Abaddon Summer

Chapter Seven

Then he left through the main entrance as a Kaulu stood there with a cane. The cane caught his attention first. He knew it was magic and an heirloom but had never seen nor read of such a creature before. The spells carved along the cane warped and vibrated as he walked by.

When he looked up to take in the Kaulu's face and commit it to memory to add to his list, he saw that it was the Kaulu representative. Who had looked upward as he entered yet looked down and met his gaze. Steady and firm, the Kaulu representative appeared almost curious as Jasor walked past him. He made it to the door before he felt...

Kaulu.

The voice whispered just in his ear, causing him to hesitate and turn as he watched the Kaulu and realized his mistake. This was not a representative but a member of the central line. Slim, average of height with brown eyes, no hair on his chin and a head full of thick, dark hair. The only thing off about the man was the heirloom cane.

If not for that cane, Jasor might have simply walked by and not noticed him in the least.

He performed his research across the following weeks, returned the books the usual way, then took a teleporter to Riverend. There, he approached the Hanged Man, went around the back and met with the child holding a golden nugget. The child took him to Blackmarsh, leaving him there. He stood just south of the teleporter landing. He looked up at the Kaulu estate, trying to commit it to mind, when the Kaulu representative appeared.

Jasor recognized him from the day Trathor ran his spell.

Beside the man stood a shorter, younger man, lean like the Kaulu was but wearing no pants, just what appeared to be the Kaulu representative's jacket.

No one could answer as to the new representative's name.

No one had been updated.

The representative headed toward Blackmarsh as his travel companion stiffened. He saw the companion's head turn just slightly, turning a little toward the northeast. For a second, Jasor considered moving forward and ending the wildling.

Nothing else would be dressed like that except a wildling of exceptional talent. Otherwise, the Seven would have taken the time to sort things out on the other side rather than quickly sweeping them off before anyone could get a good look at them.

The wildling headed after the representative. There was something... dismissive about it.

Jasor frowned at that but turned and headed south. He stepped onto the quickened spell, spun out between the stars and gasped back to life as a draconian breathed into his mouth.

"In case anyone was wondering, I do not appreciate travelling like that," he snarled as he shoved the draconian away and stood. "This had better be good, or your eggs will be boiled."

A draconian crouched before him.

"Wyver sends his regards."

"Fuck off," Jasor said. "What is this about?"

"A warning from his lips to yours," the draconian hissed. "The dragoness rises."

"Hiss a little more on your 's's next time if you really want to sell it," he countered. "You didn't call me for prophecy. If you value your tongue, you'd best speak true-true."

A draconian term that basically meant cut the shit, but was a threat at the same time. If they blathered again, no one would blame him for stabbing an idiot.

The draconian held its hands away from its sides. It was nearly impossible to tell their gender unless they illusioned themselves. Even then, sometimes the males dressed as females and vice versa.