Dragon Soul

by Diana Green

  He and Valla traveled half the night before stopping to rest in a narrow gorge. As soon as light streaked the eastern sky, they were off again.

  The terrain sped by beneath them, mostly uninhabited, with burnt or abandoned farms here and there. It made Hathos wonder, what sort of dragons belonged to this southern clan? Were the rumors of their pillaging and conquest true?

  On their third afternoon south of the Shinnari River his questions were answered. A group of four dragons flew into sight, led by a massive red male. When the strangers spotted Hathos and Valla they raced toward them at top speed.

  What is your business here? the red male demanded. His mind link felt like a fist to the head.

  The four strange dragons swooped into formation, flanking them, leaving no room to maneuver. With ominous precision the southerners changed course, forcing he and Valla to go along.

  We mean no harm—Hathos started to explain, but Valla interrupted.

  Unless you keep herding us like this. Her mind link whipped through the group. Give us space or you’ll see just how much harm I can do! A deep growl reinforced her statement.

  He cringed inwardly. Didn’t she understand the need for diplomacy? Two against four were not reasonable odds, and they needed more information.

  You will come with us, the leader ordered. He blasted a jet of fire just above Valla’s spiked back. She answered by slamming into his side, knocking him off course. He rolled and engaged, the two of them clawing and snapping at each other’s scaled hides.

  Valla stop! Hathos pleaded. These dragons might be Oliana’s family. We can’t make them our enemies.

  They should learn manners, she growled, withdrawing from the conflict.

  You will come with us! The red male repeated his command, emphasizing it with a deafening roar.

  Yes we will, Hathos agreed. You startled us, and my friend reacted in self-defense. I promise we come with peaceful intentions.

  That’s for Lord Baylis to decide, the leader responded. No more resistance or we’ll tear your throats out. Understand?

  Yes. Hathos replied quickly, but Valla held her silence. With obvious reluctance, she allowed the strangers to flank her once more.

  ****

  Vadin looked up from his book, gaze distant, thoughts turning over the last passage he’d read. Did it hold the key to solving his dilemma? Was there a way to find the beautiful eldrin woman, Asahni, and speak with her? If so, he had to try, no matter how slim his chances were.

  His gaze returned to the parchment page, and he read the words again.

  Little is known of how the eldrin finally passed from this world. Few humans lived then, and those who did were mere servants, humble shadows of their immortal masters. As such, these humans could not fully understand the wonders they witnessed.

  Nevertheless, tales have come down to us, through the ages. They speak of a terrible war, in which demons entered our world by means of a magic gateway, a portal between planes of existence. They were a scourge upon the land, wreaking much havoc and destruction.

  The eldrin joined their magic together, forcing the demons from our world. They passed through the gateway, driving the vile enemy before them, and when they were through, closed the portal behind.

  Never again could the demons enter this land, but the price proved great. The eldrin were lost to us, trapped in another realm, beyond all sight. We can only hope they live on, immortal still.

  Perhaps someday, a clever soul will find a way to reach them. If so, there are a thousand questions we might ask, of ones so wise and powerful.

  Vadin read the final passage a third time, his pulse quickening. A thousand questions indeed. If anyone could help him banish the specter of Turrok, surely it was Asahni.

  After his first memory of her broke through, more had followed. He recalled how she taught Turrok shape-shifting and spell-craft. Her skill ran deep and strong, making her an excellent mentor. She was generous with Turrok, sharing her magical gifts as well as her affection.

  Like fragments of a broken mirror, Vadin remembered a moment here and a moment there, often unrelated and out of sequence. Gradually he pieced them together, forming a story of his past life.

  With Asahni’s guidance, Turrok had become an impressive wielder of magic, rivaling even his lovely teacher. When the eldrin vanished into another world, he was left behind, the most powerful sorcerer living. Though his grief at losing Asahni was potent, so was his thirst for glory.

  He became the first dragon lord, founder of the golden dragon city in the east. Though his exploits were not lauded through time, like his heroic brother Aurek, there were those who remembered him.

  Centuries after his death, when the dragon lords had grown idle and decadent, his soul was wrenched back from the afterlife. In order to use his powers in their war with the trolkin, they performed a ritual of necromancy, forcing him to be born again, in a new body and a new life.

  But they couldn’t control the form he took. In a remarkable twist of fate, Turrok’s ancient dragon soul returned through a human infant. Vadin, son of a seamstress and fisherman, born in the coastal village of Graystone.

  For years, the dragon lords scoured the land, searching until they found him. What did they care if he was just a small boy? In him rested untold potential, enough magical power to turn the tide of war. He was their secret weapon.

  They ripped him from home and family, bringing him to the dragon city in the east. From that point on he became their pawn, driven ruthlessly as they strove to waken his magical powers. No test proved too cruel, no punishment too harsh. All that mattered was forging him into a weapon to batter their foes.

  He had become just that, a dealer of death and destruction, cutting down trolkin like grain in a field. But the dragon lords failed to see retribution coming, assuming his loyalty and paying dearly for their mistake.

  That thought gave him grim satisfaction. They had ruined his life, and he took theirs, in turn. Poetic justice.

  Vadin snapped the book shut, rose, and stretched. His head hurt from so much remembering, and his back ached from hunching over the low table. The time for studying was over. The moment for action had arrived.

  If Asahni still lived, he would find her. Not only to seek aid in purging Turrok’s dragon influence, but also because he yearned to meet her again in this life. The worshipful love he’d felt, in that previous lifetime, still lingered in his soul. A part of him longed to once more hold such beauty close.

  From experience, he knew how to create a portal to the location of a specific person. It was difficult, but he had managed it once, by adapting a traditional teleporting spell. Of course, to find Asahni, he would also have to break through the barrier between worlds.

  Such magic required tremendous energy, more than he alone could generate. He had the young she-dragon to source from, but even she couldn’t offer enough reserves to create a stable portal. At least he might try to send a message through to the other world. That would provide a promising start.

  Eager to make a first attempt, Vadin hurried to bring the she-dragon to his ritual chamber. Her reluctance came as no surprise, but his mind spun with plans and renewed ambition. No space remained for compassion.

  He forced her into the center of the magic circle then walked the perimeter, calling the symbols to life. They glowed against the stone floor, pulsing with power. The same magic flowed through him in an electrifying current.

  Raising his right hand, he sent a twisting rope of sorcery to the she-dragon. It looped around her chest, sinking in, seeking her life-force. She cried out in protest as it latched on, drawing energy.

  Vadin felt one brief pang of conscience, before her energy raced along the magic cord and surged into him. It filled him with power, potent and intoxicating, bursting with raw potential. The sensation was glorious, having so much energy available to direct. It made him invincible. Nothing lay beyond his reach.

  “Asahni!” He shouted the eldrin woman’s name, followed by anc
ient words of power aimed to slice between the worlds and find her. Magic crackled over his skin and around the circle, leaping from symbol to symbol like lightning.

  The air in front of him vibrated, rippling and drawing in on itself. He threw his spell, like a spear, into the center of the distortion. All his intention and power went with it, willing the portal to form.

  A terrible rending sound followed, ripping through the chamber and echoing off the walls. The temperature in the ritual circle soared. Harsh odors stung his nose, stinking of burning and death.

  Before his eyes, a crack appeared between the worlds.

  Pale yellow sky stretched above dark mountains. The image lasted for a moment only. With it came an impression of great distance and ‘otherness’ beyond any he had known.

  At the last instant, he sensed an awareness turn to meet his own. Amethyst eyes flew open in surprise, seeing him through the collapsing portal. Brilliant sorcery, white and searing, leapt toward him.

  The tear between the worlds closed with a crack like thunder. Vadin slumped to the floor exhausted, his magic circle dimming, the symbols winking out, one after another. Nearby, the she-dragon lay motionless, her life-force sorely depleted.

  She couldn’t be used for another sourcing until she recovered her strength. After that, he’d try the spell again. The portal had opened, if only for a few seconds. There was every reason to believe he could improve the results, next time.

  Victory enlivened his mind, despite his body’s fatigue. Asahni must have been the one he sensed, in the other world. Those violet eyes of hers were unmistakable, as rare as jewels.

  Had she sent her bolt of magic to close the portal or help keep it open for him? Was her action a warning or an invitation? Contacting her again was the only way to know for certain. He could hardly wait to try.

  Chapter Five

  Lord Baylis rose from his ornate throne, stalking toward Hathos and Valla. A thick band of gold and jewels sat on his brow, weighing down his wheat-colored hair. He was large, even for a dragon, though not as big as Shrake, the red male who’d brought them in.

  Hathos was shocked by the number of dragons living in this fortress. They easily outnumbered the Dragonvale and Red Crag clans combined. If these southerners weren’t so barbaric in their attitude toward humans, they might have proven to be valuable allies.

  Passing through the courtyard, he’d seen a woman being whipped, hands bound to a post, back bloody and torn. When he protested her treatment, Shrake explained she was a slave, like all the other humans. Her pain meant nothing, her life worth no more than the labor she provided.

  A miasma of fear hung over the massive and richly appointed fortress. Hathos, with his empathetic nature, felt the slaves’ despair like a chilling fog. This was not a happy place.

  “Shrake tells me you know something of my daughter’s disappearance,” Baylis boomed. He towered over Hathos, face grim, eyes aflame with menace. “Where is she?”

  Around them the throne room remained silent. Afternoon sun slanted through diamond-paned windows, forming patterns of light on the marble floor. The few dragons present observed from a discreet distance, their postures tense.

  “I don’t know much,” Hathos answered. “But she is being held in a tower, close to the sea…perhaps on an island.”

  “Who keeps her there?”

  “A sorcerer. I’m not sure of his exact intentions, but they don’t seem benign.”

  “And how do you come by this information?”

  “From my dreams. I have skill with—”

  “Rubbish. Speak sense, pup, or you’ll regret it.” Baylis’ brows lowered like storm clouds.

  “I am speaking sense, if you’d just listen. Oliana appears in my dreams. She’s desperate for help, and her need has been drawing me south. That’s why we’re—”

  “Don’t lie to me!” Baylis cuffed Hathos hard across the head, sending him staggering.

  Valla snarled, throwing herself between the two of them. She struck Baylis in the gut, doubling him over. Quick as a flash, she dropped low, sweeping a leg across his ankles and toppling his bulk to the floor. He lay prone and winded, struggling to rise.

  Shrake and another male launched themselves forward, shoving Hathos out of the way. They grabbed Valla from both sides, but she ducked and spun, almost breaking free. A third male entered the fray. She managed to land a kick to his knee, before Shrake clamped a beefy hand over her windpipe.

  “We’ll have no more of that,” he growled, taking a fistful of dark hair and wrenching her head back. She bared her teeth but gave no other indication of pain.

  Lord Baylis pushed heavily to his feet. “Throw these two in the dungeon and let them stew for a few days. Then we’ll see what they have to say.”

  “But we must rescue Oliana,” Hathos insisted, as guards stepped forward, taking him by the arms. “I can help—”

  “Silence!” Baylis advanced, anger etching his features. “I don’t know what game you’re playing at, but I won’t be tricked by talk of magic dreams. I won’t be made a fool of, and I won’t pay any ransom. Either give my daughter back or tell me where to find her. Those are your only options.”

  “I can’t do either…yet.” Hathos tried to keep desperation out of his voice. “And locking me in your dungeon won’t change things.”

  “That remains to be seen.”

  “If you’ll take a suggestion, Sire…” Shrake spoke up, his voice grating like stone on stone.

  “What is it?”

  “These two need harder convincing, especially the female. A little rough handling ought to do the trick. “ He yanked Valla’s head back further. “I’d be happy to oblige.” Grinding his hips against her in a crude parody, he made his intentions clear.

  She struggled, fury burning her eyes, deepening their color to indigo. The three males hung on, barely restraining her. For an instant, she broke an arm free. Just long enough to punch one of them in the groin.

  He sank to his knees, face contorted with pain. Shrake bellowed and smashed a fist into Valla’s brow, knocking her unconscious. She slid to the marble floor.

  “No!” Hathos cried out in alarm. “Leave her alone.”

  Shrake cocked his head, offering an unpleasant smile. “I’ll do whatever I damn well please. But if you’re lucky…I’ll let you watch.” He prodded Valla’s chest with his boot. “She’s a fine specimen, if a bit wiry for my tastes. This should be fun.”

  “Please, Father. You can’t let Shrake have her.” A young tawny-haired male stepped forward, addressing Lord Baylis. “We have no proof these strangers are lying. What if they’re not? Maybe they could help us find Oliana.”

  Baylis shook his head. “The fools talk nothing but nonsense.”

  Hathos thought about restating his case but decided against it. If he was lucky, Lord Baylis’ son would do the job for him.

  “How can we ignore a possible lead, without knowing more?” The young male’s voice rose in frustration. “These two might be telling the truth, and they’ve done nothing wrong.”

  “The bitch attacked me.” Baylis pointed a finger at Valla, his face reddening.

  “You struck her companion. She only acted out of loyalty.”

  “Bah. You’re smitten with her looks. I know how you think, Orlis, and it’s all from the waist down.”

  The young male grimaced. “At least allow them a few days to come around…like you said before. Let them stew in the dungeons a while, but don’t give her to Shrake until you’re sure she deserves it. These are dragons we’re dealing with, not humans. Don’t we owe them the benefit of the doubt?”

  Baylis eyed his son speculatively, some of the ire fading from his face. “I’ve never heard you speak so well before. Perhaps you are finally growing up.”

  “Does that mean you’ll listen to me?”

  Baylis gave a slow nod. “They have three days to come around. After that, Shrake can do what he likes with them.”

  ****

  Olia
na curled in a ball, willing sleep to come. Her body still trembled and ached from the magical sourcing. To the sorcerer’s credit, he had given her a strengthening tonic and brought an extra blanket. Yet that hardly made up for his earlier actions.

  He might not want her dead, but he cared little for her suffering. She had to escape soon, before he used her as a source for more magic. If only Hathos could help. He’d pledged to keep searching until he found her, and that promise remained her best hope.

  Some unknown grace had forged a link between their dreams. She didn’t understand how it happened, but she never doubted Hathos was real. He’d become her lifeline, the only good thing to arise from all this horror.

  Outside, the moon rose, shining stripes of pale light through her barred window. A keening wind circled the tower, finding every hole and crack between the stones. It tormented her, but no more than the scurrying rats and spiders. They were her only cellmates, and she hated them.

  At last, late in the night, sleep came. She slipped into a dream, finding herself standing on a long dirt track. It stretched away in both directions, disappearing into a mist that crept ever closer.

  Though she knew it was a dream, the mist made her uneasy. It seemed to be swallowing the track, one yard at a time. She didn’t want it to touch her, in case she too might vanish.

  “Hathos!” she called, desperate to make a connection with him. “Where are you?” She turned a full circle, searching the mist for signs of life. “Please come to me. I need you.”

  As if the words held true power, he appeared, standing on the track beside her. His presence provided immediate comfort, his hazel eyes filled with compassion, the touch of his hand reassuring.

  He’d told Oliana he was a healer, and she could see the pearly glow of magic surrounding him. It radiated from his fingers, soothing her. Even the mist responded, rolling back to reveal a curving stretch of coastline, bright in the sun.

  With each passing night, the dreams evolved, becoming more vivid and real. At first, Hathos seemed barely more than a whisper, but now he was a fully realized presence. Being with him, like this, was the only happiness she’d known for weeks.