Legacy: Book #3, the Fire Chronicles

by Susi Wright

  Abruptly, the leading giants fell to their knees and transformed into ghostly white beasts. Row upon row they turned back, to devour the Zorgs and their captives, and all swam in a sea of blood.

  She urged Ra to attack, but his flames could not penetrate the confines of the evil flock which surrounded them; his breath was deflected back, scorching her as it did in the battle . . . but this was not that battle.

  Ra swooped violently to escape the threat; Espira searched wildly for the rein she usually lashed to her arm, but it was not there and she was thrown from Ra's back. The stomach-churning sense of falling almost overwhelmed her, even though she was suspended by the force of the circling demons. Through the diabolical throng, she glimpsed the form of the dragon, flying away from her, disappearing into the black night; she tried to call Ra, but her lips were sealed shut, her mind trapped by dark magic.

  Mutely, she watched a cluster of demons form thicker among the rest; they became a pack of white wolves and in its midst she saw Ardientor, his face a mask of agony as shadowy hands and vicious claws tormented him. She screamed silently, tried to reach out, help him, but she could not raise her leaden hand. For a moment, he looked directly at her and briefly his expression transformed to utter joy; then the evil mass of ghosts closed in and carried him swiftly away. She strained to keep sight of him for a while; then he was gone.

  In the far distance, there was a wall of flame and, from the mass of spectres that had stolen Ardi away, she saw another dragon take flight, surge towards the fire and disappear into it.

  Held a bewildered captive by a thousand other dark shapes, she felt the knife of agonising loss twisting in her gut, threatening to end her, but even that pain seemed insufficient retribution for her failing.

  Emerging from the surrounding darkness, the claws of a huge white beast gripped her as it loomed over her and closed in. Strangely, some part of her welcomed its evil punishment, but another part fought to save her own life.

  It was rare to survive the peril of an astral nightmare . . . but if she did, she swore to do her utmost, never to let it become reality!

  She woke suddenly, with a shaft of pale sun angled across her face from the small cabin window. Her heart thundered in her chest. Squinting and shading her eyes, she stretched her stiff limbs and sighed, still tired from her dream but relieved to survive it. As her heartbeat normalised, she turned to her side to check on Ji.

  He was awake and watching her anxiously; when their eyes met, he managed a weak smile. “You were screaming earlier. It even woke Shuul! Was it the battle?”

  Espira grimaced. “That . . . and more. I must contend with visions! It wasn't my best night's sleep, but all who have seen death, or perpetrated it, have nightmares, do they not?”

  Ji regarded her sympathetically. “I, like many of my young brothers, have had our fair share since we joined this quest. War changes a person for good or bad!”

  The haunted look which passed over Espira's features was gone as quickly as it came. Nevertheless, Ji wanted to cheer her up. “I think I can ride today. Just looking at you is medicine enough!” He beamed brightly as he reached out and took her hand, stroking her knuckles.

  Espira smiled back, studying his face. “You don't remember much about last night, do you?” It appeared she had done a much better job than expected; noting a bruise forming on Ji's cheek, she added mildly, “On a good night, sleep can work wonders . . .”

  “Xandor and Shuul went hunting before light,” said Ji, “I hope they find a rabbit or anything other than woodgrubs. I'm starving!” He winced as he shifted his leg. “And, while they are gone – ” he said with a grin, pulling her towards him, “I have an idea which will work miracles!”

  Espira leaned in to his kiss; there was passion and a hint of apology for her little deception. When they broke apart, Ji grinned sheepishly. “You need not worry about Shuul. He apologised for hitting me. I suppose it was for the best. Anyway, I was being an ass!”

  She laughed. I thought you might know about that. And, yes you were!

  Ji's brown eyes became serious and he pulled her close, whispering fervently, “I feel like I am under a spell, when you're near me, like this! I wish we did not have to wait, Essie – to marry, I mean. It will be weeks until we are home!”

  “Hush,” she kissed him; it was tender but brief. Love shone in her eyes. “Rest a little more . . . the men are returning!”

  “Is that so?” Ji looked doubtful.

  She nodded. “Just wait ten heartbeats. You will hear the sound of Shuul's samblar not far away, and Xandor will walk through the door!”

  She was right. After a few seconds, Xandor entered with a brace of plucked wood-pigeons, passing the lovers with a nod, to crouch down by the hearth and place the birds in the embers. Distant hooves could be heard approaching and moments later, Shuul shouldered his way through the half-open door, with a small reptile in one hand and a strange, very ripe-looking purple fruit in the other. He smirked and tossed the fruit in their direction; Espira had to catch it carefully, before it hit and exploded all over Ji.

  “Thank you!” she said in a reproachful tone, as the purple juice ran between her fingers onto the floor. She gave the first bite to Ji, before trying it herself. Her expression changed and she spoke with a full mouth and purple lips. “Well, Shuul, I have to say it's delicious!” She wiped the juice away from her chin with the back of her hand.

  Xandor and Shuul regaled the couple with anecdotes of their hunting exploits while the meat cooked and in less than an hour they had devoured it, the only evidence of the meal, a few bones, blackening in the dying embers.

  Licking his fingers, Xandor stood. “Come, Shuul! We must saddle up and load the samblars.”

  The two men left the cabin and Espira turned to Ji. “You are sure you can stand the pain? I could help . . . you know we have no lubio . . .”

  Ji's flat stare denied her intervention and she tensed, but he smiled to soften the awkwardness; he sat up and shimmied across the straw mattress, clenching his jaw as he eased his legs over the edge of the pallet. Waiting a moment for the surge of pain to recede, he muttered through his teeth. “I think one more kiss will get me moving!”

  More than happy to oblige, Espira kissed him soundly and helped him to his feet. Hugging her closer than absolutely necessary, he leaned heavily on her and they made unsteady progress to the waiting samblars.

  Jostled between the two men, Ji bit back a groan as he was hoisted aboard his mount. Taking the reins in one hand, he tested his injured arm and swore. “I don't think I can lead my pack animals, Shuul. Perhaps, you can tie them to yours.”

  Shuul attempted this, but one of Ji's led samblars seemed to dislike being so close to Shuul's, biting and kicking out until he separated them again, with a ripe Cymbian profanity. “Well, my friend, that is obviously not going to work!” He held on tight to the lead rein, but the animal continued to roll its eyes, so stirred up by the experience, it baulked and pulled against Shuul, having taken an intense dislike to him as well.

  The second samblar became fractious, catching the nervous mood of the first.

  Espira stepped in, taking the troublesome animal's lead-rope from Shuul, and cooed some unintelligible endearment which immediately calmed it. She led it, with its usual quiet companion, to where Ji sat astride his samblar, and leapt lightly up behind him, both ropes still in one hand.

  The other arm encircled Ji's waist as she passed on her insights about the secret life of the two sparring creatures. She indicated with a glance towards one of Shuul's pack animals. “Last night that one tried to mate this one!” She gave the men a pointed look. “That one has been gelded but he is a rig, and this gentle girl is not in her breeding cycle!”

  Shuul thought the female animal looked anything but gentle, but Ji understood the problem which he would have noticed earlier, had he not been pre-occupied with his injury.

  Xandor hovered patiently above them. He chuckled. “It looks like Lady Espira has save
d the day, again!”

  Straightening her back, Espira spoke tersely, urging Ji's mount forward with her heels. “Let's move. Time is no friend today!”

  At their lady's command, the group set off towards the road.

  Chapter 46 : PATIENCE

  Everything comes to those that wait,

  If they wait patiently...

  If not on time, it may be late,

  But comes eventually. . .

  -Dennis Martindale

  Dawn arrived but Espira had not.

  Luminor had not slept much. Instead, he crept out to sit on the front steps of the farmhouse; gazing at the clearing night sky, he watched the twin moons rise over the mountains. There, with Espira's ruined cloak pulled tight around his shoulders, he passed some hours in meditation, struggling to see more than a glimpse of her return. His projective power was weak; any sense of Espira, or her companions, was fleeting at best, even with her cloak as a token. He wondered if this lack was permanent.

  Over and again, he searched his mind to gain more than an inkling of why he was still alive. Without doubt, he was physically stronger than before his illness, but his special talents had been much slower to recover. Each skill he had employed since Ardientor's death seemed to have a mere shadow of its former power. His intuition seemed unreliable, this outcome so different to what he had expected. And, frustrating in its mystery, the only answer to every question in his heart was the same: patience.

  Of course, to fight patience was a fool's game. And he was never a fool! His words had foretold of changing times, a new age, yet to be understood. Fortunately, he possessed enough sense and tenacity to ask if he – perhaps more than anyone – should not only endure but embrace any change it brought.

  As he watched the misty clouds drift across the moons, Ra's silhouette appeared on the horizon, returning from his hunt. Luminor left the porch, with a quick mental note that he must get himself a new cloak, and made his way on foot, through the rows of tents to meet him.

  Ra settled on a grassy knoll, his watchful eyes following Luminor's approach. He lowered his muzzle.

  Luminor reached out gently. It is always good to see you, my friend! Since you are here with me, I know she is safe . . . but I have other need of your wisdom. I know you will give it, even though you are no longer mine!

  Sitting cross-legged beside the dragon, Luminor prepared to wait out the remainder of the night in Ra's magnanimous company.

  In the still, dark and misty pre-dawn, drawing solace from Ra, Luminor finally arrived at an answer to a deeply troubling question. He was certain now that the strange void in his soul was even more than the wrenching loss of Ardientor. It was something he had glimpsed before the first encounter with the Zorgs; his son's death had been a turning point. Since that fateful event, he felt mentally wrung-out.

  The stark truth of it had come during the night: he had tried to light a small fire for warmth but, after numerous attempts, could muster nothing more than an impotent spark. The Supreme Power, Fire – the Destroyer, no longer heeded his bidding. He suspected it never would again!

  And so it was with a humble heart, the Gaian warrior, Luminor, known as Lord of Fire, met the rising sun, facing a mysterious future and a growing population who apparently still looked to him for leadership. Even now, people had seen him leave the dragon's side and had begun to assemble around him to receive his morning address.

  As he surveyed the swelling crowd, he felt strangely out of place and time. This was not how he had seen it. For a fleeting moment, he was the youth who stood beside his father, Thunis, high on the cliffs of Mount Varn, untried, unsure, on the brink of his sojourn; then again, he was the brave warrior lord who had seen and done so much more.

  How many times have I made such an address? He had lost count.

  At the farmhouse, he climbed the steps to stand on the porch. His voice and manner were powerful still.

  “Good people, by some accident, I make this address in place of Lady Espira. She has been delayed, but be assured, she will be with us soon!

  “Here and now, you all have a new chance at life. The Zorgs are gone, at least for a time. Your towns and cities still stand and the fields can be tilled again. There may be some of your countrymen, militia and other survivors, roaming this vast land. It is clear to me that we do not have time to scour all of Morvia. We must make the journey across the Impossible Mountains before winter traps us all here!

  “The crossing will be arduous and fraught with danger. Some of you might not make it, but those who do can live safely in our world, under the Alliance and its elected council. You are free now. It is your choice. Do you leave with us tomorrow under our protection? Of course, if you stay to rebuild a life here, I can make no guarantees!

  “Please make your decision within the hour, for we must prepare. Departure will be at dawn tomorrow!”

  As the crowd broke into groups, abuzz with discussion, Luminor stepped back and seated himself on a wooden bench to wait for the many questions which would come. His eyes drifted over a small sea of bald, bobbing heads as the Morvians debated their futures, then across the puddled farmland, now glistening in the watery, early morning sun; inexorably, his gaze was drawn to the imposing wall of the Impossible Mountains rising up before them, the peaks obscured in cloud. His prayers were for them all.

  Luminor's reverie was disturbed when Dak flew in and landed on the porch, a folded feather cloak over one arm. “Good morn, my lord!” He held out the garment. “The men wanted you to have this . . . you have need of a good one! It belonged to brother Salor,” said Dak, making the sign of the Ancestors. “We are taking it home to his family, but he would have wanted you to make use of it!” He offered the cloak, with a sad smile for a lost brother. Luminor received it, with a grateful nod; his face showed unusual strain.

  Dak's speculative eyes remained on Luminor. “Something troubles you, my lord? I have never before seen this in you.”

  The ensuing silence spoke to him of rare vulnerability in his powerful liege lord. Confident in his insights, Dak was never one to beat about the bush. “Does something of your illness yet linger? Do you not expect Lady Espira and brother Xandor soon, as I do?”

  Luminor smiled ruefully. “As you can well see . . . much has changed and I must accept it all! Loss is something without which we do not truly live!” His eyes were forlorn one moment, resigned the next. “However, thanks to the dragon, I know Essie and the others will be with us this very day! Beyond that, the future remains a mystery. Until Fate plays her next hand, demanding patience, I merely watch, finding the most I can manage for now is tolerance!”

  Dak gave Luminor a sympathetic look. “No Gaian, even you my lord, has ever been – nor will ever be – able to see the future exactly, purely because things are ever-changing, are they not?” He raised his eyebrows in question, then frowned. “However, I would not presume to say the same for the mental talents of some of our hybrid children!” There was a note of consolation in his next comment. “We are part of a new civilisation. As you said before, my lord, we must look forward to its realisation . . . after all, we shall have Lady Espira, and her generation, to inspire us!”

  Luminor welcomed Dak's candour; he nodded in agreement. “It seems, I have been given a little time . . . perhaps to guide her. . .and to wait. Good things have a way of happening slowly, while tests attack without restraint. This is all a lesson to me, though I am not sure what I must learn, more than patience. But, since I am still alive, I believe it will warm my heart more than a little, to see her rise to her destiny!”

  A large group of enquirers had gathered at the base of the steps and more Morvians were making their way towards the farmhouse; resigned, and quite surprised to feel a new glimmer of forbearance, Luminor rose to his feet and went to hear their concerns.

  By midday, most of the refugees had made their decisions. A large majority chose to leave Morvia. The small group who wanted to stay behind were given a samblar and a portion of the grain st
ore, to start a life on this farm after the main company had gone. During the afternoon, they helped grind flour and bake bannocks for the journey and other Morvians joined the cavalrymen, filling panniers with loaves and other supplies for the departure. There was a mood of hopeful excitement.

  While overseeing the activities, Luminor and the captains stood on the porch, discussing the marching orders for the following day.

  Jimbu's eyes followed his countrymen as they bustled about. “I am surprised they are so light-hearted! I am certain more than a few can see this will be no simple day-trip into the mountains!”

  “It is good to keep the spirits high! I think our soldiers prefer think on arriving home, rather than what might happen along the way. They have learned that worrying changes nothing!” said Stolis.

  Luminor nodded thoughtfully and sighed. “It seems, however, to turn a day into a week!”

  Sumar shared a look with Dak, before he spoke. In Xandor's absence, they were equally responsible to Luminor for the Gaian warriors, the vanguard and the hunters, disadvantaged by their empty quivers. “Our wait is almost over. Lady Espira's party will be here soon and we should have arrows.”

  “I expect that the Morvian stayers will need a few shafts for their longbows. And, with luck, our comrades also bring extra bolts for the cross-bows we found,” added Dak. “There is little more to be done until they arrive!”

  The meeting concluded and they went to wash in the stream, while the Morvian women cooked vats of barley porridge for the evening meal.

  After the warm blessing of a mild and sunny day, cloaks, garments and blankets were thoroughly dry. A large number of skins and furs, found in the loft of the barn, were packed into the company saddle-bags. Campfires blazed merrily, laden with pots of bubbling barley-grist and children played happily around them.