Dragonvein Book Five

by Brian D. Anderson

  He paused for a dramatic moment before adding: “That’s when it spoke to me.”

  Kat stiffened. “Maytra spoke?”

  Her father nodded. “Indeed. And not in some vague way. In words – human words. She said that she must leave us now. Also to tell you that she will miss you greatly, and is forever in your debt. I was far too stunned to be capable of saying anything in return. All I could do was stare like some slack-jawed fool. After that she simply leapt into the air and flew away.”

  “Is that all?” Kat pressed. “Did she say where she was going?”

  “No, I’ve told you everything.” He sighed. “By this time the light was fading, and the enemy had left the field completely. My guards were gathered a few yards away, all of them half-blind and terrified by what they had witnessed. From what I’ve been told since, none of them saw the dragon fly away. I was the only one. All everyone else saw was a blinding ball of light streaking across the sky until it vanished over the treetops. Luckily, your body was back to normal, and we were able to carry you away. You’ve remained unconscious ever since. I’ve been worried beyond measure, though Keira has been assuring me constantly throughout that you would awaken in time.”

  “How long was I out?” Kat asked.

  “Two days,” Keira told her. “This is not uncommon when someone has been touched by the pure unfiltered power of Lumnia. And seeing as how your father had already told me of the spirit’s assurance that you would remain unharmed, I was not concerned.”

  Yularian grumbled. “I, on the other hand, did not share her optimism.”

  “But what about the healer saying that people might be afraid of me?” Kat persisted.

  Keira and her father exchanged glances.

  After a short silence, Yularian cleared his throat. “Yes. That. Well, it appears that since you’ve been unconscious, our entire army has been having nightmares...about you.”

  “Nightmares? What kind of nightmares?”

  “That’s the strange thing. No one can remember,” Keira chipped in. “Just that you were there and that they were terrified on waking up.”

  Kat was unsure how to react to this. Why would anyone be having bad dreams about her? “Have you had these nightmares?” she asked.

  Both Keira and her father nodded. After an uncomfortably long silence, her father grabbed the flask and tossed it over to Keira. “I’m sure they’ll stop now that you’ve regained consciousness,” he said.

  “I agree,” added Keira after taking a drink. “It’s probably just some trick of Shinzan’s intended to instill fear and doubt into our hearts.”

  Despite her positive words, the way they came out was unconvincing. It was clear that she had found the experience to be more than a little disturbing.

  “Yes, that’s exactly what it is,” declared Yularian, his light and boisterous tone ringing equally hollow. “Just another of Shinzan’s tricks. And as with all his others, this one will fail too.”

  They sat talking for a time longer. King Yularian explained that the army had been marching north since the day of the battle. Many Al’ Theonan towns had been ravaged, and soon the capital itself would come under siege. He also said there had been no sign of Lylinora joining them yet and wondered aloud what might have delayed her. This was a little troubling to Kat, but she knew how much traveling spells drained her fellow mage. Most likely Lylinora had elected to come by horseback instead. To her great relief, there was better news of Lynial. He had already arrived, though had since gone on ahead to aid Queen Berathis in defense of her city.

  Soldiers began filing into the tent. Apparently, Kat had awoken during their meal time, and now that it was over, most of them were ready to bed down for the night.

  “I hope you don’t mind the company,” Keira said. She had moved her bedroll directly next to Kat’s, while Yularian had taken one immediately on the other side. “Tents are in short supply. We must make do.”

  “I’ve slept in worse,” Kat responded.

  She couldn’t help but notice the odd looks the men were giving her. They were still afraid. Very afraid. But what could they have possibly witnessed her doing in their nightmares that would cause them so much fear? She decided to go along with Keira’s earlier assessment: It was a trick planted in their minds by Shinzan. It had to be. They would forget soon enough, now that she had recovered consciousness.

  Her mind drifted to Ethan. She tried to imagine him safe and secure. But images of him in peril still managed to worm their way through, causing her heart to pound wildly and panic to rise. It was a long time before sleep eventually took hold of her. And when it did, her dreams were plagued by images of Ethan desperately battling to stay alive.

  Fighting…and losing.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Lynial could already see the smoke from Jar’ Malifica rising above the treetops. In fact, even the sound of the battle taking place there was loud enough to penetrate the dense forest standing between him and the city. He dearly wished Maytra were still with them. News of her departure had been a blow, and the circumstances behind it perplexing.

  Through his father, he had learned much about the ways of elves and their faith. Up until now he had never seen it as anything more than sheer superstition and nonsense – primitive ways to explain the unknown. But now he thought perhaps there was rather more to it. Even so, he was finding the idea of Lumnia possessing an actual consciousness very hard to grasp. If it was truly there, why had it not made itself known? Why allow the millenniums of war and turmoil to persist?

  He knew his uncle Praxis would never have troubled himself with such thoughts. He was far too grounded and pragmatic to engage in speculation about the spirit. That had been Lady Illyrian’s realm of interest. The thought of his aunt sent a wave of guilt and regret running through him. An uncomfortable notion formed. By allowing her to live, had he only succeeded in prolonging her suffering? In truth, had he chosen to spare her out of hope and mercy…or personal weakness?

  With an effort, he forced such quandaries from his mind. His father might have been a great man, but for the time being he needed all the characteristics of his uncle to remain dominant.

  Lynial waved his hands and muttered a charm. Within seconds his feet had lifted off the ground and he was drifting vertically upwards. He needed to gauge the situation first. Charging in without knowing what he might be facing would be folly. Even without enemy mages to contend with, sheer numbers could still overwhelm him if he got careless.

  Soon he was nearing the low clouds. Stopping his ascent, he took stock of the battle now clearly in view ahead. The enemy had the city surrounded, and at least a dozen siege towers had been wheeled up against the front outer wall. Already a substantial number of soldiers had scaled these and were now busy battling furiously with defenders on the ramparts; many more attackers were still scrambling up to join them. On the ground, a huge body of soldiers was grouped outside the gates, obviously waiting for their comrades to open them from within. Lynial could well understand this tactic. The Imperial commander must be confident that those already engaged on the battlements were capable of fighting their way through to the gate house, so he had chosen not to waste men battering the gate down. A prudent move. Such an assault could be a very costly business with determined defenders above, and this force was not nearly as large as the one King Halvar had fought.

  Satisfied with his plan of action, Lynial caused a burst of wind to propel him rapidly toward the city. Casting a spell of sight, he took a closer look at his foes. The silent ones were there – mostly among those waiting for the gates to open. But the rest were men of a normal nature. This was good. Everyone he’d spoken with had been wondering if Shinzan was now using only the silent ones to wage his war. They figured that, even if this were so, a few of his servants with independent wills must still be in command. The silent ones did not appear capable of thinking for themselves.

  With his arrival now spotted, a volley of arrows climbed toward Lynial. Not that this wa
s of any concern. At his current great height, none had a hope of reaching him. He watched as, one by one, the missiles began falling back to earth, many of them ironically returning to sink into the very flesh of those who had dispatched them. The sight of this was enough to elicit a soft laugh. Still, he warned himself, he needed to take care. Once he descended, those arrows would be a serious threat. But first…

  He sent a rapid succession of fireballs crashing into the base of every siege tower, instantly bringing panic and confusion to the Imperial ranks. Satisfied with this, he then selected a suitable place on the ramparts, spread his arms wide, and focused his mind. He needed to take great care not to allow the spell keeping him aloft to break.

  “Alevi Drago!” His voice thundered like a hundred trumpets.

  It was still echoing loudly when a great fiery dragon, every bit as massive as Maytra herself, came diving from the sky straight toward the base of the wall. Lynial smiled. He had always loved this spell – the raw power combined with the beauty of a dragon was breathtaking. Praxis had taught it to him when he was still a teen, though this was the first time he had been able to witness its effects in a pitch battle.

  His fearsome creation erupted into a tempest of flaming death. Such was the violence of this blast, large chunks of earth and rock were thrown skyward, some very nearly reaching even Lynial’s highly elevated position. Limbs were instantly turned to ash – weapons and armor melted beyond recognition. Those lucky soldiers who were positioned just beyond the spell’s lethal embrace were in full scale retreat, though their numbers made it impossible to do so with any speed.

  Using this moment of chaos, Lynial lowered himself as quickly as safety would allow. On the ramparts, the sight of what he had unleashed on the ground had caused a brief lull in the fighting. By this point, the enemy soldiers who had so far gained a foothold were also becoming aware that every one of the siege towers they had stepped from was now fully engulfed in flames, cutting off any hope of the extra men they needed to complete their mission. They were now trapped and outnumbered. Being mostly humans rather than silent ones, their morale was also collapsing. Satisfied that the city’s defenders were now capable of dispatching them, Lynial made his way to the top of a nearby mural tower.

  From this lofty position, he began targeting the Imperials near the base of the wall with savage bolts of lightning. The defenders, awed and uncertain as to what was happening, responded by hastily fleeing their posts to the narrow avenue below. Lynial heaved a sigh. They were leaving the walls around the gates totally undefended. The enemy would see this and soon bring ladders to renew the attack. He could also spot a few siege towers in position against the city’s rear walls, though the ramparts there were so far still holding secure.

  Their fear was only to be expected, he supposed. Men of his era would have quickly understood that a mage had come to aid them. But these people were unlikely to have seen magic in any form before and would not understand that he was an ally.

  A deep booming sound from the direction of the main gate drove this thought from his mind. Spitting a curse, he quickly lowered himself to ground level and caught hold of a confused-looking soldier. On seeing Lynial, he immediately pressed his back to the wall with eyes wide.

  “I’m here to help, you fool,” Lynial barked at him. “Where is your commander?”

  It took a moment for the soldier to reply. “He’s d…dead.”

  “What is your name?”

  “Trimot.”

  “Very well, Trimot. By the authority of the House Dragonvein, I hereby promote you to the rank of commander.”

  “Dragonvein?” he said incredulously.

  “Yes. I am Lynial Dragonvein, cousin to Ethan Dragonvein, and you will obey me now. Am I understood?”

  After a brief pause, Tremot nodded. “Yes…My Lord.”

  “Good. Now gather as many men as you can and get them back up on the wall. Tell them I will roast the first man who abandons his post or fails to comply.”

  “Yes…yes, My Lord.” Saluting sharply, he hurried away, shouting for the men to return to the wall as he ran.

  This done, Lynial made with full speed to the city gates. He had already noted their construction and knew full well it wouldn’t take long for the silent ones to batter them down. Though artful and pleasing to the eye, they were not nearly thick enough to repel a determined assault.

  Aside from the soldiers running back and forth, the streets were mostly deserted. Most ordinary citizens would be seeking refuge in their homes. Not that this would do anything to save them should the city fall.

  On reaching the gates, he saw was more than two hundred swords lined up; every one of them simply stood there waiting to engage the invaders once the flimsy barrier had finally given way. Lynial cursed. The damn fools! Was there nobody here who knew what they were doing? His eyes shifted to a man on horseback with a red plume atop his helm at the rear of the line. He was trotting up and down while shouting words of encouragement to the waiting men. Frustrated beyond belief, Lynial sent an invisible force to dislodge him from his mount.

  He stormed toward the fallen figure, growling with anger. “Why are your men not on the wall?” he demanded. “Are you simple, or just ignorant?”

  The captain scrambled up, fumbling to unsheathe his weapon. “Just who the…?”

  There was no time for pointless arguments. Lynial caused his eyes to glow a blazing red. “You will be taking orders from me from now on,” he growled. “Am I understood?”

  The captain backed away, fear stricken.

  “Order you men to the wall,” Lynial commanded. When the man made no move to comply, he spread his arms wide and turned to face the gate. “Step away!” he shouted, enhancing his voice with magic.

  The startled soldiers did as they were told at once. The gate was now bending and groaning with each successive strike. Time was nearly up. He had to act immediately.

  “Hulio Avesti Mons!”

  The ground around them began trembling violently, sending several of the soldiers tumbling from their feet. Like a miniature earthquake, the cobblestones directly in front of the gates then started to churn and split apart. Accompanied by a mixture of deep sucking noises and vicious sounding cracks, gradually a wall of dirt and rubble began climbing its way up the gate. Once it had reached the top it immediately solidified into one huge gray lump.

  “That should give you time,” Lynial told the captain, who was staring at the newly formed barrier with a combination of fear and disbelief. “Now order your men to repel the enemy at your gates.”

  The captain blinked hard, then shook himself into action. “You heard him!” he shouted. “Everyone up on the wall.”

  Lynial resisted the urge to reprimand the officer. It would serve nothing to do so. Such a man should never have been placed in charge of defending a city. “How many swords do you have?” he asked.

  “Six hundred,” he replied.

  Lynial groaned. Not remotely enough. This would be a hard day.

  “Might I ask who you are?” the captain asked nervously.

  “Lynial Dragonvein,” he replied. “Tell me why so few have been left to protect the city.”

  As with the other soldier he had spoken to, the name Dragonvein had an instant impact. “My Lord,” he said, his body actually dipping slightly in the beginning of a bow. “The queen has ordered the bulk of her army north to prevent the Imperials from destroying the villages. They have been recalled, but we have no idea when to expect them.”

  Lynial ran his eyes more closely over the man. He did not have the bearing of a fighting soldier, that much was certain. Far more likely he was a clerk or quartermaster who’d been put in charge due to rank rather than ability. With a sigh, he switched his attention to scan the nearby area. The broad avenue behind them was lined on either side with shops, liveries, and inns, while to the front he could see a tall bell tower atop the gate house.

  “Send one of your men up there,” he ordered, pointing to the
tower. “The gates should hold for a time. But if they threaten to break, sound the warning bell and clog the avenue with whatever you can find.”

  He started to leave, but then paused to regard the captain one more time. “Whatever your role or whatever you did to serve the queen before this moment is in the past. Do you hear me? You are a warrior now – and a leader of men. Show them your courage and they will live through this day.”

  His encouraging words seemed to strike a chord. The captain’s back stiffened and his chin raised. “I will, My Lord. You have my oath on that.”

  Lynial nodded curtly. “Good! Then go about your business.”

  He could hear renewed confidence in the man’s voice as he set about ordering the bell tower manned and for more arrows to be brought to the archers on the wall. As for himself, he could almost feel the family conflict taking place within: Praxis was busy scolding him for coddling the incompetent, while at the same time his father was issuing praise for bolstering the courage of someone in need. He frowned. He had a strong feeling that it would be his endurance as much as his own courage that would be tested to the full before this day was out.

  For hour after hour, he darted about the city, doing whatever he could to aid the defense. After destroying the remaining siege towers at the rear, he set to blanketing the ground around the city perimeter with fire. Enhanced by magic, it burned slowly and crept outward for fifty yards before gradually dying away. Though the spell was not a particularly difficult one to perform, repeated castings were already beginning to drain him, so much so that there was no magical energy to spare for enhancing his speed or levitating throughout the city. The sheer physical exertion of endlessly dashing from location to location and climbing the walls meant there was sure to be a price to pay. And so there was. By mid-afternoon it felt as if every muscle in his body was close to collapse and a red-hot knife was being twisted viciously inside his skull.