A Time of Darkness (The Circle of Talia)

by Lister, Dionne

  “I think so. I feel strong enough, and it will only be for a short time. I’ll be fine.” Blayke narrowed his eyes and frowned, but Arcon just turned his back on his nephew, kicked his horse and moved off at a walk. Once Bronwyn was settled behind Blayke, they followed Arcon in silence. It was going to be a long day.

  Chapter 11

  After saying goodbye to their fellow realmists, Arie spent the day exploring the valley, while Agmunsten met with Zim, Arcese, Bertholimous, Warrimonious, King Valdorryn, and Queen Jazmonilly. No other dragons would be trusted with more than they needed to know. Zim didn’t know who Symbothial had betrayed them to, but so much about his cousin’s behavior didn’t fit. They couldn’t afford to open themselves up to more betrayal.

  “So it’s agreed then. My sister, Arcese, and I will fly Agmunsten and Arie to Bayerlon to help King Edmund retrieve his daughter and get Prince Leon under control. We may need your help Bertholimous, if we go to war with Inkra.” Zim shifted on his bench seat, wishing he were not talking of war, although Prince Leon and a few thousand humans were not going to be much of a match for the strength and tactics of an army fortified with dragons—unless….

  “I know what you’re thinking, Zim,” said Agmunsten, “but I don’t think Leon will have any gormons, or anything else, at his disposal. I think he may have one realmist, but I can’t be sure.

  “Better to be safe than sorry, as they say.” Bertholimous looked at Warrimonious, his second-in-charge. “We’ll keep in touch, every night. I’ll have Arcese ward our conversations. If one of us doesn’t check in, we should assume something has happened.”

  “Then what?” asked Warrimonious.

  “I don’t know. I suppose it depends on the situation.”

  “Excuse me. I hate to interrupt, but that doesn’t sound like much of a plan.” King Valdorryn looked from his master of war to his captain and back again.

  “Have you got a better one, Sire?”

  “Hmm, no. It’s been an extremely long time since we’ve had to deal with war. I’m a bit rusty: we all are.”

  Agmunsten spoke. “I’m going to send for one of the teachers and four students from The Academy. I think it’s time you shared your Talian natural magic secrets with more realmists. We’ll need the advantage when it comes time to fight the gormons. Have you got anyone here who can teach them?”

  Arcese looked at her mother and smiled. “My mother is quite good, actually.”

  “Well, I don’t like to brag, but I can hold my own with my talented daughter. I’d be only too happy to share some of our secrets with them.”

  Agmunsten stifled a cough when he saw the queen flutter her eyelashes. He hadn’t even realized dragons had eyelashes—and just when he thought he’d seen everything. “Good; it’s settled. So, I think it’s time to get to bed. We have an early start tomorrow.”

  King Valdorryn listened, all the while tapping his claws on the table. When he spoke, his voice had taken on the edge of menace Agmunsten heard after Symbothial had been murdered. And he looked straight at the head realmist. “If it comes to war, you keep my daughter out of it. Do you understand? I won’t have any of our female dragons fighting, and certainly not my daughter.” A tendril of smoke escaped his nostrils and drifted towards the ceiling.

  Agmunsten combed thick fingers through his beard. “I wasn’t planning on sending her to war, Valdorryn, but we may have to before this gormon thing is finished.”

  Valdorryn leaned forward and pointed a clawed finger at the realmist. “If I hear my daughter has been used to kill anyone, or has been put in the way of danger, I will be forced to take action.”

  “I am inclined to agree with the king. No wife of mine is going to war. It’s my job to protect her—not the other way around.” Warrimonious looked at the realmist, then at Arcese, who stared back at him with a look that would have sent a lesser dragon scurrying out of sight.

  Agmunsten didn’t want to provoke the king, but in the current situation, they needed all the man and dragon power they could get. The head realmist stood, but was, of course, still shorter than the seated dragon king. “I will promise to do my best to keep her out of it, but I will never say never, and neither should either of you if you want to see the gormons sent back to the Third Realm. This war isn’t about choices; it’s about have-to’s. I will do what I have to, and if you don’t like it, you can kill me later. Good night.”

  He strode out of the room without waiting to be dismissed. Silence followed him.

  ***

  Sunrise came late to the valley—the sun had to clear the mountains, and today there were clouds to contend with. When Agmunsten roused Arie, a light sheen of rain coated the window. The boy was surprised to be woken. In his excitement, he vowed he wouldn’t sleep, but sleep he had. He padded over to the washbasin and shocked his face to alertness with a splash of cold water.

  “Put your shoes on, have breakfast, and relieve yourself, then carry your bag up six flights from here, to the level with black arrows—the launching level. I’ll see you there.”

  “Gee, thanks for reminding me to go to the toilet. I never would have thought to do that all by myself.” Arie put his thumb in his mouth and sucked.

  “No need to get smart. There’s no good telling me you need to go when we’re 2,000 feet off the ground.”

  “Can’t we just be like the birds and do it on unsuspecting ground dwellers?” Arie chuckled.

  “You might find it’s a bit cold and precarious perched on a dragon flying at speed. That’s the last place I’d be pulling my pants down.”

  “Too much information. Now all I can picture is your wrinkly behind. Okay, I’m going to have breakfast before I lose my appetite.”

  “You started it.” Agmunsten shrugged and ruffled the young boy’s hair as they left.

  After forcing down his breakfast on a stomach infested with butterflies, Arie made sure he went to the toilet. When he was done, he ran up all six flights of stairs, sliding his fingertips along the smooth stone walls as he went, his full bag jangling about on his back. He had dreamed of flying on a dragon ever since he was a small boy at home when his mother would tell him bedtime tales of brave warriors riding fierce dragons. It didn’t seem real that he truly would be high above the ground on Zim’s back in a few minutes. His face flushed with more than his exertion when he reached his destination, over ninety feet above the valley floor.

  Agmunsten greeted him at the top of the stairs, “Come this way, lad.” Arie noticed his mentor wore a heavy, black, tight-fitting cloak and thick, yamuk-skin lined boots, the sky-blue wool encircling the top of his calves. It took several minutes to walk the entire length of the hallway. When they reached the dark stone wall at the end, Agmunsten reached down to a bundle on the floor. He picked up a fawn-colored coat and handed it to Arie. “Here, put this on. It’s going to be very cold out there, and do your hood up too.”

  Arie let his bag slip to the floor before sliding his arms into the luxurious coat. He was pleased to feel that the yamuk-skin wool lined the coat too. He buttoned it up and fastened the hood over his head, tightening it under his chin with soft ribbons that poked from the bottom of the rim of the hood. He couldn’t help but shut his eyes for a moment, like a contented pussycat.

  “Enough of that, lad. Are you ready?” Arie could see even Agmunsten’s eyes glistened with childlike anticipation.

  “You bet! Have you ever ridden a dragon?”

  “Nope. This will be my first time.” He grinned and rubbed gloved hands together. “Oh, and there should be gloves in your pocket. Put them on. One word of warning, lad: dragons are not horses, or inferior animals. Treat Arcese with respect and don’t tell her where to go. Listen to any instructions she has and obey immediately.” Arie nodded, his hair rubbing against the plump wool in his hood.

  The boy turned at the faint, yet familiar, click, click on the tiled floor. Zim reached them and smiled, a minute stretching of black lips, exposing only a few teeth. Arie looked at Agmunsten, an
d asked, “Do you ever get used to that?”

  Agmunsten barked a short laugh. “Eventually.”

  “What did I do?” Zim pretended to be offended. “Maybe I should just smile all the time and you’d get over it soon enough ... if you didn’t die of fright first.” Zim winked a huge eye.

  “You’d better stop that, Zim, or our boy will be running back to the toilets.” It was Agmunsten’s turn to wink.

  “Sorry I’m late.” Arcese joined them, and Arie noticed, for the first time, that each dragon had a harness that wrapped behind front legs, or arms—Arie never knew what to call them and was too scared to ask—to their backs and another strap around their bellies behind their wings. Attached to these straps was a saddle. Both dragons looked uncomfortable wearing them; Arcese gave a slight torso twist intermittently—it looked like she was trying to adjust, or banish, the unwieldy contraption.

  “Are you okay wearing those?” Agmunsten knew this was asking a lot of the dragons. The other reason they didn’t like wearing saddles is that thousands of years ago, before dragons dominated, a harsher race of humans—predecessors to the Inkrans—had lived in consort with the gormons. They had control of the dragons and enslaved them, forcing them to wear similar saddles. The dragons had toiled: working the fields, building things, whatever the humans and gormons could compel them to do. This was at a time when the natural magic had been unknown by the dragons—Drakon had transported the dragons to Talia, thinking it was a safe and rich land, not realizing the gods of the Inkrans had other ideas. The old stories were lost to most dragons, and Drakon hadn’t explained to the realmists the knowledge and power the Inkrans used to have. The dragons just knew it signified a darker time, a time of shame and imprisonment.

  “We do what we have to—you said it yourself. You won’t hear us complaining. The only thing I’ll ask is that you hold on tight. There is a strap on the saddle,” Zim shuddered as he spoke, “that you put over your lap—it should help you stay on.” He looked at his sister. “Are you ready, Princess?”

  Arcese laughed. “Yes, Brother.”

  It had been many years since he’d used that affectionate term with her, and she was glad to be reminded of their childhood. “Shall we?”

  They turned to face the end of the corridor, and Arie wondered what they were doing—there was no door or window. Zim walked and placed his hands on the solid stone. He shut his eyes and concentrated. When he removed his hands, the wall slid sideways with a sound like a giant grinding his teeth. Arie guessed the stone had disappeared into a recess.

  A ledge ended four feet in front of the opening. The valley spread before them; acres of lush grass shaded near the river by majestic trees. The rain had ceased, and the clouds were clearing; rays from the sun spilled over the western peaks to illuminate the valley floor. Two dragons were out on the thermals, gliding and playing, deftly swooping low before rising up to where eagles nested. Arie stood, hypnotized, while the breeze caressed his face, its spring-scented fingers trying to wriggle beneath his hood. He stepped closer to the edge, not wanting to miss anything, not wanting to forget. Agmunsten grabbed his arm. “Not so fast. That’s a long way to fall.”

  Arie shook his head, disengaging the stupor. When he grinned, Agmunsten basked in the unfettered and untarnished joy of the twelve-year-old. “Don’t worry; I wasn’t going anywhere.”

  The opening in which they stood was not wide enough for them all. Arcese spoke. “Arie, please come inside and climb onto my back. It’s time we embarked. I imagine King Edmund is eager to receive us.”

  Arie walked in and settled his pack on his back. He patted the dragon’s neck. “Sorry Arcese, and thank you for allowing me this privilege.”

  “You are welcome, young Arie.” Arcese crouched down and braced herself for the boy to climb on. She knew it wouldn’t hurt—she would hardly feel the weight of his skinny body—but the feeling of being commanded or forced by another was something she feared. Maybe it was in her blood, a genetic remembrance from ancient times. Her eyes closed as Arie placed one foot in the stirrup.

  Arie reached up to grasp the edge of the saddle; even crouching, as she was, Arcese was tall. He heaved himself on and flung his leg over, stepping his other foot into the stirrup hanging over the other side. After he strapped the leather belt over his lap, he looked for somewhere to hold on, as there were no reins—the dragons had not agreed to that. “Arcese? Where can I hold on?”

  “Place your fingers under my scales. Your gloves will protect your fingers from getting cut, and my scales won’t fall off.” Arie found two scales, just behind either side of the dragon’s shoulders. Each scale was about the size of a man’s hand. Arie leaned forward to burrow his fingers under them. He noticed Arcese’s subtle scent, a mixture of damp earth and fresh rain, and wondered that he’d never noticed it before. Of course dragons would smell like something; he’d just never imagined what it could be, and if he’d been asked to imagine, he probably would have expected they’d smell like horses or smoke. He was glad he would have been wrong.

  Confident he was seated comfortably and had something to hang onto, Arie looked over at Agmunsten climbing onto Zim, the older realmist moving smoothly, showing nothing of his age. When Agmunsten was seated and had found his grip, he turned his head and looked at Arie. “You good to go?”

  “Yep.” Arie nodded sagely once, a gesture he’d seen his father do many times when discussing important matters with the village council. He gripped the scales tighter when Arcese shifted beneath him as she stood.

  Arcese spoke to him, mind to mind. Okay, Arie hold on. If you feel like you’re slipping or getting tired, make sure you let me know quickly, as it takes time to land, and I’d hate to lose you.

  He could hear the mirth in her mind voice at the last, but that did nothing to calm his nerves.

  Arie felt Arcese’s smooth gait as she walked backwards. Zim followed her, not stopping until they were some twenty feet from the opening. Arie watched as Zim started running, his stocky, powerful legs accelerating at a pace the boy would have thought impossible. When the dragon reached the opening, he kept going, and Arie held his breath. Half a second before Zim launched off the ledge, he threw his wings out and glided away, quickly reaching a thermal and rising, instead of falling, as Arie had feared. Arie giggled when Agmunsten’s fading Woohoo of joy reached him.

  The boy fell silent when Arcese crouched slightly before exploding into a run. The opening sped towards them, and Arie leaned closer to Arcese, digging his fingers in as hard as he could, his adrenalin-filled body tense yet excited. Vellonia’s walls disappeared as they were birthed into fresh air, and the dragon leapt off the ledge. Arie forced his eyes to stay open—either he would die or fly, and he wanted to watch, no matter what was about to happen—he didn’t want to have to say, when asked about his first flight on a dragon, that he had kept his eyes scrunched shut.

  Even sheltered behind Arcese’s strong neck, Arie felt the wind tug at his hood. He was forced to squint his eyes against its assault as tears blurred his vision—he dared not try and wipe them away. And then, suddenly, he could open his eyes as the dragon caught a thermal, slowing, yet still rising. Arie kept his grip strong but cautiously looked down. When the momentary dizziness cleared, Arie gasped at the valley shrinking beneath them. They were climbing fast, now almost in line with the top of the tallest peaks surrounding Vellonia. The massive trees and buildings in the valley were no more than different-colored blots on the green landscape, and the river was a slim serpent silently wending its way through the unreal scene.

  When they cleared the mountains, Zim stayed his northerly course, and Arcese pumped her wings twice to catch up to her brother. When she drew next to him, Agmunsten turned to smile at Arie and spoke into his mind, So lad, how did you like that?

  Arie was so excited that he started speaking out loud, “It was fantastic! I can’t believe I’m flying!”

  Agmunsten interrupted in his mind. Arie, lad, I can hardly hear you, what w
ith the wind and my hood covering my ears. Speak to me in here.

  Agmunsten, more confident of staying on the dragon’s back than Arie, let go of Zim’s scales and tapped his head with a finger.

  Oops, sorry. Is that better? Agmunsten nodded. I was saying that it was the most incredible thing ever, and I can’t believe I’m flying. The land looks so strange from up here; it’s like I can see patterns I couldn’t before, kind of like one of mum’s tapestries. If my parents could see me now, they wouldn’t believe it. He shook his head and grinned.

  Agmunsten watched his protégé and took heart in the boy’s momentary happiness. He hoped Arie would see his parents again one day, because if anything happened to him he would never forgive himself. Out of all his apprentices, the old man thought he liked Arie the best. The boy was a quick learner, laughed at Agmunsten’s bad jokes, and it was obvious he had affection for the head realmist. Agmunsten felt renewed pressure: they had so much to lose, and the gormons had so much to win.

  Zim interrupted his thoughts. It won’t be easy, but we’ll do it; we’ll rid Talia of those monstrosities. They’re an abomination, and we have Drakon’s help. That has to count for something.

  That’s what worries me, Zim. Why is Drakon the only one willing to help us. Where are the other gods? According to our limited records, they didn’t intercede last time, either. What do they know that we don’t? What has Drakon done that they don’t communicate with each other?

  Maybe nothing, Agmunsten. Maybe your gods have abandoned you. I wouldn’t complain since Drakon is there for you when your own gods aren’t.”

  “He’s helping but he’s helping because he wants to save his dragons. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s used humans for the dragon’s gain.

  I love you, Agmunsten, but please don’t insult my god. I have my limits, you know.

  Sorry, Zim. Just thinking it through out loud. I mean no offense, but you have to see what I’m saying. I think there’s more to this gormon invasion than we know. Let’s hope we don’t need to know what that is to survive the coming war.