“It has been an age of ages,” they said, their voices blending in a disturbing harmony. Tayna took a step back, but she could not break his grip. In her head, she began to see pictures. Of this place, but another time. Of a small group, climbing the path long ago. A Wasketchin man and girl. An elder Gnome and boy. A Djin and his son. Three Kings, each with a member of his House in tow. But they were not the three races as she knew them now. These were tougher, more hard-lived versions, marked by scars and other signs, that spoke of a life of warfare. These were the First Kings.
And they had come to make the Oath.
But Tayna saw no celebration on their faces. The impending moment of their liberation brought no smiles to their lips or laughter to their souls. They had been dragged here. Coerced. She could not see what forces might have compelled them, but they were no more pleased to be together at the top of this mountain than she herself was.
“We came because the Dragon willed that we should come,” Abeni and the girl said.
“What?” Tayna said in confusion. “What do you mean, ‘we’ came? You’re not there, creepy boy. Just some old guys and their kids.”
“Watch!” the creature and the girl hissed together. Then his grip tightened on Tayna’s arm, and she felt the images return. “The Dragon Grimorl had been expelled. The land was at the mercy of the last Colossus. Armored in stone a mile thick, he settled himself into our midst and demanded tribute. One child from each House. With his magic, he ensnared us, and so we came.”
One by one, Tayna watched in her mind as each of the Kings of Old shoved the child he had brought with him up against the cold, black wedge of the stone peak. The Dragon’s Ear. One by one, she watched as each King, with terror in his eyes, and shame, jerked a knife from his belt. She watched as those eyes pleaded with the world, with his fellows, with anyone, to make it stop. But the hand with the knife raised itself up into the air. One, two, three, times she watched as the knives flashed down, and blood flowed upon the stone. Only the Wasketchin King had deviated from the grisly ballet, struggling his free hand out before him, fighting all the while against some great, unseen compulsion, so that he might cover his daughter’s eyes before his blade fell.
“No,” Tayna said. “This can’t be true! That’s not what happened!” She twisted around to look at the stony peak behind her, overlaid with the images in her head. She watched as the crimson hue of the children’s blood seeped slowly into the dark stone, staining it, and spreading outward.
She watched as the body of the young Gnome rose and hovered for a moment, then saw it rocket up high into the sky where it exploded, more brilliant than a starburst in the night. “Yarmagh!” screamed the Gnomileshi King, as his hand clawed upward, grasping feebly toward the point of light that had once been flesh of his House. As the shimmering sparks of the boy’s remains arced out across the sky, they quivered the air behind them, leaving a vast dome to stand high above the Forest. And when it had sparked its way down to the ground, enclosing a vast territory, the dome vanished, and became clear blue cloudless sky.
“The land was closed against those who would not swear,” Not-Abeni and the girl said. “The Judge of Changes. Wrought from a life taken, not given freely.”
“Yama,” Tayna said, startled by the realization.
“But it was not enough that those outside never be allowed to return. All hope inside must also be stilled. The hope of escape. The hope of freedom.”
And so, a second body arose from the stone. The young woman. After hanging for a beat in front of her weeping father’s eyes, the body thinned and dissolved, fading into a ghostly nothing, and then it sank deep down into the rock.
“The Flame of his Might,” Tayna heard the voices say. “Keeper of the Oath. She who will come, should the Dragon’s Will ever be unmade. She who will enslave the People anew.”
But then there was a commotion in the vision. Unnoticed by the Dragon, the three Kings had managed to reach out their hands, trembling, toward one another. And when their fingers linked, it was as though a great chain had snapped, and they stood taller, their dark eyes flashing with anger.
“It was my father who wrought the hope of victory from their defeat,” he said. “Their forces combined, it was great Ixheef who pooled their vim and struck back.”
The third and last body rose from the stones. The Djin boy. With a gesture from the Kings, each moving as one, the boy’s eyes flew open, and a great roar split the air of that mountain top image. The Dragon’s wrath.
The Kings gestured as one and fire streamed from their fingers, transfixing the boy where he floated in the air before them. The crackle of their magic burned and twisted, and their light shone from his fingers, and toes, and from his ears and from the topknot of hair that now stood tall upon his head. And as Tayna watched, he darkened. And melted. The surface of his form flowed like oil, until the moment was done, and a dark form hovered in the air before the three Kings.
“Oathbane, they named me,” the Abeni-shape said, and the little girl’s voice trilled along in tune. “The Spear of Vengeance. Last hope of the conquered kings. To me was given the task of tearing down the Dragon’s evil. To that end I have fought for an age of ages.” Then in her mind, the black figure that had once been a Djin boy named Suriken, shivered and flowed. In his place, a great eagle beat his wings against the sky. After a brief, piercing look at the Djin King, the bird flipped, beat its wings once, and was gone, plunging down the mountain side, soaring along the winds of freedom. Away from the brutal stain of the Dragon’s crimes.
The images in her head receded after that, and Tayna stood once more on the Bloodcap, staring at a twisted Abeni, or Suriken, or whatever, holding a little girl in his arms.
“But, the girl …?”
The creature grinned. “I needed for you to come,” he said. “But she is done.” Then the girl gave a little wave.
And melted back into Abeni’s body.
* * *
“What? No!” Tayna lunged forward, reaching for the girl, but it was too late. The creature had absorbed her, or something. Eww! But his display was not over.
As Tayna watched, his skin began to ripple, and then he was the girl. “What the …” But even as Tayna formed the question, the girl’s form shifted, melting again, and flowing. This time, when it stopped, he was Quishek, the Gnome Ambassador.
“It is the power given to me by the last Free Kings,” he said. “The power to take form. To mimic.” Again his skin flowed, and Tayna watched as other faces flowed through his shape. The Wasketchin man she and Abeni had tried to catch in the Forest. A Gnome, who didn’t look familiar, but then she had it.
“The mug thief!” The little Gnome Tayna had seen near the Braggart’s Arch. The one who had led her to Angiron.
Oathbane settled back into what Tayna assumed was his natural form—the rippling black creature of muscle and grace that she had seen earlier. Two small rounded horns, also black, protruded from the sides of his head, and his eyes, if he had any, were as black as the rest of him. Like a super-hero carved from black wax and left out in the sun too long. He stood there now, holding a boh-cho mug and grinning.
“You’ve been manipulating me,” she said. “All this time, and it’s all been you.” In front of her, his black form nodded, and Tayna slumped herself against the base of the Dragon’s Ear that towered above them. “And you’ve been working with Angiron.”
He nodded again. “The Gnome King thinks to use me,” he said. “But it is he who carries out my plan. Angiron thinks to restore the Dragon Grimorl, and win power from the Brother Dragon, but he is a fool.”
Tayna nodded, beginning to understand. “Grimorl comes home and bye-bye Oath, am I right?”
Oathbane nodded. “It was a simple matter to convince the princeling that the Brother held power far greater, and that he would be grateful to any who could return him from exile.”
“And all that, just to get me here.” She waved a hand at the cast of characters he had just show
n her. “Why?”
“Surely you’ve guessed,” he said. “Born in this world, raised in that. A girl steeped in the vims of both worlds. Only you can open the gate.”
And then it clicked. The magics that she’d been drawing on. Not just the magic of here. There had always been something else, some other factor. How stupid! It had been staring her in the face all along. “Grimorl magic.”
“The magic of exploitation,” he said. “It powers your world, even as doe-eyed wonder reigns in this one.”
“And I have them both.” To that, he nodded again, and a slow grin rippled across his molten skin.
But there was something wrong with this picture. Something didn’t make sense. His story was about being a victim, but that’s not what Yama had told her. Yama had claimed that the Kings had come willingly to join with Methilien. Freely. To ensure a peace for all the races. She said as much.
“Enough,” Oathbane said. “It matters not the how, or the why. It stands now but to do. To complete the goal that has eluded me these many long millennia. Let it be done!” Then he grabbed Tayna’s wrist again, and dragged her to her feet, pressing the palm of her open hand against the red stone.
“Call to him,” he hissed in her ear. “Open the way and summon Grimorl. Bring him home that I might at last be free.”
He was trying to rush her, trying to cut her off without time to think. But why? If his story was true, wouldn’t she want to help him?
“Open it!” he urged. “Open it and be done!”
Tayna quested outward, from within herself, as she had done before. Pulling from Oathbane as well as from herself, she felt the connection form, but she wasn’t prepared for what she tapped this time.
Power. Vast and unyielding power.
“Yes,” he hissed in her ear. “Feel it flowing through you. I was right! I can see it in your eyes. I can feel it burning through your flesh.”
But Tayna could scarcely hear him. The power coursing through her was different now. Bigger. So much bigger. And hotter. It seemed to scream through her, scalding her, like steam in her veins. And along with the steam, there was darkness, oozing along with it. Another power shaping and directing her own. Bending it to his will.
Oathbane’s power. Oathbane’s will.
And then she smiled. Because in the knowing of all that, she knew something else too. Something that even Suriken had not yet guessed. Something that just might change the balance of everything that was going on. Something that made a difference. And she laughed.
Suriken’s face quirked then, and he pulled back, looking into her eyes with sudden suspicion. Quickly, he released her hands, cutting her off from his portion of the power. The Djin portion. But still the power sizzled through her being. It was too late. The revelation had shown her the certainty of her purpose. She had never needed him in the first place. Or Angiron either. They wanted to use her power? Lock her up for ten years and torture her? Fine. Because she knew now that she was more powerful than they had yet imagined. Way more.
And now she was going to show them what that meant.
Tayna pushed hard with both hands, forcing her fingers deep down into the stone of the Dragon’s Ear. Even as Oathbane grabbed at her shoulder, trying to pull her away, she kept pushing, deeper and deeper into the torrent of power that lay there. Waiting for her. She pulled it out to show him, and somewhere, she heard a roar, a scream. Then, with the power burning through her, she simply reached out…
And quaked the worlds.
Thanks for spending your time in Methilien.
I hope you’re enjoying the journey. If you are, I’d love to hear from you. Maybe we could sit around the campfire, sipping boh-cho and swapping theories about what comes next, or you can come take a peek at some of my character drawings and sketches. Whatever your interest, you can find me on Twitter, Google Plus, Facebook, or on my website.
But if I don’t see you there, I hope you’ll at least come back for the exciting series conclusion in Book Three: The Dragon at the End of the World. If you want to be sure to get an alert when it comes out, you can join my mailing list by clicking here. I’ll even send you some free short stories to tide you over while you wait.
I won’t ask you to go off and leave a review of this book, but if you’re the kind of reader who enjoys doing so, the least I can do is offer you some quick links for the usual places: GoodReads and Amazon. Thank you for taking that extra minute or two. It really does help.
And that’s it from me. I’m honored that you chose to spend your limited leisure time with me, and I hope to see you in another book soon.
Books by Jefferson Smith
Finding Tayna series
Strange Places
Oath Keeper
Coming next: The Dragon at the End of the World
Brotherhood of Delinquents series
Brotherhood of Delinquents
Coming next: Call of the Knackerman
The 13th Advocate (novella series)
Featuring Karsten and Babette
The Dowager’s Largess
Demon of the Sands
Coming next: The Widow’s Wrinkles
For Little Kids
Squeak!
Anthologies
All These Shiny Worlds
All These Shiny Worlds II
(Free download at all major ebook vendors.)
Inverted Worlds Short Stories
The Old Soft Sell
Bodies of Evidence
Famine, With Fries
(Short stories available for free at creativityhacker.ca)
Table of Contents
Legal
Acknowledgements
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Connections
Other Books
Oath Keeper Page 46
