Realm Of Blood And Fire (Book 3)

by Dionne Lister

  “No more discussion. You may have knowledge of Second-Realm power, but many of our people are versed in energizing. I also have soldiers downstairs, waiting to escort you to the cells. Churex, do you mind helping my guards?”

  “Certainly, High Chancellor.” The gormon’s jerky bow looked forced, and Agmunsten wondered how long it would be before the high chancellor found his way inside Churex’s belly—probably a few minutes after they were in the cells. Then it would be too late for the Zamahlans to change their minds about helping. The head realmist could see mayhem following soon after all the Zamahlan leaders had been ingested.

  Zim, can you take out the gormons at the rear? I’m going to restrain the monstrosity at the front. We can’t kill him if we want to convince the stupid high chancellor. Astra, I’d like you to make sure the chancellor doesn’t get in the way. You want your countrymen alive; you can protect them.

  The gormon grabbed Astra around the waist and picked her up. His rotten-egg stench made her cough.

  “High Chancellor, are you sure you won’t reconsider?” Agmunsten drew power.

  The gray-haired chancellor, his hair cut close to the scalp, giving his large hooked nose more prominence, folded his arms in front of his chest, which also advertised his initials in gold, and shook his head.

  The head realmist wrapped layers of power around the chancellor, rendering him immobile. For the gormon, he wove a scarf of power. Looping it around his neck, he pulled tight. The gormon dropped Astra, his sinewy hands going to his neck. He tried to get his fingers under the invisible noose, but it was too tight.

  Zim, meantime, breathed fire on the remaining gormons. His aim was good, the only other casualty a potted plant on a pedestal. Observing the two burning forms on the ground, he nodded and turned to check on Agmunsten’s progress.

  The gormon was on his knees. His hands, still grabbing for purchase on the invisible force, were clumsy from lack of air. Agmunsten let the gormon’s arms flop to its sides before he loosened his hold. Through all this, the two soldiers watched wide-eyed—the one who still had the spear half-heartedly pointed it at Agmunsten every now and then. Great guards, thought Astra. How embarrassing. I suppose that’s what happens when enemies haven’t visited for a long time—they get slack.

  “Ready to listen?” Agmunsten used the voice he employed when the younger children in the academy were being chastised.

  The chancellor nodded, but his mouth was set in a thin line.

  “I’m going to release both of you, and I want you to go and sit over there, on those comfy-looking sofas. And Churex, don’t bother breathing fire on any of us—we have employed our Second-Realm armor, and there’s nothing you can do to penetrate it.”

  Churex stood, his tail swishing from side to side across the rug as he made his way to a chair and the waiting chancellor.

  Zim stood guard at the door. Astra and Agmunsten chose to stand—it was a small intimidation tactic, but they wanted any advantage they could get. “High Chancellor Calinsar, I’m really very sorry it’s come to this, but Talia needs your help . . . and Zamahl’s. I left all those years ago because I had a true-dream, and I knew my fate lay hundreds of miles away. What else has the gormon offered you, other than saving Zamahl from a mysterious whirlpool?”

  The man looked at Astra, indecision flickering across his face. “If you won’t tell me the truth, I’ll force it out of you.” He paled. Astra bit her tongue to keep from smiling. She knew he’d assume torture, but she was thinking of delving into his mind—painless, although it wasn’t polite.

  The chancellor’s gray eyes glanced from the gormon to Astra.

  Agmunsten folded his arms in front of his chest and rocked back and forth, from heels to toes to heels again. “You’d better pick the right side now, Chancellor, because it’ll be too late to come crying to me later. And I’ll give you a hint—it’s not black and green and slimy.”

  “Who gave you the power to force me to choose? You want me to condemn my people to losing their lands, their homes, even their lives. That whirlpool has been growing every day.”

  Astra sat in the seat opposite the chancellor and looked into his eyes. She almost placed her hand on his knee, but thought better of it. “Did the gormon give you proof that siding with them will stop any catastrophe?”

  He thought for a moment. “Well . . . no. But that doesn’t m—”

  “Oh for the gods’ sakes. You’re going to gamble millions of lives on something with no proof?” Agmunsten rolled his eyes.

  “Don’t listen to them.” The gormon made a noise in his throat, like the hiss of steam. “Kwaad doesn’t lie. He is our almighty ruler, and he will defeat the dragons and the people across the sea. We will reclaim our rightful place in this world, and you and the dragons will serve us.”

  “You didn’t answer my other question.” Astra leaned forward. “What else did he promise you?”

  The chancellor looked to the ground. “My position here is guaranteed, and my people will be spared. There may have been some gold promised as well.” He fidgeted with his lapel.

  “What else?” Astra’s gaze bored into the top of his head.

  He sighed. “Dragon workers. He promised to send collared dragons to help work our fields and harvest the minerals from the northern mountains.”

  Astra gasped, her head snapping around to look at Zim. The black dragon had turned from the corridor to stare at the seated pair. Zim stalked into the room, smoke drifting from his nostrils, anger flaring in his eyes. “That’s what got you banished in the first place, gormon. Do you think Drakon will just watch and let it all happen again? And you, High Chancellor—you would enslave the dragons? We have the power to come here and do the same to you, but have we ever? We have no wish to force anyone to bow down to us, yet we could—it would be so easy.” Zim reached down and picked up the high chancellor, as if he were a child picking up a doll. He opened his mouth wide and stuck the man’s head inside.

  The chancellor screamed and kicked his legs. Zim closed his mouth just enough that the tip of his teeth pressed gently into the nape of his victim’s neck, the roof of his mouth cradling the top of the man’s head.

  A dark patch spread across the chancellor’s crotch, urine dripping onto the scarlet rug. Agmunsten smirked. “Hungry, Zim?”

  The dragon nodded, his teeth clamping down more firmly.

  “What did I say about killing my countrymen? Can you please let him go?” Astra winked at Zim.

  A growl vibrated up Zim’s throat and rumbled past the body in his mouth before he released the man and set him on the floor.

  The chancellor’s knees gave way, and he fell in the dampness he created earlier. “Someone get me a towel, please?” He wiped his face with his sleeves, trying to remove the dragon’s saliva.

  Agmunsten turned to the broad-shouldered guard. “Please fetch your master a towel and ask someone to run a bath. And I’m quite peckish. Send up some dinner, too, if you don’t mind.” The realmist turned to the chancellor, who had managed to get back to his feet. “Are you ready to be reasonable?”

  He nodded.

  “Good. Now—” He put a hand gently on the man’s upper back. “This is what Talia needs from you.”

  The gormon, knowing that his opportunity at thwarting the realmists’ chance at uniting Talia had almost disappeared, spoke in his mind and reported back to Kwaad. Master, we have had a hiccup. The realmists have intervened but I have a plan. In case I . . . fail, I wanted you to know that they will be crossing the ocean soon.

  Thank you, brother, Kwaad replied. Make good on your failure, or you will be punished on your return. We will ready the horde at Carpus.

  Yes, Master.

  Churex had nothing to lose, now. He would easily escape the High Chancellor’s prison, and then he would follow the realmists. They would drop their guard eventually, and when they did, Churex would be waiting.

  Chapter 18

  Leon stalked around his new bedchamber, having amused him
self by reducing his brother’s clothes to scraps of rags with his dagger. He kicked a piece of blue fabric out of his way as he reached the window. His hands rested on his hips as he gazed over part of the city and the surrounding countryside—now his. “You know why I’m not smiling?”

  Tusklar arranged the crystal crowns on their special stand on the mantle and watched his rage with a small smile. A rich-burgundy gown with a low-cut neckline skimmed her figure all the way to the floor. “Tell me, husband.”

  “My brother is still alive.” He dug his fingertips into his hips, relishing the pain.

  Tusklar went to him, circled her arms around his waist and rested her cheek on his back. “But you have your castle now, and you killed one of their Circle. This is just the beginning—remember that. There’s more than one way to skin a yamuk.”

  “Indeed there is.” He remembered the day he had left for Inkra—it seemed a lifetime ago. And what had his goal been? To demoralize his brother and take his city for his own. And hadn’t he done that? Yes, but it wasn’t enough. He wanted his brother’s head on a platter—literally. He would enjoy the spoils as Kwaad. The one consolation was seeing the gormons eating his brother’s people—yes, that had made him smile. He had enjoyed a few himself. “What do you think of your new kingdom, my darling?”

  “It is so much sunnier than Inkra. I think I will enjoy it here, but I can’t wait to see Vellonia.”

  Leon’s scowl returned. “It won’t be for at least three weeks. The gormons must mature, and your army is on foot.” He snorted disgust and pounded the stone sill with his fist.

  She rubbed his back. “I know a good way to spend the time.”

  He turned and embraced her, putting his mouth to her ear and kissing her lobe.

  Pounding on the door interrupted them. Leon rolled his eyes. “Will we ever get a moment alone? Come in!”

  A gormon ducked to walk under the doorframe. He bowed. “We have the final numbers: fifty-two gormons killed, plus your inside man Perculus. We’ve killed or eaten one-thousand-two-hundred-and-fourteen primitives. We have collared the rest and they are chained in the city’s warehouses and in our dungeons. The city gates are secured, and we’re tallying the number of inhabitants so we can plan for the future. There is also an excellent spot to house future eggs and larvae. The juveniles on the coast are maturing nicely and will start moving in two weeks. We’ve identified some caverns near Vellonia that would suit them perfectly.”

  Leon thought he would feel a touch mournful, learning about Perculus’s demise, but he was only angry that he had not captured Edmund. Stupid, repulsive man. Wish I’d watched him die. Why did everyone disappoint him so? First, his brother, then Boy, and now Perculus. Was everyone incapable?

  “Tell Kerchex he’s doing a good job. I want another update in forty-eight hours. Until then, my meals are to be sent up and left outside. My wife and I are not to be disturbed.”

  The gormon performed an awkward bow and backed out of the room, bumping his head on the doorframe. When the door closed, Leon turned to Tusklar. “Now, my love, where were we?”

  Chapter 19

  The clouds had cleared. The chorus of chirping crickets and croaking frogs hovered over the valley of Vellonia, providing an accompaniment to Bronwyn and Blayke’s light show.

  To practice drawing more power, Arcon had them channeling their energy into a massive, expanding ball of light. The gigantic orb floated twenty feet above them and resembled a small moon. They had attracted a few dragons, who stood in a circle around them admiring the performance, and moths flitted around the brilliance. Sinjenasta lay on the grass napping.

  While Blayke sent more power into the orb, Bronwyn created a ring of separate star shapes around the still-growing globe, then another, then another. Imagining her favorite colors, the rings of stars glowed peacock blue, green and magenta. The stars rotated around the orb, Bronwyn adding more stars to the strings to keep up with the moon-like light, which was quickly becoming planet sized. The young realmists smiled when they heard the dragons oohing and aahing.

  Bronwyn had only just started sweating, even though the power she had drawn tonight was twice the amount she’d ever attempted previously. Keeping her stars spinning took concentration—each thread of power had to be balanced just so, and each different hue required adjustments. As she reached for more power to add another garland of stars—this time mauve—the ground vibrated, and an overwhelming sense of loss descended.

  Both realmists released their hold on the energy. The flow from the Second Realm ceased, and the delightful faux planet and stars vanished. The panther rushed to Bronwyn’s side. Fang stopped foraging for seeds in the grass and ran up Blayke’s leg.

  The earth settled after a few seconds, but the sadness remained. Bronwyn looked to Arcon, who closed his eyes and bowed his head. “What is it? What’s happened?”

  Quickly checking all the realmists’ symbols in the Second Realm, Arcon discovered that Elphus’s was gone. Shoulders slumped, he passed a hand over his eyes and rubbed his forehead.

  Bronwyn reached him, trying to see his covered face. “Please, Arcon. What’s happened? I felt . . . something; something’s gone wrong.”

  Arcon dropped his hand to his side and met Bronwyn’s worried gaze. “You just felt one of The Circle die. Elphus has lost his life fighting for our cause.” He blinked, bewildered. He knew it was possible to lose one of their members before the final encounter, but he didn’t really think it would happen. He scarcely looked up when Phantom landed on a nearby branch and hooted.

  The dragons, who had been watching, departed. The news would be all over Vellonia within the hour.

  Bronwyn didn’t know the man well, but she had felt his essence at the meeting in the Second Realm, all that time ago. He had seemed kind, modest, and, truth be told, sad.

  “What happens now? Don’t we need seven members for The Circle to be at the right numbers? We’re going to be one short—even if Bronwyn and I join.”

  “Yes, lad, that’s true.”

  “So who do we get?” Bronwyn looked from Arcon to her brother.

  “We’re quickly running out of time.” Arcon gazed back at the shadowed mountain that housed most of the dragon population. “I’ll have to start by interviewing the five realmists that are here—but I’m not sure any of them will be strong enough, or trustworthy enough. One wrong decision and the gormons will basically have an open invitation to Talia.”

  “What about Arcese or Astra? It would be nice to have another woman on board, since we’re currently outnumbered.”

  “Possibly, but Arcese is pregnant—I don’t think her father would appreciate me putting her directly in harm’s way. And Astra is in Zamahl. I’m hoping they return in time, but there’s a chance they won’t, if at all.”

  “But they have to return: Zim’s with them.” Bronwyn looked to the sky, hoping to find divine inspiration.

  “Is everyone all right? I felt the earthquake and thought I’d come and check.” The realmists looked toward the voice and saw black-bearded Crotus. He had on his usual black pants, but he had ditched his hooded cloak for a black shirt, his crow creatura sitting on his shoulder, making the perfect accessory.

  Arcon pushed the grief from his face and presented a calm façade. “Why, thank you. I think everyone is okay, although it did bring an abrupt end to our realmistry practice.”

  “I saw the light from my window. You have two very talented prospects. How come I’ve never seen them at the academy?”

  “They have had special training. Agmunsten is trialing a new program to compare class-taught realmists with those brought up with intensive training in a more isolated setting. We haven’t come to any conclusions yet.”

  “Well, if what I’ve seen is anything to go by, the intensive training looks promising.”

  “Thank you.” Arcon nodded. “We’ve had a big evening. I think it’s time we had dinner. Why don’t you join us?”

  Crotus smiled. While Bronwyn acknowle
dged he was attractive, with olive skin, high cheekbones and gray eyes, there was something not quite right. She was reminded of the other men who always wore black. The undertakers would travel from village to village and help bury the dead or take them away for cremation. They had visited the village a few times, near the home she had shared with Avruellen. Each time they’d had more than one body limp and rotting in their horse-drawn cart, but it didn’t seem to bother them. The one gray hand she had seen poking out of the hessian covering, flies swarming around it, had been enough to make her lose her lunch on the side of the road. As they walked to the dining hall, Bronwyn stayed close to her brother.

  Near the dining entry, Arcon stopped. “I just need to go to the bathroom. Save me a seat.”

  “Okay.” Blayke continued into the room with Bronwyn and Crotus.

  The older realmist, Phantom on his shoulder, climbed two flights of stairs and sought his room.

  I’m sorry, Arcon. He was a fine man. We’ll all miss his kindness and quiet confidence.

  Thanks, Phantom. And just when I thought we might be invincible.

  You know we can’t live forever.

  Yes, yes, but I was hoping for at least one-thousand years.

  Typical human. If it wasn’t for you, I would have been happy to fly into the Unknown Realm long ago.

  Well, thanks for sticking around. Arcon smiled and ran his hand down Phantom’s back. Time to contact the others. The realmist warded his conversation so anyone in Vellonia wouldn’t be able to hear it, but there was no guarantee that someone else, outside the city, wouldn’t eavesdrop. His blue eyes stared unseeing at the wall ahead. He felt a connection with Arcese, Avruellen and Zim. Where’s Agmunsten? Is he with you, Zim?