Borrican ducked below the surface of the lava and slowly opened his eyes, still half expecting that it would burn him, but he found that his sight adjusted to the glaring heat and he was even able to see Vale, her dragon shape floating nearby. He could also see the swirls of color in the flows and found them fascinating as they drifted around him. He surfaced again and held out a long, scaled arm and saw that while the hot lava slid off of him easily, some of the colors remained.
"What are these colors I see?" he asked.
"Those are the flows," she said. "In the heat, they flow free, but you would know them as metals and the minerals that become gems."
"Then that is where the gems that adorn the horns and scales of the dragons come from?" he asked.
"Yes, they come from the flows," she told him. "They help to give strength and can heal many things."
"I noticed that different dragons had different colored gems and metals," Borrican said. "Why is that?"
"The flows bind differently with every dragon."
"What is this metal that clings to me?" he asked.
"Ah, that is called silvergold," she said, moving to look more closely at him. "It is rare that such a metal would bind with a dragon, but I am not surprised that it would for an Akandra."
He held out his clawed hand and saw that clear crystals had formed along the ridges where his claws protruded from his leathery skin. Borrican was about to ask about them when a shadow passed over him, followed by several more. He looked up at wings and tails flitting by and saw a group of dragons, five of them, all of them dark, black like Borrican, flying close together, circle around and land on the hard surface of the cooling lava nearby.
"Of course they would pick this day to annoy me," Vale said and she rose up out of the lava, spread her wings wide and pushed herself into the air.
She landed heavily on the rock and walked toward the dragons with cooling lava still dripping from her. Borrican attempted to rise from the lava and fly out of it the same way she had, but he only managed to get himself half way out before he fell forward with a heavy splash. The group of dragons laughed like a group of cackling birds as Borrican swam to the edge of the flow and climbed up onto the rock.
"What do you want?" Vale growled.
"We wanted to see the wildling coward before he is killed," said the lead dragon.
"You speak out of turn, Crag," Vale said. "The elders have made no such decree."
"They will soon," he replied, his predatory gaze fixed on Borrican as he walked up behind Vale. "It won't be much of a challenge. Look how weak he is."
"He is more powerful than you, little drake," Vale said.
"Maybe," Crag said, a little less sure now that he saw that Borrican was almost as large as Vale, who towered over him and the other four drakes.
"Who are these dragons?" Borrican asked.
"They are not dragons, they are drakes," Vale said, correcting him. "They are Crag, of the Avandra, Storm of the Akendra, Kiva Vaalandra, and the two standing behind them are Kaz and Raz, of the Vakandra."
"The names of their houses sound like mine," Borrican said, wondering at the similarity.
"The Akendra and the Vakandra are both related to your line, though they are of a lesser branch," Vale told him. "You would think of them as distant cousins."
"Lesser?" The one named Storm, the largest of the group, did not seem to agree. "We Akendra are the true line. The Akandra are no more."
"There is an Akandar standing in front of you, Storm," Vale said.
"Not for long," he growled. "I would fight this Akandra coward before the elders order his death."
"You dare to call me a coward?" Borrican growled, feeling the dragon rage begin to burn within him.
"The Akandra are cowards and weaklings," Storm said. "There is talk they are oathbreakers as well."
"That is enough, Storm," Vale growled.
"It's true," Crag said. "He broke his oath and ran away like a coward."
"I did no such thing," Borrican said. "I fought the god-king, Cerric so the people could escape him and I intend to return to expel his army from my lands."
"You fled like a coward," Storm said. "A dragon does not leave the battle until the enemy is dead or beaten. At least the others of your line died with honor, unlike you and your oathbreaker brother."
"You were not there," Borrican growled, his anger rising even more.
"We have all seen your thoughts, Akandra," Crag said. "It is the talk among all the dragons. You are a coward and you bring shame to your name and to all dragonkind."
Borrican could no longer control the flood of anger that rose up within him and he leapt at the drake with a loud, screeching roar. Even Vale was surprised at how quickly Borrican moved, bounding past her with power and speed that was far greater than when she fought him only days ago. The other drakes leapt backwards, unfolding their wings and pushing themselves away from Storm and Crag, who both leapt eagerly toward their larger opponent.
Borrican snapped at Storm, throwing his weight into the drake and the two of them smashed into Crag and tumbled across the hard, dark surface of the cooling lava. Borrican sunk his teeth into Storm's shoulder as Crag slashed at his side with his sharp claws. Storm snarled in pain and kneed Borrican in the chest, knocking the wind from him and smoke and acid fire dripped from his mouth as he let go of the drake. Crag was on him, wrenching Borrican's wing and pulling him around as Storm scrambled out from beneath him. Storm turned and was about to leap at Borrican when Vale smashed into him, head on and smashed him hard to the ground, cracking the hard lava beneath him.
Vale turned away as Storm rolled and leapt to his feet, ready to attack her, but he stopped when he saw Borrican pick up Crag by the neck and smash him to the ground. Acid fire dripped from Borrican's mouth and his rage flowed as he lost control, forgetting what Vale and her mother had taught him. Crag tried to free himself but Borrican smashed him into the hard rock again, cracking it and sending lava gushing through to the surface. Vale saw Borrican take in a deep breath and she quickly realized what he was about to do. She leapt at him with every bit of power she had and, with her claws, she grabbed at Borrican and wrenched him away from the drake. Borrican lost his grip on Crag, who fell to the rock below as Vale dragged Borrican into the air then dove toward the flows and the two of them plunged deep into the primordial heat.
"You almost got killed," Storm said as he walked over to Crag, who had risen to his feet and now looked over the edge of the lava flow.
"He is powerful, that one," Crag said. The other three drakes landed and approached.
"The elders said not to trouble the Akandar," Kiva said.
"They did, that's what they said," Raz agreed, nodding.
"Fools, you are," Kaz said.
"Better than cowards like you three," Storm said.
"Akandar is not a coward," Crag said, staring at Storm and the other three drakes. "You saw his thoughts."
"Yes," Storm said. "We must become more powerful if we are to kill this god-king."
*****
Borrican was not sure where he was, only that it was dark and cool. He heard the drip of water echo around him and he realized that he must be in a cave of some sort. His senses adjusted to the darkness and he saw the sharp points of rocks hanging from the ceiling overhead and he heard the slow, deep breath of a creature he recognized. Borrican rolled over and saw Vale sleeping peacefully beside him and he wondered how they had come to be in the cave, the last thing he remembered being his fight with the drakes by the flows of lava.
Then he remembered the heat of the flows and Vale dragging him through the flows, her claws gripping him tightly as he struggled against her. A memory of her flying out of the lava and smashing him against a rock wall flitted through his thoughts and then all was black. His next memory was of the cave where he now found himself, still only flashes, awakening, confused, disoriented, hungry and primal, like a beast and then, only in moments, he remembered what happened after. Borrican
felt a heat ignite deep within him at the memories that flashed through his thoughts, of the feeling of intertwining flesh, claws digging into his scales, the heat of her breath. He heard her stir and knew she had awakend and, before he could say anything, the sharp points of her powerful claws punctured the leathery scales on his side and she pulled him toward her again.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The torchlight flickered as the metal door slid open and Brian stepped into the pale light of the chamber. He had been back to the room several times over the past few days with a few of the others who were also able to hear the voices. With White Falls surrounded by a force of Xallan soldiers, which had been joined by soldiers from Maramyr, a few had decided that they were willing to be defenders, even if it meant one day becoming spirits of the keep. Outfitted with armor that gave them strength and the ability to heal quickly and new weapons as well, they became the key defenders of the walls and kept vigilant lookout on the forces that were massing on the edge of the river.
At Jax's suggestion, Brian continued to explore the tunnels and he found several useful passages that led underneath White Falls out to the surrounding countryside, their entrances well hidden among outcroppings of rock surrounded by dense forest. Most of them could be traversed by anyone so they had begun organizing small raiding parties to harass the Xallan and Maramyrian soldiers and to help the people of the surrounding land who were forced to flee the merciless soldiers who plundered their homes, many of whom were now filling up the keep. Luckily, because of the passages they were able to send out hunting parties and could gather other necessities, so Fergus was able to make sure that no one went hungry. For many it was difficult being trapped behind the walls of the keep and surrounded by enemies, but at least they were safe.
Since there was little else to do, since he had already mapped all of the more useful tunnels, out of curiosity, Brian decided to continue to explore the deeper passages that only he and the other defenders could traverse. This time, he had brought a good supply of torches with him, and was determined to find out where the tunnels that led from the metal room might lead. He placed his hand on the mark by the door he had opened the first time he had visited the room and it slid up into the ceiling, revealing the dark, stone passage on the other side. A slight breeze flickered the flame of his torch as he entered the tunnel and, a few moments later he heard the door slide closed behind him as he made his way along the empty corridor.
After a short distance, he found several large rooms similar to the ones under White Falls then he continued onward through the connecting tunnels. The thick layer of dust told him that no one had walked these passages in a very long time, and the voices of the keep, in their peculiarly vague way, told him that he was the first to travel them in many generations. Brian wondered who the last people to use the tunnels might have been, but the voices simply said that they were defenders like him. He burned through several torches and was considering turning back when he felt a breeze blowing through the tunnel and the fire of the torch flickered wildly. He continued a little further and saw a crack of light ahead and heard faint noises, which seemed somehow familiar. Brian slowed his step, walking cautiously toward the light and saw that it spilled into the tunnel from a small crack in the wall and when he looked through it, he was surprised at what he saw.
The passage was contructed fairly thick thick stone, which Brian guessed was at least as thick as his arm was long, so it was difficult to see clearly through the thin crack, but he was fairly certain that on the other side of the wall was a town of some kind. He could hear horses walking along a cobbled street, people talking and he could smell the smoke of cook fires, the stale smell of beer and sweat, and he saw people passing by, going about their business. Brian also saw armed and liveried guards, and quickly recognized them as belonging to both the forces of Maramyr and Xalla. Wherever the passage had taken him, it was somewhere that was under the control of Cerric and Calexis.
There was no sign of any kind of a door so he continued on along the passage and, even though he did not notice any particular incline, he felt as though he was traveling much deeper underground than the place where he had glimpsed the outside world. Eventually, he came to a junction where the passage split into three different tunnels and he decided to continue on straight ahead in the direction he had already been traveling. A short distance further he came to the end, where a heavy, stone door was located. He hung his lit torch, which was nearing the end of its flame, in a sconce upon the wall and put the sack of unlit torches on the ground then searched for a way to open the door. It seemed to work in a similar way to the stone door through which he had entered at White Falls, which was much like those in the hidden armories scattered across the countryside but the mechanism that operated it was secreted behind a piece of stone that blended in with the wall, so it would be invisible to anyone looking directly at it. He reached in behind it and his hand found a metal lever but when he tried to turn it, it would not budge. Brian tried again, harder this time and it moved, but only a little.
"I guess it is pretty old," he muttered under his breath.
"Very old," the voices whispered.
"Is there any way to open this or should I try one of the other passages?" he asked.
"Try harder," the voices said.
"I'm trying," Brian told them and he tried again, straining with all his might, and the handle turned a bit more but it became stuck once again. He pulled his hand out and brushed the dust off on the leg of his trousers then sighed, frustrated that he had come so far only to be stopped by an old door. "Maybe if I was stronger."
The gemstones on his armor began to glow and Brian suddenly felt energy flowing through him. His senses sharpened and his muscles felt stronger, so he reached in behind the stone and tried to turn the handle. The strain of twisting his hand made his wrist scream as though his muscles and tendons might snap, but the handle started to move again, slowly at first, then it let go and turned easily. A loud click echoed inside the tunnel and a low, grinding sound came from the wall as the heavy, stone door slid sideways. Worried that the noise could be heard by someone nearby, who might be an enemy, Brian jumped back and pulled the sword that hung at his hip, ready to defend himself, but nothing happened.
On the other side of the door was another passage. It was not nearly as dusty as the tunnel, and even though it was dimly lit by small openings high upon the walls, it appeared as though it did not get much use. The grinding of the stone stopped and Brian listened for a moment, waiting, but all was silent in the passage. He could hear the faint sounds of people talking and the clash of steel from swordplay, though he did not think it sounded like a battle. He found the hidden stone panel on the outside of the door and debated whether he should close the passage behind him then decided it was probably better just to leave it, since it did not appear that anyone was likely to come down this way. Also, if he ran into trouble, he might not have time to wrestle with a difficult door lever and he remembered Jax telling him and some of the others that the most important thing in every situation, where there were people with weapons about, was making sure to have a way out.
Brian ventured down the stone passage and found several wooden doors along one side of it. Out of curiosity, he opened one of them and saw what appeared to be a groundskeeper's storeroom filled with shovels, rakes, brooms and other such things. He shut the door and continued along to a wide stairway that led up to a door, which was unlocked. Carefully, Brian opened it a crack and peered through the gap and he saw a large, open yard surrounded by high walls and busy with people of all shapes and sizes, and most of them appeared to be warriors, though their weapons and armor were so varied that he did not think they were members of any particular army or group. There were a few liveried Maramyrian soldiers about, but they did not seem to be paying much attention to the warriors, who wandered freely around the square, most of them idly watching what appeared to be sparring matches taking place in different areas.
The do
or swung outward and Brian found himself face to face with a man who was dressed in rough clothing covered with dirt and carrying a shovel. He stared at Brian for a moment then shook his head.
"If you're looking for the pots, they're around the other side," he said, gesturing with his thumb.
"Many thanks," Brian said with a nod and walked past the man out into the yard.
Doing his best to appear relaxed as though he was supposed to be there, Brian wandered around the large open square that appeared to be a practice area. There were also groups of warriors lined up in front of large wooden tables where soldiers sat, writing their names in ledgers. He wandered past them to a large circular patch of dirt where a man with a sword was fighting a woman with two battleaxes similar to his own, though far simpler in their design.
"Hey, you there!" yelled a soldier and Brian turned, ready to defend himself. "You have to sign up with the registers before you can fight in the matches."
"Right," Brian said, nodding at the man and he noticed that, other than the soldiers, everyone else wore colored cloth bands around their arms.
"Wrap up those weapons too," the soldier said. "No blade bouts at the tournament."
"Right," Brian said again.
"There's scraps of leather in the barrel over there," the soldier told him, pointing to a wooden barrel over by the registry tables.
"Thank you," Brian said, then he made his way over to the registry area.
He pulled his axes out of the leather straps on his back and fished some long strips of leather from the barrel then tied them around the jewels embedded in the axe heads and at the end of the shaft. He did the same with his sword and was just finishing up when a skinny lad wearing patchwork leather armor with an old short sword hanging without a scabbard at his waist, walked up and pulled a piece of leather from the barrel.
"How come you're wrapping that?" Brian asked. It was obvious from the simple working of the sword that it was not a particularly valuable weapon, though the blade itself looked sharp and well maintained.
Book of One 04: A Child of Fire Page 23
