“Join me.” Haiberuk held out his hand to Jayson.
Jayson placed his palm over the master’s and turned to the next closest of the Sh’lahmar. Haiberuk pulled the power flowing through their connection to himself. What little remained to him, Jayson gave up freely.
Growls and groans reverberated in the underground chamber.
Whatever Haiberuk planned, he’d better hurry.
The nearest beast rose up using the clawed joints of its wings. With powerful hind limbs and long tails, they resembled their brethren, but these were not like the other dragons.
Jayson gasped at the sight of the wyverns, the vicious creatures of nightmares, moving. They were said to be smaller than the true dragons but these were larger than he expected.
The Red Clan screeched their anger.
“Rise, brothers and sisters!” Lusiradrol’s triumphant voice rose over the clamor of their awakening. “Today you shall have your revenge!”
Haiberuk lifted his eyes to the roof of the cavern. A grim expression fixed on his face, his eyes focused on the stalactites, some as large as the dragons.
The cavern shook, breaking the enormous spears free. They rained down on the beasts, stabbing many in their vulnerable points on their heads and leaving them dead. The hardness of their scales shielded their flesh from serious injury, except in that soft spot.
“NO!” Lusiradrol turned to them, her eyes ablaze with malice.
The cavern continued to shake beneath them. They would likely die in the attempt. Jayson took small comfort in knowing they diminished the population of the Darklord’s servants.
Lusiradrol wobbled amid the pounding of rock collapsing around her. One of the wyverns ducked down, and she jumped aboard its neck with a deftness that could only have come from magic. Together they rushed the Sh’lahmar.
Jayson winced at the wave of red bodies racing at them. They’d never stop the onslaught and the Red Clan would escape.
Apparently Haiberuk thought a chance remained. He stood his ground, still focused on pulling down whatever he could to pummel the beasts.
The one bearing down on them with Lusiradrol on its shoulders let loose a breath of flame, but Haiberuk deflected the fire upwards without touching it.
Lusiradrol drove the beast to attack.
At the last second, Jayson and the others let go and ducked away. He rolled into a pile of rocks and slammed his head into a boulder. His vision scattered, though he thought he caught sight of the dragon running through the master. Unlikely, but not impossible. The Majera were not corporeal beings, but they would not let this happen.
After they passed, Haiberuk stood in the same place.
The last vision Jayson caught as a dream. One by one the wyverns rushed out of their hibernation.
The fight drained from him with the realization that he failed.
Somewhere in his dream Master Haiberuk stood over him and smiled. Trust in yourself, child. You are the last.
The world faded. Calli…
__________
Calli
“Jayson!” Calli gasped and sat upright from the cot. Where was she? The stone walls tight together like a narrow corridor with a window at one end opened at the other to a darker interior room. Through the fog of sleep, reality returned. But it had all felt so real, like she’d been there watching.
She had dreamed of a red sea of scaled bodies and falling rocks in a dark cave. Somewhere amid the chaos lay Jayson, wounded or worse.
No. She shook the images away. A dream; only a dream. It was not real, despite all her senses telling her she had been there.
Calli slid her legs over the edge of the cot and rubbed her eyes. She flung the braid of fiery hair over her shoulder and noticed the dirt stains on her clothes—boots and breeches, tunic and bracers.
She still wore her fighting gear. Fighting…Yes. Now she remembered. But her sword—
On the floor where she laid her scabbard before falling asleep in the quiet nook.
The morning rushed back into her memories. She had struggled against General Marjan’s masters but defeated them, this time. He respected her enough to challenge her, but she paid for it. One missed strike had allowed Roan an opening.
Calli twisted to check the wound in her side, and winced at the sting when she moved. Damned be the strength of a man to slam even a wooden blade with force enough to break skin. At least they had found healing herbs in the valley. Already the cut was nothing more than a nuisance that reminded her to move quicker. She would next time. The bruising would last a while, though.
How long had she rested?
She retrieved the sword from the floor and made an effort to stand, but the stinging of the wound and her muscle aches flooded her with pain. She sucked in a deep breath through her teeth. For too long she had focused on cleaning up the fortress and pushed her training aside.
Now, she paid for it with the reminder of muscles not used and a wound from not moving fast enough.
With each step to the window, she walked off the stiffness in her muscles. By the time she reached the glassless, arched window, she stepped with a normal stride.
Fresh air greeted her from the valley graced by the sun, which dipped to the line of mountain peaks behind and to her left. The shadow of the ancient five-tiered fortress fell short of the cliffs to her right. Beyond the shadows, the remainder of one legion of Cavatar’s army practiced their combat skills. Marjan’s troops were more than ready to make up for the damage caused by Overlord Tyrkam.
No. Not yet. He had told her he was not, even if the men were.
Jayson would have been impressed.
Jayson. The dream. Her heart sank, not for the first time since he left them less than a moon cycle ago. His presence had boosted her morale and her confidence for the short time he had accompanied her.
Every night she thought of him and wished he would ride into the valley, lingering at her bedroom window until the moon rose over the mountaintops. If he returned, she would greet him with open arms and never let go. She should have told him how she felt before he left. Maybe he would have stayed.
Each day he failed to return, her heart weighed heavier with grief.
“My lady.” The stern voice cracked the cloud of regrets sinking over her.
Calli turned to General Marjan, her sword belt in her hands. The commander of the men in the valley stopped at the entrance of the nook where she rested. The stiff lines of his face softened minutely beneath the gray-streaked beard, though never affected the air of authority that clung to him, despite the simple dark blue tunic he wore, secured at his waist by the ever-present sword belt. Marjan saw her as a lady more than a warrior. They all did, but she would continue to prove them wrong. Her father, Kaillen, had been appointed to train the royal guards, and he had trained her, although in secret, with the skills of his homeland.
Those skills had not helped her save Istaria from Tyrkam, though.
“Feel better now, lass?”
“Much, thank you.” She forced the longing from her voice and straightened to match his rigid posture. As part of their agreement in sharing the riches of Arronfel, the valley hidden by magic and abandoned when she and Jayson found it, he granted her the respect of counsel as the first to have found the hidden fortress, and as the bearer of the seal of the House of Isolder, given to her as a marriage vow by the prince, Phelan Isolder.. She in turn left him to command his troops without interfering, but she had no interest in leading them. She never had. All she wanted was to rescue her friend, the princess she served until the day Tyrkam’s soldiers abducted her from their carriage.
A hint of a smile touched his lips beneath the gray-peppered mustache. “A fine tough lass, but no less human than any man.” He spoke softly, as if he understood the longing of her heart.
She smiled. Marjan had always been fair to her. She admired his ability to coordinate life in the valley. He was unlike the other generals who had visited the court. He was not arrogant or hard, but he could
be when the situation called for it. “How goes the training of the new recruits?”
Marjan’s scouts had made contact with scattered groups of the king’s disbanded army and others who simply wished revenge against Tyrkam’s treachery. Their army grew each day. Three thousand strong called Arronfel home. Once more the ancient fortress resonated with life.
“They grow stronger and restless. They desire the blood o’ Tyrkam’s men.”
Calli nodded, understanding exactly what he meant. The contempt in his voice mirrored what she felt. “And the season?” She guessed that the same magic hiding the valley also protected it from the extremes of the higher altitude of the mountains and the seasons. Never did snow fall within the valley nor the temperature rise or fall beyond comfort.
“My men report heavy snow on the road, though much less in the lowlands.”
Winter was a difficult season to tolerate on the continent of Ayrule, even worse among the Northern Mountains. If the men grew too restless, they might jeopardize the occupation of the valley. They needed a way to expend that energy. “Might we send small groups to harass Tyrkam’s men?”
He frowned and shook his head. “I advise against it. Winter brings nothing but hardship and disloyalty, and the roads are treacherous.”
“I see…” The road through the mountains could prove difficult to use in the winter months. She had overlooked that fact when they found the valley occupied only by a herd of horses.
“Banish such ideas, or no man’ll respect your decisions.”
Recalling the winters of Cavatar and its burden of cold and snow, she nodded. “I’ve too long forgotten.”
“At least we may grow and prepare for spring. They understand that. In the meantime, I’ve come to bring you to eat.”
“Personally?” He could have sent Quentin, the small-statured scholar who advised him and recorded everything.
“As our agreement, I wished no others to see you in pain, Lady Calli.”
She flinched at the formal title, hating everything it reminded her of losing, especially the mistress she had served and sought to rescue, until Cavatar fell to Tyrkam.
Yet she respected the general’s thoughts to send no one else to retrieve her for the meal. Calli smirked and took a deep breath, which released the tension. “Thank you.”
“I gave my word.” Without further comment, he strode away.
Calli followed, wincing at the first few steps before the stiffness again worked out from her movements. Lessuel Marjan never turned but continued to lead through the rooms and corridors of Linfrathâr.
She hid the pain lingering in her heart, or thought she did, but perhaps Marjan saw and chose not to make his notice obvious, as with her physical discomfort. The war for Cavatar had taken its toll on her and torn her heart to shreds with the loss of family and friends, including her father and Phelan and Istaria.
And now Jayson.
__________
Jayson
Like a flash of lightening through the dead of night, the pain shot through his skull. Blurry images in his memory sharpened with each second of awareness until he opened his eyes.
A dim light permeated the cool black of the underground cavern. He barely made out the enormous dimensions of what remained of the cavern and mounds of rubble, and something else.
The stench attacked as swift as the pain. He pinched his nose to block the sickening odors of reptiles and death. They were nearly as bad dead as alive. He rolled to his side and groaned. Bad move. His body ached and his head throbbed as if pounded beneath the talons of the red wyverns that had escaped their slumber.
Mindful of the pain, he moved slowly from the ground. When he licked his dry lips, he frowned at the metallic taste. Blood. How bad was it?
Jayson probed with his fingers along his face and followed a crusted trail through his tousled black hair to the back of his head. Wonderful. Just what he needed.
With a groan, he struggled to sit up.
Through the sudden seizure of pain freezing his movements, the escape of the Red Clan flooded back from his memories.
What had he done? Where were the other Sh’lahmar guards who defended the vault?
Jayson moved slower to sit up, wincing with each nuance of pain accosting him. His vision cleared in the faint light, which he saw came from a hole above the cavern, to discern mounds of charred something—scales?—among the rocky rubble.
Not a hole but, rather, the ceiling had partially collapsed. They must have broken through above. The passageway would have been tight for them, if they could squeeze through.
Haiberuk failed to stop them all. Lusiradrol had escaped with a good number of her clan before Jayson blacked out.
No. He failed. He, Jayson, inadvertently led Lusiradrol to this place. He should not have returned, but she would have found it one way or another with Darius’s brooch. What else could he do but return to warn them?
Stayed with Calli. Protected her. Fool! I did this.
Jayson winced. Damn! His head hurt.
He rose to his feet a little at a time, as his head permitted. How long had he been out?
The noise of his movements resounded throughout the cavern as he kicked gravel and rocks aside while attempting to make his feet stay under him. He leaned on a large boulder until his feet agreed to cooperate.
Once standing, he gazed about while the throbbing in his head lessened.
A few of his colleagues had fallen in battle. Like faded shadows, they left impressions in the magic. If they were dead, where were the bodies?
The obvious answer made him cringe. Of course the Red Clan would be hungry when they awakened—after more than three thousand years—but why leave him if that was the case? How did they miss him?
Someone must have survived as the dragons rushed from the vault, or he would be dead. He had to find them, if humanity was to be saved. He also had to warn Calli, or he’d never forgive himself.
Moving a step at a time, Jayson fumbled his way through the corridors. Rubble lined the path where the dragons had knocked chunks from the walls and ceiling. That answered one question—at least some of the Red Clan had passed through the corridor.
After some stumbling, he emerged into the fading light of day filtering into the cavern. Silence surrounded him. Everyone was gone.
Jayson squinted in the warm sunlight outside the dark vault. His eyes focused amid the spots dancing in his vision.
A couple steps outside, he halted. Ash and dust stirred up beneath his feet. The black death left from dragon fire coated the ground in the small valley around him. Blackened tree stumps stuck up like giant teeth, smoking from the fire that had must have consumed them and burned out.
He fell against a large boulder hewn from the entrance of the vault and gazed in shock. What had they done? How long had he been out?
A hawk’s shrill call pierced the air, rousing Jayson from his stupor. The raptor glided down. The weak stirrings of magic from it relieved his confusion.
Gaispar!
She hovered above the ash for a moment. The wings grew into cloaked arms and the young woman stood on the earth. A small cloud of gray dust rose about her boots. She threw back her hood from a head of blonde hair, her blue eyes scanning the destruction surrounding her.
He grimaced at a throbbing hammer in his head. “How bad is it?”
She met his eyes with a frown. “Not as bad from the air. They’ve only scorched this area, but I spied dragons grounded to the south.”
“She’s heading for Tyrkam.” There was some satisfaction in this mess. “Imagine his face.” Tyrkam had struck a deal with Lusiradrol to help find her clan in return for her support to conquer Cavatar. From Makleor—the old mage who pretended to help Tyrkam—Jayson understood that the overlord had canceled that arrangement. The black dragon wanted his hide for that.
Gaispar attempted a smile but it twisted into a grimace. “Unless they work with him.”
“I preferred not to consider that.”
> “Whatever the matter, the others should know.”
“If they’ve not already seen it.” Master Haiberuk told him and the other Sh’lahmar that, though the true dragons resided in a completely different realm, they observed happenings in this world. If so, then they already knew, as would Darius and Istaria. What actions would they take?
What actions indeed. Dragons against dragons would be fascinating but terrible at the same time, but there were other matters now to concern him. “What of the Lumathir?”
“I’m on my way to meet with Tahronen now. Istaria wished to know of her family, so I left three days ago. This—” She indicated the cinders with a gesture of her head. “—will change things.”
“That I’ve no doubt.” It changed too many things. “Chaos is unleashed.”
One fine eyebrow arched on her face. No panic. No fear. Just a single eyebrow lifting. Not what he would have expected, but he supposed if he had lived three hundred years with immortality, he might not find much excitement in this.
“Never did it leave this world. Or do you know something I do not?”
Jayson shook his head and rose to his feet. The throbbing returned with the movement, but it bothered him less than it had previously.
She was right; he would grant that. The Darklord was a creation by the original Chaos of the universe in answer to the formation of Light and Order. Since the Darklord resided in Lusiradrol, Chaos had never left the world.
With a few seconds of no movement, the throbbing lessened. Jayson blinked and met the eyes of the woman, a touch of his usual liveliness returning with the lessening of the hammer pounding his head. “Lovely to chat with you, but have we not other duties to attend?”
A thin smile played across her lips. “I’ll find you later.”
“Provided I’ve not fallen to that devil by then.”
Her smile curved higher. “I doubt that.” She lifted her arms and transformed into the hawk. Gaispar rose into the sky.
When she vanished over the horizon, he returned his attention to more immediate concerns.
Moving with care to avoid setting off the aches and pains in his body, Jayson walked in the direction of the living quarters of the Sh’lahmar. They were once the Guardians of the Secret, the magi trained to keep the vault hidden and protected since Makleor and the dragons cast the sleeping spell over the Red Clan. Already cursed to human form, Lusiradrol fled before Makleor’s spell trapped her. Only recently had she sought her clan, and only because she found a clue left by Darius when he fled with Istaria from Tyrkam’s forces.
Legends Page 2
