Matra could never remember ever having taken so long to pass through the void, but he had always flown through before. Now he was walking and with a large body of men, he had to keep his mind on the exit point. If he lost sight of it all would be lost. There was no visible path to follow, just a thin strand of silvery light that only he could see, a thin thread that spiralled through the void spun by his spirit, from one point in the real world to another. It was a process even he did not fully understand but knew merely by instinct.
A feeling of unease came over him, a sense of being followed. He stopped, listening, telling Jason to quiet his men. He caught a faint far of sound from behind; long moments passed as they stood silent. The horses looking around wide-eyed and the men shuffled nervously, looking at themselves and avoiding looking out into the inky black that surrounded them. Jason came forward, asking Matra if everything was okay. He shrugged, not having heard any more sounds and set off again. It wasn’t long before the shaft of light grew brighter and brighter until a hole appeared which seemed to fill their vision with sand topped with azure blue sky. The men began to relax as their destination drew near, then they were out in the sun. The light blinded their eyes after the eerie darkness of the void. Behind them, the black disc wavered and faded out of existence. Matra shapeshifted again, flying in the direction he last saw the princess and her abductors. The sun was near setting again before he located them; they had turned east and were moving at a punishing speed.
At last, the Paenalirs stopped to make camp, putting up their tents and settling themselves in for the night. Emeldra didn’t think she could move another step, all she wanted right now was to lie down where she stood and fall asleep, but she doubted their captors would let them rest yet.
She watched as one of the Paenalirs approached them. From the headband he wore, he was a clan leader. He stopped in front of them, eyeing them up with lecherous eyes. His gaze fixed on Emeldra, falling on the exposed flesh of her legs where her dress had torn and travelling up her body to rest on her cleavage. Emeldra shivered, feeling as if she had been violated mentally, if not physically.
She stiffened her resolve in spite of her exhaustion and faced him defiantly. He began shouting at her and spat on her face. Emeldra shook with rage; she could not understand what he said but shouted insults back at him. He grabbed her arm and slapped her across the face; the heartstone which until now lay hidden inside her bodice fell out.
The Paenalir stopped and gaped at the stone then reached out to snatch the chain. Suddenly the stone flared to life. With a fiery red glow, a burst of raw energy emitted from it, hitting the man in the chest, sending him sprawling on the ground. He writhed in pain for a few seconds while the effects subsided.
The dark-skinned women who had been watching passively suddenly moved to stop the Paenalir as he rose with his knife in hand. Emeldra heard someone shouting, and she could see a tall sandy-haired man coming towards them, his face was scarred, and he walked awkwardly.
It didn’t need the fact that all gave way to him for Emeldra to realise this was the new chieftain of all the Paenilars. She also knew that he was Var Firedragor.
“Well, Princess, we meet again. I can see that you recognise me,” he smiled ruthlessly and momentarily turned, shouting at the Paenilar in his language. The man put his knife away and quickly disappeared back to his men.
“I am sorry for thy inconvenience, Paenilars are somewhat barbaric in their methods, but no harm will come to you while I am around,” he said, still smiling.
“Matra will make you pay for this, Var Firedragor; he warned you what would happen if you returned,” Emeldra said defiantly though she shook inside, his presence was almost overpowering as his eyes turned from blue to red, enhancing the aura of evil around him.
“Oh, but I kept my word. I did not return, I simply waited until you were outside Ladlian to take you.” He laughed maliciously.
“Would you like to be set free, Princess, you and your pretty little maid? I could free if you wish?” he asked, no longer smiling but with a look of false concern.
“Free to roam the desert until we die of thirst?”
“No. Would I do that, Princess? I would see thee safely escorted to the young knight who so gallantly tried to defend you, he is not far now.”
Emeldra’s heart leapt. Jason and his men were not far away, maybe Matra too. There might hope yet. Var shook his head at Emeldra as he spoke again.
“Do not raise thy hopes over much, Princess. If your bold knights try to attack us who knows what may happen? I cannot be responsible if my men get over-enthusiastic in the heat of battle,” Var said, his tone menacing. Emeldra’s heart filled with dread. Beside her Senion began sobbing. She put her arm around her comfortingly, stiffening her back. She was a princess and would die like one if need be.
Now she needed to know what Var wanted from her. Something she might yet use as a means of obtaining their freedom. No matter how slim the chance it may be, she had to find out.
“What is it you want from me, Firedragor?” Emeldra tried to mask her thoughts as she spoke.
“Fangdragor was quite clever in giving you the heartstone. You know of course that no one can remove it. And if they try to harm you, they will suffer a worse fate than the Paenilar who tried to take it from you.” Emeldra waited as he paused; she thought him clearly on the verge of insanity, needing very little to push him over the edge.
“Of course, I think I can probably break the stone’s protective enchantments eventually, and then I can have you for myself.” He paused, an evil grin again spreading across his face. “You know what happens if a dragon in human form takes a woman?” he asked, still grinning.
“Get to the point, Firedragor, I’m tired of your taunting.” Emeldra forced herself to be calm even though her skin crawled at the site of him. She would have preferred the Paenilar’s lecherous looks to the looks Firedragor gave her. He seemed to realise the effect he was having on her and was pleased by it.
“Very well, then know that Fangdragor intends to take you himself, and if he does, you will die, screaming. I know, I have tried it with several human women. They all died the same way. At the height of passion male dragons release energy that the female dragon absorbs. A human female can’t. I’m sure you can guess what happens then. I will leave you to think about it,” he said, reading her thoughts in spite of her attempts to block him.
“We will talk more about this later Your Highness,” he said bowing, mockingly as he left. The dark-skinned women pulled them towards one of the tents. Emeldra noticed something different in their expressions but felt too horrified by what Firedragor had said to take any notice.
Emeldra sat alone in the tent. Paenilars had taken Senion, and she feared what they might do to her. The dark-skinned women stood guard outside the tent making any thought of escape impossible. Also, she was tied to a post her by her hands, though somewhat loosely to allow some freedom of movement: nevertheless securely.
Her thoughts kept returning to what Firedragor had said; she knew that Matra liked her. She at once realised the truth of her feelings towards Matra. Others had said as much to her, but she had refused to listen. Her father had implied it and had tried to send her away. Senion also had seen it, now she could admit it: she loved Matra. As she knew he must love her, doomed though it might be from the beginning.
Did he know what would happen if he took her? The thought alarmed her. She pushed it aside: of course he didn’t know. Matra would not let himself become involved if he knew what the outcome might be. In spite of all his foretelling of future events, he was as blind as her when it came to love. Tears rose up unbidden, tears that stung her eyes and burned her cheeks. Her whole body shook uncontrollably. For the moment she gave way to despair.
“Can you contact her yet?” Jason asked Matra, his face creased in a worried frown; darkness was almost upon them.
Matra could still make out the lines of worry on his friend’s face, his expression echoing his co
ncerns. He cursed himself for a fool. For all his power he could not help the princess when she needed him the most. He had foreseen these events and what might yet happen but was powerless to stop them. They could attempt a rescue which might succeed or which might lead to he did not know what. Her death possibly, yet there was something else, something that nagged at him telling him he must at least try and truth to tell, he would feel less honourable a dragon, or man, if he didn’t try. First, though he must be able to contact her to warn her, to give her something to hope for. The red dragons were still cloaking them so that no magic could penetrate but he felt sure they had to drop the shield soon to rest.
“They are still shielding, but I think they must rest soon,” he replied worriedly.
“That would be a good time to attack them.” He looked expectantly at Matra scrubbing at his face in frustration. “Damn it Matra, we can’t just follow like mice, we must attack, rescue Her Highness and her maid. We must make those devils pay.” Jason stood from his crouching position, striding down the dune to his men.
Matra followed, stopping Jason before he reached them. “We will, Jason, but not tonight eh? We must make sure the princess and her maid are safe first.” Jason nodded his acceptance, tension fading from his face though not happy still. “I know, my friend, I know, I must learn patience. It’s always been a failing of mine to charge in head first without thinking.” He smiled wanly, clasping Matra by the shoulder.
“Especially when there is a pretty girl involved,” Matra replied, smiling back as the two returned to the waiting knights.
Emeldra, no longer tied to the tent post although her hands were still tied, sat on the ground, still in the depths of her despair. She looked up as one of the dark-skinned women entered the tent. She sat down in front of her, studying her closely.
“I’m Hedra, maiden of the Amadons. I’m sorry you have been mistreated in this way.” Hedra paused, seeming at a loss as to how to continue.
“Your people didn’t seem too bothered at first, why so concerned now? If you care, help us escape.” Emeldra found the woman’s broken Ladlian accent hard to follow but understood the gist of what she said.
Hedra shook her head and seemed embarrassed by her position. “In my country, women usually kill themselves rather than be captured by others. It is considered how you say—very bad. It is frowned upon. A woman captured like you in my country would do her utmost to die, attacking her captors no matter the odds. Even were she to escape she would kill herself in shame, first chance she got,” Hedra said pride in her people showing on her face.
Emeldra pursed her lips considering. “So, to be captured is the worst humiliation that can happen to you and means your life is forfeit” Emeldra summarised, beginning to understand the Amadons’ attitude. Hedra nodded in confirmation.
“We must talk quickly, the lord dragon may come soon.” Hedra peered out of the tent, speaking briefly to one of the maidens on guard. “He will come to speak to you again soon. Do not trust what he tells you,” she said, standing to leave.
“Why have you told me this now? Why are you here helping these people and the red dragons? It is obvious you hold everyone else here in contempt. You don’t like what you’re doing, I can see that much,” Emeldra asked before Hedra could leave.
“We didn’t understand your people are different, have different beliefs. The Paenilars are our distant relatives. They told us things about you and your people that we at first believed, trusting them. Now we know that is not so, they deceived us and are no better than the Adion.” She again peered out to make sure the coast was clear. “We also thought you weak at first because you did not try to kill yourself like one of us, but then you showed great courage. I believe you are not weak, are no coward. Also you have the protection of the dragon charm.” Hedra pointed at the heartstone. One of the maidens outside whispered a warning and she quickly left through the rear of the tent without saying more.
Chapter Eighteen
“Well, Princess is thy accommodation to thy liking?” began Firedragor, entering the tent. Emeldra remained silent as he sat close to her. She cringed inside but tried not to show any reaction as he studied her dispassionately.
“Not speaking. I did not think thy accommodations were that bad? Perhaps you do not like the maidens; I would not blame you for thinking so. They are an unusual and savage people, you know. They do not like men very much and could easily kill every man here quite cheerfully. Of course, like the Paenalirs they think dragons are gods so I am quite safe,” Firedragor said in a conversational tone, his demeanour one of smug confidence as he appraised the princess. Emeldra thought maybe he knew about Hedra’s visit and was trying to crush even that hope from her.
“Oh, and do not worry about your maid, she is in good hands,” he added with a malicious smile.
Emeldra looked up, anger getting the better of her. “What have you done with her, you monster? You are not even fit to call yourself a dragon, let alone human. You debase your own kind,” Emeldra shouted. She pulled at her ropes, trying to break free. Blood flowed from the torn skin around her wrists, dripping onto the sandy ground. Firedragor waited until her anger subsided.
“Really, Princess, thou must learn to control thy temper. Oh yes, your maid. I’m afraid the Paenalirs want to sell her as a slave. Of course, they will have their sport with her first. I am afraid I canst stop them. It would be asking too much, you understand,” Firedragor said. Still smiling, he reached out a hand and touched Emeldra’s cheek, brushing a tear from her eye.
“There, there, Princess. Don’t cry, I will not let them touch thee even if they could.” He paused as Emeldra flinched at his touch. “I am going to have you all to myself, and I’m going to make Fangdragor watch once I have defeated him,” he hissed, leaning close to Emeldra.
“Never,” she shouted in hopeless rage. “You’ll never take me, I’ll kill myself first. Matra will defeat you, he’ll tear you limb from limb and leave your carcass for the vultures to feed upon,” fighting back the tears from her eyes and shaking with fury.
Firedragor leant back and laughed. His shape wavered, almost returning to his true form before he brought himself under control again. “Of course, as I said before I can spare you this, all you have to do is tell me Fangdragor’s secret of shapeshifting. How he manages to make his human form so convincing,” he said in a more serious tone.
Emeldra tried to hide the surprise from her face and began thinking furiously. She had never given much thought to Matra’s human form being so real before. Now, looking at Firedragor, she wondered herself how he did it. If Firedragor thought she knew then it was something she might yet use as a bargaining chip.
“Why should I believe you would let us go if I told you?” Emeldra asked, trying to keep her face blank, but she must have given away something in her expression as Firedragor frowned and nodded, his face brightening with malicious glee.
“Ah! Maybe you do not know either. I could probe your mind, but that might invoke the heartstone’s power. Perhaps a more subtle approach might work,” he said, becoming very still, almost like stone, his face twisted into a mask of concentration.
Emeldra almost shrieked aloud as she felt the faintest touch of Firedragor’s mind in her own, unable to use her magic because of the dampening constraints of other nearby dragons loyal to Firedragor. Emeldra could not shield against him. The heartstone began to glow. casting an eerie red light in the tent. She hoped it would strike him down, but he quickly withdrew after only seconds of brushing against her mind.
It was more than enough for Emeldra. She felt defiled and raped in a way far worse than if he had done it physically, but she learnt something from it too, for he had left the smallest of cracks in his defences, enough for Emeldra to glimpse the extent of his insanity. She felt sickened by that insight as Firedragor’s mind was so warped and filled with hatred for humankind and even to some extent his kind. But there yet remained a spark of honour and respect, at least for dragonkind. He st
ill believed what he was doing was for the good of all his kind, but this too was gradually being eroded by his self-interest and greed for power. Emeldra shuddered and blinked as if awakening from a trance.
“So, Princess, truly you do not know but wait. Maybe you do and do not yet realise it. Yes, that could be it. It does not matter, I will have the secret if not from you from Fangdragor himself. Rest now, Princess, while you can,” Firedragor finished, his tone almost sounding sympathetic so that Emeldra felt surprised by it. He stood and left, leaving Emeldra alone with her thoughts. After several minutes alone Emeldra heard voices outside then Hedra entered.
“Princess, we have spoken with your maid,” Hedra began in a low voice.
“You’ve spoken to Senion? Is she all right? Tell me, please?” Emeldra interrupted, standing, daring to hope that Senion may have fared better than herself. Hedra’s expression was grim, and she hesitated to answer. Emeldra sagged and sat down again, anguish showing on her face.
“I’m sorry, Princess, they have used her badly, and she has withdrawn within herself. They have been careful not to mar her beauty though, as they hope to sell to her to the slavers,” Hedra said, her tone regretful. She clasped her hands round Emeldra’s, her dark eyes fierce in their intensity. “Fear not, Princess. We have been led astray by the evil one but no longer. The evil ones have dropped their cloak of shadow as they need to rest. We have devised a plan to get you and your maid out.”
Hedra suddenly fell into stunned silence as the heartstone glowed round Emeldra’s neck and a ghostly shape appeared before them.
“Matra!” Emeldra gasped, her heart lifting at the sight of him even though she knew it was only his soul focus.
“Your Highness, Emeldra.” Matra’s disembodied voice shook with emotion as his focus looked at the princess. Her face was burnt and peeling, as were her arms and other exposed parts of her skin; lips cracked and puffy, and her once-beautiful hair was flattened to her head, matted and dirty. Blood dried around her wrists and arms where she had struggled against the ropes that bound her; her clothes were dishevelled and torn.
Dragon's Heart Page 13
