The Nemedian Trilogy: Book 02 - The Dragon's Cup

by Jake Adler

  “We have no time to lose with this foolishness,” interjected Master Bedwyr with an authoritative tone that was surprising given his current predicament, “I demand that you release us all immediately as we have a critical mission and we also need the aid of your rebellion to help us to sanctify the portal.”

  The coal-black eyes of Gareet narrowed, “Who told you about the rebellion?”

  “A Troll, who unfortunately died before we could ascertain his name,” Master Bedwyr replied calmly as he deliberately avoided to mention the fact that it was the companions who had been the cause of the Troll’s death.

  “Does the agreement between the Northern Clans and my people still hold?”

  Master Bedwyr blinked quickly, “It does.”

  The companions held their breath. They knew that the Grand Mage was bluffing and that he had no knowledge about the existence or the nature of the deal. The Troll had died long before revealing such information and they were now relying upon a feeble falsehood.

  Gareet studied the expression of the Grand Mage closely, “Very well. I shall release you and the others, but ‘she’ remains here,” he said as he pointed towards ‘Molgarth’.

  Master Bedwyr chose his next words carefully, “Once the portal has been sanctified, I want your word that you will release her. I also think that she should come to know her true name.”

  Gareet shook his head weakly as a look of pain briefly flashed across his face, “Nothing would make me happier, but I fear that the High King has done something to her mind. He knows that only her own people will know her true name and revealing it to her might trigger something untoward in her behaviour.”

  The Grand Mage nodded as he rubbed his chin reflectively, “You may be right. It is certainly possible that she was allowed to escape from her imprisonment with the hope of using her to expose the location of the rebellion.”

  “Then you will understand my reluctance to release her,” Gareet said as he turned to face the main crowd of onlookers. “My people,” he announced in a loud voice that echoed across the cave, “let us all take food and rest this night as on the morrow the strongest of us will make our way towards the Devil’s Mirror. Those of you who are too ill or weak to travel shall remain here while we sanctify the portal. Once all danger has passed, we shall return to take you to your new home.”

  It was then that the agreement between the Molgarth and the Northen Clans became clear to the companions. In return for their help to sanctify the portal, the Northern Clans had promised them the chance of a new life inside the kingdom Nemedia.

  The gaze of the Grand Mage swept across the sanctuary that was filled with thousands of the creatures. Although his initial response had been one of alarm, he forced himself to look upon them once more with new eyes. It was then that he felt a deep sense of shame. The Molgarth had once been a proud race, but now they had been forced to live like animals underground. The very creation of Nemedia by the Wizard Manannán had brought upon them a slow destruction to their homeworld as the raging fires consumed all that they had ever known and loved. But unlike the other tribes, the changelings had turned away from the path of vengeance against Nemedia, engaging the wrath of their own High King, who now declared them to be traitors.

  With each full moon that passed, the two largest moons drew ever closer towards their homeworld. As the two celestial bodies fought one another, the world had changed its orbit around the sun as its searing fires began to bathe the planet. Master Bedwyr sighed as his gaze shifted towards the young changeling that had he had come to know. Her face held an expression of open curiosity as she stared at the plethora of creatures of every size, shape and colour that surrounded her. Her long blonde hair looked tousled, giving her beautiful Elven face a particularly wild quality as she suddenly caught sight of him staring at her and smiled back at him warmly.

  Master Bedwyr felt his face flush as he noted the beautiful colour of her eyes. It was the same blue colour that he had seen in many different animal guises over the past few days and weeks when she had been following him. It was not her current physical form that he found so intriguing, it was something deeper. He suddenly realised that it was the way that she looked at him. It was also the way that she had hugged him so tightly when he had offered to be her friend. He had remembered the look of loneliness upon her face and how it had changed to an expression of joy, when she had thought that he was one of her own kind. For some reason that currently remained unclear to him, these acts had struck a chord with him and he suddenly realised that he wanted to know more about this intriguing creature. He knew that she was content to remain inside the sanctuary with her own kind for now, both to ensure their safety and to take time to learn more about her people. He also knew that he would return for her.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  The winds had died down to barely a whisper as the golden-red sun reflected across the waters of Lake Diabhal. A handful of willow-the-wisps were the only signs of life as they danced through the air, weaving their tiny glowing bodies expertly amongst the thick reed beds that surrounded the shores of the lake with such speed, that a casual observer would find it impossible to trace their movements.

  As the daylight began to fade, the forest had fallen eerily silent as if waiting for an event of great significance. A series of powerful roars suddenly broke the silence, filling the skies above as they echoed across the lake, signalling to the Fae the arrival of the companions. Flashes of lilac, silver and gold filled the waters of the lake as Vank, Halaxan and the other companions who were being transported by the power of Skydda’s magic, flew at great speed close towards the lake in a bid to quickly reach the end of their journey and set foot upon the Eastern shoreline.

  The entranceway to the Grand Council parliament building glimmered with a blue-white light that shone through the screen of nearby trees, changing their foliage into an exquisite turquoise colour as its light spread along the veins of the leaves to their very tips, bathing each tree in a bright light that was almost blinding.

  As the companions drew closer, the gates that glowed with the same luminescence of magic began to swing inward, signalling that they were cleared to proceed. As they entered the main courtyard, Skydda felt the powerful vibration of magic beneath her feet. Its call upon her body was instant and she immediately realised that she had returned home. She smiled softly in recognition at the warm, turquoise grasses that covered the ground that glowed with the same curious mix nature and magic that filled the leaves of the surrounding trees. Her gaze then lifted towards the glimmering parliament building, as its pure, blue-white light filled the air.

  Within moments they had passed through the entranceway and entered the foyer. As on their previous arrival, the same diminutive Fairy flew to greet them and asked them to provide the details of their names for his register. He paused for some considerable time as his beautiful, androgynous face studied Skydda in fascination, noting how the tattoos and jewels upon her skin now glowed in response to magical light that surrounded her. His eyes suddenly widened as if recognising her as he raised a tiny hand to cover his mouth and he asked them to wait there before he swiftly departed.

  “That was strange,” Jetzan remarked as he too began to notice that with each passing moment that the decorations upon Sykdda’s body seemed to glow ever more brightly.

  A few moments later, Givarax, one of the most senior dragons of the Akrullin approached, his jet black scales and large golden eyes serving as a stark contrast against the blue-white light that surrounded him, “Your safe return is most welcome,” he nodded briefly towards Halaxan before his gaze rested upon Skydda, “as is yours my Queen.”

  Halaxan bristled in indignation at the rather brief welcome offered by one of his most senior Commanders. It was then that he took a moment to note the fact that Givarax had referred to Skydda as his Queen.

  “This is not possible,” Halaxan gasped, “it is nothing but legend-,“ his words faltered as he turned to stare in astonishment at Skydda. The
jewels and tattoos upon her body were now fully imbued with the magic that surrounded her. Her body glowed as brightly as a star, the decorations on her skin now merging together to form the sacred jewelled claw, the symbol of the Queen of all the Fae.

  “Blessed be!” Givarax boomed as his voice echoed down the hallway, causing the Fae rest of the Fae inside the chamber to fall to their knees in deference.

  Halaxan paused momentarily, before he too knelt before her. Skydda lifted her head, her pale blue eyes shining now with magical energy. She slowly moved towards the Council Chamber, descending the steps towards its central clearing as the golden dome of ceiling sparkled as columns of magical light fell upon her beautiful, glowing form. The Fae and the companions seated themselves in silence upon the many white granite seats that surrounded the room as their gaze remained transfixed upon their newfound Queen.

  The entire chamber now sat in a stunned silence as they stared at the Queen of the Fae. She had disappeared long ago, at the very dawn of the creation of the magical kingdom of Nemedia when they had left the land of Eire. Legend had it, that if she ever returned, that a new era would begin when all the peoples of both Earth and Nemedia would find their true place in the world. On the day of her return, she would choose her king, the one who would be the father to her many children who would each become the liberated, yet faithful Guardians of all magic.

  Over the stunned silence of the crowd, Skydda saw a familiar face. It was Jetzan. He looked as handsome as ever and she felt her heart beat quicken as they exchanged knowing glances with one another. He, as with everyone in the lands of Nemedia since they were a babe in arms, knew about the legend of the return of the Queen of the Fae. Her eyes searched his own for any signs of disapproval at her choice, as she was afraid that he might reject her. But he held her gaze and with a slight nod of his head, signalled his agreement.

  A Fairy saw the exchange of glances between them and motioned Jetzan out of his seat and it guided him towards the central clearing where Skydda was stood. The gaze between Jetzan and Skydda never left one another and with each step closer towards her, Jetzan knew that he had been waiting for this moment his entire life. For as long as he could remember, he had always seemed to possess knowledge about other peoples, of their culture, language and of their magic and he had always had no idea of how this had been passed to him. It was as if he was an old spirit and lived many different lives. He had been both a lord a pauper, experiencing countless joys and sorrows in readiness for the time he would meet the one to whom he was destined to be with.

  “We are home,” Skydda said softly to him as she gently took hold of his hand.

  “Yes,” he replied.

  “Are you afraid?” Skydda asked him suddenly as her eyes searched his own.

  Jetzan’s face blushed, “No,” he answered softly as he gently squeezed her hand and realised that he meant it, “I think that I have waited for this to happen for a very long time.”

  The King of the Wood Nymphs was the last to take his seat. He had heard the excited chatter while taking his repose close to the shores of Lake Diabhal and had quickly returned to the Grand Council chambers. His face held an expression of wonderment as he stared at the glorious couple that were now surrounded by magical light as he swiftly sat down.

  A murmur of nervous whispers began to fill the air, causing Skydda to raise her hands to call for silence, “I have returned ,” she said as her eyes shone with magic, “this is entirely due to the help of your compatriots who came to the Dragon’s Cup with the aim of setting the High Dragon free,” her expression darkened, “and it is with great sadness that I must ask him now to reveal to you all the grave error that he has made.”

  All eyes in the chamber nervously settled upon the High Dragon. Halaxan’s golden scales trembled with emotion as he cleared his throat. He nodded briefly in deference towards his Queen and his shoulders visibly slumped downwards as he began to speak. Gasps of shock and brief outbursts of anger began to fill the chamber as he admitted to his refusal to let the leaders of the Northern Clans speak to the High Council about the reasons behind their alliance with the rebellion and of the need to sanctify the portal. As he ended his confession, the High Dragon’s gaze fell towards the floor.

  The chamber remained in shocked silence as the Queen spoke once more, “Thank you Halaxan for having the courage to admit your crimes. However, in light of their serious nature, I must appoint your senior Commander Givarax, as the new High Dragon of the Akrullin,” she raised her hands to call for silence as a ripple of murmurs filled the chamber, “and his first act will be to send a peace delegation to the Northern Clans.”

  Givarax blinked at her as his nostrils flared with emotion, “With your permission Highness, I would like to request that Halaxan is given the opportunity to redeem himself in the eyes of his people. Although I realise that he can never be given the position of High Dragon again given the seriousness of his crimes, he could accompany the peace delegation to help to mitigate against the damage that he has caused.”

  The Queen studied the expression of the Dragon and then nodded, “I shall allow this. There is great wisdom in your words and your concern for his welfare only confirms to me that I have chosen the right leader for your race.”

  Halaxan frowned darkly as his gaze lifted and flashed towards the Queen. For a moment it seemed that he was about to speak, but his gaze fell to the floor once more and he remained silent.

  Givarax addressed the chamber in a booming voice, “Our Queen has spoken,” he then paused and turned once more towards her, “Highness, many peoples and cultures have referred to you by different names throughout the ages, may I ask by what name you now prefer to be known by?”

  The Queen raised her chin proudly as the decorations upon her body shone more brightly than ever, “As the protector of the Fae it is fitting that I carry a name that reflects this,” she glanced briefly towards Lady Cillina as her eyes twinkled with warmth, “my rescuers gave me such a name and I have already grown very fond of it, as much as I have of who gave it to me. I shall henceforth be known as Queen Skydda.”

  With that, the meeting of the Grand Council began to be drawn to a close. The final command of the Queen was that the scribes of the Fae peoples re-write the history books. As she had set foot once more upon the magical lands of the Fae, her memory had returned to her. The once much loved creator of the magical kingdom of Nemedia, the Wizard Manannán, would need to be recorded as a much darker figure, she had remembered that it was he who had been the one that had tricked her into her imprisonment inside the Dragon’s Cup. Although she was not entirely sure why, she had strongly suspected that he had done it in order to be able to reign as the new ruler of the Fae, although the fates had ultimately determined a different ending for him.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  The spirit had chosen its moment perfectly, deciding to catch the creature off guard as it knelt down to take a drink of water. As it punched itself deep inside the creature’s chest, the Demon momentarily stiffened as it fell back towards the ground, as its body then began to shake and shudder. The invading spirit swiftly spread inside it like a poison, using all of its dark essence to pollute every fibre and sinew of its body. As it entered the Demon’s brain, it sensed the creature’s dull mind and realised with a sense of glee that it would not be difficult to take ownership of its body.

  GraJin felt the warmth of its blood run through its veins and the steady beat of it powerful heart as he began to move the creature’s limbs. Despite the Demon’s weak mind, GraJin flashed inside its primitive brain the image of himself as one of the most Senior Commanders of the Thirteenth Tier in order to assert his right of dominance. The creature paused in its struggle, recognising his authority to claim ownership while still remaining reluctant to submit to his will entirely, as it knew that doing so would mean the end of its own existence.

  GraJin felt rage at being kept waiting for his prize. He tore into the creature’s mind, clawing and biting at its
consciousness as he sought now to destroy its ability to think entirely. Within moments the battle was over, as the Demon’s soul fled from out its own body, now thoroughly confused and frightened. Unlike GraJin, it had neither the intelligence nor the authority to assert its domination over any other living thing and it now faced an eternity of aimless wandering.

  GraJin’s new eyes caught sight of the spirit as it skittered away. His black snout wrinkled and his mouth formed a grotesque shape, revealing an expression that could vaguely pass as a smile. Seeing the soul of the creature flee that he had slain, he felt an immense sense of power that he found to be extremely pleasurable. He had not needed to use a soul-stone, the black stone of magic that was often used on other less submissive and more intelligent creatures that slowly destroyed their spirit from inside their host body. He was not entirely sure, but the speed and ease at which he had taken control of the creature’s body, even taking into account its submissive nature and slow mind was unprecedented. It was entirely possible that his skills and abilities were growing. One day he realised that he might even be strong enough to possess the body of other species by the sheer force of his will power and magic alone.

  GraJin arose from the damp ground upon which the Demon had fallen, admiring for the first time his muscular body and the thick layer of tightly knitted jet black scales that covered his entire frame. The body that he had chosen was a powerful one. It would not be easily slain, unlike the weak human body that he had been forced to endure while he had taken the guise of the last surviving Councillor of Ellington and searched for the young human mage that he now despised.