Jon jumped in. “I get the idea, but even so, elders often have great wisdom. Give them the time and they will share what you wish to know.” He remembered the elders of the village he had been born in. As a middlin, he had felt much the same as Nightmare with regard to the longwinded explanations from his elders. However, unlike the rest of the middlins, he had quickly learned they did not wish to hear his thoughts or questions.
“Maybe later.” Nightmare said with a great huff of air, causing Jon’s hair around his face to dance in its wake. “I am hungry. Let’s go eat.”
“I cannot leave this area until the sun has set.” Jon shook his head, Nightmare was such a middlin despite being a dragon.
“I am hungry now.” The dragon pressed his nose to Jon’s chest and honestly looked like he was pouting.
“Then go hunt. You fly well enough now.”
“Hunt? Why would I hunt when you feed me?” Black wings ruffled with irritation.
“I am no longer going to do that,” Jon stated flatly.
“What? I will starve.” Nightmare wheezed out his nostrils in shock.
Jon laughed. “You will not starve, you are a hunter by nature. Your flying is under control.” Jon put his hands on either side of the dragon’s snout. “You are old enough to feed yourself. In fact, I have obviously spoiled you far too long.”
Nightmare drew up as high as he could. With his neck stretched out in such a manner, he could look down at Jon’s head.
“You are serious. You are not going to feed me? Even if I wait ‘til the sun has set?”
Jon looked up. One of the first lessons the flight master had taught him was never back down from the dragon who bonded with you. He clasped his hands behind him. “I am no longer going to feed you. This is correct.”
“I thought you were my friend.” The dragon lowered and turned his head so they were eye to eye, his expression rather pathetic.
“I am. You are old enough to take care of yourself.” Jon tried to assure the dragon with a gentle pat on its neck.
“Fine.” Nightmare frowned and snorted smoke over Jon in what could only be interpreted as a huff. He took two faltering steps before he leaped into the sky. He flapped his wings a bit harder than needed and wobbled off.
Jon realized as the dragon flew off that he should have cut that string a bit sooner. He had not thought about it because feeding the slick black reptile had never been an issue with his duties until today. He looked over at the body that had hit the ground to see the returned acolytes staring in awe.
“You have work to do, stop your gawking,” he snapped. “Get this body down into the crypts.”
As the acolytes scrambled to do as they were told, he watched as they grabbed the bloodied corpse by arms and legs to haul it down. When the last dragon came in for the night, another priest would be administering the rites for those received into the crypts. A different priest would say the rites over the those delivered to the flight master.
Lady Morana had accepted his suggestion on how to ensure that the dragons knew the taste of mortal flesh and were not appalled by it. He had so far resisted feeding the dead to Nightmare, but he knew one day Morana would test the fledgling and if he refused to eat, she would feed him to the older flight members. She had no patience for a dragon that did not bow to her wishes. How she had convinced them all that she was the true flight leader he did not know. He had seen the flight leader of the black dragons reluctantly obey her every whim. What hold did she have on them?
It was close to dark when the last dragon laid its load gently on the ground, unlike many others, and flew to the caves. He was relieved to set off for his own food and then rest. He passed through the temple heading for the door to the stairs that led to the dragon’ caves. He still shared a cave with Nightmare, but he was fairly certain this would not last much longer with the young fledgling learning to hunt and fight. He had to wonder how many meals the dragon had turned to an acid reduced blob?
“Priest, a moment if you will?” Morana’s silky purr was unmistakable.
Jon turned slowly and went down to one knee, “My time is yours, Priestess Morana.”
“Rise and be recognized.”
He looked up to see a kind smile on her face, which he quickly noticed did not reach her eyes. He decided caution was warranted. He clasped his hands before him and waited.
“Were we able to add any abundance to the crypts?” She moved closer to him, her steps oddly silent.
“We did, milady.” Jon’s tone was polite and measured, but he made sure to maintain eye contact. He saw the High Priestess much like he saw Nightmare; this was someone that you dare not back down from outside of proper respect. “May I ask why we are collecting the intact bodies?” He made sure to keep any speculation or accusation out of his voice. He did not want her knowing he was wise to her plan. He wanted her to trust him enough to reveal it to him. Though he had scoured the library every free moment he had since he discovered her plan to raise an army of undead, he had not found the spell that would allow such a massive undertaking.
“You interest me. Come, we will take a glass of wine and I will tell you why we do not burn them.” She turned, expecting him to follow, and glided to her personal rooms.
Jon was quick to fall into step behind her. He preferred her in front of him versus behind him.
She had him close the door as he followed her into her chambers. She moved to the wine table and poured them each a glass, then held out one for him. He took it, careful not to touch her. He was not ready for that move yet.
They both sat on her couch, Jon upright and formal in contrast to the way she draped herself at the other end facing him.
“Jon, tell me where you come from.” She eyed him, raising her glass of wine to wet her lips.
“I was with the Blackguard of the High Minister.” Jon glanced her way, then back into his own wine glass. It felt as if she was looking right through him.
“Remind me why you left?”
He could feel her deep gaze without even looking at her. “I was assigned to the bloodmines. If you remember, I brought Nightmare to you. I thought it best to disappear with the rest of the dead.”
“Disappear?” she coaxed.
“The dragons that assaulted the mines that night took the dead. I think they ate them. The only body left behind in the enclave was that of the large Black from your flight.” Jon finally glanced at her. “My loyalty to Dethara and you were my priority. Nightmare was my priority.” He hoped this would satisfy her curiosity and pushed to change the subject.
“Why do we keep the dead?” he pressed. His usual stoic way of talking had slipped in the face of what was going on.
She shifted and studied him closely. “I want you to focus just on the well of power within you. Tell me what you find.”
Her instruction was a bit confusing, as Jon could not see how this would connect to his question. He thought she was just evading - it until he focused on the well of power within him, something he had not done for some time. He was surprised with what he found.
“It is greater than it was, as if almost overflowing.” His surprise echoed even in Jon’s voice.
“We have created a pool of necrotic power to draw from. This adds to what Dethara gives us freely. Here, we are stronger. No attack upon the temple will succeed as long as we keep the well.”
Jon blinked back his many questions. Right now, he needed to focus. Finally, he picked the one question he felt safest asking.
“To keep the power of death here, the rites would have to be foregone. That would leave such souls trapped in Dethara’s realm.” He looked at her with great concern on his face.
“I thought you smarter than most, thank you for the confirmation.” She sipped her wine, letting the pregnant silence build. “They are trapped in Dethara’s realm. I came across a spell from an ancient tome that will allow me to reanimate them into an army at my command.”
Jon had expected as much, but hearing her confess i
t stunned him. He took a drink to buy him time. “Milady, with all due respect, what could possibly necessitate such a force? The country is well guarded by the army, and even the Blackguard if needed.”
“There is a time coming when those forces will be raised against us or against the island itself. Until then, the souls serve the one with the spell. Until I enact the spell, they make for that strong pool of necromancy to help increase our following’s power and access to the power that death brings when life departs.” Morana smiled, the cold evil within her reflected in the intensity of her gaze.
“Do you have a problem with this, priest?”
Jon held the horror of what she was doing to the souls committed to the crypts tightly to his breast. “I do not.” He finally managed. “I just am surprised that such things are possible.”
“Good, then tonight I will ensure that the temple knows I have chosen you as my praetor. I have not chosen one since I was forced to kill the last.”
Morana stood and took his drink from his hand. He could not disguise the shake of it.
“You look exhausted. Go and get your rest Jon. Report to me first thing in the morning.”
Jon rose to his feet, his mind reeling from what he had learned. “Yes, Milady.”
“Don’t disappoint me. I would hate to kill a second praetor so soon.” Her caution lay between them until he finally nodded.
Jon left her rooms as fast as he could. Everything he suspected about the High Priestess was true. He wasn’t sure if she was serving Dethara or herself. However, he was smart enough not to rile her to commit a second murder of a faithful.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Alador carefully shifted the egg into a water-filled container that he had fashioned so he could slip his hand in beside the egg to warm the water. He would tie it to the horn of the lexital saddle to keep it close. Alador had an inner knowledge, which he attributed to Renamaum, that he could not travel by spell without damaging the dragon in the egg.
With the arrival of the black dragons, it was imperative to get the egg out of the city. If they were to get close enough, there was a possibility they might smell it and come to investigate. He was grateful that the enormous black monster that flew over earlier did not detect it. Now more than ever, he had to get the egg to Pruatra. However, breaking it away from Nemara, even though she saw the danger too, was becoming a challenge.
“What if she destroys it?” Nemara wrung her hands and looked at Alador with fear in her eyes.
“It is Rena’s egg,” he said softly. He reached up and stroked Nemara’s cheek with his fingertips. “I cannot see her destroying it unless it hatches into some kind of abomination.” Alador carefully tied the bag which held the container. “If it is mine by magic, and not some other mate she had, then it could be defective in some way. Messing with magic can end badly, a fact I have learned the hard way.” He cupped her cheek in his hand and thumbed off the tear that threatened to fall from her eye.
Nemara could still not see clearly, though thankfully she was no longer completely blind. The healer said it would heal in time. Alador felt horrible that he had not foreseen the effects of drawing power from another mortal.
“Some other mate…?” Nemara’s voice trembled. “So you did consider her a mate?” Her eyes met his.
“No, it was a slip of the tongue. I will not lie to you. I loved her. However, it was not the love one would have in a bonded mate.” Alador reassured her gently. He leaned in and kissed her lightly on the lips. “My relationship with you is about as close to having a mate as I have ever come.” He tipped up her chin and held her gaze, her eyes darting left and right as if seeking something in his. He gave her another reassuring kiss and released his grip. The black dragons were absent for the moment; he really had to leave. “I do not feel that I can truly have a mate until I have completed this geas.”
She reached out and clasped his free hand. “What if it never ends?”
“I have seen its end - I know what I must do.” Alador held up the sack tightly in his other hand. “I need to get this to Pruatra so it is not caught in any miscalculation on my part.”
“What if she blames you for Rena’s death?”
Nemara’s grip grew tighter on his hand. Once again, Alador wondered how much of Rena lived on in Nemara.
“It is a chance we have to take, Nemara. There is nowhere else to hide the egg.” Alador raised his hand and pushed a strand of hair out of her eyes with a tender touch. “I feel this as deeply as you feel about its safety.”
She leaned up against Alador’s chest. “Promise me you will do everything you can to keep it safe.”
He stroked her hair and kissed the top of her head. “I promise, Nemara. But, the ultimate decision must be made by Pruatra. I feel instinctively that she will know what to do.”
Nemara sighed deeply and then stepped back.
He shifted the hand that the bag was in; the tie strings were cutting into his hand. “I will be back as soon as I can.”
Alador turned from her and walked away. He needed the egg out of the city. He never had trusted Luthian, but now he was even more concerned. Not only had he seen the huge black dragon land in his uncle’s courtyard, but Luthian’s move earlier to procure him a position of power on the council didn’t make sense to him. His uncle had not done that because he valued Alador’s views - he had something else planned.
Alador quickly made his way to a stable close by, where he had reserved a lexital. He tied the bag securely to the saddle horn, than placed himself in the crook of the lexital’s neck. He stroked the feathered neck raised before him, then gently prodded the bird with his foot, signaling for it to take off. Flying was a cold way to travel, but it was beautiful. He let himself relax and just enjoy the view as they soared over the changing landscape. Regularly he checked around him to make sure there were no black dragons in sight, and then he would lean down to check the temperature of the egg’s water and reheat it if needed.
Finally, the coastline near Pruatra’s cave appeared. Alador turned the bird to find the clifftop where he had fallen when Henrick brought him here to let Renamaum have closure with his family. How close he had come to dying that day still caused a shiver to run down his spine.
He knew the way to the entrance of the cave as well as Renamaum did. He spiraled down until he found the ledge at the opening and landed, then gratefully slid off the lexital’s thick neck. The position on the bird was not one he was accustom to, so he stood bowlegged in pain for a few moments before he managed to shake it off by walking around the lexital a few times.
Once he was steadier on his feet, he carefully untied the bag. He released the lexital and the bird took off immediately. They always returned to their home. Like the birds that migrated each year through the Daezun territories, they always found their way. He would find his own way home via the traveling amulet he carried.
Alador picked up the bag and carefully looked over the edge of the rocky ledge. He found a place where he could levitate down to the water. He did not want to jump for fear of hurting the egg.
He would need to swim in order to get into the underground sea cave Pruatra called home. The egg needed to stay at the same temperature and not chill any further or there would be a chance of harming or even killing the dragon within it. He heated the bag once more, then formed an air bubble around his head, slipping into the sea. The egg weighed him down, but that turned out for the good, because the underwater cave was much deeper than he remembered from his previous visit within Renamaum. Then again… He had seen it through Renamaum’s eyes and the dragon was vastly larger than Alador was as a human. It grew darker as he dove deeper, and he was forced to form a light in his free hand as he descended.
He swam to the entrance and proceeded inside. When he saw light above him, he slowed, dropping his own light. He did not want to startle Pruatra if she was sleeping. The large blue dragon was bound to be angry with him, at some level. There was no sense giving her additional cause to ste
am him to death. He poked his head up carefully. The air bubble popped as he did so.
The dragon was on top of her mound of treasure and seaweed. Her welcome was more of a growl than speech. “You have one moment to explain this intrusion before I see that you never appear anywhere uninvited again.”
“I have Rena’s egg.” He stood in the shoulder-deep water and held up the sack it was housed in as proof.
The dragon’s head rose from her paws, and even on that reptilian face he could see her surprise. “Rena laid an egg?” Pruatra’s long neck reached out to sniff.
Alador walked out of the water and up onto the sandy beach in front of the dragon. He untied the leather sack and carefully withdrew the egg.
Pruatra lumbered to where he stood and tentatively sniffed at it. “It doesn’t smell right.” She looked at him intently.
“I know, Pruatra, I… see… the thing is…” How did he explain this to a towering dragon who could probably fit his entire body into her mouth? “Rena and I… We danced on the wings of power.”
“You danced with power? With my daughter?! With Rena?!” The dragon drew up over him. He had known she was large, but right this moment, she seemed enormous.
“We did not know this would happen!” He held the egg to him to protect it. “She was as surprised as I,” Alador blurted out.
“Let me have the egg,” Pruatra demanded, extending a paw.
Alador dipped his hand in the water of the container and gave the egg a reassuring pat, then withdrew it and held it up to the dragoness. It was the last piece of Rena and no matter what it was… he wanted to keep it alive.
Pruatra took the egg in her talons and carefully sniffed it. “It is alive. I do not know of this ever occurring. It could be…,” her voice trailed off.
Alador looked up at her. Tears glistened in his eyes. “I know.” Whether it would turn out to be dragon like Rena, or by some twist human like him, he had grown to love it. He realized in leaving it in the care of this dragon, that he hoped and prayed it would survive and be something he and Nemara could love.
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