Elias turned around and noticed that Carina was watching him intently.
“I thought you were asleep. Why don’t you rest and I’ll wake you when the soup is ready?” asked Elias.
“I feel fine. I had a nap earlier.” Carina patted the bed. “Elias, come sit next to me. I want to tell you a story.” This was their nightly routine. Carina would tell him a story, and then they would eat and go to bed. Usually, she talked about healing magic, but sometimes she would tell fantastic stories about cities she had visited, people she had met, and journeys she had taken. Sometimes, if Elias was lucky, she would talk about the dragons.
“Elias, I am old. I may not see another sun cycle.” Elias hung his head. He didn’t argue. He knew it was true. Every year she seemed more fragile. “You are a good boy, and I have been blessed to have you by my side for all these years. I have taught you everything I know about healing. I’m sorry I could not teach you more. It is woman’s magic, and I know that you have been ridiculed by the other boys.”
“Grandmother, it’s not that bad, really. They don’t tease me so much.”
“I did the best I could, and I taught you a useful skill. You have a potent gift—much more powerful than mine. It will help you in times of trouble. One day you will understand that. Hopefully, you will get lucky and learn how to focus your powers even more.”
Elias spent his younger years collecting herbs and learning healing lore while all the other boys learned how to hunt. The others also teased him for being “fatherless.” Elias’ mother and father had died during the war, and Carina had raised him. Elias enjoyed learning magic, but he hated being bullied.
The teasing lessened a year ago, when Elias stumbled on an older boy who had broken his leg in the forest. It was Shamus, one of the boys who tormented Elias the most. Shamus had fallen off a rocky outcropping. It was late afternoon and very hot, and by the time Elias found him, Shamus was delirious with pain and thirst. Elias ran to him and saw the bone of his right leg poking out of the skin.
“Shamus, Shamus, can you hear me?”
The boy moaned, drifting in and out of consciousness. Elias squeezed his leg and Shamus yelled, “Auggggh!”
“There! That got your attention. Shamus, it’s Elias.” Elias slapped his face lightly. “Wake up! Drink this.” Elias lifted his water skin to Shamus’ mouth. Shamus moaned again. His lips were cracked, and foamy spittle had formed at the corners. He drank deeply from the waterskin.
“Elias? I—I fell chasing a stag. I’ve been here all day, screaming for help.” His voice croaked. Elias looked up and saw the rocky ledge far above.
“You’re lucky you’re not dead. You should say a prayer to the healing goddess for your good fortune,” said Elias. “Don’t worry… I will help you.”
“I-I can’t walk. I tried to pick myself up, but I cannot bear any weight on this leg.”
“I know it hurts, but I have to set your leg, or you’ll never get out of here. I am going to find you some herbs to dull the pain, and then I will splint your leg. I need to go search for supplies. Here, take this,” Elias said, handing Shamus his waterskin.
Shamus grabbed Elias’ tunic. “You won’t be long?”
“I’ll work as fast as I can. I promise. Soon you will be back home in your own bed. Don’t worry.” Elias patted his hand, copying the behavior that he had seen his grandmother use hundreds of times over the years.
After a few minutes, Elias returned. “Here, chew on this. It’s numbweed. It tastes bitter, but it will dull your pain so I can set your bone.”
Shamus chewed the purple weed with a grimace. “It tastes awful. Do I swallow it?”
“Just chew the leaves and swallow the juice. Tuck the herb into your cheek until the bitter flavor goes away. Spit out the plant or else your stomach will ache. Your body cannot digest the plant fibers.” Elias prepared the branches and the twine. His palms glowed faintly as he tied the vines together, casting a simple spell upon the splint, so that the branches would straighten and hold. He whispered the spell under his breath, careful not to let Shamus overhear his words in the old tongue.
“I am already starting to feel better,” Shamus said.
“Good. That means the numbweed is working. Now we must fix your leg. I’m sorry, but this is going to hurt, even with the numbweed.” He took a leather strap from his pack and doubled it over, handing it to Shamus. “Bite down on this. I am going to set the break. Close your eyes.”
He waited until Shamus closed his eyes. “Now take a deep breath.” Elias grasped the broken limb firmly with both hands. Muttering the old language under his breath, Elias said a healing spell and prepared to set the bone. Shamus groaned in pain when Elias touched his leg, and screamed when the bones snapped back into place.
“Holy Baghra! That hurt. I’m seeing spots,” said Shamus, exhaling deeply.
Elias knew that the spell would work quickly. The bones were already knitting together under the skin. Shamus would be able to walk with a crutch, which was enough to get him out of the forest.
“There—that’s good. Now I am going to put two forked saplings on either side of your leg and bind them with vines. You’ll be able to walk slowly. You can lean on me. I will bear your weight on this side, and we will walk back to the village together.”
Elias offered Shamus his hand, and pulled the injured boy up. Shamus touched the injured leg to the ground and winced. It was painful, but he could bear weight on it.
“Thank you,” said Shamus in a trembling voice. Tears and sweat poured down his face, but he was smiling. He knew the worst was over.
“Don’t thank me yet. We have a long way to go before we’re out of this forest.” Elias helped him walk, and they hobbled back to the village slowly. They had to stop and rest frequently, so it was close to midnight when they finally reached the outskirts of the village. A search party had gathered at the forest’s edge. Some of the men held torches. They all looked anxious.
“Shamus left before dawn this morning! Where could he be? He’s never stayed in the forest this long! He’ll never survive the night—he didn’t even take a cloak. He’s just wearing a tunic.” Shamus’ mother wrung her hands in fear.
Just then, the boys came into view. Shamus was limping, with the much smaller Elias supporting him. “Mother!” Shamus called out, and the men looked up, surprised. The villagers rushed to meet them. Shamus’ mother pushed past the men to embrace her son.
“Shamus! I was so worried. What happened to you?”
“I fell, Mother—chasing a deer. Elias… he found me. He fixed my leg; saved me.”
Shamus’ mother grabbed Elias in a grateful embrace. She kissed his cheek. “Thank you, Elias!”
“An impressive rescue young man!” the men shouted, slapping Elias on the back. Elias smiled. He was tired, but appreciative of all the attention. No one ever fussed over him like this.
Shamus’ older brother stepped in, and helped carry Shamus the rest of the way home. Word of the rescue spread. Shamus’ mother even baked Elias a sweet pastry. After that, no one really teased Elias anymore.
“Elias? Elias? Are you listening to me?” Carina flicked Elias’ hand.
Her gentle reprimand startled him out of the daydream. “Yes, I’m sorry grandmother. I am listening.”
“Tonight, we must wait a long time for the lamb to cook, so I am going to tell you an old story. You are almost a man. Soon you will see your sixteenth cycle, and it is time that you understand our land’s history.” The old woman’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Most are afraid to speak of it, because they dread the emperor’s wrath, but I am an old woman and I have little to fear.”
“Grandmother, do not speak like that. It is bad luck,” said Elias, frowning.
“Bah! What have I to fear? The emperor can do nothing to me here. We are far from his opulent palace, full of slaves and lizard bones! He ignores our people while they starve, so he can collect more dragon trophies for his walls.”
It was rare for
Carina to speak this way. Among her limited magical gifts was the gift of sight, and she felt the darkness that was spreading across the land. Elias felt it, too. People were more guarded, more frightened. But of what? No one could say for sure.
“Elias, when I was a girl, children with magical gifts were highly prized. Mageborns were sent to train in the capital city. From a very young age, they trained as prentice mages. When my parents discovered my magical gifts, I was only twelve. I had started my moon’s cycle the previous month. That is when the magical gifts usually become obvious—after a boy or girl goes through their Changing Time.
“Our family had a pet—an orange cat named Farris. I adored him. One day, some boys threw rocks at Farris and crushed his pelvis. Farris dragged himself home to me on two legs, mewling in pain.”
“I found him, his fur caked with dirt and blood. Broken bones poked through the skin. I cried into his fur and said prayers to the goddess of healing. But I didn’t know any real spells, and my powers were weak. My palms started to glow, but I could not save Farris. I was only able to relieve his pain and stop the bleeding.”
“So what happened?”
“Farris simply went to sleep and died two days later. I gave him a painless death. It was all that I could do. That was many, many moons ago. My parents discussed my magical gift for weeks. Most parents would have sent me immediately to the Temple to train—they would have received a nice dowry for me, and it is best to start training as soon as a child’s gift is discovered. But my father was already a wealthy merchant, and our family had no need for the mage dowry. My mother (your great-grandmother) did not want me to leave. I was very spoiled. I lived a life without troubles or worries.” She looked away for a moment, overcome by emotion.
Elias looked up. Carina rarely talked about her childhood or her parents. A shadow of pain crossed her face. Then she sighed and carried on. “My own grandmother also had the mageborn gift, and she was a powerful healer in her own time.”
“Why did your parents wait so long to start your training?”
“At first, they wanted me to celebrate my coming-of-age ceremony. It was an important rite of passage for young girls back then, with feasting that could last for days. It is rarely celebrated now because most families cannot afford to spend money on such luxuries. In the end, though, my parents had little choice. Just a few years later, Vosper took the throne and the countryside was no longer safe. My parents felt that they could not send me to train in Aonach—they were terrified of the Emperor and his increasing powers. My mother’s premonition was correct. The following year, Emperor Vosper took the throne after assassinating his own father.”
“What happened after Vosper took the throne?” asked Elias. “Was there a war?”
“Not at first. Vosper was ruthless, but shrewd. He never declared war against anyone. He used assassins and dark magic to secure his position. First, he slaughtered his four brothers. Not all at once—but they all died under suspicious circumstances. Then, Vosper took control of Aonach Tower, under the guise that he was ‘protecting’ the mages. He killed any spellcasters who refused to serve him, branding them as traitors. Then he sent soldiers out to scour the countryside for any other mageborns—even children. All mages were sent to the palace under guard. They were forced to pledge fealty to the emperor, or they were executed. Vosper transferred the most powerful mages to his palace, and refocused all their magical training on his own defense.”
“How did you escape?”
“Many of the weaker spellcasters escaped detection. The emperor subjugated the strongest mages when he stormed Aonach, but more than a few of us escaped enslavement. My magical gifts are limited, so I never arose any suspicion. Some mages can only cast a few spells—enough to survive. The mageborn gift is passed through the mother, and as long as there are those who carry the trait, there will always be new mages born. There will always be spellcasters—it’s impossible to eradicate us all.
“I was one of the fortunate ones. I was still young, and not many people knew about my gift. Keeping me hidden saved my life. We fled the city and changed our family name. Luckily, father had saved some money. Those were difficult times.”
“If you fled the city, how did you receive your training?” asked Elias.
“My parents risked everything to send me to Miklagard, the last outpost of the free mages. Miklagard was a poor substitute for Aonach Tower. Only a handful of Masters escaped; those who were traveling away from Aonach during the emperor’s attack. I only trained at Miklagard for five years. Where before, parents had received a mage dowry for their children; now mages were forced to charge fees for training. There are many mageborns who are more powerful than I, but could not afford to train.”
“What did you learn in Miklagard?”
“I learned herb-lore, and how to read simple spells. The Masters discovered early that I had a gift for healing. I also learned how to hide my gift. Most people just assume that I’m an excellent midwife. Those who suspect rarely ask questions. A few times, though, I got careless and my magical gift was exposed. Twice, I have had to leave a village because I feared that I would be reported to the emperor. It’s hard to believe that Vosper would be interested in a feeble mage like me, but you never know. It pays to be cautious. It’s a mistake to underestimate the treachery and greed of your neighbors.”
It was rare for Carina to reveal so much family history at once, and it was obvious that she struggled with the memories, still so painful after all these years.
“I am thankful for my gift and my teaching. It has allowed me to earn a living while so many others have starved. After the destruction of the Temple, most believed that the emperor was satisfied. But Vosper had much higher aspirations than just controlling the mages of Durn. Two years later, he assassinated the Five Kings, charging them all with high treason. Everyone knew that it was a ploy for Vosper to take control of the entire continent.”
“Grandmother, I thought one of the kings survived,” said Elias. “What about King Mitca?”
“Yes… the rebel king. Who could forget about him? Unfortunately for the emperor, Mitca did survive. During the war, he was merely a prince. Mitca was the crown prince of Ravenwood and the only male child of King Galain. The prince survived because Galain sacrificed his own life to save his son’s. Galain discovered the emperor’s plot months before, because he planted a spy in the emperor’s palace.”
“Why didn’t Galain just fight the emperor himself?”
“Galain knew that he wasn’t strong enough to stand up against all of Vosper’s armies and his corrupt wizards. Instead, Galain disguised his son as a beggar and whisked him out of the city with a few of his honor guard. Those men had guarded Mitca since his infancy and, to this day, the surviving members are fiercely loyal to the prince. Galain stayed in the city. A slave boy posed as a decoy for the prince. The city was captured shortly thereafter and the entire royal family was put to death.”
“Vosper didn’t realize that the slave boy was a fake?”
“No. Galain killed himself and the boy in a staged suicide the night before their official executions. The deception was perfect. It was many years before Vosper discovered Galain’s trickery. By then, Mitca had already settled in the Death Sands and established the Rebel Kingdom of Parthos. Vosper’s overconfidence cost him the rule of the continent. Now Parthos is a thorn in his side that will never go away, and every year Mitca grows stronger.”
“How come the emperor doesn’t just attack Parthos?”
“Oh, he has tried! He has tried! But Vosper has failed again and again. The Death Sands are almost impossible to cross, and the kingdom is heavily guarded. Parthos is a huge, well-populated city. The majority of its inhabitants are tribesmen, and they are inherently distrustful of the emperor. Parthos has a majestic fortress, which is carved right into the mountainside. It even has its own water source, an underground spring that can sustain the entire city if necessary. Mitca has his own mages, and the free mages of Mikla
gard are his allies. King Mitca is the emperor’s only real adversary. Plus… Mitca also offered refuge to the last of the Dragon Riders.” Carina whispered the last sentence under her breath.
“Dragon Riders? I thought they were all dead!” said Elias.
“Shhh! Keep your voice down!”
“Sorry, grandmother.”
“The emperor is lying. There are still Dragon Riders. No one knows how many survive—even the nomads who live in the desert refuse to say. The desert people know how to keep secrets. The riders have sworn to protect Mitca, and the Kingdom of Parthos is their last sanctuary.”
“King Mitca is not the emperor’s only enemy. What about Balbor Island?” asked Elias.
“Ah, yes… Balbor, the Island of Death. The inhabitants of Balbor do not pledge their allegiance to the emperor, but they are not Vosper’s enemies. They are independent. The Balborites are mercenaries. Unlike the rest of Durn, priests rule the island, not kings. They control their people with their foul religion, through bloody offerings and dark magics.”
The old woman leaned in close to her nephew’s ear. “Balbor is truly cursed—it is bad luck even to speak of it. Very little is known of their rituals. Some folktales tell us that the firstborn child of every female is dismembered as an offering to their dark god. They are a secretive people and have been so for an eternity. Centuries ago, the Balborites sealed off their only port city. It is impossible to come or go to that forsaken place. If any ship attempts to land on the coastline, their priests destroy it.”
“But you said the Balborites were mercenaries? How do they survive? How do they get supplies?”
“No one really knows. The only people who ever leave the island are trained assassins. They leave alone, by boat, to commit their murders and also report information back to the priests. Balborite assassins command a high price because they are all mageborn and highly skilled. They practice death magic, foul magic. They are the most ruthless killers in all of Durn, and they kill without remorse or regret. They simply work for the highest bidder. Even though Balbor is not part of the emperor’s kingdom, Vosper would be foolish to try and conquer it. Balbor is the island of blackness, a place so full of wickedness that even our greedy emperor does not desire it. He is satisfied to let them be.”
Dragon Stones (Book One in the Dragon Stone Saga) Page 2
