Battle Mage
Page 8
He slowed as he approached the gully through which the summoning party had passed. The steep-sided valley led to the far side of the mountain where the accessible slopes gave way to the dramatic crags and precipitous cliffs of Mont Noir’s western face.
The minutes passed and it was not just the exertion of the climb that made Falco’s heart beat so wildly. It was the fact that he was drawing close to the dragon stone, that great slab of black granite from which the battle mages of Caer Dour had always summoned their dragons.
He moved cautiously now. Up ahead the path cut through a landscape of jagged boulders and huge slabs of stone. The jumble of rocks marked the highest part of the climb and beyond them he would be able to look down into the Castle of the Winds, a natural amphitheatre of fractured cliffs surrounding the dragon stone.
Falco tried to calm his breathing as the path wound its way between the enormous monoliths. The air took on a cavernous quality, exaggerating the quietest sounds until even the light shuffling of his feet seemed to echo loudly around him. Just a few more yards and he should be able to see the dragon stone itself. He was just rounding a great buttress of rock when he felt the edge of a steel blade at his throat.
‘Don’t move!’
Falco froze, his heart thumping loudly in his chest.
The stern words had been spoken at his ear, so close that he could feel the speaker’s breath on his neck.
‘What is your business here?’
Falco did not answer at first. He was still recovering from the shock. He had heard nothing. The speaker had simply appeared out of nowhere behind him.
‘Well?’
The pressure of the knife increased a fraction against Falco’s skin.
‘I just wanted to see,’ he said.
‘No one is permitted on the mountain during a summoning,’ said the speaker and now Falco recognised the emissary’s voice. ‘You of all people should know that, Falco Danté.’
Falco let out a relieved sigh as the emissary removed his knife and pressed him back against the rock.
‘What were you thinking?’
‘I just wanted to see,’ repeated Falco quietly. He could not bring himself to meet the emissary’s eyes.
There followed a moment’s silence and Falco’s eyes flicked up to the emissary’s face. The fingers of his hand still rested against Falco’s chest but now he was looking up at the sky, trying to gauge how much time was left before sunset. A robed figure suddenly appeared beside him and Falco found himself looking into the shining black eyes of Meredith Saker.
Meredith showed every promise of following in his father’s footsteps. Or at least he would have done had he been more convinced of the path that lay before him. He had his father’s intelligence and his father’s gift for scholarship. He had his father’s strong features and shining black hair, but unlike his father, Meredith’s black eyes shone as if his thoughts reflected what he saw in the world instead of drawing all things into the lightless depths of his mind. And yet, despite the more moderate aspects of his nature, Meredith still possessed his father’s ability to convey scorn with nothing more than a look.
‘There is no time to take him down,’ he said. ‘And I would not trust him to go of his own accord.’
‘We cannot interrupt the summoning,’ said the emissary.
‘No,’ agreed Meredith, looking at Falco as if he were nothing more than a foolish child.
‘And we cannot leave him in plain sight.’
Meredith paused for a moment in thought.
‘We shall take him with us,’ he said.
‘Are you sure?’ asked the emissary. ‘You would need to conceal all three of us.’
Falco had no idea what the emissary was talking about, but Meredith simply nodded.
‘Come,’ he said. ‘We do not have much time.’
The emissary removed his hand from Falco’s chest.
‘You stand where you are told to stand,’ he said and the look in his eyes made it clear that Falco would be wise to do exactly as he was told. ‘You do not move. You do not make a sound.’
Suitably intimidated Falco managed a tight nod of concurrence.
With a final disparaging look Meredith turned and continued down the path while the emissary stood back, inviting Falco to go next.
The disturbing echoes continued as they entered the Castle of the Winds. Rising up around them the cliffs formed a great semicircle, a natural auditorium that opened out to the west where the sun was just beginning to sink beneath the ceiling of the low clouds that stretched almost to the horizon.
At the base of this great arena was a flat expanse of rock some forty feet in diameter. Roughly circular it looked like a single slab of polished stone, an altar or a stage, maybe. But this was not a place built by men, it was a place formed by the mindless forces of nature. Yet even the architects of Wrath could not have conceived a more fitting place from which to summon a dragon.
This was not the first time that Falco had entered the Castle of the Winds and now, as before, he was entranced by the harsh beauty of the place.
‘Down here,’ urged Meredith when Falco failed to follow him.
‘That ledge,’ said the emissary, pointing over Falco’s shoulder. ‘There, in the lee of the cliff.’
Falco nodded and worked his way along a channel in the rock before clambering over a series of dark granite blocks.
The ledge on which they now stood was one of many that rose up around the walls of the ‘amphitheatre’, but theirs was set back to one side, a place to watch the proceedings, but not a place from which to take part.
Looking down from the ledge Falco could see Darius standing at the centre of the dragon stone. He was now fully clad in the dark, enchanted armour of a battle mage. He stood with his sword and shield held ready but with his head bowed as if he were listening.
From Darius, Falco’s gaze moved up the surrounding cliffs. And there they were, the seven magi, each one occupying a broad rocky ledge positioned evenly about the Castle of the Winds, each one standing with their heads bowed in concentration and their arms held rigid by their sides, their hands spread, the fingers tensed as if with some intangible effort.
‘They look strange,’ said Falco as his eyes moved from one ledge to the next.
‘What do?’ asked the emissary coming to stand beside him.
‘The magi. They look veiled, somehow, as if they are cast in shadow.’
‘You can see them?’ asked the emissary as Meredith came to stand with them.
‘Can’t you?’ asked Falco.
The emissary shook his head with a frown.
‘Can you?’ Falco asked Meredith.
‘If I concentrate,’ said Meredith, looking at Falco with a strange searching expression in his eyes. ‘What about my father?’ he asked. ‘Do you see him too?’
‘The shadow about him seems darker,’ said Falco, turning back to the rising walls of stone. ‘But yes, he is there in the centre, directly above Darius.’
He pointed in the direction but the two men just continued to look at him. The emissary seemed concerned while Meredith looked as if he were trying to figure out what this meant. As the light of the setting sun suddenly fell upon them, it was the emissary who broke the unsettled mood.
‘Quickly,’ he said. ‘It’s almost time.’
Falco looked out to the west where the sun had now dropped below the ceiling of low cloud. It was a deep yellow colour and the dark rocks of the Castle of the Winds now appeared to be edged with gold.
‘Come away from the edge,’ said Meredith. Again there was that note of disapproval, but his tone was somehow less condescending than it had been before.
The three men came together behind a spur of rock that extended out from the cliffs behind them. It formed a low wall over which they now looked west. The sun was deepening in colour as it sank towards the horizon and now, just as it had lit up the rocks of the mountain, it set the clouds aglow with ridges of bright, luminescent orange.
‘He is casting a cloak of concealment,’ said the emissary in answer to the question in Falco’s eyes. ‘Should a dragon appear, it will be unaware of our presence.’
Falco looked back at Meredith. He was surprised by the speed with which the apprentice mage had cast his spell. He turned to the emissary.
‘I thought it took the magi ages to cast their spells,’ he whispered.
Everyone knew that one of the differences between a mage and a battle mage was the speed with which they cast their spells. The magi were capable of powerful magic, but their preparation could take hours, days or weeks - little use in the frenzied chaos of a battle. By contrast, the power of a battle mage could be unleashed with the speed of thought.
The emissary arched an eyebrow as if he were surprised at how quickly Falco had forgotten the instruction to be silent. But then his expression softened.
‘He started preparing the spell at sunrise,’ he said.
‘Ah...’ breathed Falco, almost apologetically.
‘It is no easy thing to conceal yourself from a dragon,’ said the emissary. ‘Not to mention you and I.’
Meredith suddenly opened his eyes and turned towards them.
‘It is time,’ he said.
The orange disk of the sun began to disappear below the horizon of distant mountain peaks and Darius moved to the edge of the dragon stone. Below him was a sheer drop of a thousand feet. It was as if he stood on the edge of the world and Falco looked on in awe.
Darius lowered his sword and shield to his side then he bowed his head and...
Boom!
Falco felt a sudden compression of the air and in his mind he heard a sound like a mighty clap of thunder.
Once... twice... three times the subsonic boom reverberated around the Castle of the Winds before travelling out across the world. Darius waited until the last of the silent echoes had died away and then he raised his head and retreated to the centre of the dragon stone to wait.
‘How do they know?’ asked Falco, hardly realising that he had spoken his thoughts out loud.
‘Who?’ asked the emissary in a whispered voice.
‘The dragons,’ said Falco. ‘How do they know to come here at the precise time of the summoning?’
The emissary just looked at him.
‘They live beyond the Endless Sea,’ whispered Falco. ‘How can they possibly get here so quickly?’
It was Meredith who answered him.
‘No one knows,’ he said. ‘Some say that the call goes out long before the actual act of summoning, at the time of the battle mage’s birth or the moment at which they recognise the true nature of their calling.’ Looking down at Darius he paused. ‘But how they come to be here at the very hour of the summoning... no one knows.’
Falco looked across at Meredith. It was clear that this was not the first time he had pondered this question.
‘What do you believe?’ he asked.
Meredith looked at him suddenly as if Falco were trying to trick him into speaking his mind. He glanced at the emissary before answering.
‘I believe...’ he said, as if he wanted to make it clear that this was only his opinion, ‘that it has something to do with the dragon’s memory.’
Falco frowned in puzzlement.
‘How can they remember something that hasn’t happened?’
Meredith lowered his gaze.
‘I do not know,’ he replied awkwardly.
The emissary looked at Meredith before turning to Falco.
‘Only the most senior magi are permitted the study of dragonkind. Is that not so, Lord Saker?’
Falco noticed that the emissary used the title normally reserved for fully fledged magi.
‘It is easy to be seduced,’ said Meredith. He spoke as if he were repeating what he had been taught, but it was clear that he had a strong sense of fascination for the creatures that dwell beyond the Endless Sea.
‘We need the dragons,’ said the emissary quietly. ‘But the magi believe it is dangerous to forge too deep a bond. As far as they are concerned, all we need to know is how best to use them, and how to kill them when they turn against us.’
The emissary’s tone betrayed what he thought of this ignoble attitude but Falco was no longer listening. He stood beside them, staring into space. There was an intense expression on his face and unmistakable fear in his gaze. He was turned to the west and the red light of the setting sun was reflected in his eyes.
‘Something is coming!’ he said.
Meredith and the emissary followed his gaze into the glowing band of light on the horizon, but they saw nothing. The sun was no longer visible and the low clouds had begun to glow pink.
The emissary looked down at Darius and sure enough, he too seemed to have sensed something. The tension in the Castle of the Winds soared and they could all imagine the mounting energy held tight in the grasp of the gathered magi. This was the moment that they had hoped for, the moment they had feared. The emissary looked once more at Falco then turned to gaze into the furnace of the sky. At first he saw nothing, but then a tiny speck appeared above the distant horizon.
Beside him, Falco was cleaved to the spot. He was about to come face to face with the creature that had brought about the death of his father. Caer Dour’s battle mage had been successful. The call of Darius Voltario had been answered.
9
The Dragon Stone
They watched as the small dark fleck seemed to hover over the horizon. It did not waver. It did not soar. There was no chance that it was just an eagle or a raven. This was a dragon and it was flying directly towards them. The only question that remained was what colour would it be?
Would it be blue like the steel of Malaki’s armour or swathed in scales of emerald green? It might gleam like gold or burnished bronze or shimmer white like the hardest frost. It might be red like the blood that flows from a vein but not black, please the Fates, let it not be black.
‘It looks dark,’ breathed Meredith.
‘They always look dark against the sky,’ whispered the emissary. ‘We’re seeing it in silhouette.’
Meredith glanced back nervously into the Castle of the Winds, looking for any sign of concern from Darius or the magi. But the battle mage and the magi simply remained tense and still, ready and waiting for whatever it was that now closed upon them.
For the longest time the dark shape seemed to remain the same, but then it began to grow. It grew until they could almost make out its shape; almost see the beating of its mighty wings.
‘It looks dark,’ Meredith said again.
‘Just wait,’ insisted the emissary, but even his voice held a note of uncertainty that had not been there before.
Beside them stood Falco, unmoving, entranced. He could not take his eyes from the approaching shape. As he gazed up at it he began to imagine that he could sense something of its presence. He knew this was impossible, but he could not shake the feeling that something of fury was descending upon them.
The shape seemed to grow higher as it grew closer but still it appeared dark against the glowing clouds.
‘It really does look da...’ the emissary began but Meredith cut him off.
‘Red!’ he gasped with obvious relief. ‘It’s red!’
The emissary glanced at him before looking back at the approaching dragon. It was so big now that they could make out something of its shape, the massive wings beating slowly, the long neck and tail and the solid bulk of its body. The emissary shielded his eyes as he stared up into the sky.
‘Red,’ he echoed with a smile.
Now it was clear to see. The dark shape of the dragon gleamed with the unmistakable sheen of red.
Once again Meredith turned to look into the Castle of the Winds and even from their vantage point he could sense the relief of Darius and the magi. They too could see that the dragon was red. The tension had
gone out of their arms and he could almost sense them letting go of the energy that they had held in readiness for the worst.
A rare smile spread across Meredith’s face as he turned back to the emissary. Smiling in turn the emissary clapped him reassuringly on the shoulder.
‘Black,’ said Falco beside them.
‘No,’ said Meredith. ‘You can clearly see it’s red.’
The apprentice mage looked up at the winged shape that now appeared so close.
‘Black,’ said Falco once more and the certainty in his voice was chilling.
The emissary frowned as the smile on Meredith’s face began to slip. He glanced towards his father and suddenly he noticed how the dark rocks of Mont Noir were shining with the red light of sunset. Quickly he looked back into the sky and sure enough, the red sheen on the dragon’s scales was fading to the deepest shade of night.
Meredith spun round to face Castle of the Winds. He closed his eyes and the heads of seven magi snapped up suddenly to look at him.
‘Black,’ he whispered, speaking quietly across the space between them. ‘The dragon is black!’
Darius and the magi looked up into the sky to see the terrible truth for themselves. With desperate swiftness they tried to re-establish the spells that had started to seep from their grasp. Likewise Meredith reasserted the cloak of concealment around himself and his two companions. They had no way of knowing if they were too late, if the dragon was now aware of the trap that lay in wait for it. All they could do was hold their nerve and hope for the best.
As it descended towards them the hammering of Falco’s heart seemed to slow until it matched the measured beat of the great beast’s wings. Lower it came until it hung in the air before the dragon stone, scornful of the yawning gulf below it. Its black scales shimmered with a dark pearlescent lustre, rippling over the great muscles that moved beneath its skin. Eyes the colour of molten gold stared into the Castle of the Winds, the black slits of its pupils sweeping back and forth as if it knew that something was there, even if it could not see it.