by A. R. Wilson
After a short detour to a line of outhouses a few dozen yards outside the village, Dellia finally knocked on a door. The single-level home sat silent for only a moment before a hunched dallest with a hooded cape answered.
“Ah, it is about time you came to see me.” The dallest’s eyes squinted against the evening sunlight. “Come in quickly before you draw a crowd.”
The inside of Arnya’s home reminded Tascana of the disarray Kidelar frequently had. Piles of books stood next to shelves filled with even more books. Racks of herbs, bottles, jars, and cooking utensils filled gaps between the maps and charts on the walls. A table off to one side held a cluster of cups, bowls, and plates.
“Come sit down and I will put some tea on.” The dallest hung a kettle on a hook and pivoted it into the fireplace to heat.
Three chairs sat tucked under the table against the wall, and Dellia picked the one in the middle. Tascana groaned inwardly. Why would that girl pick a seat that forced them to sit next to each other? Then again, it meant the dallest wouldn’t be able to sit next to Tascana. For a moment, neither thought appealed to her.
“So, Tascana, how long were you in Jerricoh’s keep?” Arnya glanced up from picking herbs out of a bowl.
“How do you know my name?”
“Ah, my dear child, you must have escaped within just a few days of being let out of the tower. All of The Master’s servants know of his plan to find you.”
Tascana took a step toward the door.
“Don’t stand there shaking like a leaf. Come sit down and ask me your questions.” Arnya sat at the table and crushed the herbs in a shallow bowl. “I will answer anything you wish.”
“You serve The Master. Why should I trust you?” She took another step back.
“I was his servant. Past tense. In this place, I am free from his control, thanks to the Soldiers of Basagic.”
“Who are they?”
“Spirits within the trees on the mountain. A deal struck with the Mind aspect of Fate grants us solace in the form of Tretchin Valley. As long as they stand, The Master cannot enter.”
“But you’re trapped here.”
Arnya paused, her face hardening as she looked up. “If you knew the strength of his arm, this place would comfort you. Tranquility, prosperity, freedom. These are things people fight great wars to obtain. They lay down their lives for it. They do not walk away from it because they prefer the view of a different landscape.”
Tascana shifted her weight to her other foot. Should she trust this creature? Could she? If only finding out the truth didn’t involve using magic.
“You are wise to be leery of using your magic.” Arnya went back to grinding the herbs.
“You read my mind?”
“Not exactly, but that is an answer for another time. You are correct in your assumption that Jerricoh tracks the use of your magic. Every time you use it, he can sense it and follow it to its source. The foundational elements used by The Master were recorded in scrolls and left for you to find. Once you opened them, it was only a matter of time before he sent that cursed horsk dragon to look for you.”
Biting her lip, trying to ignore the hot lump in her stomach, she joined the other two women at the table. “So Jerricoh is The Master?”
“Oh, no. Not by far. Jerricoh is little more than a tool who learned how to stay useful.”
“So why did he bring me here?”
“To aid in The Master’s plan to reunite with the Sword of Einiko.”
The kettle whistled. Dellia put out a hand to show she would tend to the tea.
“None of this makes any sense.” Tascana put her elbows on the table to brace her fingertips against her forehead. “A wizard I’ve never heard of put scrolls in the middle of a forest to trap me? How could he even know I would be the one to find them? It’s not like there’s anything special about me.”
“You are your father’s daughter. All your life you have sensed something different about him from the others in your land. Something only you see.”
“And how could you know this?”
“I was there the day The Master received the promise.”
Dellia poured hot water into three cups. In place of her former cheeriness, she moved somber hands around the table, dividing the herbs for the tea. It seemed this girl’s only moods were confidence and crushed.
“What was the promise?” Tascana took her cup and swirled the contents.
“Perhaps I should start at the beginning.” Arnya turned to the blond girl. “If you’re up for the story.”
Nodding, Dellia pulled her cup to her chest. “It has been a few years since we spoke of those days. I can hear it again.”
Arnya patted the girl’s hand before continuing.
“It used to rain a lot in our village. Sometimes every day. I once saw a triple-stacked-cascading rainbow after one storm. It was amazing.” The dallest paused to shake her head. “And then a halfling warlock came into our land and declared himself our lord. I was twenty-five years old the day my husband died in the Great War with The Master’s goblins. My mother and father died the following day, and then soon, my twin sons.
“The few hundred of us who survived the slaughter were rounded up and turned into this.” Arnya held out her arms then ran a hand along the side of her face. “He took our homes, our families, our land, and our humanity.
“After that, he brought us to his castle. Some were used for sport, others as slaves. His power told him I possessed an innate skill for magic. This gave me special treatment in the form of respect and adequate food, so I did as I was told. For many years I helped him find and perform the spells to invoke an audience with the Mind aspect of Fate. Every time She permitted him to speak, he asked to learn how to be fully united with his magic. And every time, She gave him a window into someone else’s life.
“Gradually, The Master put the pieces together. You were the final key. Tascana, daughter of Jurren, son of Raynen. That was the day he created the horsk dragon.” Arnya paused to take a sip. “I knew then my purpose was served, that he would be done with me. With all my people. I only had one chance to make a deal with the Mind aspect of Fate. She agreed to help us, and we received the promise of this valley.”
Tascana swirled her cup again. “How long ago was that?”
“Since we came to this valley? It has been 105 years.”
“Your people live that long?”
Arnya’s furry cheeks pushed into a partial grin. “When Fate granted us this valley, we stopped aging. Both child and adult alike. The only change we experienced was Dellia reverting back to human form when we entered this place.”
The blond girl shrugged at Tascana. “Like I said, you wouldn’t believe me if I told you how long I have been here.”
“How did you change back to a human?” Tascana put her cup down.
“I wish I knew.”
“What about my room? How did you make it look like the one I have back home?”
Arnya lifted a hand off her cup. “It was my idea. I saw your things so many times in the visions for The Master that I drew the details from memory. A little piece of home while you find your way with us.”
“How could you see my room if you’ve been here for 105 years?”
“The visions The Master received were of the future. Yours and your father’s. Once the path of destiny began for your father to be born, the promise of you finding the scrolls was sealed. In a way, I’ve known you since before your father took his first breath.”
“Oh.” Was that possible? “And only an oracle can grant me passage through the Soldiers of Basagic?”
Arnya stared at Tascana as though her question were absurd. “Don’t you realize why you need to stay here?”
Need to stay? Why would she need to stay? “I have no desire to live out an eternal youth in this valley.”
Leaning forward, Arnya pointed a clawed finger onto the table. “This is the only place The Master cannot find you. If you leave, he will hunt you down
and use you to fully unite with the power from the Lineage of Adjh.”
“The Lineage of what?”
She drew the single syllable out into two sounds. “Add-juh. Adjh was the first elf to receive power beyond what had been naturally gifted to his race. The Master knows you are descendant from this line and intends to join with that power through you.”
“And if I refuse?”
The dallest flattened her hand against the table. “You won’t have a choice!”
Something in Arnya’s tone caused a prickling sensation on Tascana’s neck. “There is always a choice.”
“An easy thing to say when not standing before the variety of choice he will offer you.”
Tascana fidgeted with her cup. Surely the magic she learned was not the center of some Master’s plans to become all-powerful. What was so special about her?
“I can teach you a different magic. One that will defend you against The Master.” Arnya leaned into her chair. “But only if you promise to stay here where it is safe.”
“So I receive an ultimatum either way?”
“My offer is to protect you. Nothing more.”
The seed of dread performed its final split, digging a main root into the pit of her stomach. It was no longer a seedling, but an established vine. Tascana put her cup down, refusing to water it.
Now what?
CHAPTER 15
Jurren adjusted his position on the ground. Sleep eluded him. He glanced at Cale whose powerful arm circled Montanya while she slept. Her innocent face snuggling into the dragon’s cobalt scales was as ironic as watching oil burn on the face of a lake. And yet, they were two pieces of the same whole. An otherworldly quality resonated with every move she made. She looked like a young girl, but she did not look like a young girl. From the lilt in her breath to the motion of her feet as she curled tighter, every aspect of her being screamed she was more than she seemed.
If only this insomnia would pass. The buzz of thoughts spinning around Jurren’s head practically made his ears ring. Images from dreams long forgotten pecked around at his mind as though something from his former life begged to be remembered.
He took a deep breath in through his nose. A sickeningly familiar smell clenched his hands into fists. The same rotting odor he detected from Kase in Gaulden Forest. Had the goblins found them? He jumped to his feet.
Shaking Kidelar’s shoulder, Jurren whispered as loud as he dared. “I smell goblins.”
“Are you sure?”
“Do you want to risk it?”
Logan snorted in his sleep and pulled up his head, half-awake. “Do you smell that?”
“Yes. We have to leave. Now.” Jurren moved to wake Cale.
As he pulled Montanya into his arms, he wrapped his cloak around her to shield her from the night air. A confused grunt signaled Arkose coming awake. Moonlight shimmered against the dragons’ scales showing Logan preparing to take flight and Helmsley turning to do the same. Jurren patted Cale on the neck to signal they were ready.
As they cleared the trees, Kidelar gave a sharp cry. Jurren centered Montanya against Cale’s neck then drew his sword. Angry chattering barked behind him. Instinct swiped his sword backward.
The hunched form of a goblin gripped itself at the abdomen, falling away as another form hurdled onto Cale’s back. Jurren’s arm, still arched from the first strike, slashed to lop off the new creature’s head. Another sprang against Cale’s tail. The dragon then jerked down and to the right as a dark form swung on his forearm.
Jurren gripped Cale around the neck, pressing Montanya between them. “Dive and flip!”
The ground spun over and under them as Cale somersaulted. Fading screeches flung out in different directions.
Kidelar’s screams continued above him and to the left. While guiding Cale in that direction, Jurren withdrew a dagger from his boot, waiting several agonizing seconds to sight the goblin. There! He hurled the blade. A guttural wail sounded then faded toward the ground.
Still one more pressed down on the scholar.
Cale gave two hard pumps with his wings, rising to maneuver above Logan. Thick grunts protested Cale’s clawed hands then wasted away.
Banking to the right, Jurren saw the crumpled profile of Kidelar slumped against Logan’s neck. Behind them, a goblin lifted into the air then barely missed the tip of both dragons’ wings. The creature’s twisted face made eye contact with Jurren as it clawed at the open air.
Where are they coming from?
Movement flickered from a dozen places below. Goblins emerged from the tops of the trees, somehow thrusting themselves upward.
“Logan! Get higher!” Jurren pointed his sword upward for emphasis.
Blazing fire issued behind him as Helmsley carved a barrier through a barrage of goblins filling the tops of the trees.
“Let’s get out of here!” Arkose poised on his dragon’s back with sword extended.
Good, he doesn’t look hurt.
Cale turned to follow the other two dragons, then plunged left. Two goblins clung to his wing. Moving around Montanya’s squirming, Jurren found another dagger and caught one of the creatures in the eye.
“Give me my ring!” Montanya’s hands pressed at Jurren’s face.
He pulled back, getting a clear shot at the next target, then flung his last dagger. Cale recovered, only to twist upward. Wrapping both arms against the dragon’s neck, Jurren held Montanya safe. Chattering barked below him. A sudden shift of Cale’s tail sent the creature flying away, allowing the dragon to level out.
“Give me the ring. I can stop them.” Montanya’s voice sounded like an echo within a dream.
Cale wobbled beneath them. Two goblins gripped the dragon’s neck. Screeching growls below warned others had Cale by the legs.
“Please, Jurren, give me my ring!”
No time for talk about her ring. He swiped forward, felling one. Two more strikes released the second one clinging to Cale’s neck. The moment he positioned his arm to point the blade down, Montanya seized his wrist with both her hands. Her fingers snaked against his palm as he felt the ring slip off his hand.
“What are you —?”
The demand halted in his throat. Montanya pushed herself to a stand, chanting a phrase in a foreign tongue. Each recitation came louder, resonating through the sky. A great wind pressed down on them, causing Cale to falter. Jurren gripped the girl’s waist, steadying them both.
All around them, the images of goblins dropped away. Branches snapped in the rattling trees. Growls, screeches, and angered chattering diminished as the wind intensified. Cale shook loose the last goblin clinging to his legs and began to ascend. The force of rushing air lessened as they climbed.
Wind swirled between the trees, sounding like a cascading river. The girl’s voice still bounced through the air.
“Montanya, stop.” When she did not respond, Jurren stiffened his grip on her waist to shake her back into the present. “Stop!”
The girl lowered to a crouch, glancing over her shoulder at him. Her body shook with ragged breaths. The gale winds quieted.
Jurren turned to find Logan. The dragon nodded he was all right then turned to indicate the limp scholar on his back, shaking his head. Arkose came alongside Logan on Helmsley.
“Kidelar’s been infected.” Jurren put a hand to his mouth to carry his voice.
The girl directed Cale to hover over Logan. “Your friend needs the kind of medicine only my people can offer. There is little time.”
Her thin frame quickly slipped off Cale. Moving to grab her, Jurren’s hand closed on open air as Montanya landed on the dragon below them, directly behind Kidelar. Immediately, Logan veered sharply left. The girl rode arched on all fours, holding Kidelar in place while guiding Logan. Jurren signaled Cale to speed up to match the other dragon’s pace. How could a ten-year-old girl control a dragon with such ease? And with a wounded rider! Whatever it was, it probably had something to do with her ability to create that windstorm.
Logan banked right and dipped to cruise over the thick canopy. Tree tops bubbled beneath like simmering soup. A large gap opened some distance ahead, and Logan slowed to lower into it.
Moonlight reflected along the face of a lake. Trees came right up to the edge of the water with no visible shore for them to land. Montanya seemed to anticipate this as she squatted lower, pointing her hand down and to the side within Logan’s peripheral vision. The dragon changed the flap of his wings to ease into the water. Cale followed Logan’s lead, splashing in hind legs first. Another wet crash behind him signaled Helmsley’s approach. They paddled to the edge.
“We didn’t travel far from those goblins.” Jurren slid off Cale.
Thick mud sucked around his boots as he trudged toward Logan.
“They can’t find us here.” Montanya tried to pull Kidelar upright.
“Don’t, you’ll drop him.”
Jurren managed to hurry the last few steps. When he reached for Kidelar, the scholar slid in the opposite direction.
“Got him!” Arkose grunted as he hoisted the man onto his shoulder. “He’s soaked, and I don’t think it’s from the water.”
“My people can heal these kind of goblin wounds, but we must hurry.” Montanya jumped into the mud.
Logan pulled his head back as though wanting to distance himself from the girl as quickly as possible. What was his problem with her?
She headed toward the trees without looking back. “Follow me.”
Jurren turned toward Cale. “Find somewhere safe to wait.”
“I will look after them.” Logan’s words grated through curled lips. Again.
The reason for the dragon’s irritation would have to wait until Kidelar was safe. Following the sound of snapping branches and crunching leaves through the dense trees, Jurren ran to catch up to Arkose and Montanya. Kidelar moaned and babbled something incoherent.
As the groaning increased, Jurren worried they might already be too late. “How much farther to your village?”
“It’s close.” She sounded a dozen yards ahead.
A voice barked at them. “Tchent teban shunj?”
