The Drinnglennin Chronicles Omnibus

by K. C. Julius

  And then she saw them, soaring high overhead—two splendid dragons, each with a grey-clad rider astride its back.

  * * *

  Of course, Whit claimed all the credit.

  “I never doubted it would work!” he bragged, and Halla had to grit her teeth to keep from shouting, Except when you did!

  Shielding her eyes, she followed the dragons’ flight as they descended and skimmed to a stop in the shallows before them.

  That a transformation had occurred was evident. The dragons’ scales shimmered with unworldly light, and Leif and Maura were both aglow with their success. They showed no trace of the trauma they had surely experienced during the long moments of their fall.

  Of course, they wouldn’t, thought Halla, not now that they’re dragonfast.

  Maura and Leif urged the dragons forward until their great clawed feet found purchase below the surface and they lumbered to shore.

  Rhiandra was the first to speak. “We are pleased,” the bluewing said, resting her golden eyes on Whit. “It is fortunate that your knowledge of dragons, if not of design, is sound.”

  A slight frown lined Whit’s brow, but he had the sense to offer the dragon a polite bow.

  “You must have known that dragons love to rescue those in danger,” said Leif, sliding off the bluewing as though he’d been flying on dragons for years.

  Halla suspected that Whit hadn’t known this at all, but she doubted he’d ever admit it.

  “I confess,” said Ilyria, “that we misjudged you, wizard. We feared treachery, but you refrained from using magic. It is well that you did, for that would have spelled disaster.”

  “But let us give the most credit where it is due,” said Rhiandra. “It was the daring of our dragonfast that earned them their bindings. I confess, I had not foreseen such bravery!”

  Leif and Maura waded ashore and began to shrug off their flight suits. “We’re very grateful to you both, Halla and Whit,” said Leif.

  Halla knew he had just included her to be polite; she hadn’t done anything except try to stop them from following her cousin’s advice. Still, she was so happy to see them both alive that she found herself grinning from ear to ear.

  “And now we have a gift for you.” Maura swept her hand toward the dragons. “With the gracious permission of Ilyria and Rhiandra, we’d like you to come fly with us. That is, if you’d like to.”

  Halla’s heart leapt like a fish in her chest. “Yes,” she said at once. “I would!”

  “And you with me, Whit?” Leif looked expectantly at her cousin.

  “Uh… I think not,” said Whit, bending down to collect the discarded silks. “Someone has to stay with the elks. You know… in case they wander off.”

  Halla couldn’t suppress a laugh at his timidity as she waded into the lake. Once she’d clambered up behind Maura on Ilyria’s back, she looked back on shore and saw his cheeks had flamed red.

  “Wrap your arms around my waist,” Maura instructed.

  Halla did as she was told. From this perch, she was more than twice as high as when she was riding Rowlan.

  The dragon unfurled her wings, and Halla’s heart swelled as the great ridged sails beat the air slowly, without apparent effect. But then the creature lurched forward for a few awkward steps and flung herself out across the water. Halla felt her stomach drop to her toes as the great beast winged out over the water and rose into the sky.

  The speed was beyond anything Halla had imagined, and the air rushing against her took her breath with it. She laughed in delight, too exhilarated to be frightened, as they spiraled into the spume of a tumbling waterfall and wheeled upward once more. They rose until Mithralyn’s rivers and rills became silver ribbons far below, wending their way between broad expanses of forested land.

  Halla’s blood sang in her veins. She had never felt more alive.

  As they soared high above Glieria, she saw the lands below unfurling like a living map—the Erolin Sea skirting the arching coastline of Fairendell to the east, where tiny peaks of waves flecked the cyan water, the distant foothills of Branley Tor crouched to the north, and beyond them the Mynnyd Mountains, the white peak of Amueke crowning the horizon. Far to the south, the dark forests of Nelvorboth shadowed the land, and closer in, a thick layer of low mist encircled the elven realm.

  Leif and Rhiandra flew beside them, the elven boy’s hand raised in a jaunty salute. Gone was the terror-stricken lad of a few hours ago, and in his place was a confident, jubilant dragon-rider. Together the two dragons dipped and wove, revealing what a great advantage their maneuverability would offer in battle. Halla imagined herself on her own dragon, wielding her broadsword as she plowed through ranks of Helgrins, leading the High King’s army to victory against their age-old enemies.

  “Hold tight!” called Maura, snapping Halla out of her daydreams of glory.

  The dragoness had entered into a spin and was dropping like a giant boulder toward the water. Halla forced herself to keep her eyes open, and just before plunging into the lake’s depths, Ilyria smoothly leveled out and glided to a landing with a great spraying wake.

  Whit was standing meekly by the elks, and Halla felt a smug satisfaction that she’d dared to do something her bookish cousin lacked the courage to even try. For a moment, she almost pitied him for his lack of spirit.

  But as she slid from Ilyria’s back, there was no denying that her original prick of envy over the dragons’ choices had blossomed into a fierce longing. Now, and forevermore, she would yearn for yet one more thing she had no hope of obtaining.

  Chapter 36

  Borne

  Drinnkastel

  Late Wintertide

  Most Gracious Lord Heptorious,

  I pray this letter finds you in better health than when last we parted. As requested, I’ll attempt to provide a detailed catalogue of our circumstances and activities since you returned home to Windend from the High King’s court a fortnight ago.

  Drinnkastel continues to entertain us, and Cole begs me to mention her fair maidens as highly rated among its charms. (Here you may exclaim in appreciation of the formal style of my writing, with which our tutor, Master Drellin, took such pains!)

  Today all those who intend to compete in the Twyrn accompanied the High King in his first procession of the new year. Our hearts were warmed as his jubilant subjects rejoiced upon seeing him, for he had not been in public since the ceremony that included your investiture as Earl.

  All the bells of the city saluted His Majesty, and once we arrived at the Grand Square, King Urlion offered a brief but gracious welcome to his gathered landsmen. He then retired to a carriage, and I fear it was because the short ride on horseback had consumed his strength.

  We continue to reside with Sir Jurrien, who is as accommodating as one could wish a host to be. This good knight will surely be a serious contender for prizes in the upcoming tourney, for he stands, as you well know, literally head and shoulders above all others. His lady wife, Sarae, is also most genial.

  The only challenge to our accommodations has been their two tyrannical daughters, who have required Cole and me to swear our undying love to them. Stepha, the elder by several heartbeats, has threatened us with a show of her displeasure should we refuse, and so bent us to her iron will. Fortunately, since the girls are not yet six years of age, it’s likely they’ll set their sights on other beaux long before they reach marriageable age, deeming us by then too old and balding.

  Cole swears he’ll never lose his hair, and it’s true he’s taking exceedingly good care of it, keeping it pomaded and curled, as is the fashion among the flower of Urlion’s young lords. I’d like to say that he applies the same diligence to his studies, but alas, I cannot report an untruth to your lordship. Master Aldred is a most engaging tutor, but Cole is still more drawn to the tilting yard than to his tomes. He says to tell you I’m studying enough for bo
th of us, even though I’ve assured him you won’t agree.

  We have benefitted from rigorous daily training in preparation for the Twyrn. The competition is friendly at present, and we’ve made many new acquaintances among our fellow knights, including Yintor Howhell of Karan-Rhad and Gale of Langmerdor, whose fathers served with you.

  Cole is most often to be found in the company of Roth of Nelvorboth, recently returned from Albrenia and a great favorite among the young knights. It’s as a result of this friendship that Cole has developed a passion for scent, and now a perfumed cloud hovers ever round him. Alas, Magnus has taken to fleeing whatever room he enters.

  The young lord of Nelvorboth calls here regularly, contributing even more fragrance to our already redolent rooms. Lord Roth is as meticulous with his grooming as he is lethal with his sword, and I imagine his fine physique and polished manners attract many maidens, which is perhaps the true reason your son is so often in his company.

  Overall, we’re leading a life balanced in work and leisure, as I believe you would have us do.

  As yet, I’ve learned nothing more regarding the disappearance of Maura Trok. Pray send me word if any news of her should reach you?

  We eagerly await your return for the tourney. Until then, your son and heir sends his deepest affection and respect, as do I.

  Your grateful and faithful ward,

  Borne

  Chapter 37

  Maura

  One week later, Master Morgan returned to Mithralyn and summoned them to an alcove in the garden. It was a dark and stormy night and the continuous flashes of lightning made the surrounding forest look spectral and strange.

  “As soon as I heard that the bindings had been successful, I hastened back,” the wizard explained, releasing Maura from his embrace. “Here, let me have a good look at you. Yes, I see that being dragonfast quite agrees with you!” He turned and beamed at Leif, Halla and Whit, who had come to the garden with her as soon as they’d heard of the wizard’s reappearance.

  There was a crashing boom of thunder, and Morgan waited until its reverberations rolled into the distance before continuing to speak. When he did, Maura realized the wizard had planned all along another sort of binding for the four of them.

  “The future of Drinnglennin may hinge on your willingness to do what I am about to ask of you.” He looked from one of them to the next. “It will require your solemn word.” He allowed a small silence to grow, as if to set the tone for the gravity of his request. “I would hear your oaths to stand together to defend, at all costs, the next lawful ruler of Drinnglennin. There is no greater service you can offer to the realm.”

  No one made a sound, and Maura felt her own pulse quicken.

  “There is, of course,” the wizard reminded them, “always the chance that the next sovereign to sit on the High Throne could be one of you. Whoever it is will require your unconditional support. However, be forewarned. You must consider carefully what vowing to dedicate your life to this purpose will entail. Once you take the oath, I am equally bound to hold you to it.”

  “You mean Leif and I still have a choice?” said Maura. “Even though we’re dragonfast?”

  “Of course you do.”

  “And after that, we’re just to be sent home?” said Whit. He sounded surprised.

  At least he still has a home to return to, thought Maura.

  The wizard shook his head. “Regardless of what you decide, you’ll all need to stay here until after the Twyrn. Once King Urlion has declared his heir, it should be safe for you to leave Mithralyn.”

  Whit’s expression darkened. “But I came to Mithralyn to learn magic, not to become embroiled in a struggle for the High King’s throne!” He turned to the others. “Surely you don’t want to get mixed up in that?”

  There came another thunderous rumble and a queer memory surfaced in Maura’s mind of the Lurker lying helpless in the claws of his addiction, panting and writhing in the straw. She’d been chosen for, and had accepted, a dragonfast destiny. And what was its ultimate purpose, if not to help others who could not help themselves? Surely, if she could aid the next High King or Queen in preventing civil war, in protecting the innocent—and if she could influence him or her to ensure that dragons would be protected in return—she would be honoring this charge.

  She rose to her feet. “I am ready to take the oath.”

  Leif leapt lightly up beside her. “And I as well,” he declared stoutly.

  That left Halla. The flickering light from the storm illuminated her determined expression, and the set of her shoulders foretold her answer.

  Whit shook his head in disbelief. “You can count me out,” he said flatly. “My goal is to learn wizardry, not war or politics.” He gave the wizard a pointed look, and it was clear that he was still angry Master Morgan hadn’t been guiding his magical instruction. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.” He stalked off, hunching his shoulders against the pelting rain.

  His departure didn’t seem to faze Halla. “If you’d asked me a few days ago,” she said, “I’d have refused. But I’ve come to believe my fate is somehow linked with all of yours.” She grinned over at Maura and Leif. “I’ve always longed to live a life I’d relish retelling when I’m old. The question is,” she added, turning to the wizard, “if I’ll survive to do so.”

  Master Morgan spread his hands before him. “I cannot promise you anything.”

  “I understand.” Halla threw her untidy braid over her shoulder. “I’ve made my own promise to myself—that I won’t be condemned to weaving tapestries of others’ exploits, to endless childbirth, or”—and here she threw a withering look in the direction that Whit had fled—“to a loveless marriage. I too shall swear your oath.”

  Something shifted on the wizard’s face, as though he’d laid down a burden long borne. “It is good,” he said, “to see the three of you united in this decision. Although you may not believe it now, the future of so much rests on your young shoulders. I’ll be there whenever possible to help you, but it’s from within yourselves, and through your friendship with each other, that you’ll draw the lion’s share of your strength.”

  “What about Whit, master?” said Leif.

  “Whit will choose the path for which he is best suited,” the wizard replied calmly. “I have faith that his intelligence and his true heart will guide him in this.” He nodded to himself as if to confirm his words. “Now, if you are ready, we shall proceed.”

  It was a simple enough pledge, except that when it was Maura’s turn to state her full name, she stumbled. “I, Maura…”

  “Your one good name is more than sufficient,” said the wizard, his grey eyes shining.

  Their united voices grew in strength as they repeated the words. The last of these echoed in Maura’s mind: … by all the gods, to aid and succor the next true heir to the High Throne, to serve the realm of Drinnglennin, in peace and in war, for all the days of my life.

  When it was done, the wizard said, “From this time forward, you are bound by your word, and shall direct your own destinies to the benefit of the realm.”

  “How do we do begin?” Halla asked.

  “Start by listening,” said the wizard. “Listening for that which has always been waiting within you to speak. Open yourselves to that toward which your heart yearns. You are dwelling in a paradise; pay attention to what Mithralyn has to offer: a rare glimpse of a world that could be your world, where all within it live in peace. For what is kindled here in this golden wood is hope. It’s up to you to discover how you will nourish this gift, now that you have begun your journeys anew.”

  Maura felt her heart quicken. “And if we fail?”

  Unexpectedly, a gentle smile played on the old man’s lips. “If I told you it is likely you will, would it keep you from trying?”

  Maura didn’t have to consider her answer. “No.”

  “I th
ought not. In daring to defy that which seems unconquerable… that is when we triumph. This, my friends, is a victory of the spirit.”

  * * *

  The dark clouds cleared as suddenly as they’d appeared, and they lingered on in the garden, talking with the wizard about all that had transpired in the previous weeks. Maura thought it was a shame that Whit was not with them, as he had played such an important role in their successful completion of their trial.

  When the stars had faded from the heavens, and dawn stained the sky, Master Morgan bid them farewell. “Even by elven standards, this has been a long night. Go now, and take your rest. I will not be here when you arise, but I shall return as soon as I can.”

  Trailing behind the others, Maura looked back to see the wizard draw out his pipe. The bittersweet scent of his tobacco followed her as she went to seek her bed.

  But sleep eluded her once she lay under the canopied bower in her chambers. Her emotions warred within her: regret for the family she’d lost, anger at her mother for making her life a lie, sorrow over Dal—and yet also, a blooming excitement when she thought of the unexpected future that had come into play.

  It was this that propelled her from her bed to witness the advent of the new day. She looked out on light flooding over the dew-speckled gardens, and the newly furling leaves of the trees beyond. Somewhere, an unseen minstrel fingered his lute, accompanying the river’s song as it tumbled over its stony bed. The air carried the promise of spring.

  Despite her sleepless night, she felt she was truly awake for the first time in her life.

  “No light doth shine in heaven’s skies

  As lambent as my lady’s eyes.”

  The couplet sprang unbidden to her mind, attended by an ache in the region of her heart. The last words Borne had spoken to her. She wondered once again if he had survived his wounds, and brought her hand slowly to her lips, remembering the warm press of his.