Pandellen kneeled and placed one massive hand on Sinjenasta’s side and one on Bronwyn’s chest. He shut his eyes, delved into the panther’s body and followed the ethereal cord that joined the panther to the realmist.
As they waited, Fang climbed onto Blayke’s shoulder and rubbed his head under Blayke’s chin. The young realmist stroked the rat’s brown and white back and then looked at Arcon. Arcon shrugged and shook his head. And still, they waited.
The healer finally rose and looked to Arcon. “The panther is so close to death; he could cross over at any time. Bronwyn’s only chance of survival is if we cut the cord that binds them.”
Arcon paled. “But—but, that will ultimately kill her.”
“She will die anyway—only sooner—if we don’t.”
Arcon covered his face with his hand. “How in the Third Realm am I going to explain this to Avruellen?” Blayke placed his hand on Arcon’s shoulder, and Phantom hooted from his perch on the ledge a few feet away. Arcon let his hand drop from his face. “Are you sure there’s no other way?”
“Well, there is one other way, but you risk killing both of them straight away.”
Valdorryn cleared his throat. “Well spit it out, my boy. We haven’t got time for niceties.”
Pandellen glanced at the limp bodies in the basket then back to Arcon. “We need to put them both in the Sacred Lake, let Drakon claim them as his own. Only he can heal them now.”
“And if Drakon doesn’t intervene?” Arcon asked. Silence was his answer. Arcon turned to Blayke. “What do you think? Do you think Drakon let us get this far only to have us fail?”
“That wouldn’t be logical,” Blayke answered.
“Ah, yes, but when is anything the gods ever do prompted by logic?”
“Careful,” Valdorryn showed his teeth, “that’s my god you’re insulting.”
Arcon stood tall, fists clenched at his sides. “Do you know what your god has been asking of us? And this war we’ve been put in the middle of is really a war between Drakon and the gormons. I did a lot of reading while we were away, and your god is not the picture of holiness he would have you believe.”
“What do you mean? You’d better have a good explanation, Arcon—you’re close to ending up in our dungeon.” Red splotches pulsed over Valdorryn’s neck.
“The gormons were his children first. When he created the dragons, he ignored the gormons, making an enemy for both of you. They’re coming to take back what they see as theirs. Are they wrong?” Before Valdorryn could argue, Arcon put up his hand. “Delve into my mind and see I’m not speaking false.”
Jaz grabbed her husband’s arm. “You would let him do that?”
“Yes, Queen Jazmonilly. I have nothing to hide.” Arcon held his hands out, palms up.
Valdorryn’s large hands enclosed Arcon’s head, although he was careful to leave enough room for him to breathe. Arcon brought down all his mental defenses. The foreign touch inside his mind sent a shiver over his body, and he clenched his teeth against the involuntary feeling of revulsion. The two minutes that the dragon delved felt like hours to Arcon. When Valdorryn finally removed his hands, Arcon breathed deeply.
The king looked at Jaz and nodded, his face despondent, his wings drooping. “I don’t know what to say, Arcon. Please accept my apologies. I am going to require some time to digest this. All I can offer is that I hope, even if it is for his own self-serving reasons, he sees fit to restore Sinjenasta and Bronwyn to health. Pandellen, please do everything in your power to see that Arcon’s wishes are adhered to. I’ll see you all at dinner.” The dragon king turned and left, his wife by his side, his wingtips dragging on the floor.
“Well, Pandellen, I don’t think we have a choice. Let’s take them to the Sacred Lake.”
“As you wish.” The dragon scooped the basket into his arms and made his way down to the caves beneath Vellonia. The others followed, Phantom finding a perch on Arcon’s shoulder. Blayke spoke as they walked. “If it makes you feel any better, I know Bronwyn would want you to take that chance. She loves Sinjenasta and would give her life for him. Plus, what other decision could you have made?”
Arcon shrugged. “You know, I’ve never seen the Sacred Lake before. No one ever talks about it. I think they want everyone to think it’s a myth.”
“Why?” asked Blayke.
“I have no idea. Maybe the dragons know something we don’t.”
That wouldn’t surprise me, Fang said.
“Well, we’re going to get to see it today.” Excitement grew within Blayke at the prospect of seeing this almost-myth.
They reached the lowest level of Vellonia. Before long, the wall sconces disappeared, and darkness closed in. Arcon drew Second-Realm power and created a glowing ball that bobbed in front of them. But it wasn’t enough to quell the panic that rose inside Blayke like lava from a volcano, threatening to erupt in a scream. He stopped walking and huddled on the ground.
What are you doing? asked Fang.
“We can’t go any farther—something bad’s going to happen,” whispered Blayke.
You’re imagining things, Blayke. Come on; get up. We have to keep going.
“No. I want to go back.”
Fang called out to Arcon. We have a problem.
What is it?
Look behind you.
Where in the Third Realm are you two?
Blayke’s having a panic attack, but I have no idea why.
Must be Vellonia’s defenses. I have ways to deal with it, but I forgot to ward Blayke before we came down. So many things I have to remember. I’m coming back.
Fang had spent the brief time waiting for Arcon, trying to convince Blayke not to leave. Thank goodness you’re here. He was about to run back the way we came, and without being able to see, he would have tripped over something and done some damage.
Arcon laughed before mumbling a few words and gesturing in the air. Blayke shook his head and looked up at his mentor. “What was that all about? I’ve never been so scared. I could hardly move.”
“Vellonia’s inbuilt defense system. I’ve warded you. Did you see how I did it?”
“Not really—I was too scared to pay attention.”
“I’ll show you how to do it later—you may need it one day.”
They soon caught up to Pandellen, who had stopped to wait for them. No one spoke, the only sounds the scuff of their shoes on the dirt floor and the drip, drip, drop of water. Now that his panic had passed, Blayke could appreciate the feel of his surroundings. How many millions of years had these rocks been here? The cool air that suggested immovability and millennia started to feel warmer against his face, and subtle, colored light beckoned from up ahead.
Blayke had the sensation of being drawn into protective arms when he stepped into the light: pink, lime green, mauve, sky blue, just some of the colors that settled on them, changing the appearance of their skin and clothes. Pandellen’s black back absorbed the color, but his silver belly refracted the hues, the beams tinting the rocks on either side of them.
And then they entered the cavern. Both realmists stood openmouthed, the kaleidoscope of light a vision more wondrous than any they’d seen. The reason they had come almost forgotten, Arcon circled the water, child-like joy radiating from his face. He sat on the edge of the lake and dipped his hand into the tepid water. “But how?”
“That is one of Drakon’s great secrets, and wonders. It has been many years since Father has been down here—he forgets the generous gifts Drakon has bestowed on us.” Pandellen gently placed the basket on the ground.
Fang climbed out of Blayke’s pocket, ran down his clothes and rushed to Sinjenasta. He rubbed his tiny pink nose on the panther’s black one. Safe travels, my friend. Please come back to us. Fang was left in the basket with Bronwyn when Pandellen lifted Sinjenasta out and placed him on the edge of the lake.
Looking into the water, the myriad of colors skipping across its dark surface, he spoke. His voice was deeper than any Arcon had eve
r heard, the sound waves causing the water to ripple. “Hear us, oh mighty Drakon—we, who are but your servants. We request that your holy love and compassion visit us today. Please heal Sinjenasta, your loyal subject. We offer him to you, my god, and accept your decision—whether you return him to us or take him to be with you in the Sacred Realm.”
While Pandellen slid Sinjenasta’s body into the water, Blayke looked on thoughtfully, glad Bronwyn was not awake to see—she would be devastated. Would the panther come back healed? And wasn’t the Sacred Realm where he and Bronwyn had met Devorum? He couldn’t believe they had been to heaven, well, dragon heaven at the very least. His expectation, despite the otherworldliness of this cavern, was that Sinjenasta would sink to the bottom of the lake, never to be seen again.
“We can’t do it.” Blayke moved to stand next to Pandellen.
“It’s too late.” The dragon looked at Blayke and shook his head.
“Sinjenasta was going to die. But my sister may not. Can’t you just try and heal her?”
Arcon moved to Blayke and grabbed his shoulders, forcing him to look into his eyes. “It’s too late, Blayke. Nothing can be done for Bronwyn. This is the only thing left.”
“But—but, you don’t understand. We were there—we went to the Sacred Realm, and it’s just another realm. It’s not heaven. There are no gods there. Don’t you see? Sinjenasta is going to sink to the bottom of this lake and that’s it. He’s not coming back. I can’t let you do that to my sister. Regardless of whether we need her to save Talia, I need her. She’s my sister, and lately I haven’t been the best brother. I want to make it up to her. Please, please try and heal her.” Blayke’s vision blurred as he tried to blink tears away.
Arcon pulled him into a hug. “I’m sorry, son. I’ll have a quick look at her, and if I think she can be healed by anything in this realm, we won’t go ahead with this, okay?”
Blayke nodded and sniffed. Arcon patted his back before going to the basket. He climbed in and sat next to her, placing one hand on her forehead, one on her heart. He flinched at the heat radiating from her. Focusing, he drew Second-Realm power and used it to transport his awareness into her body and look around.
Her organs, arteries and veins were glowing red and blistering in some places—it appeared how he expected it might if one drew too much Second-Realm energy, just before they spontaneously combusted. He noticed the conduits in her mind that she drew power through were blocked, the hot river of red backed up behind it. What if he were to unblock it? Would that heal her? But what was that pent-up heat, and where would it go? Could it cause an explosion? So many questions: to try or not? To send her over the edge, into Drakon’s territory, and trust the god who had proven he could not be trusted?
He turned to Pandellen. “Please take Blayke, Fang and Phantom and get out of here. I’m going to try something, but there is a lot that can go wrong, and I have no idea how it might manifest.”
“Are you sure you want to do this?” the dragon asked. “Giving her to Drakon would be safer.”
“Yes, I’m sure.”
Blayke’s voice trembled, like the barrier of a dam before bursting. “Can I say good-bye—just in case?”
“Of course, lad.”
Blayke stepped over the edge of the basket and lay next to his sister. He draped one arm around her and kissed her forehead. “I’m sorry if I ever let you down, Bronny. You’re the best sister anyone could ever have, and I love you. If it’s up to you, please come back. Please. I don’t want to have to tell Mom and Dad that you’re not here when we finally get to meet them.” The smile he tried to force couldn’t push through the stream of tears. “Come back to us, Bronny,” he whispered before letting her go and rising to embrace Arcon. “Good luck. May the gods guide your hand.”
“Thank you. Now go. I’ll be up soon.” If I don’t kill us all first, he thought.
When he could no longer hear their footfalls, Arcon again knelt next to Bronwyn. He placed both palms on her head and closed his eyes. His corridor to the Second Realm came into view, but before he rushed in, he pondered how to remove the blockage. And after the blockage was removed, would that fix all the damage that had already occurred? Did he risk himself if he touched the diseased gormon energy?
“Blast.” He opened his eyes and tried to calm himself by staring at the hues that pulsed over the water like the last blush of sunset. Breathing deep, he closed his eyes and dove into the tunnel. Knowing the Second Realm was no longer safe, he drew all he could hold and cut off most of the flow, returning safely to his body. But where to send the gormon poison once he had unblocked Bronwyn’s channels? Could he fashion a container of power, but then where would he put it when he was done? The more answers he thought he had, the more questions piled on top of them.
Bronwyn groaned. Arcon looked down at her and noticed that her skin had a red flush that was not caused by the cavern’s otherworldly illumination. If he didn’t do something soon, she would die. Opening his inner sight to Bronwyn’s body, he looked over her once more and noticed something—her ethereal link with Sinjenasta, the cord of energy, was still there. Was the panther still alive?
“Trust me.”
Startled, Arcon looked around the grotto. Seeing nothing, he bowed his head before looking up. “But you make it so hard.”
“Bronwyn is on the brink of death, and it is because of Sinjenasta’s pettiness.”
“What? It’s because he was saving Bronwyn from the gormons.”
“He has been trying to escape my servitude for years—he’d rather doom everyone to annihilation than help me.”
“That doesn’t sound like Sinjenasta, but if it is as you say, I would imagine he had a very good reason.” Arcon swore he heard the dragon god sigh.
“I’m disappointed to say that you’re right. That is why you have to give Bronwyn to me now, or she will die. It is time I kept my promise to Sinjenasta.”
“So why didn’t you help him before?”
“I have an agreement with the other gods. None of us can just resurrect someone and reinstate them to Talia—it could quickly get out of hand with people begging this god or that to return a loved one. It’s just not right, and there are enough of you down there as it is. Now, place her in the water before there is nothing more I can do.”
Arcon lifted Bronwyn’s limp body and carefully stepped over the edge of the basket. He hesitated while deciding feet or head first. Deciding on feet first, he leaned her on the edge of the lake and gently pushed her in. Nausea constricted his throat as he watched her slide under, her hair momentarily floating on the surface before she disappeared.
“Please don’t let me return without her,” he whispered into the silence.
CHAPTER 11
By the time Zamahl came into view, the sun had risen high enough to blind Arie. How can you see, Warrimonious?
We have an extra eyelid under our outer eyelid that we can close. It blocks out most of the glare—kind of like a dirty window. We don’t see as clearly as normal, but it’s almost the same, just darker.
The young boy was impressed. Gee, I didn’t know that.
What can you see, Warrimonious? asked Astra.
We’re still fifteen minutes or so from making land. It looks like a narrow strip of sand then thick bushland. To the south, along the coast, there are mountains, some high enough to have snow. And to the north I spy less trees, maybe a city?
The mountains are the Peaks of Inspiration—that’s a translation of course—and the city this close to the coast would be Tranquility.
What? Don’t joke. Arie laughed
I’m not joking. Our whole ethos is supposed to be based around peace and happiness, but somewhere along the way, things changed, even without external intervention. The old names and some of the old customs remain. They don’t speak Veresian, by the way. Do any of you know how to speak Zamahlan?
Zim answered, I know some. I tried to learn before I came here last time.”
I’m afraid to
say that I can’t, admitted Agmunsten.
Neither can I.
Astra smiled. Make sure everyone is with either Zim or I. Agmunsten and Arie, don’t get caught anywhere by yourselves. If you can’t explain who you are, they could lock you in a dungeon and execute you before we ever found where you were. They take trespass very seriously.
Agmunsten turned his head to the side to look at Astra. They don’t sound too peaceful.
Astra shrugged. As I said, the old ways have almost died out.
Where do you want to land, Astra?
Well, since we’re trying to impress them, Zim, nothing says “I’m not afraid” as much as landing on one of their main government buildings. Do you want to take our chances and go straight to Tranquility?
Warrimonious spoke. We have the element of surprise, so hopefully we won’t get shot out of the sky by overzealous archers, and we are in a hurry. I think your idea is good, Astra.
On the roof of the councilmen’s building it is then. It sits on two city blocks and is two stories high with a flat roof garden. Since this is a power play, Zim, Agmunsten, and I will go downstairs and shake things up. If everything goes to the Third Realm, we’ll mind-message you, and Warrimonious can take Arie away. That way, we can plan for a breakout if we need one.
Arie gasped. But we can’t leave without you!
Arie, if things go wrong, better to save at least you two—then we still have a chance at escape.
Enough of that talk! said Agmunsten. Let’s just concentrate on what we have to do. The rest is out of our control for the moment.
All that discussion is distracting. Warrimonious and I need to concentrate. Zim started to bank right, toward Tranquility. He saw a spout of water far below as Kaphos, the welpid, said good-bye. An updraft of warm air pushed against his belly when the water beneath them transformed into land. Villages lay on the city’s outskirts; each collection of families congregated at their village hall where they worked for the day.
Zim hadn’t dared to come this close to the city last time and was surprised to see a giant statue at the eastern end of Tranquility. Is that a giant dragon? he asked.
Realm Of Blood And Fire (Book 3) Page 11
