Now, she didn't know what to think.
"She's doing it, isn't she?" Adazzra touched Moonrazer's arm.
"I think so. The Medallion is lit, and Nightwind will focus on it."
"What does this mean?" Prince Varian asked.
"The Dragon Protector of the Sarl comes to the Exalted Warrior in response to the song of the Sword but without the Medallion, he will not land. The Medallion is what he sees, not the Warrior herself. Once on the ground, however, he will communicate with her."
"She will take on Dragon form, then?" Adazzra asked.
Moonrazer nodded. "It is how Nightwind speaks to the Exalted Warriors."
"This is how it has been throughout your history?" Varian asked.
"I assume so. He does not talk to me any other way."
He furrowed his brow. "How interesting."
Moonrazer turned to him. "I have not read every scroll in our libraries, but why would it be any different with anyone else?"
"I don't know," he said, shaking his head, "but we, too, have a relationship with the Dragons, but nothing like this. They are not considered Protectors of Tellan, but rather more like avengers or law keepers."
Before she could respond, she heard the unmistakable sound of Nightwind's wings cutting through the frigid Carrick air.
His golden eyes were focused on the now blazing ruby in the center of the Medallion. Moonrazer hoped he'd see who the wearer was and ascend again, but as she feared, he landed.
His great weight settled across the battlefield. The ground shook and terrible winds swept over the grounds from the beating of his wings.
Whiteshadow laughed, her voice ringing through the air, chilling Moonrazer's blood like the snow and ice never had.
"I am the Exalted Warrior," Whiteshadow cried in triumph. "The Dragon Protector has found me worthy and has come at my command."
Nightwind growled, and the ground shook. The stone throne creaked in response, and a great crack split the sacred pedestal on which the Sword of Justice had so recently rested.
Nightwind's neck snapped upward, and he blew fire and smoke into the sky.
The heat was like another sun, and Moonrazer felt it burn along her arms. The Dragon Protector growled again, a deafening sound.
He glared at Whiteshadow.
Moonrazer was not sure whether her sister could read the expression on the Dragon's face, but it was one of terrible anger. His jaws opened, and a hot, fetid wind washed over the field and crowd.
Then the Great Dragon bowed his head.
"He has accepted her."
"She is not transforming into a Dragon, however," Varian said.
Whiteshadow spun around. "Now, sister, you will answer for leading the Sarl astray." She pointed the Sword at Moonrazer. "You stole all the glory that belonged to me, and now you will die the painful death you deserve. I call upon the Sword to Judge you."
Bursts of blue and white light flashed from the ancient weapon.
"Stop!" Lucan screamed. "Stop, Whiteshadow. This cannot be the Holy One's will."
He ran forward and grabbed her shoulders. Whiteshadow held the sword awkwardly, fire cascading along its length.
She shook him off, and raised the Sword above her head. "Oh, Holy One," she cried, "use this weapon to judge the one who betrayed your people."
"No," Lucan said, falling to his knees.
The light of the Sword flashed. It traveled down the blade, covered Whiteshadow, before settling onto Lucan.
It consumed him. Fire cascaded along his strong frame. The air filled with the smell of burning flesh.
He slumped to the ground.
Whiteshadow stared down at him, her eyes wide. Her mouth opened in a silent scream.
Nightwind raised his great head and howled in anguish. The sound was deafening and chilling at once. A column of darkness billowed from his throat and rose into the air like a great lance.
It began to seep across the sky.
Whiteshadow knelt by the blackened body of Lucan. She looked up at the sky and saw the darkness spreading.
"The Dragon mourns for my love," she whispered. "It is right. Let the world be shrouded in darkness from now on."
Moonrazer took a step toward her sister. Regardless of what she'd done, Whiteshadow was in pain, and Moonrazer loved her. "Sister?" she said, quietly.
Whiteshadow glared at her. "It should have been you. You betrayed our people. You took them from the will of the Holy One. You deserve death."
She stood up, lifting the Sword in a clumsy high guard stance. Moonrazer couldn't believe her sister would really try to kill her.
"Whiteshadow, this day has seen enough death. Please, let me help you." She moved sideways toward the charred remains of Lucan. "We must prepare him for burial."
"No!" Whiteshadow screeched, her eyes wild and her face frighteningly pale. "You are not fit to touch him."
"Moonrazer, please back away from her." Varian took her hand. "She is not in her right mind. Even my magic cannot reach her to calm her."
Moonrazer shook her head. "She is my sister. She might want me to suffer as she has, but she is still family."
She took another step toward the body, her eyes on Whiteshadow. As she did, she heard a faint whistling.
Nightwind's head rose slightly above her.
A flash of thought traveled from the Dragon to her and she saw the course of the arrow in her mind. Varian was the intended target.
Her warrior's reflexes came to her service, as strong and sure as they'd ever been in her youth.
She spun and pushed her open hand against his chest, knocking him away. The arrow missed him by the width of a small finger. Perhaps her age was not catching up to her so quickly after all.
Nightwind let out another wail and spewed an even greater cloud of dark smoke into the sky. Soon the whole sky would be obscured.
Suddenly, Moonrazer's left shoulder burned, and she fell to her knees, screaming in pain.
The world around her was dark due to Nightwind's exhalation, but as she lay on the ground, what little she could see began to blur.
With difficulty, she turned her head, expecting to see flames engulfing her body, but instead she saw only a blue-fletched arrow in her shoulder.
The assassin, Lord Olivier, still lived.
Nightwind roared, and a great column of fire erupted from his mouth and streamed across the nearby mountain.
Moonrazer craned her head and saw the trees were alive with dancing flames.
Adazzra and Varian dropped beside her.
Moonrazer wondered what the Tree Woman had rubbed into her shoulder and why she hadn't felt it. Her body was beginning to go numb.
"It's poisoned," Adazzra said softly, looking at Varian. "Look at the skin around it."
"What do you see?" Moonrazer asked.
Varian took her hand and smiled at her, looking into her eyes. "It is a minor wound."
She suddenly felt warm and relaxed. "Are you in my mind?" Her voice sounded as though she'd been drinking ale with her warriors after a victorious battle.
"I would rather be in your heart." Varian touched her face. He'd never spoken to her like this. Was she dreaming?
"Your words are impertinent, Prince Varian. You should not speak to the Exalted Warrior like this."
"You should rest," he said. "You need to let us take care of your shoulder."
"That sounds like a good idea." She closed her eyes and felt herself drift away.
****
"I have never seen anything like this," Adazzra said, gently touching the shriveled skin around the arrow shaft.
Varian swallowed as he saw the greenish tinge that had begun to spread from the wound.
"It is a poison that was used in the Great War to kill wizards," he said, keeping his voice as calm and quiet as he could. "I shouldn't be surprised the king of Andarnnon kept a supply of this."
"She isn't a wizard," Adazzra said. "Does that mean she will survive it?"
The Prince's bloo
d froze. "It means she will have less mental strength to fight it. The poison eats the mind from the inside, incapacitating thought and magical ability before the victim is wracked with nearly unbearable pain. Once that begins, it takes over a day for death to end the suffering."
Adazzra clapped her hand over her mouth. "I have no cure for this."
"We need to get her to Tellan. The Weavers created an antidote," Varian said. The portals were not close enough, no horse fast enough.
"Leave her," Whiteshadow said as she approached them. "This is the judgment of the Holy One. She deserves this death. Let her perish in pain and misery as He has decreed."
Adazzra stood.
"Your man deserves better than to be left in this open field. Give him the honor the Consort of the Exalted Warrior would receive." She motioned to one of the warriors nearby. "Take him to the chapel."
"No," Whiteshadow said, turning to the sisters. "Take his body to my quarters." Suddenly her face brightened. "Wait. Take him to the main apartment of the Tower, which is mine now. Take my love there, and we will prepare him for his journey to Paradise."
She came back to Moonrazer's side as three Sisters of the Flame knelt next to Lucan, wrapping his body in one of their outer robes.
"My sister," Whiteshadow said, kneeling and stroking Moonrazer's hair. "You will never see Paradise, I am sorry to say." Her voice was lilting, tinged with a mad laughter. "Your betrayal has been your ruin and, at the last, I am sorry to see you die. Know that I will be a better Exalted Warrior than you have been. I will return the Sarl to the glory they should have."
With that, she stood up and walked behind the women carrying what was left of Lucan's body.
****
Adazzra turned back to Varian. "How can we get her to Tellan?"
He took Moonrazer's hand. Already she was growing cold, but he could feel her heart beating. When he reached into her mind, she was still there. However, he could feel her floating away.
"I don't know," he said. "The closest Portal is at least a day's ride away."
Nightwind roared again, spewing more of the mournful dark clouds into the sky.
Adazzra and Varian looked at the creature, who lowered his head close to Moonrazer's body. His mouth came within a hand's breadth of her, and Varian smelled the stench of carrion on the Dragons's breath.
A great yellow eye fixed on him. He felt the probing touch of Nightwind's mind push against his with a power that dwarfed his own. Then Nightwind raised his head, and Varian swayed with dizzyness.
Adazzra gestured toward the Dragon. "Nightwind could get us there, but he only responds to the Exalted Warrior with the Sword and Medallion."
Varian's mind still tingled from the touch of the Dragon. He didn't understand what Nightwind was trying to tell him.
"He's trying to speak to my mind."
The Sarl who were still surrounding them began to murmur among themselves.
"Can you understand him?" the Tree Woman asked.
"His thoughts are not like those of people. I can't feel more than just a touch. I don't believe he can understand me either."
"Then it is hopeless."
He took a deep breath. "Do your people have Dragon Speakers?"
She shrugged and lifted a hand in resignation. "Awhyrrl does have a Dragon Protector but he never appears to us. Moonrazer is the only person I've ever known who could communicate with one, and she can only do it when in Dragon form."
"There is a group of mystics on Andarnnon who can speak to the Dragons," Varian said. "They go through a dangerous ritual. Their skulls are pierced and a drop of Dragon blood is inserted into their brains. Not all of them survive the procedure or the touch of the blood. Of those who survive, many go blind and lose their reason."
"Well," Adazzra said, "we don't have any of these men here."
"These mystics are distant relatives of the wizards of Tellan. It's possible that if you put a drop of Nightwind's blood in my brain, I could speak to him."
She swallowed. "If we had the blood, I might be able to do it. I can make a potion that can carry medications and such through the skin and into the body. If I mixed it with Dragon blood and applied it to the base of your neck, it would travel directly into your brain. It would be less risky than puncturing your skull, but none of that matters. How could we even get the blood?"
Varian took a deep breath and looked at Nightwind.
The animal was so massive that his head was as large as Varian's Throne Room. It was impossible to see both of the huge eyes at the same time.
If Varian was wrong, Nightwind could kill him instantly. However, Varian believed the creature loved Moonrazer and wanted to help.
"I'll take care of getting the blood."
Adazzra looked at him. "Are you sure you want to do this?"
"Moonrazer will die if we don't try." He swallowed. "I love her, Mistress Adazzra. I couldn't live with myself if I lost her."
Chapter Twenty-six
Varian feared they might be too late.
Moonrazer's body was growing colder. However, Nightwind apparently was trying to help. Every few seconds, the animal would gently breathe warm air on her.
Varian took her into his arms. How could this have happened just as he realized how important she was to him?
Would the Holy One allow another woman he loved to die, and again by the hand of an Andarnnon assassin?
Moonrazer moaned softly, and Varian's heart skipped a beat. Nothing else mattered now but getting her to the Weavers. If her life could be saved, he'd happily go before the Dragons at the Festival and offer his life.
Adazzra finished clearing a section of the field of snow and returned to him. "The servants will return soon. It is time to get the blood."
Varian carefully laid Moonrazer on the ground. Two of the warriors who were hovering nearby hurried to cover her with furs they'd retreived from the barracks.
He stood and pulled his sword out of its scabbard. "I will need to cut him."
Adazzra gasped. "He'll kill you."
"I don't think so. He loves her as much as I do and will do whatever is necessary to save her. Besides, I don't intend to harm him and—" He looked up at the immense beast. "—I'm not sure he'll even notice."
One of Nightwind's feet, which rested about fifty paces away, was as large as Moonrazer's stable. Varian intended to make a small cut.
He kept watch on the Dragon's face as he approached, but even though Nightwind was aware of his movements, the animal sat still.
Varian braced his feet, glanced at Nightwind's face again, then swung his blade at the huge foot.
A low growl issued from the Dragon's throat but he didn't move.
A spark flew up where the blade hit, as if Varian had struck a stone. He tried again, using a spinning strike. Nothing.
Then he tried to insert the weapon between Nightwind's scales, but, again, with no luck.
He feared there was no way he could penetrate the Dragon's naturally thick armor. Fearing defeat, Varian looked at the great creature and saw a fiery yellow eye meet his own.
Nightwind withdrew his great claw from the ground, knocking Varian backward as he did so. The Prince felt the stab of a muscle spasm in his back but used his thought control to ignore the pain.
The Dragon raised his claw to the right side of his chest. With a slow, careful motion, he pressed a talon through his armored flesh and allowed a stream of blood to flow.
Where it hit the snow, it spattered and steam flew upwards, giving the air a smell of metal and sulfur.
Varian's heart raced. Adazzra filled a bowl with the dark red ichor.
Adazzra covered the bowl with a cloth and said, "Now we must pray that the servants return in time."
Varian took Adazzra's hand, and she raised her voice in prayer. She prayed in what, to Varian, was an alien tongue. The sound made him think of soft, percussive music, like the wind blowing through trees.
He joined his prayers to hers, but silently, raising them in
his heart.
As he held the steaming bowl of blood, the hot liquid threatened to burn his fingers. Though the frigid air chilled him, sweat beaded on his forehead.
This was the only chance Moonrazer had to survive, and if he failed her in this, his own life would be worthless.
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