When all traces of light vanished from the night sky except for the shimmering stars, the Draknoir horde finally reached the shore of Lake Ein, a black void on the dark landscape bordering Nasgothar. Lord Memnon dismounted Redjaw and advanced through his legions of warriors. The Draknoir made a path for him and bowed their heads as their leader strode past them. When Memnon reached the lake's edge, he looked up to the skies, searching in the darkness for a familiar shadow, but he saw none. He sighed impatiently, but suddenly a thunderous beating of wings emerged from the north. Many of the Draknoir behind him hissed—frightened or anxious perhaps. Memnon ignored them, his attention focused on the large shadowy figures approaching the lake from above.
Three dragons swiftly descended into the shallow water of the lake; their scaly bodies shone in the flickering light of the torches the Draknoir carried. A wind swept over the host from the great wing beats of the dragons as they landed. They stood tall and majestic, eyes glowing from the reflection of the torchlight. Each dragon appeared altogether different from the next. A prominent pair of horns adorned the head of the tallest dragon, whose deep purple skin shimmered as it moved about. A large dragon with green scales and golden underbelly stood next to the horned dragon displaying an iridescent fin, which began at the base of its neck and ended at the tip of its tail. Finally, a smaller, orange-scaled dragon flanked the others, and Memnon noticed three long spikes jutting from each of its temples and a long tail studded with similar protrusions. Lord Memnon could not help but smile at their majestic appearances; they were fearsome creatures who would bring glory to Nasgothar and misery to men.
"Good evening, my venerable guests. Many a night I have thought of this day, when the magnificent dragons of Ghadarya would honor me with their presence at the threshold of Nasgothar," Memnon said, spreading his arms wide in a welcoming gesture.
The dragons did not speak or acknowledge him; they only exchanging glances among each other as if deciding who should speak first. Finally, the horned dragon with purple scales stepped forward, creating large ripples in the water of Lake Ein. The dragon stood at a height three times taller than Memnon, who marveled at the beast. The warriors beside him became apprehensive at the sight of the dragon, drawing their swords and standing defensively beside their master. Memnon commanded the Draknoir to sheathe their swords and stand behind him as before. The horned dragon did not seem anxious in the least by the thousands of warriors standing around Memnon. The dragon merely stared at Memnon and released puffs of smoke from his nostrils between breaths.
"We have come by the will of Nergoth to restore our alliance with the Draknoir," the horned dragon's voice hissed.
"And we accept the restoration of such a mighty alliance," Memnon said with a grin.
"I am Albekanar, chieftain of the Amethyst tribe of Ghadarya and eldest cousin of Kraegyn, Nergoth's Chosen. Two other chieftains stand behind me as witnesses of our accord." The dragons all bowed their heads slightly. "Tell me, are you the sorcerer who calls himself Memnon?"
"Yes," Memnon replied, placing his palms together and bowing. "I am the blood descendant of Scipio, the Draknoir sorcerer who allied himself with your kin and reigned as second only to Kraegyn in Arkadeus."
"I sense that you are very powerful, Lord Memnon," Albekanar said, studying him with his serpentine eyes. "But are you as powerful as your ancestor, I wonder?"
Memnon rose to the dragon's challenge and threw his hands in the air, reciting an incantation in shak’teph. A black cloud encircled the Draknoir host and lightning crackled within it. Memnon's eyes opened wide and turned stark white as he continued to speak erratically, commanding the maelstrom of lightning to strike the left flank of the Draknoir army. Agonized cries filled the air as a bolt of blue lightning sent warriors flying in all directions. Memnon lowered his hands and the yellow in his eyes returned as the black cloud dissipated from the night sky.
Memnon turned around and marched through the demoralized ranks of soldiers, who cowered at the sight of him. He approached the charred and smoking bodies of the warriors who were killed from the bolt of lightning. He raised his scaly arms and uttered another incantation over the foul-smelling corpses at his feet. In a few seconds, hundreds of wispy specters emerged from the air and descended individually into the bodies of the dead Draknoir. At his command, the Draknoir rose from the ground, disfigured and hobbling, but ready to fight despite their lapse in death. Lord Memnon grinned pleasantly and turned to face Albekanar, who growled in delight at the impressive display of necromancy.
"Nergoth has shown you favor in granting such power," Albekanar said. "Do you think you are powerful enough to usher my elder cousin from the Abode of Shadows into a dragon host?"
"The power lies within me to do so," Memnon responded confidently. "I need a host for the summoning. Is there one among you whose body is strong enough to hold a powerful spirit like Kraegyn's?"
"There is one," Albekanar faced his dragon mates, who had previously been watching over them like stone sentries. The green dragon with the fin on its back met his gaze and stepped into Lake Ein to approach them. As the dragon neared them, Memnon realized the green dragon's girth was greater than Albekanar's, despite the latter's taller stature.
"This is Gerudos, chieftain of the Emerald tribe and the only dragon whose size is almost equal to that of Kraegyn," Albekanar said, shifting his tail in the water as he spoke.
"Gerudos," Memnon stared into the fierce eyes of the dragon, "are you willing to sacrifice your life so that the Black Dragon of Ghadarya may live and breathe again in your body?"
Gerudos straightened his neck to its full height. "Yes. May Nergoth take me to the Abode of Shadows in Kraegyn's stead."
"Excellent. I believe we have an accord, then, Albekanar. Let us seal this union in blood."
Memnon snapped his fingers, and in moments, three Draknoir priests came forward carrying a makeshift brazier he utilized while on his travels. One of the hooded acolytes handed their master a dagger and he immediately swiped a gash on his scarred forearm. Memnon pressed his forearm with his thumb, squeezing drops of blood into a small bowl in the center of the brazier. Albekanar honored the necromancer's request and used one of his talons to cut into his foreleg. The dragon then raised his foreleg over the altar and flexed the muscles around the cut, pushing the crimson blood into the bowl. Memnon raised an open palm over the altar and summoned a burning flame in his evil speech. The ensuing fire consumed the mixed blood and left a putrid stench, which Memnon breathed in with delight.
"It is finished, then," Albekanar said. "Our races shall conquer the lesser creatures of Azuleah; they shall be consumed by dragon's fire and conquered by the Draknoir horde."
"Yes. But there is still a small matter we must address," Memnon said.
Albekanar narrowed his eyes and puffed out smoke from his nostrils. "What matter, necromancer?"
"There is a prophecy I have been most concerned with regarding the Aldronian defilers and the elves. You see, my efforts from Nasgothar have recently given us an advantage in Ithileo and the eastern shores of Lagrimas, where thousands of Draknoir hold fast against the Aldronian armies. But Joppa is the true target of my campaign and the place where this prophecy is most vexing."
"What is this prophecy?" Albekanar growled.
"You will know soon enough. But first," Lord Memnon glanced quickly at each of the dragons, "which of you is willing to take flight to Aldron?"
SIXTEEN
In the Realm of Faeries
“I think that's the last of it," Cutter said as he attached the final leather pack filled with supplies onto Homer's saddle.
Lucius could not believe how quickly time had passed since he and Siegfried arrived at the cottage bordering the Burning Woods. Only a few days ago they had shared a meal together with Naomi and found a new ally on this perilous adventure. Now he stood outside the small cottage with Siegfried waiting to say goodbye to Silas, Violet, and Naomi as they embarked on their long journey to Aldron. He si
ncerely hoped no danger would befall any of them, but he was especially concerned for Naomi. Her role in forging the Requiem Sword was paramount, and should she be caught by the enemy, their journey would be for naught. He worried about the young woman's ability to fight if the trio ran into trouble on the Barren Road. She can make weapons, but can she use them? Naomi seemed a delicate lady to him, smaller in stature than Violet and very graceful in her movements—not the qualities Lucius envisioned in a warrior maiden. He wished she could travel along with them to the Grey Swamps so he could protect her and know her better, but he knew their task was more important than his growing affections.
"Do you both have everything you need?" Naomi asked as she slightly adjusted her blue headscarf.
"I believe we do, Lady Naomi," Siegfried replied, slinging his heavy pack around his shoulders.
"Thank you for all of your generosity, Naomi," Lucius said. "Please take extra care on your journey."
"I will, Lucius," she said. She reached out and gently squeezed Lucius' forearm. "Be careful in the forest, all right?"
Lucius' heart pounded against his chest and he loudly cleared his throat. "Yes ... yes, we will be careful, my lady."
Naomi smiled then turned to Silas and Violet, who both walked up.
"Keep a watchful eye in the forest, friends," Silas said. "It is a perilous place, but you will endure it if you stay close together."
"We'll do just that," Siegfried replied.
"I'm sorry we could not all be together. I've quite enjoyed the company of new friends," Violet said, smiling warmly. "It can be lonesome in the wilderness of Marsolas."
"I am certain our paths will cross again, Lady Violet. Hopefully, our next meeting will be soon and during less tumultuous times," Lucius said.
"Indeed." Cutter grinned and slapped Lucius' shoulder unexpectedly. "Yéwa lead you and sustain you, brother."
"Thanks." Lucius forced a smile as he lightly rubbed his shoulder.
After exchanging farewells with Siegfried, Cutter and Violet joined Naomi at the edge of the glade where Homer was grazing. Cutter grabbed the horse's reins and the trio walked into the glade toward the direction of the Barren Road beyond a cluster of trees. Lucius and Siegfried watched them disappear into the distance before entering into the Burning Woods behind the cottage.
The woods were unnaturally quiet, no singing birds or scampering squirrels could be heard as they roamed the forest's interior. Lucius marveled at the bright colors of the autumn leaves overhead despite the summer season. A cool breeze from the east rustled the leaves, creating a soothing sound amid the serenity of the enchanted woodland. Lucius wondered if the stories of faeries dwelling in the woods were true, since he saw little evidence of any living creatures as they walked several yards without spotting a single animal. The stillness and silence of the forest soon became unsettling to Lucius and even the occasional sound of leaves rustling could not quell the eerie ambiance.
"Is it always so quiet?" Lucius asked, darting his head around searching for any movement among the trees.
"I'm afraid so," Siegfried replied, undeterred by the lack of sounds.
Lucius frowned. "Fantastic."
He tried not to think of their silent surroundings, and his mind eventually drifted to Naomi. He hoped she reached Sylvania before sunset, fearing the dangers she might face on the Barren Road in the night. Fortunately, Lucius and Siegfried had not encountered trouble on the road a few nights past, but safe travel was not guaranteed for Naomi and the others.
"Do you think Naomi will be safe on the Barren Road, Siegfried?"
"Cutter is an experienced swordsman; he will keep Naomi and Violet secure," Siegfried said, pushing aside a low branch from his path.
"Yes, of course, Cutter." Lucius tightened his jaw, recalling Naomi's joy when Cutter agreed to be her escort.
"Do not worry yourself, Lucius. I doubt Cutter is as fond of Naomi as you are," Siegfried said, suppressing a laugh.
"What? I don't know what you mean," Lucius said, a flushed sensation spread around his neck and ears.
"It's very obvious you have feelings for Naomi. There is no shame in that; she is an attractive and kind woman."
Lucius pinched his lips together. "Oh, it's very obvious, is it?"
"You were stammering when she touched your arm," Siegfried laughed.
"Well, what about your obstinance? That's very obvious to me!"
"Whatever are you talking about?"
"Your stubbornness over Lumiath's words concerning Father and D'arya. You've said nothing about it since we left Sylvania," Lucius said. Siegfried stopped walking and faced him. Lucius hated to bring this up now, but he could not resist.
"That has nothing to do with the subject at hand."
"I don't want to discuss my supposed feelings for Naomi with you, but I do want to know why you don't believe Lumiath."
"Father is a worshipper of D'arya, and I refuse to believe anything different!" Siegfried yelled. "I care not if a rebellious seer thinks otherwise."
"If he is so rebellious, why did Father send us to him?" Lucius asked, lowering his brow. "Why did he risk his reputation with the Cyngorell by suggesting Lumiath was the seer in Zebulun's prophecy?"
Siegfried inhaled and slowly released his breath. He averted his eyes and gazed at the tree branches overhead for a moment. Lucius fought the impulse to speak, knowing his brother needed time to reflect on the matter, but the awkward silence was excruciating.
"I do not know why Father sent us to Lumiath," Siegfried finally replied. "I can only surmise that the meeting was for your benefit—to know your responsibility as the Ellyllei and learn more about Yéwa. Father has been very deliberate in fostering a desire in you to seek the God of men, but that does not mean he has abandoned the worship of D'arya or aligns himself with a heretic."
"But Siegfried—"
"No, Lucius," Siegfried interjected, lifting a palm up at him. "I do not want to talk about this any further. We need to keep moving."
Lucius sagged his shoulders and nodded reluctantly. Siegfried turned around and walked through the thicket and underbrush surrounding the area. Lucius followed resignedly, wondering if his brother would ever agree with him. He believed Lumiath spoke the truth about Helmer's beliefs. Perhaps the only way Siegfried would also believe was if their father acknowledged the seer's revelation. But what if Helmer denied Lumiath's words? Could Siegfried be right and Lumiath be wrong?
Lucius shook his head—he trusted Lumiath and his father trusted the seer too. My Father is not a heretic; he just knows the truth every elf denies. D'arya is not a god. But Lucius still didn't understand Yesu's needless death, which kept him from fully trusting Yéwa.
The bright sun peeking through the treetops above moved steadily downward as the late afternoon waned and their trek through the Burning Woods carried on into twilight. Lucius grew bored of seeing the same kinds of trees, fallen leaves, and bushes along their march to the northland. His patience also teetered on edge in the deafening silence of the woods. Crunching leaves underfoot or swaying branches in the breeze were the only sounds heard among the stillness around them. Siegfried had not spoken since their argument, and Lucius wasn't about to open his mouth anytime soon. He rejoiced inwardly when they came upon a new sight in a small clearing, a solitary boulder next to a decaying log. Large white mushrooms adorned the log, and Lucius wondered if they were edible. Hours had passed since their last meal at the cottage, and his stomach growled at the thought of the mushroom pastries Peniel prepared for them back in Evingrad.
"Can we stop for a moment? I'm famished and those mushrooms look delicious," Lucius said, kneeling next to the log.
"You will be disappointed then to know they are Death Caps and quite poisonous," Siegfried said.
Lucius curled his lips and backed away from the log. "What else is there to eat?"
Siegfried smiled and placed his pack on the ground beside the boulder. He opened the pack and pulled out two raw salmon fillets wrappe
d in paper.
"If you can start a fire, we can try the salmon Violet caught in the Dulan River. I'm sure it will taste better than a Death Cap," Siegfried said.
"I'll gather some wood," Lucius said. He darted around the clearing collecting twigs and fallen branches. Siegfried arranged some rocks in a circle on the ground to prepare for the campfire. In mere minutes, they both enjoyed the warmth of a roaring fire and the smell of salmon grilling on a wrought iron pan. Lucius cleared the log beside the boulder of all the Dead Caps and dragged it by the fire to sit on. Siegfried sat on the ground cross-legged staring vapidly into the flames. Lucius desired to break the silence between them, but no words came. He caught a glimpse of the darkening clouds moving quickly through the reddish sky and wondered how far they were from Jun-Jun Pass.
"We will not escape the woods before nightfall," Siegfried said, still looking into the dancing firelight.
"But we must," Lucius said, feeling his heart beat faster. "Who knows what evils lie in this woodland, brother. You know the tales of the abominable faeries here."
"I know more than tales, Lucius." Siegfried looked into his eyes and Lucius saw weariness he had never seen before. "We cannot leave this place before I make amends for my crime."
"Crime? What crime?" Lucius asked incredulously.
Siegfried sighed. "When I was but twenty years of age, I came to the Burning Woods with a friend—someone I would now consider a rival. His name was Abelard, eldest son of the Windsong family. We traveled to the woods in search of large game to hunt, like griffins or forest trolls. Being foolish young elves, we wandered into the Burning Woods under the cover of darkness and encountered a band of faeries. The faeries did not see us at first, and Abelard dared me to shoot one from the air with an arrow. At first, I was reluctant, since I knew nothing about faerie folk and did not wish to inflict harm on what I perceived as intelligent beings, but Abelard convinced me they were devilish creatures with inferior minds. He goaded me until my temper flared and I let an arrow loose."
The Blade Heir (Book 1) Page 15
