* * *
After spending the transition of night in the library, Dorjan fought to keep his eyes open. The long journey combined with the extensive report to Tyrkam exhausted him. The beds in the palace would be a great relief to his weariness.
He closed the door of the library behind him and walked through the quiet corridors to the room Tyrkam had prepared for him.
Here, he could sleep in peace, a welcome change from the constant vigil required while in Wynmere with Vahrik in charge. He could concentrate on more important matters.
Through the shadows of the corridor echoed a familiar sound. The steady tap of wood on stone surprised him. How had the old mage traveled the distance so fast? Had he imagined him back in the castle?
When the robed figure entered the light of the flickering candles, Dorjan stopped. The only way he could make the distance in short time was to ride as they had, or through magic. A very old, very powerful magic. Makleor was more than he revealed, if that was true. Could this be the one he had been warned about, the traitor who killed the white dragon and was cursed by the spirit to wander the world forever until completing his penance?
“A stranger, dear,” the old man mumbled. Something moved on his shoulder. “Faster than I expected he came. Hmm… Yes, must remember that.”
Dorjan watched the old man hobble to within a few steps of him. A black and white rat sat on the man’s shoulder, its tiny nose twitching in the air.
Makleor turned his head to the rat and smiled. “This one I helped. Vahrik—” The old mage snorted in derision. “Pompous fool!” Makleor paused, his head tilted as if listening to the rat.
“You think that wise? I’d not. You know not his heritage. Another purpose he has not revealed.” A blue eye glittered in the flickering candlelight, the other hidden beneath his hood.
Frowning, Dorjan crossed his arms and watched the old man hobble past him. His mutterings blurred down the corridor until they disappeared around a corner. What was that about? Perhaps the old mage was insane, but at the same time he was still very powerful.
Dorjan shuddered to think of great power in the hands of a madman. At least Tyrkam was sane enough to be cunning and predictable.
What did the old man mean by another purpose not yet revealed? Did he mean Vahrik? Or someone else?
Dorjan tensed. Did Makleor know of him? Was he the object of the statement? If anyone was aware of his true purpose, it could only be someone who knew of the First Race. For the mage to say such things about him indicated the sharp cunning of one of great control and knowledge
Or one who lived many years. Perhaps the mage of the old stories had not faded from existence. If he was the same, Makleor—Mallenor as he was called in the old tales—deserved his punishment.
He would keep a close eye on the mage.
The other on Tyrkam.
__________
Jayson
The drakin played their games beyond the trees surrounding Jayson in the clearing. Past the river flowing between the hillside where he stood and the next, the cattle and deer herds grazed on the green plain. Calves chased the small reptiles that gathered among the short brush to eat berries, sending up a flurry of leathery wings they chased from below.
Calli would love the peace of Eyr Droc.
Jayson shook away the distraction. They either had to break the crystal block or carry it. He doubted they would have time to try to break the magic once inside. That meant carrying her.
Back to the same old argument of how would they carry her. If he could not break the spell before trouble arrived, they’d have to bring Calli to safety to work on freeing her. For that to happen, they needed to transport her to Eyr Droc. He could think of no easy way to make that happen.
Frustration boiled over inside him. Jayson swung his leg back and let loose a good kick at a rock, sending it flying into the trees. Damn you, Lusiradrol! I cannot even curse your name more than it is.
“That’s one rock that will never dare to insult you.”
Darius could take his jests and stick them elsewhere.
With no trace of amusement in his mood, Jayson looked down at the couple sitting in the shade of the tree around which he paced. While the smile on Darius’s face cooled his temper, the hand on Istaria’s belly made him look away. He could not think of that now. Each day they delayed put Calli at greater risk.
“What choices have we not considered?” Darius asked.
Before any answer came, a green dragon appeared with wings spread out far from the body.
The soaring serpentine figure of green glided into the meadow and landed with only a light vibration through the ground. Once settled, it folded its wings at its sides.
Jayson blinked, unable to believe his eyes. They grew that large?
With Darius’s help, Istaria climbed to her feet and ran at a waddling pace for the dragon. It lowered its head to the ground as gentle as a pup. Without hesitation, she laid her head against the spiked crest at the back of his head, which alone dwarfed her in its immensity. The dragon’s gentle ways proved it had many years of exposure to human frailty.
Darius stood next to Jayson. “Sethirngal; her primary teacher.”
Jayson nodded, understanding now the reason for her enthusiasm.
After the brief greeting, Istaria stepped away, and Sethirngal lifted his head to fix his eyes on them.
Now two have we
before me I see.
The genuine surprise in the voice made Jayson smile. Such a large dragon must have lived long enough to know few surprises, and at that size, Sethirngal had lived a long life. In his teachings, Haiberuk indicated that true dragons never stopped growing, though it slowed as they aged to almost nothing.
In his creation of the Red Clan, the Darklord stunted their growth when he sped up their development. Just as well, since they made up in ferocity what they lacked in size. Bigger meant they needed more to eat to satisfy their bellies, not exactly beneficial to anyone.
Jayson shook away the thoughts and gave Sethirngal a bow of respect. “I am humbled before you.” He could almost see a smile on the dragon’s face.
A silver-tongued stranger you are,
but could be no other than Sh’lahmar.
What was cannot again be,
but more than a trace in you I see.
‘More than a trace’? He dared not ask what “more” the dragon saw in him, for fear of a roundabout answer that would only lead to madness should he ever solve the riddle. The riddles of the dragons were well-versed in legends, but the couple of younger firedrakes he’d met in his time in Eyr Droc spoke in much simpler terms.
A deep sigh rumbled from the depths of the serpentine body and the giant eye rotated to Istaria.
Lady of our noble heir,
I have come with news to share.
There lies outside the hidden gates,
a man of ill to others’ fates.
Another outside the portal? So occupied had he been that Jayson forgot about the presence that had passed him and Calli into the mountain. It had to be the same. “I believe I was followed by a shapeshifter.”
“A shapeshifter?”
“Yes, but not Gaispar.”
Darius frowned, his eyes lost in distant thoughts. After a few seconds, he blinked and refocused on Istaria. “Perhaps I should stay.”
Her expression hardened. I will be safe. Shapeshifters have no other magic. They cannot harm me.
Darius gazed into her eyes, his jaw tightening in uncertainty.
Istaria’s statement was not completely accurate. Something inside Jayson negated her words, something he remembered or that wanted him to remember from the past. Haiberuk told him and the other Son’tal once of one in their ranks both shapeshifter and mage, one who later left the order. Could it be the same who had followed him?
He hoped not, or Istaria might have trouble. Now, if he could remember who that former Sh’lahmar was, he might help.
In the moment between concern for
Istaria and Calli, something clicked in his mind. “Might he—this shapeshifter—want me instead?”
The couple ceased their discussion and turned to him. Confusion creased Darius’s forehead. “For what purpose?”
Jayson shrugged. What purpose of following him, indeed. Istaria was the one everyone sought, for good or ill. But when an itch of his normal mood sparked, he could not resist. “A fascination with a certain dark-haired gentlemen of grandiose designs he’d like to learn?”
Darius sighed and shook his head. “No crazier a man have I met. Haiberuk sent you to watch me?”
“Who else?” Jayson wanted to laugh but found no humor in even the simplest of jests. This was not a matter to take lightly. “In truth, I know not what the man desires.”
Of Tyrkam’s purpose she supposed
that he might have the one opposed,
to gain himself her power borne
and leave us all to weep and mourn.
Jayson said nothing but watched Darius, whose face played a battle of indecision. While he sympathized with his desire to protect Istaria, Jayson felt the same for Calli.
Istaria put a hand to Darius’s cheek and smiled with the warmth of the sun. I’ll fare well with the dragons here. Bring her back to me. I owe her that much.
Darius took her hands in his. “I cannot change your mind?”
The look on her face rebuked him.
“Then I’d do well not to argue.”
After an awkward moment waiting for them, Jayson cleared his throat. “Now we return to our problem. How do we bring her…back to…”
His eyes lifting to the green answer before him. Why had he not thought of it sooner? All these dragons with their magic and strength and it never occurred to him to ask their help. He really had been distracted.
“With respects,” he said to Sethirngal, “what plans had you forthcoming?”
The dragon blinked and shifted its head to peer at him with both eyes.
A wandering mind has found its cause.
You’ve moved forward from journey’s pause.
A smirk stuck to Jayson’s face. “What is your answer?”
The large reptilian eyes looked to Istaria and back.
You, whose purpose I know not,
for the lady’s sake form this plot.
Of noble deed or purest sake,
I will a promise to you make
to give you aid in air or ground
against dark forces all around.
“Thank you.” Jayson turned to Darius, who grinned his understanding.
“We have a means but still are no better. How will he reach her once we’ve located her?” Darius indicated the dragon with a motion of his head.
Jayson paused, visualizing the situation and the possibilities. Every turn ended in futility, until he could see only one way. “He’ll have to break it down.”
The castle?
Darius nodded in response to Istaria’s question. “He’s right. If Calli is as Jayson told, then we two cannot alone carry her. The only way a dragon could reach her is if he destroys the part of the castle where she’s held.”
Plans you’ve made for some rescue
and will to me explain them too?
Sethirngal blew curls of smoke out his nostrils, while watching the humans with keen interest gleaming in his eyes.
Jayson and Darius told him about their plans to find Calli and rescue her from Wynmere, while Sethirngal listened with occasional long rumbles.
They could find her without being detected; all the Sh’lahmar learned one of the most basic tricks of magic. The dragons had used invisibility in the First Realm to travel undetected by mortals for generations while awaiting the resurrection of the white dragon. Except for shapeshifters, who could take other forms to avoid being seen, all creatures of magic could use invisibility with the same ease as mindspeech.
Now that they had the dragon, they could make quick the task and return in plenty of time before the birth of the child. Even Istaria encouraged Darius with those favorable odds.
Sethirngal agreed to fight his way to them once they located Calli. That meant he would have to leave them a distance from the castle, if they wished not to attract attention and save their strength for the hardest task.
When they finished their plans, Jayson left Darius with Istaria and the dragon. He needed distance; time with them wore on his emotions. And, until Calli was safe, he would not rest.
One question came to the forefront as he made preparations to leave—what of Lusiradrol?
__________
Damaera
Damaera stepped carefully down Frendal’s topaz scales and landed in the snow next to Gayleana, who had climbed down ahead of her, and adjusted her bag strap over her shoulder. Together, they stood in cold snow nearly over their fur-lined leather boots, something she never would have had to worry about as queen. She wouldn’t have expected Tahronen to provide them either, but all creatures served the needs of others, she had explained.
She pulled her coat tight around her with a shiver and inhaled deeply, regaining her senses from the long flight through the mountains. Those magnificent spires of nature towered high around them, barricading them from the outside world. In the low point where they stood, the air was thicker, though just as biting as higher above.
The cold sank into her core. Frendal had stayed low, weaving around the ridges reaching for the sky, but it did nothing to warm them. He’d promised they would find suitable comfort in Eyr Droc.
Damaera searched the cliffsides around them. “Where is this gateway? I see nothing but rock.”
Hidden from your sight is the cave
through which we travel and to men gave.
Frendal’s steps crunched and thundered towards a shadow of a rock.
Damaera frowned, wondering if the dragon would brush the boulder aside to reveal it. Instead of stopping or crashing through the mountain, he seemed to pass through solid rock. At one time, she would have thought it impossible. Now, she thought nothing of it.
Frendal’s thunderous steps halted inside and left them in the peace of the small valley and an overwhelming silence in which the soft crunch of steps in the snow rose behind her.
Damaera turned and caught movement in the trees along a ridge behind them. A feline shape disappeared into the shadows.
“What is it?” Gayleana asked.
No matter how hard she looked, Damaera could not find the outline of the cat she glimpsed, or thought she did.
“Nothing. Shadows.” She had no intention of serving the needs of some other predator and turned to enter the cave. Something brushed at the fringes of her awareness through the magic. She looked back, certain that a presence twisted the forces where she thought something watched them. Shivering from the cold air, she hurried after Gayleana.
After the white of outside, the dark of the cavern blinded her. She bumped into her sister. “Pardon me.”
“No need.” Gayleana’s presence moved away.
Damaera followed. As he eyes adjusted, she made out the dark outlines of her sister a step ahead and the dragon leading, though the echo of its steps told her where it walked.
Before she saw the portal described to her by Frendal during their flight, she felt it. Magic swirled in bright colors felt rather than seen with her eyes, inviting her forward to a faint glimmer of light around a bend.
They rounded a bed of the cavern, and, like a slice through a large version of an orb of seeing, the gateway showed life in a warm, green world beyond. The Damaera longed to feel the sun on her face again, and gladly followed the dragon into the Second Realm.
On the other side, the warmth of spring stole away her chill. She pulled off her hood and mittens and turned her face to the glow of a late day sun. Her insides melted away the chill from their flight. After a last shiver, she unfastened her coat and pulled it off to soak up the heat.
“So beautiful!”
The wonder in Gayleana’s voice brought a smi
le to Damaera. She could have said it no better.
Frendal let out a booming roar.
Damaera’s heart jumped from her chest, and she nearly dropped her coat. Replying calls carried back. One came loud and clear from over the rise of a hill.
In seconds, a long green head crested in spikes rose over the hill. The dragon’s body followed with two men beside it, although they could pass beneath the moving green mound without ducking. They emerged from over the hill and slowed their steps.
She recognized both from Tahronen’s orb. These were the ones Tahronen called the Sh’lahmar, the men who protected the girls she considered daughters.
The overwhelming gratitude in her heart sent her to meet them. All courtly manners evaporated in the moment of overwhelming joy. Before they could speak, she stretched up to kiss Darius’s smooth cheek. “That’s for loving Istaria.”
She moved aside and repeated her greeting to the one called Jayson. “That’s for helping Calli.”
His brow showed the same puzzlement as Darius.
Before tears threatened, she backed away. Her eyes burned, but she wiped them dry and swallowed the lump in her throat. “I could not ask for better company for them.”
“My lady?”
Straightening her poise, Damaera fixed her eyes on the one called Jayson. She might have preferred Calli and Phelan at one time together; but, since learning of the ancient legends and their reawakening, she accepted that Jayson could better protect Calli. Phelan had the potential but knew nothing.
She could only hope Phelan was alive. Tahronen had shown him to her more than a moon cycle earlier, when he was in the care of the Caveshi, the plains people of Rivonia. She had seen nothing since then, but wished he survived. Having him returned to her safely was all she could ask.
“Forgive my ignorance,” Jayson said with a slight bow. “Though we know your station by your robes, we know not your names. Who have we the honor of…such a generous greeting?”
Gayleana stepped forward and lifted her chin with a pride that surprised Damaera. “I am Gayleana, fourth level priestess of the Lumathir. This—” She turned her head to Damaera a moment before looking back at them. “This is the Lady Damaera Isolder of Cavatar.”
Legends Page 23
