He decided to split his warriors into two groups. One group would stay back to provide cover with their bows, while the other half would sneak aboard and try to recover the woman Kerrion wanted so badly. If all went well, the shamen would destroy the boat using their fire magic. That was the plan, and so far the Hasians had not seen them.
He watched the boat from his place in the shallows of the river. The current was not strong, he had chosen a wide stretch on purpose for that very reason. He and his warriors were submerged up to their chins with mud smeared over their faces to prevent the Hasian sentries from seeing them. He studied the boat’s construction and was pleased to note how low to the water it was. It should be a simple matter to climb aboard.
He whistled once and pushed off. The others did likewise, and he led them swimming strongly to the boat. When he reached it, he forced his dagger into the caulking between the boards, working it backwards and forwards to set it strongly. Another dagger was offered as the boat dragged him along, and he thrust that one in further up. Two daggers were enough, and he pulled himself up to see if they were observed. Evidently they weren’t because Torin followed him up without waiting for the all clear. Trying to look everywhere at once, he found his boy by the flash of white teeth. He was grinning in excitement. A Hasian warrior lay before him with his throat cut, while above him a long handle swung back and forth with the movement of the river. Kerrion had said there would be at least one man at the reins of the boat; this must be him. He nodded to Torin and whispered congratulations on his first kill.
Tomik waited until they had a few more warriors aboard before moving toward the bow. Crawling silently, following the cabin's wall that stretched the entire length of the boat, he was almost taken by surprise. He stopped, and turning slowly, peered upward toward the roof of the cabin. There was an outclanner sitting with his back toward him and a long knife unsheathed across his knees. Peering into the darkness, he could make out others sitting similarly. They weren’t very good guards, he decided. They should have been lying down and facing both ways, instead they were all facing forward and looking the wrong way.
“Move on and take the next in line when I do. Tell the others to do the same,” Tomik whispered directly in his son’s ear and felt the nod.
A moment later and more whispers, his son moved on. Tomik watched their progress, and then stopped the next warrior with a tap on his arm when he saw them reach the bow.
He lunged up to the roof and struck in one movement. All along the line, his men did likewise but Tomik winced at the sound of a body falling close by. Someone had let his target fall and make a noise. In a rush, they moved back to the stern and entered the cabin hoping the noise hadn’t been heard.
No such luck.
He ducked under the long knife and killed the warrior quickly so that he might split the next one’s head. Screams and clanging of steel raised the alarm, and suddenly he doubted whether they could win. His warriors were the best, but there must have been three times their numbers facing them. Tomik would have died any number of times in the first moments if not for the cramped conditions. The men were groggy from sleep, but they were still quick enough to kill. He saw two of his friends killed and howled in mingled rage and grief. The others took up the cry and slew a dozen in retribution, but it was no good. He couldn’t move forward to find the woman.
He was thinking only of Selima and escape when a boy in a dirty white robe popped up behind his latest opponent and killed him dead. He gaped in surprise.
“Don’t just stand there! Help me with the Lady!”
Tomik didn’t need telling twice! He rushed forward to grab the girl, while the boy cut the ropes on another man. With the girl over his shoulder, he raced outside, and without slowing dove overboard quickly followed by the others. He came up for air and ducked under again as fire shot toward him from the boat. He watched the surface of the river trying to stop the girl from floating. If she surfaced, she would be roasted for sure.
An age seemed to pass, but eventually the flames gave way to the night and he surfaced. With swift strokes he made for the riverbank dragging the unmoving girl behind him.
“Here father, grab my hand!” Torin shouted pulling him to shore.
Together they pulled the girl into the reeds and finally onto dry land. Behind him more fire streaked overhead, but it was obvious the Hasians had ruined their night vision and misjudged his position.
“I think she’s drowned, father.” Torin checked the girl’s breathing again to be sure. “She’s dead.”
* * *
21 ~ Dragons
Julia stood in awe of the huge beast. Standing, he would be taller than Athione’s great hall… much taller. His scales were a glittering deep copper colour as if an artisan had decided to make a gigantic metal sculpture. His wings, when he bothered to fan himself with them, were huge—easily spanning a hundred yards! The eyes looked like huge jewels set in his head. This one’s eyes were a deeper colour than his scales, still copperish, but a deeper red with slit pupils like a cat. He was lying in repose on the banks of the lake that would eventually become a ferry staging point in Deva’s capital city.
He wasn’t alone.
She stood gaping at the wonderful creatures. Everywhere she looked, dragons of every colour imaginable lay or swam in the deep waters of the lake. Black, red, silver, gold, copper like her big beauty a pace in front of her; there were green ones like emeralds lying on the beach, sapphire blue ones the same, every colour she could imagine and some she wouldn’t have.
“They’re wonderful, Renard. I nearly bought a tapestry with dragons fighting on it, and I thought that was beautiful, but this! This reality makes the tapestries I’ve seen look pale in comparison.”
“You can’t blame the artisans for that. These creatures were long gone before they thought to capture the Histories in picture form. They used their imaginations to bring their dragons to life, but here you’re seeing the reality.”
Julia walked up to a big black and looked into its eyes mesmerised by the intelligence she saw within them. She hadn’t thought they were more than beasts, but now she knew. Excitement coursed through her. Man had always been alone, but here was another intelligent race to live with. Humans could be companions to dragons. To sit here and talk to them, to understand their strange point of view. Who wouldn’t want to sit and hear their wisdom?
Renard ambled along more interested in her reactions than looking at the dragons. “We are on the shores of Holy Lake, in the twenty-second year after the Founding.”
Renard looked at the black dragon sadly for a moment then continued his history lesson. When she arrived back at Athione, she was going to pull out every history book she could find.
“Castle Black is complete, and by this time the Founders have separated into factions. The older ones will stay on the Black Isle and their descendants will become the sorcerers of your time, Julia.”
She nodded absently. The big black opened its cave of a mouth to yawn. His jaws opened wider than she was tall, three times wider at least. The lazy creature kept his bottom jaw on the ground, moving only his upper jaw and head. The rows of teeth in his mouth confirmed her thought that they must be carnivorous.
“What do these beauties eat?” she asked.
She ran a tentative hand over a lower spike-like tooth in the front of her dragon’s mouth. It was like the tusk of an elephant and almost as big. It was straight unlike a tusk, but was similar in that it was round and became larger in diameter towards its base.
A canine.
“If you’re ready I’ll show you,” Renard said and clasped her hand.
The world blinked and she found herself flying above the plains of Camorin. Below she could see a huge herd of bison. Bison were big animals, but from here they seemed small. They were as numberless as the blades of grass they grazed upon. The sky darkened as a flight of dragons blotted out the sun. With wings locked wide, they glided, playing with the thermals to adjust their flight
with finicky precision. As one, the dragons dove upon the bison as yet unaware of their fate, and struck to wing laboriously away carrying their chosen dinner in strong claws. She could see the dragons had two forelegs with talons big enough to carry a fully grown bison. Their rear legs were heavily muscled, probably to help them launch themselves, but the forelegs were far from weak. Julia watched them carry their dinners close to their chests away from the herd.
“So they eat bison, what of the clans?”
“They’re here too, don’t fret!” Renard laughed at her transparency. “The clans aren’t numerous at this time and they have an understanding with the dragons. Dragons are heavy eaters true, but two bison a ten day fill them and the rest of the time they like to play in the sea and eat fish when they can be bothered to catch some.”
She watched the dragons land to kill their dinners. The herd had run a few leagues before stopping to graze again. The bison were obviously well used to this and weren’t terrified by the dragons… well those chosen were, but the rest started grazing again after eyeing the dragons and deciding they were far enough away. She thought the dragons would rend and tear the poor creatures, but they were too fussy for that. Rending would bloody their pretty scales, so instead they snapped the struggling bison necks and began feeding.
“The clans are friends of the dragons then?”
“Were friends Julia, this is the past,” Renard reminded her. “Thousands of years ago, the clans lived to breed their horses and contest with each other. Dragons could eat horse meat, but choose not to do so. In return, the clans cull and manage the bison to keep disease and weak animals from harming the herd. It’s a good system. The clans have plenty to eat—the dragons don’t mind humans eating their bison—and the clans are protected from those who would harm them. The clans are peaceful at this time. They have very few warriors and their contests have more to do with who can breed the best horse, than who is strongest with weapons.”
“What changed?” she said as she watched a bison disappear down a sapphire dragon’s maw.
“Come, I’ll show you,” Renard said and their surroundings changed. They were in the mountains.
Julia recognised this place, but it seemed strange to be standing in the middle of West Pass without seeing the mighty walls and towers of Athione. Athione was completed in the year eighty-one AF so she knew they were farther back than that. In the pass ahead, she could see mounted men riding toward her. She studied them and nodded to herself. They were wearing the black robe of sorcerers. The Founders were coming to settle Deva; but what of the dragons lounging around the lake?
Julia uneasily watched them approach and the inevitable happened. A passing dragon noticed the newcomers and flew down to investigate. The men shouted in alarm and the women screamed at the sight of a small silver dragon. It was obvious to her that he was young and inquisitive, but to the Founders he was a ravening monster come to kill them. Horses bucked neighing in fear. Some of the Founders were thrown. Shouts and curses were raised…
“No don’t!” she shouted and watched sick at heart as fireballs rose to strike the dragon in the chest.
To Julia’s delight and surprise, the dragon seemed more surprised than hurt. He did fall from the sky a little way, but he managed to veer away before hitting the ground. He roared his outrage, and beat his wings hard to gain height. He turned and made a sweeping pass above the Founders contemptuously dodging the fireballs as they rose toward him. The horses were still bucking in fear and no few of the men were thrown to lie still upon the rocky ground. The silver beast roared as he flew away—dragon laughter. She watched him go to tell his friends about the foolish humans and laughed, but Renard wasn’t smiling. He seemed grimmer than she had ever seen him.
“What’s wrong?”
“Come, I’ll show you,” Renard said.
The world changed again and Julia was standing amidst disaster. The lake was full of bloated and rotting carcasses. Dead dragons lay scattered amid burned wagons and fields while others lay among smashed and burning trees. As she watched, a flight of dragons flew overhead and attacked the Founders below.
“They’re mages!”
Renard nodded. “The jewel colours are rare among dragons, as mages are rare among humans. Both female and male dragons might be a mage, but only one in a hundred hatched jewel coloured in these days.”
Julia found her big black lying badly injured on the shore, even as she reached him he gave a huge sigh and died. A roar of anger and grief echoed over the battleground as the fighters above realised he was gone. The silver dragon wasn’t here she saw, and she was relieved to see the copper one flying unhurt. The Founders continued their evil work and more dragons were knocked down, but as one, the jewel mages hit three Founders together and turned them to ash, but they were the only ones. Finally, a beautiful pearl coloured female dragon made the only decision possible and called retreat.
In formation the dragons withdrew roaring their hate of the new humans.
“Where will they go?” she asked watching them fly out of sight.
Renard touched the big black, stroking his muzzle. “Tindebrai eventually. This was the last battle in a string that started when a young silver dragon startled the Founders in West Pass. Hundreds of dragons are dead lying all along the route from West Pass to Holy Lake. The survivors—mostly younger dragons and the jewel mages—will fly to the plain. The clans will help with their injuries and quite a few will go with them to Tindebrai. Deva is born this day, Julia. A bloody birth is it not?”
She nodded. “The jewel mages aren’t as strong as the sorcerers. They had to join their efforts to strike those three,” she indicated the dead Founders.
“No human has ever been as strong as the Founders in magic. In your time, magic has declined as mages age themselves prematurely before learning enough to rank on their scale. You are the strongest mage to come into this world since the Founders brought human magic to Waipara, but even you do not match them.”
“Will I ever?” Julia said not caring if she did or not. She was more interested in how she could visit the dragons in Tindebrai.
Renard cocked his head listening to the music that Julia imagined he could hear. “If you survive, you will become stronger than the Founders.”
She stumbled to a halt and rounded on Renard. “If I survive… if?”
Renard sighed. “I told you there are many futures—many worlds if you will. In some, you live with your parents and become a great athlete. In others, you went on a vacation with them and died. In yet another, you killed yourself. You see? By Darius’ action, all of those possible futures ceased to exist and new one’s opened before you.”
They stopped and watched the Founders bury the ashes of three of their number, and then begin the long job of cremating the dragon carcasses with fire.
Renard continued his lecture. “You might die of Tancred poisoning, or live then die later in battle. You might marry and have many children, or you might marry and have only one. The possibilities are endless. Making decisions is how we narrow the possibilities, and that is why divining is of limited use. Anything of the future I show you can be made redundant by the correct choices. Only the past is immutable, and that is why I’m showing you all this.”
Julia watched the sorcerers collecting dragon scales and loathed them for it. Dragons were intelligent creatures, yet they were hacking at the corpses for their grisly trophies as if they were nothing more than animals. When the task was done, it took all the Founders working together to destroy the carcasses. The heat of the pyres rivalled that of a furnace, but gradually the numbers of dead dwindled. Julia watched as the last one, the big black was cremated. There was nothing to show that a battle had ever taken place, except for piles of ash that began to drift on the wind.
“I’m surprised the dragons didn’t win. Look how hard the sorcerers had to work.”
“Fire is a crude weapon in war, Julia. Mages find it easy to make and use against their enemies, but try it
sometime against an equal opponent and you will wish for something stronger and faster. Even among their own people on their homeworld, the Founders were strong in their magic. We call them true sorcerers. On the same scale, a dragon mage was a poor second, but don’t be fooled into thinking they’re weak, because they aren’t. In battle, you would have trouble with just one dragon, let alone three. The dragons of your time are warier than the ones you saw here. Using magic for battle was alien to these dragons, but that is no longer the case, I assure you. Battle magic is now as natural as breathing to them.”
That sounded ominous. Julia was glad to hear that the dragons were alive and well on Tindebrai, but although she would love to meet and talk to one, having a flight of dragons land in the middle of Devarr would cause no end of trouble…
Julia looked to Renard who was trying to avoid her gaze. “You’re not saying the dragons are coming back are you?”
“That’s only one possibility. I see war wherever I look. If not the sorcerers, then it’s Tanjung. If not Tanjung, it’s the dragons. If not the dragons it’s…” Renard broke of red-faced. He had that listening to nothing look on his face again. He nodded almost imperceptibly and went on. “No matter how far I look, I see destruction. The dragons bring annihilation for Deva, but the sorcerers aren’t interested in destruction for its own sake. Mortain wants to rule, so he’ll not want to destroy everything. Of course, his estimate of what’s necessary may not match yours.”
She nodded. “The dragons want their home back and a return to the old days, but what does Tanjung want?” She could guess, but she preferred to hear it from Renard.
“Similar to the Protectorate. Emperor Vexin wants peace in his own land, but the only way he sees to achieve that is to turn his lords’ aggressions outward, instead of toward each other as is currently the case.”
What a mess! Deva had to fight the sorcerers for its freedom, but at the same time Tanjung wanted an enemy to fight and had chosen Deva. If the dragons became embroiled in the mess that Waipara had become, who knew what would happen. The sorcerers were weak compared to the Founders, but there were a great many of them. Julia could foresee chaos in every direction and no way out.
Devan Chronicles Series: Books 1-3 Page 97
