Without a word, Specter dipped his head to the dragon. As he spun on his heels, his long, gray cape whipped around his ankles and he dissolved from ghostlike transparency into total invisibility.
“The child will be safe with him,” Albino rumbled.
“I should say so.” Patient held his staff with both hands, leaning on it, looking at the place where Specter had stood.
The dragon’s chest heaved, and smoke drifted from his nostrils. “Specter is an appropriate alias for him,” he said, “and it suits our purposes for the time being. His past would only interfere with his mission. By giving him a new name, I have protected him from the ears of all workers in sorcery. Evil fears what it does not understand, and it may be that Letrias and Specter will one day meet. When that day comes”—Albino flexed his clawed fist—“Letrias will realize the full extent of his error.”
The shepherd remained silent for a time, his blue eyes staring into Albino’s pink ones. Then he let go of his staff with one hand and stroked the spine of a large book on a nearby shelf. “Why did you do it?”
With an honest, curious expression, the dragon said, “To what are you referring?”
Patient said, “Rose’el gave you two items for the boy. One was from his mother. One was from his father. A gold band and a brass ring … but you only gave him the ring.”
“Because this’1—Albino opened his hand and the gold band materialized out of thin air, resting in his palm—“is the ancestry that he need not know. This is his link to a mother who neither loved him, nor loved the Creator. She chose to be the evil that she was … she chose to be a witch.
“And, apart from this, it was Kesla’s wish. I have vowed that his son will not follow in his parents’ footsteps.” The dragon ground the band in his scaled palm until gold dust sifted between his fingers. With a gentle puff of air, he dispersed the dust into the room in a small yellow cloud.
A moment of silence passed between the dragon and the shepherd. A moment filled only with their individual thoughts and whatever memories their conversation had brought to mind.
“What happens now?” the shepherd asked.
“Now I must plant the most important seeds of all.”
“And you are sure that they are ready?”
“The dreams will lead Dantress on the correct path, my friend. You can rest assured of that.” The dragon lowered his head level with the shepherd’s. “All things will fall into place and the world as we know it will never be the same.”
Six months after his daughters returned from the lands bordering the Eiderveis River, the great white dragon emerged from a cool, moist passageway in Shizar Palace. The rough stones scraped against his scaled sides as he brushed the wall. He turned, spattering a weak flame against the door in finalization as he pushed it shut. If it had been midnight, then the doorway would have revealed itself with a glowing outline, but now, in the wee hours of the morning, it was indistinguishable from the rest of the corridor wall.
He turned and listened to the faint sobs coming from the corridor’s end.
“F-fairest among the g-great d-dragon’s daughters, I will m-miss you.”
“I know,” Dantress replied weakly. “I know all too well, Mivere. But—please—think of me often, for I will often think of you.”
Taking a few gentle steps, Albino stretched out his neck, peering around the corner.
Dantress, wearing her purple dress, reached out to the lowest blue-white branch of the glowing Fairy Tree and caught one of Mivere’s tears as it dripped off his narrow chin.
“I will be back,” she whispered. “You can be assured of that.”
The fairy’s shoulders shook and his green eyes glowed back at her. “Do you promise me, fairest of the dragon’s daughters? Do you promise?”
“Yes, Mivere, I promise!” Then she let the tiny fellow kiss her nose and smiled sadly at him before backing from the tree.
Albino eased his way out of the corridor into the main hallway, placed his large clawed hand around Dantress’s shoulders. And then he looked down at her, and she gazed back and firmed her lips.
“I am ready, Father.”
The sisters stood before the great white dragon, not venturing to say a word. Dantress felt as if the enormous throne room, with its high walls and polished marble floors and imposing twisted metal throne, pressed in on her.
“A different sort of test now awaits you,” the dragon said, scraping his claw across the floor as he addressed his daughters. “You will be journeying into the east, to a forest in this world of Subterran known as the Western Wood. A cave has been fashioned for you there out of solid stone. The creatures of the woods will be your only companions, and you must dwell there as guardians of that place.
“Remember what you are: daughters of a dragon. It is my blood that runs through your veins and my blood that empowers you. Beware of humankind, for many are corrupt. But beware also because you are made in the likeness of their race and, joined with men, you are capable of bearing children. Yet yours is dragon blood. If you bear a child, then know this—you will, your own life, have to give, in order to bring that life into the world.”
Tilting his head back, Albino opened his jaws. Flames leapt forth and struck the ceiling. Instead of dissipating, the fire whirled into a vortex of energy. Another portal opened.
One by one the sisters walked up the steps to the throne. Each of them grabbed hold of Albino’s hand so that he could hoist them onto his back. Dantress delayed for a few minutes, wishing for a less imperfect world. A place where good reigned would be nice, free from turmoil, pain, suffering and all else unpleasant.
Why couldn’t she stay at the palace and lead a peaceful life? Or, better yet, why couldn’t she wait for a gallant young man to come along and sweep her into his arms? And then she would raise a family.
But no, that could not be. For it was the blood of a dragon, and not the blood of humanity, that ran through her veins. And the two could never mix—not if she wanted to live.
What was it the flaming sword had prophesied? She thought back to when she saved Mivere from certain death. It was then that she first saw the sword and heard its strange words:
“It is given to humanity to bear after their kind. Yet to the daughters of the great white dragon will be given the choice of joining with the race they resemble, the race of humanity. Their lives they must willingly give if they are to bring a life into the world. This curse is laid upon them, but it is a blessing in disguise, for in the ultimate sacrifice is proven the ultimate love, and a child born out of ultimate sacrifice will bring joy and not sorrow to the one that bears her.”
So clearly did she remember the words, that she could almost hear them repeating inside her mind, like distant echoes skipping over the surface of a large body of water.
With a steady hand she reached up, accepting the dragon’s help onto his back.
“We are ready, Father,” Caritha said.
Albino rose into the portal and streamed to their destination in a blaze of color and light.
The white dragon emerged from the portal, and it closed behind him with a snap. Dantress, astride his back, drank deeply of the crisp, flowery air. Fluffy tidbits of pollen floated on the gentle moving air, filling the flat meadows around them like a haze. It gave the scene a surreal feel, dreamlike, separated from reality.
She reached out, caught one of the elusive pollen clumps. A red petal wafted into her hand and she breathed in the smell of roses.
But the dragon shifted beneath her, and she grabbed hold of his scales. The dragon’s legs methodically took step after step and the ground crept away behind her. Then he picked up speed. Each long stride brought her closer to the distant setting sun, Yimshi—and a descent to unknown lands miles below.
The dragon shot off the edge and the sisters screamed. They left the beautiful flowery meadows, flying off of the land they knew and over lands that they knew nothing of.
Glancing behind, Dantress saw clouds obscuring the
meadow, hiding the kingdom of Emperia in veils of innocent white mist.
Around the dragon the meadow, clouds, sunset, and lands below blended, like mixing paint, into myriads of color and light. Nothing except her and her sisters and the dragon were visible, and she supposed that they were traveling at a speed unparalleled by any other creature.
As surprisingly as the flight had begun, it now ended. The streaming colors coalesced, resolving into trees rushing beneath them and a purplish-pink sky above. The great white dragon angled back his wings and dropped through the treetops, thudding into the forest, jarring Dantress. She looked around, disoriented, wondering where in Subterran he’d brought them.
In one unified action the sisters swung their legs over the dragon’s side and sprang to the ground as he crouched to permit them an easier descent. The forest’s floor cushioned Dantress’s feet as she landed. She looked around at the forest.
Crooked old trees and twisted young ones almost completely surrounded her, with the exception of the spot of forest directly in front of her where wild grape vines dangled over a low cliff face. A triangular wedge cut into this wall of solid stone, no more than six feet wide and ten feet high.
Albino’s claws pulled aside the vines, revealing the triangular mouth of a cave. Then he released the vines, hiding it once more.
“Your assignment here, my daughters,” he rumbled, “will not be immediately apparent to you. This cave will provide you with shelter from the elements until the time comes for you to leave this place.”
With a gentle sweeping gaze, the dragon looked upon his daughters. His wings spread, stretched toward the cloudless sky, his scales glowing pure white in the gathering darkness. Fastening his pink eyes on Dantress, he lifted her chin with one of his claws.
His touch felt cool on her skin and she smiled up at him. But the pink eyes did not smile back and a lone tear formed in the dragon’s eye. “Be safe, my daughter.”
The dragon roared, shaking the ground as he shot through the forest canopy. The first stars twinkled in the heavens and he disappeared like a comet into the western sky.
A few days after leaving his daughters in the Western Wood, Albino strode through a different forest. Rain pelted his scales and his outstretched wing. He glanced sideways. Rivulettes of water ran down his face, weaving over his scales while he remained dry. He lowered his head to see beneath his wing.
Patient the shepherd smiled back at him. The dragon’s wing made one enormous canopy against the rain. “We are almost there?”
“Yes, my friend. It is not far from here.” The dragon pushed his head through some drooping branches and emerged in a grassy field. An enormous tree rose from one corner of the field, some of its branches large enough to hold even a creature as large as he. But he had not come for the tree.
At the far side of the open land, partially hidden by a tangled mass of foliage, lay a one-story structure, its outer walls crumbling. Roots wove between its stones, separating them from the mortar, and a lone pillar stood atop the landing in front of its open entrance. White marble steps fronted it, twenty-four of them to be precise. His feet sank a couple feet in the sodden soil as he stepped toward the ancient structure. His claws gripped the lowest steps and he extended his wing up the steps so that the shepherd marched forward.
The shepherd turned to him. “Understand what it means for you to enter this place. You will only be able to do so once and I refuse to ever do so again. We will obtain the sword and the key—that will be the end of it.”
Deep in his throat Albino rumbled. “Let us be done with this.”
Pointing into the open, crumbling entry to the structure, Patient set his mouth in a sober line. “Fire a steady burst of flames at this position.”
Flames roared from the dragon’s mouth, struck the stones. The shepherd closed his eyes and mouthed a silent prayer. The flames rolled off the stones, spun around them. They tornadoed into the structure and electric energy sizzled forth. The shepherd and the dragon were swallowed in a flash of light and the world he knew receeded behind him.
When the portal landed them in the place beyond the dragon looked about. Here at last, the hidden realm.
“Stay behind me,” the shepherd warned. He led the way through dark ruins illuminated from above by a dim glow that had no apparent source. He slowly made his way down ancient stone streets between crumbled buildings. It took hours to reach it. At last they stood before the citadel.
The dragon gazed at the iron pedestal that rose from the smooth landing before the citadel. Against the darkness of his surroundings the pedestal glowed with clear, vibrant light emanating from a dome of energy sizzling over its surface.
On the pedestal and enclosed beneath the energy dome hovered a large, shiny, gold key with the miniature figure of a dragon wrapped around its oval handle. Flames were spewing from the dragon’s mouth and entwining themselves around the key’s bar and the gold appeared to burn with fire. The end of the key was composed of various prongs, evidently used to open some kind of lock.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?”
Albino turned his bony, white head to look down at his bearded, white-haired friend. “Then this is it: the Key of Living Fire?”
“Yes. This is it.” Patient held his shepherd’s staff with both wrinkled hands and leaned on it as he scrutinized the key with narrowed eyes. “Good,” he murmured. “Very good. It is safe.”
“Did you expect anyone else to find this place?” The dragon growled. “It is buried from the world and only you and I know of its existence.”
Patient chuckled. “One can never be certain that a secret like this will be kept safe. And this is one secret that, I daresay, any wizard would give anything to know. But the battle that was waged in this place was like no other and the collisions of demonic power with that of the powers granted by God opened many portals out of this realm. I feared that someone would have discovered one of those portals by now.”
“It has been long ages since this realm was hidden from the world, Patient. If none have entered it is likely that none will.” Something crunched under his rear foot as he shifted it and he spun around.
“Ah—see? It is as I feared.” Patient walked over to the skeletal remains of a man and pulled the now crushed helmet off the skull and examined it. “Strange—I am not familiar with this design—it encased this man’s entire head.” He held it up for the dragon to see. “Do you?”
Albino shook his head and tapped the cracked, oval window in the helmet’s face. “It seems you were right: others have found this place. We must act now, before our enemies learn of the key.”
“Right you are!” Patient threw down the helmet and walked up the stone steps that led to the pedestal. The energy dome sparked as he approached and stretched his hand toward it. “The Shield of Purity was put here as a safeguard against any who serve darkness,” he said as his fingers pierced the dome. “Only those whose motives are right and proper and those whose hearts are pure can ever penetrate it.”
“What of those whose hearts are not pure?”
The shepherd laughed and pointed at the skeletal remains.
Albino clamped the claws of his left hind leg over the bones. So this was the end result of an unworthy soul touching that which should remain in its place. How many, he wondered. How many had touched this ancient shield and died? He threw the bones into the surrounding blackness. “I see. Very effective.”
“Quite!” Patient’s fingers preceded his hand through the energy dome and closed around the gold key. The miniature dragon spurted more flames as if fighting against him, but he drew it out and held it up. His gaze never left it.
Flames grew in the darkness and the light of several thousand towering torches illuminated the ancient stone columns of a ruined city, stretching for as far as he could see. Broken pottery lay scattered in the abandoned streets and enormous stones, dislodged from crumbling buildings, peppered the ground. The buildings’ proportions indicated human architecture and he env
isioned for a moment what it had been like to see the city in its prime.
One structure, alone, had stood the test of time. Before him, beyond the pedestal, rose a cathedral. Its spiked spires disappeared into the darkness far above him and its marble walls stood strong. An aura of dim energy surrounded it and he knew that the thing for which he had come was close at hand.
Patient glanced up at the cathedral’s spires, the key still held in his left hand. “You understand, my friend,” he said, “that this power once destroyed an entire civilization?”
Albino grasped the edge of the stone steps leading up to the cathedral and pulled himself up, carefully avoiding the pedestal. “It was you that suggested this, Patient. Not I!”
“Still, it is you that wants it now.”
“Yes.” The dragon craned his neck to look up then averted his eyes in disgust. “If it can be used again to avert the death of the innocent then I am willing.”
The shepherd looked up again. “You don’t fear what sleeps there, do you?”
“Not for myself. But for my children? Yes!” He growled and nodded at the cathedral. “If you will not let me face him, then let us proceed.”
“As you wish.” Patient preceded him to the cathedral’s double doors, his staff tapping lightly against the stone floor and his robes trailing behind him. Engraved in ivory upon the doors was the figure of a snarling white dragon with amethyst eyes.
Inserting the flaming key, Patient gave the doors a push and they opened inward (with a growl that sounded very much like a dragon). They entered a room several times higher than its width. Ivory and black tiles checkered the floor, a stained-glass window depicting the white dragon filled a portion of the back wall, and jewel-like stones hung from the broad rafters. The stones gave off a steady, soft light.
Swords of the Six Page 17
