Darius had no idea how long he slept when he heard a soft voice invade his rest and confuse his thoughts.
“You were magnificent,” she whispered, close to his face and into his ear.
He could feel the warm breath brush against his cheek, and he tried to force his eyes open. They were heavy as if made of lead. When he was able to wrench them open, the effects of the drink prevented him from focusing, but the outline of the figure and the color of the hair told him who it was.
“You?” he asked perplexed. For a moment he felt disoriented and didn’t remember the fight, but then the stab of pain from his wounds brought vivid recollection of the events of the battle. “I’m in Alara’s village. How did you…why are you—”
“Shhhh,” Sira said, placing a single finger softly across his lips as she sat next to him on the bed. “She’s insignificant anyway, in the great scheme of things. I’ve been trying to find you for ages.”
“Wait. What?” Darius blinked several times, trying to encourage his eyes to work properly. The dizziness in his head made it feel as if the room was spinning, so it was not an easy task. In fact, it would have been much easier to lie with his eyes closed, but he fought to see what he could. “Find me? Why?”
“I saw the burglars. I followed them when you left the inn. I knew they were up to no good. It was that sword, you know, so I wanted to help you.”
“You?”
“Yes, it was me there, and I was trying to come up with a plan to rescue you—you do seem to need quite a bit of that, don’t you—but then your dragon came.” She paused and cupped the side of his face. “And took you away.”
Darius was speechless. With vision that was flawed, he felt for her hand and pulled it away.
Sira sighed. “Still shy, but I like that about you. Kinda growing on me.” She smiled, stood up, and walked to the window, looking out. Darius could barely make out her feminine silhouette, a soft light shining somewhere beyond the glass. She continued, “Ever since I met you, I knew what you were.” She turned back to him and sat in a chair next to the bed, still leaning closer than Darius would have liked. “That mark…and the sword. You had to be a wizard, and I decided it was time.”
Darius realized his hand was exposed, allowing full inspection of the spiral marks, and he quickly pulled the blankets up over his arm.
“There’s no need for that. Remember? I saw them when I saved you from the stalks. Even though you wouldn’t tell me anything, I know that color. I know who gave that to you. And I know you need to face him to defeat that curse. So, as I said, it’s time.”
“Time?” Darius was disinclined to divulge any of his intentions, and he squirmed, trying to inch away from her but finding that his body was as uncooperative as his eyes. The medicine the doctor had given him was very effective indeed.
“Time for you to free our people,” she said. “I know you’ve been training. That’s what all wizards do. And of course, what with your problems with the barrier and then the thieves—and who knows what else since we last parted—you would have to train.”
Sira was a professional at overemphasizing uncomfortable words, and now was no different. Have to train…HHHHave Darius simply lay there and listened.
“And now this.” Sira waved her arm in a gesture of the entire village. “I know you can defeat him now.”
“I told you, I was just exploring,” said Darius, but even he had to admit it was a lame explanation.
“Of course you were,” Sira winked. “Listen. I know you are supposed to go back to the Valley of Wizards to have your stones blessed or something.” She giggled. “Well, that is what you wizards do, right? Anyway, you’ve proven your abilities here, and if I know you are supposed to go the valley, then so does Klavon.”
“So,” said Darius, not willing to reveal anything.
“So…you go straight to Klavon! Skip the valley!” Sira held both hands up, palms raised as if all was obvious. “He’d never expect it, and you would catch him off guard.”
Darius just stared at her.
“That’s called an advantage,” she said, raising an eyebrow.
“I know what it’s called,” Darius snapped, and he suddenly felt very much like the awkward boy she saved from the dead stalks.
“My sweet Darius,” she said. “Yes, I know your name. I heard the dragon say it. Impressive creature, too. So is it a deal?”
Darius ignored her question. “How did you get here? I mean, you’re pretty far from Klavon’s land, aren’t you? And someone must have seen you.”
“Not a soul,” she answered. “And don’t worry about me. I have a cat, a very large cat, and he gets me where I need to go. But you need to rest.” She touched his lips with her finger once again.
As if on queue, Darius’s head began to spin, and he moaned. He could fight the fatigue no longer, and his eyes closed.
“Yes, my sweet,” Sira whispered, this time her breath against his mouth, and Darius felt her lips brush back and forth across his, slowly before ending with a gentle kiss. “And I’ll be waiting for you…”
He was helpless to respond and drifted once again into a very deep, dreamless sleep.
When he awoke, he was lying in bed with Alara sitting in the chair next to him, her head bent down as if asleep.
Darius looked around the room then spoke softly, not wanting to startle her. “Where is she?”
Alara’s head picked up and her eyes popped open. “I’m here…I’ve been here all this time.”
Darius glanced around the room. His eyes no longer fought him, and he blinked several times to clear his vision. “No…wait…must have been a weird dream or something. How long have I been asleep?” Darius rubbed his hand across the linen bandages that encased his chest and ribs and tried to sit up.
Alara stood quickly and helped him, pulling extra pillows behind his back. “Three days. Pretty much, anyways. You woke for short periods of time, and I was able to get you to eat, but I’m guessing you don’t remember.”
“Not really,” said Darius, still thinking of Sira.
“With the medication I’d be surprised,” Alara said, laughing. She walked to a small fire and ladled some soup that had been warming in the flames.
That must have been it, Darius decided. He must have been hallucinating from the medication.
Alara walked back and handed Darius the small bowl of soup. “He bandaged you after you were asleep…thought it would be less painful that way. And he stitched your shoulder. A couple of weeks and you should be able to take those out—it was a nasty bite.”
Darius steadied himself with one hand and took the warm bowl of soup with the other. “What about the sorcerer?”
“He hasn’t come back. I think he’s gone for good,” she said as she helped him hold the bowl of soup.
Alara looked well. A bandage covered the gash in her arm, and her face, although scratched, was a pleasing sight.
“Are you all right? Your arm?” he asked, thoughts of Sira fading. “And the rest of the people? Did any…”
“I’m fine. It’s just a scratch.” Alara smiled. “And, no, we didn’t lose anyone. A few minor wounds and burns, but nothing we can’t take care of. You saved us—you saved us all, you and Prydon. Now eat.”
Darius sipped the soup. He hadn’t tasted anything that good since he’d left home. He closed his eyes and breathed the scent, pulling the bowl up to his face.
“Prydon told me about the mark.”
Darius’s eyes shot open. His gloves had been removed, and the crimson marks were clearly visible. “Uh—”
“It’s all right. I understand. I hope you find a way to save your village, too.” Alara’s eyes shifted, and she idly removed a piece of lint from her clothes. “I guess it was selfish of me to ask you to help us, but I had no choice.”
“You don’t have to explain. You were right.” Darius took a last huge gulp of soup and set the bowl on a small table next to the bed. “But I should get back now.”
“But you’re still
weak,” she said.
“I’ll be fine. I’ll get my strength back before I face him. But I really do need to go. Three days…”
Alara hesitated and then smiled. “Yes, of course.”
“Um, my shirt?” He lifted the covers and glanced under the blanket. “And my pants?”
“Oh, here.” Alara seemed to blush and walked to a nearby chest of drawers. She pulled out Darius’s clothes, washed and neatly folded, and laid them on the end of the bed. “I’ll just wait outside.”
Darius dressed, the tension from the bandage challenging his movement, but when he finished, he joined Alara outside. The warmth of the sun washed over him, but the smell of burnt wood hung in the air—a reminder of the frail victory. His eyes were saddened as he scoured the village. The damage was severe—the structure that had fallen three nights before now sat in a mangled heap across the path—and he wondered if the town would have survived another strike.
Some progress had been made, however. Many villagers were bustling about, cleaning up the ash and repairing buildings. Others were moving more slowly, bandages covering various parts of their bodies, but they were all helping in any way they could. A few noticed him and greeted him with thanks and praise, but Darius felt inadequate. He wished he could have prevented more of the devastation. Soon, the entire village gathered nearby.
“I see you are up and about,” said Prydon, landing with a thud beside him. Still new to the sight of a dragon, some of the villagers instinctively backed away.
“Brilliant observation, as always, my friend.” Darius laughed, but a cough took over and he buckled at the pain.
“At least your wounds don’t require the use of a pillow,” Prydon said with a smile.
“Pillow?” asked Alara.
“Long story,” replied Darius.
“And you appear to be back to your usual self, for the most part. That is good as it is time for you to return to the valley to finalize your training.”
Darius thought about his dream with Sira—what else could it have been—but decided he’d tell Prydon later, when they were alone.
“What about the sorcerer?” Darius asked. “Alara seems to think he’s gone for good. What do you think?”
Prydon’s brows creased, and his eyes shifted in search of an elusive memory. “I have never seen him before, but he was, in some peculiar way, familiar. No matter. He believes you will remain to defend this village, and I doubt he will return.”
“Especially when that wizard has a dragon.” Alara laughed and handed Darius his staff and sword. She leaned forward and gave him a gentle kiss on the cheek. “Thank you. Don’t worry. We’ll be all right.”
“And I suspect Loklan will be completing his training soon. However, I will inform Barsovy so that he can reevaluate his protective spell,” added Prydon. He leaned down, and Darius climbed on his back.
The villagers expressed their gratitude with waves and kind words, and when all formalities were done, Darius said, “Perhaps we will meet again.”
Alara smiled. “I hope so,” she said. “I would like that. And let us hope it is under better circumstances.”
Darius returned her smile, and Prydon set to the sky. Soon the village became a small dot on the ground, and Darius set his eyes toward the valley.
That night, Darius sat beside a fire Prydon had easily created just as he had done in the mire. With the direction they had traveled, it would be another day before they would get back to Barsovy, and his ribs and arms hurt terribly. Prydon had insisted they stop and rest, and Darius was in no condition to argue, nor did he want to.
“Prydon?” Darius said, gazing at a blue flame that danced among the red and orange. “What if we go straight to Klavon before going into the valley?”
Prydon looked genuinely surprised and said, “What would be the purpose of that? And…what of the danger? You do recall my warnings in the battle you just fought. The temptation of anger would be even greater.”
“Yes, but we did think it was Klavon, and that didn’t stop us there.”
“You had no choice,” said Prydon. “You had already committed—”
“I could have left, but you said I was ready,” interrupted Darius. “Or were those just empty words?”
Prydon hesitated. “Darius, I do indeed believe you are ready, but why risk it when you are so close? What would bring about such a thought?”
Darius sighed and looked up at his friend. “While I was sleeping, recovering after the battle, I had a dream—at least I think it was a dream. Sira came to me and asked me to help her people overcome Klavon.”
“Sira?” asked Prydon. “I do not know that name.”
Darius had, in all the time they had spent together, neglected to mention the strange, alluring young woman named Sira.
“She is from Klavon’s land. She saved me from the barrier—”
“The stalks,” interrupted Prydon.
“Wait,” said Darius. “You know about that?”
“I saw them. I also saw the white-haired girl. That was Sira?”
“Yes,” answered Darius.
“Was it also she who saved you in the mire?” asked Prydon.
“What?”
Prydon smiled. “I told you I have never left your side.”
A sudden embarrassing thought entered Darius’s mind. He recalled all the insults he had screamed into the air when he had first left the mire and was reading the horrible book on dragons.
Prydon seemed to know what he was thinking and laughed. “I believe you have learned that I can indeed be trusted and have no desire to devour you or any other human. But in the mire…I saw when you slipped. I was just about to come down and help when I saw the white flash. Was it also she who saved you then?”
The possibility gave Darius reason to pause, and he said, “I don’t see how…I mean…”
Prydon nodded. “So tell me about this dream that is now urging you to face Klavon before the valley?”
Darius told Prydon every detail he could remember about the dream. Well almost—he felt uncomfortable divulging the tension Sira seemed so apt to create, especially regarding his lips.
“I mean, it had to be a dream, right?” said Darius. “And he would be caught off guard.”
“Since she is from Klavon’s village and since Alara had just asked for our help, it would make sense that your mind might put those two together to create the thought of Sira asking for the same help when it came to Klavon.” Prydon stirred the fire with one of the spikes in his tail. “However, if it was really Sira, it could be a plot to bring you to Klavon when you are most vulnerable.”
“But how could she?” asked Darius. “How could she have been there?”
“Sorcerers often have others in their service who feed from their power,” said Prydon.
Darius was beginning to feel that he lacked a considerable amount of knowledge about wizards and sorcerers, and that placed him at a horrible disadvantage.
“It is also possible,” Prydon continued, “that Klavon staged that fight to test your strength before sending Sira to you.”
“What?” exclaimed Darius.
“I told you the fight was too easy. I also told you the sorcerer was somehow familiar,” said Prydon.
“Then you think it was Klavon after all,” said Darius. “But Sira saved me…she was even there when the thieves attacked me. In my dream, she told me that she was just about to help when you showed up—”
“Which is exactly something she might say if she were really there—if it were not a dream,” said Prydon, ending Darius’s sentence.
Darius stared again at the flames. They had grown since Prydon stirred the fire, and the warmth covered his face. “It’s not worth it,” he said. “It’s not worth the risk. I should face the valley first.”
Prydon shook his head. “I agree.”
“Do we tell Barsovy?” asked Darius. “About the dream?”
Prydon considered the question only for a moment. “No. There is no
need. You are facing the valley as planned, and you must then face Klavon as planned. Whether or not it was Klavon testing you, and whether or not it was a dream, is irrelevant to your training and the valley.”
Darius lay there that night under a blanket of stars, a peaceful moment before the storm he knew was to come. He thought of Sira and wondered if she was truly in league with Klavon. But why save him—in the mire—in the stalks—at the thieves? It didn’t make sense—it would have been a perfect time for Klavon to kill him—but he had learned to be cautious. A shooting start blazed across the sky, and an owl screeched in the far distance. He breathed in the fresh air…and fell asleep.
Chapter Twenty-six
The Lie
Darius and the Dragon's Stone Page 33
