And at that moment he perceived the light of Brian’s soul depart his body. The Grim Reaper congealed beside the sinful scene and wafted like a dark mist toward the body of the innocent victim. It raised the dreaded scythe and swept its blade downward. Once that serrated metal touched Brian’s skin it would …
Albino crashed into the Grim Reaper and the ground split beneath him, forming a rift a dozen feet deep. His claws slipped through the wispy being as it tried to elude him. But his mind netted it with invisible bands that forced it to take physical form. Grasping the dark being, he missiled it into the mountainside. An avalanche buried the villain under tons of rock and dirt, but not before its hands and head reverted to smoky vapor.
Hestor and Clavius scrambled away from him. He snarled and pinned their legs to the ground with his claws. The warriors screamed and cried for mercy as their blood painted his claws.
He released them but as Hestor struggled to his feet, Albino turned him about so that he could look into his eyes. “What you have sown by this treachery you shall now reap!” He raked his razor claws down Hestor’s front and dropped the man’s limp body.
Dragging himself away from Albino, Clavius trembled. His fingers dug into the ground and he sobbed. “Dark spirits, why have you not come to my rescue?”
“Truly you have fallen from the heights of glory to the depths of darkness.” Albino roared, drew back his long neck, opened his powerful jaws and snared the man. Grinding his teeth together, he broke Clavius in half. The warrior’s soul faded into darkness.
Albino wheeled on Letrias, blood and guts leaking between his teeth as he parted his lips. He grasped a nearby boulder and crushed it in his scaled hand. As the fragments of stone rained on the ground, flames roiled in his half-open mouth.
Eyes wide with fear, Letrias spread forth his hands. Energy sizzled along his palms and his lips trembled. “You are not all-powerful, Albino. Hermenuedis is more than a match for you … and he has taught me how to wield”—his eyes radiated the bluish light amassing between his fists—“to wield mighty power!”
The energy shot from his hands, bolts as thick as his wrists sped toward Albino’s chest. But they passed through his body as if he wasn’t really there; as if he were only composed of air.
Storm clouds gathered. The sunlight faded.
“I will waste no more breath on you,” Albino said. He drew back his head and threw a steady stream of yellow fire at Letrias.
But Letrias was spared incineration.
The clouds spiraled toward the ground and a giant winged man dropped to the dirt, crouching between Letrias and Albino. Then it loomed above the traitor and held out a black orb that absorbed the flames and grew in size until it became the size of a large boulder.
Albino’s flames burned white-hot and a portion of sandy ground beside the Art’en wizard turned to glass.
“Be gone, cursed artifact!” Albino let another roar issue from his mouth as he stretched out his claws. He clenched his fist and the wizard’s orb burst into a billion fragments.
“Hermenuedis,” he rumbled “you have carried your wickedness to its final day!”
“No, Albino, thisss day isss mine!” The wizard screeched.
Suddenly, Valorian dove from the heavens. A ray of sunlight penetrated the clouds and glinted off the dragon’s black scales.
Albino found himself roaring with delight; now two of his vilest enemies were within his reach. Long had he awaited this day.
Valorian folded his wings to his sides, forming himself into a living arrow. He shot toward Albino. But he passed through the white scaled body as if it weren’t there.
Hooking the creature with his claws, Albino flung him down the slope. The black dragon’s body furrowed another rift in the hard earth.
All six of his daughters had listened with rapt attention as he recounted the treachery enacted that day. Now he sighed and said, “The rest of the tale does not merit telling. And it is not a wound I want to open.”
The sisters exchanged horrified glances. Rose’el and Caritha said they thought the atrocity merited retribution of the worst kind. The other sisters voiced revulsion; how could best friends turn so readily upon one another? And why did Kesla weep?
But he swept his hand toward the swords arrayed over the basin. “Behold the weapons of my trusted Six. Each of these swords was once a magnificent weapon of crystal, the blades were long,” he said. “Now they are diminished. The power I infused in them at the time of their creation is lesser now and the blood of the innocent caused the blades to shrink to what you see here now.”
To one side, Dantress raised her hand. “You have a question, child?” he asked.
She nodded. “Father, what happened to the rest of the Six? Were they killed?”
He regarded her in silence. This was the question he’d been dreading and the one that he had expected to hear.
Caritha, standing off to the right, frowned at Dantress. “Father will tell us what he wants us to know—”
“She’s right, you know,” Rose’el added. “Why do you always ask so many questions?”
“Because he said I could—”
Rose’el scowled, but Albino rebuked her with his eyes and turned to the curious one … the special one. “Some of the Six survived my attack. Letrias fled with Auron. And Kesla? Well, he escaped alone.”
He looked at the sword in his hand. Xavion had been a valiant man, a man bound by honor, and loyal. Letrias had robbed Albino of a dear friend on that horrible day and Albino would not forget that.
“It is of the Accursed Three who escaped that I wish to speak to you, for they followed the path of evil and Letrias did so with eagerness. He became strong in dark magic, almost as powerful as his former master, and Auron became his apprentice.
“Lesser in power is the other man, Kesla. But he is growing in strength and has been seen wandering the ruins of the wizard Temple of Al’un Dai.” He growled again. “In the ruins of that vast fortress built by Hermenuedis in his own honor, Kesla may yet discover the path to ultimate power and raise up enemies against me.
“You I have created, my beautiful daughters, so that you may stand against this tide of evil. This is your purpose, this is your calling.”
They looked at each other then back at him. “Us?”
Evela timidly offered “We’re not even of age.”
Dantress’s eyes blazed for an instant, he thought, with fire. She stepped forward and stretched out her hands, looking down at her palms. They glowed for a brief moment and she glanced up at him. “I can feel it, Father. I can feel something inside of me growing and spreading, strengthening me.”
It was the call of their blood; Albino knew it to be so. His blood flowed through their veins, giving them that other sense. It was a dragon trait. The other girls fell into silence, observing their sister.
“Can you not feel it as well?” Dantress demanded of them. “Don’t you feel something powerful rising within you?” She reached out her hand and held Evela’s.
Evela’s eyes opened wide, “I can feel it!” She grasped Levena’s hand and Levena grabbed Rose’el’s. Rose’el nodded her head reluctantly and reached with her left hand, taking Laura’s, who responded immediately by completing the chain to Caritha.
Albino watched them, amazed. They were only twelve years old, rather young to recognize the powers he’d passed on to them. Yet here they were uniting their hearts with Dantress, an ability that many gifted creatures never gained.
The girls let go of each other’s hands. Rose’el’s mouth froze in a slight frown; Caritha looked somber. “Father, what do you want us to do?”
Their sudden willingness took him aback. He felt an urge to keep them forever at home in the palace, forever safe from harm beneath his wings. Could he really send them out into Subterran knowing what would happen? The end would be joy, but the path to that end was littered with suffering and sorrow.
Dantress walked up to him and rested her hand on his leg, looking u
p at him so that he had to twist his long neck to meet her gaze. “Father, what will happen to us?”
He felt tears burning in his eyes. How could he send her when he knew? But then, how could he not? Dragonkind and humankind—both their futures depended on her. But she was so young, innocent, and beautiful.
“There is much pain in your future, my daughter,” he whispered. “You will win and lose, both in great measure. But remember, always remember”—he passed his gaze over all his daughters, knowing that his next words would be their only comfort in the future—“I will be with you through everything, even when you cannot see me. I will never leave you alone! Do you understand?”
The sisters smiled, even Rose’el, and approached the blood-filled basin, eyeing the swords with new interest.
Handle first, he held out the rusted sword of Xavion. “To each of you I will give a sword of the Six. They will be yours to use in the cause of the innocent and helpless. With them you will fight as one, think as one; they will allow you to join strength as one. I will train you in their use and instruct you in the ways of warfare. Wield these weapons with love, and they will serve you well.”
In unison the five sisters standing near the wall reached up and pulled down the swords, their dark eyes gleaming.
“Be careful with those,” he said. “Their edges may be rusted, but the blades can still sever your finger.
“Dantress.” He rested a claw on her shoulder and pressed Xavion’s rusted sword into her hand. “This sword I have saved for you. It belonged to Xavion, captain of the Six.” Her mouth dropped open. Her fingers wrapped around the handle and then she grasped it with both hands and held it before her.
The blade glowed softly, a rusted red color. “This sword is special among its brethren,” Albino said. “It is the only weapon whose master was not a traitor and for that reason it may one day be returned to its former glory, transparent and beautiful. Watch over it with care, for it belonged to a very dear friend.”
“Look, Father! See what we can do?” Caritha, Laura, Rose’el, Evela and Levena raised their swords, touching the points together. He cried out for them to stop, but it was too late. Blue energy sizzled along the swords’ blades and joined between them, then dispersed harmlessly throughout the chamber.
The sisters exclaimed with delight, but then they gazed up at him.
“It is finished,” Albino said. He shook his head.
Caritha’s countenance fell and her smile faded into a frown. “Did we do something wrong?”
“It’s all right,” he sighed. “The five swords have now bonded as they did with the Six, only this time the sword of Xavion was not among them. I would have preferred that you join all six of the swords and then you might have functioned more perfectly as a single unit.”
They looked at the floor and shuffled their feet, but he waved his hand as if it was unimportant. “You will still be able to fight side by side with Dantress; do not worry! Come.” He headed out of the chamber. “I will show you how to properly use these things.”
A WEAPON OF LIVING FIRE
Well, well, fairest of the dragon’s daughters, practicing again?’“
Dantress ignored Mivere and evaluated her opponent. Standing in the center of the armory floor she stepped back and pulled aside the outer purple skirt that hid her scabbard. Her fingers felt their way around the familiar leather grip, and she drew out the sword, spraying flakes of rust into the air as she swung it upright in front of her eyes. With both hands she held it there, looking past it to her opponent.
A healthy rivalry had developed between her and her firstborn sister. Caritha had excelled with weaponry, as had she.
Caritha stood with dignity and grace, much as a queen. But her eyes roved the room, betraying a busy mind. She ran her hand down the side of her purple skirt and opened the fold to reveal her own scabbard. With lightning speed she slipped the rusted sword from its scabbard and dashed toward Dantress, blade poised level with her shoulder.
They met halfway on the yellow sand covering the armory floor. Dantress struck first, feinting to the left but slashing on the right. Caritha’s blade clashed with hers, sending reluctant sparks into the air.
Thunder rattled the glass dome above Dantress’s head. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a storm passing over the palace. Jagged electric bolts split thick, dark clouds. But she focused her attention on her sister.
Seemingly unperturbed by her silence and the clashing metal blades, Mivere appeared, flitted onto her shoulder and perched there, though she noted that he kept a firm grip on her neck collar. “It has been four and a half years since I showed you the secret chamber,” he said as she parried Caritha’s thrust. “I am wishing I never showed you that place; then you would be playing with me.”
She whirled, ducking as she did so, and slid behind Caritha. As she brought her sword toward her sister’s throat to end the swordplay Caritha spun around and they crossed blades.
The red-haired fairy pulled his wand out and toyed with it, sending random colors from its tip in the form of smoke. “I liked you better, fairest of the dragon’s daughters, before you grew up. Don’t you ever—” he squealed with startled delight as Caritha’s blade sliced through the air above his head. “Don’t you ever want to play with me again?’
“Mivere,’ she said between parries, “I’m a little busy at the moment.’
He sighed aloud and drooped his head.
Focusing on the contest, Dantress felt the power of her dragon blood surge. She directed her will into driving her sister back. Her blade glowed momentarily and a wave of blue energy struck Caritha. But her sister closed her eyes, and Dantress’s assault evaporated against her blade. A bolt of energy shot from Caritha’s sword and smote Dantress in the chest. She fell to the ground. Mivere rolled into the sand. Caritha held the tip of her blade gently against Dantress’s throat.
Withdrawing the blade, Caritha held out her hand to assist her to her feet. “Give up!”
“All right, you win.’ Dantress accepted the other’s assistance and then brushed the sand off her dress. “I guess that makes us even.”
“If you count last night’s challenges? Yes.” The corners of Caritha’s mouth betrayed a faint smile. “Dinner will be ready shortly. Gwen told me to remind you of that.”
“I’ll be along in a moment, I need to talk to Mivere.”
Caritha sauntered through an exit door and left it open behind her.
“Mivere?” Dantress scanned the sand floor, but found nothing. She looked at one of the massive exit doors in time to see it close behind the green-clad little creature. Poor thing, he was so easily slighted.
She shouted after Caritha, “I’ll be late for dinner. Tell Elsie, will you?”
“Of course.” The eldest sister returned and closed the door.
Brushing sand from her skirt, Dantress set off after her little winged friend. It took a little while to locate him. He’d gone to the library and wedged himself between a book Astronomy: Impractical Applications and a large scroll yellowed with age. As she approached he stood and leaned against the book. His green eyes were bleary and red. Twin tears threatened to overflow his eyes.
“Mivere, what’s wrong? Are you crying?” She reached up and held out her hand so that he could climb onto it. Both tears rolled down his face as he plopped into her palm. He folded his wings down his back, wiping a fresh tear from his eye.
She dropped into the plush cushions of an easy chair next to the warm blaze in the fireplace. Fall had arrived and the weather had been cool of late.
“There now”—she held the fairy to her bosom and stroked his bony back—“tell me. What has made you cry? I wasn’t trying to ignore you in the armory, but if my silence hurt your feelings then I’m sorry … I really am.”
“Oh, it is not that, fairest of the dragon’s daughters! I do not cry because you were unkind for you are never unkind, but fair and gentle. For this I love you as my best and trusted friend.”
“
Then what is wrong? Something must be, or else you would not be crying.”
The fairy accepted her handkerchief, drying his eyes and blowing his nose with a corner of it. “I was in the throne room this afternoon, cleaning the drapes, when the shepherd and the dragon entered.” He drew in his breath. “Is it true that you are going away?”
“Yes, I suppose so. Father wants us to be ready first; he wants us to understand the swords intimately before we do anything and he wants us to be able to work as a team. So we will not be leaving soon.”
Blowing his nose again, Mivere shook his head. “The great white dragon told the shepherd you are ready, that you are all ready. But, but he said that your first mission will be difficult, a lot more difficult than he had planned on assigning you to.”
“Well, Mivere, I am not afraid to go. I am a daughter of the dragon, and he will watch out for us—”
“But he said things, terrible things, things that sounded like prophecy. You must not go! I beg you, stay in Shizar Palace where you will be safe. I don’t want to lose my best friend!” After this the little fellow started to cry again.
She stayed with him for the next half hour, telling him not to worry but to have faith. “Do you really believe my father would send me if he didn’t think it was for the best?”
“N-no, I guess not.”
“Well, there you are then! Don’t worry, I’ll be careful. Besides”—she smiled—“the Creator watches over all His creatures. He will be with me wherever I am.”
The fairy stood and flew to her neck where he embraced her. “Be safe, fairest of the dragon’s daughters.”
Kissing the fairy’s forehead she rose from the chair. “Come on. Let’s go exploring … in the basement. You’ve always said the rumors of sublevels in the palace are true.”
“But isn’t the basement forbidden to us? Besides, I have no proof; no evidence that such secret chambers were built—”
“Ah,” she interrupted him. “But you were right about the chamber with the swords. Besides, Father never forbade me to go down there. I’ve heard him tell the maids not to clean down there, but he’s never said anything to me or my sisters.”
Swords of the Six (The Sword of the Dragon) Page 6
