The Mystic drew in a breath of the frigid air and said in a loud voice, “The scrying pool has awakened. I am ready.”
Dhuruhn’s powerful voice responded from somewhere outside, “Then place your hand upon the Pine, and let us see what you have to offer.”
Denaeh took another breath, steeling herself for the shock that was to come. She stepped forward and found a large knot on one of the roots, the bark split away and bearing a bit of the heart wood beneath. Denaeh reached out her hand and placed her fingers upon the smooth root.
Immediately, she felt a rushing sensation pulse through her, as if the ice of the mountain had seeped beneath her skin and flooded her veins. Her breath hitched, and her eyes felt as if they were being stabbed with frozen needles from within. Her free hand clenched, and her toes curled within her boots. She gasped as Dhuruhn’s mind, strong, unyielding, aggressive, brushed against hers, demanding entrance. Denaeh swallowed, forced those memories she could not bear to share back into their distant cell, and opened up her mind to the dragon.
A scene flashed before her eyes, one fraught with wind and blurred colors, the way these visions always displayed themselves. Upon a windswept mountain, surrounded by snow and ice, a great demon spread its wings and yawned wide. Below the monster stood a tiny figure, a young woman with hair of gold, kneeling as if in acquiescence. Behind her stood a woman, her scarlet hair and red cloak unfurling in the unearthly wind. In her hand was a dagger, held high above her head. The demon yawned wider, and an army of great monsters, Morli dragons, lifted to the sky, their battle fury met by dragons far greater than them, Creecemind dragons breathing ice and death down upon the aerial warriors. In the next moment, the dark cloud that was the demon dissipated and became nothing, leaving behind a blank whirlwind of smoke and ash.
That was all Denaeh wished to show the king of the Creecemind, but before she could pry her frozen hand away from the Tree’s root, another scene flashed before her. It was a strange one, a vision of a bright room in a castle, of a young woman cradling a new born baby. The child cried, and the mother crooned at him, hushing him and entreating him to sleep. The windswept vision was suddenly free in Denaeh’s mind, and she could feel the tendrils of Dhuruhn’s mind grasping at it, trying to catch it as if it were a wayward dust mote dancing in the air. With a cry of anguish, pain and terror, Denaeh ripped her hand free of the root, severing the bond before the Tree was ready to release her.
The effect was agonizing, the backlash of raw magic forcing the Mystic to the ground and sending shockwaves of numbing pain up her arm. The ache spread into her chest, causing her breath to come in short gasps and forcing her heart into an unsteady, quick rhythm. Denaeh lay there, waiting for the hurt to subside, and her heartbeat to return to normal. Finally, she felt strong enough to sit up, the bright flash that had accompanied the blast of power fading from her vision.
Slowly, Denaeh stood and climbed back out of the cave, blinking painfully against the bright sun and the harsh wind.
“That was foolish,” the king of the Creecemind growled.
He was hanging onto the side of the mountaintop like a squirrel clinging to the trunk of a tree. His claws dug into the rock with little effort, and his great size made the stairway back down into the city seem like nothing more than a tiny notch cut into the cliff. But, he had nothing to fear. If his grip slipped, all he had to do was push himself away from the mountain and glide back down to his castle. Denaeh, on the other hand, must carefully pick her way down the narrow path and pray she didn’t lose her footing.
Despite her exhaustion, the Mystic was able to flash the dragon king an angry look. “You were given permission to view my visions concerning the human girl and the end of the Tyrant, that was all.”
The king snorted. “And if you had the chance to fish around in your enemy’s head, would you not take advantage as well?”
“I am not your enemy,” Denaeh spat.
The king sneered in disgust. “You are dangerous, unpredictable, and I have no idea where your loyalties lie. You are most definitely my enemy.”
Denaeh did not respond, but clutched her side and began climbing the steep stony path back down the mountain peak.
“Tell me,” the king drawled as he clung to the rock, “who is the infant?”
Denaeh paused in her efforts and shot him another look of anger that bordered on fear. “That is not information you need to know.”
“Well, I demand to know something!” he stormed in response. “All I witnessed was a girl crouched before what could or couldn’t have been the god Ciarrohn. The scene disappeared before I could discern whether or not this girl actually defeats him. Or, if she is even Jahrraneh Drisihn.”
Denaeh paused in her attempt to descend to the next step on the narrow path. All that separated her from plunging to her death was a slab of ice-slicked granite no more than two feet wide. She wanted to press herself up against the side of the vertical mountain peak, but instead she turned and shot the Creecemind king a look of such loathing, it would have caused any other being to quail.
“Our world is in danger of coming to an end. Your people will perish if this threat in the east is not destroyed. The Crimson King has been dormant for ages, yes, but no longer. He is amassing an army, preparing to finish what he started five centuries ago.” Denaeh took a breath, her head pounding from the wind and the aftereffects of her vision sharing with Dhuruhn. Yet, she pressed on, determined to make the stubborn king understand the magnitude of his decision to remain neutral. “Jahrra is the only solution I have foreseen, something I just verified through the Sacred Pine itself. If you are not there to help her and those allied with the Coalition, she will not succeed!”
The Mystic released a great breath, her anger dissipating and her voice softening just a little. The icy wind whipped her hair and her cloak around, making her look like a wild flame burning on the frozen mountain peak.
“Please,” she whispered. “We cannot fight this enemy on our own. He is too powerful, even in his deteriorated state. He has dragons bred for battle and thousands upon thousands of soldiers either willing to take up his banner and die for him or too afraid to do otherwise. If we do not stop him now, while there is still a chance to exploit his weaknesses, then he will grow stronger, and he will come to destroy you and all those who live in Felldreim.”
Dhuruhn gazed at her through narrow, frost blue eyes, his mind working and calculating, coming to some conclusion Denaeh could not guess, despite her skills at mind reading.
“Very well, Mystic, I will aid the girl and her dragon when the time to do so draws near, but only if you will tell me three Truths and three Lies.”
Denaeh froze, the color draining from her face and the hair on the back of her neck standing on end. It was a common custom shared between Mystics of the past, a practice that no longer took place in this desolate world where her kind were all but extinct. A custom only she and her Mystic sisters were supposed to know about.
“That is a practice reserved only for Mystics,” she said finally, her voice wary.
Dhuruhn bared his sizeable teeth in an expression that was more threatening than it was reassuring. “Yes, but here we are, beneath the bows of a Sacred Tree, and you are begging for my help.”
Denaeh pressed her molars together. “So, you stoop to using blackmail then?”
The Creecemind king smiled again, a smug grin that only proved his cunning and sometimes cruel nature.
“Only if I must,” he replied coldly.
Denaeh closed her eyes and swallowed the lump in her throat. To swear to the Truths and Lies ritual under a Sacred Tree meant that she would have no choice but to tell the absolute truth. She could not offer any partial truths or omit information she wished to keep secret. For a brief second, Denaeh was tempted to refuse this dragon and beg Ethoes to encourage him to change his mind. But if the Creecemind dragons refused to help them take on Cierryon, then the allies of the Coalition, including Jaax and Jahrra, would surely perish
. She would have to make this sacrifice in order to earn them the help they needed.
“Very well,” she breathed, clutching at the mountain side even harder, “I, the Mystic Archedenaeh, do hereby swear one Truth and one Lie about three questions you might ask, under the Sacred Pine of Ethoes.”
Denaeh made a strange gesture over her heart, the air around her fingers glowing orange before fading into the wind.
Dhuruhn sharpened his expression, then opened his mouth to speak. “I, Dhuruhn, king of the Creecemind and sovereign of the realm of Felldreim, do hereby swear to receive one Truth and one Lie for the three questions I am about to ask of the Mystic Archedenaeh, under the Sacred Pine of Ethoes.”
The king, too, made a similar gesture, and when the orange glow of the magical oath faded, he filled his lungs, then released the air in a stream of ice powder that dusted the sky like fine sugar.
He remained silent for nearly a minute, carefully considering his first question. Denaeh expected the dragon to ask her about the last vision she’d had before severing the connection, but to her surprise, he set aside his own personal curiosity and focused instead on those questions that might help his people.
“My first question is, does the girl Jahrraneh Drisihn accomplish what the Oracles prophesied she would?”
Denaeh gave him a harsh look. “You witnessed my vision earlier, yet you waste your question on something you already know?”
Dhuruhn bared his teeth at her. “I saw a young blond woman standing before a menacing shadow. To assume it was the girl Jahrra fulfilling the prophecy would be foolish. I will have you tell me the Truth, and the Lie, now.”
Denaeh thought about her answer, then said, “I will tell you the Lie first: Jahrraneh Drisihn will kill the Crimson King.”
The king gritted his teeth, but said nothing.
“And now for the Truth: Jahrraneh Drisihn will sever the connection Ciarrohn has to this world.”
“You contradict yourself, Mystic,” Dhuruhn stated. “You are sworn under an oath!”
“And the magic sealing that oath prevents me from deterring from it!” Denaeh snapped back, the gusts tearing past the mountaintop snatching her words and scattering them on the wind. “You must listen carefully if you wish to gain your knowledge.”
“Very well,” Dhuruhn grumbled, “my second question, then. Tell me more about the dragon Raejaaxorix.”
Denaeh started. She had not expected that question.
“I have known him for many years, but I have never trusted him, and I have heard many whispers,” the Creecemind king continued. “I will know what is truth and what is false now.”
“What sort of whispers?” Denaeh asked, her tone hard and demanding.
Dhuruhn sneered. “Ahhh, but I never promised to answer any of your questions, so if you would, please, who is this Tanaan dragon?”
Denaeh’s foot slipped, and she shot her hand out, taking hold of one of the stray roots from the Sacred Pine. Once she’d regained her composure, she said, “Here is my Lie: the dragon Raejaaxorix has no real reason to aid Jahrra in her quest. And my Truth: the dragon Raejaaxorix has no family remaining in this world.”
Dhuruhn glared at her and spat, “That is conveniently vague! Do you play games with all who encounter you?”
Denaeh glowered right back. “You are the one who wished to participate in the ceremony of Truth and Lies! All that is required of me is to give you one Truth and one Lie based on your questions. It is a gamble, and you knew that before swearing the oath. Do not complain when it does not go your way.”
The Mystic readjusted her grip on the tree root and felt a tremor of warmth pulse through her. She looked up at the stunted, hardened Pine several feet above her and narrowed her eyes. That was strange.
When she returned her attention to the Creecemind king, she found his expression to be one of barely controlled anger. For a moment, she thought he might breathe a stream of ice down upon her and freeze her to the side of the mountain, but he closed his eyes and willed his temper to pass.
“So, his parentage cannot be traced,” Dhuruhn said with some irritation.
Denaeh considered the king of Nimbronia with narrowed eyes. What was it he wanted to know about the Tanaan dragon? Jaax was incredibly private and secretive, and if he didn’t want someone to know his business, they wouldn’t know it. And those he opened up to were loyal without a fault and would never betray him. She was one of those people, even though he had lost faith in her long ago. Denaeh’s heart sank just a little. Earning back the Tanaan dragon’s trust was one of several wrongs she was determined to right before the end. But at this moment, she needed to earn this dragon’s trust, and she feared she had only managed to anger him so far.
The king of Felldreim shook his head, peeling Denaeh away from her inward thoughts. She braced herself for his final question.
“Then, tell me, since I know there was far more to the vision you showed me when we first arrived here, what will happen to all those concerned once the Tyrant is defeated?”
Denaeh swallowed and drew in a shuddering breath. She had feared this question; had hoped the Creecemind king would not think to ask it. But, he had.
“I have seen the end, at least, I’ve seen the possible ends but I can only tell you what was shown to me. I cannot interpret it, nor can I assure you my visions won’t change as factors change and players in this awful game fall to the shadows or take their rightful place as the time draws near. All I can tell you is what I do know for certain.”
“Very well, I will take those certainties since you chose not to share them with me earlier.” The king’s voice was bitter and accusing, but Denaeh didn’t care.
“Your Lie, your grace, is that Ciarrohn can be wholly defeated without your help.”
Denaeh let the king digest that, to turn it over in his head. She had seen no visions in which Jahrra succeeded without the aid of the Creecemind dragons, and Dhuruhn needed to know that.
After a few moments, the dragon nodded, only once and very indistinctly. “And your Truth?” he pressed, his voice finally losing its patronizing edge.
Denaeh reached for another stray Pine root, grasping it firmly in her hand, seeking out the natural warmth the wood offered. Her hair was a tangled mess, and the cold wind had finally worked its way down to her bones, but those thoughts were not the ones that occupied her mind. She would tell the king of her vision, the one she had seen the most above all others, the one she was sure would come to pass. The one she prayed Ethoes would change, if just one, simple aspect of it.
Taking another shuddering breath, the Mystic faced the king of the Creecemind and met his hardened eyes with her own topaz gaze.
“Your final Truth.” Her voice was almost a whisper, and it shook slightly. “If your people aid Jahrra in her final confrontation against the Crimson King, then Ciarrohn will be cast from this earth, his hatred and intolerance destroyed, his curse upon the Tanaan reversed.”
Dhuruhn smiled, and if Denaeh didn’t know any better, she would say that beneath his rough exterior, he actually cared about the fate of the world. However, his smile faded when he took a good look at Denaeh’s face.
“There is more, isn’t there?” he asked.
Denaeh nodded, her complexion strained and pale.
“Yes. Jahrra will succeed with your help, but there will be many deaths, and the one loss I have seen in every vision has been that of a dragon.”
Dhuruhn eyed Denaeh, his attention sharpening once again. So, the Oracles had been honest with him those many years ago. He would lose his own life in the fight against the Crimson King. But would his queen perish? His son, his daughter? He hoped they would not, but he knew now that he and his Creecemind dragons must fight the evil that Cierryon was. Not only had he given the Mystic his word in exchange for her Truths and Lies, but his conscience could no longer bear the burden of such a dishonorable act. To sit safely in his castle while the rest of the world fought to save itself was cowardly and selfish.
He was harsh and unyielding at times, but neither selfish nor cowardly. But, he would have Denaeh tell him once and for all if his legacy would end in the east, fighting for the freedom of all those good citizens of Ethoes.
Taking a deep breath, the king of the Creecemind asked, “Who? Who is it that is sure to be lost?”
Denaeh didn’t respond for a long while, and he wondered if she hadn’t heard him. Just as he meant to ask his question again, she stirred against the sheer side of the mountain peak.
“When I see the survivors standing around in the aftermath of the battle, many come and go,” she breathed.
Dhuruhn narrowed his eyes, focusing in on the side of her face he could see. If he didn’t know any better, the Creecemind king would have sworn he saw a tear track down the Mystic’s pale cheek.
“But,” Denaeh continued, her voice weak and trembling, “the only one I never see standing among those who remain in the end is the dragon Raejaaxorix.”
Pronunciation Guide
Archedenaeh – ark-uh-di-NAY-uh
Armauld – ar-MALD
Beihryhn – bay-REEN
Boriahs – bor-EYE-iss
Cahrdyarein – CAR-dee-uh-rain
Ciarrohn – CHI-ron
Cierryon – CHAIR-ee-on
Dathian – DA-thee-en
Dervit – DUR-vit
Dhonoara – DEN-or-uh
Dhuruhn – doo-ROON
Ea1rhe1hn – AIR-ayn
Ea1rhyut – AIR-ee-oot
Ellyesce – EL-ee-ess
Erron – AIR-un
Ethöes – ETH-oh-es
Felldreim – FELL-dreem
Gl1r1ant – GLEER-ee-ant
Hroombramantu – HROOM-bruh-mon-too
Hrunahn – HROO-nan
Jahrra – JARE-uh
Kehllor – KELL-or
The Ascending Page 49
