12. A Dragon's Grail
Astra realizes that a gift brought to her also brought destruction with it...
Escape from Ice Mountain marks the start of an epic fantasy, one where a middle-aged fish-out-of-water librarian (and necromancer!) navigates love, betrayal, and the complexities of power as she struggles to embrace her destiny and uncover the mysteries of her own origins. Yes, there are dragons too! And also magical dogs. It’s gonna be awesome!
Previously: Astra suffered a tragic loss and found herself on the run again...…
Both Traz and the soldier stopped suddenly, the soldier putting his arm out to block Astra's progress. Zochur and Hiloh were still a fair distance behind them, nearly lost in the dark.
“Someone is ahead,” Traz whispered.
“Why does he stop?” the soldier asked, displeased.
“Yosoi?” Astra refused to let her voice tremble.
Traz cocked his head, listening for a moment. Astra believed that his skills were a form of magic, because he always heard things before anyone else could hear them, and from even greater distances than the magically-enhanced rangers. He claimed there was no magic to it, but watching him “listen,” Astra wondered again if it wasn't so, because there was a tenor to his bearing that rang of something more than mortal. Then his expression darkened and his posture tensed up further.
“It is Dzrezor; he's at the landing where the Golden Eagle Steps begin.”
The soldier looked at Astra for explanation. “It is the doyen superior.” At the soldier's relieved expression, Astra shook her head. “He is untrustworthy.”
“You think he would trade for the destruction of Qordashi? Even distant kingdoms such as ours know of your piety and sanctity,” the soldier said, shaking his head.
“I don't think he would, no. But it is very coincidental that he hid in Jaga's temple, conducting a mysterious and unplanned ceremony, when the attack started,” Astra said, feeling the dark tug of suspicion. She repeated the same thought to Traz, who nodded.
“I don't like it either, but he is there, with some others, possibly rangers. I do not hear any Yosoi,” Traz whispered.
Zochur and Hiloh had finally joined them. Astra told them in hushed tones what was going on.
“He would not align with the Yosoi,” Zochur said with finality, moving to walk forward past Astra. Hiloh, though, pulled them back to his side.
“You are the sorcerer. Tell us what your third eye sees,” he said, pointing at Astra's forehead.
“What?” She frowned, because that was a weird thing to say to anyone, much less someone he thought was a sorcerer. Who had three eyes? She had never read of such a thing. She shook her head and started to argue, but Traz broke in.
“Too late, we've been discovered. Someone is on their way,” he said, a hint of fear tinging his voice.
They all turned towards the front, because there was nothing else they could do short of running back the way they had come. A few minutes later, the sounds of stomping boots echoed and three rangers followed, two brother nuns and a sibling nun. They were dressed in the livery of Jaga, marking them as Dzrezor's personal guard.
The leader stopped and looked them over, then settled on Zochur as the most likely to be the highest ranking among them. “Sibling nun? Where were you escaping from?”
Zochur, still held tight in Hiloh's clutches, straightened up. “The western ward, Mamum's temple.”
The sparse answer was enough for the ranger, who nodded. “I hear the fighting was fierce there. This way, the doyen superior is leading us to the retreat compound,” he said, and turned on his heel. The other two rangers stepped to the side, letting Astra's small group pass them and bringing up the rear.
Astra realized that the temple dogs were nowhere to be seen and tried not to be discomfited by that.
The landing where the Golden Eagle Steps started was a small cavern with walls covered in brightly painted bas relief images of plants and animals, looking almost like a forest. The moonstones were tucked in carved amber sconces, turning their normal bluish-white glow soft and yellow.
Dzrezor did a double take when he saw Traz, but did not directly acknowledge him. Traz stared him down, unblinking, his hand on the hilt of his sword despite the displeased glare of the rangers around them.
Astra stepped forward quickly and bowed. “Doyen Superior Dzrezor, it is a relief to see you. We barely escaped Mamum's temple. I am here with sibling nun Zochur of the Northern Ward, former nun Trazkhor, and the two remaining members of the Am-Ayat delegation: General Hiloh and, uh, his guard.” She kept her voice neutral, hoping not to rouse any suspicion.
“Hmm.” Dzrezor, an average man with light, dusty-red skin and pointy shoulders that made his smock sit oddly on his frame, still managed to radiate a dangerous hostility. He looked at Traz again. “Very coincidental, you showing up here.”
The rangers shifted uncomfortably, as did a few nuns of Dzrezor's entourage. There were about twenty of them total, half of whom were rangers.
Traz, for once, held his tongue. Dzrezor narrowed his eyes, but did not push the accusation. Instead, he turned back to Astra. “We're going up the Golden Inkstone Steps to the retreat compound. It will be a long climb, but I do not think any Yosoi will be waiting for us at the top.”
Astra bowed in acknowledgment, trying not to show surprise at the fact that he had not asked about Naboch at all. Given the only way into the tunnels from Mamum's temple was through the court, it should have been an obvious conclusion that Naboch had led them there. But he had not asked, and Astra was not going to volunteer the information. Dzrezor's entourage moved to go up the stairs and did not even set any rangers to walk with Astra's meager group, a subtle if unmistakable dismissal. Left with no other options, they followed.
Shining in the glow of the many moonstones lining the stairs, which were wide enough for them to walk three abreast, the Golden Inkstone Steps were gilded and adorned with the colors of a stunning sunset. The curved, carved ceiling was decorated in bright and colorful paintings of gods and saints and nuns, a work of art worthy of years of contemplation for each step they took, but there was no time to pause or reflect. They all knew that they had to keep moving. Even starting at a point two-thirds the way up Ice Mountain, it still took a long time to travel the stairs. They could have walked for days and never known it, and Astra thought at least several bells must have passed as they climbed, rested, and climbed again. The soldier stayed by her side, his arm often there to help her balance herself, even as he and Traz exchanged sour looks every time there was a pause in their ascent.
The stringent effort required to walk such steep steps so far up the innards of the mountain almost kept Astra's mind off of Naboch's death, and the fire dragon, and the great secret of the Dragon’s Grail. It could very well already be in the hands (claws? she wondered) of the snow dragons, but she wondered if they would even realize it.
It felt unbelievable that the Dragon's Grail, the cause of the death and destruction that had rained down upon her head, had been brought to the door of Qordashi by a man she once considered her spiritual companion. Obviously, he had no idea what he had done, or the significance of the “fire horn” that had once belonged to their parents. She had last seen it tied to the pack the fire dragon was wearing back at the Gate of Tears, and she thought with a bit of hysteria that she could quite possibly be the only human left alive who knew the horn's true import.
Because it was not a horn and had never belonged to a bull, living or dead.
It was the talon of a dragon.
NEXT: A Risk
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