“Others?”
“The Lyric. . Mala. . RuuKag. .”
Drakis laughed. “Are you sure you really want to know where RuuKag is?”
“I won’t be heartsick if he gets himself lost. . or that dwarf. . or the chimerian for that matter. . but where are. .”
“You needn’t worry,” Drakis said, leaning back on his elbows in the sunlight. “They’ve gone upstream to forage for our lunch. They wanted me to stay behind to make sure you got here.”
Belag smiled and stepped across the soft grasses of the glade to the pool. He stretched out on the sands, feeling their warmth soak into his muscles and bones.
“So, tell me,” Drakis continued. “What led you to me?”
Belag’s eyes closed, and he frowned slightly as he spoke. “I was raised Khadush Clan, both me and my. .”
The manticore paused.
“What is it, Belag?” Drakis asked.
“My brother.” He sighed the last word as though with a final breath. “We both believed strongly in your legend-the prophesied return of the Northern Lords. Our clan holds that all manticores are cursed for their betrayal of the Drakosian Kings of the hoo-mani and that only by offering our lives to the rightful heir of the human empire will we absolve ourselves of our complicity in their downfall. We were so sure-both of us-in our faith that we vowed to find you. We became pilgrims, Karag and I, devoted to finding you and freeing our race from its shame and curse. We set out west across the northern slopes of the Aerian Mountains, hoping to make our way into Vestasia to the northwest. We heard there were humans in that region and thought that they might be able to direct us to you.”
Belag rolled over in the warm sand and thought for a moment before continuing. “We were taken before we reached the border by an elven slaver party though we put up quite a fight and cost them the lives of three of their group before we were taken. Everything after that. . well, you know too well. We were forced to forget it all. . everything that made us who we truly were. . we even forgot why we had come in the first place as we were passed from Rhonas House to Rhonas House as Impress Warriors. I have thought much on this since, Drakis, and I know that it was the wisdom of the gods, because by enslaving us-even in our forgetfulness-we were brought to you. And even when my brother. .”
Belag turned his face away, lying back on the sand once more.
“Go on, friend,” Drakis encouraged.
Belag closed his eyes again, basking in the warmth of the sun shining down on him from above. When he spoke, his voice was unusually heavy. “Even when my brother died that day on the Ninth Dwarven Throne defending you. . even though he did not know who you were because of the terrible veil of forgetfulness cast by the evil of the elves. . even then the gods smiled down on my brother and showed him how his death would have meaning.”
“I understand,” Drakis said in words barely heard above the splashing water nearby. “It’s my turn to watch over you, now. Rest for a while. . and I’ll watch out for both of us.”
With a great sigh, Belag relaxed into the warm sands and drifted into a deep and contented sleep.
Drakis, sword drawn, walked with cautious step between the towering trunks of trees stretching above him into the mists. He had thought Belag was right behind him, but, impossibly, the huge manticore had vanished into the dim, fog-blurred shadows of the forest, and he found himself quite alone.
A sobbing sound caught his ear off to his left. Drakis adjusted the grip on his sword and followed the weeping as it grew louder with each step.
He rounded a tree and stopped, letting his sword arm swing down to his side.
“Mala?”
The human woman turned toward him, tears still cutting marks down the smudges on her face. She ran to him, her arms quickly wrapping around him as she buried her face in his chest.