Onyx of Darkness_An epic dragon fantasy

by Norma Hinkens

  Akolom let out a weary sigh. “I could use a good night’s rest. Without the horses, the remainder of our journey will be even more grueling.”

  They worked silently side-by-side constructing a basic lean-to shelter that would do little to protect them if they were attacked but would suffice to shield them from the cold overnight. When they were done, Erdhan went off to hunt and returned a short time later with two fat rabbits slung over his shoulder. They roasted them over a campfire and brewed some clover tea in a dented cauldron they found amid the rubble.

  Warmed and sated, Orlla yawned and rubbed her eyes sleepily.

  “Go lie down,” Erdhan said. “You too, Akolom. I’ll take the first shift.”

  When Orlla opened her eyes again it was already light out. She sat up guiltily and looked across at Akolom pacing in front of the fire. “You should have woken me.”

  He came to a halt and gave her a rueful grin. “I’m learning old men don’t require much sleep.”

  She shot him a look of reprimand. “I wish you would stop saying things like that.”

  He shrugged apologetically. “Aging is a new experience that has been thrust upon me. I cannot deceive myself. It comes with a lot of limitations—one of which is that our time together is finite.”

  “I don’t need you to remind me of that. I buried my own father not long ago. And right now, I can’t bear to think about burying you too.” Orlla got to her feet and glanced around. “Where’s Erdhan?”

  “Working on breakfast. He’s hoping to raid a nest or two.”

  The faint sound of voices drifted their way. Orlla tensed and locked eyes with Akolom.

  “Make haste and hide!” he whispered.

  Orlla didn’t wait to be told a second time. She scrambled under some damaged cladding from the roof of the treehouse and folded her limbs into herself, trembling like a leaf. Akolom buried himself beneath some debris nearby.

  The voices grew louder and Orlla strained to make out what they were saying. Had the mercenaries hunted them down? They should have taken the time to cover their tracks leading away from the river, but they’d been too distracted with Akolom hovering on the verge of death.

  “Look who I found!”

  Orlla exhaled a shuddering breath at the welcome sound of Erdhan’s voice. Shoving the cladding aside, she clambered out, alongside Akolom, to see Gaunt and Erdhan walking toward them.

  “Thank the Opal of Light!” she cried out. “We feared the worst when we saw your ravaged home. Are you hurt?”

  Gaunt shook his bulbous head. “I wasn’t here when the dragons attacked. I was picking berries several furlongs south when the sky darkened and they flew over. I suspect their shadows spooked the horses. They started whinnying, alerting the dark dragons to their presence.” He glanced down at his berry-stained hands briefly. “I’m sorry, I promised to look after your four-legged friends. I thought they were safe tethered in the dell next to my mule.”

  “The fault is all mine,” Orlla blurted out. “I invoked the forbidden rune and called upon the dragons to attack some fugitives who had surrounded us on the trail. I acted rashly and against my mentor’s wishes.”

  “You kept the dark dragon stone from falling into the wrong hands,” Gaunt responded. “That is what matters most. Now you must finish the task and take the Onyx to the Angladior mountains.”

  “When this is over, we will find you another mule,” Erdhan promised. “I know how much of a friend yours was to you.”

  Gaunt gave an appreciative nod. “He was a faithful companion.”

  “You could come with us,” Orlla offered.

  Gaunt raised his hands in protest. “Macobin has nothing to offer me, and I have nothing to offer Macobin. I will stay here and rebuild my home.”

  “You are welcome to make your home with the Keepers in the Angladior mountains,” Akolom said.

  Gaunt shook his head. “There is much richness in solitude. I am stronger because of it. Besides, my yellow-bellied warbler is companion enough for me.” He rubbed his hands together briskly. “How about some breakfast? Erdhan had no luck, but I can gather us some eggs.”

  “That sounds wonderful.” Orlla smiled warmly at him. “I’ll brew some tea.”

  Erdhan salvaged some biscuits from a basket buried in the rubble and they ate them along with the eggs, washing their meal down with a hearty clover tea while they filled Gaunt in on their narrow escape and their plan going forward.

  “Losing the horses is a big setback,” he said, looking concerned. “Mercenaries can cover a lot of ground quickly. You are welcome to hide out here for as long as you want.”

  “Thank you for your gracious offer, but we must reach the Angladior mountains and destroy the Onyx as soon as possible,” Akolom said firmly.

  “And Orlla and I need to check on our younger brothers in Wilefur along the way,” Erdhan added.

  “You left family behind?” Gaunt asked, sounding surprised. “I thought Brufus pillaged Wilefur.”

  “We left them in a camp in the woods a short distance from the town,” Erdhan explained. “They are safe there for now.”

  “Our biggest challenge will be outrunning Hamend or Brufus if they pursue us to the Angladior mountains,” Orlla mused.

  Akolom looked at her intently. “You are stronger than you realize. If we encounter a situation we cannot out-fight or out-run, we will wield whatever runes are necessary to allow us enough time to disappear.”

  Orlla furrowed her brow. “What about Erdhan? We don’t have enough strength between the two of us to veil him.”

  Akolom sipped his tea thoughtfully. “Do you remember when Erdhan absorbed the blinding light of the light dragon stone and Jubel applied the healing rune and poultice to his eyes?”

  Orlla nodded. “I feared he had been permanently blinded. We were dazzled by the strange intensity of his eyes afterward.”

  Akolom nodded. “At that time, I realized he had been endowed with a special measure of the Opal’s power and protection.”

  Orlla frowned. “You mean the power to rune weave?”

  A strange smile played on Akolom’s lips. “I suspect it is something different entirely.”

  Orlla’s heart began to race as she thought about the shimmering brilliance in Erdhan’s eyes after he’d been blinded by the Opal. She had not had time to stop and ponder the meaning of it—she’d simply been relieved when Jubel’s healing rune had worked. If Akolom’s conjecture was right, the stone had selected Erdhan, just as it had selected her. But why? The only common link between them was their Macobite heritage.

  Erdhan shifted uncomfortably under Akolom’s scrutiny. “I don’t feel any different.”

  “We have no power of our own, only what the Opal grants us,” Akolom replied, with an air of mystery.

  “What power are you talking about?” Erdhan pressed. “Rune weaving is an art that takes decades to master. I cannot possibly hope to wield any form of power without training.”

  “The annals speak of the dragon stones bequeathing a special gift on select individuals in times past. It is not unheard of to be blessed by the light and called to a higher purpose.”

  Erdhan wrinkled his brow. “Why would the Opal pick me, the son of a blacksmith?”

  “I suspect you do not come from a long line of blacksmiths.” Akolom emptied the dregs of his tea on the fire, watching it steam. “I believe you are descended from the dragon riders.”

  Chapter 28

  Gaunt choked on his tea and rammed his stubby fingers into his tufted gray hair, his eyes darting uncertainly between Akolom and Erdhan.

  When Erdhan finally spoke, his tone had a challenging edge to it. “That’s preposterous. The dragon riders died out centuries ago.”

  “No,” Akolom said. “Their line never dies out. But as long as the dragons slept, the stones did not seek out the riders’ descendants.”

  Orlla stared at him, incredulous. “You mean the Opal of Light recognized Erdhan?”

  “And imbued h
im with the singular power to bond with a dragon, if I’m not mistaken,” Akolom added. “The ancient annals tell of the dragon riders of old and their luminous eyes that matched their dragons.”

  Erdhan shook his head slowly. “It’s impossible. My father would have known of such a heritage. The men in my family have worked the forge for generations.”

  “Perhaps the dragon riders were your mother’s lineage,” Akolom said, rubbing his forefinger over his brow in small concentric circles.

  Erdhan frowned, as though considering the possibility. “I don’t know much about her side of the family. Her parents died when she was young, and she rarely talked about them.”

  “We cannot test my theory until we reach the Angladior mountains and the Opal of Light. We must invoke its forbidden rune and call upon the light dragons to find out if you are bonded to one of them.” Akolom got to his feet. “It’s time we took our leave of Gaunt and resumed our journey.”

  The perilous two-day trek back to Wilefur tested their nerves to the limits. They traveled day and night, sticking to the cover of the trees whenever possible. Several times they came close to being discovered by Hamend’s soldiers; once by a patrol combing the forest that bordered the highway, and another time when several mounted horsemen unexpectedly came galloping over an embankment while they were filling their waterskins at a nearby stream.

  By the end of the second day, they were near to collapsing with exhaustion, but Wilefur was in sight at last. “Perhaps we should avoid the town center and circle around to the camp,” Akolom suggested. “We don’t want to run into any unforeseen trouble.”

  “The town is abandoned,” Erdhan pointed out. “Besides, we’ll save time by going directly through the marketplace.”

  Orlla nodded. “If we stay alert we’ll be fine. I want to reach the camp as soon as possible.”

  The road into Wilefur proved to be clear of soldiers, which reassured them, and only a single cart driven by a pair of laborers heading out of town passed by. “Town’s been pillaged,” one of the men said, with a glum look at Akolom’s sack. “You’re wasting your time if you’re looking to trade.”

  They thanked the laborer and once the cart was out of sight continued on their way past the abandoned outlying farmlands. They crested the hill that overlooked the town of Wilefur and stared aghast at the smoking pyre in the center of the marketplace that awaited them.

  Akolom pulled out his crystal lens. “They’re burning the bodies,” he whispered reverently.

  “Who is?” Orlla asked. “Surely not the women and elderly who fled to the camp.”

  “I don’t see anyone tending the pyre at the moment,” Erdhan said, tenting his eyes. “Maybe that’s what those laborers were doing.”

  Akolom scrutinized the scene for several more minutes. “There’s no-one in sight. We’ll take a quick look around the town for survivors and then head out to the camp. Keep a watchful eye out for any sign of trouble.”

  They steered a course along the main street, hugging the shadowy buildings and skirting across the stoops of businesses, disturbing nothing but a stray cat that leapt onto a roof and disappeared. The silence of the abandoned stalls stood in stark contrast to the ominous crackling of the burning pyre as they drew closer. They huddled beneath the tavern overhang a short distance away and watched the pyre in subdued silence for several minutes, covering their faces with their sleeves in an effort to lessen the stench.

  Without warning, two Macobite soldiers clutching long pikes rounded a corner talking with one another in muted tones. Erdhan gestured frantically to a cluster of barrels alongside a sheep pen at the side of the tavern, and quickly dove behind them. Orlla followed suit and turned to wave Akolom over. He hesitated, casting one last glance in the soldiers’ direction before making a run for it. As he darted behind the barrels, his foot slipped, and he inadvertently kicked a rock against the fence surrounding the pen. He flattened himself in the dirt next to Orlla and Erdhan, his eyes betraying the fear that he had just alerted the soldiers to their presence.

  “Did you hear that?” one of them called to the other.

  Orlla gritted her teeth. If the soldiers walked this way, they would be spotted. She cast a searching glance around for inspiration, her eye settling on the sheep pen. “Wait here!” she muttered to the others, then slunk along on her belly behind the barrels until she was only a few feet from the pen. She peered cautiously around the last barrel. The soldiers were walking down the opposite side of the street, kicking open doors and peering behind crates. She took a deep breath and ran in a crouched position to the gate on the sheep pen. Flicking up the latch, she crawled inside and quietly shooed the sheep out. One-by-one, they ran into the street and away from the burning pyre, bleating in confusion. The soldiers yelled and took off after them, trying to cut the herd off before they reached the end of the street. Orlla signaled to Erdhan and Akolom to run behind the tavern, and then jumped to her feet and followed them.

  “We need to leave town before they return,” Erdhan said. “As soon as they discover that latch on the gate isn’t broken and someone intentionally let those sheep out, they’ll be hunting for us.”

  With one accord, they turned and fled into the forest. Erdhan led the way along the trail to the camp, urging them to stay vigilant for patrols as they went. Orlla’s pulse raced as they drew closer. She tried not to think about the fear deep inside her that Samten might be missing once they got there. Knowing him, there was a chance he had deposited Franz back at the camp and then left to sign up with Hamend’s army, despite her explicit directions to wait until they returned. Samten was a free spirit and not one to lie low when excitement beckoned.

  When they arrived at the camp, Erdhan gave a piercing whistle signal to identify himself. A moment later, a woman appeared and gestured them through the curtain of creepers that concealed the entrance to the cave at the center of the camp where the supplies were stored. Inside, women were busy preparing food and caring for young children who flitted around like lightening bugs, while the elderly sat huddled around a fire conversing in low tones.

  Franz was the first to spot them, and he let out a whoop of joy as he dashed over to Erdhan and flung his arms around his brother. Erdhan held him close, eyes glistening with tears as he rested his chin on his younger brother’s mop of blond curls.

  “Promise me you won’t leave me again,” Franz said, the words sticking in his throat.

  “I promise,” Erdhan assured him, exchanging a resolute look with Orlla. “I will take you with me to the Angladior mountains.”

  Orlla’s jaw dropped at the welcome sight of Samten striding over to her. Her brother seemed taller than she remembered him, and he walked with a gait that matched the cocksure arrogance in his handsome face.

  She hugged him tightly. “I wasn’t sure you would listen to me and wait here until we returned.”

  A small smile formed on his lips. “I set a deadline. You barely made it.” His tone was deliberately playful, but Orlla knew he meant every word.

  He raised a questioning brow. “Did you succeed in your mission?”

  Orlla nodded grimly. “Now we just need to reach the safety of the Angladior mountains and find a way to destroy the dark dragon stone once and for all.”

  “Can I see it?” Samten asked.

  “Akolom has it in his keeping, and he is very protective of it. It is unlikely he will let anyone gaze upon its seductive beauty.” She hesitated before continuing, “The lure of the stone is hard to resist.”

  Before Samten could respond, Frieda walked up to them holding her son on her hip. “Come, sit down with your companions, and I’ll bring you some warm broth. We are all eager to hear your news.”

  Once they were settled in around the fire and had partaken of a hearty barley and wild mushroom broth, Frieda turned to Erdhan. “We were overjoyed when Franz arrived back safely. He told us of your mission to procure the dark dragon stone.”

  “We are taking it to the other Keepers in th
e Angladior mountains to destroy it,” Erdhan replied.

  “Can you show it to us?” Frieda asked, her face bright with excitement.

  “It is unwise to lay eyes on the Onyx of Darkness,” Akolom said gravely. “It has brought death, destruction, and darkening of the heart to everyone who has interacted with it along the way.” He furrowed his brow. “No one is immune from its deception, but some are more susceptible than others. For that reason, I have made the decision to keep it about my person until it can be destroyed.”

  Frieda shrugged, a miffed expression on her face. “Is it safe for us to return to Wilefur?”

  “I would advise waiting a few more days,” Erdhan responded. “A couple of Hamend’s soldiers are burning the bodies. I have no doubt they will be on their way as soon as they are finished, and then you can go back home.”

  The older men and women exchanged sorrowful looks with one another, twisting their hands in their laps, while the younger women clutched their babies to their chests. In the background, children shrieked and laughed as they chased each other around the cave, too young to understand how much had been lost to them.

  “Do you know of King Hamend’s whereabouts?” Orlla asked.

  Frieda shook her head. “He swore to avenge the pillaging of Wilefur but beyond that, we have heard nothing.”

  “He and his Kingsmen caught up with Brufus and his troops,” Erdhan explained. “We made our escape during the battle that ensued. I cannot say for sure if either side secured victory.”

  “A man from Essexmount came through here a couple of days ago,” Frieda said. “He told us he’d seen more Pegonian troops heading south and warned us to stay put for now.”

  Orlla exchanged a wary glance with Erdhan. “How did he find the camp?”

  “He said he stumbled upon it.” Frieda frowned. “He looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t place him.”

  “Did he give a name?” Orlla asked.

  Frieda thought for a moment. “Arnulf, I believe.”

  Orlla glanced away, not wanting the startled expression on her face to provoke questions. She couldn’t help but feel relieved that Arnulf had survived the vicious attack by Brufus’s men, despite what that might mean for her. Had he come here to hunt her down, or to make amends?