Reborn (The Dragons of Cantor Book 1)

by Lela Robichaux

  “In Nott. Mages were being sent to help with a new settlement there before I left. They were harvesting the trees.”

  “Are there caves there?” She lifted her face, looking at him.

  “Why?”

  She shrugged. “I can’t be sure, but the last thing I saw looked like an opening to a cave.”

  “Mey…”

  Something in his voice alerted her. He knew something he wasn’t telling her.

  “Maybe I should contact the Circle again,” he said. “Perhaps they can confirm the things you’re telling me. If they can sense a magical presence in the dwarven cities or even in the Forest of Nott, we would have a better direction.”

  Mey was nodding. “Yes. They could pinpoint the areas we need to go in the places I saw.”

  They sat a few more moments, not saying anything, just holding on to one another. She wanted so much to stay this way forever and forget all this dragon business. But as she moved her arms, she caught sight of the shimmering purple scales that had surfaced on her arms, stopping just before her fingers on the tops of her hands.

  He caught her hand as she pulled it away. How was he not repulsed to touch her? He moved his hand up her arm, stroking the rough scales, amazement in his eyes. She watched his face. Not once did he flinch away from the changes her body was going through. He thought her eyes beautiful, he’d told her. And now, he caressed her skin as if it were the softest silk.

  Admittedly, it felt nice to have someone accept her totally and wholly for who she was and what she was becoming. But an alarm somewhere inside screamed these were dangerous waters she and Thom were treading. With every effort in her will, she forced herself to pull away.

  His brow pulled together in confusion as he looked at her. Laying a hand against his cheek, she felt the stinging tears again.

  “We should get back to the others.”

  “What are you afraid of?” he whispered back.

  She took a deep breath, intending to tell him all she was afraid of; the look in his eyes, losing her heart to him, not having control of what was happening to her, feeling her soul ripped to pieces at the injustice she saw around her, dying, living. But she simply said, “Nothing.”

  A knock on the door interrupted anything more he would have said.

  “Meylaran?” Her uncle’s voice on the other side.

  Reluctantly, she moved to open the door. Bob’s concerned face greeted her.

  “Is everything all right?” He glanced over her shoulder to Thom.

  “Yes, uncle. I was just overwhelmed with the power from the Heartstone. There were visions. Telling me where to go next, I think.”

  “Perhaps we should go up and talk to everyone.” Thom had come up behind her.

  Mey nodded and moved past her uncle and up the few steps to the open deck of the ship. Breathing in the fresh air, the closeness of the cabin and the fears Thom made her think of fell away.

  They found a spot on deck to settle in and Mey told them everything, starting with the image of her mother and how she believed the visions following were from her mother, telling her what to do next. She told them of the image of dwarves and a city burning. It was hard, but she forced herself to look Durlag in the eye the entire time she retold that vision. If she could have, she would have taken all the pain she saw in his eyes and etched into his face and endured it for him. He was estranged from his clan but that didn’t mean he didn’t still care for them. Loyalty to one’s clan was deeply ingrained in dwarven tradition. And not knowing what dwarven city she had seen gave no comfort at all.

  She told them of the Forest of Nott, close to the new settlement. And finally, the cave within that forest.

  The plan of action from there was to have Thom contact the Mage’s Circle to see if they could pinpoint any specific locations for them and proceed to the Rachnor Pass. The Pass would lead them into the dwarven cities: Ordin, Chal and Stord. Which city their journey would take them to depended on the Mage’s Circle. If the Circle couldn’t help them, they would just have to visit each through the Pass.

  **********

  Thom used the captain’s room for his transport spell. Setting out his stones, the last of those needed for communicating with the Circle, he prepared himself for this meeting. He’d come a long way from the novice scholar they’d sent out to find the Descendant. Being close to evil and even closer to death had changed him. It was still his most important task to get Mey to the Idylic so that she could summon the dormant dragons. But, he knew also that he couldn’t ignore his own thoughts and feelings. He was more than a pawn for the Circle to move about at their whim.

  Mey taught him that. Being around her, protecting her, watching her change, it all added to his growing surety that he was meant to devote himself to her. Is that why the Circle sent him? Had it been known from the beginning? He was pushed from the time he could read to study and learn all he could of the dead race of dragons. Only it wasn’t dead, he had eventually discovered. At that point, he was encouraged to follow his theories and learn more about them. It was always dragons.

  Slowing his breathing, he let the words of the spell speed silently through his mind, calling up the image of the Mage’s Tower. Magic energized him and the euphoric energy filled his body. The familiar walls formed and voices faded in and out as the spell concluded. When he opened his eyes, they were gathered around him.

  After imparting the information of what Mey had seen when she took possession of the Heartstone, the Circle sat quietly. The Magister broke the silence.

  “Thom, we have felt the growing magical energies in the locations you have indicated. Especially in the Forest of Nott.”

  “Is there a cave system there, Magister?”

  “Oh, yes. The entrance to the Caverns of Time is in the heart of the forest.”

  Thom felt his pulse increase. It made sense that the Caverns of Time would be their ultimate destination. Where else would the dragons go but to a place where existence meant nothing and everything. A place where time stood still and split in every direction simultaneously. A place that could rip a person to shreds the moment he set foot in it. Quite possibly the most dangerous place on Cantor.

  “Thom,” the Magister’s voice made him look at the man. “The priests are sending out every force they have to find you. Elerbee’s sect has been in contact with us and we will do what we can from here. The danger to the Descendant has increased and will only keep increasing the closer you get.”

  “Yes, I understand.”

  “And you enter dwarven territory,” a female member spoke up. “She will not be welcomed warmly there.”

  “Each dwarven city and its clans have a small degree of magic. However,” the Magister tilted his head as if listening, “Chal is curiously devoid of any magical energy whatsoever.”

  Nodding, Thom thought of Durlag’s stories of the land where his clan resided. Stord was his home, but the three cities worked together to survive. If one was cut off, the others would surely suffer.

  “We will head for Chal, then.”

  “You must hurry. Two of the signs have already come to pass. The third looms close and will be upon us soon,” a female voice reverberated throughout.

  The walls shimmered once. The spell was weakening. The Magister stood and walked to the center of the Circle where Thom sat. Bones creaked as he knelt, and Thom had the urge to reach out and help him as he lowered himself agonizingly to the floor. It would have been useless since the image was just that; an image. Thom watched in wonder as the old man positioned himself just inches from where he sat.

  “This will aid you.” The Magister placed something on the floor, bent his head reverently and spoke soft words. Thom didn’t recognize the spell but the power of it nearly took his breath away.

  “You can call upon the energy of the Circle to infuse you if you should have need. What you do for us, for the world, is of the highest commendation, Thom.”

  Speechless, he let his head bow to the old man. They were gift
ing him with the Power of the Circle. Never in this generation had it been given. The histories’ last record of it was over a thousand years old. He felt a cool wind blow gently across his face and he looked up. The Magister’s hand was out as if laid upon his shoulder. There was sadness in his eyes, but hope as well. His voice was a whisper when he spoke.

  “She does love you. But her love for the people and her duty to protect them is stronger. It grows each day. She needs you more now than ever. Protect her, Thom. Lead her to her destiny.”

  A hard knot formed in his throat and he swallowed several times trying to force it down. He could only nod his agreement. The Magister’s image faded, shimmered and fell away in wisps of foggy color.

  For a long time, Thom sat, attempting to calm his pulse and slow his breathing back to normal. Finally, he looked down and carefully picked up the black stone. He brought it close to his face, examining the silver and blue veins running through it.

  Their course of action was set. They must head for Chal. The complete absence of magical energy indicated something amiss. Thom didn’t want to imagine the next leg of that journey.

  The Caverns of Time. The very core of magic in the world, the Caverns could shield the dragons from any force on Cantor. No one knew what became of the Idylic itself, but Thom was convinced they would find it within the Caverns.

  Coming to this conclusion, he rose to inform the others. They would have to step up their protection of Mey. She was in more danger now and the dwarves would not accept her heritage gently. Preparations needed to be made to hide the physical changes distinctive as dragon-born. Magical disguise would be all but useless around dwarves, who naturally repelled most simple magic.

  Emerging from the lower deck, Thom squinted in the brightness of the sun. How much longer would this last? There was no answer, but he knew they must make the most of the time they had.

  He found his friends and the crew engaged in the normal activity of the ship. Elerbee stood at the ship’s bow, coaxing the wind and waves to work in unison, speeding their travel. Mey was with him, face to the sky, wind streaming through her amaranthine hair, a tiny smile on her lips.

  As if she sensed him, she turned, expectant. His breath caught. How could anyone find her anything less than magnificent? The changes only made her more so and lent to her beauty. She couldn’t see it, but it’s all he saw when he looked upon her. He moved toward her, restraining the urge to reach out and touch her.

  “What did they say?” she asked.

  “There is a magical void in Chal. We should target that city. There’s been no other magical changes the Circle can detect.”

  Elerbee glanced over his shoulder. “And the cave?”

  He hesitated, drawing full attention from them both. Taking a deep breath, Thom went on.

  “The Caverns of Time are located in the heart of the Forest of Nott.”

  “The Caverns of Time!”

  Thom swiveled around to see Bob. Durlag approached a few paces behind. Bob knew the Caverns, that much was evident by the look on his face.

  “Yes,” Thom said.

  “We cannot go there. Any who enter are doomed to death. Time is unforgiving and cares not for the fate of the world.”

  “But it is where the Heartstone is leading us,” Mey put in.

  “Maybe it is not. Maybe it is tricking you!” His words were pleading and it was the most emotion Thom had ever seen the elf exhibit.

  “My mother showed –“

  “Your mother would never put you in danger,” Bob interrupted.

  “Stop!” Thom forced his way between the two. To Bob, he said, “We need to remember our goal. We get Mey to the Idylic so she can call the dragons and right the world.” Turning to Mey, his voice losing its sharp edge, he said, “Your destiny is within the Caverns, but first, we must see to the dwarven city.”

  “Aye,” Durlag spoke for the first time. “Me brothers and sisters may need us. I may be a shame to them, but I have a chance to change that. Concentrate on one thing at a time, lass.” He put a soothing hand on Mey’s arm. “We’ll get ye where ye need to be.”

  No more explosive arguments presented during the rest of the trip. Thom chalked up Bob’s worry to an overly concerned uncle. He didn’t want to see his niece hurt any more than the rest of them, but she was the closest thing to a daughter Bob had ever had, so his overprotective flare was understandable.

  The ship made landfall on the banks of Rachnor, the land that housed the dwarven cities. They paid Lon and his sons, bid them a safe trip home and continued on toward the Rachnor Pass, a path cut between the mountains that would lead them past each city.

  Durlag chattered along the way, keeping Mey engaged in stories of his youth and his father and of the dragon that eventually “went wrong” and kept the city of Stord captive. Thom noticed the closer they got to the first city, Ordin, the more frequent the swills on his beloved, ornate flask became. At first it made his stories more colorful, full of grandiose adventure. Then, as he stumbled along, mumbling more to himself than anyone else, he became more introverted.

  Mey glanced back, worry in her eyes.

  Thom nodded, acknowledging her concern. The demons Durlag prepared to face were much stronger than any they had encountered thus far and if the dwarf needed to indulge a bit more to keep his courage, so be it.

  Mountains rose on either side as they progressed. At one point, Thom couldn’t resist stopping to examine a stone that caught his eye. It was very similar to onyxiad, the stone used for electrical spells. It had the same black hue but it was very brittle, almost falling apart in his hands.

  “Shylyte,” Durlag told him.

  “What is it used for?”

  “Hmph, not good for nothin’ but getting’ in a body’s way when trying to tunnel through good rock.”

  Thom pocketed several larger pieces anyway. It would be interesting to study when he got back to Val. He stopped in his tracks. Back to Val. He wasn’t sure he’d make it back.

  As the Pass narrowed, the mountains grew taller and a strong, constant wind gusted through. The path channeled the wind, making it stronger.

  “Ordin harnesses the wind and uses it to irrigate their crops and drain waste out of the city,” Durlag said. “It gets worse afore it gets better.” He chuckled as a particularly strong gust blew through and sent him skittering right into Bob’s back, taking them both down.

  Bob untangled himself as Durlag lay on the ground chuckling and muttering about some fool dwarf who thought he could trap lightening and use the wind to send it through the city creating light without candles and other tomfoolery.

  “Maybe we should take a rest?” Elerbee suggested.

  The consensus was that, indeed, they should give Durlag time to sober himself before they moved on. Soon, the dwarf’s snores were echoing off the stone walls around them.

  Eventually Thom was nodding off as well. Mey and Elerbee had already fallen asleep. He and Bob held out longer, trying to keep a watch, but fatigue won the fight and they both drifted to sleep as well.

  The world shook violently. Something was coming and he had to protect her. Another shake, almost rattling his teeth. Why couldn’t he see anything? Distantly, he could hear her calling for him.

  “Thom, Thom.”

  Consciousness rushed in as he heard his name repeated over and over. Realization that someone was shaking him brought him closer to waking. He opened his eyes quickly. Mey’s face was inches from his; better than any dream he could have wished to have. He smiled at her.

  But she was not smiling in return. Something wasn’t right. He sat up, trying to clear the fog of sleep from his head. As he came fully aware, he could hear Durlag’s voice, raised and full of indignation.

  “I tell ye again, we only want to pass through to Chal! I ain’t no spy!”

  There was only one other dwarf that Thom could see. His long beard was braided and decorated, he carried the largest war hammer Thom had ever seen, slung over one shoulder like i
t weighed nothing. He wore only breeches and a vest, showing his heavily muscled arms. The new dwarf barked something at Durlag in a gravely language Thom had never heard before.

  Durlag growled low in his throat and before anyone knew it was coming, he pulled back his arm and let his fist fly. Straight into the nose of the other. A spell of defense automatically came to mind and he heard the others around him moving, presumably for their weapons.

  Everyone poised to react. The two dwarves faced one another, Durlag scowling, the other shocked and bleeding freely from his nose.

  Then the unfamiliar dwarf smiled, reached out and clapped Durlag on the shoulder. They spoke again in the strange language. Durlag offered over his flask and the dwarf drank in appreciation.

  Thom’s confusion was now complete. Looking around, he saw the others were just as mystified. What had just happened? Were they in danger? As if he read their minds, Durlag turned to answer the unspoken questions.

  “Ye can’t show any fear to these Ordinians. Kinda squirrely, ye see.” He twirled a finger about his head to emphasize his meaning. “They understand drink, though. Like any good dwarf would!”

  No one moved. Each still poised in defense.

  “Put the weapons away, fools! They’ll think we don’t trust ‘em,” Durlag said.

  Mey moved first, sheathing the daggers she held in each hand. Bob followed suit. Elerbee continued to whisper, however. Thom watched him move next to Mey and lightly touch her arm. The scales on her arms faded to a shade matching her skin tone. Disguise. The dwarves would be all but impervious to his magical attempts at covering her identity, but divine power would work to trick their clever minds into seeing just what Elerbee wanted them to see.

  Thom nodded his quick approval.

  Bob stepped forward to Durlag.

  “Will they let us pass on to Chal?”

  “Sure. We’ll have to share drink with them first.” He turned to the other dwarf and said something none of them understood. The dwarf nodded and took another long drink from the flask. “He’ll lead us to Ordin.”