by Jon Bender
Rupert came back to himself, his eyes shifting from the dragon to Corin. “You shouldn’t have gone to the trouble. We could have met…” He trailed off, his eyes drifting back to the dragon before finally taking in the rest of his surroundings, the riders nearby and those in the air. His men were still keeping their distance, but now Corin spotted some unarmed men in robes. He had to hurry this along before they could regain their composure.
“Nonsense. You’re a cherished ally, and I value your friendship.” Corin made a point of looking about casually. “But this isn’t the place for friendly conversation. Are you going to invite me in?”
Rupert nodded absently, clearly rattled. “Of course. Please, come in.”
Corin smiled broadly, giving the man a small bow that was unsteadily returned. When they both stood again, Rupert noticed that Warin had approached as well. Corin looked at the death mage and gave a resigned shrug. “I would prefer to speak privately, but after the unfortunate incident in Bruxa, my mages now insist one of them accompany me everywhere I go. Magus Warin of the death mage school has the onerous duty of keeping an eye on me today. If you would like to have one of your own mages join us, I completely understand.” Warin stood passively during the exchange, bowing slightly when introduced. Corin saw the bones of the death mage’s arm shift slightly from the corner of his eye.
“Legith,” Rupert shouted, “join us.”
A mage in brown robes stepped forward. The man circled further than he needed to in order to avoid coming too close to the dragon. Reaching them, the mage tried to split his attention between the dragon and Warin.
“I have chilled wine inside,” Rupert said, turning and holding an arm toward the tent.
Corin stretched his smile to its limit. “Thank you!”
Inside, the tent was decorated in colorful tapestries and partitioned off much like Corin’s, except with three additional spaces. Corin had no idea what one man would need with them all. Finely carved tables and cushioned seats were placed about the room. Rupert led them to a corner with four high-backed chairs. Corin caught him glancing nervously at Warin and smiled inwardly. Taking a seat in the offered chair, Rupert and his mage took theirs after he had gotten comfortable. Warin remained standing at Corin’s side, crossing his arms to display the bones prominently. Corin hoped he was not overplaying the part.
“What did you wish to discuss?” Corin asked.
“I…” Rupert began shakily. “I received a proposition from Queen Deena. She has offered favorable trade agreements if I support her claim to the throne.”
Corin nodded. “She must know her reign will be brief.” He looked hard into Rupert’s eyes. The man was recovering from the shock of Corin’s unconcerned arrival on the back of a dragon. Now was the time to put him back on his heels. Corin did not like using intimidation as a diplomatic tactic, but he had no desire to waste time on the frivolous matter of one man’s greed. “Of course, you refused her. I would hate to think you went back on your word,” he said, dropping his voice low and removing all emotion.
“Our alliance is to defeat the dark god, not attack other kingdoms. You yourself made the point that we were not to profit from this campaign,” Rupert said in a rush.
Corin leaned back into a more comfortable position. “I have no intention of profiting. The treaty you signed states that any aggression against a member of the alliance will be met with its full force. Deena was a knowing and willing participant in my abduction. As such, she is subject to retaliation from our alliance.” Rupert did not yet know that Corin intended to replace her with someone guilty of the same crime.
“That is true,” Rupert said slowly, his voice wavering. “But you could forgive the transgression that was her father’s. She has expressed willingness to join the alliance. There is no need to waste men and resources in unnecessary battle.”
Corin paused. The man was making sense. Would it not be better to gain the kingdom’s support without a fight? Alexar was dead, and Corin could support Deena’s claim to the throne in exchange for her aid in the fight against Or’Keer. Was pride goading him to seek vengeance?
Rupert smiled and squared his shoulders a bit, likely thinking he had gained some advantage. “She has promised the full strength of her army and supply wagons to sustain it. It would be a shame to waste such an opportunity.”
Rupert elaborated on the benefits of the deal, but Corin stopped listening. Instead, he remembered a story Shana had told him while pretending to be Eleanor. Her older sister, Deena, had tried to kill her when they were young. The thought enraged him all over again. He could never trust a person who would kill a sibling to gain station. The rational part of his mind argued that this was not uncommon amongst royalty. Even Rupert had been the youngest of three brothers, once. And while Corin did not trust him, he was willing to work with the man. It made sense to agree to the terms, but he just could not. He kept imagining Shana nearly being murdered as a child.
Corin’s eyes refocused. He could almost feel the flames of anger burning in them. Rupert went quiet under the intense stare. “I will not forgive,” Corin said, his voice grating from the strain of not shouting.
“But Corin, you must see that this is a better, and more profitable, way to handle Bruxa,” Rupert pleaded.
Corin shot to his feet. Rupert and Legith jerked back in response, the latter raising a hand slightly. Through his anger, Corin saw Warin unfold his arms in preparation. He ignored them both, placing a hand on his sword and gripping it tightly until the leather squeaked under the pressure. Stepping closer to Rupert, he placed one hand on the arm of his chair and leaned in close. “My army is already on its way, Rupert. Will you honor your word?”
Rupert tried to push further back in his chair, his eyes darting from Corin to the tent flap. They heard a low, deep growl from outside, but Corin did not care. He was done with implied threats.
“I will,” Rupert gulped.
“Prepare your men to march. My army will be crossing the bridge within two hours,” Corin said. He turned and abruptly left the tent with Warin a step behind.
His anger was already cooling as they mounted the dragon. Once they were astride, Warin turned slightly in the saddle and gave him a considering look. “Not exactly according to plan, Your Majesty, but effective.”
“It was foolish. I could have gotten a lot of men killed if Rupert was any less a coward. Let’s get out of here,” Corin replied.
Warin shrugged. The dragon spread its wings and began beating the air steadily. The rider escort waited until it was aloft before taking to the sky. Corin replayed his reaction over and over in his head. He rationalized not taking Deena’s offer by telling himself that she could not be trusted, but he knew the real reason was that she had once tried to harm Shana. Why could he not sort out his feelings for her?
Chapter 15
The wind blew hot and dry against his face. The glaring sun forced Jaxom to squint behind the goggles he wore to protect his eyes from the increasing dust. His black shirt clung to his body with sweat as he took a small sip from the skin tied to his saddle. Water was becoming harder to find, the scarcity forcing them to stop at every small stream and oasis to replenish their supply. Below, the land was still mostly brown grass with barren patches of tan stone. The uneven landscape had slowly become a twisting maze of small, weaving canyons and steep ravines, their walls layered in different shades of brown, orange, and red. The colors reminded Jaxom of a subdued rainbow. He wanted to fly into them for a better look at the intricate formations, but most were narrow with sharp turns. His durgen could never negotiate them safely, so he satisfied himself with admiring them from above.
As he leaned around the durgen’s head for a better view, Adriana waved at him from astride her own mount. She pointed to the right where a large cloud of dust was hanging in the air. At first, Jaxom thought that perhaps animals, like the large herd of grassland deer they had seen days ago, were kicking up the dry earth, but they had not seen groups that large in
days. Only one other animal would be in this area in large enough numbers to create that haze.
Without touching the reigns, he directed the durgen to the edge of the cloud. The others followed him to a flat piece of land overlooking a smooth-walled canyon with sloping sides. He soon heard a familiar sound rising over the whipping wind and beating of wings. Landing away from the edge, he climbed down from the saddle. The sound grew clearer as he approached the lip, a low roar of battle horns, clashing metal, and screams of dying men. Standing a safe distance from the edge, he could see two clashing armies. One wore the tan livery of Ostega, the other a dark grey he assumed belonged to the Rilnormans. The narrow canyon allowed for only twenty men abreast, with little room to move. Neither side could retreat. Where the two forces met was pure carnage. Men brutally hacked and slashed just to gain a little room. Those behind the front lines stabbing through the press of bodies with swords and spears.
He watched the battle as the others landed and moved up beside him. “The fighting seems to be spread all throughout this mess,” Brenin said, coming up beside him. “I spotted an open, deeper area where the center of the battle appears to be. It might have been a lake at one time.”
“They have mages,” Adriana added. “I saw casts from dark priests as well.”
After a long moment of silence, Darian spoke. “What do you want to do?”
Jaxom hesitated, though he already knew what he had to do. Whatever side Or’Keer was on, they were on the other. There was also a good chance this was the army of Prince Sagrad and that Vaniece was with him. The way was clear. Jaxom only hoped that he would be able to maintain control.
“We could wait to see whether Ostega wins,” Laiden offered. “The five of us couldn’t make that big of a difference anyway.”
Jaxom looked at the apprentice with compassion. He was still trying to deal with his own fears, and heading down there would force him to confront them head on. They all knew their help could be significant in the outcome of the battle. “I’m going to the center. I need to find this prince.” He turned to look at all five of them. “I won’t ask any of you to come with me.”
“As if I would let you go alone,” Adriana immediately said. Her voice was filled with confidence, but he could see the concern in her face.
“Agreed,” Darian declared. “What if word got out that you walked into a battle where either side was likely to kill you and I just watched?”
Jaxom smirked. He had not even considered the fact that the Ostegans might consider him a threat. That left Brenin and Laiden.
Brenin lifted his bow and tested the string of his bow. “The king told me to stay by your side,” he said.
Laiden squared his shoulders and took a deep breath. “I’ll go.”
Jaxom nodded, feeling a pang of guilt. They were about to risk their lives to help him find his sister. Adriana would follow him wherever he went, but the others had been fighting for Ale’adaria up to this point. This struggle would be just for him.
“When we get there, we’ll have to dismount and fight from the ground. A flying target will draw too much attention. We need to find this prince and make our way toward him. I will command the durgen to protect Adriana and Brenin. That will leave yours and Darian’s to control,” he said, looking at Laiden.
The apprentice nodded firmly. “What if the Ostegans attack us?” he asked.
“That’s easy,” Darian laughed. “Just kill the nearest Rilnorman soldier. That should show them whose side you’re on.” Laiden looked at him skeptically. “Don’t worry. Just stay near me and keep those durgen moving. We’ll be fine,” the ice mage said with more seriousness.
They lifted from the ground. Brenin moved ahead to lead them to the dried lake he had seen. Every ravine and canyon they passed was filled with soldiers, fighting or marching to a fight. Jaxom did not understand the tactics, but guessed the smaller units were trying to navigate the maze to flank their foes. Sometimes, they met in the middle, creating a dozen smaller battles in the confusing labyrinth. In a few of those minor fights, he saw flashes of flame or lightning and the odd golem towering over a group of soldiers. He could never tell whose side the casts had come from before passing over and out of sight.
As they approached the center, he heard an incomprehensible yell from Darian. Looking over to the ice mage, he saw his friend’s upraised arm pointing north. It took Jaxom a second to find the five dark spots in the sky and knew immediately what they were. The bird-like creatures were not easily forgotten. The transformed shadow bodies of dark priests were larger than the durgen, with long, spear-like beaks and curving talons capable of cutting a man in half. A memory of Adriana battling one over the snowy forest of Kelran flashed through his mind, the sight of her fall replaying repeatedly. Without thought, he reached out to the other durgen and took control. He felt the slight resistance of Laiden trying to hold on, but Jaxom had drawn more power than he intended in his moment of fear and his apprentice was quickly overwhelmed by brute strength. Finding a clear spot near a large group of Ostegan soldiers, he directed the durgen to it. His friends would be safer on the ground than in the air. He heard someone yelling at him as they flew downward, but the shout was a distant echo, the words drowned out by the wind beating against his ears and the magic pumping through his veins.
Turning his durgen into the shadow bird’s path, he knew he was just barely in control of himself. His durgen was flying as fast as it could toward the five specters. The seconds dragged by as magic throbbed in his skull, begging to be released. Jaxom gripped the durgen tightly with his legs, relying on the straps to hold him in place. He held his hands out and gave in. Two thick coils of white smoke formed as he came in close. Three of the birds split around him, the other two continuing directly for him. Whipping his arms to the front, the coils snapped forward, knocking one to the side where it fell dozens of feet before catching the air again. The second was not so fortunate. Before his power had begun to change him, the coil had always been like a stiff rope. Now, when it collided at the point where wing met body, it hit like a length of iron chain. The impact tore through the appendage and sent the bird spinning away in two pieces, shadows streaming like blood.
Two more came at him from behind, their long-taloned legs outstretched to tear through his body. The durgen dropped into a dive without his having to command it. The risen responded like it was a part of him, replacing what his legs would do on the ground as it dipped and rolled in perfect harmony with his hands. The birds continued to stay behind him through it all, making it difficult to land a blow. To increase the desperation of his situation, the other two were now moving to intercept him. He needed more power. He drew in all he could hold. The world seemed to drift away, as if he were watching it through someone else’s eyes. Suddenly, everything was clear. He saw how easy it was to win.
Releasing the coils, he grabbed the harness and leaned forward. The durgen’s wings folded tight to the side, and he felt himself roll head first as gravity tried to drag him back to the ground. Half-way through the tumble, he looked down to see the battle raging below. He could feel the death there. Energy from thousands of extinguished lives radiated towards him. That was where he wanted to be. That was where he could obtain unimaginable power.
Coming out of the roll, his durgen whipped a wing out, spinning him around to face the insignificant creatures that were in the way of reaching that power. They were too close to avoid him now. The coils formed again, this time stiff and hardened to points. The birds reared back, flapping hard, but it was too late. His spears drove into their chests, the tips sliding into the bodies of the men at the core. He could feel them dying, their lives slipping away, and latched onto that feeling instinctively. The desire to contain that power was overwhelming, to drain their life energy, to feed his hunger. The coils began to change as he pulled the essence of those men into himself, his cast transforming from smoke into a beam of blinding light that pumped toward his hands. The pure energy that flowed into him pushed
the world further away with every throbbing pulse. He had only felt such power when joined with other mages. The priests died in agony as he fed on them. When the last of their essence was gone, their shadowy exteriors dissolved, leaving the men’s bodies to fall away. Jaxom knew that something was different about their deaths. There was no power left behind for him to use. He had drained it all. It should have disturbed him that he had utterly destroyed these men, but he could feel nothing beyond the need for more.
Jaxom searched the sky for the remaining two and found them fleeing. He felt nothing as he watched them go—no joy, no relief, not even satisfaction. He dove for the battle where the true power was, the transformed priests already forgotten. A small group of people dressed differently from the other kindled a memory, but he couldn’t quite hold onto it. They had worked their way to the edge of those dressed in tan and were fighting beside them. Something at the back of his mind told him to help them, but he ignored it. There were not enough of the men in grey to suit him. He realized he could fight both sides. What did it really matter to him who won? The small whisper in his mind surged with strength. It would be wrong to destroy the Ostegans. He was there to help them and find Vaniece. Jaxom tried to push the annoying voice away, but it wouldn’t go. Eventually, he sighed and yielded. The Rilnormans would sustain his hunger… for the moment.
Angling to a small area near the wall of the dried lake, his durgen flew low, just above the heads of the Rilnorman soldiers. Its six clawed paws tore into the enemy, clearing an area large enough to land in. Jaxom dropped to the ground, the durgen landing at his side like it was still a part of him. The soldiers around him stared in shock at his sudden arrival. Holding his hand out to the side, he quickly formed the coils and whipped them forth. The magic snapped like whips, cutting down two men at a time. Their increased power shattering bones or tearing away limbs completely. Soon, the enemy had retreated to a safe distance away from the pile of bodies surrounding him. Spears flew at him, and the durgen leaped forward, using its body as a shield. He replaced the coils with thin strands of blight and sent them out. At first, the soldiers ignored the small, coiling streams of black and white smoke. Their disregard for the seemingly harmless cast was a mistake they did not long survive as it slipped through the gaps in their armor. Never before had Jaxom been able to make the cast so concentrated and widespread. His magic burrowed quickly through the bodies of a dozen men, who screamed as they fell, their hearts and lungs punctured by the tendrils. None rushed forward to replace them.
