§
“Aeron?” Frawnden clipped her sword sheath onto her belt.
“Yes, my love?” Stringing his bow, Aeron slipped it over his shoulder.
Their gaze strayed to their children as they walked out of the woods.
Trojan and Stephania were returning from a walk they had taken earlier that morning. Both were very solemn and quiet. They knew that this was their last day together, but neither wanted to mention it. It was hard to understand why she had to leave them.
“Do you think, um …” She looked down at her knife, tracing its sharp edge with her finger. “Do you think we have to leave her? Maybe we could stay or—” Frawnden broke off suddenly, her eyes wide. “Did you hear that?” Her heart thumped frantically, and dread filled her.
Before Aeron could answer, a horrific screech rent the air.
Stephania screamed as a large, dark bird dove out of the air toward her.
Trojan drew out his shining sword and sliced the bird clean in two, its black blood glistening on the blue blade.
The air was rent with the eerie screeches of thousands of Etas, most of them large mutated birds.
“Trojan!” Artigal quickly shot an arrow into the heart of another diving bird, the next arrow fixed on his string in a matter of seconds. “Take Stephania and run west! I’m right behind you!”
Trojan swept the young Duvarharian up onto his back and charged into the forest, quickly disappearing.
Grimacing with the pain that coursed through his chest and body, Artigal shot down two Etas with one arrow before collapsing to his knees. Black veins spread from his chest up to his face.
Aeron was by his side in a second, shaking Artigal’s shoulders.
“Artigal, look at me! Focus!”
Artigal coughed, trying to draw a breath. His eyes were dull and rolled into the back of his head.
“Shaif zuru!” Aeron slapped the Igentis’ face, but the old Centaur was unresponsive.
“What’s wrong?” Frawnden was frantically digging through her medical bag.
“Dark magic. Find something for dark magic.”
Frawnden’s face went white. “Dark magic?”
He could only nod. His eyes landed on Artigal’s pack. Surely Artigal would bring something in case this happened. He tore open the satchel and pulled out the branch. He shook his head. The Magic he was sensing from the branch was very depleted. Of course Artigal would put his faith in something so small and simple. A smile almost spread across Aeron’s face; those who didn’t understand Pure Magic might think the Igentis was superstitious. But he wasted no time in tearing the seal from the jar’s lid and stuffing the branch into Artigal’s hand. The white magic from the leaves seeped into Artigal’s arm, and he shuddered. Aeron prayed it would at least be enough to buy Frawnden some time.
The healer, confused and terrified, was frantically searching through her bag. “I don’t have anything for Dark magic.” She started to panic, until her fingers wrapped around a very small vial. She pulled it out, and both she and Aeron stared at the simple red bottle. In it were two small berries—Negluu berries, sometimes known as fire mountain berries or even Jok Kukeb, meaning instant death.
They were the most powerful ingredient known to healers and were known for killing people instantly if not used correctly. They seemed to jump and bite with their own powerful energy, as if made entirely out of magic.
“I can’t do it.” She swallowed hard. She held the bottle to him, her hand shaking. Though the Negluu berries could banish the Dark Magic, they could also kill Artigal. This was the best they had. It seemed hopeless.
Aeron’s face was dark and emotionless. He could feel Artigal’s breath slowing down, and he knew they didn’t have much time. Most of the Etas had followed Stephania’s magic trace, and he feared for his children’s lives.
“Frawnden, you have to.”
She shook her head. “I don’t have any of the other ingredients! I could kill him, Aeron.”
He clenched his jaw. “Frawnden, he’s dying. It doesn’t matter anymore. We have to try. He’ll die anyway if we do nothing.”
She paused for a moment before quickly opening the bottle and dumping one of the berries out into her hand. An angry hissing filled the air from the berry’s powerful energy. Before she could change her mind, she quickly opened Artigal’s mouth and forced the berry in.
Seconds went by. Nothing happened.
Aeron bowed his head, his jaw clenched hard. They couldn’t do this without Artigal. “Emperor,” he whispered. “Heal him.”
Artigal coughed, his eyes snapping open. “The children.” He pushed Aeron and Frawnden away from him, struggling to his feet. The world spun around him. His entire body ached, and his head throbbed horribly. He brushed their protests aside. They wanted him to retreat to safety.
“No.” He gritted his teeth against the pain. The dizziness wore off.
“Artigal, let us do this. You don’t need to risk your life just to be there. Let Aeron and I go ahead. You stay out of the danger. We can’t risk losing you.” Frawnden’s gentle voice was firm and demanding, but Artigal merely shook his head.
“You’ve never been one for goodbyes, anyway.” A small smile almost lifted Aeron’s face.
“No. I will go. I have to do this. There is something that remains to be finished, and only I can do it.” Mist collected in the old Centaur’s eyes, and Aeron and Frawnden shared a look of worry. Could they do nothing to convince him otherwise?
When it became apparent that he wasn’t going to do as they asked, they galloped through the woods together, following the dark cloud of Etas that flew after Trojan and Stephania.
All around them rose the horrifying crackling of Etas shape-shifting. Snarls and screams soon filled the forest as the Etas began to swarm across the ground. They majority of the Etas, blinded by Stephania’s magic trace, ignored the three Centaurs. However, a couple were drawn to Artigal’s trace.
“Artigal!” Frawnden screamed, and threw herself in front of the old Centaur.
A second scream parted her lips as her body twisted and crumpled to the ground.
“Oh, stars of old.” Aeron collapsed beside her as she futilely struggled to stand. A long, knurled spear was lodged deep into the flesh around the back hip of her horse body.
For a moment, Artigal was frozen with disbelief at what she had done for him.
The Eta whose attack on Artigal had failed stumbled in confusion.
Rage clearing his mind, Artigal released a vicious spell, taking advantage of the Eta’s distraction.
The Eta’s body began twitching miserably. Its bones slowly dis-integrated and it melted to the ground in a puddle of flesh.
A sharp pain tore through the Igentis’ chest, and he snarled. He shouldn’t have released that much magic in the spell. He had once again let his emotions get the best of him. How much magic do I have left? Will I have enough for what is ahead of me?
“Can you walk?” Aeron’s panicked voice tore through Artigal’s thoughts.
A sharp cry of pain answered the leader. “I don’t know.”
Artigal’s eyes quickly flickered over to Frawnden. He had many guards whose sole job was to put themselves in harm’s way for him, and he knew that any one of his tribe members would die for him, but could have never imagined it would be Frawnden.
A huge laceration decorated Frawnden’s right back leg, the torn, bleeding flesh bubbling with poison.
Artigal had seen many wounds in battle, but seeing the pain on Frawnden’s face and the worry in Aeron’s eyes caused him to blanch. Was his life really worth the life of someone like her? He had never thought twice about a Centaur giving his life for him. He had never realized the true worth of sacrifice until now. He didn’t like the guilt and pain that took up residence deep within him.
“You have to walk. We have to make it to Stephania.” Tears filled Aeron’s eyes. If they couldn’t get to safety, he would have no choice but to either leave his mate to die or to
die with her.
She tested her leg again, but once more it collapsed under her, a low groan leaving her lips.
Artigal knew he had to continue. Stephania and Trojan needed him. Something was stopping him, something that hadn’t stopped him from making decisions for a long time—love. He couldn’t bear to watch Frawnden suffer and Aeron mourn. It was painful to remember what it felt like to really care about others. A wave of nausea crashed over him, and he was violently reminded of why he had stopped loving others—it was too hard to watch them die.
He didn’t want to leave them, but he had to choose: Trojan and Stephania or Frawnden and Aeron.
Chapter 12
Trees raced past and the wind screamed in their ears. Brush snagged at Trojan’s legs and tore into his skin, but he didn’t feel it.
His breath was hot and fevered as he struggled to keep ahead of the dark cloud of Etas that soared overhead, some diving down to attack them.
He had to jump over several large fallen trees, but most of the time he had to quickly weave his way through the thick forest, praying that he wasn’t just running in circles.
Stephania had already slain many Etas with her knife.
A trail of black blood and mangled bodies followed them, becoming thicker as the Etas closed in.
It was hard for her to fight with just her knife. Soon, she began using her rudimentary knowledge of magic and Duvarharian instincts to fight them off. Unfortunately, though it was effective, her magic only attracted the Etas all the more.
Stephania’s face went pale as she looked behind her. The trees had fallen black, not because of shadows, but because of Etas. Snarling, mangled, mutated beasts charged after them, growing closer and closer.
“Trojan,” she whispered hoarsely. “Trojan, faster!” she screamed as a small cat-like Eta jumped at her, suddenly massing into a ball of red sparks before it emerged as a huge bat-like reptile. She buried her face into Trojan’s long blood-splattered hair.
An arrow pierced the Eta’s chest, and its lifeless body hit Stephania’s back before tumbling to the ground.
From the direction in which they were running, a thunderous wave of hooves crashed into the ground, a blood-curdling battle cry filling the forest.
Gasping in fear and in awe, Stephania clung to Trojan as he dove behind a five-foot-wide fallen tree trunk for protection.
A wave of mighty Centaurs leapt over them and the tree as effortlessly as a bird could fly.
The ground shook. Screams filled the air. The clash of metal mingled with battle cries. Hooves, tails, and bodies flashed passed them in a blur as hundreds of the warriors rushed into the battle.
Just as the amount of the half-horse half-men creatures began to thin, Artigal came galloping toward them and pulled them out from behind the log. “Come! We are almost to the falls.”
Barely missing being trampled, Artigal galloped through the oncoming wave of fighters with Trojan and Stephania close behind.
Soon, the last of the warriors rushed by, the sounds of battle fading behind them, but they didn’t stop running. The air burned in Trojan’s lungs, and Stephania now felt heavy on his back. After what felt like forever, they broke out in a peaceful clearing. A large waterfall drowned out the distant noises of battle and death.
Gasping for breath, the two children dropped down beside the water and quenched their thirst.
Artigal gasped and stuttered, the world spinning wildly around him and his breath struggling to fill his lungs. He could feel the magic rapidly draining out of him as the Kijaqumok fed off his own energy.
“Where are mother and father?” Trojan’s worried voice twisted a knot in Artigal’s stomach.
Despite his own worry and pain, Artigal pulled a mask of confidence and indifference across his face. “They’re coming. They’ll be here soon.”
Trojan nodded and moved away, but Stephania stared at Artigal, her eyes narrowing. The Igentis found it too hard to look into her eyes and turned his back to her in dismissal. She huffed and walked to where Trojan was settling down in the soft grass.
The two children laid down, their eyes sliding shut.
Trying to keep his mind off the things pressing against his heart, Artigal surveyed his surroundings. Young apple trees were growing around the edge of the clearing. They would produce fruit in a year if taken care of properly. As he admired the sturdy wild fruit trees, his gaze fell on a hawk. The brown bird of prey was perched peacefully on a branch nearby; while it appeared to be sleeping, Artigal could feel its gaze on him, and he whistled lowly.
Cocking its head from side to side, the bird suddenly left its perch and soared down to Artigal before landing on the Centaur’s white arm, gently pecking at him in hopes of food.
A small smile gently lifted Artigal’s lips, and he sighed with relief. A note was fastened to one of the hawk’s talons.
He read it. It was a note from Dalton saying that he was ready for Stephania and all Artigal had to do was send the hawk back with a note saying he had arrived.
Taking a quill out of his small pack, Artigal scrawled a note before tying it to the hawk’s leg and watching as the bird took to the skies.
He observed the sleeping children, hoping that their parents would arrive in time to say goodbye.
Now they could only wait until Dalton arrived.
§
Nearly an hour had passed, and it was impossible for Artigal to continue to brush aside the illness that rose inside of him.
The worried and pained faces of Aeron and Frawnden kept flashing through his mind. Did I do the right thing? They had assured him that he should go after their children, but now he was regretting his choice, the guilt of leaving the wounded Centaur who had saved his life driving him mad.
“Artigal?” The voice was faint, as if it was far, far away.
One of Artigal’s color-changing eyes opened, and he scowled. Was it one of the children?
“Artigal?”
He breathed faster, his eyes wide with disbelief. Stephania and Trojan were still sound asleep. No, it was someone else.
It sounded like—“Frawnden!” Artigal jumped to his feet and whirled around.
“Artigal, thank goodness we found you. I’m afraid I can’t walk for much longer.” Frawnden smiled, most of her weight supported by Aeron, who while he looked relieved, seemed ready to drop to the ground with exhaustion.
“Mother? Mother, Father!”
The parents laughed as Stephania and Trojan rushed to them and clung to them. The worry that had weighed upon them all quickly melted away.
Through the joy, a dread hung in the air. A solemn silence fell upon the small family.
“Stephania?” Artigal’s eyes turned downward. He couldn’t bear to meet the eyes of any one of the four Ventronovians. He could feel Stephania’s pain and sadness. He could feel her pleading with him to let her stay with her family. He could feel her fear. And mostly, he could feel her magic trace—the beacon to evil.
Tears collected in his eyes. Could he bear to do this again? He had sworn that he would never hurt another like this, and yet he was back where he had started, as if he couldn’t ever really escape from his past. It would always drag after him and haunt him.
Images, memories, emotions flashed through him. A Duvarharian girl with long brown hair, sparkling, wide eyes, a bright smile, and so much love and trust. It all washed away, and was replaced with pain.
“Yes, Artigal?” Stephania’s light, scared voice pierced through his thoughts, and he was quick to banish the tears from his eyes.
“Walk with me.”
They slowly ambled away from her family until they were out of hearing distance. The waterfall roared next to them, a rainbow shimmering in the mist.
Artigal took a deep breath, his eyes dark with grief. “This is the end of our journey together, as you know. There is a chance that we will meet again, but there is a chance we may not. I have taught you all that I can, and now it is time for you to continue on the path that th
e Great Lord has laid out for you.”
“But Artigal, I really think that—”
He held up his hand and silenced her, doing his best not to look into her eyes and be sucked once more into her pain, anger, and hate.
“No, child. You cannot stay. This is not your life anymore. This is not your home anymore. You must continue to push on. You must put all of this behind you and become what you were meant to be.”
Tears formed in her eyes, and she choked on a sob. “What does it matter to have family if they always leave?”
Artigal’s eyes widened, and his heart lurched. “They don’t leave you.”
“My parents left, and now you are too.” Her tear-filled eyes pierced into his soul, shattering his heart.
Curse how intelligent this innocent child is. Emperor keep me strong. Artigal closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. “We will always be with you, no matter where you are or what you may face. But that brings me to one last gift I will entrust with you. This will make sure you remain a part of us forever.”
After sniffing loudly and wiping her nose on her sleeve, she turned her teary eyes and looked into his as she bit her lip.
Reaching into a small pouch that he had by his side, he pulled out an extremely old silver pendent that was decorated with a single, milk white stone in the center of the cold metal. Carefully woven around the cylindrical stone was a small silver wire, which twisted and turned to create a small tree, its roots and branches wrapped around the gem. A word in the Centaur language was carved above the crystal into one side—Kofuz. And on the other side, also above the stone, was a word in the ancient Duvarharian language—Sleo. Both words she knew to mean “Protector.” Underneath the stone on both sides, the word “Farloon” was engraved in the metal.
Stephania’s eyes widened. The word “Farloon” meant a connector, a mediator, and an equal of two Kinds. To be the Farloon—the protector of all the tribes of the Centaurs, nearly equal to Artigal himself—was the highest honor that a Dragon Rider could even dream of obtaining. It was also laden with difficult responsibilities, for it was the Farloon’s job to ensure the two Kinds acted as one people and were never divided. It was a sacred bond and a sacred title and responsibility.
Child of the Dragon Prophecy Page 15
