. Like the relics that the elves and everybody else were after, Bunky came from the time of the Ancients. I couldn’t let him fall into their hands.

  Therefore, I spent yet another two days trudging along, not able to talk to Alric, in the silence of the elven knights.

  I will admit I was bored and would have liked some excitement to liven things up. But seeing the knight directly in front of me take an arrow in the back—an arrow that shot right past me to pierce his armor and drop him to the ground—was not what I was hoping for.

  The knights formed their circle with the swords out, this time with me and Alric in the middle along with their packs. The knight who’d been struck with the arrow kicked the ground in his death throes next to us. Not only had that long arrow managed to pierce his armor, it most likely had been poisoned, judging by the kicking.

  Alric’s hand clenched. He clearly hated being forced to hide, and he wanted a weapon. He was a fighter, and a good one. If we were under attack, letting him call his sword and help defend wouldn’t be a bad idea. None of the knights even looked at us. Judging from the attitude I’d seen in the last week, they clearly felt they were above everyone—including other elves.

  I was perfectly fine with hiding. My sword hadn’t popped up, so I didn’t know if that meant it was finally obeying me, was afraid of appearing in front of the knights, or we weren’t really in danger. A quick glance at the twisted corpse of the knight on the ground made me doubt the last one.

  The knights communicated with each other in some sort of low-volume code. A few odd sounds from them and everyone in the circle took a step to the right.

  Their steps every few minutes and their low words were the only sounds in the woods around us. The only ones. No animals, birds, nothing. Our archer was still nearby.

  The silence shattered with two more arrows. Long ones, like the one that had killed the knight, zipped out of the forest. I was facing the direction they came from and if the fact that both were released at almost the same moment didn’t let me know there was more than one person out there, the fact that one came a good two feet higher than the second one would have.

  I was by no means an expert on arrows, bows, or any other weapons, but even to me those arrows looked strange. At least three feet long with odd fletching that almost seemed to move against the wind of its own accord, the shafts flashed gold as they crossed a sunny patch.

  Unlike the first one, the knights were ready for this attack and while the first arrow had been able to pierce their armor, the second and third were blocked by the knights’ shields.

  “Show yourselves, you craven cowards.” The captain didn’t yell, but his voice was so perfectly pitched that I was pretty sure they could have heard him back in Kenithworth. I wondered how long it took him to learn to do that.

  The only response was two more arrows, this time from another section of the forest. Normally I was a big fan of trees—I far preferred forests to plains. Normally. Right now the fact that whoever had us pinned could do so without us even having a hint of who they are—or how many of them there were—was really making me re-think my love of forests.

  Again the arrows were blocked by the raising of the shields.

  “Give us the prize. We’ll let ye pass.” The accent was strange, one I’d not heard before. As if the speaker wasn’t used to speaking common and had learned it from someone in a bar a few hundred years ago.

  The only prize we had with us was the emerald dragon, the third relic in what was appearing to be a multi-part weapon of mass destruction that might have been the downfall of the Ancients. I knew there was no way the knights would give that up. They’d come looking for Alric and the glass gargoyle, since a witness or ten had supposedly seen him steal it from the elven enclave. They hadn’t known about the emerald dragon, but they were quick enough to take it when they were offered it.

  From the stance of the knights, I knew they would all have to be slaughtered, including Alric and I, before they would let one of the relics go. Even if they personally had no idea what the thing did.

  “You’ll have nothing from us, except your deaths. The relics belong to the elven kingdom.”

  A low guttural laugh cut through. Suddenly, I knew the speaker. Rather, the species of the speaker.

  “We don’t want trinkets. We want the digger.”

  Panic grabbed hold of my heart and I looked around to see if I could get out of here before they handed me over. I recognized the species of the speaker—it was a syclarion.

  If ever there were a time for that damn spirit sword to appear, this would be it. The fact that it didn’t, meant my belief that it popped up in times of danger was nothing but wishful thinking.

  The captain managed to look back at me huddling within their circle, but still kept an eye on the forest around them. The elves wanted Alric. I was only brought along when I forced the issue with my newfound sword friend. They didn’t really need to bring me back.

  I held my breath to see if the captain was willing to trade me to the syclarion.

  “I cannot allow that.” The captain’s voice was terse as usual, but the pause before he spoke let me know that he thought about it.

  Great. He wasn’t going to dump me yet, but that option was always open.

  “She’s nothing to you. We can outwait you. Picking you off when you get tired.” This voice wasn’t a syclarion, or if it was, he was someone who had carefully learned to keep his voice clear of the distinctive guttural sound at the ends of words. They looked almost like giant bipedal lizards, and their protruding jaws were not conducive to common.

  Of course, whoever the speaker was, he was not ready for the obsessive stubbornness of elves. The captain and the rest of the knights pulled themselves up even straighter. If that syclarion thought telling them they would fail was a good idea, he made a huge mistake. They’d now die in place to keep me safe.

  Maybe I should send that syclarion a thank you note.

  “She is under our protection. You will not win. We have more troops coming even as we speak.” The snarl the elven captain put in his voice was impressive.

  I’d pretty much given up on Alric ever being completely truthful to me, but all evidence I’d seen had indicated the exact opposite of the knights. Yet I knew for a fact that they had no one else coming out. They’d spoken of it three nights ago around the fire. Because of Alric, the relics, and well, me, the elven council was not allowing anyone else out of the enclave.

  He lied.

  I looked to Alric. He looked as concerned as I did, but more about whoever was in the trees around us, than the captain’s newfound lying skills.

  “I don’t—” The syclarion’s voice ended in a scream. Low, guttural voices should probably never end in high-pitched screams.

  The rustling in the trees on the other side of us told me whoever else was there didn’t think their leader should sound like that either. At least judging by how quickly they were running away.

  A buzzing sound filled the area, and the sky grew dark as a fleet of chimera cons
tructs flew overhead to the south. I looked to see if Bunky was among them, but they all looked too similar at this distance. And in this amount. We’d first estimated about ten or so chimera constructs from the original launching. Since then those numbers had been adjusted, but aside from Bunky, who honestly seemed to think of himself as a giant, obsidian faery, none of them had been seen in weeks. There were a few dozen in the mass over our heads.

  The chimeras didn’t seem to be paying attention to us, aside from a brief pause as they flew overhead. Within a few seconds the entire incident was over.

  I let myself crumple into a seated position.

  The elven knights didn’t seem to notice, but they snapped into action. With the same semi-silent communications they’d used in their defense circle, two knights ran toward the two areas where the archers had been firing.

  Alric stepped up, but although he reached forward, he didn’t touch the captain. “You need to let me call my sword. I’ve given you my word that I won’t run. You have to let me help defend us. Her.” He pointed toward me. “They may have run for now, but they’ll be back. They want Taryn, and want her badly. We’re not going to make it back to the enclave before they try again.”

  The captain spun and took a step toward him. “We do not need any help. You forget, high lord, that you are a prisoner, and even if you weren’t, you are a spy. You know nothing of honor. Let us do what we do, and you await your trial.”

  He’d managed to make high lord sound like something nasty one might find on the bottom of one’s shoe, never mind that the captain himself wore the mark of an elven high lord. Apparently, being a captain in the order of knights outweighed being born into the elven aristocracy. At least in his worldview.

  I didn’t care who did what as long as I wasn’t handed over to whoever was looking for me.

  One of the knights, one of the pair who’d gone over to where the scream originated, came back dragging a pile of torn clothing.

  Very bloody clothing. I leaned forward in spite of myself. I was still sitting on the ground, seemed safer down here for the time being, and wasn’t ready to get up, but my suicidal curiosity kicked in.

  I shouldn’t have looked.

  I had to assume the semi-skeletal remains were that of a syclarion. The skull grinning at me was pretty much a bloody mess and the rest of the body wasn’t much better.

  At least my decision to stay on the ground had been a sound one.

  “Something went after the people firing upon us. Whatever it was, they were deadly and brutal,” the knight said as he dropped his awful cargo a few feet from us. He also dropped a broken longbow and empty quiver next to the body.

  Had I not already been sitting, I would have done so now. I knew of creatures that could do what was done to the syclarion. Moreover, they didn’t always have to come out of the ground.

  “Rakasa?” I really didn’t need to say it out loud, not for me, and certainly not for the knights and Alric who all looked at me with varying expressions of “duh”.

  “We need to pick up our pace.” The captain shouldered his pack and faced their dead companion. A few words and the body vanished. I hadn’t seen what they’d done to the knight killed by the rakasa two nights ago. I’d assumed they’d buried him after I’d been sent back to my tent. Most likely, his body went wherever the captain just sent this one. If they could transport bodies via a spell, I really wondered why we were trekking through the forest like this. Most likely to build character, or give Alric and I time to reflect on the evilness of our ways. Alric had implied his home enclave had been more than a week’s travel from Beccia. We were currently much further north than Beccia and heading southwest at a good march. I had no idea how long it was going to take to get to the elven enclave. I was starting to lose my excitement over it the more time I spent with these dour knights.

  Alric reached over to help me to my feet, but the captain was right in my face as soon as I stood.

  “I will not question it now, but once we are safely inside the shields of our enclave, you will explain why your life cost us at least one of our men.” Anger rolled off of him as if I myself had shot the poisoned arrow. Had the knight died defending a relic for the elven people, that would be okay. Now that it looked like he died because of me, that suddenly became my fault.

  “I don’t know who they are or why they are after me.” A lie. As I spoke I knew who’d sent those syclarion killers after us. After me. The mayor of Kenithworth. I tried to keep the fact that I suddenly needed to throw up from showing on my face.

  During our recent brief dig, when I found the emerald dragon, I’d managed to push aside the obsessive behavior of the mayor as overzealous trying to take over the world in general issues. Something told me that was a lot of wishful thinking. For some reason a number of very unfriendly people wanted me. I needed to find out why before they caught up with me, and I was pretty sure I was not going to like the answer.

  “Are you listening to me at all?”

  I shook myself out of my thoughts. The captain did not approve of daydreaming—or thinking, really.

  “Yes, I am. I am trying to think of who would be after me that badly. I assure you, I am a simple digger.” I ignored the snort Alric let escape. The captain didn’t look to be buying it either, but at least he didn’t snort and roll his eyes.

  “A digger, as you call it, who keeps finding arcane artifacts and can call an elven spirit sword, even though,” he paused to give me the official once over, “you clearly have no elven blood. Doubtful.” He didn’t wait for another response, just spun on his heel, and resumed our march.

  Alric stayed near me but his smile dropped immediately. “It has to be that bastard in town. He’s controlling or working with the syclarions.” He kept his voice low and bent down as if he whispered sweet nothings to me.

  “That’s what I think too. Good thing the rakasa came along.” Those were words I never thought I’d say—ever. Of course, I should probably ask why they went after the syclarions. Unless it was because they were one more block to getting to me. Not the happiest thought.

  Another thought hit me. “If the knights can send dead bodies elsewhere, couldn’t they just move us all to the enclave that way and avoid all this danger?” Building character was one thing, this was costing lives.

  “Even our most powerful magic users can’t do that,” Alric said. “The death spell the knights use is something specific to their order, and can only dissolve their dead. They don’t get sent anywhere.”

  “Come on, I want her up front, and surrounded at all times.” The captain didn’t even turn as he shouted his command. We weren’t moving fast but I knew that would change. The elves felt each step was precious, so they started their marches as leisurely walks then picked up speed until I had to jog to keep up with them. “Alric will stay in the back. You wanted to help, stay with the rear guard.”

  Alric squeezed my hand, and then dropped to the back of the knights. Possibly the captain was trusting Alric to protect rather than be a prisoner. Although he hadn’t given him leave to call his sword and hadn’t armed him in any other way. Not to mention, it could be that the captain was starting to get worried and was tired of losing his own men to sneak attacks.

  It was subtle, these knights were a stoic bunch, but there was a definite undercurrent of tension. More than a few had their hands on the hilt of the swords, something I hadn’t seen the entire time we’d been together. Moreover, none of them seemed happy about being near me.

  If they thought about it, being near me might be a safe place. The mayor, or whoever was leading the syclarions, had decided he wanted me alive. And the assumption could be made that so did the rakasa. For now, anyway. I had no illusions that it was going to be a prolonged status if I ended up with either group. At least not after I got this weapon built for them, or whatever other world-destroying thing they had in mind.

  I paused in my panicked mental rambling and looked around at the knights surrounding me. No one had s
aid anything about the emerald dragon while we marched. Considering the way it had made me feel, as if I wanted to steal away with it and hide from everyone I knew, I wondered at the knights’ unaffected condition. At least the condition of whichever knight was carrying it.

  I jogged up a bit to catch the captain, their pace was already increasing. So much for a leisurely start. “Excuse me, but who is carrying the relic?” I really didn’t want to say emerald dragon out loud.

  He first said nothing but continued down his path. After a few moments of me jogging along, staring at him, he nodded to me. “It is safe.”

  “But who?” I’d originally started this based on a hunch, and that hunch was getting worse.

  “The carrier changes each day. But yes, Holind and Findel both were carrying it when they were killed.” He looked straight ahead.

  I let myself drop back to the knights guarding me. So much for my great insight, he’d already made the connection. Of course, I was originally wondering how a knight was able to hold off the overwhelming sense of greed the green relic caused. Now I had that plus the fact that the two knights killed had not been random killings at all.

  A month ago, the rakasa had counted on Glorinal, or the creature he’d become, to sense out the emerald dragon before we’d even found it. He’d instead come after me. However, if they were right, and he could actually sense it, things were worse off than we thought. I jogged back up to the captain.

  “Where is it now?”

  Silence.

  “Seriously, the rakasa have a former elf who can sense it. You saw him during the fight. Whoever is carrying it is in danger.”

  “We are all in danger. We are still being followed, and there is a tremor underground.” He finally turned to me. “I am looking for a place to make our final stand.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  The fact that his voice didn’t raise at all, nor was there any sign of fear, panic, or even a passing concern on his face at our potentially impending doom just freaked me out more.