The twin moons, Sara and Tira, finally rose in the night sky, and their illumination gave great hope to the fleeing group. It became somewhat easier to see, and the farther west they traveled the less soggy and dangerous the ground became.
After many hours of travel, several people began to collapse, and they were picked up and either dragged or assisted in walking by those with greater constitutions. Soon, however, there was strife within the group.
“We can’t run all the way back to Tannis!” Nerus complained, voicing the concerns of most of the servants and several of the soldiers.
“Do we have a choice?” asked one of the squad commanders as he leaned on his spear, breathing heavily.
“Commander Fulbert!” cried one of the man’s servants, a lady by the name of Alice. The commander had fallen on the ground, barely breathing. His face was pale, and it made him look almost angelic as he clutched at his sword, red-stained and dented plate armor gleaming in the moonlight. The entire picture seemed too surreal for Olivia, but she understood it was really happening.
“Bring me every water flask now!” Olivia commanded.
Several people looked at her before Felix spoke. “You heard her—do it now!”
Soon only five flasks were found amongst the entire group; most of them were brought along only because they were slung over various individuals when the fracas started. Felix gathered them together, and they all hung around his powerful arm that he held outstretched towards Olivia.
Having sheathed her sword, she grabbed the pendant around her neck yet again and recited the prayer of cleansing and the mantra for strength per her training as an acolyte. She reached out and touched each flask with her right hand, which started to glow brightly with a pure white light.
“Agon protect me, and Akun pass me!” replied Pascal, the scout who had accompanied Felix that evening, using the old saying of lore.
Each bag glowed mildly. “Drink, everyone. We depart in five minutes,” Olivia said.
No one objected, and Felix handed out the flasks, drinking a sip from the last one he held, and then passing it onto another. Olivia knelt beside the commander and put her hand on his forehead, continuing to chant but now reciting the prayer of healing. Soon color was restored to the commander’s face, and his eyes fluttered open. “Give him something to drink,” Olivia said.
Nerus took another long swig of water and knelt opposite of Olivia, urging his leader to drink. Half the water dribbled down his chin and onto his neck, but enough got in for Fulbert to stir.
The commander motioned with his free hand, still clutching his sword with his other, and both Alice and Nerus helped him to stand. He stood there for a moment and then looked at Olivia with eyes now wide open. “I saw the black hand of Akun reach for me in death, and then I saw a white light behind me. I turned and faced the light to see only a simple hand. I took the hand and was pulled from Father Death. When I awoke, I saw you! Agon praise the hand!” he said, and he slowly knelt, using his sword as a crutch and bowed to Olivia.
Slowly every other survivor took a knee and bowed to Hand of Astor Olivia Moross.
That was when Sivern attacked. He had witnessed the light of Astor as it repulsed and turned his undead slaves, and the wyvern drone felt hate, fury, anger, and, yes, even fear. He loathed the human who dared to oppose him and his queen. His hate outweighed any fear that he felt, and so determinedly he flew after the group alone, looking for an opening. Now he had one.
With the entire group focused on some foolish ritual in the middle of the wild that Sivern did not understand, he allowed his wings to fold in ever so slightly and he dove from where he glided above. He couldn’t miss her. She glowed a bright white, with rays of light coming from her body, and as he flew closer, the light hurt his eyes.
“Watch out!” Felix cried, trying to stand and push Olivia out of the way. Olivia turned just in time to see a huge beast the size of two large horses glide quickly from the darkness above as its dagger-like claws struck her in the chest, knocking her to the ground.
She brought her free arm up just in time to prevent the beast from using its razor-sharp teeth to sever her neck. She felt intense pain as its jaws clamped down on the armored part of her left elbow, but the bones there did not break.
She took a swing with her sword and hit only a glancing blow. The beast was a mottled dark grey in color, with wings outstretched still from its glide. Its eyes glowed a bright red, putting off their own light from deep-set eye sockets. Drool spilled from its jaws, and it shook Olivia’s arm violently, trying to break it, but worst of all was its stinger tail, which struck once and then twice at her torso, trying to pierce her and inject its venom.
Her armor held, and the blows knocked the wind from her. Already Felix and several soldiers started to attack the beast with sword and spear as it now flapped its wings furiously to maintain its balance. Its talons gripped Olivia tightly around her torso as it tried to crush her to death.
Finally, fearing for its life as a spear thrust pierced its wing for a third time, the beast plunged its stinger into Olivia’s upper thigh and injected the toxic mix from its deadly gland.
With one final effort Olivia struck the beast across its snout, drawing icky black blood. It released her and flew off into the night.
“Help her!” she heard Commander Fulbert yell.
She closed her eyes and felt the venom coursing through her body. She suddenly felt hot, as if she had a high temperature, and she started to lose feeling in her arms and legs. She made one last heroic attempt to open her eyes, and for a brief second she saw Felix’s face looking at her. She could not understand why he looked so sad, and then blackness took her.
Chapter 8
Skullduggery
Qui Amatha was furious. First the attack on her abode, which resulted in her having to defend her territory and the grievous injuries inflicted upon her, and now a second attack on her minions that she had commanded along with yet more injuries inflicted, this time upon her drone and servant.
Sivern had returned two days later to report the events of the nights before. Her minions had followed the group until they left her domain, and they stood guard silently at the edge of her territory, waiting for her command.
“I will burn their eyes out. I will melt their bones!” Qui Amatha roared as she spread her wings and gently stood, testing her injured foot.
Sivern didn’t move. “A most fitting end for the interlopers,” he said.
Qui Amatha settled down, feeling more than upset. She had no news from the Mother of all Dragons and felt that her own existence was threatened, not only physically but also by the lack of information that was not being shared with her. “I need reports!” she said, looking at Sivern with a gleam in her eye.
“I’ve shared everything with you in exquisite detail, Lady of Black. What more can I say?” Sivern hissed.
“Not about my realm, but from the High Queen. Why are we at war? It appears that this is not limited to just the Kesh. Why have the sheep of Agon turned against their masters?” Qui Amatha asked rhetorically.
“Your orders, Courtesan of Calamity,” he said flatteringly.
“You will return to the High Lair and seek understanding from she who rules. But before you do, I want to know more. Tell me about this light-wielding human,” she commanded as Sivern the drone sat silently with his long neck bowed before her and his tail immobile. The black and red blood on his scales had dried, and his wounds had also stopped bleeding, but it was obvious he had been hurt, though not seriously.
Sivern raised his head and looked upon her neck, not yet ready to face her gaze equally. “She . . . shone as if her body itself was as bright as the sun, but the light was brighter and whiter, not the offensive yellow hue of our own day.”
Dragons and their kind did not fear daylight, but most preferred night, especially the drones. Amatha understood that her kind especially, those of the black, despaired of the light of day as it gave strength to their enemies
and sapped their own strength equally. “She is dead, then?”
The drone’s tail twitched ever so slightly, as if remembering its own part in the deadly battle. “She was given the elixir of death,” he said, referring to the venom in his stinger. “I don’t see how she could survive.”
“I felt the pain of the light in my domain even from here,” Amatha said, relaxing a bit at the news. “The humans in these parts have become entirely too arrogant.”
“You have new orders, Queen of Darkness?” Sivern hissed.
“New plans, yes, Sivern.” He was pleasantly surprised that she referred to him by name and not just as “drone” or “slave.” “I will take the matter up personally and soften their lair for you to attack. You will lead the Army of Darkness again to finish them once and for all.”
“They took many of our servants, Mistress of Death.” Sivern finally looked her in the eye. She returned his own gaze with intense malevolence, and Sivern felt true fear yet again in his miserable existence.
“And what of their dead? Where do they lie, or have they been carried off back to their lair?” Amatha asked.
“No, my lady, they fell and remained in your realm. The humans had no time to gather their dead,” Sivern replied.
Amatha’s lip curled back in a cruel imitation of a grin that Sivern found more than a little unnerving. “Good, this is most fortunate for us and very ironic for the humans. Tonight at dusk you will take me to the battle ground and show me their dead. Then they will know true fear.”
Sivern bowed again, and she released his gaze, which he knew would be forcibly held once he looked at her. You didn’t look a dragon in the eye so easily. Sivern shivered at the thought of what his cruel mistress would do.
Olivia’s eyes fluttered, and she saw the sun shining overhead brightly and heard birds singing melodious songs around her. She found herself lying on a slab of pure granite, and she expected the rock to feel cold to her touch, but it was comfortably warmed by the rays of the sun.
She sat up and looked around. She was in the middle of a beautiful meadow. The grass was a lush green, shin high, punctuated by golden sunflowers spotting the entire area. A forest surrounded the clearing, and the sky was mostly clear, with just a few lovely white billowy clouds moving across it on a gentle breeze. She stood and walked around, feeling the cool grasses beneath her bare feet.
“Do you like my realm, child?”
Olivia jumped and looked around to see Arabella walking barefoot from the edge of the forest. She was more than thirty yards away, but she could hear her clearly.
“Excuse me, Mother, but I didn’t know you were here. You startled me,” Olivia said, looking around but not recognizing the area. “I thought you had returned to Utandra?”
Arabella laughed, a soft laugh that filled Olivia with a sense of joy and happiness. “You amaze me, child, even after the many years of watching you, I find myself still surprised by your delightful soul.”
“Soul?” Olivia asked.
“You are still innocent in a world of guilt and sin. I find that innocence refreshing, child. That part of your character, and that part of your innocence, I refer to as your soul,” Arabella said, arriving and standing next to Olivia, looking her up and down, and then smiling with her arms clasped in front of her at her waist.
“Where are my companions? I last remember fighting with them in Kero . . . Are they alright?” Olivia asked.
“Your companions are fine. They brought you to me and are waiting for you outside of my realm,” Arabella responded.
“Where exactly is your realm, my lady?” Olivia asked, with more formality.
“It is here in Agon. It is a place of peace, goodness, hope and healing for those who serve Astor. Do you like it?”
“Yes, it’s beautiful, though the weather is quite mild. I would have expected it to be hotter and more humid if we were anywhere close to my home,” Olivia said.
“What makes you think we are close to Ulatha?”
Olivia froze for a moment and looked at Arabella with suspicion and a tinge of fear. “I . . . is Ulatha . . .”
“Now, child, don’t go bringing those bad thoughts here. My realm is pure and can be contaminated only from outside. I see your fear, I feel your doubts, I hear your disbelief, but I can only show you the path to enlightenment. You must choose to accept that which is, and fear not that which may be.”
Olivia allowed the words to sink in before responding, “I am sorry if I have acted unacceptably in your service, Mother of Astor, but I am only a newly initiated hand and my training and experience are lacking.” She bowed her head in deference.
“The political in you shows, child. You have much of your father in you. When in doubt, take the safest course of action. You have no need of such formalities with me here. Now sit for a moment.” Arabella motioned to the slab where Olivia had awakened, and she took a seat.
Arabella sat next to her. “Tell me, what do you remember about your mother?”
Olivia thought for a moment and heard the birds singing in the background. A slight breeze rustled the bushes near the trees, and the leaves rubbed against one another, making a soothing noise. Olivia closed her eyes. “I was only seven when she died. I can remember her looking at me at the celebration of Ulatha on a midsummer’s eve. I was wearing a soft dress similar to hers. She held my hand and walked with me so we could attend the festival together. We were sitting on a large table away from the others. She laughed and she talked and she stroked my hair. She loved me—yes, I can remember it in her eyes.” Olivia paused, remembering something clearly now. “She had a diamond pendant, this diamond pendant!” Olivia opened her eyes in shock, grasping the diamond in her left hand.
Arabella looked at her and took Olivia’s right hand in her own. “Are you sure it’s the same pendant?”
“Well, I can’t know for sure, but it feels like they are one and the same. There is something familiar about this,” Olivia said.
“Then you must trust your feelings, child,” Arabella said.
“But you gave me this jewelry at the temple not more than three days ago. How could she have had it if you gave it to me? Did my mother give you this?”
Arabella’s smile faded. “She did . . . just before she died.”
“You knew my mother?” Olivia asked.
“I knew her well, knew her since she was born until the time that she was betrayed and murdered,” Arabella said.
“That’s not true!” Olivia protested. “My mother died giving birth to my stillborn sister! I remember the burial. I remember her on her deathbed.”
Arabella sighed. “All you remember, and indeed were told about her death, are lies, child.”
Olivia felt herself wanting to cry. Strong emotions roiled over her, crashing into her psyche in waves. “You must tell me everything, please!”
Arabella gripped Olivia’s hand tighter in both of hers. “I can only tell you that your mother was an Eye of Astor. She watched and observed all that Astor finds worthy. She was a guardian of virtue and protector of those who could not defend themselves. The rest—well, the rest you must learn for yourself.”
“Why has my father, or even Master Markus, not mentioned this to me before?” Olivia asked, suspicion growing within her again.
“Now, child . . . Markus is a good man, but he is blind and ignores me. He thinks too much with his head and doesn’t feel enough with his heart. Both the master and your father, Julian, are blinded by secular matters that do not serve the Mother. Do you understand me?”
“Well, not completely, my lady, but I understand enough now to know that many of the things I thought were true may be different.”
“Wisdom always grows slowly and must be cultured with experience and time. You will do well, Olivia, Hand of Astor. It is time now for you to return to your companions. They are waiting for you.”
“Wait, what do you mean? Will you not tell me what you mean by saying my mother was murdered?” Olivia pleaded, but sh
e felt herself getting tired.
Arabella stood and gently lowered Olivia’s back onto the slab, picking up her legs and placing them lengthwise as well. “You must seek the answers yourself, child, and you must do so without fear and without prejudice, for you may not like the answers you find.” Arabella grabbed both of Olivia’s hands and wrapped them around the pendant, and then placed her right hand on Olivia’s forehead.
“Tell me . . .” Olivia said as her eyes closed and she felt sleepy.
“Remember, child, no fear. Fear not the truth. Fear not the enemy. Astor will be with you when you are worthy.”
Olivia faded, and the light shining through her eyelids dimmed. She felt her legs grow heavy, the diamond pendant seemed to pulse as her muscles relaxed, and she started to fade into unconsciousness, hearing Arabella’s words for the last time.
“Remember, child, no fear.”
Then Olivia remembered no more.
Duke Uthor paced from window to window, pausing to look over Ulan Utandra, the capital city of his realm of Ulatha. The news had not been good. Duke Rayner, of the northern border realm, had reported that three of his prefects had fallen in his border regions to the north. Last word was that a large army of Balarian and Kesh troops was marching from Ulthor’s east towards the northern realm’s capital to shore it up. Rigal, or Ice Hold, as his northern brothers like to call it, had never fallen before, but that claim was no longer a strong one in the duke’s opinion.
Barbarians roamed the vast northern steppes and tundra, and had raided occasionally to their south in various strengths and at various times, but this was different. It seemed from the reports that he had read that the northern barbarians were unified, and led with one will and purpose, which made them more than dangerous.
The Black Dragon: A Claire-Agon Dragon Book (Dragon Series 1) Page 9
