by Cole Pain
Only the empty night greeted him.
The guard was hurrying back to the castle. Korin drew in a breath to call out, but the breeze snatched his voice and his words faded into the evening. The peace quickly dissipated and the presence once again tightened its grip. Fear shook him as he leaned into the tree and slowly slid to the ground. Wrapping his arms around his knees, his body shook with sobs.
“You fool. Did you think you were through fighting?” he said to the night. Looking down at the small shovel at his belt, his reason for being there came back in a rush. With the residuum of peace inside, his conviction deepened. Let Ista find out. Let her call him while he was trying to discover a way to end it. If she did, so be it. He would die fighting. Was death worse than life? He shivered. Death had always terrified him. Death would put him with the Watcher forever.
He shook those thoughts off and recalled the perfect peace he had felt only a breath ago. He would have to find the guard again, but for now he had a task to complete, the first he had actually assigned himself. He looked out into the night, letting a small hope rise inside him. Maybe tonight he would escape the pain.
He darted to the next tree, then the next. Soon he was in the graveyard, walking among the dead. Careful to keep in the shadows, he made his way down the rows of mounds until he came to a freshly dug grave. Korin dropped to the ground and began to dig.
- - -
Ramie looked up when the library door opened. A small, mousy boy entered, keen hazel eyes surveying the room with incredible wariness. His mop of unruly brown hair caught the torchlight and cast shadows on his face, making him appear much older than his years.
Lazo rose from the chair and motioned the boy forward. “Come, Markum. The king of Oldan has joined our cause.”
Markum barely glanced at Ramie as he placed a book on the table. Ramie started when he saw the silver dragon on the cover. With trepidation he noticed the dragon had blue eyes. He had been avoiding the topic. A silver dragon was concern in itself, but a silver dragon without silver eyes? Ramie shuddered.
He had heard people whispering about the Collective’s promise of magic. Many were pointing to the silver dragon as a sign of the Collective’s power. Soon, they said, magic would be bestowed on the faithful. Ramie repressed a sudden chill.
Lazo folded his hands beneath his chin and waited for Markum to speak. Ramie was surprised to see respect in Lazo’s gaze. Behind the third advisor, the twins’ faces held the same reverence. Ramie studied the boy more closely. Although he was slight of stature, and young, Markum did have an aura about him, a certain bewitchment.
Markum slid the book to Lazo. “Ren’s in trouble.”
Ramie almost laughed. Ren was in the dungeon, scheduled for execution, and Markum thought he was in trouble? But when Lazo leaned forward, contrasting eyes, one blue, the other green, intensely focused, Ramie held his tongue.
Markum tapped the book. “The dragon was a test. Ren passed. He’s the Dragon Tamer.”
“And what does that mean, Markum?”
“You saw the silver dragon’s eyes?”
Lazo rubbed his pointy beard. “They were blue.”
“The legend is true, Lazo. When the dragon hunters bring in the silver dragon magic will be reborn.”
Fraul’s gray eyebrows furrowed with worry. “But how is that possible?”
Markum motioned to the book. “The love of the Dragon Tamer.”
Chapter 3
Markum ran through the forest, not bothering to dodge the branches that slapped his skin. The snarl of the huge two-headed wolf behind him spurred him faster. He had no weapon, only the lone book he clutched in his hand. He knew it held the secret he needed to defeat the beast, if only he could stop to read it.
Wolven were one of the most feared magical creatures of all time. Swords were useless against them, for with every cut the wolven became stronger. And if you severed one, two more would form. Not that Markum knew how to use a sword anyway. He was a librarian, not a soldier.
He broke through the surrounding trees and surveyed the clearing with a quick glance. A lake sat directly before him, to the left jagged cliffs dropped to a chasm below, and to the right large boulders obstructed any kind of escape.
Markum jumped into the chilly water, the beast right at his heels. He plunged deeper, arms flailing, praying he could find more strength, but he knew he couldn’t swim fast enough. He swallowed water. His lungs burned. Fire whipped through him as he gasped for air. He clutched his throat, waiting for the inevitable.
His lungs filled with water, but instead of choking he relaxed. Shocked, he realized he was breathing water as if it were air. Markum turned to see a man floating beside him, long black hair reaching to the surface like a plant hungry for sun. His eyes held the knowledge of centuries. They peered into Markum’s soul, analyzing his abilities with a mere glance. Markum didn’t know which to fear more, the two-headed wolf or the man. The man seized Markum’s arm and held him fast as the wolf swam closer. Markum tried to pull away but the man’s grip was too strong. Closing his eyes, he screamed.
And jerked awake.
The torches surrounding the library were almost burnt through. The advisors sat across from him, absorbed in the prophecy Markum had discovered. Lazo looked up from the eerie words, concern in his contrasting eyes. Michel cocked his head to one side, listening as the silence in the castle deepened.
A dragon’s roar sounded in the dawn. Markum and Lazo exchanged troubled glances
Michel spun toward the door. “It’s happening,” he said. The advisors rose without a word. Markum remained in his seat, panic stricken.
They had talked all night about the prophecy and what to do when the time came, but they were far from analyzing every contingency. Quinton had been alerted, along with others loyal to Ren, but no one knew what their role would be, or how they should react. They hadn’t realized the dragon would be captured so soon.
The Chosen’s love will shatter, igniting an inner raging storm, when the dragon will rip open his mind and the power will be born.
Markum finally found his footing and followed the others. Michel darted down the stairs as the advisors hurried to the soldier’s quarters. Markum wanted to help his prince, but he didn’t know how to fight. His cowardice shamed him. Markum stopped in mid-stride, vision blurring. He was terrified, but he couldn’t run and hide. Ren needed to escape. With rising conviction, Markum turned and followed Michel down the stairs.
People streamed through the arched entranceway of Stardom, crying in terror. Someone knocked him back a step. Markum stumbled to the wall and hugged it for support. When he finally made it to the landing the crowd was too thick to pass. Markum scrambled over the railing and fell on a blacksmith’s bench, tipping it over and spilling the abandoned tools.
The silver dragon stood on a pulley, dragon hunters surrounding it. The dragon curved its neck to the sky and bellowed a gut-wrenching wail through its muzzle. Chains surrounded the creature but none were holding it in place. The dragon was free.
The dragon thrashed its tail, knocking wagons cubits into the air, as the dragon hunters threw down their gear in a desperate attempt to find more drug-laden arrows to shoot into the beast. The crowd that had gathered to see the creature now scurried in all directions, shouting fervent prayers to the Maker to save them.
Looking skyward, the dragon wailed another cry, breaking its muzzle with little effort. One of the hunters picked up a nearby lance and aimed it for the dragon’s chest. The dragon shrieked as it reared back to spew fire over the man, instinctively protecting its chest with its wing.
Ren stood between two shocked guards on the far side of the pulley, face twisting in worry. Markum followed Ren’s gaze to a few Crape soldiers standing near the edge of the melee, holding an auburn haired girl between them. Ren twisted, breaking from his captors’ hold, and broke into a run.
The dragon hunter released a cry as he brought the lance behind him. The dragon’s neck coiled like a cord, mouth opening. H
ot fog drifted out, then a hint of fire. But before the lance could fly or the fire could begin, Ren toppled the hunter.
A Crape soldier darted in front of Markum and picked up a dragon hunter’s discarded bow. Bending to his knees, he nocked an arrow and aimed it at Ren. The tainted tip dripped with the sleeping potion. For a dragon the drug could bring sudden cataplexy, but for a man it could mean death.
Markum spun to the blacksmith’s bench and surveyed the scattered tools. A large iron ax lay propped against one leg. Markum quickly gripped the heavy tool and flung it at the soldier. The force of his throw knocked the soldier to the ground and caused Markum to stumble backwards. When Markum regained his footing, he gasped. The ax had impaled the man’s head, killing him instantly. The soldier’s eyes stared blankly ahead and his cracked skull sent tremors down Markum’s spine. Markum fell to his knees, begging the Maker for forgiveness. He hadn’t meant for it to be a fatal blow.
Something in the man’s cerebrum caught the light. Markum’s stomach twisted as he leaned closer. It was a needle, so thin it was barely visible. Markum slid it out only to find two more needles beside it.
For a thorn will go unnoticed by those who reap destruction on the masses and permeate the Lands.
A shadow fell over him. Markum froze, needle in hand, realizing he may never see his prince to show him what he had found. This was the end of the line. He had been discovered.
But when he turned it wasn’t a Crape soldier who greeted him; it was Ramie and Fraul.
Ramie stared at the man’s split skull before his eyes drifted to the needle in Markum’s hand.
- - -
It was a known fact dragons had an inner mode of communication, but as Ren held the dragon hunter down he grew nervous. Had the golden dragon he had helped before spread his scent to the silver? Although his instincts were usually correct, this time his life hung in the balance.
As the silver drew a deep breath, for a split second Ren thought his instincts had failed him; but when he heard the deafening blast he knew the fiery wrath had missed him.
Ren turned to find the dragon watching him with a twinge of annoyance. Its tail lashed back and forth, knocking pieces of the pulley in the air. Ren slowly rose to his feet, the dragon hunter with him. When the man reached for the lance Ren blocked him. The man hesitated before backing away.
People too terrified to move had cowered under wagons and taken cover in the trees. The dragon hunters had retreated, but many were nocking their arrows.
Ren’s eyes sought Aidan. She crouched between the hunters and the dragon, back once again bleeding from her morning torment. Ren took a quick appraisal, seeing again what he already knew in his heart. Aidan was trapped. The dragon blocked all paths of her escape, and if it breathed its fiery wrath at the hunters Aidan would be charred.
The bows were nocked and ready but the dragon had already seen them. Now it was a race against time. The dragon reared back. The dragon hunters took aim.
A sword lay discarded a short distance away. Ren lunged for it just before the dragon spewed fire and landed between the dragon and Aidan. The silver beast bellowed a warning.
Ren grabbed the nearest hunter’s bow, hampering his aim. A few stray arrows shot past, well out of range. One of the dragon hunters shoved past Ren and fell to his knees, arrow aimed at the dragon’s chest. Aidan stumbled forward to stop the soldier but one of the hunters circled his whip around her throat, dragging her back.
Dragon’s fire enveloped the kneeling hunter but the man had already let the tainted arrow fly. It embedded deep in the dragon’s chest. The dragon screamed to the dawn.
Aidan fell to her knees, trying to pull the whip from her throat. Ren brought his sword down, severing the whip and some of her captor’s fingers.
“Are you all right?” Ren asked, kneeling beside her.
She nodded in his shoulder. Her eyes found his. “Hurry.”
Ren spun, desperate to reach the arrow. It only took one arrow to weaken a golden dragon. The silver was much larger, so it would take two or three, but Ren couldn’t delay. The silver needed to escape. Even if Ista knew nothing about the dragon’s ability to awaken the red crystal, Ren wanted the sire far away from Stardom. As he took a few steps forward and lifted his hand to call to the arrow, the dragon turned and focused its uncanny blue eyes on Ren.
Ren thought he saw an understanding flicker in the silver’s gaze, a human understanding. Before he could decipher the change, a shrill scream shattered the air. It was a cry so piercing not even the wails of the dead could compare.
Aidan careened to the ground. No soldier touched her, no wound was on her, but death was in her eyes. Then everything became still. Not even the dragon moved. The air became thicker. Ren dropped to his knees and lifted Aidan’s body in his arms. Her eyes fluttered open. “Something hurts.”
“Aidan? What is it? Tell me what is happening.”
Aidan shook her head. “Ren, please … ” She brought her hand to his face and brushed his lips. “Please.” A fiery desperation lit her eyes, matching the one churning deep in his soul. For a heartbeat he doubted his instincts, doubted the spark in her eyes, but when she whispered his name again he closed the distance and met her lips.
“Blind faith,” she whispered just before her hand rolled limply to the ground.
Ren screamed her name, but Aidan didn’t respond. Her head rolled to the side and her arms went slack. A dusty light hovered above her. It trembled before it slowly began to move. When it touched him a warmth shivered through him. It felt like her smile, the way he felt when he looked into her eyes.
Somehow the light was linked to her. The light was stripping her spirit, taking her from him. He prayed for it to change direction. The dragon roared in pain as the light brushed its silver skin.
Ren suddenly understood. Someone was transferring Aidan’s spirit inside the dragon. Someone was using magic.
He remembered Aidan’s words. He had the broken thread.
He closed his eyes and felt it inside him, churning with anticipation. It was a strength he had drawn from since he was a child yet something he had never fully known. It was a heat, a light, a fire of conviction, and for the first time in his life he held nothing back. He breathed it in, welcoming it to unleash the fury of his emotions. He felt the Quy flood inside him.
The earth rocked beneath his feet. People screamed in terror, but he didn’t hear them. His mind was focused, sure. Finding the dusty light, he commanded it return. Aidan’s spirit drifted toward him, but as soon it moved her silent scream tore through the air. He felt her pain. She was already merging with the dragon. If he forced her back she would be torn apart.
His hopes crumbled. The dragon bellowed as more of Aidan’s spirit seeped through its skin. Ren whispered for her forgiveness. Her spirit would be lost inside the dragon, engulfed in the dragon’s essence. Although her spirit would live she wouldn’t remember. Without her body she would become the dragon. The dragon would be too strong for her to resist.
But if her body went with her …
Ren looked down at Aidan’s limp form. Her hair spilled over his arms in an auburn waterfall. Her eyes were shut as if in sleep. He brought his emotions to the surface and cultivated them to flame. His pain came first, burning hot, blazing through him with angry precision. Then came hate, black as night, incessant and demanding. Then came love, rising through him like a tidal wave: fast, sure, furious.
The emotions roared inside him, swelling with force.
He focused on the light in his mind. He breathed it in, letting it fill him to the point of pain, and slowly began weaving her body in the air, memorizing her shape, her essence. Within a few breaths he had created almost a blanket of her form. It moved above him like a specter before it began seeping inside the silver creature, joining with her spirit, keeping her whole.
As the last of her essence left him Ren fell to the ground. Who had done this? The ground shook with violent pulses, but he rose without pause. Onlook
ers screamed and stumbled away, but the dragon had yet to move. It watched him with an inexplicable perception. Its eyes were slightly clouded, as if the dragon were a twin listening to its other half.
Everything around Ren was vivid, clear, but the screams behind him were far away. His mind throbbed as the Quy’s thread pulsed with his heartbeat and tingled through his body with a vibrant intensity. Where before he felt determination and love, now he felt rage – intense rage. It burned to be released. Someone near him emanated the residue of the power. He saw it in the air: a fine trail of conjuring particles, vibrating more violently than the surrounding atmosphere. The trail led to a downstairs window.
Nothing existed but his target and his rage. He held onto the rage, stroked it, and intensified it. The window shattered at his command. Valor and a deformed woman stood in front of the broken shards of glass. The woman’s hideous features were reforming into a guise she had worn since she arrived at Stardom.
“Release her.”
Ista smiled. “Never.”
Ren gripped his sword and started for the window. Valor shouted for his guards. As Ren broke through the remaining glass he shoved Valor aside and pushed Ista against the wall.
“Tell me how to release her,” he said.
“Tell me the secret of the crystal.”
Ren pressed the sword to her throat, drawing a thin stream of blood. The shouts of soldiers echoed down the hall.
Valor regained his footing and drew his dagger.
Ista smiled. “Join me, Ren. I can clear your name.”
“Never.”
“Pity,” Ista said. “Aidan will never again be whole.”
Two of Valor’s guards grabbed Ren from behind. One guard hit him in the stomach as another beat his hand against the wall, trying to force him to release the sword. Ren kicked the man in the groin, knocking him backward. The man let go, but the other was already there.
“Take him!” Valor demanded.
The dragon roared in fury.
Ren grabbed the thread of light in his mind as his rage built. A sharp crack sounded as he released the Quy with whip-like ferocity. The guards holding him flew backward through the air. Out of the corner of his eye Ren saw a Crape soldier beating Quinton to the ground and another hauling Michel to his feet.
