A Balance Broken (Dragonsoul Saga)

by Hartke, J. T.

  Dorias ran a hand over his close-cropped, salt-and-pepper hair. He knew his own wings held far more silver than Merl’s. “But now you are done for the season, true?”

  The raven hopped from his perch to Dorias’ shoulder. He stretched his wings out to shade the wizard’s head from the noonday sun and rubbed his onyx beak on Dorias’ collar.

  “Good.” Pushing the door open, Dorias climbed down the spiral stairwell leading from the roof of his tower. “We have many things to do.”

  Following the downward curve of the stairwell, Dorias passed his bedroom. He descended further, ignoring the door to the library. He had crammed it full of carved shelves in a dizzying array of styles, each packed with books, scrolls, and odd items found on his many journeys. Continuing down the wide stone steps, he spiraled past a dozen more doors, some of which opened onto rooms that would confuse the average being. One of them appeared to open out onto a terrace overlooking the Jade Sea from one of the thousands of islands surrounding it. It was an illusion of course, an illusion Dorias had created with a self-sustaining spell of Psoul magic, the Aspect of the Dreamers.

  “The Dreamrealm is closed to me, Merl.” Dorias shook his head. “I have tried to enter it for the last several nights. It is as if a dark cloud obscures it. I have never felt such a thing.”

  He touched a carved walnut door near the bottom of the tower, and it swung open on its own. Rosewood paneled the walls inside. An array of shelves tucked into the paneling held his favorite tomes and trophies. A rather simple maplewood desk sat squarely in the middle, while ordinary windows looked out on the Ravenswood forest behind it. He walked over and pulled out the soft, velvet-upholstered chair. He sat in it with a comfortable sigh, the warm velvet ensconcing him. Merl hopped up to perch upon its tall back and turned to clean his wings.

  “I hope your presence can help me break into the Dreamrealm,” Dorias told the raven, opening one of the side drawers. “This might help as well.” He pulled out a creamy crystal almost the size of his thumb. A low reverberation thrummed through the study when he placed it on the desk. The deep hum crawled down his back and settled into his buttocks. “I think this will work…”

  The crystal’s pitch rose, and a soft glow kindled in its heart. Dorias opened himself to his power and directed an intense beam of Psoul Aspect into the blossom of light. He closed his eyes and made an attempt at connection. His consciousness dived into the crystal.

  A cloud still obscured the Dreamrealm. He thrust himself toward it, pushing first with gentle pressure from his mind, then increasing the flow of Psoul Aspect until it neared his limit. The shadow met him like a giant, impenetrable fog, smothering every attempt to enter the place he knew as well as the waking world.

  Dorias let the stream of Psoul go. “Burn it in the Flames!” He considered summoning the Earth Aspect to smash the crystal, but a more constructive idea entered his mind. “Come on, Merl.” Dorias rose and slipped the crystal into a pouch on his belt. “Let’s go for a ride.”

  Merl cawed a query.

  “Well,” Dorias said with a smile, “you will fly, of course.”

  Merl fluttered to Dorias’ shoulder, and they left the study. Dorias trotted down the last few twists of the stairs, stopping only long enough to grab an apple from a fruit bowl.

  A wide pool covered the entire ground floor of the tower with a maze of stepping stone paths crossing it. Dozens of multihued koi fish swirled the still water, darting back and forth beneath the lily pads and birds of paradise. The soft trickle from a waterfall at the edge of the pool brushed upon Dorias’ ears. He stepped toward a patio with a large double door and pushed it open.

  A wooded pasture stretched out before him, set in an eternal summer with no rain.

  He whistled. “Shade!”

  Out from behind a spread oak, a charcoal mare galloped over one of the grass-covered hillocks. She whinnied, stomping with pride once she came close. Merl cawed a greeting to the horse, who snorted in return. She took another step and nudged her diamond spotted forehead into Dorias’ shoulder, uttering a soft nicker.

  “Hey, there,” Dorias said. “Good to see you too.” He handed her the apple. The mare’s satin-whiskered lips tickled his hand when she popped the apple in one bite, crunching away with a happy shake of her head.

  “We need to go for a ride.” Dorias stroked the mare’s neck while she nuzzled him, seeking another apple. “Maybe after we get back. Come on.”

  The mare took her light saddle without qualm. Dorias used an old style bridle, one without a bit. Shade follows my lead by trust, not by force.

  He led her out of the pasture and into the room with the pool. Gathering a small stream of Psoul, Earth, and Water magic, the three Aspects in which he most excelled, Dorias reached out and placed his hand upon the tower wall. The stone blocks folded back on themselves, opening onto the gloomy Ravenswood. Once they passed through, the wall knit itself back together, leaving the unblemished black surface of the tower behind.

  “Let’s cover some ground.” Dorias grunted, swinging into the saddle. Shade gave him a moment to settle, then took off at a quick trot. Merl flew ahead through the trees.

  Wrapping his cloak about him to ward off the coolness of the shadows, Dorias rode through the trees. He barely noticed the light underbrush, speckled with white diamond and knicker-breech blossoms. Violets popped up here and there, as did mayapples, short and unopened.

  “I bet if we looked in the right spots, we could find some morels,” Dorias beamed. Shade took no interest in mushrooms, and Merl had flown out of sight. “Fair enough,” he huffed. “I suppose we do have more important things on our plate than mushrooms worth their weight in silver.”

  The shattered relics of the ancient people of Ravenswood lay scattered between the trees. Gigantic oaks grew over the black stones, some of those trees centuries old themselves. A large mound rose to his left, its rim crowned with tall hickories. The stones carved with ravens lay gathered in large numbers upon its slopes. Merl dropped from the sky and landed on Shade’s rump. The raven croaked at the mound, his wings spread wide.

  “Don’t worry, Merl.” Dorias gave the raven a kernel of corn from his vest. “We won’t be going back in there. I found what I wanted last time.” He patted the milky crystal in his pouch. “Among other things.”

  The mound receded behind them. Soon the trees opened up, and the stones became larger. Wide foundations remained here, where the people had built their capital. Shade picked her way between the crumbled buildings, Dorias allowing her to choose her own path.

  At the top of a rise, marble columns ringed a wide bowl near thirty yards across. The raven people had formed it from a vein of stone so white that after two-dozen centuries, it still blinded the eye. Merl perched upon the tallest column and watched in silence, while Dorias dismounted and walked out into the center of the dish. A small pedestal of the same snow-colored stone rose from the center. Removing the milky crystal from his pouch, he placed it onto the pedestal and stepped back.

  The resonance he had felt before returned, this time spreading wider. Dorias bored into the crystal with Psoul magic, increasing the power he used in his study. The air surrounding him vibrated. Shade backed away from the rim of the bowl, and Merl fluttered from the column when it wobbled. A hum shook the elder trees spread around.

  Dorias funneled more of the Psoul Aspect into the crystal. He closed his eyes and found the passage to the Dreamrealm. The cloud of shadow remained. It felt murkier, more substantial. He pressed against it with tentative power. His tendrils found small cracks, places in the Dreamrealm where the fog was not so dense. He reached further inside.

  This is too easy. Perhaps I should be more cautious with all this power.

  With a vengeance, the obstructing cloud snapped back at him, pushing his magic away with a violent thrust. His tendrils of Psoul snapped, ripping out the last of his breath. The dark p
ower tossed his presence from the Dreamrealm like a ragdoll, and Dorias popped back into his body. He found himself airborne from the concussion. He gasped when he struck the rim of the bowl, and then slipped into a dazed stupor.

  He woke to a whiskered nudge, followed by soft wetness. Shade whinnied in concern.

  “Wake!” the rough call came.

  “Shut up, you overgrown crow.” Dorias squinted through the pain in his head and rump. He stood, tentative in his movements. “It is obvious that we deal with something far more powerful than I originally thought.”

  He patted Shade on the nose to reassure her. The mare nudged him again, before stepping back from the edge of the bowl. She does not like setting hoof on the stone. It took a lot for her to come close enough to wake me.

  With careful steps, Dorias walked back to the center pedestal. The crystal had vaporized, leaving a light scorch on the pristine surface. Not a shard remained.

  “Damn.”

  Dorias mulled through his thoughts during the ride home. Once they arrived at the tower, he removed Shade’s saddle and led her out into the illusory pasture. She gave herself a good shake, and he set a whole bowl of apples down next to a trickle of fresh water. She danced around him happily, nudging closer for a scratch.

  “We may be leaving on a much longer ride soon,” Dorias whispered in her ear as he brushed her neck. “Enjoy your home for now.”

  Upon entering his study, Dorias collapsed into his velvet chair and sipped on a cup of green tea, steeped with a little willow bark for his headache. I need to sit here and think. No power has ever stymied my entrance into the Dreamrealm.

  He stared out the window and watched the mountain shadows creep across the forest while the sun dropped behind them. The porcelain cup, long emptied, remained in his hands. His gaze seldom shifted, even as night cast its shadow over the tower.

  “What!” Merl croaked at last. The raven remained perched upon Dorias’ chair.

  “I have known what I must do since we arrived back home.” His eyes remained fixed on the dark mountains. “I have just been sitting here working up the courage to admit it.” He reached to scratch Merl’s beak. “We must go to the Isle.”

  “What!” The raven’s caw nearly rattled the windowpanes.

  “I know.” Dorias sighed. “Varana will not be happy to see us.”

  Merl flapped his wings and warbled a derisive sound.

  “Alright,” Dorias admitted, “not happy to see me. However, I can only hope she will allow me a look at the libraries there. She owes me that much.”

  I will never forgive Malcolm for forcing me to kill him. Why would he not surrender to her?

  Dorias cleared his throat and pushed himself up from the chair. Merl hopped to his shoulder. “Well, let’s at least get some good rest tonight.” He stretched his arms with a sigh of resignation. “We will be leaving early tomorrow.”

  The Avari Plain stretched before Dorias when he and Shade rode out from the cover of the Ravenswood. Merl flew ahead, by far the most excited of the three to undertake this journey. Dorias enjoyed the scenery, but dreaded his destination.

  They set a quick pace along the Rappenron River where it swung beside the edge of the Avari. For days, they travelled in peace, Merl scouting out ahead while Dorias and Shade followed the river.

  As they paused to rest one afternoon, Dorias heard a low rumble from deep within the ground. He remounted Shade in haste and rode her to the peak of a small ridge. A gritty haze hung against the horizon, obscuring a hundred thousand wooly mounds trotting across the landscape. Bison ranged over the plain, spreading like a sea of horn, hoof, and brown fur. Their movement shook the land and left a trail of destruction and dust that hung in the air for some time. Dorias soon spied a dozen wolves trailing the herd. A pride of prairie lions tracked them too, though they stayed well clear of the other predators. Buzzards circled back along the trail, closing the cycle of life behind the passing herd.

  Two more days on the trail, and they approached where the Rappenron River met the Andon. Once the Rappenron alone fed the Andon, but that was before the Cataclysm – before the Dragonscales climbed into the sky and drove all waters to the Great River.

  The sun dipped toward the west when Dorias came upon the confluence. A tall outcropping of rock hung over the swirling eddies where the cold water of the Rappenron met the warmer flow of the Andon River. Sheltered between the rocks and the water, Dorias made camp and unsaddled Shade to give her rein to graze.

  “I’ll have a scoop of oats for you later.” He scratched her shoulders before wandering down closer to the river. Merl lighted to a tree nearby.

  “Let’s find dinner, shall we?” Dorias reached out to his power. His strength in the Aspect of Air was not great, but still enough for the task at hand. He stretched a thin tendril of Air out into the water. Near one of the warmer eddies, he found a small school of trout. Dorias wrapped his strand around one of the fish and ripped it up from the river. The silvery creature thrashed against his magic, yet Dorias held it firm.

  “Fish!” Merl cawed into the twilight.

  Dorias smiled in agreement. “Not so challenging as the old fashioned way, I’ll grant, but it is certainly faster.”

  His strength in the Fire Aspect was no greater than his power in Air, yet he still possessed enough to get a good campfire going faster than flint and steel or even a dwarven match. Dorias scaled the whole fish and placed it over the fire to roast, seasoned with a little salt and herbs he carried in his pack.

  After his meal, he leaned back against the rock, his belly full of broiled trout. Merl picked at the bones nearby, and Shade munched on her evening oats.

  “Time for a pipe, I say. I believe it would be the perfect dessert.”

  Dorias had just sparked the bowl with the tiniest burst of Fire, when the skin across the back of his neck began to crawl. With a wild snort, Shade backed away from the campsite, her ears flattened against her head, while Merl leaped into the air, abandoning his fish carcass.

  Dorias rose to his feet, teetering on the edge of embracing his power. “Please come out, Ancient One. I know when I am in the presence of one of your kind.” His heart raced, awaiting an answer to his call.

  The trees rustled. A hulking form heaved from behind the outcrop. The fading sunset danced off golden scales. A long sinewy neck resolved itself, ending in a head with a wide, leonine face. Sharp fangs, inches long, protruded from the upper lip. Its vertical slit eyes focused on him, reflecting gold and green in the last of the dying sunlight. A slightly sulfurous scent wafted into the clearing, hinted with a flavor of cinnamon.

  Dorias let go of his power. It could not match a dragon so large at this range. Shade held her ground, but her eyes rolled white, and her hooves stamped the turf. Merl, however, sat perched in a nearby tree, watching.

  “I could have burned you and your horse from the sky, had I wanted to, wizard,” the great beast rumbled with a slurred accent still quite understandable. “But I have a desire to share words. My mother taught me your resonance before she died. She told me that the wizard known as the Ravenhawke could be trusted above all humans.” The dragon scoffed, an ominous sound from so deep a chest. “That is, of course, a relative idea. No humans can truly be trusted. We have learned that hard lesson over the centuries.”

  With a wave of respect, Dorias bowed near to the ground. “Ancient One, you honor me with your presence. You could only be of the brood of Grannis. She honored me with her trust a long time ago.” He flourished his hands again. “I offer you my words and my service if you wish.”

  The dragon laughed. The bellowing sound cheered Dorias, while at the same time driving fear into his heart. The mix of emotion made him feel almost giddy. “I have no need of your service, human,” the dragon returned, “and only precious few of your words.” He sat on his haunches. The long digit at the end of his front claw folded the
leathery, golden wings back along his forearm. He leaned upon the padded knuckle where it met his thumbclaw. “I am Groovax, the son of Grannis.” The creature curved a long, scaled tail around the front of his claws as he sat. “I come to give you a warning.”

  Dorias stood up straight, thumbing his short goatee. “A warning?”

  The dragon paused, his golden eyes piercing into Dorias’ soul. He stood there, trapped within the dragon’s gaze. He would not have turned from it even if he could have. I have great respect for this creature. I want him to respect me.

  The dragon pulled a great breath into his nostrils. Most men would have feared that flames might follow, but Dorias knew that it was a sign of respect. He has accepted my scent.

  “Many of my lesser kin have disappeared.” The dragon’s lips moved with great dexterity, forming the words clearly. “I believe they flock to the Dragonscales. Whatever call they answer I cannot fathom. The presence hides from me behind a dark cloud.” He flicked his long tongue along his upper lip, curling it in a threatening way around his fangs. “Those of my kind who have heard the call are removed by many generations from the Ancient Ones. They are more…primitive. My sire was of the Ancient, as well as my mother.”

  Dorias raised one eyebrow with hesitation, uncertain the dragon allowed questions in this parley. “Why do you tell me this?”

  A ridge above the dragon’s own eye lifted. “I tell you because…” The dragon paused again as if considering. “…because there are too few Ancient Ones left among us to stop our kin. Whatever power calls the lesser dragons cannot mean well for those of us who remain beyond its influence.” Groovax flicked his tail, his horned brow furrowing. “Most of my brethren have given up on human kind.”

  “Yes.” Dorias tapped his bare upper lip. “That would explain why so few have been seen in recent centuries. Most humans believe dragons to be extinct.”

  “We nearly are.” Groovax held both regret and anger in his voice. “A good portion of that is our own doing, however.”