But they needed help escaping. More than a dozen of the Red Clan patrolled the area with more hidden in the ravine behind the castle. Only by hitching a ride on one of Vahrik’s men had she found her way inside.
Lusiradrol must have expected this to have called so many to the castle.
Gaispar swore silently and scurried through cracks and crevices in the stones. She neared Darius; his presence grew stronger.
But he was not alone. Two guards stood watch nearby.
They would be no problem if she could avoid being seen. With all luck, Jayson would join her.
The men stood in the armor of Tyrkam’s army with the dragon upon their chestplates, one hand on the hilts of their swords and the other on their spears, their eyes alert.
Gaispar hurried to sneak behind the nearest.
“Nafrî.” The familiar whisper came from above. Both guards collapsed to the floor. She scrambled to avoid being crushed beneath them and slipped into the door, which opened for her.
Jayson, she called, averting her eyes after catching a glimpse of the wall where Darius was chained.
The door closed with the snick of the catch. A second later, he dropped his spell and stood before her, his eyes fixed on Darius.
Gaispar stepped back and focused on her natural form.
Jayson turned from the scene displayed. He said nothing, but his ashen face revealed the horror.
She could not help but to turn to Darius shackled against the wall with his arms and legs splayed out. He stood naked against the cold stones, slash marks across his chest and limbs, his face purple and blotched. Blood caked where the wounds ran deepest; but a fresh, glimmering trail ran down between his legs.
With all that she had seen in more than three hundred years, Gaispar thought she could handle the image before her. Despite her best efforts, she ducked into a corner of the room and gave into the desire to heave her stomach’s contents.
Warm hands massaged her shoulders. “Stay here,” he said, the words murmured through his teeth as if he fought back the same urge to vomit.
Behind her, the chains fell away, clanking against the stones. The shuffle of fabric and the faint slap of flesh made her squeeze her eyes shut. When the noise and her nausea subsided, she dared to look.
Jayson wrapped the bedraggled form in his cloak upon the floor. “He’s alive.”
Gaispar nodded. Good, but how long would he live?
He bent over Darius with a hand on the still form. For a second another image, one of glowing beauty, enveloped Jayson. He lifted his hand away from Darius as if uncertain, then set it fully on him.
As if washed in the purest of water by the radiance emanating from Jayson, she found an inner peace. It rushed through her in a heartbeat and faded. When it vanished, her heart sank through the hollow spot inside her. She wished it had lasted even a second longer.
Jayson sat back and examined his hands.
Gaispar took a few steps to stand over the men and noted the slow and steady breathing from Darius’s still body.
Jayson looked up at her, his brow furrowed. “I think I healed him.” His tone questioned her but she could only shrug. “But someone else…” His voice trailed off and he shook his head. A second later, he scooped up Darius in his arms with a grunt.
“Where will you take him?” she asked.
“The tower.”
She flashed a smile before he vanished with Darius from her senses. She would meet them in Makleor’s tower. Although she could not break the wards surrounding it, Jayson probably could.
Hopefully Lusiradrol departed and would not interfere further, but Gaispar had a bad feeling the woman lurked nearby, watching and waiting like a cat preparing to pounce.
__________
Istaria
“You must stay here.” Gayleana stood with Damaera between the portal and Istaria.
On the hill, where she could see the cave on the other side of the portal to the First Realm, Istaria pouted with her arms crossed. She longed to save Darius as he had saved her, but Gayleana’s insistence and her mother’s firm stance forbid her to leave the Second Realm. Another vision of Darius appeared to her, this one gruesome and heart-wrenching. She could not stand by and watch him suffer.
Damaera shook her head, her eyes pleading for Istaria to stay. “Did he not warn you of the danger?”
Her teeth clenched on her objections, Istaria nodded. Darius’s warning had thrown on a heavy coat of guilt. She placed both hands on her belly as the child poked and prodded from within. To keep one she loved she had to give up another.
It’s not fair! Tears filled her eyes to soothe the burning.
Muscles tightened around her middle as had happened for the last few moon cycles. Her mother assured her she would know when real contractions started, but with her worries of late, the false contractions increased, giving her one more worry to carry.
Gayleana rubbed her back, calming her. “I’ll go.”
No.
“I’ll take as many dragons as will join me. We’ll free them, and soon Darius will be here again.”
How she prayed Gayle would win! But Lusiradrol…Mother—
Damaera focused on her sister. “You’re certain?”
“What else can we do to keep her from going?”
Damaera grimaced but nodded. “You’re right.”
Istaria breathed a little easier, but she feared losing her aunt and Darius. She wished someone else could help them, but no one could. It had to be this way.
I will never forget your kindness. She wiped the moisture from her eyes and hugged her aunt in gratitude and dread of never seeing her again.
In some ways she was glad they stopped her; yet she knew she had the power to free her friends, more power than all the others combined. She had the power of Gilthiel, the white dragon, at her disposal and the knowledge of the Majera. That was the reason she had to stay.
After a last glance at the portal through which her poor Darius suffered, Istaria let out a sigh and led the women back to the house.
Along the way, she glanced up at the dragons perched upon the crystal palace floating in the sky. Sunlight shimmered off their scales and broke into rainbows across the surface of the palace. They would gladly leave. Many of the younger adult drakes had expressed their anxiety to help rid the First Realm of the Red Clan and their leader. The five Elders told them to wait.
The time for them to act had finally come. They would have their chance.
As the women crossed the bridge over the narrow stream, a blur zipped past. Istaria recognized the green winged creature the size of a hawk as one of the drakin.
When it circled back and landed on the rail of the bridge, the familiar ripples in the magic made them all stop.
Jaren. What news have you? Seeing the drakin who had been taking news and messages between realms lightened her heart. She could only hope that he would bring better news than the visions.
He tilted his head in a birdlike pose and squawked. I bid you well, Lady. The others say a stranger arrived. I wish to meet him, to offer my greeting, if you’ve not an objection; though they said to watch him for harming you. Before your man friends left, Sethirngal bade me watch the area for trouble. He takes not kindly to distractions, like the crankarn blossoms when they are in full and a tasty treat my brothers and sisters—
Istaria put up a hand to stop him from another long story. Another time, Jaren. We know of the stranger. He revealed himself. At the approach of heavy steps, she looked up. Galen’s imposing form stopped at the end of the bridge over the stream.
Startled, Jaren squeaked and fluttered up to her shoulder. Tiny claws pricked through her dress, clutching to her for balance.
I not like him, Lady. He is…wrong.
Then Jaren sensed it too. Jaren had not been around when they discussed the stranger and so was not influenced by their words. His reaction came purely from instinct, and she trusted it.
She would like to return to the crystal palace
and the books kept by the Unnamed One, although it was too dangerous in her current state, especially since it meant dragon riding to reach it and return. What would it say about Galen?
Galen made no attempt to smile, but his face remained neutral. The shadow of something hidden hung over his visage. He would reveal himself sooner or later, of that she was certain. He could not hide his true purpose forever. Jaren’s reaction confirmed it was not only her.
“Pardon my interruption, ladies.” A hint of menace lurked behind the tone of his voice. His eyes jumped from one to another before fixing on the drakin. “You must be the one called Jaren.”
Jaren clawed his way behind her head and hissed at the man like a cat cornered with its hair on end.
Istaria untangled the tiny wing claws from her braided hair and stroked his back to soothe him. Help me keep a watch on him, she told the drakin in private.
Of course, I will. No harm from him will come to you.
With a smile, Istaria patted his head.
Of Galen, she asked, What need have you?
Amusement tugged at the corners of his mouth and added a calculating glint to his eyes. “I thought I might warn you, my lady, to leave the men. Set one foot through the portal and Lusiradrol shall have what she most desires—that child.”
His words made her eyes burn. Once more she was reminded of the role of the child and her helplessness. He was right in what he said, but her heart ached for Darius.
Tears blurred her eyes. Say not such things! They will return.
The contraction stirred by her anger tightened around her, and she gripped her belly. Gentle hands rushed to help her.
“Istaria.” Gayleana helped her stay balanced with an arm secure around her shoulders. “Worry not or this child will come too early. You must relax.”
“Leave us!” The reprimanding tone of her mother’s voice was directed at the man.
He bowed his head. “Forgive me. I wished not to see her in the hands of that dragon. I thought I could—”
“You’ve made things worse, Galen. Leave her!” The biting tone of Damaera’s voice made the man flinch as if he’d been stricken.
With the easing of the contraction, Istaria stood upright again in all her regal poise; though she was no match for her mother. Almost twenty-five years as a queen had taught Damaera Isolder how to give commands with only a look. Her mother had stood up to men whose presence inspired fear. For that Istaria admired her mother more than she would ever know.
Istaria smiled to Gayleana, who let go. Thank you.
Her aunt stepped back and frowned at the upright tail of the black cat bounding into the forest. “He had no right.”
Istaria swallowed and caressed her belly as the child tumbled and bumped around inside her. Whether she liked it or not, Galen was right. But why did he warn her? If he was there on Tyrkam’s orders, why would he wish to keep her there, where she was safe?
The black cat vanished into the trees.
“What is he after?”
Istaria turned to her mother, who gazed after the cat’s disappearance.
“I’ve no liking of him,” Gayleana said with a hint of caution. “Istaria…You’d best lie down and rest and try to forget your troubles. We’ll bring them back alive. You have my promise as a Lumathir, and as your aunt.”
Istaria smiled her gratitude. She could not have asked for better people to help her through these troubling times.
__________
Tahronen
Three red bodies drove sharp claws into the scales of a blue blur more than twice the size of any of the red. The echoing howl rattled through her with sorrow as the beasts plummeted from the sky.
“High Priestess.”
Startled, Tahronen sucked in a deep breath. The horrible images of death faded, but their shadows on her emotions lingered.
A nudge on her shoulder and the voice made her look up to one of the teaching priestesses, a Nonathrea îrna. Tira’s rounded face and skin tone darker than any Ayrulean identified her immediately as a native from Rivonia. She had come from the Ancient city of Narethal on the Rivon continent as an exchange of understanding between the Ayrulean and Caveshan cultures. Concern overshadowed the woman’s visage.
“You screamed.”
Images from the vision drifted before Tahronen’s eyes as a shadow over the woman before her. She smiled to reassure her student and patted the hand on her shoulder. “A vision only.”
“Danger it seems. Was it the nekreth?”
Tahronen shook her head, reflecting on the variety of images that had ended in the death of one of the elder drakes. She would almost prefer facing the nekreth than seeing death of one of their children. “The dragons.”
She considered all their creations to be children. It made no difference whether she gave birth to them or not, although the magi, as her direct descendants, would always have a special place in her heart.
“We’re ready.” Tira spoke with conviction, but she had spent a hundred years teaching with the Lumathir and was one of the strongest.
“That will not be necessary.” The others were not ready like Tira. They knew not how to fight.
From the formation of both the Darklord and the Majera, both sides built up armies to fight their battles. Where had it all gone wrong?
Haiberuk. An image flashed by that she had barely noticed during the vision. She saw him at Wynmere, side by side with the Sh’lahmar he trained. His presence was insubstantial, as if he hid, but she would recognize him anywhere. He was a part of her as she was of him with the other third of the Trinity.
Why hide? Had it been a means to fool Lusiradrol, so he could travel undisclosed? What other purpose had he?
Tahronen frowned. If the Majera were whole, they would have full connection to the Universe and all its forces. The answers would be clear. But that was not their fate; the force that created them had split them for a reason they knew not.
Perhaps the time came to face Lusiradrol and her clan, for Tahronen to aid her brother and his remaining Sh’lahmar in their battle. But why did they fight? What had happened to lead to that vision? That he would not expose himself in the face of such a foe meant he waited. The child also had not appeared in her vision as it had previously. The events in this most recent vision would happen soon, before Gilthiel came into his power.
She looked up to Tira in her maroon robes. The priestess would not leave until directed to.
“Bring the others to my chambers.” Tahronen rose to her feet from the soft pillows, knowing the priestess understood she meant to call a council meeting.
She would not allow Lusiradrol to take the lives of the noble dragons. She would protect her family like any mother did. That trait she had given them.
The women under her tutelage would do well without her. She would choose a successor for this group as she had with the other groups around the world. Though she wished she could aid their training all the time, she had focused too long on the Euramai group. The nearness to the white dragon’s resting place and the dormant nekreth made that location the most important, until now.
Tira nodded and hurried away to carry out the request. As Haiberuk had his Council of Seven made up of his Sonthenîel talri, so she also had a council. The Council of Marnonathrea îrna was composed of those who mentored and guided the younger acolytes. Most trained at least ninety years with a few centuries to live yet. All wore the maroon robes of the highest level of training.
The sorrow of the vision faded with the distraction of recalling each of the teachers with their strengths and weaknesses. She had a successor to choose. Her time to leave them had come.
__________
Vahrik
Vahrik stomped down the corridors, four of his guards following close behind and wary of his temper. He’d lost the one called Jayson but could blame no one but the sorceress. While he could not lash out against her, lest he risk his own life, he could pound it out on others
That’s what Darius was for.
It mattered not what Lusiradrol wanted. The woodsman made an easy target, and one he despised.
When he emerged around the corner to where the two guards should have been watching the door to where he left Darius, his rage boiled over.
No one guarded the lower room.
“Out of my way!” Vahrik barged through the door, sending it swinging on its hinges to slam into the wall on the other side.
The dim light through the windows highlighted empty shackles hanging on the bloody wall.
Damn you! If he ever found this Jayson he would complete his torture on him. It had to be him. Who else had the power and the incentive to release Darius? Jayson had disappeared before his eyes.
He whirled on two of his guards who stepped inside with him. “Find them!”
“M’lord,” one of the men said and rushed out. The other followed at his heels.
Fuming at the loss, Vahrik marched into the corridor behind them. Finding the men would likely prove useless, particularly if they had the power to make themselves invisible. Why did Lusiradrol let this happen? Why had she not stopped them from escaping? Did he not need at least Darius to lure the princess there?
The hurried steps of the guards vanished down the corridor, leaving only the echo of his steps and the murmur of distant voices.
Incompetent! How many of the men under his command were loyal yet to Tyrkam and sought to undermine him?
Perhaps he made his move too soon. Patience was not his strength. He wanted power and he wanted it before Tyrkam could steal it away. Tyrkam would do it in a matter of time. His father was good at that, and with Dorjan gone to report to the overlord, Vahrik could expect trouble soon. He should never have trusted Lusiradrol.
His feet carried him outside, into the crisp air of late winter. A hint of spring touched the cool with a warmth that left the yard a sloppy mess. He sloshed through the mud toward the gate tower, ignoring the gazes of the servants, who hurried to avoid him.
Grinding his teeth on his frustrations, Vahrik climbed the stairs to the upper walk. At the top, he entered the tower and grabbed the nearest guard. “Keep an eye out for footprints that make themselves. We’ve thieves in the castle using magic.”
Legends Page 29
