Reborn (The Dragons of Cantor Book 1)

by Lela Robichaux

  We are in the Dahrst Hills, surrounded by ghosts of the soldiers who fought here in past battles.

  One gleaming eye lifted in interest. “The Dahrst Hills?” he asked. “This should be fun. No blood to be had, but lots of fun.”

  She was careful to take charge of the interlude. You will work with me and follow my lead. Can you destroy spirits? she asked him.

  “Of course,” the dragon replied, a bit miffed at being given orders. “Some of them.”

  What do you mean, ‘some of them’?

  “Well, I can’t just rid you of all of them! I will do my part, but you must do yours. Being close enough to touch one is essential.” The dragon snorted. He could feel her fear, she realized.

  Hardening her resolve and opening her eyes, Mey discovered ghastly forms pressing closer, transparent and flowing. Most were dressed in tattered shreds of uniforms from a long-lost army. There were still others who were clothed in plain workaday clothing and some in piecemealed armor. Some had glowing eyes and were more solid in form. Mostly men, but there were some women and a few children. There had to be hundreds of them.

  Elerbee had extended another protective shield around them. It held for now but they had to get moving. And quickly.

  “Forward,” Elerbee called. They started ahead as one, moving as far and as fast as they could.

  The glow from the ethereal creatures helped them stay on the path that led through the rock and, hopefully, out the other side.

  As they walked, Mey watched the forms around them. Some ambled aimlessly while others followed them with purpose and still others shrank from Elerbee as he moved forward into their path. The ones with the glowing eyes looked as if they were waiting for the shield to drop so they could rush in for the warm flesh that the living possessed. It was unnerving, so she concentrated on Elerbee and Thom in front of her.

  She had to put her trust in them. They were the only ones with enough power to get them all through this. She knew that Makagesh was on her side as well, but it gave her little comfort. Giving trust was something she had only done very few times in her life and it had hurt her every time.

  Mey could see the shield weakening. The magical glow was thinner. She breathed in, steadying herself. A fire had begun to burn in her belly, growing and eating at the fear her mind insisted on. Thankfully, the fire was winning out. It was familiar to her now; this warmth that spread over her and consumed her being. She would not allow it to overtake her, she must let a part of herself mingle with it. The work she put into controlling her dragon blood was paying off.

  The first indication that the shield was broken was the incredible shriek that sounded behind her. Unbearable to hear and chilling to the very bone. Bob! She turned to see her uncle leap, avoiding the sweep of an incorporeal great sword. The figure in front of him was wild-eyed, ghostly hair flowing out in all directions. The wail flowing from its open mouth was meant to distract and it was working. Concentration on anything else was impossible. Mey shook her head to clear it of the spidery sounds that crawled and tangled all thought.

  Just at the point she wanted to let her own screams out, silence fell all around her. Surely the creature had rendered her deaf with its incessant and ghastly wailing. She turned to find Thom with a smirk on his face; he winked at her and pointed to his ears. The silence was his doing. She didn’t think she’d ever been so grateful. Swallowing the fear that threatened to overtake her, she smiled her thanks, sighed and turned back to the breach. There was no more time to dwell on it. It was time to fight; time to die, if need be.

  As she came up next to him, Bob’s sword sang through the air and found solid purchase on the being in front of him. Mey countered with a sweep from the dagger in her right hand. Her concentration was almost lost again when she felt it sink into soft flesh. The only difference from a living being was how cold it felt. Instead of the warm flow of blood, a numbing chill flowed out as the ghost shimmered and just disappeared from view. Would it come back? They’d find out that answer soon enough.

  The group inched slowly on as the forms closed in. The gap in the shield was widening. Steadying her breathing, nodding to her uncle, she made a gesture to indicate the breach was growing wider. His soft, brown eyes hardened, the only indication that he was at all affected by their situation. His sturdy stance never wavered.

  Mey admired him so much. He was so strong and she fed off of that strength. He had been a rock for her, a solid presence in her suddenly tumultuous world. She positioned herself so that her back was to his. If they were going down, it would be together and fighting.

  Mey and Bob concentrated on the widening breach in the shield, and another ghostly form slipped through. Its mouth was open in what she assumed to be a deadly wail. It headed right for Bob, who burst into action. Every movement was fluid and his swordplay reminded her of a dance. This form had a weapon as well. The silence when the weapons struck was somewhat disconcerting, but reminded her again of Thom’s saving spell. She smiled, as she looked to find him weaving a temporary armor around himself. His hands moved with speed and precision. Delicate, yet strong and sure. Movement behind her drew her attention back. She readied herself for any threats.

  Bob had already dispatched another form. Two more were slipping through the gap. It was fading faster and desperation tugged at Mey. She knew in just moments they would be overcome with these creatures. Her head needed to be right here, not thinking of magicians and their beautiful, delicate hands.

  “Makagesh,” she whispered. He could hear her, if no one else could. “It’s time.” Laughter touched her ears, although she knew it to be inside her own head. He was ready.

  Not a moment too soon. The shield burst and completely faded. Three forms moved right in front of Mey. Warmth spread over her body and tugged at her limbs. Makagesh was infusing her with his will and she let him nudge in, if only in small amounts. Mey’s legs moved with a speed she had never known she possessed and the dagger in her hand flew into action. She had a dance of her own; the dance of dragons. It took her into a whirling spin, ending in a semi-crouch, one leg extended, blade slicing through the form nearest her. The form exploded into droplets and fell to the ground.

  Mey rose from her stance, and flowed evenly into the next, dagger leading. Jumping to avoid the sweep of a ghostly sword, her body carried its momentum over into a roll and she flipped over the form, landing solidly behind it, driving her blade upward into what had once been its spine. Again, droplets of dew formed and tumbled to the ground. With no hesitation, her next move followed. Heat spurring her on, and a feeling of absolute comfort encompassing her whole being. Straightening her legs and bending backward to avoid another sword, her arms swung wide for balance. Snapping up as the sword passed, she came in low at the form. This one had been a good swordsman, apparently. It avoided her lunge with practiced ease.

  Following the forward motion through, she turned just in time to counter the next attack. When her dagger connected with its sword, a bone-numbing chill ran through her body, mingling with the heat. She shuddered and nearly stumbled, Makagesh roared in her head, keeping her from completely losing herself to the shock of the ghastly touch. Gritting her teeth and growling from low within her stomach, Mey moved with a slow sway, looking for any opening.

  When the ghost came in again, she was ready for him. His sword sailed through the air, coming in from the right, she parried the blow and his sword flew wide. Again and again the sword came and each time she eluded the deadly blade. The ghost wasn’t going to tire, but she was. Enough of this game. Moving as if she were going to come straight at him, she stopped short of following through and sidestepped quickly, driving the blade into its side and dragging it through as she moved. The fiend’s mouth opened to scream in defiance even as he shimmered and flew apart, the droplets hitting her and sending small shivers throughout her body.

  Taking stock of those around her, Mey noticed her hearing slowly returning; at first, everything sounding muffled and then cleared. Final
ly realizing the rushing sound was her own blood flowing in her ears. Bob was gracefully dispatching ghost after ghost, Elerbee was clearly tiring but he rebuked scores of the creatures at a word. Thom threw bursts of light, shattering many at a time. But the most disturbing sight she found was Durlag.

  The dwarf was laughing wildly while swigging down huge gulps from his flask. He looked to be doing a strange, stomping dance. He’s finally gone mad. The ghosts have addled what was left of his brain. Taking two steps in his direction, thinking to try to sooth him, Mey noticed his stomping feet had a purpose. Bones. He was stomping on a pile of bones.

  Her mouth fell open and her brows came together in complete confusion. He noticed her stare and yelled, “Ha, Lassie! Watch!” He pointed to the ghosts nearest him. With a yell, his foot came down, hard atop the pile of bones. When it did, two figures shimmered and dissipated. Over and over he stomped on the pile of bones. Randomly, a ghost would disappear. “HA HA HA! Found their rotten bones, I did! Bye, bye, ghosties!” And with that, he took another swig from the flask and continued his stomping.

  Mey shook her head. He had found a way to combat the ghouls even without a weapon, save his own two feet. That dwarf was an enigma.

  “Mey!” The yell brought her around just in time to see one of the red-eyed monsters close enough to embrace her. And it seemed he was about to do just that; arms outstretched and a frozen grin on its face, showing the razor sharp teeth inside.

  Out of nowhere, Thom was there. He shouted a few words and lightning burst from his fingers, shooting into the creature. It shrieked. A horrifying sound that had Thom paralyzed and falling to his knees. Mey moved to bring her dagger around. Quicker than she thought even possible, the wight reached out a hand and plunged it through Thom’s chest.

  Thom jerked as the wight’s grin widened. A pain seared through Mey’s body as well. Gripping her heart and twisting it. Anger was the first to hit her and she let it flow with the heat, burning so hot that she was sure her skin would melt from her bones.

  “Yes,” a voice in her head whispered. “Yes. Let it out.”

  She felt the scream forming in the pit of her stomach, bubbling on the molten waves of her blood, searching for a release through her throat. A deafening sound burst from her and she could do nothing to stop it.

  The wight quickly let go of Thom to reach for his ghostly ears. When it did, Thom slumped to the ground, skin pale as death, lips blue. Too late, the thought hit her. He’s dead.

  Her lamenting scream went on, advancing on the creature as it shrank from her. Pinning it with her voice against the rock wall, she never let up. All the pain, anger, passion, and fear flowed out in that one shriek. The wight broke apart into tiny dew droplets, showering her. Then from all around, droplets of dew hit her as she turned to watch the remaining forms burst and fall to the ground.

  FOURTEEN

  They looked at her in shock, but there was no time to figure out what the stares meant. Thom! Oh, no, Thom! She fell to her knees beside him, almost afraid to touch him, she reached her fingers to his face, pale as death. His lips blue from the chill the creature sent through him, freezing his blood and his breath.

  His skin was icy to the touch. No, not again, she thought frantically. I’m losing everything that means something in my life…again.

  “You will not die,” she whispered through gritted teeth.

  A pair of gentle hands touched lightly on her shoulders. Shaking them off, she bent closer to Thom. The hands persisted, this time with a firm, hard grip that took hold and pulled her back.

  “Let go!” She tried to twist out of their grasp, but the hands held her firm.

  “Meylaran, eldu rahl,” her uncle’s firm voice admonished, “Move away; let Elerbee help him.” Bob moved her back so that the priest could take her place beside Thom.

  “Please, Elerbee,” she pleaded. “Don’t let him die.” She looked into his eyes, searching for the comfort she always found there. He appeared spellbound for a moment, and then he slowly nodded and turned his attention to Thom.

  His hands moved over Thom’s neck, pausing there for a moment, then on to his chest where the wight had penetrated flesh.

  “He’s breathing,” Elerbee sighed. “I will do what I can, but we need to get him to Sorga. The temple there will be better equipped to help.”

  Mey let out a shaky breath. Under her uncle’s gently urging hand, she moved to help them construct a litter to carry Thom. Everything was so surreal, every movement sluggish and without purpose. She kept telling herself over and over, he’s not gone, he’s not gone. She chided herself for all the unkind things she had said and done in the last weeks. Those are the things you remember when someone you love is facing death.

  Love? Do I love him? Since she had never felt love for anyone other than her family or Garrin, which was more love one would have for a brother, she couldn’t be certain. Her heart was breaking, she knew that. The ache sitting in her chest threatening to squeeze her heart into pieces was as real as any feeling she’d ever had.

  “Come, now, lass,” Durlag said, interrupting her thoughts. He took the cloak from her hands. “The priest will help him, surely. You needn’t fret.”

  “Right. Elerbee knows what to do.”

  “’Course he does!” An awkward silence hung between them, then Durlag said, “Here.” The ornate flask appeared in front of her eyes. “Just don’t drink that last drop, girl, or else I’ll lose me supply!”

  Mey looked at him, dumbfounded. He was offering her the only consolation he knew. The dwarf’s gruff demeanor had slipped ever so slightly. He was refusing to meet her gaze but his gesture meant the world to her all the same. Tears tugged again at her eyes. “Thank you, Durlag,” she managed to say and took the flask.

  “Hmpf, if it’ll get ye back to work, I’d offer ye my arms!” He stomped away to finish the litter.

  By tying their cloaks together, they managed to create a crude stretcher. Bob and Elerbee each lifted a corner of the litter. Thom, who was still pale had started to toss about slightly. Every time he moved, he let out a groan of utter agony.

  “Is he hurting?” she asked Elerbee. “Can you stop it?”

  “He’s feeling the effects of the wight’s touch. I’ve done what I can. It would be worse had I not.”

  Mey worried her bottom lip and nodded. Insisting on walking next to Thom as they traveled, she could keep an eye on his level of discomfort and alert Elerbee whenever it increased.

  At least the rain had stopped. She took out the flask Durlag had handed her earlier, contemplated actually drinking the contents, but decided she was better off clear headed. Looking back over her shoulder to find the dwarf trailing far behind, she stuffed the flask back in her belt.

  “We’ll have to make camp at some point,” Bob said. “It takes a day and a half to get from these hills into Sorga. We’ll just have to guess at the passing time.” He shrugged.

  “I’d rather not stop, if we can help it.” She felt desperate to get Thom to someone who could restore him wholly to himself.

  Bob was ready with a retort, but Elerbee intervened. “Mey, back there with the wight, do you remember what happened?”

  That caught her off-guard. “You all saw what happened. That thing nearly killed Thom and could possibly still do so.”

  “I mean with you. You managed to destroy what was left of the ghosts and wights. Do you remember?”

  “I remember a sensation of soaring out of myself; like I was on the outside looking down on it all. I was angry…and scared.” She swallowed back the tears that were forming in the corners of her eyes. “The heat was there. The heat that comes when my dragon side is emerging.”

  Bob glanced at Elerbee. “I do not think now is the time…” he began, but Elerbee cut him off.

  “I think now is the perfect time.” He lowered his voice, but she could still hear them. “She has changed. Physically. If she’s not aware already, she should be. It will need to be hidden when we enter the cit
y.”

  “What are you talking about?” Mey quickened her steps to walk beside them, hesitating briefly to make sure Thom was comfortable.

  Elerbee continued, “Mey, we saw something happen when you attacked those creatures.”

  “Something? What? Elerbee, spit it out!”

  “It seemed as though you shifted between two beings. One of them you, of course, but the other…the other was a dragon.”

  On rare occasions was she ever left speechless, without a thing to say, but now was one of them.

  “Tae’wa, it’s only the natural progression of what your mother handed down to you.” Bob shot a sideways glare at Elerbee.

  Finding her voice, she finally said, “Please, explain to me what you saw, Elerbee.” She wanted to know but there was also fear. Not understanding what was happening to her left her vulnerable. She had to know; needed to know.

  Elerbee’s face reddened and his obsession with invisible lint emerged. He used his free hand to pick at his immaculate robe, but managed to stammer on.

  “Um, well, I didn’t see the attack on Thom…” His voice was barely above a whisper.

  “Elerbee,” Mey pleaded, “I need to know, you said so yourself. This is happening and the more informed I am of what is going on, the better I will be able to control it.”

  His pained expression softened somewhat but there was still a degree of reluctance in his eyes. “Right. OK, I only saw what happened after.”

  “Just tell me what you saw.”

  “I was turning a group of spirits when I heard the scream. At first it threatened to deafen me, it was so loud. That’s when I turned my attention to what was happening. I spotted Thom on the ground and then saw you with the wight.”

  They slowed their steps enough for Durlag to catch up. He still hung back, pretending not to listen, but Mey knew he was eavesdropping.

  “You were, well, shifting.” Elerbee’s focus strayed as he recalled the events to her. “The sound I heard started as a scream but then changed to more of a roar. Your face, your body, started to shift. Like you were two different beings. You took on the shape of a dragon. A purplish-black dragon with the most astonishing silver eyes.” His voice took on a touch of awe as he looked at her. “I have only seen anything so wondrous one other time, and that was when Sirrah came to me to bestow his blessing.”