Realm Of Blood And Fire (Book 3)
Page 19
Yes, no need to worry. He’s busy at the moment. I see we’ve lost Elphus. This is a dark day indeed.
They all heard Avruellen’s sniff. How could this have happened?
Arcese spoke. He lost his life saving us. Kwaad attacked, and if it weren’t for Elphus, then Edmund and one of the dragons would be dead.
Where are you now? Arcon asked.
We’re a few days from Vellonia, traveling south. We’re going to stop to pick up Queen Gabrielle and Verity. Bayerlon is lost to Leon and the gormons.
Arcon rested his head in his hands. This is worse than I expected. What about you, Zim?
Agmunsten is chatting to the High Chancellor of Zamahl, but he can’t be trusted. At least we’ve made it this far with no casualties, although it was close. We haven’t exactly had a warm welcome. The gormons got here before us.
Avruellen gasped. Is anything going right? We’re still three or four days away. Toran’s great company, but I swear Corrille is half gormon.
Hang in there, Av. The kids are doing a good job here, but I need to puzzle out the prophecy. It would be good to have some idea of what’s expected on the last activation. And, as you have all realized, we’re going to have to pick a realmist to replace Elphus. I don’t suppose you want the job, Arcese?
I’m flattered, Arcon, and would consider it in other circumstances, but I’ve had issues with drawing power. Pregnancy doesn’t agree with the Second Realm. Sorry.
Well, there are five realmists here. I’m going to get to know them and hopefully one will suit; if not, we’ll have to hope you get back in time, Zim, so Astra can join our ranks.
Okay, Arcon. I have to go now. I’ll send you an update in a few days. Zim dropped out of the connection. The others said their farewells and Arcon was left to sit on the bed and ponder their losses. Phantom, this is not going well. Although, at least King Edmund survived.
So I heard. We’d better get down to dinner, or you’ll miss your chance to get to know Crotus the Creepy.
Arcon laughed. You’ve got that right. But what if he’s just a harmless kind of strange and perfect for what we need.
Hmm, I’ll reserve judgment.
“Let’s go.” With Phantom on his shoulder, Arcon returned to the dining room. He found the teenagers sitting with the five realmists from the academy—their table at the opposite end of the hall to King Valdorryn and his family. Arcon sat in a spare seat next to Bronwyn. “Hi, all. I’m Arcon.”
An older woman, short, shriveled and wearing a yellow dress that did no favors for her porcelain-white skin, was the first to introduce herself. Arcon picked her for a northerner. “Lovely to meet you, Arcon. I’m Zella. I came to realmistry late—that’s why even my wrinkles have wrinkles.” She laughed.
“I remember you from the academy when I visited a few years ago.” Arcon smiled.
“I thought I’d seen you before. And this is my ferret, Ret.”
Bronwyn giggled. “What a great name. I didn’t notice him before.”
I’m not a him; I’m a her.
“Oh, Ret, don’t get so upset. How’s a person to tell? I’ve told you to let me put a pink ribbon around your neck, but you just won’t listen. This is Aimee.” Zella nodded to a young girl sitting on her right. Aimee must have been of a similar age to Bronwyn, but her hair was white blond, her eyes clear blue.
Aimee blushed, the red obvious on her pale skin. “Pleased to meet you, Arcon.” Her quiet voice barely reached across the table. Well, she was definitely out as far as qualifying for The Circle—too young and inexperienced. Arcon also wondered if she’d faint at the first whiff of a gormon on the wind.
A tall, well-muscled youngster—young by Arcon’s standards, so he could have been forty—with shoulder-length brown hair introduced himself. “I’m Bernard. I’ve heard a lot about you, Arcon. Didn't you once save a village from starvation by healing their soil and encouraging their crops to grow?”
Arcon thought the man, with his brawny build, could have passed for a soldier in the king’s guard. “Ahem. I’d forgotten about that. I did, with the help of another talented realmist called Elphus.” The old realmist swallowed, and Blayke eyed him with concern. Phantom shuffled closer to Arcon’s face and leaned against the side of his head. “And do you have a creatura, Bernard?”
“I do, sir. She’s a wolf called Juniper.”
“Wow, a wolf. I wonder if she’d get along with Flux?” Blayke took another piece of venison from the platter in the middle of the table.
“I’m the stick-in-the-mud of the group—so I’m always being told. Dorge is my name. I head up the Testing of New Constructs faculty at the academy.” A thick mess of curly red hair shot through with gray topped off his tall, skinny frame.
“Dangerous job.” Agmunsten smiled.
“Indeed. Oh, and since everyone’s asking: I don’t have a creatura. I was never one to want adventures outside the academy, and I don’t have time for animals.”
All the realmists looked at him as if he’d just said he wanted to marry a gormon. Dorge shrugged. “Besides, an animal would be bored cooped up all day in a basement room in the academy. You can’t expect they’d want to be locked up their entire lives.” This comment placated the group, and Arcon changed the subject.
“I’ve already met Crotus.” Arcon nodded at the man. “What do you do at the academy?”
“I’m in charge of testing students to see if they have what it takes to become realmists.”
Aimee looked at him through narrowed eyes, her lips pursed. She quickly rearranged her expression when he moved his head.
During dinner, Arcon observed more than he spoke. He had decided that, although Zella was old enough, maybe she wasn’t strong enough, having come to realmistry a lot later than the average person. Dorge was a possibility, except he was strong in one area but maybe not others. His best candidates so far were Crotus and Bernard, and he definitely didn’t trust Crotus.
He would love to test their strength and knowledge in Second-Realm power, but he couldn't do that directly without giving away the fact that one of The Circle had died. Or maybe he could. “Excuse me, everyone.” Everyone looked at Arcon. “I hate to bring up a depressing subject, but in less than a month, the gormons are probably going to be here, attacking us. Agmunsten sent the five of you to help, which will involve fighting. We’re going to need to come up with a plan of attack, so to speak, and see what everyone’s strengths and weaknesses are. Who’s good at throwing fireballs?”
Crotus, Bernard, and, surprisingly, Aimee raised their hands. Arcon nodded. “And who can channel enough power that they could throw fireball after fireball for an hour?”
They shrugged, and Crotus laughed. “How would we know, when we’ve never had the opportunity? It’s not like there’s been any wars lately.”
“Well, that’s where we’ll start. In the morning, we’re all going to go out and have target practice and see how much stamina you have. I want you to meet me at the bridge next to the caretaker’s stone cottage by the river. We’re going to cross to the other side of the valley, where there’s less chance of hitting any dragons.” The realmists from the academy, and Bronwyn and Blayke, all sat up straighter—if they’d been cats, their ears would be pointing forward. Arcon tried not to laugh.
***
Her dark hair tied in a ponytail, Bronwyn waited on the bridge with Blayke, Fang and Sinjenasta. They were a bit early because Bronwyn wanted to talk to her brother before the others arrived.
Bronwyn peered over the railing. The water rushed past—melted snow from the spring thaw filling the river almost to the top of the steep banks. She picked at the railing with a fingernail. “Um, Blayke, you know how Sinjenasta is Sander?”
“Yes.”
She straightened and looked him in the eyes. “Well, he can’t be a person unless he’s in the Sacred Realm, and we want to be together . . . as people.”
Blayke looked at the panther. “Can’t you change back when you want?”
“Oh.” Blayke looked at his sister. “You can’t go back until the war is over—you know that, right?”
“Of course I know. But please don’t tell Arcon, or Avruellen—or anyone, for that matter. If they know, they might try to stop me.”
“Why would they mind? It’s not like you couldn’t come back here.”
Bronwyn looked down and scuffed her booted toe back and forth on the timber bridge planks.
“What? Why wouldn’t you be able to return?”
“Drakon is going to close the portals between realms. Once we’re there, that’s it.”
Blayke’s mouth fell open. He knew what that meant—no more drawing Second-Realm power, no more realmistry. He looked around. No one was coming, yet. He grabbed her upper arms. “You’d give up your family and Talia for Sander?”
“What would you give up for Fang? He’s part of you. This is worse. I’ve bonded with a person, not an animal. I don’t think that’s ever happened in the history of Talia. I'm in love with him, but it’s more than that. We’re connected in a way that cannot be undone—ever. As soon as I met Sander, I knew we had a deep connection, way before I found out he was Sinjanasta.”
Blayke rubbed at his eyelid with his finger and scrunched his face. “Can we talk about this again later? I need to think about it. Please promise me you won’t go anywhere near the Sacred Lake until this is over.”
“I promise.”
“And what about you, Sinje . . . Sander?”
I promise, Blayke. It was never my intention to take Bronwyn from you. The panther padded to Blayke and rubbed his head against his side.
Wow, you humans know how to complicate stuff. Fang looked down at the panther from Blayke’s breast pocket. For what it’s worth, Sinje, you make a good panther.
Thanks. His tongue lolled out in a smile.
“They’re coming, so let’s not say any more. We’ll talk later, sis.”
“Okay. Thanks for understanding. I knew you would.” She smiled and hugged him.
Phantom landed on one of the wide bridge pylons before Arcon arrived with the group. Sinjenasta and the owl exchanged nods. The panther noticed Crotus was sans crow. He looked up and around. There, in a branch of a tall prone tree, its spindly leaves close together, the crow sat and watched. Shit, thought Sinjenasta. He would have heard Bronwyn and Blayke’s conversation. Had he already told his master? I’ll be keeping an eye on you, Crotus.
Arcon led them to the other side of the bridge. Turning left, they walked south for a few minutes. “This should do. The dragons have kindly set up some targets for us.” Everyone looked where Arcon pointed. At different height intervals up the mountain, metal gongs had been hung. “When you get a direct hit, the gong will sound. They won’t burn, so we can keep using them. Later, we’ll get the dragons to fly with them hanging from a rope beneath their bodies.”
“But what if we hit them?” Aimee’s eyes were wide, but at least her voice was a bit louder than the previous day.
“I’ll create a shield out of Second-Realm power for them. They’ll be perfectly safe.”
Aimee smiled. Blayke watched her, a small grin on his face.
“We’ll start by opening up to the corridor. I want everyone to make a small fireball above their hand—if you can’t do that, a ball of light will do.”
Crotus looked at Dorge and rolled his eyes. “This is new-recruit stuff, Arcon. Give us something hard.”
“Just shut up and do as I ask.”
“I beg your pardon, old man.”
Bronwyn’s mouth hung open at Crotus’s insolence. Arcon was one of The Circle, for Drakon’s sake. How dare he? She felt the slight pressure change that indicated that someone was drawing the power.
Arcon lifted Crotus off the ground. He held the black-robed realmist’s arms and legs stiff by his side. Crotus tried to object, but his mouth was forced closed. He stopped rising when his feet were level with Arcon’s head.
“Look, you little snot, I’m a member of the ruling council of realmists—The Circle. I’ve seen more than all of you put together, and I know how to use the power in ways you’ve never imagined. If anyone,” Arcon said, his gaze touching every realmist, “thinks they won’t do as I ask, when I ask, they can leave now. Go back to the academy and consider yourselves a failure. Do you all understand?”
Crotus, bound as he was, was the only one who didn’t nod. Arcon waggled his finger back and forth. “Crotus, move your right foot if you agree to my terms.” The foot twitched. “Good.” Arcon set Crotus down.
The black-clad realmist tested both arms and legs to make sure everything was working and then scowled at Arcon.
“Are we ready? Balls in the air.”
Everyone managed, except for Dorge. He balanced a globe of light above his hand.
“Now, make them one centimeter bigger. You’ll have to draw more power. Do it by pushing the power into the middle of the ball—if you add it to the edges, it’s likely to fall apart when you throw it.”
Arcon checked everyone’s constructs. “See that target up there—the gong with the blue circle in the middle. We’re going to take turns. Bronwyn, you can go first.”
Bronwyn stood side-on to the target, pointed a straight left arm toward the gong and threw with her right. The fireball sailed through the air and hit the gong just below the blue circle. “Well done! Now Blayke.” While they took turns, Arcon stood with Dorge and ran him through, step-by-step, how to create a fireball. It surprised him that the man hadn’t been able to do it—he was head of a department, for goodness sake. It reminded him of the old adage: those who can’t, teach; those who can, do.
At lunchtime, they stopped. Zella was the first to plonk down on the grass. Her ferret, Ret, pounced over her legs, bounding to a nearby tree and back. Zella laughed. “It feels good to work hard. I haven’t had a workout like that for years.”
“The things I’ve been missing in the lab. Who would have thought being outside would be so much fun.”
“You’d forgotten what fun was, Dorge.” Zella lay on her back and looked up at the blue sky.
Blayke found a spot next to Aimee, and Bronwyn and Sinjenasta sat a little bit away from everyone, talking quietly.
“Rest up. We have another session early tomorrow. Same place, same time.” Arcon strode back to the mountain while Phantom soared above.
Crotus watched them leave, his crow perched on a rock near one of the targets. Finally things were falling into place. So much news he’d have to tell Leon tomorrow night. He lay back on the grass. Fitting his hands under his head, he shut his eyes and enjoyed the warmth of the sun.
***
The third morning of practice had gone well. Everyone was improving, and no one had hurt themselves, yet. Arcon had left the others and was waiting for King Valdorryn in his meeting chamber. The white owl had perched on the stone mantle above the cold hearth. Logs lay in wait for a chilly night, but spring was moving toward summer, and inside the mountain, the temperature was steady and cool rather than cold.
Humming preceded Valdorryn through the door. The king held a scepter, which he placed on the table before he sat. “Good afternoon, Arcon.”
“It seems you think it so. Isn’t it a bit early to get stuck into the gozzleberry juice?”
Valdorryn smiled. “Not yet, although we may have a reason to celebrate.” He picked up the scepter from the table. Arcon admired the black onyx. At the end reared a red dragon with its maw wide open, as if breathing fire. The thin red veins that ran through it looked to be moving, like a lava flow. The dragon twirled it in his hand. “This is the Dragon Scepter. Each king and queen of Vellonia receive the scepter at their coronation and promise to rule Vellonia with only the best interests of her inhabitants at heart. It was also said to have another function—to protect.”
“Do you hit
an enemy over the head with it?” Fine wrinkles forked out at the corner of Arcon’s blue eyes as he smiled.
“Ha, ha, realmist. Please don’t joke. I’m rather serious about this.”
“Sorry. Please go on.”
“We have never needed this for protection, and to be honest, I forgot about it after Jaz and I took the throne.”
“So what made you think about it now?”
“After going to the Sacred Lake the other day, Pandellen decided to read up on the history of the gormon wars. Turns out that this scepter was only created after the gormons were banished. We can’t find any evidence of it mentioned beforehand.”
“Can I have a look at it?”
“Certainly.” The king handed it over.
Arcon ran his fingers along the smooth finish. He studied the scarlet lines crisscrossing the shaft. They were moving—a tiny river of glowing something within. His eyebrows arched into his hairline, and he handed the scepter back. “What in the world?”
“We’re not quite sure. Pandellen is still researching, but, so far, he can only find the reference to it being some kind of protective tool.”
“I hope it turns out to be—we’re going to need every bit of luck we can get. Leon took Bayerlon with only one hundred of those hideous creatures. How many are we going to have to face? Is it hundreds, thousands, hundreds of thousands?”
“We’re planning for thousands. How many did Talia banish last time? I always had the impression it might have been ten thousand, maybe twenty. How fast could they multiply?”
“Who knows? But they’ve had over one-thousand years—plenty of time to produce an army.” Arcon put his bottom lip over his top and blew out a puff of air. “They’re like worms—they don’t need two sexes to reproduce. There’s little information on how many offspring they can have at one time and how long the incubation period is.”
“We need to find out. What if I got a couple of dragons to fly back to the coast where you came ashore at Blaggard’s Bay?”
“That’s too dangerous. Some gormons might mature faster than others. You could be sending them to their deaths.”