Surprise washed away the puzzlement on their faces, replaced a second later by smiles of recognition that soothed the tension.
Mother?
The voice stole their eyes from the men. The appearance of a head of silvery white hair choked her on instant tears. The white cascade flowed loose over shoulders and a belly of impending childbirth. Istaria no longer wore her veil to cover her face. Tahronen had said Istaria had learned to control the forces that made her eyes glow on occasion. The veil had hidden such outbursts in the days since she was found in the caverns beneath the orchard. Among the dragons she was accepted and honored.
Istaria rushed forward, one hand supporting her protruding belly.
Damaera gazed on the woman before her so different from the child she remembered. Words escaped her jumbled thoughts. Nearly a year had passed since she last saw her daughter; a year of agony and death. In all that time, she had longed to see her youngest child again.
Shedding the poise and dignity of her status, she rushed forward and wrapped her arms around her little girl. Tears streamed down her cheeks in torrents.
“Istaria.” Finally, after all that time, she had part of her family back.
Mother. Istaria held onto her, sniffing. They embraced for a lifetime of memories to pass through Damaera, until the moment caught up and they stood back, facing reality.
Damaera wiped her eyes and caught the motion of Istaria’s hand over her bulging middle, her expectant grandchild. Reality slowly sunk into her mind. This would be her grandchild. She was going to be a grandmother. Grandmother…
She looked up to a smile on Istaria’s face.
Here. Istaria grabbed Damaera’s hand and put it to the side of her belly. She held her palm in the same place for several seconds before a well-aimed jab bumped her hand.
Damaera smiled and looked up. In that moment, she flashed back to when she carried the child before her and nearly choked on the memories. “Has it been so long?”
“Excuse us, ladies.” Jayson’s voice broke the spell of memories.
Darius leaned close and kissed Istaria’s cheek. “I’ll see you again soon.”
The men passed them with the dragon and disappeared through the portal.
I’ll explain everything. Istaria hooked her arm in Damaera’s and led her over the hill.
__________
Shadow
Shadow grew restless. The sun dipped behind the mountain peaks. Worse than the men was the arrival of the women. Based on their presence in the magic, they must be Lumathir. That meant Tahronen sent them.
Had they come to join the men or the princess?
One of the women had noticed him or at least looked his way. He was eating a quick meal when the dragon arrived and could not hide in time to avoid being seen. Did the woman know he was more than a normal mountain cat? The dragon must have noticed, but why did he not react?
The prospects bothered Shadow. Either they thought him no threat or knew what he was and considered him a friend.
The frustration gnawed at him while waiting for some to leave—they could not possibly all be staying—but he’d found ways to dispel some of the frustration. The hunting gave him an outlet, tearing the flesh of the animal he caught relieved him, but he needed action.
They had to come out soon if they intended to rescue the one called Calli, the one Lusiradrol imprisoned. The look on Jayson’s face had said it all—he would not give her up to Lusiradrol or anyone.
Shadow remembered Jayson after seeing him closer. He was one of Haiberuk’s council. He had indeed been trained as Son’tal, as Shadow suspected.
Magic stirred from the cavern. The surge of power told him a dragon emerged, its presence almost shielding the others with him.
Shadow crouched down behind the rocks and brush. The men he despised more than any others emerged with the green dragon and climbed onto its back.
As the giant dragon stretched its wings, a small green creature darted into view. It stirred the forces of magic little more than any ordinary creature. Almost as an afterthought, it circled around the dragon and landed on one of the spines along its back.
Shadow studied it in fascination. It squawked like a bird at the men but mostly it sat in silence, its gaze fixed on them. By the expression on the faces of the men, the creature must have spoke in mindspeech to them. Then it could use some magic.
He could use that to hide among such creatures and mask his presence.
After a couple minutes, the dragon let out a rumbling sigh and shifted in readiness for flight. The small creature bent over, grasping another spine with its wings to stay balanced; or, rather, with tiny claws on its wings.
Though magic allowed no one to take a dragon form, he could take the form of this lesser, dragon-like creature.
Shadow waited for the dragon and men to leave with the smaller creature close behind. Once they vanished over the nearest peak, he concentrated on the shape of the small creature and the presence he’d detected in the magic surrounding it, that presence that allowed him to transform into a perfect copy. In seconds, he perched on the ridge. The cold bit at his bare, leathery skin.
To escape the cold and continue his mission, he glided down into the cavern.
__________
Makleor
Makleor turned to Gaispar resting on his shoulder, his ears on the conversation between Tyrkam and Dorjan. They knew not that he hid in the room, invisible in the shadows. Soon we can all rest, my dear. Before that day comes, much will be asked of you, of all of us.
“Vahrik is hasty and foolish.” Tyrkam balled the fingers of his right hand into a fist before him, his back to the crackling fire and his scowl on the grizzly, red-haired warrior who sat in a chair at the table. “But Lusiradrol is no one’s fool.” He ground out the words
“These beasts of hers complicate matters,” Dorjan said.
Tyrkam fixed a cold glare on his lieutenant. “She plays all sides. I play her game for games of my own. I will not play for Vahrik.”
Makleor smiled. Of foulest plans she has for all that you’ve some understanding now. Tyrkam would not fall to her trap, or he intended not, which meant he had learned from his previous dealings with her. Impressive. Perhaps he was not as foolish as expected.
Dorjan rubbed the stubble on his chin, his eyes on the fire. “When do you wish to move against him?”
Tyrkam unclenched his fist and leaned over the mantle of the fireplace. “Too soon he’ll expect. Too late he’ll have time to make other plans.”
Gaispar stirred from her slumber, shifting on his shoulder. Since collapsing on the stack of books in his tower in Wynmere Castle, she’d slept much of the time there and through the portal which he’d used to bring her to Setheadroc.
Welcome back. Tiny claws pricked through Makleor’s robes as she shifted her position. You’ve not missed much.
Not with these two. We know already Lusiradrol works both sides against one another. Has Tyrkam revealed a purpose?
Makleor shook his head. He’s not told his lieutenant of the shapeshifter. A man of secrets, I know, not of the least considerations of his head; nor is he blind.
“…No more than two cycles. By then I’ll have a full regiment ready to retake any territory he claims.”
Dorjan nodded agreement. “Norwell?”
“He’ll leave no one alive.”
Makleor remembered the name, though the face of the Captain escaped his memory. No matter. In less than two cycles, if his calculations were correct based on Gaispar’s description, Istaria would hold her child.
“What of the lost heir?” Dorjan asked.
“Farolkavin had enough time.” Tyrkam gnashed his teeth on the words with a ferocity surprising Makleor. The hate in the man’s eyes implied more than he let on.
A sly smile crept to Makleor’s lips. He had first met Tyrkam many years ago, when his “army” numbered barely a thousand. Where he came from, no one knew, but his training was better than most ordinary soldiers. He
possessed the spirit of a warrior and the charisma of a leader. Bandits and young men were drawn to him like vultures to carrion.
The dragons had foretold Tyrkam’s involvement with the one chosen to carry the spirit of the white dragon. For that reason, they asked that he, Makleor, keep watch on the man.
Eager for the return of the white dragon, Makleor had carried out their wishes and met the dark-complexioned man with a warning and a show of senility. When Tyrkam ignored the warning and found himself in trouble, Makleor proved his power by “accidentally” helping amid a fake act of confusion.
From that moment, Tyrkam made use of his skills, which Makleor provided with limitations. His false senility kept the warlord cautious of an accident of magic but confident in his ability to outwit the mage who aided him.
In the years since that first meeting, Tyrkam had never spoken of the Sovereign of Rivonia, nor displayed any indication of having any contact with the long-time ally of Cavatar. But then, Tyrkam never discussed his past prior to gaining a following in the small western kingdom of Laranthen, which he conquered with few more than a thousand men. The malice in his tone when he spoke of Farolkavin piqued Makleor’s curiosity.
He hates this person, Gaispar said.
I agree. Why might that be? Makleor had seen much in his lifetime, but most of it had focused on watching for the chosen one and keeping watch of Setheadroc. Could Tyrkam have come from the tribes of the Caveshan Plains or Rivonia itself? The implications sparked a host of suspicions about the man’s origins.
“He sent no response to your message?” Dorjan asked.
Tyrkam’s eyes fixed on a point beyond the room. His face pinched with the tension of some memory only he knew.
Makleor gripped his staff tighter as he studied the deep lines of the warlord’s face and the subtle shifts of his brow. Curious.
Gaispar said nothing but let out a sigh.
After several long seconds of silence, Dorjan shifted his feet. “My lord.”
Tyrkam blinked away the daze and focused on him.
“Has he responded to your demand for Phelan Isolder?”
“No more than I expected. Nothing. He’ll shelter the fool until he can send his army to defeat me.” A menacing smirk lifted the corners of his mouth, and he leaned over the table in the center of the room. “We’ll be ready for that day.”
“We’ve not taken the largest port city. Candro maintains shipping with Rivonia.”
Tyrkam growled. “We need to cut off their access to the sea and the support that comes by that route. Rivonia is not Cavatar’s only ally.”
Makleor ignored the rest of the conversation about politics and strategies. His interests settled back on Vahrik and Lusiradrol. What deal had Vahrik made with her? She made some arrangement with Tyrkam to send the shapeshifter to Istaria. Had she also cornered Vahrik into creating a second plan?
I have another favor to ask of you, he told Gaispar.
She shifted on his shoulder.
Go to Wynmere and keep an eye on Vahrik. I need to know what agreement he has with Lusiradrol. For ill I know, but whose? I’ve a mind she intends to use him for her foul interests.
You wish me to leave now?
He shook his head. Rest. The flight is long. You’ll not get far until you’ve recovered.
Her weary gratitude touched him through the colors of magic. He smiled and shifted his feet. When Tyrkam left, he would follow. With luck, the warlord would reveal a few pieces of his game, or maybe his origins. There must have been a connection there, something he had kept hidden all these years about his true purpose for seeking power over Cavatar. Learning about who he really was and where he’d come from might answer the question of why he really sought the white dragon’s power.
__________
Jayson
Jayson shivered in the chill air, despite the sun at their backs, and the land passed as a white blur far beneath them. The steady flap of the dragon’s wings carried them closer to what had become Tyrkam’s territory for at least a couple of years.
Behind him, Darius shifted with more restlessness than Jayson felt.
May fate favor us that you may return to them, Jayson silently prayed. A trace of guilt slithered through his heart since leaving the security of Eyr Droc. He deserved not to take Darius from Istaria at this crucial time, but Darius was the only one he knew who might understand and help him.
Ironic. Jayson kept his thoughts private. Not long ago I listened to your every word, watched your every move, lest you hint of the vault. Never would you, but such was my duty, made easy by your loyalty. Now you are the one to help me. Haiberuk indicated before he disappeared that he, Jayson, was the last of the elite guards in that realm. Jayson assumed that excluded Darius, who by then dwelt in the Second Realm.
That meant the only other Son’tal away from the vault was deceased, along with his charge. Only upon the death of his charge could he have given up his duty otherwise. He must have died honorably, knowing both took the secret to their graves. But had he?
Something still bothered Jayson about the shapeshifter who had followed to Eyr Droc. He knew something, but the memory had grown old and faded, shoved aside for greater concerns.
If only another had survived the revival of the Red Clan. Regrets climbed into his consciousness that he had led Lusiradrol to them, but he could have done nothing to stop her.
Neither could he have stopped Lusiradrol from taking Calli.
His heart chilled at the thought. Jayson shut his eyes but saw her face as if she stood before him. The last expression of her eyes had been horror.
The thought washed away with the breeze as Sethirngal angled down to barren trees. A familiarity of the landscape brought back memories of the wyvern’s attack on Calli and the others.
The forest of Wynmere. Based on their agreement, Sethirngal would leave them to travel the rest of the distance on foot. Those in the castle would not notice them coming, giving them a chance to enter and find Calli. That precision would give the dragon a chance to get in and out without digging through debris and weapons.
Jayson hoped to avoid Lusiradrol.
Sethirngal steadied his decent by his wings beating against the air to slow his fall and landed with barely a thud.
We have reached the enchanted trees
protected by those who bless the leaves.
They will hide you with their skill,
to rescue her of fate’s ill will.
Sethirngal laid his head to the ground and stretched out a front claw as a ramp.
Jayson climbed off with Darius close behind and stepped back to face the dragon. “Thank you.”
Call me when you find your love,
and we shall race the clouds above
to join the lady fair and mild
to be there when comes the child.
Darius bowed to Sethirngal. “With all speed.”
Sethirngal blinked intelligent eyes and took flight. Both men rushed away from the wind beating down on them.
He climbed into the air and headed west. After the green dragon shrank into the sky, Jayson turned to Darius, noting the brown stubble covering his jaw. His own didn’t feel much better, but trimming it back could wait for another time.
“The shrouded valley?” The few times the dragons appeared to men, they did so in a valley shrouded in mist, or—more precisely—the dragon’s smoke. With fewer sightings until recent years, the rumors of ages past had transformed into legends almost forgotten by most mortals. But the dragons still used it.
“More than likely.”
Jayson gazed through the trees. Without a wind to chill him, he noticed the warmth in the air. An early spring approached, despite Lusiradrol’s storm. She had not slowed the natural patterns.
She would not slow them. Soon they would reach Calli. Something inside him was confident they would succeed.
“Never a journey started that did not require a first step.”
Darius chuckled. “As you say,
Master.”
A slight tingle swept up Jayson’s core at the jest. Haiberuk often used such truths in his teachings, but he had not intended to sound like the master. Jayson smirked and stepped through the melting snow crunching beneath their boots. Calli would never understand as Darius did. The jest touched a familiar place in his memories that comforted his mind from the losses.
They traveled invisible, though their tracks would betray them in unblemished snow. Once they reached the road winding through the forest, they could travel undisclosed, their tracks blending with others.
Jayson altered his usual spell to hide his presence and also shielded Darius. Though it required the other man to stay within a certain range, it granted them enough distance for a comfortable personal space. It would not fully hide them from Lusiradrol, if she lingered, as she had been able to track him other times; but at least it would dim their presences to embers instead of a full fire in the dark.
They said little by day, each of them lost in his own thoughts, and nothing at night. Within two days after leaving the dragon, they found the road.
A few days later, they spied the old town of Thealon from a distant hill. Timber and plaster buildings surrounded the town well, the taller structures shrinking to shacks on the north. A light snow floated down on a gentle breeze, coating the town in white.
“We can stay with Hlynn’s family.”
“They were always good to you.”
Darius turned with one eyebrow raised. “What of my life had you not known.”
“Trust me when I say you’re better off not knowing.” Jayson’s job had been to monitor Darius’s every move and word. Now was not the time to discuss exactly what that had entailed.
Before Darius could speak, Jayson started down the road. He hoped Darius never asked again, if only to save him the embarrassment of telling him any personal details.
Only a few travelers passed them on their journey, though no one knew of their presence. A supply wagon driven by a sharp-eyed man with a scowl on his lips and accompanied by two riders passed them on the way to town. That was the last eve before dusk. With all luck, they would encounter no one else after the snow fell to hide the muddle of tracks on the road.
Legends Page 24
