Exiles From The Sacred Land (Book 2)

by Mark Tyson

  “Melias, Monk of Fawlsbane Vex.”

  “Your Grace.” Melias bowed. The king narrowed his eyes at Melias and then looked directly at Dorenn. In his eyes, Dorenn thought he could see flecks of gold and silver. His pupils appeared slightly elongated, like that of a cat.

  “Dorenn of Brookhaven,” Morgoran indicated.

  “Your Grace.” Dorenn bowed.

  “Rise, Dorenn of Brookhaven,” the king said. He cupped Dorenn’s chin in his hand. At the king’s touch, Dorenn saw a huge, magnificent, golden dragon in flight for a moment.

  “You are a wielder, young Dorenn, and what’s more is you have a terrible case of essence sickness.”

  “I feel fine, Your Grace.”

  “How?” the king asked. “You should be senseless as a loon, or at least you should be resting in bed.”

  “Your Grace,” Morgoran began, “that is one of the reasons we are here. I had hoped to present him to your ancient clerics.”

  Amarantus let go of Dorenn’s face. “Your clerics are not up to the task?” He looked at Vesperin.

  “Sadly, no, Your Grace. Much has been . . . well . . . forgotten in the realms of men.”

  The king milled around for a moment while he thought. He stopped momentarily to speak, but instead milled some more.

  “Your Grace?” Morgoran spoke.

  “I am not sure if dragonkind is your answer.” He pointed a long finger at Melias. “You are harboring a Drasmyd Duil, and I am contemplating whether I should do something about it or not.”

  Morgoran’s expression went blank. “Yes, Your Grace, I am aware of it. Surely you remember Melias.”

  “I do not,” the king said. He raised his hand, made a gesture, and Melias began to contort and change.

  “No, Your Grace, these men are not aware of the story. They do not yet understand him.”

  The king stopped, and Melias reverted back into the familiar monk. “If I cannot see him myself, then tell me, Morgoran, what brood did you bastardize to create him? By the markings I did see, he is obviously not typical Drasmyd Duil.”

  “I must proceed delicately here, Your Grace. He is your daughter’s brood.”

  The king let out a sigh. “Aye, I know this to be true. She let you do it, didn’t she?” He stumbled to his throne.

  “Your Grace, I would be happy to explain it all to you,” Morgoran pleaded.

  Guards rushed to the king’s side, but he waved them away. The king regained his footing, took a minute to steady himself, and then went to Melias. He reached up and moved back the hood covering his head and looked upon his face. “You and Toborne took too many liberties with my kind, Morgoran, and I should execute you for it.” The king’s mood turned somber.

  Dorenn looked at Vesperin, who returned his surprised gaze.

  “We certainly did, Your Grace, but remember, in my defense, I was not trying to create something evil. I was working with my brother to help the dragons, or so I thought.”

  The king nodded and put his hand on Morgoran’s shoulder while he still looked down at the floor. “Did she suffer?”

  “No, Your Grace. I made certain of that.” He paused for a moment. “Your Grace, had I not been cursed, I would have come to Draegodor. I would have—”

  “What did she ask of you?”

  “Your Grace?”

  “What? Help me to understand. What did she ask of you?”

  Morgoran began to become irritated. “That is between her and me. I will spare you the details.”

  The king spun around and pointed to Dorenn and Vesperin. “If they do not know the meaning of all this, then tell them. Tell them and tell me. What did she ask of you?”

  Morgoran became precipitously irate. “All right. She asked me to end it for her. She asked me to save her son who had already died. She didn’t know, Your Grace, she didn’t know he was already dead. It was the only way. I took the only available dragon egg presented to me. It was one stolen from the Brae brood, and I used Toborne’s method. I created the Brae Daun. He is not Drasmyd Duil, Toborne’s creation. He is Brae Daun. He is your grandson of the Daun brood. It was the only way.”

  “She asked this of you?”

  “Aye, she did. And I showed him to her, and she named him Melias before she died.”

  King Amarantus did not look pleased. He stood only inches from Morgoran’s face. “You knew all this, and you dared to bring him in front of me?”

  “Aye, Your Grace, I did. What I did not anticipate was you exposing him like this. I had foreseen that we would talk about it in private. Apparently that vision was wrong as well. Melias is the perfect protector for Dorenn as he can detect Dramyds from far away. He can sniff out Drasmyd Duil even when they are in disguise.”

  The king held up his hand to stop Morgoran. “My clerics cannot help you. Dorenn is too far gone with the essence sickness.”

  “I feel fine, though,” Dorenn spoke up. He was still reeling from the revelations he had just heard, but he wanted to make sure they understood that he was not seriously ill.

  The dragon king looked at Dorenn gravely. “It isn’t an illness of the body, I am afraid. What you have is a magical affliction of the mind, brought on by using essence. Wielders of old cured it in the young early in the training. By this rigorous training, the young apprentices built up a tolerance to it. But you,” he shook his head, “are of sufficient age to be of concern.”

  Melias, who had wisely remained silent, spoke. “Your Grace, perhaps the elves of the Great Forest could help. They are skilled of such matters since they use a nature-based form of essence wielding. They may be able to cure the boy.”

  “Aye,” Amarantus began, “I do believe you are correct.” He avoided looking directly at Melias. “I could send you there. This chamber is the same enchanted stone used to make Lora Daine. No one can access it but me, and certainly not in this form.” The king began to change and transform. “I wish you to be from my sight as soon as possible.” In moments, he filled the chamber from top to bottom as a great golden dragon.

  “Wait a moment, Your Grace,” Morgoran stated, now clearly alarmed. “We have others in our party that are not with us. I know you are upset with me in particular, but we need to think this through. Sildariel may not be too happy to see us either.”

  “Why should she balk at your visit, Wielder?”

  Morgoran looked helplessly at Dorenn. “I am sorry for this, my lad.” Dorenn could feel essence being drawn. Why was Morgoran concerned for him?

  “You dare draw essence here, Morgoran Cleareyes?”

  “As you can see, Your Grace, my eyes are not clear anymore!” He hurled what appeared to be a huge magical net at the king, and it covered the dragon and then disappeared—the great dragon was frozen in place. “Listen to me, great dragon. The boy must not go to the woodland realm. I have foreseen that his dreams haunt him of a wood elf maiden.” He glanced at Dorenn. Finally Dorenn understood. Morgoran knew about the girl in his dreams. The wielder had foreseen something.

  The dragon king easily broke free of the restraint Morgoran had cast upon him. “So much the better,” he roared. “Your predictions so far have been less than concerning to me,” he said with fire bellowing afterward out into the upper chambers from his great maw.

  Morgoran grabbed Vesperin and Dorenn and turned them around. “Run for the doors!” Melias did not move.

  The king spoke in a great booming voice. “Those doors will close!” The doors slammed shut. “I should kill you for your crimes to my kind and drawing essence against me, but I made a promise to de Silva-Lora long ago. Be gone from my realm!”

  Morgoran spun around. “Your Grace!”

  “You helped my daughter and her unborn son as I am now helping you get the help you seek. I am not sure why you are so frightened,” his dragon voice boomed.

  Dorenn spontaneously started laughing. He found it somehow comical as to why a huge, sharp-teethed, golden-scaled dragon was not sure why they were frightened. Morgoran stopped and stared
at Dorenn, who laughed even harder at the old wizard’s face. “Did you know that you’re going bald?” Dorenn blurted out. The room was spinning. Dorenn suddenly didn’t feel very good. He saw Melias run to him, and he was somehow in his arms. “Did I fall?” Dorenn asked.

  “You see,” the dragon boomed. “He is reacting to my dragon magic, and I am not drawing essence. You have to go to the isle even if Sildariel is successful.”

  Steban braced himself against the walls of the chamber.

  Morgoran clinched his fists. “Your Grace, the Great Forest is too far for a Lora Daine! Even one this size used by the king of dragons. You’ll kill us!”

  “Then you will die. It’s better than letting him free with essence sickness.”

  “Wait, I have to tell you about Trigoth. I know where to find . . .” Morgoran let the words die on his lips and looked down at Dorenn, who was looking up from Melias’s arms. Morgoran’s expression dropped. In a flash of light, Morgoran disappeared. Another flash of light, and Dorenn was staring up into treetops. Very familiar treetops.

  King Amarantus changed back into his human appearance. Steban ran up to him from the throne.

  “Your Grace, you killed them!”

  “No, of course I didn’t. Old fool telling me it was too far. What does he know?” He winked at Steban. “I did want to take some of the starch out of that arrogant son of a goat, though.”

  “Where did you actually send them?”

  “Oh, I really sent them to Sildariel. She will help the boy and take care of my kin.”

  Steban took a relieved breath. “Foreshome. You sent them to the Great Sythian Forest. What if Morgoran was right? Sildariel will not like it.”

  “She will get over it. She always does.” He hesitated. “Steben, Morgoran mentioned they left someone behind. He was talking about Amadace’s new knight, was he not?”

  “Aye, he was. The first female dragon knight and Bren, First of Amadalea.”

  “Excellent, take me to them.”

  “Aye, Your Grace. I am curious, Your Grace. Why did you send Morgoran away and not help the boy? I am certain our clerics could have cured him.”

  The king took a deep breath. “I owed the bastard one.”

  “Your Grace?”

  The king regained his composure. “But he did help Dianora when she asked it of him. I can’t ignore that.”

  “Your Grace?”

  “Never mind, Steban. Take me to this new female dragon knight.”

  “Aye, Your Grace.”

  Chapter 9: The Talon Order

  “This is nerve-racking. I don’t know what is wrong with me.” Tatrice put her hand to her forehead.

  “I’m sure you will be all right. You have already met with the great dragon once before,” Bren reminded her.

  “I remember. You have told me about fifty times.”

  “Oh, and remind me to get another personal Lora Daine while we are here. I loaned mine to Ianthill.”

  “Do I get one?”

  “I am sure you do, just remember to ask Amadace.”

  As soon as the pair of dragon knights entered the chambers of Amadace the Blue, they were greeted by a radiant woman dressed in all white. She appeared to be no older than Tatrice in visage, but she modeled a full head of beautiful snow-white hair. Deep green eyes accented a slightly pale complexion.

  “Greetings, and welcome to the home of Amadace the Blue and his siblings.”

  Tatrice stopped and bowed, following Bren’s lead.

  “I am Bren Halla, and this is Tatrice Valloney Alemele.”

  “Ah, yes, the blue armor of Amadace. She is his knight. The first female dragon knight.”

  Tatrice blushed and immediately became angry with herself for it. “So I am told.”

  “I am Delanora.” She paused as if Tatrice and Bren should recognize her name.

  “Pleased to see you again,” Bren said.

  “Pleased to make your acquaintance,” Tatrice followed.

  Delanora led them to a couple of divans immediately inside the main chamber. “Amadace will be with you shortly.”

  Glancing around the room, Tatrice did not see much she could recognize from her vision with Amadace. The walls were covered in tapestries of dragons that Tatrice assumed were family members. The smooth floor appeared to be marble with elaborate carpets arranged under each piece of furniture. As with most of Draegodor that Tatrice had seen, the lighting was soft and low but bright enough to see everything clearly. It emanated from somewhere up above, unseen. A nice fire burned in an enormous fireplace on the opposite side of the room.

  “Ah, here you are.” Tatrice recognized the voice of Amadace. She also expected a dragon, but a man came strolling out. Both Bren and Tatrice stood up to greet him. He circled around the furniture, followed closely by Delanora. Tatrice was awestruck immediately by his beauty. He was as radiant as Delanora, except he wore jet black hair and had deep blue eyes. He was dressed in black leathers with a deep blue cape. He reached for Tatrice’s hand and kissed it. “My lady knight.” Tatrice bowed her head in acknowledgment. “My lord dragon.”

  “Amadace, my lord dragon, it is good to see you again,” Bren said.

  “And you, broodlord. How is Amadalea the Red?”

  “As wonderful as ever.”

  “Of course. Ah, here is my sister Delanorasylva. You remember her, I take it.”

  “Of course,” Bren said. “How could I forget?” He kissed Delanora’s hand. “I trust you are well, Shadesilver?”

  Tatrice’s mind went wild with recognition. This beautiful woman was Shadesilver—the white dragon that had come to her rescue before the battle at Brightonhold Keep! She was Amadace’s sister!

  “I didn’t expect Tatrice to recognize me in this form.”

  Tatrice spoke up. “I must admit, I didn’t. I am so sorry.”

  “No need for apologies. You have never seen me in this form as Bren has.”

  “Forgive me, but you are dragons. You are so beautiful in your natural forms. Why do you not appear that way now?”

  “Careful,” Amadace said. “Flattery will get you everywhere.” Tatrice thought the comment was a bit awkward and even a bit silly. “I tell you what,” he gestured to the divans, “sit down and I will explain a few things to my newest knight.”

  They all took their seats, and Amadace sat on the edge of his seat, leaning in toward Bren and Tatrice. Delanora sat back and rested her arm on the back of the divan.

  “We find that when meeting with our knights informally, it is easiest to speak in this form. Our natural state is unnecessarily intimidating. It is a bit uncomfortable for us to remain like this for too long, but I thought it might be a good idea meeting you like this for the first time in person.” He looked at Delanora. “Tatrice, have you ever heard of the Talon Order?”

  Tatrice thought for a moment before shaking her head.

  “What about you, Bren?”

  “I have heard rumors. I am not sure what it’s all about.”

  Amadace clasped his hands together. “It’s an exciting order that some of us dragons have been working on. In the old days, dragons were the guardians of man. Simply put, the Talon Order is reviving that promise. We are also dedicated in bringing together all the magical races and creations of Fawlsbane Vex. We feel that in order to accomplish this, we need to root out the evil that Toborne created in our world. We have even been gathering up users of wild magic in a secret location in Ishrak.”

  “The dragons are joining in the fight to take back the Sacred Land? That’s great news!” Bren said.

  “Well, no, not exactly. Only the dragons in the order. Officially, the dragons of Draegodor will continue to exercise neutrality. In fact, you might not want to mention it to any other dragons. Amadalea has joined us as of yesterday, but the others are still contemplating it, and King Amarantus hates the idea.”

  “Won’t he do something about it then?” Tatrice asked.

  Shadesilver grinned. “We think we can bring him a
round eventually. He knows about the order, of course, but he is choosing to ignore it at the moment.”

  “Before we discuss the order any further, I think we had better clear something else up.” He took Tatrice’s hands in his. “Tatrice, I have brought you through the trial of fire. You are a dragon knight, but Shadesilver and I have talked it through, and we agree the first female dragon knight should be the first knight of a female dragon. You are bound to my service and cannot be unbound. You can however, be rebound to the blood of my blood. If you agree, you will become Tatrice Alemele, First of Shadesilver the White.”

  Shadesilver beamed. “You would actually be my first knight ever. I am only now considered old enough.”

  “All right, Delanora, don’t get too excited,” Amadace cautioned.

  Tatrice could only think of her blue armor and how funny it would look with a white dragon. That is not a reason to say no, she told herself. Besides, it would be so much more comfortable to be the knight of a female. She would understand the needs of a woman much better. “Of course I accept,” Tatrice blurted out.

  Shadesilver handed her hands over to Tatrice. “We are going to learn all this together, Tatrice,” she said. “I will honor you always.”

  “And I, you,” Tatrice responded. Tatrice almost pulled back when she felt a strange tingling sensation enter her fingertips from Shadesilver, but the dragon shook her head.

  “Don’t pull back; just relax. Trust me.”

  At first, Tatrice thought Shadesilver was somehow bonding her, but as she watched her concentrate, she realized something else was happening. Little by little, Tatrice noticed her armor was changing from blue to white. Not only was it changing in color, but it was growing and shaping in places. The masculine lines of the armor were becoming more feminine and lacy. Sharp, masculine edges became sensuous female curves. Pieces that were previously uncomfortable for the female form settled in to become form-fitting and comfortable. Frilly patterns emerged on the breastplate and pauldrons.

  “Do you like it?” Shadesilver asked with excitement. “Come over here.” They both stood up, and Delanora led Tatrice to a mirrored wall.

  Tatrice had never seen armor more striking. It was still in the dragon scale tradition but now looked and felt feminine and sensual. “I love it! I thought I was going to have to get used to the blue armor, and I was almost sad to see it go until now.” She hugged Shadesilver. The dragon went stiff. “I’m sorry, Shadesilver.” Tatrice pulled back.