The Mark Of Iisilée

by T P Sheehan

  After two hours, Sarah’s shadow began to return and her chest started lifting with strengthening breaths. Bonstaph insisted on attending to her and so Magnus retired to his place near the fire on the other side of the camp. When he arrived, Jael was seated once again on the log. She was alone, staring into the fire.

  “Is your friend recovering?” Jael asked. The fire reflected off her Ferustir armour. Magnus walked around the fire and sat next to her.

  “Slowly. She’s been through a lot.”

  “Aye—a Tenebris spell. It’ll do that to you. She must have a lot of willpower to push that far with it.”

  Magnus looked at Jael, wondering at her knowledge of such things. “What’s a Tenebris spell?”

  “Dark magic. Some gypsy’s claim it as Paragon magic, but it’s not.”

  “How would Sarah know of it?”

  “I’m not sure.” Jael studied Magnus then looked away. “Magnus… I want to tell you about the first time I rode a dragon.” There was reluctance in her voice. She struggled to look at Magnus again.

  “I apologise if I was abrasive before.”

  ‘You weren’t abrasive. You asked a question. And I’d like to answer it.” Magnus nodded and kept his silence. “I was thirteen. Austagia found me by the Traas River. I don’t know…” Jael closed her eyes like she was trying to remember. “I can’t explain what happened or what led to me being there, but I was injured—badly injured. It was years later Austagia told me the nature of my injuries.” Jael glanced briefly at Magnus then lowered her head again. “He said I had been beaten—perhaps tortured.” Jael shook her head slowly.

  Magnus stood and removed his blanket, wrapping it around Jael’s shoulders. He sat beside her again.

  “And so, Liné carried me.” She smiled wryly. “Austagia held me tight. Liné climbed and climbed, up through the clouds, above the mountain peaks and away from whatever darkness I had come from. It was wonderful. I was given another chance at life in the Romghold.”

  Magnus studied Jael as he listened to her tale. Her pale skin was radiant and in stark contrast to her black hair. She had a small scar over her left eyebrow that he had not noticed before. Her features looked familiar in a way, but he could not place them. She reminded him of someone, but he was not sure whom.

  “I gave my life to the order,” Jael continued. “I healed, worked, learned and trained among the priests. For three years I never once left the Romghold. At sixteen, I began my formal training. I became Joffren’s Semsarian. I was later inaugurated into the order.”

  “That must have felt—” Magnus stopped, not wanting to put words in her mouth.

  “It was enlightening,” Jael said. “With the inauguration came a blessing.” Jael pointed to her markings on the left side of her head. “I’m sure Catanya told you about that.”

  “Aye,” Magnus contributed.

  A gentle smile came to Jael’s face. “The measure of dragon blood I was given triggered something in me. It seemed to allow memories of the past to come back. At first it was fleeting memories of a brother, sisters, a mother and a father.”

  “Was that a good thing?”

  “It should have been, shouldn’t it?” She looked again at Magnus—her face once again a contemplative frown.

  “Did you tell Austagia about your memories?”

  “Joffren was my Semsdi. My place and loyalty was with him for three years. I was never meant to be a priest. I was not selected by my merit. I had spent my years watching other priests train. For me, every test and every challenge was twice as hard. I was expected to be twice the Irucantî they were to prove I was their equal. Joffren was focused. He was determined. I took on those traits as an Irucantî. They held me in good stead and I put my past behind me.”

  Magnus was intrigued. Catanya had also trained under Joffren and was also selected outside of the usual system of merit. Magnus thought about this for a moment, then dared to ask—“Did Joffren train Catanya as he trained you?”

  Jael’s eyes flashed sultrily at Magnus. “I was absent for most of her training,” she said dismissively. Jael drew a breath and ran her fingers slowly through her hair, revealing a large scar across her scalp that made Magnus wince. Magnus remembered Catanya saying that Jael had gone missing for most of the six months of her training. When Jael finally returned, she had been beaten once again just short of death. “From the little I saw and from what Austagia has told me, Joffren trained Catanya harder than he trained me.”

  Jael’s words seemed to come as a confession she did not want to admit to, but Magnus admired her for doing so. He had so many questions but had to remind himself to keep quiet and let Jael speak. He was sure she had come to him for a reason beyond sharing her story.

  “Magnus,” Jael looked him over. “Your mother is not of the Fire Realm, is she?”

  “No.” Magnus wondered if Jael knew his mother was from the Ice Realm.

  “Neither were mine. But I guess you knew that.” Jael’s eyes sharpened. Her pupils, usually hidden within her dark eyes, shone with the flames of the fire. “Perhaps we have more in common than either of us know.” Jael leant forward until her forehead touched Magnus’s. Cupping his cheeks in her hands, she tilted her head up, bringing her lips toward his. Just short of touching, Magnus gently brushed his hand between them, covering her lips with his fingers. Jael lent back, studying him. After a moment’s reflection, she nodded, stood and reached for Magnus’s hair, stroking it.

  “She doesn’t deserve you,” Jael said.

  Magnus could hear the bite in her words—the jealousy in her tone.

  “I don’t deserve her,” Magnus said, holding her wrist and drawing her arm away.

  CALM BEFORE THE STORM

  Magnus confessed to himself he was curious about Jael kissing him. He could not get the thought of it out of his mind. The smell of her hair and skin was etched in his memory. He felt heat in his chest just thinking about it. Magnus imagined over and over being in the moment again and letting Jael kiss him. He dreaded to think how he would feel afterward, so it was just the kiss he played over in his mind, curious as to what it would be like. He robbed himself of sleep because of it. He knew though, if he relived that moment, he would stop her once again.

  Magnus was still keen to learn more about Jael. She admitted her parents were not from the Fire Realm. He had guessed that much—for one, she is right-handed. What more had she remembered from her past? Even more so, he wanted to know what happened in the six months she went missing, only to return to the Romghold as beaten and traumatised as when she first arrived at thirteen. Were the two connected? Magnus knew he would likely never know after refusing her kiss. Was that the price for getting to know her? If she is playing games, Magnus decided, it isn’t worth it. He decided Jael would have to remain an enigma.

  An hour before sunrise, an Ahrona swallow arrived with a message for Simeon. It was from Austagia.

  “Austagia commands a clandestine attack on the Quag approaching from the north. He says ten dragons will suffice,” Simeon announced before a gathering of every priest, half the dragons, Magnus and Eamon.

  “We can approach from whatever way is most effective,” Bonstaph interjected. “Austagia doesn’t know we’re positioned on the Southern Plains and we’ve the measure of Delvion’s army.”

  “Austagia’s orders reinforce our decision,” Simeon said. “We are thirteen dragons strong. Three more wish to maintain patrol over the Southern Plains—as it was before the days of the Authoritarium.”

  Magnus watched in awe as his father worked with the priests to form a deadly assault strategy designed to bring an end to the battle of Nuyan. They would approach the battlegrounds from the south near Overpell. It would convert the Quag’s northerly offensive to a southerly defensive. Conversely, Xavier’s legions would logically convert their six month defensive from the north at the Nuyan River into an all out attack with Austagia, Catanya and Rubea’s support. This would force the Quag to defend from both sides—a perilou
s position for them.

  “Färgd suggests we lay interlacing runs of dragon fire,” Simeon said.

  “Lay them east to west,” Bonstaph said. “The summer southerly winds will kick up by midday and push the fire tracks, burning the voids between runs and completing the job for you. By evening, a northerly change will keep the fires south of the river to protect the Nuyan township.

  “There’s no need to overexpose ourselves,” Brue contributed. “We will each do a return run then climb away. There’s enough of us to keep the interlace continuous.”

  Bonstaph looked to the dragons—“That would be wise. And with a good count of dragons scouting from high, escaping wyverns can be effectively dealt with.”

  “It is imperative that no Quag and no wyvern escape to tell Delvion of this attack,” Simeon warned. “Another reason to approach from the south.”

  The attack was planned down to every detail. Magnus’s astonishment for his father’s knowledge of such things was only abated when Eamon leant in and discretely explained Bonstaph’s position. “Remember, your father was Knight Commander when the knights fought alongside the Irucantî and dragons. He’s the most qualified here to get this job done.”

  Magnus continued to watch proceedings. The priests were drawn to silence whenever Bonstaph spoke. “The priests show him respect.”

  “And so they should,” Eamon agreed. “The Battle of Fire may not have been won without him.”

  Magnus considered Eamon then looked back to his father. “He never wanted to be a part of this again.” Even as the words spilled from his mouth, Magnus realised—“Actually, it was the Authoritarium’s regime he never wanted to be a part of.”

  By sunrise, the refugees had bid their farewells and gone their separate ways. Those headed for the Fire Realm would transport the wounded. Sarah was among them. She was recovering under Walt’s diligent care, yet was still unconscious. The Fire Realm folk would follow the Outer Rim of Froughton Forest until they were north of the Nuyan River sections. By the time they reached Nuyan in three days time, the war would hopefully be over. If not, they would hide in the forest until notice reached them that it was safe to come home. Two thirds of the Perimetral guard were travelling in their company.

  There was little to organise, as the priests left the Romghold in a hurry with few supplies other than weapons. The previous night, several dragons had hunted for deer in Froughton Forest to ensure their brethren were well fed after the previous day’s battle. Word was sent to the Romghold of the situation and more dragons would soon join the three-dragon patrol of the Southern Plains in case Delvion mounted a surprise attack. The rest of the fire dragons were ready to fight.

  Thirteen dragons formed a five hundred foot line of sparkling bronze brilliance. Magnus found the spectacle dazzling. Ferustirs made final adjustments to their armour—tightening buckles and saddles, sheathing lances and grooming fletches of arrows. The dragons started making guttural grunting sounds Magnus had never heard before.

  “They’re getting the juices flowing, so to speak,” Simeon explained.

  “The dragons? What do you mean?”

  Simeon stared blankly at Magnus. He then coughed up a mouthful of phlegm and spat on the ground. “A little like that, only dragons make fire where we spit.”

  Magnus could not help but laugh at seeing a priest do something so unrefined as spit and soon they were both laughing. Simeon regained his composure first.

  “When we’re in the throes of battle today, Magnus, don’t try to fight like us. Fight like only our Electus can fight—the way you did here, yesterday.”

  “You saw that?” Magnus recalled his fire display by the riverside.

  “Aye. When our people in the Fire Realm see that, it will do as much for morale as seeing our dragons return.”

  Magnus and Simeon gripped forearms and wished one another well for the battle. Simeon was growing on Magnus more and more and he realised how much he had missed Lucas’s close friendship. Perhaps Simeon will be a good friend some day…

  Magnus knelt to check the two daggers sheathed at the sides of his greaves. Holding Lucas’s sword, he jogged down the line of dragons, looking at each in turn and searching for Brue.

  “It looks almost as good on you as it once did on me.”

  Magnus stopped and doubled back. It was Eamon, readying himself beside Färgd.

  ‘Eamon!” Magnus embraced his old friend. “This armour is magnificent.”

  “It’s magnificent on you, my dear friend.”

  “I wish I could have seen you wearing it. You’re joining us?”

  “Aye. There’s sure to be celebrations after the battle and I intend to join you then as well.”

  “Very good,” Magnus smiled. He knew he should feel nervous before the battle, but with everyone in attendance, he felt charged with energy and anticipation.

  “Keep safe, Magnus. Promise me that.” Concern washed over Eamon’s face.

  “I will.” Holding Lucas’s sword, Magnus punched his own chest armour.

  “You managed to get Lucas’s sword back,” Eamon frowned. “It seems destined to be yours.”

  “Jael found it on the burnt plains.”

  “Indeed.” Eamon stepped toward Magnus and whispered—“Between us, I believe Jael has a sweet spot for the Electus.”

  “You think so, Eamon?” Magnus tried to look surprised.

  Eamon tapped the side of his nose. “See you on the battlefield.”

  Magnus smiled and jogged further down the line of dragons until he found Brue. In the line up, Brue was the largest dragon present—with the exception of Färgd—and clearly had the longest tail by far. His large muscles flexed and his scales glistened as he shifted about, eager to get going. Magnus slipped into Brue’s thoughts.

  “May I join you today, Brue?”

  “Certainly. Will Jael be joining us?”

  “I will.” It was Jael, walking through the tall grasses toward them. Magnus was glad, but felt a little awkward after the previous night.

  “Jael…”

  Jael lifted a hand to Magnus. “Let’s pretend it never happened.” She raised eyebrows at Magnus then leapt onto Brue’s saddle, keeping the front free for Magnus.

  Magnus smiled back. “I’m still eager to learn more about you.”

  “I’m sure you are.”

  Magnus was glad there was no discomfort between them. Flo Ena… ‘Move on…’ He sheathed Lucas’s sword, swinging the scabbard over his back as he had always done. Back to his right, Eamon was climbing onto Färgd with another Ferustir. Two dragons to his left, his father was strapping his legs into the saddle of another dragon.

  “Have you done this before?” Magnus shouted to his father.

  Bonstaph looked up at Magnus. “Once or twice.”

  Magnus was sure his father was not at all keen to be riding a dragon. A Wardemeer suits him far better… Magnus wondered what ever happened to ‘Staeda’—his father’s Wardemeer horse.

  “Magnus.” Bonstaph’s voice softened. “Be careful today.”

  “I will,” Magnus assured.

  “Once the Quag see your powers… Once they know you’re the Electus, you’ll become a target.”

  “I know.” Magnus tried to hide the anxiety that was beginning to crawl through his stomach.

  “Eyes in the back of your head—you’ll need them today,” Bonstaph said as though trying to lighten the mood, or perhaps appease his concern for his son going into battle for the first time.

  “I’ll be those eyes, Magnus,” Jael said, channelling her thoughts through Brue.

  “Thank you.” Magnus genuinely appreciated it.

  Moments later, the thirteen dragons and a total of twenty Ferustirs were ready to leave the Plains Lake for the battlefields south of Nuyan.

  BATTLE AT NUYAN

  All thirteen dragons took flight and fell into formation heading west. Braug was at the lead, Färgd behind Braug and Brue third in line. The rest fell into pairs or threes, fallin
g into one another’s slipstream to conserve strength. The flight seemed calm and effortless to Magnus, unlike the furious pace the day before when they charged to support Braug on the Southern Plains.

  “No point wasting energy before battle,” Brue explained to Magnus. “When we are closer, our formation will change and our pace with quicken.”

  By the time they reached the western end of the Plains Lake, Braug fell back from his lead position to the rear of the formation and Färgd took the lead. Jael explained that by rotating through like this, all dragons had the opportunity to rest. By the time Brue was the lead dragon, Magnus could see the western border of Froughton Forest and a hint of the lands beyond.

  “The Fire Realm…” Magnus strained to see more of home, but Brue went into a gradual dive until they flew no higher than the tallest of Froughton’s ancient pines. The other dragons followed.

  “We’re using the forest as cover,” Jael explained. “The closer we get before wyverns spot us, the greater our advantage.”

  Once beyond the western border of the forest, they rose again. Higher and higher they rose until they disappeared into a layer of cloud and broke out into the clear sky above. They kept their westerly direction for some time, always remaining above the cloud.

  “We got lucky.” Jael said.

  “With the cloud?”

  “Aye. We’ll soon go higher so that when we dive, we can build a lot of speed for our attack north of the Cliffs of Overpell.”

  Overpell… Magnus remembered his father saying this was where the Quag seized him and his mother. He glanced over his shoulder at his father who raised a hand, signalling back. Magnus took an anxious breath. This is it!

  The dragons fell into single file and formed a ring of dragons, circling around and around until Braug broke formation and ascended. The other dragons followed to form a spectacular, ascending spiral of dragons. The higher they went, the thinner the air seemed to become until Magnus started to struggle for breath. His lungs started heaving and his head began to spin. Jael squeezed Magnus’s waist from behind.