Army of the Dead fl-8

by Richard S. Tuttle

  “Is there any hope?” Mistake’s muffled voice asked.

  “If Kaltara is the true god,” affirmed Marak, “then Myka will live.”

  Princess Alahara pushed away from the Torak and gazed into his eyes.

  “Are you saying that you will denounce Kaltara if Myka dies?” she asked. “Do you blame Him for her injuries?”

  “No,” Marak said quickly. “I blame no one but myself for her injuries. What I meant is that Kaltara would never give up on a winged warrior. As long as she has breath, He will watch over her. She will recover. Trust me.”

  “You do not sound as if you believe those words yourself,” the elven princess noted. “I must go to her.”

  “I will go with you,” offered Marak. “Why have the elves come with the Fakarans? Some of them are not mages.”

  “All of my elven mages are here,” answered Princess Alahara as they walked close to the dragon, “but I also brought many warriors. If Myka is to need blood, it will be elven blood that flows in her veins.”

  “Why?” asked the Torak.

  “A couple of reasons,” answered the elven princess. “First of all, the elves are an ancient race as are the dragons. If there is much of a difference, it seems reasonable that elven blood would be a closer match. Secondly, the Fakarans will need all of their strength in the coming battles. We cannot afford to have them weakened while they are hacking the enemy to death, whereas the elves will play a less strenuous part in the battle.”

  “You have turned into a wise woman, Mistake,” smiled Marak. “I find that hard to believe having known you a long time ago, but I now feel privileged to have known you.”

  “Now I can see why Lyra loves you,” chuckled Princess Alahara. “You do have a way with words, Emperor Marak.”

  When they walked up next to the dragon, Lyra looked up briefly and smiled at Princess Alahara. She rose and suddenly noticed the clearing full of Fakarans and elves.

  “What is all this?” she asked. “Why are so many people here?”

  “You did not know?” laughed Princess Alahara. “Your lover ordered tens of thousands of people to rush here to offer their blood and magical expertise. We are but the first to arrive.”

  The Star of Sakova looked questioningly at Marak, who did his best to avoid looking at her. Princess Alahara placed her hand gently on Lyra’s arm and smiled.

  “It was actually a rather smart move, Lyra,” she said. “The attack for tomorrow has been cancelled, and everyone wants to help in any way they can. I thought elven blood would be a better match. Don’t you agree?”

  “I suppose so,” Lyra said distractedly. “Do you know how many hearts a dragon has?”

  “How many hearts?” Princess Alahara repeated. “Do you mean they have more than one?”

  “I don’t know,” admitted Lyra, “but I think I am hearing four hearts beating. Is that possible?”

  “She is a big creature,” shrugged Princess Alahara, “but you are asking the wrong person. I know nothing of dragons, and I doubt that anyone else does. What can I do to help?”

  “That’s right,” Lyra suddenly perked up. “You are a mage now. Come and help me. Marak, send the other mages to us when they arrive.”

  “I brought some with me,” Princess Alahara said as the two women walked around the dragon.

  Marak shook his head in wonder and went to summon the mages that Mistake had brought with her. As the area got crowded, Marak started issuing locations where the people could wait. The Fakarans went back out on the plains and set up camp, while the elves found a clearing not too far away from the dragon. The mages all clustered around the giant creature, and Marak walked back out to the signal fire to await the others.

  The wait was not long and soon a long column of chokas arrived. The Torak directed the Sakovan and elven mages towards the dragon and continued waiting. Less than an hour later the Chula arrived with more elven passengers. When he saw King Avalar he waved him down, and the elven king dismounted and walked over to the Torak.

  “I see others have arrived before us,” commented King Avalar. “You wanted to talk to me?”

  “Your daughter was among the first to arrive,” replied Marak. “She has grown into a wonderful woman.”

  “They both are extraordinary,” smiled Avalar.

  “Do you know how many hearts a dragon has?” the Torak blurted out.

  “I have no idea,” confessed the elven king, “but I may be able to find out.”

  “How?” asked Marak.

  “I can ask my uncle in Elvangar,” answered King Avalar. “Elvangar has a massive library of ancient tomes, and the winged warriors were revered by our people. I have to believe that some time in the past, elves have had occasion to heal the creatures. Is the use of an air tunnel acceptable to you?”

  “Absolutely,” Marak nodded vigorously. “Anything that can help save Myka’s life is acceptable to me.”

  King Avalar placed a comforting hand on the Torak’s shoulder and smiled at him.

  “She will survive,” promised the elven king. “We will do everything in our power to ensure that. You should also do whatever you can to help.”

  “I have no knowledge of healing,” frowned Marak. “What can I do?”

  “Pray,” answered King Avalar as he turned and walked away.

  By the time King Avalar reached the dragon, the creature was swarming with mages. They crawled over the dragon like bees on a hive. Every little tear in the skin was being closed up with healing spells, and a long line of elven warriors was waiting to donate blood. For all the activity going on, the dragon still appeared dead.

  The elven king opened an air tunnel to Elvangar and sent Garl to find the information he needed. He passed the time talking to Queen Alycia and finally Garl returned with the information. The elven king dropped the air tunnel and went in search of the Star of Sakova.

  “Only one heart,” declared King Avalar when he had found Lyra.

  “Yes, I know,” Lyra smiled distractedly. “Or rather I should say that it doesn’t matter now. I thought I heard four hearts beating when I first examined her and that caused me confusion, but her heart is beating stronger now and it is obvious that it is only one heart. How did you find out?”

  “I contacted Elvangar,” answered Avalar. “Marak was very concerned.”

  “He should have asked me,” smiled Lyra. “That question was answered hours ago. At least it gave him something to occupy his time.”

  “He is very worried,” Avalar said sympathetically.

  “I know,” Lyra sighed compassionately. “Why don’t you tell him that Myka will live? It will ease his mind quite a bit.”

  “Are you sure of that?” he asked.

  “Fairly sure,” nodded Lyra, “but I cannot say what condition she will be in. Her heartbeat has strengthened a great deal since we have started giving her blood, and her breathing is much more robust now. I have not had time to check with the other mages regarding her injuries, but you may if you wish.”

  “That is good to hear,” remarked Emperor Marak who had come up behind Avalar unseen. “I am sure that she will be as good as new when you get done.”

  Lyra shook her head and returned to her duties while King Avalar wandered off to talk with the other mages. Marak stood watching the healers work. At times he was called upon to organize work groups to move parts of the dragon as broken bones were mended and parts of the skin that had been inaccessible were healed. Eventually, he wandered off and visited the elven campsite. His mind wandered and exhaustion finally claimed him. He fell asleep and when he woke up, sunlight was filtering down through the trees.

  The Torak rose quickly and walked to the clearing where the dragon rested. He was surprised to see that no mages were crawling upon the huge creature. Only a single elven mage sat near the dragon’s snout. He walked up to the mage and sat down next to him.

  “How is she?” he asked.

  “She is alive,” answered the healer. “All of her bones are solid
, and all of her internal organs appear to be functioning, but not much more.”

  “What do you mean?” Marak asked with alarm.

  “I mean that technically, she is alive,” answered the mage, “but she is not awake, and she is not exactly sleeping, either. I am afraid that is the best we can do. She will never fly again. In fact, I doubt that she will ever wake up.”

  “Where is Lyra?” Marak asked harshly as he rose swiftly.

  “She went to sleep over there a couple of hours ago,” answered the mage. “There is nothing that she can do. Let her sleep.”

  Marak left in the direction the mage had pointed and found Lyra with several dozen other mages. The Star of Sakova was fast asleep. Marak bent over and gently shook her. Lyra’s eyes creaked open, and she stared up at the Torak.

  “I am sorry,” Lyra said when she realized why Marak was there.

  “Come with me,” commanded the Torak.

  Lyra sighed and rubbed her eyes. She dutifully rose and followed Marak back to the dragon. The Torak dismissed the attending mage and sat Lyra down in his place.

  “Marak,” she said, “I am tired. I know that Myka is not how you expected her to be, but we have done all that we can do.”

  “If you had done all that you could,” retorted the Torak, “Myka would now be complaining about the lousy conditions of her surroundings.”

  “It doesn’t work that way, Marak,” Lyra said with a bit of annoyance. “You cannot just wish her better. I know how much she means to you, but she is beyond our help.”

  “But she is not beyond Kaltara’s help,” countered the Torak. “Do you not remember what you did for StormSong? I heard the stories of that miraculous day. I want another one.”

  “I don’t even know what I did that day,” confessed Lyra. “I cannot remember it very well, and it has never happened again. I just don’t know what more I can do.”

  “You are His servant, Lyra,” Marak said imploringly. “You may not understand what happened that day, but I do, and I was not even there.”

  “What are you saying?” asked Lyra.

  “I want you to pray for her,” answered Marak. “You have done all that your magic is capable of, but you have forgotten who gave you that magic. All of your power emanates from Him, and you have not used that greatest power yet to help Myka.”

  Lyra looked at Marak with sudden understanding. She had prayed for Myka, but not in the same way as she had with StormSong, not with the same intensity. She had relied on her use of magic to heal the dragon, even when she knew there was a greater power available for her.

  “You are right,” the Star of Sakova declared. “Join me in prayer.”

  “No,” replied Marak. “I have another task to do while you pray.”

  “And what is that?” balked Lyra. “You have just pointed out that my failure was one of prayer, and now you refuse to do what you asked of me. What could possibly be more important?”

  “You,” smiled Marak. “You are exhausted. I know that you have the power within you to heal Myka, but I will be using my power to heal you while you do Kaltara’s will. Begin.”

  Lyra smiled and bowed her head in prayer. She placed both hands on the dragon’s snout and closed her eyes. Marak stood behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders and then closed his eyes in prayer as he fed his energy into the Star of Sakova.

  Chapter 46

  Then Came the Dawn

  Princess Alastasia woke from the nap she had succumbed to. She sat up and looked around the elven camp and saw that most were still sleeping. As she sat quietly trying to wake up, she noticed that most of the missing were mages. She watched as two elven mages left the camp in the direction of the dragon’s resting place. She assumed that they were going to see if any further progress had been made. She rose and walked towards the nearest campfire to get something to eat. She noticed several other groups of mages rise and walk out of the camp. She looked for returning elves to get a progress report on the dragon, but none of the mages ever returned. Filled with curiosity, she put down her morning meal and left the camp to see for herself.

  When she stepped into the large clearing, the elven princess halted in wonder. She saw Lyra kneeling next to Myka’s snout and Marak directly behind her with his hands on her shoulders. Surrounding the dragon and her two friends was a strange, mysterious glow. It was as if the three servants of Kaltara were encased in a magical, protective shield.

  “This is strangely familiar,” StarWind commented.

  Princess Alastasia turned and looked questioningly at the Sakovan spymaster.

  “The same thing happened the day Lyra healed StormSong,” StarWind continued. “No one has ever been able to explain it to me. Much of what Lyra does is unexplainable.”

  “But Marak was not there that day in the Sakova,” frowned Princess Alastasia. “What is he doing?”

  “I am not sure,” responded StarWind, “but if I had to guess, I would say that he is feeding energy into Lyra. If so, he is wise indeed. After Lyra healed StormSong and the others, she was totally spent, both physically and mentally. He must know what she is doing and how it will affect her. I mean Myka is much larger than StormSong. It will take everything Lyra has to heal her.”

  A look of sudden understanding came over the elven princess’s face as she nodded in agreement.

  “You are wiser than you know,” chirped Princess Alastasia as she dashed away.

  The Sakovan spymaster looked confused as the elven princess ran to a large group of elven mages. HawkShadow walked up behind Star Wind and hugged her.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “I am just observing,” replied StarWind as she curiously watched the elven mages begin speaking excitedly. “I think MistyTrail is up to something.”

  “What exactly is she up to?” asked the Sakovan assassin.

  “I do not know,” admitted StarWind. “We will have to wait and see.”

  They did not have long to wait. Princess Alastasia started giving orders to the elves, and the mages began gathering near the dragon’s snout. None of them touched the dragon, but hundreds of hands stretched out to touch Lyra and Marak. The Chula shamans who had also gathered to watch the strange glow must have understood what the elves were doing, because they quickly joined in, and the crowd surrounding Lyra and Marak grew until there was no more room for anyone to get near. The mages who could not personally reach the servants of Kaltara put their hands on the mages who could reach. Within moments, the strange glow spread across the whole crowd.

  “They are joining in,” HawkShadow remarked. “I wonder what they are doing.”

  “They are healing Lyra and Marak,” answered King Avalar as he walked up behind HawkShadow. “Those that cannot reach are healing the healers.”

  “Shouldn’t you join them then?” asked StarWind.

  “Not yet,” the elven king shook his head. “I do not know how long it will take for Lyra to do whatever it is she is doing, but there must be mages available to take the place of those who tire. I will form a second group to relieve the others as they grow weak.”

  “So you do not know what Lyra is doing then?” asked HawkShadow.

  “No,” King Avalar shook his head. “I have heard the stories of the day the Star of Sakova healed StormSong and the tent full of wounded, but I have no explanation for it. It is either a type of magic of which the elves have no comprehension, or it is something more than magic.”

  “I believe it is prayer,” said a new voice.

  Avalar and the Sakovans turned around and saw Rejji standing not far behind them. The Fakaran king walked forward and joined the group as they turned to stare at the mysterious glow, which was getting brighter by the minute.

  “Only the power of Kaltara could account for what Lyra did in the Sakova,” the Astor continued.

  “Will it work?” asked HawkShadow.

  “Have you ever known Kaltara to fail?” the Astor grinned in response.

  Several hours passed bef
ore the first mages began to falter from exhaustion. King Avalar immediately gathered replacement mages and began to make substitutions. It was shortly after the new mages had begun their healing that Myka’s eye sprang open. A communal gasp rose from the crowd as the dragon’s eye flicked back and forth, as if trying to determine where she was. Myka’s eye landed on Lyra and Marak, and a giant tear rolled down the dragon’s face and splattered on the two Kaltara servants when it struck the ground. Lyra and Marak opened their eyes and rose to their feet. The other mages backed slowly away, and the golden aura winked out of sight.

  “How do you feel?” asked the Star of Sakova.

  Smoke billowed out of the dragon’s nostrils, and her mouth opened wide to show long rows of sharp, giant teeth. Her tongue flicked out and gently pushed the Torak on the chest.

  “Why did you jump?” Myka asked.

  “I thought you would fight better without me,” admitted Marak. “I am sorry for leaving you. I will never cause you tears again. I promise.”

  “What?” quipped the dragon. “Do not presume that tear was for the two of you saving my life. I just have a problem with my eye. In fact,” she grinned, “I think I may have human fingerprints on my eyelid. That must have been the problem.”

  “It is good to have you back again,” grinned Marak. “How do you feel? Is everything working as it should?”

  “She needs time,” interrupted Lyra.

  The winged warrior looked around carefully before rising to her feet. The mages quickly moved back further as the giant dragon flexed her muscles.

  “I have never felt better,” Myka declared. “I guess it helps having hundreds of personal healers. I owe all of you a debt of gratitude.”

  “You owe us nothing,” smiled Lyra. “You are Kaltara’s gift to us. It is our duty to do what we can to keep you safe. Are you sure that everything is working well?”