by Linn Tesli
“Let’s.”
A blazing flame escaped Fyrax’s mouth to travel through the opening above. He spread his wings wide, spinning out of Vulkan Mountain like an arrow released from its bow. The wind was a welcoming sensation of calm, filled with smog as it was. Archenon stroked a hand over his head. His scalp was smooth, yet dented with scarifications. He grimaced. The long ebony hair, the very symbol of pride that Archenon was used to, was gone. Shaking himself, he leaned forward on the dragon’s back. The warmth rolling off them both met in a scorching delight at Archenon’s touch.
“We are going to take back Lycobris from the tyranny it has suffered for too long. Then we will protect it with all our might. Together, Fyrax!”
The sky was painted with burning light as they flew south over the Vulkan wastelands. The eagles below squawked in response to the dragon’s screech. They would undoubtedly become menacing allies. Due north, the shimmer of the Êvina castle cast a dim glow into the night sky––the ultimate prize. However, for now, Lycobris would have to suffice. With the dragon on Archenon’s side, the youngling Kenith would perish in their joined wrath.
Fyrax leveled out as they soared on. Burning streams ran down the sides of the mountain below, flooding into the lava pits that had been constructed over a millennium earlier to avoid the lava from running out into the surrounding villages. They could not catch every drop, however, and a few housings nearby were already on fire. Casualties were bound to happen.
Archenon leaned forward on the dragon’s back. Their pulses beat as one.
”Our neighbors could use some help from your counter element,” Archenon said.
”I’m not really on speaking terms with the water dragon.”
”Just as well.”
The history of the elements was to Archenon’s benefit. Fyrax would not suspect anything just because Archenon didn’t introduce him to the other Elementals.
”Let’s enjoy the night. The people can manage a couple of burning houses.”
Fyrax and Archenon soared onward above the Vulkan wastelands. A flock of Vulkan eagles squawked up at them as they rushed past. Two of the eagles were biting at each other, arguing over a dead seal. The waves crashed against the hard rocks jutting into the ocean.
The eagles were a forceful part of Hadeth’s army, but they had no reason to be loyal to him. The only other real threat in the air would be the griffins, unless the other dragons decided to fight, though Archenon didn’t think that likely. Besides, most of the remaining griffins in Aradria nested in Bermunnos, and Sol had promised they would fight. He only had to fulfill his part of the bargain. However, Sol had returned to Bermunnos for the time being, preparing her army to join his. He would do what she wanted, though he wasn’t ready to allow Ayva to see him and the dragon yet. He had to get rid of Hadeth first.
”Fyrax,” Archenon whispered, knowing the dragon would hear him.
”Yes.”
”I think we should get to know the Vulkan eagles better.”
The ruby dragon chuckled. ”Their minds are as thick as rocks, though I think you’re right. They will prove useful. Unless Aradria has changed too much, they will bow to me.”
Fyrax banked sideways, arched his wings and began descending into the wastelands. The eagles spread out to make room for the dragon, though they didn’t flee. Instead, they bowed their heads as Fyrax had predicted, scratching their beaks on the hard surface. They were already submissive to Fyrax, which meant they would come when he called.
Archenon grinned. Lycobris would be his, and then, then they would take Aradria.
14
HAUNTED
- Kenith -
The merchant ship rocked back and forth. The waves were uneasy, like the rest of them. The four of them were crammed into one cabin; Haiz sat on her bunk, carving something onto a thick stick. Niila and Gaija sat on a couple of barrels, using a third barrel as a table between them.
Kenith stood by the circular window. The smog wafted across the surface of Khálára Ocean, clouding the view. They would soon reach the docks in Arvaex, however, and Kenith’s mind was preoccupied with the conflicting feelings of returning to his homeland. He turned away from the window and inhaled sharply as he took in Niila’s alabaster skin, watching how her sandy hair brushed against her shoulders as the ship swayed. He was glad she had come with him, though he feared for her all the same.
Gaija cleared her throat. ”Come here, fire born.” She waved Kenith over with two fingers.
He did as invited.
”I have something for you,” Gaija said, pointing at an object on the barrel-table. ”This here is an onyx pendant, forged in dragon fire and blessed by elven pixies on Nayanairi. It’s a talisman of glamour. I call it Pyrild. It should be able to take you through Lycobris without being recognized.”
So that was why she had left. Kenith’s eyes widened. The shape of the pendant looked like a pair of outstretched dragon wings. Subtle streams of ruby colors blended with the otherwise obsidian stone. He looked at Niila, then back at Gaija. ”There is only the one?”
”They don’t exactly spurt from the ground.”
”Then Niila should have it.”
Niila lay a hand on his forearm. ”Don’t be silly. No one there knows me. This is for you.”
”But you’ll stand out more than I do,” Kenith protested.
Gaija grabbed the pendant with the cloth it had been wrapped in and held it up in front of Kenith. ”No need to quarrel. Even if Niila wanted to use this, she could not. I told you, it was forged in dragon fire. Only a fire born can harness its power for his own. It very well might be dangerous for Niila to touch it, and even if she wasn’t harmed, it would not do her a bit of good.”
Haiz stopped carving, gazing over at the others. “You should feel honored, My Prince. Treasure that which you are given. Anything made by or from a dragon is rare.”
Kenith grimaced, then snatched the pendant back, unwrapping it once again. It was hanging from a bold onyx chain, beckoning him to wear it. He squinted at it but finally lifted the chain over his head.
”Kenith?” Niila asked.
”Yes?”
”Where did you go?”
”I’m right here.” Kenith reached for her hand again. She pulled back at his touch. Then she leaned forward and stretched her arm out until her palm landed on his chest.
”There you are.” She smiled. ”This will work wonders.”
”You can’t see me? I have to admit, that’s a rather neat trick!”
”Indeed.” Gaija grinned. ”And don’t worry, I will be with you the whole way. No one will touch Niila with me around.”
The younger elf rolled her eyes before she returned to her carving.
”Are you sure?” Kenith asked. He wasn’t convinced.
”Well, they can certainly try.” The shaman snickered, rubbing her hands together. The odd expression on Gaija’s face somehow made Kenith believe her. ”Now, take that thing off. As with all magic, you ought to use it with care.”
Kenith frowned and hurriedly lifted the necklace back over his head to tuck it in his pocket. ”What would happen if I wore it for too long?”
”I have to admit, I’m not exactly sure, but given what it does, it’s reasonable to believe that it might alter your personality. The longer you go unseen––the longer you’re not yourself––the more strain it puts on your sense of self. Make sense? Worst case, you would stay invisible forever.” Gaija shrugged.
Kenith shuddered. It was a tremendous gift, but one he could only use when he needed to the most. Besides, it was forged in dragon fire. It was meant for him.
The ship swayed, and a gravelly voice rang out overhead. ”We’ve reached the shore.”
It was time to get ready to step back into the land he had run away from almost two years earlier. The land that was supposed to be his to rule. His inheritance. Kenith swallowed hard and squeezed Niila’s hand. It was cold against his warmth, and it soothed him like nothing else in this wor
ld ever had.
”Ready?” she asked.
”Sure,” he said, as though he was as confident as ever. He wasn’t.
The tired streets struck a familiar chord with Kenith, and the strong smell of sulfur and muck was overpowering. He used to run up and down these walkways doing all sorts of errands for the mistress of his orphanage. She was gone now, along with everyone from Lycobris he had ever known. The dirt streets were not much of a pathway at all, it felt more like a work-out than a stroll. The thick mud was impossible to avoid, sticking to the soles of Kenith’s feet as if it was trying to keep him from moving forward.
”We will not stay long in the village, will we?” Niila asked, her eyes surveying the clusters of ravaged buildings.
”We’re going to walk straight through, then camp in the forest. It’s not exactly the best idea, but it’s a lot better than staying here.” Gaija winked.
Kenith bit his tongue. He didn’t want to stay in Arvaex either. The memories of blazing fire and agonizing screams pushed to the front of his mind. He shook his head to shake the memories off. It didn’t help much at all.
“Actually,” he said. “There’s someplace I have to go before we leave Arvaex. It’s by the southern part of the barricades.”
Gaija nodded. “I understand your desire, though there is nothing to see there any more.”
”Look,” Niila whispered. She had veered off towards a tavern. A crooked sign above the entrance read ’The Hol ow…’. An ‘l’ was missing. She waved them over.
Not many people were to be seen outside. One man sat hunched on the ground by the wall of another building that looked like it might have been a bakery at some point. It should be safe enough to stop and find out what Niila wanted them to see.
”What?” Kenith asked as he slid his hand around the small of her back.
She narrowed her gaze at him and pointed at the wall. A large scroll had been nailed to one of the beams holding the walls in place.
Kenith’s jaw dropped. If possible, it would have hit the ground. He was staring at his own face.
”Oh, my,” Gaija uttered. “That is one pretty bounty. The prize would make even the richest Jotter in this town seem poor. Who knew Lord Hadeth was this charitable?”
“He must want your head badly,” Haiz said.
It would seem so. They had to leave the village fast. Kenith had no desire to part ways with his body or his head.
”We really can’t stay here.” Niila tugged at Kenith’s hand.
The door to the tavern squeaked.
”On with it,” Gaija urged, pushing the Elementals away from the doors.
Kenith quickly pulled the chain over his neck and briefly registered the old man’s gaze on him by the bakery before two men stumbled outside from the tavern.
”That was some great stew tonight,” the first man said. He was probably in his late twenties, with raven black hair, and sported a longsword in his belt.
”A lot better than when Hyme was running this place.” The other man laughed. He was perhaps ten years younger than his companion and had no hair at all. Instead, half of his scalp and face was nothing but a large burn mark. He had been lucky to keep both eyes, by the looks of him.
They turned towards Niila, Haiz, and Gaija, revealing the crest of a dragon branded into the chests of their leather vests. Vaexenna guards. Kenith stepped back before he remembered he could not be seen.
”And hello there!” The burnt man grinned.
”Good day, sirs,” Gaija replied. She took Niila by her upper arm and began to walk away. Haiz had already walked off into the shade in an alleyway behind Kenith.
”Not so fast,” the burnt man said as he hurried in front of Niila and Gaija. ”You don’t belong here. Where are you from? Also, what are you doing with that elf over there?”
The younger man spat. “Why can’t those wretched elves stay hidden in the forest where they belong?”
”That was a lot of questions, sirs. None of which are any of your business,“ Gaija said.
“Of course it is.” The older man snickered. “We are Lycobrian guards. It’s our business to know everything about everyone, and we don’t know you.”
”Very well. My name is Eden, and this is Khali. We are simply passing through on our way to Caradrea. We won’t be staying.”
”I think you should stay a while longer.” The burnt man licked his distorted lips, his gaze on Niila.
Kenith squirmed. He wanted to intervene. If they knew a man was there, they would not go after the women. However, he was not any man, and the bounty on his head was all but laughing at him. He had to trust Gaija to know what she was doing.
The shaman raised her brows in Kenith’s direction, motioning with one hand behind her back just as Haiz walked further up the alley.
”Why don’t you walk with us?” Gaija took Niila’s arm.
The guards grinned more widely than before. None of them were looking at Gaija or Haiz, however. They were both staring at Niila. These men had eyes, and Niila was hard to miss. Her milky white skin and sandy locks were uncommon in these parts. It was far from challenging to imagine their thoughts.
Gaija held onto Niila’s arm, steering them past Kenith and into the alley.
The burnt man reached for Niila. That was it. Kenith wasn’t about to let them get away. He clasped the pendant, ready to pull it back over his head, when Gaija swirled around, clapping her hands together. A violet sheet of dust spread out from her palms as she stepped back, pulling Niila with her. The guards walked straight into the dust. They took one more step before dropping to the ground.
Kenith took off his necklace and ran to the women, careful to avoid the specks of violet still clouding the air. He threw his arms around Niila and angled his head back at the shaman.
”Are they dead?”
”Unfortunately not,” Gaija said. “I only hit them with a batch of dried Elfen mushrooms. They will wake up soon enough, so we’d best be on our way.”
The three of them scurried away from the guards and caught up with Haiz.
“What is your hurry?” Gaija asked the younger elf.
“You had the situation under control. Besides, the water born is not my concern; he is.”
Kenith was glad to know Haiz had his back, though her demeanor towards Niila was uncalled for.
“If I’m your concern, so is she,” he said. “She and I are bound, and your people will be lucky to have the chance to know her.”
Haiz massaged her temples. “I have allowed her to come, have I not? I’m not so sure about the lucky part, though if you approve, so will we. Until proven otherwise, that is.”
It would have to be a good enough answer for the time being. Kenith only hoped the rest of Haiz’s kin would be more welcoming than she was. He glanced at Niila. She was clearly listening, though said nothing. It had to be painful for her to be judged without the elves knowing nothing more about her than her element and affiliation with Kenith.
They continued south along the barricades that were still a good distance away. Long shadows stretched across the ground from the multitude of guards on patrol.
“It’s not far from here, I promise,” Kenith said. “I just… I have to go there.”
Keith’s stomach churned at the thought of reliving his memories. However, he had not been back since the day he burned down the orphanage. He needed to see the damage he had caused. Maybe then he could finally move on, if such a thing was possible. If he was going to rule this land, he had to face his demons first, however, and this was the only way he knew how.
15
NIGHT MARA
- Archenon -
Archenon leaned back on Fyrax’s scales. The dragon folded the tip of his wing over Archenon’s lap as if tucking him in. The smooth, yet stone hard surface of the dragon’s body was strange, yet it calmed him more than he thought possible. The connection between them was undeniable, and though Archenon had a hidden agenda, he could not deny how much he enjoyed the clos
eness of their fast-growing friendship. He could not remember the last time he’d had a friend, unless you considered Pyralis to have been one. Archenon had not given the old wizard much thought since his spirit was trapped in the Nhéoryn, and he wasn’t about to pay him much mind going forward either. He had important plans to put in action, and a dead man could not help him.
It was about time Archenon got rid of Lord Hadeth, but he could not ask it of Fyrax yet. He needed to strengthen his forces, someone loyal to him alone. His mind raced, flipping through pages of memories he had seen over the centuries. The sense of cool and confidence washed over him as his search brought him to the Elemental of water. Highly interesting, he thought. Her heart was filled with such bliss. Everything about her was focused on the supposedly future King of Fire. Archenon wanted to push deeper, to control her, but his head throbbed, threatening to make him pass out if he continued. As long as he was imprisoned inside a vessel, he could not do what he could before. He could only know what had already been known to him, not force anyone’s hand or learn more about them. He had to find a way to break free of the Nhéoryn, though that would be a problem for another day.
What he saw gave him an idea, however. He smiled to himself; it was the perfect plan. He would raise the dead from the ashes. And not just anyone. An army of undead children would wreak havoc unlike any Aradria had ever seen. They would be nigh on impossible to defeat, and loyal only to the one who resurrected them. They would have no empathy, no love, none of those horrific feelings which led the living to make mistakes and hesitate in matters of the heart, life or death.
It had been centuries since Archenon first summoned the Night Mara. He would have to do better this time, especially if he was going to summon an entire horde of the buried spirits. Perhaps, with Fyrax’s help, it would work. Even though the bond he had forged between them wasn’t truly that of an Elemental with his dragon, it was still forged in fire, and their joint powers were exceptional. He could feel the energy flowing between them, lending each other strength with every breath.
