Page 86 of Death's Mistress (Sister of Darkness: The Nicci Chronicles 1)

“Then how was the tale ever recorded?” Nathan asked.

Gloria nodded gravely. “That is a mystery yet to be explained.”

Nicci said, “If you know of this graveyard of dragons, then surely we can find a rib bone and come back swiftly.”

Though always eager for an adventure, even Bannon looked doubtful. “Sounds like chasing mist dancers on a foggy night.”

But Nicci had heard all she needed to hear. “Our alternative is to wait here while Victoria’s jungle keeps spreading, and hope that a dragon happens to fly by so we can kill it and take a rib.”

“I see. When you frame the debate in that way, Sorceress, even Kuloth Vale sounds like a preferable alternative,” Nathan said.

Thistle looked up at her with an intent gaze. “Kuloth Vale is real. I’ve heard stories all my life.”

Bannon rolled his eyes. “You’re not even twelve years old.”

Nicci turned to the gathered scholars. “You’ve been gathering maps to help us on our journey, Wizard. Have you found any that show the location of Kuloth Vale?”

“If no one has ever seen the graveyard of dragons, how could they make a map?” Bannon asked.

“Another unexplained mystery,” Franklin said.

Nicci did not give in to frustration. She would follow this lead, knowing it was their best chance. “While we are gone, the rest of you must shore up the defenses of Cliffwall in case Victoria sends more attackers against you.” Thistle slid off the chair, stretched her legs, and moved to stand by Nicci.

“The journey to Kuloth Vale will take many days,” Mia said, “across unknown terrain.”

“We have done that before,” Nicci said. “The sooner we leave, the sooner we will return. With a dragon rib.”

CHAPTER 67

The sketchy maps from the Cliffwall archives gave them a starting point in their search for the legendary graveyard of dragons, and Nicci and her companions set off with confidence. With full packs and fresh traveling clothes, they moved up through isolated canyons, climbing into the desert highlands, away from the great valley.

Full of energy, Thistle took point as they headed north toward a distant line of rugged gray mountains that looked volcanic in origin. The air was clear and the terrain expansive, which made the distances uncertain.

“Those mountains are many days away,” Nathan said, “even if we keep up a good pace.”

Nicci kept moving. “Then we should not slow.”

The wizard paused to wipe his brow. He withdrew a white kerchief that Mia had shyly given him before their departure, and he looked at it with a curious smile. “Let’s see if that dear girl’s spell worked.” He wiped the cloth across his face, then brightened. “Ah yes, moist and cool and refreshing. She promised me it was a simple, innocuous spell, but I find it quite effective.”

Nicci had been there when the quiet young scholar had given Nathan the white rag. Mia promised that the spell would always keep the kerchief cool and moist to ease a traveler’s burden. “Simple and innocuous,” Nicci agreed. “But no matter how gifted the scholars may be, I am reluctant to see them dabbling with any sort of magic. They are all untrained. Think of the damage they have already done, unaware of what they were doing … the melted archive tower, the Lifedrinker, now Victoria and her mad jungle.”

“It is just a kerchief, Sorceress…” Nathan said.

“And that is how it begins.”

Embarrassed, he tucked it away in his pocket, but she did see him using it often during the heat of the afternoon, especially in steep terrain.

They walked all day, taking only brief rests for water and a quick meal. Ranging ahead, Thistle killed several plump lizards to supplement their meals, not because they needed the food, but because she enjoyed the hunt.

By the second day, they left the high desert, and the terrain grew more forested. In the rolling hills they found brooks to refill their waterskins and even a grove of wild plum trees. With the simple joy of finding plentiful fresh fruit, they ate far too many plums, particularly Bannon. That evening, they all suffered from stomach cramps and knotted intestines.

The following day Nicci sensed an animal presence watching them, and she realized that Mrra had trailed them up from the valley. She caught a flash of tawny fur gliding among the low trees in the distance, staying close. Still spell-bonded with Nicci, the big cat followed wherever her sister panther traveled, but maintained her independence.

Nicci was pleased just to know of the animal’s presence. She sensed the big cat’s need to hunt, and with a distant thrill in her veins, she felt Mrra on the chase, the pounding heart, the taste of iron-hot blood, and the squeal and twitch of fresh prey brought down.

When Nicci led them into a small meadow in late afternoon, they found a bloody deer carcass, freshly slaughtered. Its guts were torn open and the liver had been devoured, but the rest of the meat remained intact. Nathan and Bannon were immediately wary that the predator was still nearby, but Nicci dropped to her knees next to the deer. “Mrra hunted for us. She’s had her fill and left the rest for our supper.”

The wizard brightened. “Dear spirits, now that’s a different story. Let’s have a good meal.”

While Nicci prepared a fire, Thistle and Bannon worked together to carve out strips of venison to roast over the flames. The girl admitted that it tasted better than her lizards. After the feast, they bedded down on the soft meadow grass, satisfied. The next morning, they wrapped some of the steaks in fresh green leaves, and Nicci worked a simple preservative spell to keep the meat from going bad. They carried the meat in their packs.

Over the next several days they wound through trackless areas and ascended sheer gorges that rose into more rugged terrain, but the sharp, volcanic mountains remained very far away.

“I don’t recall hearing of Kuloth Vale in my histories,” Nathan mused. He enjoyed talking to Bannon as they walked, although the others listened as well. “But I did read many tales of the Midwar, records of when Emperor Kurgan conquered the south of the continent. General Utros and his invincible armies swept across the land, and city after city fell. He had wizard warriors, as well as hordes of expendable soldiers.

“When he set off to lay siege to the remarkable city of Ildakar, Utros knew he would face extraordinarily powerful magic, so he needed a special weapon.” Nathan looked down at Thistle and dropped his voice into a dramatic whisper. “They captured a dragon—a silver dragon.” The girl’s eyes widened.

“I’ve never heard of a silver dragon,” Bannon said. “Are they special?”

“All dragons are special, my boy—and they have always been rare. Angry red dragons, aloof green dragons, wise gray dragons, evil black dragons. But, General Utros wanted a silver dragon.”

“Why?” Thistle asked.

“Because silver dragons are the best fighters.” Nathan waved a persistent white butterfly away from his face, which fluttered off to seek flowers instead. “But they are not easily tamed or controlled. Utros’s warriors did manage to capture one such beast, and they kept it chained and harnessed. The army intended to turn it loose once they reached Ildakar.

“But one night the dragon snapped its bonds and broke free, devouring the harness and then the handlers. It could simply have flown away, but instead the dragon took vengeance. The silver monster ripped through the army camp and slaughtered hundreds of the Iron Fang’s soldiers. General Utros barely escaped with his life, though the side of his face was burned, scarred from dragon fire. The silver dragon flew away, leaving his army a shambles, but General Utros would never go back to Emperor Kurgan and admit failure. So he pressed on, hoping to find some other way to conquer Ildakar.”

Nathan continued his story as they moved through the forest until they reached the crest of a hill, where they could see the towering black mountains rising closer at last. “But when his armies arrived at Ildakar, Utros found that the entire city had vanished! One of the greatest cities in the Old World, entirely gone.”

; “How? Where did it go?” Thistle asked.

The wizard shrugged. “No one knows. The legend is fifteen centuries old, so it could just be a story.”

“Let’s hope that Kuloth Vale is more than just a story,” Nicci said.