Adazzra motioned toward several figures on horseback, galloping toward them in the gloom created by Nightwind. "Who is that?"
They came from the wrong direction to be carrying the herbs.
In moments, they'd crossed the open ground, and Varian recognized Olaf and several Sarl warriors.
"Is she injured?" Olaf hurried to Moonrazer's side.
"She still lives," Varian said. "There is hope."
"What happened?"
"So many things," Adazzra said. "To begin with, Lucan was named Consort Intended."
"And Sword Bearer for the Confluence," Olaf said. "Where is he?"
"He is dead," Varian said.
"He gave the Sword of Justice to Whiteshadow," Adazzra said.
"Why would he do that?"
Varian shook his head. "They were lovers and had this planned all along."
"So Whiteshadow was named Exalted Warrior." Olaf looked at Nightwind. "The Dragon Protector came, so she was accepted."
"It doesn't matter," Adazzra said. "She had the Sword and named Moonrazer as a traitor to the Sarl."
"A traitor?" Olaf held Moonrazer's hand, stroking it as though trying to keep her warm. "Moonrazer brought the Sarl back to their homeland."
Adazzra nodded. "But Whiteshadow believes they should not be at peace. She tried to judge Moonrazer as a betrayer, but the Sword chose to judge Lucan as the betrayer instead."
"The Exalted Warrior killed her consort," Olaf said in a quiet voice. "That was prophesied in one of the scrolls we brought back. The Honored One said if this came true it would be a sign that the Navin were truly gone and that her people could move back to the mainland."
Adazzra looked at her friend. "I have never heard that title."
Olaf briefly told them about his experiences with the Portal, finding Greenblade in the planting building, and Grayflower, the Honored One.
Varian startled at the sound of the name Greenblade. He remembered the hallucinations during the Hunt. When he had seen Violetta's ghost, she had been calling for their daughter, Greenblade. Was it possible this girl was his daughter?
"Olaf, was this Greenblade born a Sarl?"
Olaf considered the Prince. "She was not. Her mother, Arrowbreaker, found her left on a rock in a stream on World Lireek."
Adazzra looked at the Prince. "Do you think this girl is your daughter?"
Varian swallowed, but kept his eyes on Olaf. "Did you see any kind of magical ability in her?"
"She is able to grow plants that are not normally able to live on this world."
A lump formed in Varian's throat.
"Something else interesting," Olaf said. The serpent man met Varian's eyes. "There is a Dreaming Giant in a cave outside the village. I think her magic comes from him."
Varian felt an elation run through him. His daughter lived, and she was a Weaver.
"I believe she did bear a resemblance to you, Your Highness," Olaf said. "She has eyes like yours."
Varian took a deep breath and let it out. "My daughter lives."
A rapid drumming of hoofbeats announced an approaching horse. Oakgold had returned from the castle. Her horse was sleek with sweat and panted as the servant leaped from the saddle.
She tossed a pouch to Adazzra, who in turn fished out several dried leaves of purple and green, as well as a handful of seeds.
"Did you have any trouble?" Varian asked the servant.
Oakgold shook her head. "Whiteshadow is preoccupied with caring for Lucan's body. She did not notice me at all."
After some grinding and mixing, Adazzra added a few drops of the Dragon blood to the potion.
When everything was combined, she placed the bowl over the thicker, hotter parts of the pool of Dragon blood until it began to steam.
"The potion is ready," Adazzra said finally. "There is no guarantee this will work."
Varian looked at Moonrazer and felt a pang of alarm at how pale she looked. "I know, but it is the only chance we have."
She scooped some of this thick liquid out with a metal spoon and held it ready. He leaned toward her.
"Do it."
****
The instant the potion touched his neck, Varian thought his entire body had been wrenched apart by creatures with sharp teeth.
He screamed in agony. Adazzra stopped.
"No," he shouted. "Keep going. Moonrazer needs us."
The pain ripping through him made it impossible for him to understand where he was any more. Surely, he'd died and been sent to the place of punishment for his initial refusal to forgive Violetta or for wedding another woman while she still lived.
Fire rushed through his veins and pooled in his head, which threatened to burst apart from the pressure.
"Oh, Holy One," he cried, "forgive my sinfulness. Release me from the torment of fire and pain."
The agony increased as his skin melted off his body, and his bones were split and crushed. He no longer knew himself.
He was the fire and that which was consumed.
The snow of Carrick melted away beneath his touch, and the world was left scorched and devastated. Rejoicing in the destruction his mere thoughts had wrought, he leapt into the sky, and his essence mingled with the stars and clouds.
The heavens were his home and the worlds only playthings, children's toys to be cherished or discarded at will.
This was the life he was meant to live, the existance for which he'd been created.
That which had been Varian was now a god, an immortal being, answerable to only his desires and wants. All would quake before his word, and he would reshape the Known Worlds to his liking.
"Stop." The word filled his mind, but he had not thought it.
Who dared to speak to one as mighty as himself? What inferior being risked the annihilation he could accomplish with…
"You must come back to yourself. What you toy with is not for a mortal man."
Mortal man?
At the thought, pain slammed into his already raw body. His mutilated limbs reattached themselves to the bleeding, shapeless mass that had once been his torso.
Muscles and skin grew over charred, broken bones, and he became aware of cold air washing over him. A whispered sound brushed against his consciousness.
"Prince Varian?"
Was he this man? The words seemed to have a long-forgotten meaning, and he gripped the ground, snow and ice sifting between his fingers.
Fingers that no longer hurt.
He opened his eyes to look at them and saw Adazzra wiping his forehead with the hem of her robe.
"Can you see me?" she asked.
Had he a voice? He didn't remember, but he knew the Dragon sitting behind him.
"You are a Dragonspeaker." The voice in his head came from that magnificent creature.
"I am a Dragonspeaker," Varian repeated, testing both his voice and his mind.
"Can you save Moonrazer?" Adazzra's voice brought him back to himself.
He turned to her and felt a fraction of the god-like confidence return. "We can."
Standing, he marveled that his body was intact. Nightwind's thoughts rested in a corner of his mind, and with just a touch he could hear them and respond.
Surprisingly, he could also feel Moonrazer's scattered consciousness even though he hadn't reached out to her. Perhaps her connection to Nightwind made her thoughts easier for him to read.
"Can you take us to Tellan?" Varian asked Nightwind with his thoughts.
"I can," the Dragon replied, "but is that your wish? I can only approach Countless Rings on the day of the Confluence. I could take you to your daughter tonight, but tonight only. You could have an heir to present at the Dragon Moon Festival, and Tellan would be saved."
"If I don't get Moonrazer to the Weavers, she will die."
"Yes, but your world will be saved if you go to Greenblade."
Varian looked at the woman he loved. "How can I leave my love?"
"What action would do the most good?"
Nightw
ind's words pierced Varian's heart. If he were reunited with his daughter, the Dragons would leave Tellan in peace for another generation.
No one would suffer under Rillaur's rule. The Weavers would remain safe, and the land would not be exploited for Andarnnon greed.
However, Varian's heart would be eternally broken, knowing he abandoned a woman he loved more than anything else in this life.
Nightwind spoke again. "Your thoughts are conflicted."
"I don't know the right choice to make."
"Moonrazer would trade her life for the certainty of saving you and your people. She didn't hesitate to do it for you today."
She had known she was stepping into the path of that arrow.
Varian stared at the pale-skinned woman lying before him.
"Varian?" Adazzra touched his arm.
Hot tears ran down his cheeks, and he gritted his teeth. "My daughter is alive. I need to get her. My people need her."
"What about Moonrazer?" Adazzra asked, her eyes wide. "If you leave her, she'll die."
"Her death could save my people," Varian said. "I must choose."
Oakgold cradled Moonrazer's head in her lap. "There is no right choice."
Varian remembered the words of Brother Soldias as the mystic tore apart the braided rope.
"You must find these women, seek them out, and find the one who will lead thee to the path that will save our world."
Now he knew who those two women were—Moonrazer and Greenblade.
Greenblade was safe, but Moonrazer was not. If he tried to save Moonrazer and failed, then Rillaur would take control of Tellan.
What had Brother Soldias said?
"There will be slavery, wealth, death, and life. Eventually, however, they will prosper."
If he could save Moonrazer, and she agreed to marry him, perhaps they could conceive a child that would be old enough to kick by the time of the Dragon Moon.
"There is a chance," Varian said, "that I can save my people without leaving Moonrazer to die. However, if I leave her, Greenblade will save Tellan."
He looked at Oakgold. Her eyes were shining with unshed tears. He sensed her fear.
Finding Greenblade was the safer choice for the people of Tellan.
He saw the desperate hope in Adazzra's eyes. He saw love and fear.
Love for Moonrazer and fear for her life.
Those were the same feelings he had. He decided.
Varian said, "Nightwind, I choose to save Moonrazer's life. Please take us to Tellan."
"For the Exalted Warrior of the Sarl, it is my honor to serve."
Nightwind rested his wing on the ground at a low angle. Varian lifted Moonrazer into his arms and stepped onto the wing, finding his footing. He stayed steady, mounting through the darkness toward the Dragon's back.
He could scarcely believe what he saw when he reached the summit.
Nightwind was a Dragon on a scale far beyond other Dragons, and he could see a cabin secured to the creature with chains.
Upon entering the shelter, he laid Moonrazer on a padded mattress on the wooden floor. Adazzra and Oakgold had followed him into the cabin.
Varian looked at the servant and said, "With Whiteshadow on the Throne of Carrick, a voice of sanity may be needed here. Perhaps you should stay."
Oakgold raised her chin proudly. "I surely would be that voice of reason, but I will not leave my mistress to strangers. I am sworn to serve her, and I would rather do that on a foreign world than stay here and be forced to serve the Pretender."
Varian looked down at Olaf still on the snow-covered ground. "Are you coming?"
"Yes," the snake man said. "Nightwind's scales are uncomfortable against my skin. Give me a moment."
"Olaf," Adazzra said, "we must hurry."
Olaf slithered quickly up the wing. A sympathetic tremor went down the Dragon's spine and nearly knocked Varian over. Apparently, Olaf's skin wasn't comfortable to Nightwind either.
"Moonrazer is very cold," Adazzra said. "She needs to get help as soon as possible."
"Take us to the top of Mount Islidor on Northern Tellan. The Weavers are there. Hurry."
Varian imagined his world and a secret cleft near the summit, sending the image to the Dragon.
Nightwind raised his wings. Instantly, the wind howled, and the world shook like the swelling of a powerful ocean wave.
They were in the sky.
****
When Nightwind landed in a clearing on the top of a mountain, Adazzra feared that Varian had made a mistake in where he guided the Dragon. She saw no buildings or anything that could house these healers he said could save Moonrazer.
The Dragon lowered his body and wings to allow them to dismount, but the Tree Woman hesitated. "Where are we? There's nothing here."
Varian gently lifted Moonrazer into his arms. "Welcome to Tellan." He climbed off Nightwind's back.
Adazzra, Olaf, and Oakgold followed. As soon as they had stepped off the wing, Nightwind folded it. He took two ponderous steps, shaking the ground. Then the Dragon leaped, disappearing over the edge of the mountain. Moments later, he sailed into the sky.
The Tree Woman looked around, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. There was only quiet and cold mist. "I don't understand."
"You will."
The Prince moved to the middle of the large patch of rocky ground. He laid Moonrazer down carefully. Then he stood, raised his hands, and called out.
"Wizards of the North, the Prince of Tellan has come to see you. I bring friends from other Worlds."
A large white, circular building made of stone and wood appeared.
"This is it." Varian lifted Moonrazer into his arms.
Adazzra stared at the building, which grew more ornate the nearer she got. Snowflakes and fir trees were carved in the door and window frames.
The door of the building opened, and a woman dressed in a white robe stepped out. The snow stopped falling.
"Prince Varian, my brother, your presence is a surprise, but we have sensed the Amadalick poison."
The woman's eyes were white with no pupil visible. Her pale skin and white hair, combined with the eyes, gave her an ethereal look, as though she were made of dreams. Her smile, however, was warm and welcoming.
She stepped forward and embraced Varian.
"Christabel, you look well."
"I am happy, my brother, but we have little time for idle chat. We must hurry." She motioned for them to follow her inside.
The room they entered took up the whole interior of the building, and six people sat in a circle on wooden chairs in the center. They surrounded a colorful mosaic of a waterfall and cave built into the floor.
Varian carried Moonrazer through a side door and up a set of narrow stairs to the second floor, which contained a center hallway and a dozen or more rooms on either side.
Christabel opened one of the rooms, and Varian hurried in, laying Moonrazer on the bed.
Immediately, Christabel leaned over her. "You should have gotten her here sooner."
"I did the best I could."
Adazzra went over to her. "I am a healer from—"
"Yes, I know. Your skill is of no use here."
Stunned at the other woman's manner, Adazzra stepped back.
"Sometimes Weavers forget how to interact with outsiders," Varian whispered. "They are isolated most of their lives and the social conventions don't matter."
"It is not necessary to apologize for me, brother. I am not just your baby sister. Mistress Adazzra, I am sorry if I offended you, but there is no time for discussion. I must start work now."
Varian asked, "Can you save the Exalted Warrior?"
Christabel looked toward him with her useless eyes and smiled. "She is not the Exalted Warrior any longer, is she? Another has taken her place."
"Unfortunately, yes. Can you save her?"
His sister stood and tucked her hands into the wide sleeves of her robe. "I must be allowed to work. Please leave."
She
herded them out of the room and closed the door behind them.
Sword and Illusion Page 35
