“You say that you are willing to accept death. But are you truly? I doubt it, my sister. I think your vision is clouded by pleasure. That man”—she stabbed the air with her finger, pointing out the cave entrance—“has corrupted you!
“And for that”—she reached into the fold of her skirt and drew her sword—“he must die.
“Are you with me, my sisters?” She looked around into the others’ stolid faces. “We must save Dantress from herself.”
“What? You would kill him?” The ringing of her sister’s swords drowned Dantress out.
“I’m sorry,” Evela whispered, “but Caritha is right. We will not let you destroy yourself.”
“Yes,” Rose’el growled, “Ilfedo must die.”
The fire flared. Crimson reflected in the sisters’ dark eyes.
“You would mix the dragon’s blood with humanity, and that we cannot allow.” Caritha stabbed her sword into the air above Dantress’s head. The others followed her example, their blades ringing against hers. “I am sorry, my sister, but the man is responsible for your downfall. Thus, he must die.”
Horror filled Dantress. She looked at her sisters as if seeing them for the first time. Rage cried out within her soul, to think that they would even think of such a thing. Whipping Xavion’s superior blade from its sheath, she struck the swords above her head with brute force. The captain’s blade glowed with holy wrath, and the blood of the innocent fell from its rusted metal.
Such was the might of her attack that all five of her sisters jerked back their hands as if stung, and all five swords clattered to the stone floor.
“For shame!” she spat at them. “For shame! You accuse me of corruption when your own hearts are filled with selfish malice toward a man you do not even know.
“Look at yourselves! Look at us! We are agents of justice, the pride of our father. Yet while you spout piety with your mouths you desecrate his most noble name by your actions.”
Twisting to face Caritha, she held Xavion’s blade to her sister’s left breast. “Ilfedo is a good man, kind and gentle. I want him … and he will be mine! A child will be mine, too, if the Creator wills it.
“Are you so blinded by your desire to keep me safe that you do not see that this is the path I must take? Even the shepherd has blessed this union. Surely you are not so blind as to deny his wisdom?”
She felt hot tears sting her eyes as she looked about. Their faces did not yield compassion. She could plead with them for eternity and not breach the barriers they’d erected to keep their ears from listening.
“It would have been better,” she said, lowering her blade, “if I had left with your blessings as well. But since you will not hear me I must go. There is One whose blessing I must seek before I take the final step. If his blessing is given, then I will be departing from this land.”
Forcing her sword back into its sheath, Dantress walked to the cave’s exit. With one final look back, she spoke in an even tone. “Be forewarned, my sisters. My heart will belong to my husband. … Any of you who takes aggressive action toward him will pay, I swear it, by my own hand.
“I have weighed the consequences of my decision. I would rather have you rejoice with me … but if you will not, then maintain a safe distance. If you harm my man, then I will harm you.”
She strode out of the cave, leaving stunned silence in her wake.
Upon the brow of a hill in the Western Wood, Dantress fell to her knees in the cool grass. The trees rose around her in a protective circle. She leaned back and spread her arms. The love in her heart for a man she hardly knew wildly cried out against all reason, begging her to forsake counsel and take what she wanted without giving ear to the wise.
But she’d made her choice; she’d chosen a path away from Ilfedo and away from her sisters. There was only One to whom this matter should be brought now, only One who cared for her without condition and yet could judge the matter without partiality and had the authority to give her hand in marriage.
A cold wind swept her long, dark hair off her shoulders, flipping it wild and free into the night and slapping it across her face. She combed it back over her shoulders.
Father! Father—I need you! Still kneeling, she looked to the heavens. “I need you!” She said the words aloud, forcing them into the night with all her strength.
And the night split apart with a sonic boom, a ball of fiery white light shooting out of the west and exploding into the ground before her. The great white dragon rose from the point of impact, as if growing from the smoke billowing around his clawed feet. His wings spread to their full span, and his pink eyes blazed as they espied her.
She rose to her feet, small and childlike.
He flexed his powerful muscles. The starlight seemed somehow enhanced by his presence as it twinkled over his glowing white scales.
“Father …” Albino rested one claw on her shoulder and she let out a long sigh of relief.
“You called for me, my child?”
Though she tried to, Dantress could not reply. Everything had happened so fast that now, with his wisdom at her disposal, she could not find the words to explain what she felt in her heart.
But there was no need to ask his counsel.
Albino rumbled in a deep, satisfied way, his pink eyes seemingly mesmerized by his youngest daughter. “You have reached a crossroads, Dantress, a crossroads in your life that will determine your future … and the future of an unborn child.
“You may, at this time, fulfill your love to this man, and he will become your husband. Should you choose that path, remember the prophecy of the sword. For, though this path will lead to your greatest happiness, it will also lead to your death and Ilfedo’s greatest sorrow.
“Nine months you will have from the day of conception, and then you must give up your life to bring another into the world.”
He withdrew his claw from her shoulder and rested his hand on the grass.
In her mind’s eye, Dantress remembered the sword that had risen from a chamber of flames and the name written for her eyes alone to see. “Oganna.” She said it softly as if pronouncing the name would bring calamity upon her own head. But there was a sweetness to the vision that she could almost taste. It was a vision of an infant born from her blood, of dragon blood—and of Ilfedo’s blood.
Could she do it? Could she go to Ilfedo knowing that after such a short while she would leave him to bury her and raise the child on his own? Was she really willing to give up her life just to be with him for so short a time?
She remembered Ilfedo’s eyes gazing into hers, letting her know that everything that he had, all he could give, his very life even, would be hers if she asked him for it. In return for that kind of love she was willing—even—to give her life.
The dragon looked down at her, and she saw tears in his eyes. Yet he did not sway her against that path as she’d feared. Instead he spoke in a voice that betrayed neither fear nor hope. “You have my blessing, my child, if you wish to wed this man. Be to him a good wife, and he will love you till the end of his days, but beware that your love—fleeting as it will be—will rend his soul in two. In bonding with you he will join the destiny of your blood and the sorrow that accompanies it.
“The bond of your love will hold onto him so that he will be forever torn between this life and the life to come. And, believing that death will reunite him with you, he will wait for death and hope for it so that his suffering may end.”
Realizing what he had said, Dantress felt the burden of doubt ease off her shoulders. She had her father’s blessing … and that was all that mattered to her.
“Do not tell your sisters of this conversation,” Albino instructed as his body blazed with light. He snapped his wings against the air. “Specter has told me of their actions toward you on this day. I fear they are confused, fearful. Their trial will soon come, and they must prove themselves to me.”
As if out of nowhere, Patient appeared beside her. “Come child!” The broadest and brightest
smile she’d ever seen on his gentle face warmed her heart. “This is a moment of celebration! Joy, joy … joy for you and for the young man! And”—he laughed—“You have made me proud, my daughter. I daresay this man is getting the better end of this union.” He winked, and she blushed.
The great white dragon’s pink eyes shone down at her. His scales glowed even brighter. “Patient is right. Congratulations! Go now and do as your heart has told you. Love unconditionally and receive love in return.” Flexing his wings, the dragon angled his bony face to look upon the shepherd. “Patient, perform the marriage rite for me, will you?”
“Of course.” The shepherd waved as the dragon spread its wings. “I’ll be happy to, my friend.”
Albino leapt into the air. “Farewell until we meet again, my daughter.” Then he was gone.
Coming alongside her, Patient cheerfully strode into the forest at a pace she found difficult to match. “Hurry now, child. I want to marry you beneath the stars whilst they shine the brightest.” He began whistling a pleasant, upbeat melody. Frequently she caught him glancing back at her over his shoulder. Every time their eyes met, his blue ones would twinkle back at her, and he’d chuckle softly, amusedly, and resume whistling.
A wedding beneath the stars! She blushed at the thought of Ilfedo waiting for her to return with her answer and then quickened her pace.
Ilfedo took the hand of his bride beneath night’s starry dome, in a field within the Western Wood, while the hoots of owls sounded like music from the surrounding darkness. A coyote howled in the distance. The cool, moist air left little doubt as to the lateness of the hour.
The prophet shepherd, his arms spread wide and holding his staff upright in one hand, smiled at the young couple. His blue eyes appeared to glisten in the starlight like sapphires beneath his bushy white brows. The clean white beard framed his smiling, wrinkled face in a dignified manner, and his hood rested over his back, leaving his head uncovered.
“Ilfedo, do you take this woman—who loves you with all her heart and trusts in you to love and protect her in return—do you pledge to stand by her through the good times and the bad? Will you care for, nourish, honor and give yourself wholly and only to her as long as you both live?”
Not taking his eyes off of Dantress, the starlight flickering in her eyes, Ilfedo solemnly nodded. “Yes, I so pledge.”
“And, Dantress”—the shepherd brought his arms together, clasped the staff with both hands—“do you vow, whatever lies ahead in your marriage, that you will stay true to this man? Will you honor him, love and obey him as long as both of you live?”
“I so pledge.” Her eyes did not leave Ilfedo’s.
“Then let the blessing of the bride’s love, and the groom’s love and commitment shine as a beacon for all others to see. Let your love for one another be without condition, and let the time you share in one another’s arms be filled with passion, holy and pure.”
Stepping back, the shepherd knelt and lifted his face toward heaven. “Creator of the universe, now that these two have pledged to one another, committing themselves to this marriage, I pray that you will grant them a sign of your favor that they might never forget their vows this night.”
Suddenly there appeared a pillar of light, shining from the sky. It shone on Ilfedo and his bride, but the ground around them remained in shadow. Something burned Ilfedo’s finger, and he looked down at his hand to find a silver ring thereon. The light glinted off of its etched surface, and a tiny flame burned behind an oval window on the ring’s surface.
Dantress flinched and grabbed her left hand. Then she glanced at her finger. Surprise then delight spread over her face and she held it up. An identical ring to his wrapped its band around her finger.
The pillar of light faded around them until it disappeared altogether. All that remained were the glowing rings with the tiny flames burning behind the little windows.
“You have both been given an extraordinary gift,” the shepherd said. He rose from his knees, leaning heavily on his staff for support. “A wedding like this I have never before seen. These rings will never leave your fingers for as long as you both live. They are known as Eternal Bands, the rings of binding love. Their flames will burn for as long as you both live. If the light of one of your lives is extinguished, in like manner the flames in the rings will also die.
“I wish both of you happiness and long life. May your love for one another fill and overflow so that it touches those around you.” He stepped through the short space of grass separating him and Dantress. Kissing her on the forehead, he said, “You will no longer need your sword, child. Go now with your husband but leave the weapon here.”
She hesitated a moment, reached down under her skirt, unbelted the sheath and held it out to him. The handle of the curious weapon seemed to beg the shepherd to take it.
“No.” The shepherd pointed to the ground. “I have no need for it. Leave it here.”
In response, she crouched, cradling the weapon in her outstretched hands. Without a word she set it in the grass, stood, and took Ilfedo’s hand. As an afterthought, she also reached to her side and slid a crystalline boomerang from under her belt. She placed it on the ground alongside the sword and then, turning away, followed Ilfedo to a hill where the shadows were deepest beneath a lone tree in the midst of a field.
THE OFFSPRING OF THE DRAGON
Ilfedo returned to the Hemmed Land with his bride at his side. No one outside their home saw them apart at any moment. Except for an occasional foray into the woods for fresh game, Ilfedo did not leave Dantress alone. They could not get enough of one another.
Hasselpatch and Seivar mirrored their master’s infectious jubilation. They dutifully and willingly assisted Dantress with household chores. Seivar was slower to accept the change, and it became the larger bird’s habit to stick with his master while his mate watched over their new mistress.
Talks around the fireplace at night, when Dantress and Ilfedo cuddled in the hammock with the birds nestled on top of them, softened the male bird until he accepted her as a member of the family and treated her as such.
Ombre had never been one to deny Ilfedo happiness. But Ilfedo noticed that his friend felt jealous—no, envious would have better described it. Rather than joining in with a laugh, as he’d been apt to do before when he wasn’t the only bachelor in their circle of friends, Ombre distanced himself, choosing instead to stand back and smile as Ilfedo and his wife enjoyed each other’s company.
Both Honer and Ganning on the other hand visited with greater frequency than they had in the past. “A married man! Finally! Now we’re only waiting on Ombre,” they’d say.
With her winning manners, Dantress won the hearts of all Ilfedo’s friends. Honer’s wife, Eva, became her close friend, and together they’d sit for hours at the table discussing gardening and sewing.
Once, between sewing stitches on a quilt, Eva asked Dantress where her family was. Politely Dantress requested that they not discuss it. Eva honored the request and changed the subject with hardly a pause.
And so three months passed. Ilfedo settled into married life. Every morning he awoke to find that his dream had not ended. He’d touch his wife’s shoulder, caress her hair, and wake her with a tender kiss. The Nuvitors would drop from the rafters above the bed and settle on the posts, fluff their feathers, stretch their wings and fly downstairs. The rattling of pots and pans would sound from below as the birds prepped the kitchen for breakfast.
Turning on her side, Dantress would smile back up at him. She was, truly, his dream come true.
Then one day, upon returning empty-handed from a hunt hampered by sheets of cold rain, he entered the house and warmed himself by the fire. “My love,” he called, thinking she must be upstairs, “I think we’ll have to make do with what remains of the rabbits I caught last week. Rain’s coming down hard—too hard in fact. I couldn’t see a thing; even the bow and arrow proved useless.
“As long as you have no objections, I’ll wai
t until it lets up a bit. We should have enough meat left from my trip last week to tide us until dinner tomorrow.”
When she did not answer, he dried himself as best he could. Leaving his bearskin coat hanging on a peg by the fireplace, dripping water on the floor, he climbed the stairs.
There she was, soft in the light of the lanterns glowing around the warm bedroom. Seivar and Hasselpatch were staring at her intently. A tear ran down Dantress’s cheek. She did not wipe it off.
“Please”—she stroked the birds’ chests one by one—“a moment in private?”
“What’s happened?” Ilfedo searched her eyes, but they did not look into his.
The birds spread their wings, flapped once, and glided over his head and down the stairway.
Fingering her ring, Dantress watched the flame burn therein. “Ilfedo”—she sniffed—“I … I am pregnant.”
“Pregnant? Are you serious? Of course you’re serious!” He held out his arms, spread wide. “But that means … I’m going to be a father!” Laughing with delight, he sat beside her. The bed bounced beneath his weight. Smothering her with kisses, he clutched her face to his chest and laughed again. “I can’t believe it. I mean, I know I should have expected it … it’s just … wow … we’re going to be parents!”
For a moment she laughed with him, overcome with his happiness. “Yes. We are.”
“I’ll have to get started on the baby’s room,” he said, scratching his head. “I hope it’s a girl … just like you.”
Then he saw the cloud of sorrow pass over her face and he stroked it. “What’s wrong, my love? You always said you wanted to have children. Why are you crying? Come now, what’s wrong?” He sat down.
“I am not what you think, my love,” she said, sitting in his lap and looping her arms around his neck.
“What do you mean?” He chuckled and kissed her on the lips. “Are you playing with me?”
“No.” She frowned. “No, I am not playing with you. There is something you must know about me, something that will sound”—she sighed—“a little strange.”
Swords of the Six (The Sword of the Dragon) Page 25
