Amusement played on the man’s lips but dared not escape. The guard gave a nod and turned to another with him.
Vahrik left them to their doubts. When Jayson and Darius tried to escape over melting snow, these fools would understand.
Furious, he looked out to the forest. A large section of snow crunched nearby, as if something heavy settled onto it. Vahrik leaned on the balustrade to study the phenomenon as several of the guards murmured amongst themselves. He noted seven patches of crushed snow throughout the clearing. All bore the same telltale signs of an almost serpentine form with a great bulge in the middle and odd marks in a couple places on the outside.
“Been like this for a few days now,” one of the men said.
From nothing, a small whirl of smoke drifted up.
Vahrik stiffened from the realization of what lied outside his door. He turned around to the keep crushed beneath the dragon’s weight. Its image formed in his mind, and he compared what he recalled of the dragon’s size to the size of the odd snow indentations. Had they the power of invisibility also?
A sinister laugh carried over the breeze to him, chilling his core.
Dragons! More precisely, her dragons, the fearsome red ones his men reported seeing. Why had she sent them? How many watched him? What did she want?
Bad enough Darius and Jayson than her beasts.
Lusiradrol used him. The thought drove him mad with fury, and he drew his sword. Without consideration, he drove it into the chest of the nearest guard.
The man sputtered. The others hushed their whispers but dared not aid him.
Vahrik ignored them, seeing only the death of those who sought to destroy him. He trusted no one.
__________
Jayson
Jayson peered outside through a slit in the shutters. He needed no sight to feel their effect on the magic. The dragons formed a barrier around the castle, and their mistress lingered somewhere nearby. The depressions in the snow confirmed it.
Now he knew the real reason Makleor had chosen the tower. They could see everything. “We’ll need more than parlor tricks and one large dragon to escape.” Jayson turned from the window to the others.
Gaispar sat near the fire with Darius, helping him sit up to eat while he recovered through his weakness. The wounds had been healed, but a night of rest would do more to aid his full recovery.
Both looked up. Darius said nothing, but his face showed the concern for Istaria and his desire to hurry back to her. Gaispar looked up with a measured gaze.
“Sethirngal should know.” Jayson met her eyes when he spoke.
One eyebrow lifted on her attractive face. “He will be one step ahead.”
He expected that. Now, he hoped the others also knew. Only an army of dragons would get them out of this. “Then we wait.”
__________
Istaria
In the cool of early morning, Istaria stood on the soft grass in her bare feet. Her shoes pinched her feet too much for comfort. Never would she have dared in her old life to walk bare foot—no matter her discomfort—for fear of her mother’s wrath for improper behavior. But this was a different world and she was no longer a princess, her mother no longer queen. They missed the luxuries, but the need for the many amenities they had in the palace faded with time.
Yet people still served them, caring for their basic needs. For that she was grateful. She knew not how to cook or clean or sew. She could not live without the support of others.
Istaria took a deep breath of the cool morning air and tilted her head back to watch the dragons glide high above. A few hundred dragons called Eyr Droc home. Of those, Gayleana had gathered twenty-two volunteers to join her in rescuing Darius and the others.
“Istaria!”
She followed the direction of the voice to her mother and frowned. Now what was wrong?
Damaera strode toward her with purpose in each stride. Like Istaria, the former queen had forsaken the fancy dresses for basic fabrics meant more for cover than fashion; but Damaera Isolder could be mistaken for nothing less than royalty.
Damaera dropped her eyes to Istaria’s bare feet and shook her head in disdain, but said nothing. “You should not wander far when your time is so near.”
The house is close enough. In truth, Istaria had stopped on the hill across the stream, or about a third of the way to the portal. Or was that why her mother worried, that she might pursue the others to rescue Darius?
Be assured, mother, that I’ve no intention of leaving this place. Despite her words and Darius’s warning, the temptation remained.
Damaera veiled her worry with a smile while her eyes betrayed her. “As you carried on about Darius, I fear your heart may overwhelm your head, my dear.”
The talk of the one she loved more than her own life stirred the longing in her heart for his arms around her. To ease the burden, she hugged her mother close with her bulging bellow between them.
“They will return.” Damaera spoke with a confidence Istaria knew her mother could not feel. Her mother hid her emotions well, though she embraced her with the same love in her arms as she had when Istaria was a child.
Keeping her voice low, Damaera spoke into Istaria’s ear. “Stay away from Galen.”
I know.
“He seems to care but his words are cheap.”
He feels odd, Istaria said. The magic twisted around him in conflict. She could not identify why but it made her leery, no matter how congenial he tried to be.
“I agree.” Damaera stepped away from the embrace and set one hand on Istaria’s belly. “Please return.”
Istaria smiled and placed her hands over her mother’s, moving it to where the baby kicked at the moment. At a tightening around her middle, she grimaced and clutched her mother’s hand.
“The contractions,” Damaera said. “I feel it. As it was for me. You will know when the time comes.”
When the tightening of the muscles around her belly softened away, Istaria took a deep breath and let it out. In response, the baby threw a fit inside her.
I need to rest. Although she tried not to think of her friends, since it made the contractions stronger, she could not help herself. Her fear of losing Darius made it worse yet.
With her mother accompanying her, she enjoyed the cool grass beneath her feet on the walk back to the house.
Inside the house, Istaria headed for the kitchen. The aching and burning in her chest caused almost as much discomfort as the child kicking around. Eating frequently throughout the day helped relieve it.
At the kitchen door she hesitated. The disturbing twist of magic lingered beyond; Galen sat on the other side. Istaria looked back at her mother, who took a deep breath before nodding her head.
With her teeth clenched, Istaria pushed the door open.
“A fine morning to you, ladies.” Galen’s smile displayed more sincerity than she had ever seen from him. Either he practiced his act or he actually was happy to see them.
“Why do you stay?” The harshness of Damaera’s tone lashed like a whip, but Galen never flinched.
He met Damaera’s gaze with steady resolve. “I can leave, but—” He paused and moved his eyes to Istaria. “I can help keep you from leaving.”
His words and actions mystified Istaria. What was his purpose? If Tyrkam had sent him to take her back, why would he insist she stay there? For what other reason was he there if not for Tyrkam?
Why did the dragons allow him to stay? They could easily dispose of him or toss him back to the First Realm.
“If you wish both, I can make a den near the portal.”
Istaria swore he should have vaporized from the look her mother gave. “I’ll have none of it! You’re bad enough slinking about as you do.”
“There’s your answer.” Galen lifted his mug for a swallow of tea with all the confidence that he had won the argument. When he finished, he left his empty mug on the table and rose to his feet. “Good day, ladies,” he said and brushed past. He transformed in s
econds to the black cat form he seemed to prefer.
“Foul beast.” Her mother swore under her breath.
Istaria turned to her as she calmed, her shoulders dropping. At least he left.
Damaera smiled but said nothing.
I need food.
* * *
Istaria gazed out the tall window of her upper level bedroom, barefoot on the cold floor. The crescent moon rose above the forest outside, casting a faint light over that realm. She ran her fingers through her long cascade of white hair turned silver in the moonlight.
Her thoughts drifted back to the cave where the dragon spirit had found her. Her life would have run a different course if not for her finding the heart as a child and awakening its keeper. The spirit protected her, however, and granted her a greater power than that which she inherited from her mother. Its intention had been to return to the world. No one had suspected he intended to be born human.
Her child would not be as any other child growing up. He would carry the burden of the world on his small shoulders.
But he would still be hers and Darius’s child. That would never change. Only his spirit remained of the dragon.
For a change, the child was calm inside her, but her thoughts were troubled. Gayleana had left with the dragons days ago. With all luck they would reach Wynmere soon, being close to the mountains with the dragons moving swiftly. Istaria hoped they succeeded in bringing home Darius and Calli without losing anyone.
A familiar presence approaching made her tense. Despite his words, he often watched her. She wished Darius would return and banish Galen from that realm. Her mother dared not send him away, afraid of what he might bring back. “Keep your enemies close,” she said. “And you’ll stay alert.”
Leave me!
A spike of magic behind her warned her of his change. She glanced over her shoulder at the tall, dark man standing in the doorway.
I said, ‘Leave!’
“Forgive me, my lady.” The creak of the floorboards warned her of his step forward. “I wished to speak to you in private.”
Istaria whirled. She knew not what games he played, but he would not enter her chambers without her mother present.
He stopped inside the doorway.
Can you not hear me?
The wan moonlight highlighted his thin smile. “The moonlight becomes you, the sun more so.”
Her thoughts jumbled at his words. Did he compliment her? No; it mattered not. Flattery will gain you nothing, Mister Galen. Despite trying to sound angry, she could not.
“Darius knows not what he has. I’ve never set my eyes on as lovely an image.” He made no move that she considered threatening.
Rather, he confused her. Darius knows exactly what I am. He never fails to tell me how he loves me. Her eyes stung as images floated through her mind of the man she loved. She longed for his touch, his company. He left for my sake, that I would not. He went to rescue my friend. Everyone has placed me above themselves. Not only Darius, but Calli, my brother—
In her private thoughts, she pictured Phelan. She wished he could join them too. He had always cared for her, despite the many jests. But he was gone.
Tears flowed down her cheeks.
You have no place here! All the frustration of her heart flared. Get out! Get out of this house! Get out of this realm! I want no more of your ‘kind’ words!
She shoved him back.
As she did, a contraction cramped from her back around her sides to her belly. She grabbed the doorframe for support as the pain seized her in its grasp and stole her breath.
“My lady—”
She shoved away his hand. Leave me alone! She grit her teeth as the worst came for what seemed an eternity.
In the midst of it, her mother’s voice broke through, followed by the patter of feet. “Istaria!”
Gentle arms supported her.
Istaria looked up, breathing deeply the way Darius had taught her to soothe pain.
Her mother’s concern turned to rage at the man a step away. “You! What have you done?”
She missed his answer, but the pain faded, yielding to her relief. When it was gone, she stood upright, cursing Galen with a glare. She had the satisfaction of seeing him grimace slightly.
“Look what you’ve done!” Her mother understood.
The glimpse Istaria caught of his face, before her mother ushered her into the room and shut the door, haunted her afterwards. She swore a grin touched his lips. Was this a game to him?
“What was he doing?” Damaera’s worried tone matched the contours of her face. Anger hardened her eyes. She brushed her hand over the cool tear streak on Istaria’s cheek.
“Did he say something? Did he do something?”
Istaria shook her head and pulled her mother’s hand away from her cheek. I hate him! She buried her face in her mother’s shoulder. The tears started anew.
“I wish they would hurry back.” Damaera set the candle on the dresser near the door and directed Istaria to the bed. “For now, I think it best if you lie down and try to sleep. Tomorrow will come too soon.”
Istaria sat down and eased herself onto the bed while the child wiggled inside her.
Damaera sat on the edge of the bed, a frown on her face as she put a hand to the bulge. Istaria knew the look, the concern of something inevitable. She laid back, letting her head sink into the pillow.
“That contraction was not like the others. I saw that much on your face.” She met Istaria’s eyes, her throat flashing with a swallow.
Had her mother said what she thought, that this was the beginning of her labor? She put her hand over her mother’s and squeezed it, afraid of the truth. How could she be ready for this now and with Darius in danger?
Damaera smiled and kissed her forehead. When she stood back, she pulled the covers up to Istaria’s shoulders the same way she had as a child. Istaria could not imagine not having her mother there at that time, when she needed her most.
Gratitude welled up inside her, pushing aside her fears. Thank you for staying. She grabbed her mother’s hand and held it tight.
“I’m glad to be here, for you and him.” Her eyes flicked to the bulge beneath the covers a second before she leaned down and kissed her forehead.
“Rest now. Sleep while you can.”
Her mother’s gentle caress smoothed her hair away, and she took the candle with her, leaving the room dark.
Istaria passed a hand over her belly as the thrill of holding her child and the fear of the unknown clashed within her.
After a last glance of the moonlit room, she rolled onto her side and tried to sleep.
__________
Tahronen
Tahronen stood amid the skeletons of trees barren from winter’s edge. The remaining snow reflected the pale light of a full moon rising at the horizon. Spring was on its way, creeping over the land in a stealthy attack on the cold, resting season.
And the Lumathir had a new leader to guide them.
She adjusted the hood of her heavy mantle to block a bitter breeze gusting through the trees. It carried with it the voices of men, a large number of men. Through the flow of magic, she found them not far ahead. Why would an army be out in this cold? What would drive them to Wynmere Castle?
Through her meditations, she knew of Vahrik’s takeover, but magic flowed about these men with a purpose. Not any magic, she realized, but one close to her heart. Tahronen dropped her eyes. Would he ever learn? Would they ever learn?
The men of the Second Race never learned. Even sons and fathers could not see through their own greed and sought to destroy one another. And her own child was involved. She could not interfere, though. He had made his decision.
She walked over the snow and ice as if no heavier than air. The Darklord tampered with their creation to turn men against the Light.
Yet by corrupting them with the desire for power and the ability to kill even a friend, he aided their growth, something the Majera had not foreseen. Many of the Sec
ond Race overcame their faults to grow stronger or let their passions drive them to unlimited heights of accomplishment. The same passions drove men to fight for freedom and champion the rights of those less fortunate. They were stronger than the First Race in many ways, yet weaker in others.
A gentle smile found its way to her face. Despite the imperfections, the Second Race had succeeded beyond the expectations of the Majera to thrive. Perhaps that was what attracted her to the few she claimed as lovers in the last age of the world. So much time had passed while raising her descendants and teaching them to follow the Light that she forgot them, could not remember their names even.
But the past was gone. Only Makleor, as he had chosen to call himself after his shame, remained of her direct children, the result of her last affair. He had more than suffered for his faults and knew it. The child of Istaria and Darius would release him from his penance when the work was complete. Tahronen would mourn his passing as she had the others, but he would always be with her and perhaps her most beloved.
If they succeeded in banishing Lusiradrol and her true dark spirit for good, a new age would begin; hopefully one in which the races could coexist in peace.
Lost in her thoughts, time passed in a blink for her. She found herself at the edge of the forest, gazing on the looming fortress of stone across the clearing. Lights flickered from a few windows, but most of the castle was dark, an ominous shadow blotting the landscape. If her vision proved correct, it likely would not last long.
As she expected, the Red Clan filled the clearing, most of them sleeping, but a couple sitting up as sentries. Crossing the clearing would not be possible. They would feel her presence, whether she tried to mask it or not, and probably already noticed her.
To one such as her, the situation posed no trouble, but she wished not to alert anyone of her presence. Makleor’s tower would be the best place to hide.
He would have protections in place, whether he was there or not. She could not tell if he was there through the strong spell, but suspected he was with Tyrkam in Setheadroc since he used his magic for Tyrkam’s benefit.
Legends Page 30
