Legacy: Book #3, the Fire Chronicles

by Susi Wright

Ra responded immediately with a dive. Down they went, low over the raging wildfire; this time Ra disgorged a stream of pure white flame which spread out over the inferno and encircled it. To Espira's amazement, this new fire froze the fireball mid-air and simply snuffed it out.

  Magic was what it was . . . and so was a dragon!

  Ra's energy seemed boundless. The spear seemed to worry him not at all. He ascended quickly, to hover high over the scene, ready for his rider's next request, but a heartbeat later, there was another shift.

  Espira suddenly felt weary to her bones. Hollow. Her energy was vastly depleted. The battle, the death, the grief and uncertainty and an array of emotions were beginning to take a real toll; even Ra's life-force seemed to recede with hers.

  Her tears for Ardi seemed to have dried up, for now. All her senses were dulling. In this condition, it was impossible to pick up a distant sign of her father. Perhaps this was the reason she couldn't detect Ji either. She could hardly bear to think of the possibility. Had she killed him by accident? She felt sick.

  Her right wrist, she noticed with numb detachment, was bloodied raw by the leather strap. She wiped smutty strands of hair from her face and sweat from her brow with the ash-blackened fingers of her free hand, as she scanned the ground hopelessly. Some of the enemy had escaped into the forest. She could hear them crashing through the undergrowth. A large group of Zorgs crossed a clearing just below. She sighed, despondent.

  How much more, Ra?

  Ra had learned enough to take the lead at this point. Despite the throbbing pain of a deep wound, he sallied forth with his mistress for the final attack. For her sake, this had to be the last foray for the day. Even a dragon got tired, especially when injured. One more breath would finish them.

  He swooped over the clearing and, in a few heartbeats, a hundred giants became a hundred piles of ash. The warriors could deal with stragglers.

  Drawing and blowing cool air to sooth his aching nostrils, Ra turned sharply towards a nearby mountain top and soared across the valley, gliding in to settle on a rocky plateau. As his talons touched solid ground he folded his weary wings; for the first time he felt the mortal mire of Existence. Physical form had its disadvantages.

  Ra had begun to feel the effects of blood loss. He made a quick futile attempt to remove the spear by pulling on it with his teeth. The blood flowed anew. He growled. Better then, it stay.

  He knew Espira was almost delirious with fatigue when she slumped down on his neck.

  Her words were a murmur. “Is victory ours, Ra?”

  Ra simply turned his head again to bite through the leather strap where it encircled his neck, reached stiffly back and nudged Espira gently upon his muzzle to deposit her on solid ground.

  There she sat swaying for a long moment, staring trance-like at the scene below, but only half-seeing anything. “We need to get back to the men . . .” Her anxious words trailed off, as she flopped down against Ra's side and closed her eyes, her question forgotten.

  Understanding the real meaning of victory would come later.

  She woke with a start. Perhaps an hour had passed. Was it only minutes? She was coiled in the foetal position on the ground, an uncomfortable arrangement. The stiff leather armour pressed into her stomach and the scabbard dug into her ribs. She hadn't dreamed at all; it couldn't have been long.

  Espira bit her lip and shook her head as the day's memories came rushing back. The mix of grief and guilt squeezed her heart. Uninvited, new fat tears squeezed from each eye. Oh, Ardi, I am sorry! I could not come to you! With that regret, came fresh concern for Ji. She would not accept losing him too. Not without searching for him first.

  She squinted down and across the valley for signs of survivors, or Zorgs. Nothing moved. On the opposite ridge, thin curls of smoke snaked up from a clearing. Xandor and her captains would be there, attending to the wounded and the Morvian refugees. That thought reminded her – Ra was injured. The shaft had to be removed. She jumped to her feet and turned to check the level ground around her.

  Only then, she noticed Ra was gone, and where he had lain, the rocks were slick with his blood.

  Chapter 38 : RISEN

  “Beris, if you want to win that bet, you had better take a really deep breath – now!” warned Lor, as bubbles began to rise to the surface of the water around them. Beris knew not to question such foreshadowing from a Gaian, hastily gulping a lung-full of air. He had noticed the return of his lord's strength by the vibrancy in his eyes.

  Luminor exchanged a glance with Lor and a swirling current buffeted their legs. A nod and rushing water rose up beneath them from a deep spring which fed the pool, creating a rising tide which snatched all three in its grasp, tossing them around like flotsam.

  Seconds later, the geyser thrust them up and spat them out on boggy ground.

  Beris lifted his face from the mud, spat a mouthful and gasped for air. For once, he had neither the energy nor the desire to say anything.

  He simply sat, his rear end submerged in a muddy puddle, wiped the sludge from his eyes, pinched his nose and sniffed.

  Already on his feet, Luminor offered a hand to help Beris, assisting the much heavier-set man to his feet without difficulty.

  Luminor felt every muscle in his body thrumming with new life; the debilitating illness, which recently weighed ever more heavily on him, seemed to have lifted – something given. However, this failed to lighten his mental state.

  He took several strides and fell to his knees beside Ardientor's lifeless body, doubling over with an agony far surpassing any physical wound.

  My son! I refuse to understand this!

  At this moment, he could not summon gratitude, forbearance or hope. All virtue and wisdom escaped him. He bore only a deep, soul-searing pain, which he feared would never fade.

  It did not ease the loss to know this recovery was due to Ardi's unique talent and his courageous choice. The cost, his son's life, was almost too much to bear – something taken.

  For a long time, he remained bent in helpless grief over Ardi's body, bitterly aware that there was no chance of healing here. It was too late.

  What use am I, if I can not save my own child?

  While Lor and Beris stood close, silent, respectful, their heads bowed, Luminor battled inner demons over the loss of his son. On top of that, he continued to worry about Espira.

  Now he had at least partly recovered, there was still no sense of her. Where is she? He searched his mind to fill some persistent gaps. What of the battle . . . and my men?

  He assumed the ravages of the poison took time to heal properly; the return of his mental faculties lagged well behind his physical well-being. However, as his senses sharpened a little, a distant butterfly of hope appeared to dance on the horizon. She is safe! Luminor breathed a shaky sigh of relief for the one bright thing in this terrible, dark day. He clung to it, praying for Essie's continued safety, as he offered appeal to the Guardians, for their protection of Ardi's brave soul and answers for his own.

  Dusk had fallen before Luminor moved. When he stood to address the other two men, his face was ashen with sorrow, his tone resigned.

  “Help me gather tinder for a pyre, brothers!”

  Lor simply nodded once and moved silently off into the surrounding woodland.

  Beris jumped into action, eager to do something he knew about, rather than dwell on things he had no hope to understand. Death, he knew too well; matters beyond death were not his concern. Funerals, by burial or fire, were commonplace in war, but not every fallen warrior could be given a proper one. Often, their corpses were never found.

  Ardientor's lifeless body was here as proof of his sacrifice. This seemed a fitting and honourable send-off for the son of the Lord of Fire. Beris was willing and well-able to oblige this simple request.

  Although his movement was a little stiff and laboured, due to heavy bruising on his torso and legs and the congealing mud on his clothing, Beris managed to collect an impressive amount of timber in les
s than half an hour. He made repeated deposits at the pyre-site before he joined Lor with his last armful, dumping it to help finish the simple platform which would bear Ardi's body.

  Later, his loyal warriors at his side, Luminor gazed sadly into the fire. The flames seemed so joyful, bright sparks dancing up to the heavens, like tiny stars, as Ardientor's mortal frame was returned to its origin. His soul had flown, had risen to the Ancient Realm. Risen to glory.

  Luminor would consider it beautiful, if not for the attachment of love.

  He raised his eyes to the night sky, a silent eulogy for his son, and a bitter appeal to the Guardians, in his heart.

  Dust to dust, ashes to ashes . . . gone too soon, but never forgotten.

  Why was this death not mine?

  The fruits of Ardi's sacrifice, his legacy, would vivify the New Age, just as it instilled new life in Luminor. And nothing was the same as before. That was a mystery yet to be unravelled.

  *

  “I lost sight of her . . . in the smoke of the battle. There's been no time to search!” Xandor paced anxiously in a chosen space, away from the body of tents and makeshift shelters of a sprawling new encampment. “It will be dark in a hour! Does anyone have an idea?” He ran a hand through his hair, throwing the question at his sentient friends.

  “I believe she is safe,” stated Sumar, his expression speculative. He waved abstractly towards a mountain range in the distance.

  Dak piped up, “The dragon was with her . . . but I sense he is gone now . . . why is that? Is he hiding?”

  “He has something important to do, obviously,” answered Sumar, sagely. “He would not leave her otherwise. I am sure he will bring her back to us!”

  “All the same, I shall send two fliers in that direction.” Xandor looked towards the mountains. “I promised our lord, to protect her! If Lady Espira is alone, as you say, perhaps the drake has gone to hunt. There is a chance she is unarmed or injured, in danger from wild animals, or marauding giants. My men will protect her. They can take the long-spears we have gathered and check for Zorgs on the way!”

  Xandor never wasted time on superfluous discussion, already striding away to choose scouts for the flight up to the highlands. Turning back, to find Sumar and Dak already in his shadow, he grinned. “Come, brothers, we must join Commander Stolis and Jimbu. We have much to do here. There are many casualties – I assume you know that our brave brother, Shuul, is among those. He has little chance of surviving his injuries, despite the efforts of our present healers. Of course if Lady Espira or Lord Luminor was here . . .” he looked wistfully skywards and smiled wryly. Why did it always seem salvation was up? His eyes flicked to Sumar and he raised his brows. “But they are not, are they?”

  Sumar shook his head slowly.

  Xandor sighed sadly. “You know, Shuul has gained my respect. He almost single-handedly released many of the captives, before he fell! I had hoped . . . his fate was not sealed. Nonetheless, I intend to personally shake his hand – offer my friendship and gratitude – before he dies!

  “So, to this,” Xandor was on the move again, “And other important matters! We must ration the Prian to the medics and see if our supplies will stretch to a handful of boiled grain each for our many hungry survivors.”

  Chapter 39 : HIDE AND SEEK

  Espira absently flexed her injured wrist, while she scanned the horizon in all directions. It was dusk; the sky was darkening and still hazy with smoke.

  Where are you, my friend?

  How badly was Ra hurt? Was he hunting? Of course, he would evade her mind-sense to prevent her worrying. It had the opposite effect, but there was no way of finding him . . . unless he wanted to be found. She could only hope he would return soon.

  How could the battle be over so soon, such devastation wreaked by her own hands, in less than a day? Yet in her heart, it felt like a lifetime. Her eyes trailed down to the plain. Even at this distance, the piles of ash were enormous, their tops skimmed and disturbed by a brisk afternoon breeze, which caused eddies of grey cinder to dance across the desolate landscape, ghosts of defeat.

  Numerous small dark ashen shapes dotted the ground on the outer circle of the field. Nothing moved. Fallen cavalrymen, her brothers, and their steeds, melded together with the enemy in death.

  For the first time, she understood some of the irony of victory. The strange look in her father's eyes and the deep sadness which laced every Telling of battle he had recounted throughout her childhood now rang true. Conquest carried a surprising emptiness, a deep enduring pain. She, the champion-apparent, did not feel brave or clever, or in any way worthy of adulation. She had killed . . . not only the enemy!

  A sob caught in her throat, as the misery of Ardi's loss tore with new vengeance at her heart. She could not control it, still blaming herself for sending him on the mission. Self-anger and guilt threatened to consume her, when heaped upon it the awful possibility that she had also been responsible for Ji's disappearance.

  The fireball had been accidental, not dragon-fire, but caused by it and deadly nonetheless.

  At this moment, Ji's uncertain fate caused her deep concern. That she could not sense his presence at all, was the worst of it. She had seen him enter the forest on this side of the field.

  Her gaze wandered once more, back and forth, scrutinising the tree-covered slopes with sight and sense, down to the smoky battleground below and across to where Xandor's recovery camp was set up on the opposite side.

  Not a glimmer of their special Link – nothing.

  Her eyes stung with new tears. Natural fire would at least leave some evidence of a body. She had to know. Until then, she would cling to the slimmest chance . . .

  Heaving a sigh, she glanced down and noticed her cloak was charred and ruined for flight. The fact seemed insignificant in her present mood. By rote, she checked for her sword. She still had it; although her favoured arm was beginning to throb mightily, sprained and encircled by deep bloody welts, she could use the other almost as capably.

  Bitterly resolute, she wiped her eyes and cast around once more.

  No sign of Ra.

  At least, she was rested enough to walk.

  Decision made, she set off in the direction of Ji's disappearance, the place of the final fire of the battle.

  From the cliff edge, the slope inclined steeply, covered with a thick layer of loose scree. The long, pebbly descent led down to a stand of evergreen forest. Below that, it was easy to see the devastating path of the fireball. A swathe of blackened stumps and ash stretched down to join the valley. Nothing could have survived that, could it?

  She tackled the slope feet first, allowing the loose pebbles to carry her down as they gave way under her feet. Gaining momentum, she slid the some of the way on her rear end, bumping along painfully for a long distance.

  Suddenly, the incline sharpened. She pitched forward, lurching into several somersaults as she tried to control the speed of the descent, but continued to gain momentum, hurtling head-over-heels down the steep mountainside. Her head struck a rock and on she rolled. For several seconds, she verged on blacking-out, before the slope levelled out slightly and she tumbled ungracefully for a distance, dust stinging her eyes and filling her throat.

  Another dip flipped her into a somersault and she careened on, slid into semi-darkness and slammed against a large boulder.

  Espira lay still, dizzy, dusty and winded. Long moments passed before she felt able to sit up, to orientate herself. She had fallen into a huge pile of rocks at the bottom of the mountainside.

  Rubbing her sore eyes, she swallowed on a dry, clogged throat and remembered her small hip-flask. She reached down to find it still strapped in place, retrieved it and removed the cork. Up-ending it to her parched lips, she received a small trickle of water, just sufficient to wet her mouth. She swallowed hard, grateful for that, but wishing there had been a tiny drop more water left.

  Her eyes smarted, as she blinked against the shaft of late afternoon light, shining direc
tly on her face. She turned over to her hands and knees for a moment, to avoid its glare. Shortly, having noticed the light came from a space between the boulders, she pulled herself up level with the crack, squinting painfully to peer out. The forest was immediately below.

  Equilibrium returned. Behind her, only two body lengths away was the opening through which she fallen into this pile of rubble. She was not trapped, nor lost. Once she climbed out of here, she could be on her way. Another hour's descent through the thick woodland would take her into the burn-zone.

  If only she had the use of her cloak now, or better still, Ra's help.

  Either would make the search so much quicker, and safer.

  For suddenly, her senses screamed, she was not alone . . . and not at all safe!

  The Zorg was close. Very close.

  She knew it, even before she heard the monster sniffing for spoor. Flattened against the far side of the rock hole, Espira kept her breath shallow, as she quietly sprinkled handfuls more dust over her body, rubbing it in to the sweat on her face and arms. She had seen the Cymbians do this with dung. The layer of acrid volcanic dust on her exposed skin, coupled with her mental-cloaking skill, might keep her hidden; perhaps the giant would pass by the hideout on the lower side.

  She could sense the beast was hungry, but also injured. The uneven, lumbering steps, which came ever closer, implied at least a leg-wound. That might give her an advantage, if the worst happened. If it caught her scent and decided to seek out a meal, then she would have to fight the thing.

  It was circling. Such forays were among the habits of a hunter. She projected a little confusion to throw off the Zorg's incredible sense of smell. By all accounts, these cannibals had the worst traits of animal and man, a bare intelligence and savagery without limit. They were ruthless hunters, but Espira was almost certain this one hadn't detected her presence by scent. However, even the most basic tracker would recognise the clear evidence of a fall in the disturbed dirt down the slope. She hoped it wouldn't investigate the entrance on the top side . . .