Isle of the Ape Page 3

  Chapter 2

  "This is it, my lady," the guide said softly, lest his voice carry on the winds. "This is where Alto slew the dragon!"

  Rosalyn slid off the sturdy mountain horse and hoped that her legs would hold her. They did, though she felt like they might buckle at any moment. The ride through the mountains had been long and arduous. Not to mention filled with peril of the savages who had been reclaiming their lands in the Northern Divide.

  "This is a barren slope with nothing but the remains of long gone camps," Rosalyn said.

  The guide pointed at a flat topped mountain to the north of the shallow hill. "It was in there that Princess Patrina was held to be sacrificed. That's where Sir Alto went and battled the beast!"

  Rosalyn smirked. "Sir Alto? He's a knight then?"

  "Well, no, but I heard tell he's some sort of noble to the Kelgryn. Even has Princess Patrina's hand pledged to him!"

  Roslyn's rueful smile faded. "I knew Alto once," Rosalyn said. It wasn't a lie; she had watched him for days until Therion had ended the spell that scried him through his mirror.

  "I've heard he is gracious and humble, yet the size of an ogre himself," the grizzled mountain man said.

  "You speak fondly of him."

  "He freed these lands and saved Highpeak not once but twice!"

  "A mighty man, to do these deeds alone."

  The guide chuckled. "Well, he had his company with him. The Band of the Dying Dragon!"

  "How fitting." Rosalyn sighed. "And tell, where is the merry band of men now?"

  The man shrugged. "Alto spends time near Portland—he owns land there—or at Holgasford, courting the princess. The others travel with him or returned to their own lands. Garrick, the giant slayer from the north, returned to his people last I heard. Karthor and Kar spend their time in Portland, as does Namitus. Mordrim—he's a dwarf, if you believe it—is a servant of Lady Patrina and they're in Holgasford."

  Rosalyn nodded. "You're well informed."

  "I wouldn't be worth the silver if I wasn't," he said with a wink. He glanced around and felt the mountain breeze on his face. "Storm's coming, I think. Summer's on but the dragon messed with the weather last year; it's not caught up yet. We should start back and find shelter for the night before the wolves or worse come out."

  "Why not those caves?" Rosalyn pointed up the hill to the extinct volcano Sarya had used.

  The guide hissed and traced a sign in the air with his fingers. "That's cursed! Not even giants will dare to go there!"

  Rosalyn hid her smile. "Have you known many giants, Ketten?"

  "What? Known a giant? Are your wits addled? No man talks with a giant and lives!"

  "Then you don't know that a giant won't go in there," she reasoned. His jaw dropped at her logic. She frowned and said, "I paid you to bring me to where Alto slew the dragon."

  Ketten flapped his lips a few times before he could make words come out of them. "And I done that! Now we need to be on our way."

  "This place is cursed?"

  "By the spirits of the dead! All them foul beasts Alto's men slew and the soul of the dragon himself!"

  "Herself," Rosalyn corrected.

  "What?"

  "Alto killed a dragon named Sarya. Sarya was a female dragon. Old even among her kind."

  "Right, so that made her more dangerous."

  "Does an old woman who can't walk without her cane seem dangerous?"

  Ketten stared at her for a long moment. Long enough that Rosalyn presumed she'd stricken him dumb with a simple question.

  "I'm going in that cave, Ketten, and as my guide you'll accompany me."

  "You're daft!" he blurted and backed away a step.

  "You said yourself these lands are cursed and none will enter them. We have nothing to fear from the ogres, giants, goblins, wolves, and other creatures of the mountains."

  "Ain't the creatures you need to be worrying about! You go in there and it won't be your body that needs protecting—it's your mind and your soul!"

  Rosalyn stared up at the cave and then looked back at him. She smiled and asked, "Do you have any idea what I am?"

  "Wh—what you are?" Ketten stammered. "You're a fool woman with more gold than common sense. None of my business."

  "I'm a witch."

  He gasped and backed up again.

  "Running won't save you," Rosalyn said. "I can make the stone beneath your feet grab you. I can turn you into a juicy rabbit waiting for a wolf to pounce. I can burn out your eyes with a spell and disfigure you so that you must sit to relieve yourself."

  Ketten stumbled on a rock that had once been part of a ring surrounding a campfire. He fell and grimaced, but tried to back away with his elbows and foot dragging his butt across the ground.

  Rosalyn pulled a crooked wand from her shirt and pointed it at him. A dark purple glow lit the tip of it a moment until silver motes began to swirl around it. "You have more to fear from me than you do the mountains. You will accompany me to the mountains or I will leave your smoking corpse here on the hillside for the ravens to feast on. Do you understand me?"

  Ketten's eyes danced around, seeking escape or a weapon he might use against her. When he saw nothing, he nodded.

  "Excellent," Rosalyn said, lowering the wand and calling back the magic that illuminated it. "On your feet and lead the way."

  Ketten rose slowly, wincing from the pain in his buttocks his fall caused him. He dusted himself off and glanced at her out of the side of his eyes. He turned away quickly and started towards his horse.

  "I think we'll walk," Rosalyn said. "A fine evening for a walk, don't you think?"

  "Was going to grab some torches," Ketten mumbled. "You know, for exploring the cave."

  "I don't need a torch."

  Ketten gasped and then turned back to the caves up the hillside. He started towards them, glancing left and right with every step. Rosalyn followed behind him, her wand in one hand and her other tightly on the dagger at her waist.

  Her guide hesitated at the precipice before he crossed into the massive cave. Nothing remained at the entrance to prove it had once been a stronghold of a dragon and her dark army. Ketten straightened little by little as nothing leapt out of the shadows at them.

  After they'd walked deeper into the cave and the reflected sunlight faded, Rosalyn risked pocketing her wand and retrieving components from her pouches. She combined two powders together and then poured them into a dimple she made in a small ball made from the rich mud from the swamp. The witch worked and mixed the powder into the mud and then pierced it with her dagger.

  Ketten turned and raised his hands in fear when he heard Rosalyn chant. She finished her spell and caused an orange flame to burst out of the alchemical mix on her dagger. A strong yellow light that rivaled a torch illuminated the cave. Rosalyn held the dagger out and retrieved the wand from her pocket. She motioned with the wand, drawing a circle in the air to let Ketten know he should turn back around.

  Her guide did as instructed and moved on until the passage opened into a large hall. He looked to his right and then his left before he froze. Rosalyn followed his gaze and found herself smiling.

  "It's true," she hissed.

  Ketten jumped at the sound of her voice. They'd grown accustomed to hearing only the whistling of the wind in the tunnels. "Of course it's true!" he whispered. "All of it, which means every breath we take in here is borrowed."

  Rosalyn dismissed his concerns with a sidelong glance. She walked closer to the remains lying on the cavern floor. Ketten was forced to follow or be left in the dark. She stopped after she passed the tattered and ruined giant boots, each nearly as tall as her. A few scraps of clothing remained on and under the skeleton but the meat and even some of the smaller bones were missing.

  "A giant," Rosalyn whispered.

  "Garrick killed this one," Ketten said.

  "How do you know this?"

  Ketten pointed at the giant's skull. In the center of its forehead there was a hole. "He used
Mordrim's hammer."

  "Impressive," Rosalyn admitted. She stepped in closer and studied the scratches on the giant's bones where the teeth of scavengers had torn away the meat. "It's been a little over a year. Our large friend is gone thanks to the scavengers in the mountains."

  "What?"

  "Wolves, birds, insects, and whatever else might live in these mountains," Rosalyn explained. "They're not as frightened of this place as you think they are."

  Ketten swore and spun around, staring into the darkness. "We must flee!" he pleaded.

  "I must see the dragon," Rosalyn said. "Take me to it."

  "I don't know—"

  "You knew that Alto's barbarous friend slew this giant," she interrupted. "You know where the dragon is. Take me there. The sooner you show me, the sooner we can be on our way."

  The guide cursed again and turned back to the way they'd already come. "Back there. The way I heard it, he took a passage on the far wall."

  "Then let us take that same passage."

  Ketten led her along the passage to the smaller cave that led up into the mountain. It emptied into a room complete with another skeleton, though this one wore a gleaming suit of a plate mail.

  "Turn him over," Rosalyn commanded.

  Ketten risked a glance at her and then muttered under his breath while he heaved the heavy armor over. The skeleton inside fell apart, allowing some of the armor to clang and crash across the smooth stone floor. Ketten fell back from it, his hand going to the short sword at his hip while his eyes darted from one entrance to another.

  "Order of the Dragon," Rosalyn breathed as she stared at the emblem on the dead knight's chest. She knelt next to him and set her wand on the ground so she could trace the dragon carved into the breastplate. "Who was this?"

  Ketten shook his head when she turned to glare at him. "I know there was a knight named Beck, but Alto killed him after he killed his family down near Portland. I don't remember nothing about a knight here!"

  Rosalyn scooped up the handful of coins that had fallen beneath the dead man before she grabbed her wand and straightened. "Let's go."

  Ketten picked himself up and looked at the different passages before he chose one and started up the ascending tunnel. Rosalyn followed him until the tunnel allowed for an opening into a great circular chamber.

  Ketten cried out and backed up. He held his arms out and backed Rosalyn into the passage.

  "What are you doing?" she hissed at him.

  "I seen two red eyes!" he said. "They was evil; I could feel it!"

  "Watch out, fool," Rosalyn snapped. She pushed his arm aside and stepped ahead of him. Light filtered down into the caldera from above but the distance was great enough to leave the floor covered in shadow. The shadows made it easier for her to see the glowing red eyes that gleamed in the darkness. She walked forward, her heart hammering in her throat and her wand trembling in her hand. She lifted the dagger overhead and hoped it wouldn't slip in her sweaty grip.

  "Blood of the saints," Rosalyn whispered in awe when her light revealed the corpse of the dragon.

  "Be careful!" Ketten called to her.

  "She's dead," Rosalyn said as she studied the flattened skin and bones of the dragon. Her eyes traveled to the far wall of the crater and followed the shadows up to the baleful eyes that followed her as she walked closer to them. In moments, she could make out the shape of the enormous silver statue. The light from her dagger began to be reflected off the many shining curves of the dragon and made the ruby eyes in its head glisten. "It's just a statue. You can come out."

  She heard scuffling and then some cursing before Ketten stood next to her. He shivered and hugged his arms. "This place is evil," he muttered. He saw Rosalyn pulling supplies out of her pouches and asked, "What are you doing?"

  Other than to warn him, "Don't leave the circle," Rosalyn ignored her guide and pulled out three candles from a pouch and set them on the floor around them. A fine line of dust followed, drawing lines that connected the candles. She grabbed another vial of a different colored powder and added to the diagram, and then she began to chant.

  "What is this?" Ketten spat. "I didn't agree to be part of no unholy witchcraft!"

  The witch held her dagger high and continued her spell. The flames at the tip of Rosalyn's dagger flared and erupted in sparks that shot to each candle and lit them. She lowered the knife, now free of the burning substance, and spun around with it inside the circle. She thrust her hand out and came to an abrupt stop when the hilt of the dagger slammed into Ketten's head.

  Ketten grunted and fell to his knees. Her boot to his chest sent him sprawling on his back. His arms and legs twitched as though he meant to move. The smoke from the candles drifted through the air, unaffected by the breeze, and surrounded him. Rosalyn straddled him and sat upon his stomach. She cut his leathers, baring his chest to her. She took another tin from a separate pouch and opened it, chanting all the while. She dipped her dagger into the dark ink in the pouch and then began to carve symbols into his chest.

  Ketten stared up at her, his eyes focusing once she started cutting into his flesh. He grimaced but did little more than twitch under the effects of her magic. Rosalyn ignored him and focused on chanting the words beyond when her mouth dried and her throat threatened to rebel her. She rose up from him and untied the laces on her shirt to loosen it so she could pull it over her head. She let it fall outside the circle and sank back down to sit high on his stomach, her skin bared to him and revealing the patterns of swirls tattooed into her flesh.

  Rosalyn wiped her dagger clean on Ketten's shirt and lifted it to her full breast. She cut into it over her heart, making the blood well up and run down the blade. The witch pulled the blade away from her skin and reversed it, and then drove it down into Ketten's chest in the middle of the circle of runes she'd carved into him. He stiffened under her as her dagger delivered her blood straight to his heart. She pulled it free and stood, and then stepped carefully outside the circle.

  She fought the burning in her throat and thrust her hands up into the air to finish her chant. Ketten collapsed onto the ground. Around him, the three candles had burned through.

  Rosalyn scuffed the powder with her boot and crossed into it. She pushed Ketten over on his back and said, "Your life is mine now."

  Ketten stared at her and coughed. He looked down at the blood on his chest and reached up to feel it. His fingers probed the smooth flesh on his chest. Were it not for the runes permanently marking him and the blood on his chest, it might never have happened. She saw him look at her chest and search for the cut in her skin. It was healed the same as his were. He gasped and coughed again.

  "Magic," Rosalyn explained to his questioning eyes. "The darker side of nature. Your life is bound to mine now. If I die, you will die. If I suffer, you will suffer. I will know where you are. I can kill you with a command, or maybe only hurt you, should you displease me. But you wouldn't displease me, would you?"

  Ketten gasped and shook his head. He rolled onto his side and then his knees while he focused on her. "Why?" he asked.

  "I asked around. Nearly everyone said Ketten is the man I needed. He knew the mountains like few others. He knew the monsters and how to avoid them. And he had no family. No one to miss him."

  Ketten's lips parted as he stared up at the half-naked witch. Rosalyn smiled and turned to look at the statue, uncaring of her scandalous state of dress. "We're going to be spending a lot of time together, Ketten. I need to stay here, right here. I have things I must learn and things I must do."

  "You're daft!" he whispered.

  Rosalyn smiled. "I see why you've no family. You should never speak like that to a lady."

  "You're not a lady, you're a witch!"

  Rosalyn winced. She spun on him and curled a hand into claws that looked curled around something. Ketten wheezed and clutched at his chest. "I am a witch," Rosalyn snarled. "I'll be the greatest witch who ever lived! I'll have power undreamt of! The power of nature and of dragon
s. What are the elements compared to those who can defy them or use them for their pleasure?

  "Do you see these markings?" Rosalyn relaxed her hand and gestured at the tattoos across her chest and arms. Ketten slumped forward and had to lift his head back up to look at her. "The last man I stayed with thought to enslave me with them. He underestimated me and he was an arch mage! I have what he taught me and his power now, just like I can take yours as I take your life if you displease me."

  Ketten straightened his back slowly and regained his composure now that she'd released her magical grip on him. "Seems I don't have a choice," he said.

  Rosalyn smiled. "You learn quickly.

  "It grows late and we have much to explore," Rosalyn said. "Fetch the horses and bring them in. We'll need food and if they run off or are eaten, you'll have to hunt something for us."

  "What if I run off?" Ketten asked.

  Rosalyn chuckled and tapped her breast over her heart. "You won't unless you desire a fate more painful than death."

  Ketten glared at her a moment longer and then turned away. He tried to pull his split shirt and leathers together but he had nothing to tie them together with. He scowled and headed back towards the passage.

  "Do hurry, there's much to be done," Rosalyn called to him right before he slipped into the tunnel that would take him back to the hill below.

  Rosalyn turned and stared at the statue of Sarya again. She moved closer to it and stared up at it, and then closer until she could reach out and lay her hand on the leg of the silver dragon. The witch gasped when she felt the warmth within. "You're still here!" she whispered.

  Rosalyn grinned and glanced at the corpse behind her. The meat was long since rotted away but the bones and great flaps of dragon hide remained. Sarya's hoard of treasure had been acquired and distributed among the realms of the north, for the survivors of Highpeak, the northern barbarian tribes, the Kelgryn people, and the final share going to the Church of Leander. Rosalyn chuckled. They'd missed the real treasure. It lay in Sarya's remains, both living and dead.

  She turned away and went to fetch her shirt. She had a lot of work to do if she was going to punish the man who had ruined her.