"What is it?" Rhea asked.
"It's about the dragon…"
Chapter Seven
The dreams; they were an endless source of pain. After watching Black Mountain engulfed in a fiery blaze for perhaps the billionth time, Saras forced his eyes open again.
He let out a desperate roar that shook the walls of his cells.
That last image his subconscious had served up to him was the final straw. No longer did his dreams end with the memory of Gillian's death, they now predicted a different tragedy. Different and yet all the same.
Rhea.
He looked down to check for her blood on his hands, but his palms and fingers were clean. Of course they were. He had only dreamed it, after all.
Saras shook his head and started to pace his cell. If he stayed here for another moment, he'd lose whatever was left of his mind.
He had been consigned to his fate for so long, the idea seemed ludicrous. But she was his chance at redemption, wasn't she? What good was another chance if he didn't take it?
And after he'd insulted her the last time she was down here, there was no way she'd come back any time soon. Or perhaps at all.
He wouldn't wait for her. This was the time to act. A dragon did not need to bargain for his freedom; he simply took it. The only reason he'd been locked up all this time was because it had been his own choice.
Saras focused for a moment, waiting for the beast to take over. His human body was too feeble; this transformation was his last hope of breaking through the heavy doors that stood between him and freedom.
But he was out of practice. His skin tingled and itched, but nothing happened. The laser focus he needed to succeed was beyond reach for a mind as cloudy as his. Still, he did not give up. Surely a thousand years of sleep didn't override his basic nature. Back in the day, he had often transformed accidentally, out of excitement. And now…
The more he tried, the more frustrated he grew. His body ached, but not as much as his heart did.
Finally, Saras could take no more. He charged at the heavy door of his cell, punching it with his bare firsts until his knuckles bled.
He was no stranger to pain, though what he'd endured all these years in his sleep had been pain of a different nature. The sharp sting of the fresh wounds on his hands provided a new kind of clarity.
Encouraged, he started to kick at the door as well. Finally, he decided to do a run up and throw his whole body weight against it.
That was when the switch finally flipped. His body changed in a split second. No more smooth skin and long, flowing hair.
Scales and talons, wings and a long, pointy tail made way from his unimpressive human form. He grew to three times his original size, and more than ten times his human strength.
The door could not hold him back, and neither could the two that lay behind. Like a snake, he wormed his way through the narrow shaft connecting his prison to the rest of the castle.
From the corner of his eye, guards scurried back and forth. One tried to attack him with a spear, but its tip simply broke off against his scaly body.
Saras ignored them. They couldn't harm him if they tried.
Before long, he had made his way up to ground level. Nothing, not a single thing about the castle, looked familiar.
Of course, in his present state, he did not need to concern himself with the layout of it. The first window he saw, the first whiff of outside air, and he smashed his way through the heavy wall. Rock and mortar crumbled around him.
Once free, he could do the thing he had only done in his dreams all this time. He could stretch his wings.
He closed his eyes and shook off the dust from the broken wall. This was it. This he knew.
The great outdoors smelled the same as it had done the last time he'd been out here. Nothing had changed.
Saras flapped his wings a couple of times, just to get used to the movement again.
Then he jumped as high as he could, launching his body into the sky. He made it to the tallest tower of the castle in just a couple of thrusts of his wings, then he circled around, surveying the land below.
The air was crisp, the winds were strong. Although his muscles ached still, Saras wasn't about to give up on his journey.
After a thousand years, he was back. This was where he belonged. Nothing and no one would convince him to go back into hiding. Never again.
Just what he was going to do with his newfound freedom, he did not know. His first priority was basic. He needed a good meal above all.
So he set his sights on the lands south of the Isles. The mainland was where all the good hunting grounds were. Surely time had not changed that.
When the war horn roared, it shook the castle of Black Mountain to its very foundations. There was not a man, woman or child who could ignore it.
It was a terrible sound, one that filled your heart with dread the second you heard it.
Rhea, for all her bravery, was no different in that respect. The last time she'd still felt hopeful, and riled up for the fight that she knew was coming.
This time, everything was different.
This time, she knew they couldn't win with what they had.
She had only just found out about Saras' escape when the enemy was spotted. There hadn't been time to send anyone after him, to catch him and drag him back to his cell. Rhea did not even know where he was or why he had left, when her offers of freedom had fallen on deaf ears.
She'd tried everything to convince him, hadn't she? She'd even been willing to trade her body for his help, and he'd just laughed it off. Now he was totally out of her reach. They definitely could not count on his help.
Rhea ran up to the armory where her soldiers had already collected, awaiting their orders.
"This is the moment of truth. We knew it would come sooner or later," Rhea began, addressing her army.
"King Weiland is a formidable enemy, but he isn't all-powerful. He lives and bleeds just as we do. The Sea Folk can and will be defeated." Rhea swallowed hard. Lying was not one of her strengths, but these men were going to go out there and give their lives for this land. The least she could do was try to instill hope in them.
"Where are my eagles?" she asked and scanned the crowd.
One familiar face stepped forward. It was the farm girl she had come to know as Eryn in their previous interactions. "My General. We are here."
"Fly high, take turns to send someone down to report back to me. I want to know exactly how many of the enemy we’re facing. Sea Folk don't have archers, so you're not in any danger. Be my eyes. Go on!" she ordered.
Although they looked fearful, their self-appointed leader, Eryn, whipped them into shape with a few more choice words.
That left Rhea with her experienced fighters. They knew exactly what they were facing, and their expressions reflected it. Some—perhaps a lot—of these men and women would not see the sun come up tomorrow.
Such was life on the Isles. You lived and died at the mercy of not just the forces of nature, but the whim of their fiercest enemy as well.
"Don't do it for me. Don't even do it for your king. Go out there and fight for your wives and children. For your mothers and fathers, and those that came before. Fight with honor and courage. Fight so valiantly your children's children will sing songs in remembrance of this day! Go win us a war!"
Rhea had never been one for speeches, but looking at the faces before her, her words had struck a nerve and inspired even the most reluctant among her soldiers.
"Yes, General!" they responded. A roar erupted among them. Some picked up the weapons of their choice, while others simply limbered up and allowed nature to take over.
The armory was no longer filled with just humans, but a frenzied mass of wolves and bears, each preparing for the fight of their lives in their own way. Shouts of encouragement made way for roars and growls.
Rhea felt strange watching the spectacle in front of her. Ordinarily she would join the fray without a second thought.
But she had a
strategic responsibility to stay alive for as long as possible today.
She'd fight, of course, but she'd also have to lead and strategize.
With her hand on the ceremonial sword on her hip, she exited the armory first and made her way to the boundary wall with her fighters right on her tail.
There, Broc was already waiting, as were Yorrick, Uri and Kelly.
"Is he here himself?" Rhea asked. "Or has he just sent soldiers?"
Broc nodded at the troubled waters below. "If he is, he hasn't shown himself."
Rhea stared darkly at the sea. There was not much movement, but her trained eye could see many bodies in the water, all seemingly waiting for the right time to strike. The calm before the storm.
Broc cleared his throat and stepped up to the wall.
"Why are you here? We have a truce with your king. Explain yourselves!"
A couple of hundred feet away, a figure emerged from the water. Rhea recognized him as the fighter who had challenged Teaq during their last encounter. He had fought the duel that had given them a truce in the first place.
"Lies! King Weiland demands the return of his daughter, as agreed in the truce!"
Rhea shook her head. There it was; exactly what she'd been afraid of when she first heard about Teaq's departure.
"You," Broc pointed at the enemy fighter. "I know you. She's your sister, isn't she?"
The Merman remained quiet. Perhaps he hadn't expected anyone on this side of the fight to recognize him.
"She's not here. Tell your father," Broc bellowed. "We cannot return what we do not have. You'd do well to think about where else your sister might run off to before coming to us again."
After just a few seconds of silence between the two sides, the enemy asked perhaps the most pertinent question of them all. "Your general. Where is he?"
Rhea's chest filled with anger again at how irresponsibly Teaq had handled things. This mess was entirely his fault. The enemy was a great many things, but he wasn't stupid. Just as Rhea's side knew the truth between the two star crossed lovers, so did King Weiland's men.
Broc exchanged a look first with Kelly, then Rhea.
Don't you tell him the truth! she thought, subtly shaking her head at him.
For once, the truth would not set anyone free. It would just earn them more trouble.
"General Teaq is indisposed. Your fight took a toll on him," Broc said.
Relieved, Rhea studied the enemy prince again.
"Produce him right this moment! I wish to ask him about the whereabouts of my sister myself."
Rhea sighed and shook her head. They might as well give the order now. All this talk was just delaying the inevitable. Nothing they could do or say would convince King Weiland's men that the mermaid was long gone. Before long, their precious truce would be broken.
Just at this moment, Eryn appeared in the crowd surrounding Rhea.
"The eagles have scoured the seas and come up with a number," she whispered in her ear.
"Go on then," Rhea said, bracing herself for bad news.
"They have us surrounded with at least two thousand men, and more yet waiting in the waters outside our boundaries."
Chapter Eight
What a relief. What a thrill.
Saras flew high, surveying his domain. The land below was lush and green as he remembered. Trees and shrubs sheltered his most precious prey from view. But obviously that wouldn't stop him. He breathed in deeply, then dove straight for a particularly thick cluster of vegetation.
His breath reduced it all to ashes within seconds. The mere sight of it filled him with joy.
What a pleasure fire could be, when nothing more than some trees were at stake.
He hadn't caught anything yet, though. So he repeated the process again and again, choosing any hiding spot that looked promising enough.
Eventually, he did catch his desired prey. Charred like their surroundings.
"Nothing like a well cooked meal. Not like the crap they started to leave for me once I woke up," Saras muttered to himself.
Indeed, it had been a very long time since he had fed the way he deserved. And so he kept going, pushing for just one more, until he was completely sated.
He landed in the midst of the destruction and allowed his aching body some rest.
That was when he realized he wasn't alone. Frantic voices shouted at each other some distance away. Luckily he was still out of sight.
It might have been a very long time since he was last here, but he hadn't forgotten the old rules completely. The mainland was a different place altogether. They were unaware of what went on the Isles. They did not know about all the creatures that existed there, and certainly they did not know about his kind.
The last thing he needed was to be spotted by some superstitious mainland farm folk. They'd attack in fear, and he'd have to retaliate. Keeping his hands clean of blood was his main priority now.
Within seconds, he let go of his majestic form, and transformed. Becoming human was a lot easier. Almost effortless. Now he was small enough to hide.
The only downside was this vulnerable skin. His transformation had lost him what little clothes he had.
Heat rose up from the ground he stood on, burning into the bare soles of his feet. All around, the fire had done a lot of damage and the resulting heat was immense.
It didn't take long for his body to become covered in sweat, and his head to feel faint as a result.
The voices who had disturbed him earlier were circling around his position, no doubt trying to work out what or who had had caused the fire. If he wanted out of here, he had to be quick.
Saras listened for footsteps and chatter alike, and walked, then ran in the opposite direction. It would be best for everyone involved if he got out of here quickly.
They were no match for him, of course, even in his current state. But he could think of little worse than being forced to fight and kill these people. He had so much weighing on his conscience already…
If he added even one more face to those who already haunted his dreams, he'd never be truly free.
It hadn't taken long for talk to turn into action. As long as they had no mermaid princess to turn over, the enemy would not stand down.
Broc had given the go-ahead at pretty much the same time as the Sea Folk commander had done so. Rhea watched with a heavy heart as the first hundreds of fighters started to emerge from the water and climb up the rocky shore of the island. She waited until they had almost reached halfway up the boundary wall.
"Attack at will! Make every blow count!" she shouted, as she unsheathed the General's Sword.
With feet shoulder width apart, and both hands on the handle, she took on an offensive stance herself.
"If we ever needed a dragon…" Broc mumbled.
Rhea ignored him. In all the confusion, she hadn't even had the chance to brief him about Saras' escape, and this certainly wasn't the right time.
"It would be best for the queen to retreat," she shouted.
From the corner of her eye, she could see two guards ushering Kelly and Uri away from the danger zone. Broc and Yorrick remained by Rhea's side, their own swords raised in preparation for the incoming assault as well.
Although they were all formidable fighters, they weren't at the first point of contact. As the three most prominent people on the boundary wall today, they had multiple layers of soldiers guarding them.
Just how long these defenses would hold was impossible to predict. But she wasn't prepared to hide herself away behind the guards anyway. Today, every soldier—every sword—would count.
Two thousand enemy combatants, at least. Rhea pressed her lips together in determination. The Isles had an army of not even a thousand, spread over the whole territory. Black Mountain itself housed maybe five hundred trained fighters at any time.
The islanders were taller, and in animal form perhaps even stronger than the enemy they faced, but what they lacked in sheer strength, the Sea Folk made up for in
determination and grit. They fought to the death. The only way they'd stand a chance was to do the same.
If this was their last stand, she would make sure to take as many Sea Folk with her as possible.
Broc was right, Rhea thought bitterly. A dragon would change everything, most of all morale. But Saras was long gone. He had let them down, had let her down.
The first Sea Folk spears clashed against the weapons of her men. Those who chose to fight in animal form charged and used their natural defenses as best they could.
All around was the sound of metal clanging and bones and flesh breaking and tearing.
Her senses became overwhelmed with the smell of blood, enemy and ally alike. They had fought the Sea Folk before, but this battle was on another scale.
Beside her, Yorrick had found his first opponent. Rhea did not get the chance to watch more than the first thrust of his sword, because right at that moment an enemy fighter slipped through the chaos all around and went for her with his spear.
She dodged him with ease, then brought down her sword on his shoulder. The damage was substantial, still it did not discourage him.
The merman simply switched sides and started to wield the spear with his left hand. They were fighting machines. His expression barely betrayed that he was in pain. It had to be considerable too, looking at the deep gash her sword had made. She'd cut all the way down to the bone.
What drive these soldiers had. Was it King Weiland's ruthless rule that kept them in line? Or was it something else?
Rhea was still fresh, meaning she could effortlessly avoid the continuing assault of the Sea Folk soldier's spear. She had quickly found her rhythm and pushed her doubts about their capabilities and lower numbers aside.
All she had focus for was the fight. This dance of death. Suddenly, with a swift stab of her sword, it was over. She had slain the enemy, but this respite only lasted for a moment, before her dead opponent had been replaced by two more.
Eyes filled with hate sized her up, then they attacked simultaneously. This was more of a challenge. Still, she was quick enough on her feet, and sufficiently skilled with the blade.
A Dragon's Treasure Page 5
