by Jordan Baker
"Thank you, Toren," Ehlena said. "You can put me down, now."
"Aye," he said as he let her down, resisting the urge to keep holding her. "I suppose it has been some time since your were too big to carry around in my arms."
"I don't know if you meant to say what you just did, but I know you were never much for sentimentality, so I will try not to be too offended," Ehlena teased, doing her best to smile, but Toren could see the tired look in her eyes and, having caught a glimpse through glamour that hid her illness, he knew that she was pretending to be stronger than she was.
"It is nice of you to join us, Ehlena," Carly said.
"Carly," Ehlena greeted her. "I am glad I found you, and that you have brought so many with you."
"I heard your whispers on the waves," Carly told her, then she put a hand on her hip. "You are aware that the winds have been wreaking havoc upon the seas."
"Yes, I know," Ehlena replied. "It could not be helped, and I hope no one has been lost to it."
"I sent a few stranded fishermen back to shore on a wave or two, but no one has been foolish enough to venture out on the water since the storms began," Carly said.
"Why have you sent such winds to Aghlar, Ehlena?" Toren asked.
"I did not send them," Ehlena replied. "They are echoes of the power I used when we fought the shadow at Elvanar. I did what I could to keep the winds from spreading, but they should die down after a time. I will try to make things better."
"Well, we are here now," Toren said. "What is it you ask of the people of Aghlar?"
"We make war upon the Xallan Queen and the power of the shadow," Ehlena told him. "But if we are to sail these ships to Maramyr, there is something I must do, or the waters will not be deep enough."
Ehlena turned and looked ahead toward the dark clouds to the north, and she used her power to stir them, then she called a cool wind from the north and a warmer one from the east, laden with mist and moisture from the warm bogs. A rumbling sound echoed from the distant sky and the wind around the fleet of ships became almost still, save for that of their own movement.
"Perhaps a little calm before the storm," she said with a smile, then she fell forward, unconscious and Toren caught her in his arms once more.
"What is wrong with her?" he asked Carly.
"It is the poison of the shadow," she said. "Let's take her belowdecks where she can have some privacy."
"Right," Toren said, and he picked her up and carried her past his crew, who were all staring. At the door to his captain's quarters, the Aghlar king stopped and looked around at the men and women under his command. "A fell power has harmed one of our own, an offense against the Lady herself, and we sail forth to answer that challenge. Keep faith, for the strong winds will take us onward, while the waves dance beneath our feet."
"Aye Cap'n!" the crew cheered as Toren nudged open the door to his cabin with his foot and carried Ehlena inside.
"Lay her down," Carly said, pointing to a cushioned sofa by the wall. "I will see what can be done."
"And what of the ships?" Toren asked as he placed Ehlena upon the cushions.
"I made this river," Carly told him. "I know its path. Though you might want to ready some lanterns, for night will fall soon and it would not do for the ships to collide in the dark."
"I will see to it," he said. "Can you truly help Ehlena?"
"I can try," she said, as she touched her hand to Ehlena's forehead. "In truth, fire is the only sure way to destroy the power of the shadow, but that would likely destroy her. Water is not without its power, and I will do what I can to cleanse her of this poison, but I fear that it has now become a part of her essence."
"Speak in plain terms," Toren said. "I am merely a king of sailors and know little of the ways of magic or the gods."
"In plain terms, it means that Ehlena may be dying."
Toren stood for a moment, staring at the young woman who, not so long ago had been a happy and vibrant girl, now swept up in a world of gods and war, a path that had seemed a blessing, but now appeared to be a curse. He, along with all of the Aghlar people had been elated and proud when the Lady had chosen Ehlena to be not only her priestess but to be one with her, but now Toren understood that the gift of godhood came with a heavy price, and part of him wished that it had never happened at all.
"You speak the truth of this," he said, his words merely thoughts spoken aloud.
"Aye, Toren," Carly said, though she knew he did not doubt what she had said. The dark shadows lurking behind Ehlena's pale skin and how weak her body had become made it painfully obvious.
"Had I the power to reverse the flow of time the way you have turned the current of this stream, there are things I would have done differently," he said. "Perhaps it is not such a blessing to be chosen by the goddess."
"It would not matter, Toren," Carly told him. "We face a god who is using the ancient power of the shadow to enslave the people of these lands. No matter what choices you would have made, or things you might have done differently, the shadow will come, unless we fight, here and now. Ehlena knows this, and she accepts such things, and that was why she was chosen."
"The power of this shadow is fearsome enough to claim the life of a goddess. How will we mere mortals fare against it?"
"Toren," Ehlena said, stirring and her tired eyes opening a crack. "You cannot fight the shadow, but you can weaken its power by fighting those who serve its power and by saving the people of this land. The lives we save are the life of this world."
"We are warriors," Toren said. "Our weapons are made for taking lives."
"But why do you fight?" Carly asked.
"To protect our lives, the lives of innocents, our homes and our free domain to sail the open seas," Toren said.
"What of those who are enslaved? What of their lives? What of those who are forced to serve those who would enslave others and take away the freedom of their domain and, eventually yours? Each and every life is a part of all things." Ehlena saw that Toren was finally beginning to understand.
"Is that what it is to be a goddess?" he asked.
"I can feel every breath of every creature in this world," Ehlena told him. "While I cannot protect every single one, there is much that can be done, and even those who do not possess the power of gods or mages or dragons, can do much to protect the lives of any who might fall prey to those who follow the darkness."
"Rest, Ehlena," Carly said. "You have already done enough."
"The goddess of the sea speaks wisdom," Toren agreed. "Others will take this fight to the enemy, and we will carry out your will, Ehlena."
"Yes, there are others," Ehlena said. "An army approaches from the west, led by Ariana Coromay, the daughter of King Gregor and Queen Aria, princess of the Solari, and Borrican Akandra, the dragon prince, second son of King Eric of Kandara."
"The dragon prince," Toren said. "That is a Kandaran title, a symbol of the royal house, if I am not mistaken. I thought for a moment that you spoke of the creatures of legend that fly upon the wind and breathe fire, raining death from above."
"The title is no mere symbol," Ehlena told him. "There are still more who may come from the east, and there are those already at Maramyr, standing against Calexis and the dark god, resisting the shadow."
"A war it is then," Toren said. "We will do as you ask, Ehlena. The Lady has long been good to the people of Aghlar, and I cannot forgive what this shadow has done to you. Rest now, that you will regain your strength."
Ehlena closed her eyes for a moment, then she frowned.
"The battle will soon begin, but the time is not yet right," she said, then she pushed herself up and looked at Carly. "If I were not so weak, I would summon a storm, that we might have a little more time."
"Please, no more storms," Toren said.
"I am sorry for the trouble I caused," Ehlena told him. "I have brought the rain, but I cannot summon the storm. If Stroma were here..."
"You rest here," Carly said. "Water may be my domain, but i
n my own way I can move the winds if I must, and I have a thought of what might work."
CHAPTER EIGHT
High up in the mountains, came the screaming call of a dragon, and though the soldiers of Maramyr and the guards of Kandara had become familiar with the fearsome roar, a few of them stumbled at the sound of it. The other three dragons returned the call, and heads turned as Kiva appeared like a streak in the sky, speeding toward the ground with his wings tucked in and slowly spreading outward as he approached. He circled around once, then he landed next to where Ariana, Borrican and the others rode at the head of the long procession.
"Kiva," Borrican shouted, speaking aloud for the sake of those who could not hear dragon thoughts. "You have returned."
"I bring stones, Akandra," Kiva growled, breathing heavily but grinning toothily as he glanced down at the leather sack that had been tied to the base of his neck. "Vana of the Aledra sends greetings to Ariana at the news of her clutch and says she will visit the elven lands soon."
"Then Vale's clutch must have hatched," Ariana said to Borrican, and she felt a strange sensation from him, a mixture of discomfort and pride, and a little embarrassment that she could hear his thoughts.
"Where is the Kandaran who knows the way of the watcher stones?" Kiva asked.
"I am here," Margo said, from atop her horse.
"Let us go," Kiva said. "I am tired, but I will fly you to the one called Berant, for he and the other army are not far behind you."
Margo handed the reins of her horse to Keira and swung herself down from her saddle, then she leapt up onto Kiva's back, and settled in atop his shoulders, then as fast as he had arrived, the young dragon leapt into the air and took off, back up the mountain road.
"I didn't know Margo could jump that high," Borrican commented.
"It is the power of the stones," Keira said. "I still do not understand their magic, but they give one greater power, even those like Margo who had none at all."
"I should think it useful to give these stones to some of our soldiers," Borrican mused.
"I doubt they would want them," Keira said. "It is a strange and uncomfortable magic at first."
"I am curious to know more," Borrican said. "Did you learn much about this magic while you were with the watchers?"
"You will have to ask Margo," Keira said. "I do not wish to talk about such things."
Borrican was about to press the issue when he felt Ariana telling him to let it go. He stared at her, confused and wondering why it should be a problem to discuss such a thing, but she repeated her thought, this time even more firmly, and he decided it could wait.
A short distance up the mountain road, Kiva and Margo found Berant leading his troops, all of them marching in perfect order and staring vacantly ahead. Berant called a halt and the soldiers stopped all at once.
"You travel quickly, Berant," Margo said.
"I should say the same about the rest of you," he replied as she leapt down from Kiva's shoulders. "I expected to catch you at Rivergate, but the main army has kept up a fast pace."
"There is some urgency to reaching Maramyr," Margo told him. "The princess has spoken of it very little, but she has been increasingly on edge since she visited with the goddess Ehlena."
"She has her reasons," Berant said, getting the impression that the Kandaran did not entirely trust him. "And I cannot blame her, for I would like nothing more than to remove Calexis and the dark god from this world."
"Then let us begin," Margo said. "Kiva, I would ask that you assist us."
The young dragon, shifted his form and the heavy, leather pack on his neck, dropped to the ground at his feet.
"What do you need me to do?" he asked, staring at the rows of soldiers, standing in a daze. As Margo unbuckled the strap on the leather satchel, Kiva walked over to one of the soldiers and waved his hand in front of his face. The man's eyes turned and stared at him but it was almost as though he was looking through him. Margo took a handful of stones from the pack and walked up to the soldier, then she pressed one of them to his forehead.
"Focus on the stone," she said. "In your thoughts, tell the stone to take what should not be there, like the way that water soaks into a strip of cloth, and tell him to be free, to be himself again."
"Just say it?" Berant asked.
"No," Margo replied as the clear stone under her finger began to whirl with color and became muddy and opaque. "Use your thoughts, and feel it."
Kiva scooped up a handful of stones and walked up to another soldier, and he pressed it to her forehead. A moment later, the stone cracked and the warrior fell to her knees and gasped.
"Like that?" he asked, and Margo was a little surprised.
"Finally, I'm free," the woman said, her voice cracking, and she looked up at Kiva, then at Margo and Berant. "Thank you."
The stone under Margo's finger cracked and fell to dust, and the man who stood before her took a deep breath and sighed.
"Thank you," he said, the vacant look on his face now gone, replaced by one of sorrow. "Please, I heard you explain what to do. Can I help free the others?"
"Of course," Margo said. "Take some stones."
Berant picked up a handful and tried it as well, and Kiva began using the stones, one after another, removing the magic from the ensorcelled soldiers.
"How do you do that so quickly, Kiva?" Margo asked.
"This magic uses thoughts and feelings," Kiva told her. "Dragon magic uses thoughts and feelings. It is also how we speak, so it is very simple for me."
"How dragons speak?"
"Yes," he said. "These words you make with your mouth are just noises. Dragons speak with thoughts as well, and sometimes no words or thoughts at all."
"I didn't know that," Margo said.
"There are many things about dragons that others do not know," Kiva said. "And it seems there are some things about others that dragons do not know."
"There is truth in that," Margo said.
"We are glad of your help, Kiva," Berant said as the stone under his finger cracked and another soldier was set free.
With more of the soldiers helping, it did not take long before they had freed them all, and it seemed that the soldiers themselves were eager to help the others. Berant knew how they felt, having gone through what they had, and when some of them sat upon the ground, or were reduced to tears, he let them have a little time to recover. Most of them had joined the army under Cerric, to fight an enemy they were told had killed the princess, only to end up fighting against an innocent land, against their own people, and against the princess herself, powerless to stop what they knew to be madness and lies. While trapped in Calexis' spell, Berant himself had done many horrible things, and he did not doubt that many of the soldiers had done such things as well, some of which he had witnessed. It was not easy to come to terms with the truth of those actions, even though they were not carried out by choice. Some might try to push those thoughts away, and others simply swallowed their anguish, but many were overcome at first, so once every soldier had been freed, Berant suggested that they wait for a short while before calling them back to their ranks.
"Do you think they will be able to fight?" Margo asked, glancing over at the countless men and women who were obviously affected by what they had endured.
"I do not know," Berant said. "We may lose some of them, but we will see."
"They are angry," Kiva said. "Even the ones who feel sorrow and are confused feel angry most of all. It is not dragon rage, but it burns hot. I agree with them."
"You can hear their thoughts?" Berant asked, wondering if dragons could listen in on people, which made him a little uncomfortable.
"No," Kiva said. "I can feel them, that is all. Their sadness burns with anger. It is strong anger, a deep rage, very strong for those who are not dragons."
"You seem to know a lot about anger, Kiva," Berant commented.
"Yes," Kiva said with smile. "Dragons are always angry, even when we are pleased by things. It is our f
ire."
A number of soldiers had gathered off to the side of the main force, and together they approached Berant, Kiva and Margo. By the markings on their uniforms, they all appeared to be commanders, and they stood in front of Berant and saluted him sharply.
"Lord General Berant," said one of them, a young man with brown hair and a beard that had not quite filled in. "What are your orders, sir?"
"I am still considering them," Berant replied. "What is the status of those under your command? They have been through a great deal."
"They are tormented and confused, Lord General," the commander said. "As are we. It is difficult to give orders, sir."
Berant looked at their faces and he could see the conflict. After being made to march, forced to fight, and compelled to kill he could see why they did not want to give commands, but he knew that one of the most dangerous thing for a commander was to be indecisive, and what his people needed most right now was leadership. With a nod, he turned and pulled himself up onto the back of his horse then looked out at the soldiers, meeting every eye he could, hoping they would see in him the knowledge that he understood what they had experienced. After a few moments, he turned his horse and cleared his throat.
"Every one of us," he said, taking a moment. "Each of us, you and I and the soldier standing on either side of you, we have seen a nightmare. We have lived a terrible dream and witnessed terrible things, done terrible things. Lies we were told, that robbed us of our will, through trickery, deceit and dark magic that held us captive. A dark dream it seemed, but it was no dream, and this day you are free once more, your swords your own, your will your own, your honor your own. Each of us, we pledged to fight for our kingdom, to punish those who we were told had murdered Ariana, our future queen. In our anger, we attacked our neighbor, and killed innocent people. That is the truth of it. Blood is on our hands, each and every one of us."
