Laurell Hamilton - Nightseer

Keleios borrowed on Alharzor’s knowledge and took corridors thick with dust. The torches they had taken from the dungeon area burned steadily in the stale air. They came to a branching of three tunnels. Down the center moved a single set of footprints. Keleios knelt testing, their width against her hand. “A human, soft shoes, a woman probably.”

Eroar asked, “Harque?”

“Too fresh.” She stood, dusting her hands off, “We need to go to the left.”

Gabel asked, “But what if we meet the thing in the middle corridor later?”

“Then we do, Gabel, but we don’t go chasing trouble.”

They moved off into the darkness. At last a breath of wind stirred their torches, and Keleios motioned for them to extinguish the lights. She crouched at the tunnel mouth, looking out into a large cavern. The entrance of that cavern showed bright sunlight, so the hounds of Verm would not be a problem. Curled near that exit was a golden worm.

Keleios had never seen such massive scales, each one as large as a knight’s practice shield. The girth of the worm itself was too large for the eye to take in all at once.

Keleios whispered back, “How did you get past this thing?”

“Friendliness,” came the answer.

“Well, get Eroar up here.”

The dragon man worked past the rest to crouch beside Keleios. “Yes.”

“How do we get past it?”

“By keeping our promise of treating its infected eye.”

Keleios drew a sharp breath. “I’ve never seen a worm so large. Talk to it, Eroar, and I will help you treat it.”

Eroar stood from the rest and walked into the cavern. He seemed to explode upward and outward, becoming dragon again. He was a mighty beast, a living mound of sapphire and ebony, but he was dwarfed beside the great golden worm.

The worm stirred and raised an eye to look at him. The rim of the black eye was swollen. Milky pus oozed from one corner. The thing’s den was filthy and bare rock without a comfort to be seen.

Keleios felt anger that anyone could treat an intelligent animal in such a fashion. She nearly chuckled. With all that Harque had done, this was a small thing. It raised its massive fringed head to look with its good eye and nuzzled Eroar. They talked for a moment in common dragon. Eroar turned and motioned them forward with his blue-scaled tail.

Gabel hung back. Lothor pushed him, tumbling, down the slight slope to land at Eroar’s feet. The dragon hissed at him. The deep voice said, “I may break my rule for you, Meltaanian.”

He quavered, “What rule?”

Keleios answered, “Eroar makes it a rule never to eat humans.” She stared at him, brown eyes distant. “Watch your step, Self-lover, or you will die one way or another.”

After some coaxing, the worm lowered its massive head to Keleios. She spoke to the small green demon. “Groghe, fetch me some warm water and some clean cloths.” He nodded vigorously and vanished.

Keleios noticed the frown on Gabel’s face and asked, “What is the matter with you, Self-lover?”

He smiled crookedly, the left half of his face immobile. “We are risking our freedom to heal a worm.”

“Our word was given.”

He shrugged. “So?”

“Of course, you wouldn’t understand what a person’s word means.”

“No, half-breed, I only understand self-preservation.”

“Then get out. The cave entrance is right over there.”

“No, I’ll stay with you. You’ve always had phenomenal luck, even before you had Luckweaver.” He stepped forward and said, “And where is your sword?”

Keleios said nothing.

“And no golden bracers. You are only a woman again. Perhaps I could show you what it’s like to be under the scarred man. Only my face is ruined, everything else works perfectly.”

Lothor placed a hand on the man’s shoulder and said, “Enough.”

“Let him go,” Keleios said.

Lothor was reluctant but did as she asked.

Keleios drew Aching Silver from its sheath and approached the enchanter point first. “Do you know what this is?”

“A magic sword of Varellian workmanship.”

“And what would it do to a man?”

“Are you my teacher now, Keleios?”

“Answer me—what would it do if used on a man?”

“It would destroy his soul. It’s a soul-eater.”

“Very good.”

The cool metal rested against his bare neck, and he could feel the eagerness flow up from it. He could almost hear the song it sang. Fear danced in his eye, and anger.

The sword sang to her of vengeance, and she let a smile cross her lips. “If you ever come near me again, I’ll use this on you.”

“What would your goddess, Cia, say about that?” “We have an understanding when it comes to you.”

A bead of sweat oozed down his face. “I’m flattered.”

She sheathed the sword in one quick motion. “Don’t be.”

She turned her back on him then and went to the dragons.

Keleios investigated the swollen eye under Eroar’s direction. Dragon claws were not made for such delicate work, and the worm needed the reassurance of the dragon form. In the corner where the milky pus dripped was the head and part of the broken shaft of a spear. “Eroar, ask her why she didn’t ask for the spear to be removed.”

“She did, but Harque laughed and said it would teach her a lesson for nearly failing.”

“But how could she keep such a beastie as guard when it must hate her?”

“Spells. It has nowhere to go, for spells block its leaving the cavern.”

“Well, Harque is dead. The spells will fade and the worm will be free to leave or stay in a few days.”

“She is most grateful.”

Keleios drew a salve from her nonmagic belt pouch. Breena had given it to her as a parting gift. It had been brewed by Breena and had many uses, one of which was to fight infections. Groghe returned with a steaming copper pot of water and towels draped over his head and arms. He set the pot down with a small splash. “Here it is, Master, just like you asked.”

“Very good, Groghe, very good.” Through Eroar she warned that it would hurt, and she gripped the broken spear. When it came, she was tumbled backward. The worm reared above her, screaming in pain. A flood of unclean fluids mixed with blood flowed from the wound. The others backed away from the frightened beast.

Eroar calmed the worm after a time, and it allowed Keleios to approach again, but it was wary. She dampened one of the cloths in the water and began to clean the wound. It hurt, but it also soothed. The beast let Keleios have her way without too much trouble. When the eye was as clean as it could be gotten, she applied some salve just to the wound. “Tell her not to scrape at it. The swelling will go down if she doesn’t rub it raw against the walls.”

Eroar relayed the message, and the worm agreed to follow instructions.

“I wish I had bandages for that eye.” Keleios shook her head and smiled. “But it would take a storeroom of cloth to do it.”

The men led the way into the sunshine. Eroar waved good-bye to the worm. Groghe hopped along beside Keleios. Poth stepped daintily, not having gotten close to the worm. The scrub trees fluttered pale green leaves in the wind. When they felt enough distance was between them and Harque’s keep, they spoke quietly, still alert for pursuit.

“Harque has neglected her worm,” Eroar said.

Lothor asked, “How?”

“It could have been blinded in that eye if we had not come along. The giant worms are not

natural, but magically created, and are susceptible to many illnesses because of it. A little extra care, and the worm would have been fine.”

They broke free of the trees and began to parallel the beach toward the boats. Harque had several boats docked around the island. Using Alharzor’s updated knowledge, Keleios knew where a comfortable but manageable craft could be had. A dog stood on the rock-strewn sand. It was a hunting hound of medium size, white with brown spots. As they drew closer they could see that one of its ears was missing, not chewed off in a fight, but as if it had been born without it.