Read Online Dragon War: The Draconic Prophecies - Book Three by James Wyatt - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: James Wyatt
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attempt to lead him out.”
“Havrakhad is a kalashtar,” Ashara said, squeezing into the little room behind him and closing the door. Havrakhad shifted away from her, though there wasn’t much space for him.
A kalashtar. That explained a great deal, though Aunn’s knowledge of the kalashtar was limited. They were a distinct race, not quite human, native to the distant continent of Sarlona. Their reputation painted them as beautiful mystics who had mastered the powers of their minds, able to communicate telepathically, move objects from afar, and perform other feats of what might as well be magic. It was a magic, though, that Aunn’s artifice couldn’t mimic or even fully comprehend.
“I see,” Aunn said. “Well, are you ready to get started? Would you like my chair?”
A knock at the door cut off Havrakhad’s answer. Aunn froze. It was late in the evening. Who would be looking for Kelas in his office at this hour?
“Excuse me,” he said.
Havrakhad, Ashara, and Cart shifted around to let him through to the door. He pulled it open.
“You’re here late, Kelas.” It was a man Aunn didn’t recognize.
“Yes.” Kelas hated to be interrupted when he had people in his office. He jerked his head back toward the crowded office. “Important meeting. Can it wait?”
The man’s face changed. The dark hair became sandy, tanned skin turned pasty white, eyes lightened to hazel. It was a face Aunn knew quite well, though the eyes were wrong. It was one of his own faces. It was Haunderk’s face, the one Aunn used most often when talking to Kelas.
Aunn fought to keep his pulse and breathing under control, but rage and fear fought against him. What other changeling was using his face? Did he expect Kelas to be fooled? Was he trying to discredit Haunderk somehow? Or was he sending a subtle message that he saw through Aunn’s disguise?
“It’s not urgent,” the changeling said, smirking. His eyes were everywhere but on Aunn, trying to see past him into the study. “I’ll come back tomorrow.”
Tomorrow, Aunn thought, I already have an appointment with Jorlanna. I think I’ll be out.
The changeling strode off down the hall without another word, and Aunn retreated back into Kelas’s study, closing the door. Ashara shot him a quizzical glance, but he shook his head and followed Cart’s gaze. Havrakhad was kneeling in front of Gaven, looking into his eyes.
Hearing the door close, Havrakhad stood and looked at Aunn. “It would be best if there were no more interruptions.”
“There shouldn’t be any more. Please begin when you’re ready.”
The kalashtar kneeled again, put one hand on Gaven’s shoulder, and gazed into his eyes.
* * * * *
Two ogres held Shakravar’s arms, the meat that was his body now, and a dwarf stood behind him with a bludgeon. But the dragon would not be restrained. If only he could emerge from this body, revert to his true form, fill the room with lightning and spatter it with the blood of his enemies …
The judges of the tribunal stared down at him from their high seats. They called a witness to give testimony—an elf, the head of the Thuranni family.
“Lord Elar Thuranni d’Phiarlan,” one of the judges intoned, prompting shouts of protest from both the witness and another elf in the great hall.
“He’s no Phiarlan!” came a woman’s voice. “He is excoriate!”
“I am Baron Elar d’Thuranni,” the witness said.
“The status of the Thuranni family is yet to be settled in the eyes of this tribunal,” another judge said. “For now, we shall address you as Lord Elar and move on with the proceedings.”
“Very well.” Lord Elar bowed his head in deference to the judges.
“Lord Elar, please state your claim against the defendant, Gaven Lyrandar.”
Hearing his name, Gaven woke from what felt like sleep, and found himself in the firm grasp of two ogres, rage and violence churning in his heart. What was going on?
A dark-eyed elf was speaking,
“Havrakhad is a kalashtar,” Ashara said, squeezing into the little room behind him and closing the door. Havrakhad shifted away from her, though there wasn’t much space for him.
A kalashtar. That explained a great deal, though Aunn’s knowledge of the kalashtar was limited. They were a distinct race, not quite human, native to the distant continent of Sarlona. Their reputation painted them as beautiful mystics who had mastered the powers of their minds, able to communicate telepathically, move objects from afar, and perform other feats of what might as well be magic. It was a magic, though, that Aunn’s artifice couldn’t mimic or even fully comprehend.
“I see,” Aunn said. “Well, are you ready to get started? Would you like my chair?”
A knock at the door cut off Havrakhad’s answer. Aunn froze. It was late in the evening. Who would be looking for Kelas in his office at this hour?
“Excuse me,” he said.
Havrakhad, Ashara, and Cart shifted around to let him through to the door. He pulled it open.
“You’re here late, Kelas.” It was a man Aunn didn’t recognize.
“Yes.” Kelas hated to be interrupted when he had people in his office. He jerked his head back toward the crowded office. “Important meeting. Can it wait?”
The man’s face changed. The dark hair became sandy, tanned skin turned pasty white, eyes lightened to hazel. It was a face Aunn knew quite well, though the eyes were wrong. It was one of his own faces. It was Haunderk’s face, the one Aunn used most often when talking to Kelas.
Aunn fought to keep his pulse and breathing under control, but rage and fear fought against him. What other changeling was using his face? Did he expect Kelas to be fooled? Was he trying to discredit Haunderk somehow? Or was he sending a subtle message that he saw through Aunn’s disguise?
“It’s not urgent,” the changeling said, smirking. His eyes were everywhere but on Aunn, trying to see past him into the study. “I’ll come back tomorrow.”
Tomorrow, Aunn thought, I already have an appointment with Jorlanna. I think I’ll be out.
The changeling strode off down the hall without another word, and Aunn retreated back into Kelas’s study, closing the door. Ashara shot him a quizzical glance, but he shook his head and followed Cart’s gaze. Havrakhad was kneeling in front of Gaven, looking into his eyes.
Hearing the door close, Havrakhad stood and looked at Aunn. “It would be best if there were no more interruptions.”
“There shouldn’t be any more. Please begin when you’re ready.”
The kalashtar kneeled again, put one hand on Gaven’s shoulder, and gazed into his eyes.
* * * * *
Two ogres held Shakravar’s arms, the meat that was his body now, and a dwarf stood behind him with a bludgeon. But the dragon would not be restrained. If only he could emerge from this body, revert to his true form, fill the room with lightning and spatter it with the blood of his enemies …
The judges of the tribunal stared down at him from their high seats. They called a witness to give testimony—an elf, the head of the Thuranni family.
“Lord Elar Thuranni d’Phiarlan,” one of the judges intoned, prompting shouts of protest from both the witness and another elf in the great hall.
“He’s no Phiarlan!” came a woman’s voice. “He is excoriate!”
“I am Baron Elar d’Thuranni,” the witness said.
“The status of the Thuranni family is yet to be settled in the eyes of this tribunal,” another judge said. “For now, we shall address you as Lord Elar and move on with the proceedings.”
“Very well.” Lord Elar bowed his head in deference to the judges.
“Lord Elar, please state your claim against the defendant, Gaven Lyrandar.”
Hearing his name, Gaven woke from what felt like sleep, and found himself in the firm grasp of two ogres, rage and violence churning in his heart. What was going on?
A dark-eyed elf was speaking,
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