Dark Hope of the Dragons (Elysium's Fall Book 1)

by Nikki Mccormack

Dephithus, riding in front today, grinned over one shoulder at his companion. “Then I am sure you will let me know.”

  Rakas looked ready to spit at him, and Dephithus turned his smug smile to the front.

  Late in the afternoon, the animal path brought them up a little less than a mile west of Kithin. It would require some backtracking to stop at the village before going on to the cave, but Dephithus did not feel like they had much choice. They needed to reach the caves with some strength to spare. The obvious displeasure in the other man’s manner delighted Dephithus and was more than enough to convince him that the stop was absolutely necessary.

  If Kithin welcomed them, then Amahna had most likely not found a way to warn Theruses of their coming. No matter how he looked at it, their odds would be better if they only had Theruses to face without Amahna by his side. Even better if Theruses did not know they were coming. His vengeance on Amahna would simply have to wait for another day.

  Upon first look, the village of Kithin appeared normal. If anything, it was more enchanting than most in some peculiar way. The sun had broken through the mist over the top of this place and the sound of laughter and children playing greeted them as they drew near. It was not until Dephithus began to get a good look at the people of Kithin that he started to feel uneasy with the place. All of them, children and adults, had black hair and blackened over eyes, just like Rakas. He stood out as different in most places with his hints of scaling and strange eyes, but here he might as well be wearing a brand on his forehead labeling him as an outsider. At least they were unlikely to have heard of him here given that Imperious was much too far to be useful for trading, which meant they would probably not know that there was a bounty on his head.

  A group of villagers, moving together in a way that reminded him too much of a wolf pack closing in on its prey, began walking up to greet them, several children running ahead to be the first. He wondered if they might be just that eager to finish them off for Theruses, but Rakas slowed his mount to a gradual stop. Dephithus saw no weapons on them, and their smiles looked friendly enough, even when they glanced his way. Still, he kept his sword hand close to the hilt so that he could try to make an escape if necessary.

  “Lord Rakas,” a gruff, though well-trimmed fellow hailed, bowing his head respectfully. “It has been some time since you have passed this way. We are honored by your visit. How might we serve you?”

  “A good meal for us and our mounts would be more than enough.” Though his manner was curt, the words Rakas spoke came out as more of a request than order or demand.

  “We would be honored to serve you, my lord. Dine and rest at your leisure.”

  Dephithus moved close to Rakas as the party escorted them into the village. “Is this normal?”

  Rakas nodded. “Theruses has always protected them from the daemons in return for their service whenever it is needed.”

  In front of the inn, their horses were taken and they were escorted inside. Dephithus was reluctant to leave Hydra in their hands, but Rakas assured him the animal would be well cared for. There was no indication that they suspected anything amiss and Hydra was more than willing to go with them, so Dephithus opted to trust the stallion. The inn was more of a town gathering place, providing an area to relax together or hold meetings. Every available body within the inn catered to them, seeing that they had sufficient food and drink and providing pleasant music to dine by.

  It was so intoxicating to be treated like royalty again that Dephithus longed for more time. Still, knowing that Amahna had seen them increased the already powerful need for urgency. Wasting time here might give Amahna the chance to reach the cave before them and warn Theruses, assuming she had not stayed back with the daemon army. After they had eaten and relaxed for a moment at the table Rakas reclined back and glanced at Dephithus with an oddly content expression.

  “Shall we move on then?”

  Dephithus hesitated. More powerful than his apprehension at facing this Theruses was his nauseating dread at the idea of facing Myara after the things he had done. “Aren’t you in the least bit nervous?”

  Rakas shook his head. “Regardless of what happens in the caves, this will probably be the only chance I get to make up for some of the wrong I inflicted upon you.”

  The reminder was like a hot iron under his feet. Scowling, Dephithus snapped to his feet and made for the door, rising so fast he startled one of the boys that had been attending them.

  The boy bowed down to Rakas. “Have we done badly, my lord?”

  Dephithus cringed at the dread in the boy’s voice.

  “No,” Rakas reached out and ruffled the boy’s hair, earning a joyous smile. “You have done very well; we are just in a hurry.”

  Dephithus shoved the door open. It irritated him that Rakas had the audacity to act like a decent human. That rage dissolved when he came upon the two young girls that were already bringing their horses around, not only rested, but also well groomed. Rakas stepped past him and thanked the young girls as he took the offered reins. Dephithus, too confused by his fast swinging emotions to say anything and spurred on by the fading light of dusk, took his reins and mounted up in silence. Rakas mounted up as well and they turned westward toward the cave.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  Since the creation of the web, only two dragons had ever broken from it. It was ironic that both were of the original sixteen. The first web breaking had occurred over a century ago.

  Theruses, the Death Dragon, had used the power of the web and the daenox to break loose and, in using powers that were more or less permitted to him, he guaranteed himself the independence to roam free of the oversight of the council of dragons, at least until he was imprisoned with the daenox years later. Much more recently Vanuthan, the Mother Dragon and a dear companion of his, had committed a dreadful offense by using the natural powers to break free of the web. In using that power, she cursed herself to live out her life in whatever prison she had chosen.

  Siniva, the Fire Dragon, was not one of the original sixteen—currently fourteen—dragons, and the web vexed him in many ways. Being born into the web, he had not been given the choice that the original sixteen dragons had been given, though none of those had turned down the opportunity to be a part of it. He did not have the knowledge or the daring to use the daenox in conjunction with the power of the dragons to free himself, and he was not willing to accept the imprisonment Vanuthan now suffered. Even if he could be free, Siniva was not certain that he would give up the combined power and security of the dragon web. Such were the things he pondered while mourning the loss of Vanuthan and waiting to see if the second dragon-child would escape from the cave and free them.

  The web was meant to be a source of sanctuary and assistance so that no dragon would ever be left needing. It gave them the ability to give power to one another and to call upon each other for assistance regardless of distance. It also allowed the original council of dragons to keep watch over the others.

  For more than a century, the web’s power had been limited by their imprisonment, but they needed little protection as long as they were trapped in stone. The most overpowering complaint he had with the web was the extra privilege its creators allowed themselves. The original sixteen were the only ones allowed to completely block out their connection with the other dragons in order to hold private council and other such nonsense. Any dragons could hold private conversations over the web, but their emotions were always common knowledge for whoever might be paying attention. The original dragons were also permitted to make crucial decisions without first consulting the rest of the web. The decision to place the power of the dragons within the child Dephithus and his eventual offspring had been one of these decisions, but Siniva had known about it before hand because Vanuthan kept very few secrets from him.

  Nearly two days ago, the remaining original fourteen dragons had closed themselves off from the rest of the web. Siniva worried over what absurd ideas they were considering this time. They had only recently
given up trying to connect the web to Vanuthan and use that connection to pull in more power through her. The idea was sound enough if one ignored the fact that she had used a forbidden power to escape the web. Campaigns such as that were what had convinced Siniva that intelligence was passed on to each new generation, leaving the original ones with something of a dearth in that area. If the web-builders would come out of their council he could tell them that the first dragon-child, Dephithus, had only just passed through Kithin.

  The constant presence of the web faded away and the fourteen remaining web-builders became the only dragons he could sense.

  Dread folded Siniva in an unwelcome embrace.

  Whatever scheme they were hatching, he was being drawn involuntarily into it.

  “Siniva, Fire Dragon of the web.”

  Despite the careful guard the elder dragons kept on their emotions, Siniva could sense the tension in the fourteen like a faint hum. He could also feel that familiar and less concealed sensation of being looked down upon.

  If only once he could get away with snubbing them and not suffer for it.

  “R’Gos, River Dragon of the web-builders,” he greeted in turn. “I sense some dire purpose to this meeting that you have drawn me into.”

  Dire purpose indeed. Undoubtedly, they had another fool idea and he was unfortunate enough to be part of it this time.

  “Have you no respect for the elders?” Colvan, the Storm Dragon, hissed in his mind. “R’Gos, I think we err in using him.”

  Using?

  That word brought Siniva no comfort. Still, he waited with forced patience to hear the web-builders out, reminding himself that they could sense his emotions all too easily.

  “We have no other options,” R’Gos stated. “Siniva, you must break from the web and go after the dragon-child. We can wait no longer, and Theruses is too dangerous with her in his clutches.”

  The words were spoken as if R’Gos truly expected him to jump up and go to it right now. Siniva was appalled, and he knew they could feel it. “Dephithus has only just passed through Kithin on his way to the cave. He will save his child.”

  This statement was met with surprise, but it won Siniva no escape. “You know we cannot trust him. The daemon-seed is still in him. It must be you.”

  Frustration swelled in Siniva. Did he really have to explain to them why this was not possible? Were they not supposed to be the wise elders? “There is no way for me to break the web. I haven’t the knowledge and you know I can’t access the kind of power needed to do so.”

  The brief, emotionless silence that followed filled Siniva with a surge of misgiving that would have made his physical body shiver if he were not stone.

  “As soon as the people of Kithin go to sleep you will use the power of the web to set the village on fire. Fire is your skill, so you should not need to use much. Then you can use the natural powers of their fear and death to break from the web. You must do this and go free the dragon-child.”

  A hollow began growing in his mental awareness of himself, as though just the knowledge of what they wanted him to do was changing him. “The people of Kithin deserve better.”

  “They serve the daenox.”

  “Because of proximity.” He could feel their patience wearing thin, so he changed tactics, appealing to their compassion as fellow dragons yearning to go free. “If I do this, then I will be made a prisoner while the rest of you go free.”

  “No. If you turn yourself mostly human as we did often before we were imprisoned you will still be free to roam the land.”

  Siniva directed a mental scowl at Rythis, the Song Dragon, for her words. “Yes, I will be free, trapped forever in a human form.” His growl was meant for all of them.

  “We will focus on trying to restore you once we are free,” R’Gos assured him. “For now, there is no other way. You must do this for the good of all the dragons.”

  He did not need to ask why they chose him. Like the people of Kithin, he was doomed by his proximity to the caves. “I feel you give me no choice. I will go.”

  “Good. The power of the web is open to you. Use it wisely.”

  The web-builders dropped the block that had kept the rest of the web out of their conversation and their overpowering presence receded along with a fading sense of satisfaction. It was a satisfaction that Siniva did not share. Concern washed towards him from several areas of the web where other dragons could undoubtedly sense the mixture of anger, fear, and resignation that filled him. He turned back their inquiries with an aggressive mental growl.

  The power of the web was open to him, R’Gos had said. Siniva could feel it. The unrestricted power that he now had the ability to take from all the dragons. It might have been a heady sensation under different circumstances. But the knowledge of what he was meant to do with it made it an unwelcome privilege.

  Did the web-builders always have this ability? If so, it explained their superior manner.

  Fire was his proficiency. With this much dragon power at his disposal, limited though it still was by their imprisonment, the village of Kithin was close enough that he could incinerate the buildings there in only a few moments. So many innocents would die. People that he had no desire to kill. Even though they served Theruses, they were a good people, making a best of the life they were born to.

  Siniva started to draw upon the power of the web, then he hesitated, his conscience getting in the way. The distracting emotions of the other dragons faded away again, and he could only sense Rythis, the Song Dragon. In his mind he could see the beautiful silvery-white dragon as she was in the flesh. Her presence was reluctant this time, rather than confident and overbearing as it had been only moments ago. It captured his attention.

  “I cannot do this to these people or to myself, Rythis.” The words came with no conviction. He knew the decision had already been made for him.

  “You must go. Thousands have suffered and died because of the daenox and its followers. That number will continue to rise if we cannot intervene. It is for the greater good that these people must die, and you, my son, will suffer more than they.”

  It crossed his mind to mention Dephithus again, but he had sensed the daemon-seed in the boy as well as the daenox in his companion. They could not trust Dephithus, and he was no match for Theruses. Still, Siniva did not see how the web-builders could expect him to face down Theruses either. The Death Dragon was several hundred years his elder.

  Rythis bathed him in comforting warmth, sympathy and compassion that had been missing when she faced him as one of the council. Siniva took what she gave and drew upon the power of the web again. This time he did not falter. Focusing on the nearby village whose graveyard he overlooked, he began to spread that power under the buildings.

  With the elements of fire clear in his mind, he forced that power up into the buildings and ignited it, leaving himself no time to think it over. The bitter shrieking of the natural power of life being forced out of the people in mass was excruciating in his mind. Already awash with a deep loathing for himself and the web-builders, Siniva took hold of that power and manipulated it to the results he desired.

  He did not realize he had been closing his eyes until the warm night air brushed against his eyelids. Opening them Siniva, scanned his surroundings with catlike eyes that would be the same fire-bronze color as his scales were in dragon form. Red hair, intermixed with highlights of bronze, was blown into his face by a strong smoky wind full of the smell of burning flesh and wood. Tempering the sudden wave of nausea by focusing on his rage, Siniva began to walk down the hill on human feet. He touched his fingertips to the scales reaching out along his cheekbones and his jaw line, wishing they covered all of him as he scowled at the world around him.

  Even before he got to where he could see the village, he could see tendrils of flame leaping up against the tinted sky. With the light of the fire reflecting off the rising smoke, the sky took on a blood red cast. He could not bear to think of what he had done, but when he rounded th
e bend he could no longer hold back the torment of it. The village of Kithin was a massive ball of fire. With heat from the towering flames making his human skin tighten, Siniva walked down the hill into the village.

  To drive home that he had done this and there was no turning back, he forced himself to walk down the main street rather than skirting around the village. Almost instantly his nude, muscular body was covered in a sheen of sweat from the scalding heat of the fire. The buildings were becoming skeletons as the fire ate away at everything it touched. Most of the rooftops had already caved in, vanishing into the intense raging flames below. Here and there, toward the outer reaches of the village, the consumption of the homes had been a little less than the instant incineration towards the center of the power focus. A burning body hung partway out one window and another failed escape attempt lay burning in a doorway.

  Siniva had seen these people many times. Against the traditions of their land and heritage, these people did not ignore their dead once they were buried. Like most, they did hold a death celebration, but they held it in the graveyard. They came often and read stories and sung ballads over the graves because they believed it would help the dead resist the daenox powers that resided so near. Siniva had enjoyed those stories and ballads from his stone prison. This was a vile way to repay them for the only reprieve he had from the dragon web for so many years.

  Before he was fully out of the village, he stopped and turned back, tears running down his cheeks and sweat itching as it ran over the mixture of scales and skin that made him not quite human and not quite dragon. Finding it hard to simply turn away, he stood there, not really caring that he had a purpose. Then the sound of bitter weeping tugged at his awareness. Peering into the shadows cast by towering flames he noticed a burly shepherd kneeling on the ground hunched over with misery. The shepherd, obviously a night watchman that Siniva had forgotten to consider in his decimation of the village, noticed him at the same time. Looking up with eyes that were beyond surprise and beyond accusation he reached one large hand out to the Fire Dragon.