by K Fisher
“Where did you borrow that from?” He asked, hand rifling through his bag as he grasped onto some of the last remaining bits of fruit he had packed.
After the filling rabbit that morning and the berries that afternoon, it would be just enough to sate them for the night. Tossing a slightly bruised apple in her direction, he bit into one himself. She caught it effortlessly and slunk down to the forest floor.
“I didn’t steal it. It was a gift,” she said, looking down to the blade in her hands before using it to cut into the apple; her fingers sliding out of the way quickly when the sharp blade sliced through.
“It was my father’s. It was said to me that a powerful girl should wield a powerful blade.”
“He was a smart one, but did he teach you how to keep it?” Came a voice from above. A dark, hooded man stood at the top of the revine, one hand held high above his head.
He had been so silent neither of the elf had heard him approach. Not saying another word, his fist lowered quickly and it was as though darkness enveloped everything in sight. The trees around them seemed to blend into each other until it was only shadows wound around them. Like a trap made of darkness that kept them from moving and seeing. The two of them were frozen in place.
Dora was making a sound deep in her throat, panicked golden eyes on Alni as she faced him, only the twitching of her fingertips any indication that she was aware. His own twitched in kind, body seized up as the sound of many footsteps approached them.
The man approached Dora, hand reaching down to effortlessly take the knife from her grasp. His face was rugged and shadowed with hair, bright blue eyes clear and piercing against his dark skin as he looked over his two captives. He seemed to be the only thing other than Dora’s face that was seen in the darkness that surrounded them.
His fingers were glowing a soft blue in the darkness, the very same blue that reached out and held them in place, shimmering across Alni and Dora’s skin just as Alni’s magic had danced along the horse’s in Vayhlbrook.
“Grab the elves,” he said then, eyes looking down at the knife in his hands as twigs snapped behind them and the others continued to approach.
How many there truly were, Alni had no way of knowing, no way of turning his head to look and see the real trouble they were in.
“The name’s Atair, Guardian of the Bridge, and you two? You’re coming with us.”
The final thing the two of them saw as darkness took over the last of their sight, was the gleam of his white smile.
Chapter Eleven
“Guardian of the Bridge? Did you give yourself that title? Well, I’m Guardian of Desin, so you’ll do well to let us go. What’s so good about this bridge, anyway that it needs a mule-headed warlock to protect it?”
Alni awoke to Dora’s enraged words, eyes straining to see where she was and what was happening. The darkness of night surrounded them, but there was a small fire behind the shadow of bodies; a fire that illuminated the pathway towards the bridge. It was not too overgrown, a sign that it had been at least recently used. How often were others caught and taken by this man and his magic?
Alni was both exhausted of being in danger and excited to see more of the magic at play. Magic…his stone. There was no way they weren’t already going through his pack, thankfully the stone was tucked away at his side. The absence of his hunting knife was a clear indicator that they had been searched. Clearly they didn’t think the stone threatening enough to confiscate.
Alni closed his eyes and tried to think smarter. The moment they knew he was awake, he was certain they’d have to face whatever Atair had planned for them. If he could get free somehow…that was another case entirely. His hands were held behind his back, stomach on the hard earth as his left cheek rested against the cool ground. They were bound by rope, no shimmering blue hue surrounding his body. Atair must have dropped the magic when he was unconscious and no longer a threat.
Working as slowly as possible, his inched his hands down towards his pocket, fingers reaching for the stone as Atair’s voice spoke up. So close, he could almost grasp it.
“This is our home, now. I ensure those who cross the bridge to the west are not there to harm the humans. Two elves heading out of the Nevina forests when there’s whispers of dragon attacks at any moment? It doesn’t look good for you. What’s your business here?” His voice had lowered an octave, coming out almost in a growl.
“First of all, GOB. He’s a half-elf, so that’s hardly suspicious. Second of all, we are not affiliated with any group of Mallor’s. We obey the rules of the Kingdom and try to stay away from him. As far as dragon attacks? What happened that they need to attack this area? Thanks for the heads-up. We will be sure to get over the bridge and out of your hair before they get here.”
“Since when do elves need an excuse to send their dragons to mindlessly kill? Even to just make an example of things.”
Alni’s eyes opened, hand grasping around the stone as he pulled it out of his pocket. He could see the outline of Dora’s face in the fire, shadows of others standing around the flames. Before her was Atair, leaning down close to her face. He had one hand extended, grasping onto her chin as he yanked her head up to look at him.
“We here are all familiar with your type. I have dedicated my practice of magic to ensuring elves never harm another human. I cannot let you and your friend go to the castle to meet your army.”
Dora was responding, but Alni couldn’t hear her. He focused his sight on Atair’s hand on her chin, on his words that surely meant they would harm the two of them before they were allowed back on their journey. A life anew, work aplenty, the company of Dora. It was all being threatened and he was not going to lay there any longer and allow another bully to sway his course.
The stone was burning, a tingling down his fingertips and then back up his wrists. The rope singed, falling and allowing his shoulders and arms the freedom to slowly adjust. Rolling to his back suddenly, he was vaguely aware of movement near him as one of the captors noticed his escape. He extended one hand towards Atair, a blast of shimmering purple light erupting from his fingertips as he sent the Guardian of the Bridge flying towards the fire, his body narrowly missing the leaping flames.
Alni was already moving forward, regaining control of his mind and limbs as he barreled towards the fire, hands lit with power and the stone clenched tightly. He only stopped when he was near Dora, staring down the one who had interrupted their journey. Atair jumped up, stopping the men who had assisted him before with one hand.
“Don’t attack him, stop,” he said, words clipped as he slowly rose to his feet.
With a grunt, Atair straightened his back and turned to Alni. His hands were the light blue once more, eyes glowing in kind as he smiled.
“Okay boy, we can play the magic game. It seems things have…significantly changed, my comrades. Step aside for a show.”
Dora was staring at Alni like he’d grown another leg, eyes wide and panicked as her body huddled down near him. A moment later, the spell was broken and she had risen up to her knees, waddling towards him as she yelled out.
“Get him, Alni! Blow this warlock away with your…freakishly unexplained magic,” she seemed to swing her shoulders then like they were fists hitting imaginary foes.
Alni’s heart was beating wildly, everything around him seeming fuzzy as he focused on Atair. He had no training, only out of control bursts of magic that had landed him into far more terrible situations than good. Power held in a stone at first, taken from his parents’ things after their death, but now, Alni knew some of that magic would be able to be called even if the stone lay several feet away. It had somehow connected with him, wanted to protect him.
It was terrifying and powerful, something out of control and yet a part of him. Something he was openly using now before Dora and these strange men; against a seasoned magic user. There was no part of Alni that truly believed he’d be able to best Atair but after sending him sprawling a moment before? He was willing to t
ry for their freedom and clearly he could do something.
“If you give up, you let us go. If you best us, you can dismember us or whatever you had planned,” Alni spoke out, focusing once more as the magic throbbed through his body.
“Dismember? Come now, Alni. Don’t give the man any ideas,” Dora murmured behind him.
“Well aren’t you confident. I don’t know how an elf possesses magic but your trick will soon come to an end, I assure you. Nonetheless, I’ll play your little game. Freedom if you can best me.”
Atair stood straight, glowing hands up by his face as if to protect it, the blue illuminating every shadow.
He lunged forward and springs of light blue magic escaped his hands, landing on the ground a foot from Alni’s body. They wiggled against the grass before rearing up, resembling large snakes contrived of magic. Hissing and biting out towards Alni, he jumped back, hands extended towards Atair as he tried to bring up more of the power he knew very little about.
“That the only attack you know, boy? This will end quickly,” Atair laughed, using the moment of distraction to send another wave of magic towards Alni.
This time, the force of it hit Alni, sending his body back towards the forest’s edge.
He was vaguely aware of Dora yelling out his name and the stream roaring by. Alni rose and it felt out of his own control, like he was a puppet to some higher power. He looked down to his hands, to the shimmering purple hue that crept up his forearms and rose higher still. He was once again facing Atair, who was laughing so hard he was hunched over his knees.
Like the boar had been, the boys who harmed him. The people who had killed his parents and left him alone. They were always laughing at him and although he had spent a great many years suppressing the emotions raging through him, at this moment in time it had all spilled over.
Atair started to move towards Dora, ignoring Alni entirely. But before he could take another step, Alni had leaned down, palms open and pressed against the earth. The stone was throbbing in his palm, pushing into the ground as he unleashed power out of his control.
A smoke of purple magic erupted from the ground around Atair, making him stagger backwards. He was reaching his hands down towards it, attempting to conjure something to defeat the mist but nothing appeared to be working. The mist reached up, outlining an enormous form before Atair.
It was a dragon, eyes sparking purple flames that spit towards Atair, singeing the edges of his cloak. When it lowered its head and roared, an eruption of magic smashed into the warlock. This time, instead of being blown backwards towards the fire once more, he was knocked to his knees by the power.
The moment his body made contact with the ground, the purple mist disappeared. The dragon sucking back down into the earth and leaving nothing behind but the silent, dead air.
“No more…” was all Atair said, eyes wide as he stared at Alni, visibly shaken.
He pointed one finger towards Alni, speaking words that sent shivers down his spine and rendered him motionless.
“I’ve seen that power before…The Mystic Dragon has been shown to me before…”
This time Atair turned to his group, eyes wide as they all took a step closer to their leader. Dora’s mouth was agape as she looked to Alni, the weight of Atair’s next words settling into the dead air around them.
“He has the Stone of Dragons.”
Chapter Twelve
“Mom? Dad?”
Alni rummaged desperately through the debris before him; ash sticking to his hands and coating his body and clothing. Nothing could have survived the fire, but still he searched and searched.
By the cottages across the way, Orlon and his group stood. They did not smile and laugh but their presence during this life-altering moment for Alni was offensive enough. Their eyes bore into Alni while he dug, no pity there while his parents remained buried by the fire.
Some of the villagers found what had remained of his parents not long after, finally deciding to assist despite their own suspicions that Alni had been the very one to set the flames. He had been gone, off to purchase some necessities as his parents had requested. The young lad had been far away when the fire was set and his parents trapped within, running to get to them the moment he heard of what happened.
Very little survived the fire and it had been almost impossible to tame once it began. The fire tore through his memories and his childhood as if it were nothing, leaving behind only a small barn and the animals within on the outskirts of their farmland. Only two other objects were retrieved from the ashes left behind, a hunting knife of his fathers, and the slab of purple stone his mother had always carried with her. The villager that had found the items on his parent’s bodies had no way of knowing the stone he handed to the young boy held such powers.
Alni slowly discovered the magic during his times of distress. When he was alone in the barn, mourning the death of his parents, the magic would swarm around him, slowly coaxing him into a slumber. Like a close friend, it remained there for him. But like a close friend, it was also unpredictable. Just as often as it comforted, it stabbed him in the back. Just when he felt he had a grasp of the magic, that it was friend not foe, it would lash out at another against his control.
But he could never bring himself to let go of it. His parents had held it close, it was one of the only things he had left of theirs. A death that had rose a great many questions within him, a great many suspicions that he prayed would come to light.
His father was an elf, ex-communicated from the inner Kingdoms after his decision to marry a human. Although his mother was capable of being trapped in a fire, his father would have never allowed her to burn. His speed and strength would have easily beaten out the growing flames. They had been trapped and unable to leave, Alni was sure of it.
Had it not been for the bones left behind, the charred flesh he had seen from far away, Alni would have questioned whether they had truly died in the fire.
The stone slowly became a part of him, a constant companion that allowed him an escape he could never have on his own. A companion that soon taught him he could have the power without it. Yet still he did not let it go.
When the magical dragon came to his dreams the night of his parent’s death, while he slept with the stone in hand, it had spoken to him like his mother. Talking him out of his grief, telling Alni to hold his head high and take the next day anew. Although the words came from the lips of a creature, it calmed him and destroyed lingering nightmares when he needed it the most.
It was the very same dragon that had come to his aide when Atair attacked, the Mystic Dragon.
But just as it had the night of his parents’ death, the appearance of such magic lingered behind long after it disappeared. The trail it left behind was easily sought out and tracked by a darker presence, one that had long hunted for the remaining piece of stone.
Mallor had waited for the power within to show itself once again, for the Mystic Dragon to lead the way to what he needed the most. When it appeared to protect Alni, every dragon within a hundred miles felt its presence, the magic whispering through the woods. The stone calling to its other part, to what would make it whole once more.
Stopping when it reached the wrong ears.
~
Dora sat close to Alni near the fire, not saying a word after the display of magic earlier. It was clear he hadn’t scared her off, the heat of her body against his radiating through him. Although Alni was half convinced it wasn’t out of fondness. She still didn’t trust the group around them but at least trusted him a bit more. Even if they had temporarily dropped the fight against them and offered food.
Alni had dug into the veal given to him, but she had not had a single bite. Her long ears pinned against her head every time Atair uttered a word, body leaning into Alni ever closer.
“Why would you go ever closer to Castle Mallor with the shard? How can we trust that you are not set to return it to the rest and restore full control?” Atair said then, head lowering as he
took a bite of the veal leg.
The well-cooked meat dribbled down his face as his bright blue eyes fixed on the two of them. Although he had dropped the fight, they all kept a close eye on them, weapons at the ready as his comrades sat near the fire and ate.
“I did not know it was the Stone of Dragons. I mean…we all know the stories but how was I to assume it was with my parents?” Alni retorted, keeping the stone close and tucked at his side, within grasp but not to threaten them.
“You travel for work, for a home. We can offer you that here, stay and help protect our people as this war begins, Alni. You and your elf partner. Do not deliver it nearer to them. The King must be killed before he does more damage, the dragons set free. I believe the dragon you spoke of earlier…she must work for him, was bringing you to him. Maybe the stone can be used on this side…to bring more dragons to our aid,” there was a desperation in Atair’s voice, one that Alni did not expect to hear from him.
He leaned forward and looked at the men at his side, all upright and eating slowly, assessing the situation around them as they waited for any reason to turn on the elves. But Alni didn’t blame them.
“I want to introduce you two to some others, in good faith,” Atair said then, hand lowering to a small metal piece around his neck.
Using one hand to wipe his mouth free of the meat’s juice, he lifted the object to his lips and blew.
A whistle broke through the forest and a rustling soon followed. Movement by the bridge behind Atair caught Alni and Dora’s eyes, small shadows coming from beneath the stone walls. Soon dozens of women and children appeared by the fire, looking to the newcomers with interest as they cautiously began getting themselves bits of the veal.
A small boy was brave enough to come over to Alni and Dora’s log, meat in hand as he hopped up to take a seat. Alni inched over to Dora, hand lowering to her leg for a brief moment as he did so. An involuntary movement to ensure there was space but even as his hand left her leg, a buzz remained. One that brought everything out of focus for a moment, only Atair’s voice dragging him back.
