Tarvick scurried down the gangplank and through the bustle on the docks, dodging the crew and passengers of a dozen different ships lashed to the jetty. Jasen and Hoff were right behind him, and all three men carried heavy bags over their shoulders. They were the only three who had survived the quarrel with the dragoness, and though each of them swore revenge upon her, Tarvick loudly of all, they couldn't deny a secret delight as they struggled with the added weight of the dead men's share of riches.
It had taken many days to make their way back from the mountains to Greenpool, and several more by ship back to Nautilus. Jasen and Hoff spent the entire voyage scheming in drunken whispers about what they would do with their sudden wealth, their plans spinning larger and more ludicrously extravagant the drunker they got. Tarvick was more reserved, unable to fully enjoy the pleasure of his success. The memory of his encounter with the hooded figures overshadowed all of his thoughts, and now that he was back in Nautilus he was eager to collect the rest of his belongings, charter passage on another ship, and put the volcanic isles behind him, never to look back.
Already past dawn, the crooked streets of the tropical city were still cloaked in the misty darkness, shadowed by the shoulder of the next island across the firth. Tarvick muttered farewell to the other two men, each of them knowing they would likely never see each other again.
If only Tarvick knew how right he was.
The inn he had been working out of for years was near the outskirts of the city, so he expected the streets there to be quieter than the constant raucousness near the harbour. But his long strides slowed when a malicious silence settled over him like a shroud. His heart began to pound and a trickle of cold sweat crept down his back. They were here! Somewhere close, though he hadn't seen them yet. In a panic, he turned down a dark alley, his grip tight on the bag of gold over his shoulder. It was the same vile chill that had preceded his first visit from the mysterious creatures, and he didn't want to explain to those cruel, emotionless voices that he had failed to meet their demands. His feet pounded into the crooked cobbles, and he stumbled over refuse and broken things as he abandoned his plans. Nothing he had in Nautilus was worth his life, not with the wealth he carried on his back.
He heard the windy whisper just as a zephyr of grayish mist erupted from the narrow corridor in front of him. Tarvick stumbled to a halt, his mouth open in horror as the gaseous form consolidated into a figure that had haunted his thoughts for nearly a month. Glancing up at the barely-lightened sky, all that he could see were the backs of unoccupied warehouses. Not even a window or alley-way door offered him a venue for escape. He spun on his heel to flee back in the direction he had come, only to find himself looking up into the pale face partly hidden under the black cowl.
Tarvick drew his crossbow and let a bolt fly at the man's face, only to watch in disbelief as the creature dodged and came for him. With inhuman speed, he slammed Tarvick against the wall with nothing more than an upswing of his fist, and the bag of gold spilled in a glittering avalanche across the filthy ground.
"Did you bring us the book of Nerull?" The voice was cold and cruel, and with a fearful clarity Tarvick knew that he was dealing with more than just mere men.
"Please! The half-dragon! She stole them from me! She took them even after I told her you wanted them!" Shifting the blame to Drachia would have pleased him mightily, even in far less desperate circumstances. The haughty sorceress was too enigmatic for Tarvick's taste. He preferred people whose motives were easier to divine and simpler to manipulate. The betrayal meant nothing to him at all.
The tall figure pressed close, the long fingers of a pale hand crushing into his windpipe with the strength of stone. With the other hand, he pulled back his hood to reveal a human face as unnaturally pristine as the merciless cruelty in its eyes.
"Where?" he demanded calmly in a tone that held no sympathy at all.
But though Tarvick's mouth opened with a gag to cough out every detail about Drachia he could remember or make up on the spot, he found that he no longer needed to utter a word. Looking into those soulless pits, fear consumed him, and as the vampire grinned with evil triumph, the treasure-hunter became lost in the enchantment that dominated his mind. His senses faded and he found himself swimming through a murk of icy shadows that only resembled the bright world he had known. He caught a glimpse of the vampires cruel and intricate designs, and his thoughts were bombarded with unwavering faith in a dark god and fervent loyalty to His cause. But at the center of it was an urgent need for The Book.
In return, the undead creature picked out of his mind everything it wanted to know about she who had tricked him out of the book he had been sent to find. He picked himself up off of the dank ground and wavered, blinking owlishly at the cloaked vampire. Dimly, he felt that he should recoil from him, but then a new thought entered his mind.
I must find the book.
He knew that the order came from the vampire.
I must find the book and kill anyone who tries to stop me.
He struggled against the compulsion, even when his feet turned him and he walked smoothly out of the alley.
I must find the books for my master.
By the time he felt the morning sun on his face as he strode up the sloped streets towards Drachia's villa with a purpose, the vampires had faded once more into the shadows, taking Tarvick's treasure with them.
--
Several weeks of travel had put Greenpool far behind the half-dragon mage. The land bucked and rolled underneath her wings in an exciting and ever-changing tapestry of sights. Verdant valleys dipped low and green with sparkling rivers splashing like winding serpents at their bottoms. She saw herds of noble elk flashing under the leaves of hilly forests, and admired at a distance gryphons nesting in their cliff-side eyries. Boggy marshes mired in mist, unbroken plains of waving grass, cities and castles and the clustered canvas tents of nomads, every mile brought something new and potentially fascinating for the dragoness to examine. But she didn't. It occurred to Drachia that the gift of flight was also its curse. It was swift and far safer than meandering along the earth at a crawl, but it was a lonely and distant way to travel, and some small part of her felt that perhaps she was missing something. She could expect to have many long centuries of life left if she didn't act like a fool, perhaps she could afford to travel by more mundane means and experience more on the way?
In her haste to discover the hidden tomb of the ancient paladin, Drachia decided to leave such a philosophical pondering for later. She hadn't forgotten that the book she carried was sought by mysterious others. Traveling north and west across the continent took her farther from Nautilus than she had been since the war. The Crescent Sea had been described and discussed at length in many of the texts and journals she possessed, and there were plenty of people in her past who had traveled from the lands beyond it. Drachia even had a painting of it in one of the rooms in her home. But it wasn't until the land gentled, sloping down and down until the curving shore stretched from horizon to horizon that she appreciated the tales of inexplicable beauty and wondrous enchantment that the area was famous for.
Long ago in a forgotten age, some world-shattering something had happened here. The stories varied from a simple cosmic collision to divine influence, but whether the awesome crater was the result of a meteor or the unknowable conflict of the Gods, the truth had been lost over time. As Drachie swooped down and back-flapped her wings, alighting and digging her talon-like toes into the white sand, she felt a faint thrum in her bones. It was different from the power she had been born with, the power that pulsed in time with her heart and sang in her mind every second that she was alive. This was something outside of herself. Something tied to this place. She gazed into the shining, blue-silver water, seeking past the countless fathoms and wondering what secret slept beneath those crushing depths. What was it that made its presence felt throughout this land after so many uncountable centuries?
Another mystery to solve some other time, perhaps.
Drachia spent the night on the shore of the inland sea, resting for the last leg of her journey tomorrow. The winds were warm and the waves lapped gently across the white sand, and the dragoness watched the lights shifting across the waves. Like the aurora borealis in the farthest northern wastes, the pastel sheets of colour flashed and darted across the sky in an endless dance. The waves glittered too, shining softly through the dark hours, not merely reflecting the sky so much as possessed of the same strange phenomenon. Even the creatures here were changed by the magic in the sea. While re-reading the Maestor's Journal in the shifting light, memorizing every detail that would lead her to the correct tomb, Drachia witnessed seabirds, turtles, and crabs many of which carried a prismatic bio-luminescence in their feathers or shells. She fell asleep under the stars, watching ships go by as dark shadows on the softly lit background of sky and sea.
The next morning the ghostly colours disappeared under the bright warmth of the sun, and Drachia let her wings carry her high across the waves to the high limestone plateau on the inner curve of the sea. The white walls and golden towers and domes of Starfall glittered brightly when they came into view and Drachia tilted her wings to take her course around the walled metropolis to the main gate on the other side. Perched high above the waves, the city was renowned as a hub for artisans and scholars and even as she landed deftly on the main road she could hear the intricate music floating from one of the many public pavilions and stages.
As usual, her aerial arrival had garnered some attention. She tucked her wings neatly across her back and adjusted her black corset-vest as one of the city guards approached from the nearby gate. Merchants and travelers looked on curiously, but as large cities went Starfall had a reputation for being more tolerant of non-humans than most, and while the arrogant dragoness typically didn't fear for her life in any situation, of course, she looked forward to being harassed less here than in most places.
The guard, an impressively large human with golden hair braided back behind his intricate plumed helm, stopped in front of her and stood with a fighter's easy stance. He had one helm resting casually on the hilt of a short-sword on his hip. He was wary because it was his duty to be so, but his expression didn't come with any additional resentment or suspicion, which was refreshing.
"Welcome to the great city of Starfall, M'Lady," the greeting included a short bow and the sound of his leather warskirt creaking slightly against his bronze chest-piece, which was engraved with the city's crest. "May I ask your name and the nature of your visit? Perhaps I can help you find your way?"
It wasn't a demand, which Drachia understood to mean that even if she deigned not to answer she likely wouldn't be barred entrance, but she wasn't too haughty to understand that a little cooperation would go a long way.
"Of course. My name is Drachia S'garsiath of the Mage Collegiate in Nautilus," she returned his bow with a nod of her horns and a brief flip of her wings. "My studies have brought me here, though one hardly requires an excuse to visit the beautiful Kingdom of the Crescent Sea."
The compliment earned her a grin. Tall as he was, she was still eye-to-eye with the man, and she was relieved that unlike some, this one didn't take that as a challenge. She went on to say "...I am especially interested in visiting the Prism Tombs."
"Ah. In that case I would recommend you go through the eastern side of the Crafter's Circle and look for the Temple of the Falling Stars. The monks are willing to guide visitors if you pause at the shrine to show your respects."
Drachia caught the man's gesture, his fingers rubbing together as though with two coins, and chuckled, nodding her understanding.
"I appreciate the tip."
He bowed curtly and stood aside, allowing her to stride past him and into the city. As she glanced back she almost felt bad about lying to him about the true purpose of her journey, but doubted that a mission involving bloodmagic and grave-robbing would go over well.
What awaited her there was a myriad of sights and sounds and smells, many of which were different than most other cities she had visited. It became apparent instantly why Starfall was considered the greatest hotbed of artistic expression in the known kingdoms, rivaled only in part by the secretive wildland sanctuaries of the elves.
In any other place, the colourful banners and festooned boulevards, complete with costumed performers and jostling musicians would have meant nothing less than a kingdom-wide festival. But such dazzling displays, fantastical and eye-popping as they were, were a daily occurrence.
Even the architecture was exquisite, and as Drachia picked her way through the hubbub she found herself face-to-face with massive base reliefs and towering statues centered in enchanted fountains. The city paths took her through trellised gardens and peaceful parks. As in Nautilus, when the dragoness glanced through the crowds she occasionally caught a glimpse of non-human faces. A minotaur here, a half-ogre there, many elves and half-elves, at least one other half-dragon, though this one had silver scales on his face. She even spotted a few individuals who appeared to have elemental blood in their veins.
At length, after the sun had crossed the sky into midafternoon, Drachia reached a white cobbled street that ended in front of golden double doors that stood open and welcoming. As she approached them, she glanced up at the two golden stars glowing softly on either side against the white limestone temple behind them. As soon as she crossed the threshold, her talons tapping audibly on the pristine floor, the music and laughter in the city seemed to fall away, replaced by the sea breeze blowing in through the huge window beyond the altar.
The temple itself breached the city wall, forming a gate that lead out onto the windswept cliff beyond. Drachia looked around and saw no one, but knew better than to think herself alone here. Above her, the golden dome she had seen winking in the sun glowed softly, filling the temple with a comforting, peaceful ambiance. The temple was fairly austere, especially in the face of the carnivalesque city outside, but Drachia was instantly fascinated by the altar. Like most temples there was a raised dais and on top of that a shallow limestone pool of seawater. Like the Crescent Sea over a thousand feet over the cliff nearby, the water shifted with a pastel rainbow of colours, even though its surface was perfectly still.
And suspended above it by some divine power that was similar but markedly different from her own magic, a large crystal star with slender, delicate spires, that rotated slowly in silence and reflected light in a thousand thousand slivers of colour.
Drachia passed rows of short pews, mesmerized by the wondrous floating artifact, and lifted her claws as if to touch it. Avarice reared ugly and impulsive and plans of theft and flight formed unbidden in her mind. The shiny object could be hers and hers alone and all she would have to do was grab it and make a quick escape through the expansive archway just beyond. It didn't matter that she knew nothing of its power or history, it didn't matter that she pledged no faith to the Order of the Falling Star, all that mattered was the shiny, shiny star...
She wrenched her clawed fingers back just inches before making contact and sank to one knee before the pool. Her heart was pounding and her body bristled in the aftermath of the mental struggle. Smoke plumed up through her nostrils as she took a settling breath, and looked at the star with a chagrined smile.
"I passed your test," she told it softly, and she decided that in this case 'paying her respects' was more warranted than she could have imagined. She reached into a pouch on her hip and tossed two golden coins into the pool.
"That you did," came a wizened voice from behind her, sounding wary and stern. "Not what I would have expected from a red dragon."
