by Megg Jensen
They wandered beyond the rocky shoreline onto a grassy plain. A hill stood in the distance. All was quiet. Not even the trees made a noise as the wind passed through their leaves. It was as if silence ruled the island.
Jarrett felt a tap on his shoulder. Bastian pointed at Connor, who had squatted and was holding something in his hand. Jarrett ran to him, dropping to the ground next to Connor. He held a single shard from a dragon's egg. Blue and spotted.
Jarrett looked at Connor. He hadn't seen the eggs and needed confirmation that this was what they were looking for. Connor nodded, concern on his face.
Jarrett stood and motioned to Bastian and Elinor. "Look for more," he said, pointing at the ground.
The group scoured the area, looking under moss and leaves, stepping carefully.
"Over here!" Connor yelled from a copse of trees. "No! Oh no!" He disappeared behind the trunks.
His wails attracted not just his friends, but also the sentries. They buzzed around in the air, all four together, heading straight toward the copse. Jarrett ran as fast as he could, arriving the same time as the sentries.
An egg sat in the middle of the ring of trees, smashed beyond recognition. A tiny dragon baby's body lay still, limbs ripped off and scattered in the leaves. Connor rocked back and forth on his heels. "No! This is my fault for not protecting them."
Elinor pushed past Jarrett, wrapping her arms around Connor. "I'm so sorry," she said, over and over. She rubbed his back. "It's okay. We'll find the rest. They'll be fine."
Connor’s eyes burned. "We need to move. Now!" He locked eyes with the four sentries. "This is what we are looking for, you bastards. If you know where the rest are, show me now!"
The sentries formed a circle, their eyes darting, almost as if they were speaking a secret language. Then they buzzed around in a circle until crashing into each other. Jarrett ducked, covering his head with his arms. He glanced through the space between his arms then slowly lowered them. The four balls had merged, becoming one. It zipped off to the north.
"I'm following it," Connor said, taking off in a run.
Jarrett shrugged. "Might as well. We have no other leads."
Elinor ran next to him, her words catching in her throat. She coughed and tried again. "I want to come back and bury that baby."
"Of course," Jarrett said. He took off in a sprint, leaving her and Bastian behind. The sentries were moving too fast. Connor's agitation was growing. Jarrett recognized the tension. He'd seen it in many dragons. They tried to fight their nature, to maintain discipline over their human forms, but any form of anxiety or anger could push them past any ability to control it.
If the Keepers had killed the baby dragon, they wouldn't hesitate to do the same to Connor if he came too close. The sentries looked back at Connor and Jarrett, then sped up. Too fast. Jarrett knew they'd never keep up.
Apparently so did Connor. His arms and legs began to tremble. Jarrett thanked the gods that Connor hadn't fully mastered his dragon form yet. Jarrett reached deep for one last burst of strength. He jumped, grabbing Connor's arms. The two tumbled onto the ground, bouncing over the dirt. Jarrett looked up. The sentries were so far gone he could barely see them in the distance. At least he knew where they were headed. To the hill.
Connor swung at Jarrett, his fist meeting Jarrett's chin with a solid blow. Jarrett hauled off, his arm like a hammer as it connected with Connor's gut.
Bastian yanked Jarrett off Connor. "What are you doing?" the redhead screamed.
"Stopping him from making a huge mistake," Jarrett said. He didn't fight against Bastian's grip. There was no point. He'd done what he'd set out to do. Connor's body wasn't shaking. The transformation had been interrupted.
Connor stood, wrapping his arms around his middle. "Let him go. If what he says is true about the Keepers and dragons, Jarrett probably just saved all of our lives."
"He was trying to change," Elinor explained.
Bastian released his grip. Jarrett shrugged his shoulders, allowing the blood to flow back into his limbs. Bastian was strong, there was no doubt in Jarrett's mind about that. He was glad they were on the same side.
"The sentries headed toward the hill. That is where we will find whoever controls them." Jarrett wiped the dirt and grass off the bottom of his boots. "We need to head there now, before darkness falls."
"Let's go." Connor held out a hand to Jarrett. "And I'm sorry. Thank you for tackling me."
"Any time." Jarrett wanted to smile, but the situation was too grim. He steeled himself for whatever lay ahead.
Chapter Fifteen
Jarrett's feet hurt. He'd done little but fight and travel since he left his home in Risos to join the Black Guard. He couldn't remember how long it had been. He wasn't even sure if he'd missed his birthday. He could be twenty-two now and not know it. Someday he'd get home and look at one of the calendars in the great hall. When the world was quiet again.
The others didn't appear to be holding up much better. Connor's shoulders were hunched over, his hair falling in his eyes. Bastian and Elinor slogged along behind them, her cloak hanging askew, his sword dangling and bumping against his legs as he walked. They were all exhausted.
"Perhaps we should stop for the night. Let’s set up camp and carry on in the morning," Jarrett suggested, walking to a thick grouping of trees. It was the most defensible place he could see.
"No." Connor stood up a little straighter and pushed his hair back. "I can't stop searching."
"What good will it be if you find the eggs, only to have to fight for them? You couldn't. Not in this state," Jarrett said.
Bastian nodded. Elinor simply sank to the ground, curling up in her cloak.
"I think we're in agreement," Bastian said. He dropped his pack and pulled out his cloak, spreading it on the ground next to Elinor. "Who wants to keep first watch?"
Jarrett knew if something attacked them in the night, it would be best for Connor and Bastian to be refreshed. Elinor was already asleep, her chest rising and falling with even breaths.
"I will." Jarrett laid his cloak on the ground and sat down, arms on his knees. The sun sank quickly, ushering in cool night air. The sky twinkled with an uncountable number of stars. The last time he'd taken a good look at the sky, the horde of Black dragons had flown in to save them in Malum. Tonight the world was calm, except for the uncertain fate that awaited them on this island.
Finding the smashed egg had not only been devastating, it was also unsettling. Who, or what, had taken the time to dismember the poor thing? It was only a hatchling. A baby. It wouldn't have hurt anyone.
A branch snapped, breaking the quiet night. Jarrett sat still, closing his eyes and letting his sense of hearing take over. He took measured breaths, not making a sound. Another snap. Closer this time. And another.
Jarrett sprang to his feet, drawing his sword. The snaps retreated. He followed on light feet toward the sounds that drew him farther from his friends and closer to the mountain. He stopped, looking back at his friends. They were still safe. He hesitated, unsure whether he should continue to follow the sound or go back to his post.
The noise stopped. Perhaps it had been only a nocturnal animal looking for its dinner. Jarrett took one last look at the hill. He squinted. There was something halfway up. A light of some kind, flickering in the dark night. So there were inhabitants in the hill as he'd suspected.
Jarrett sheathed his sword. Tomorrow they'd venture to the hill and find out who, or what, had sent the sentries to them.
Before he could take a step back toward camp, something wrapped around his shoulders and covered his mouth. He fought, but the grip was stronger than any he'd ever experienced. Struggling only made the squeezing tighter. His chest ached as he fought for each breath. Jarrett was forced to stop struggling. Whatever held him dragged Jarrett away from the camp, his heels digging into the ground, leaving a rut.
His captor’s arm was covered in black. He couldn't see the hand to know if it was human or some pervert
ed creation like the kilrothgi. The creature said nothing. It didn’t even snarl. Only its extraordinary strength made Jarrett increasingly certain it wasn’t human.
Time marched on, and so did the creature, dragging Jarrett. The stars moved in the sky, and the distance from his friends grew, but otherwise nothing changed in the silent night. He'd stopped digging his heels into the ground. It was tearing at his muscles, straining them so bad he feared he wouldn't be able to walk. He forced himself to relax, and waited for his chance to escape.
Suddenly, they stopped moving.
"Stand." The voice was commanding through a rocky growl.
Jarrett did as he was told, staggering to support his own weight as it let go of him.
"Turn."
Jarrett faced something shrouded in a black cloak. The hood hid its face. Even the starlight wasn't enough to give him a glimpse.
"Follow."
Jarrett looked over his shoulder, back at the distant forest where his friends lay sleeping.
"Now or die."
Jarrett followed its stilted path into the hill through a doorway hidden by a curtain of vines. His curiosity propelled him forward even more than his fear. The creature sported a limp, dragging one foot behind it. And yet it had the strength to heave Jarrett from their camp to the hill. He marveled at the thing, eager to get a good look at it.
They stopped at another doorway. "Enter," it said.
The door swung open, a bright light spilling into the crude hallway. Jarrett blinked, adjusting to the light after so much time in the darkness.
"Come, come. I will not hurt you," a voice said inside.
Jarrett strode in, trying to look confident despite his exhaustion and trepidation. "I am—”
"I know who you are Jarrett of Risos. I have foreseen your coming."
A wrinkled old man sat in the corner on a wide expanse of pillows. Stringy hair fell from his head to his waist. His rheumy eyes glazed over as smoke billowed in front of his face. Jarrett took a deep sniff. Drougeweed. A strong hallucinogenic reserved only for the highest mages.
"Join me, Jarrett." The old man stretched out a bony arm with flesh that looked as though it might drip off, gesturing toward another set of pillows. "Have a taste of my drougeweed."
Jarrett looked back at the doorway, still guarded by the thing in the black cloak. In the light he could make out a bit of its face. Cracked stone outlined a mouth and one eye. A golem, a servant sculpted from the very rocks of the earth. Jarrett had heard of them, but never seen one. Another relic of myth.
"Are you a Keeper?" he asked the old man, settling into the pillows. The drougeweed tickled his nose, the sweet aroma intoxicating.
"I am. I have been waiting for you a very long time. I am pleased you finally set foot on my island. The others have long since passed. I am the only one left."
"Why have you been waiting for me?" Jarrett asked, his emotions mixed. He was intrigued, but at the same time a deep-seated fear took root.
"Calm yourself, or I cannot read you properly. Your thoughts cannot be a jumble." The old man pulled back his hair, showing Jarrett a head with no ears. "I cannot hear as others do. I must listen to your thoughts. Now quiet!" He reached out, slapping Jarrett hard across the cheek.
Jarrett's cheek stung. So did his pride.
"I have been waiting for you," the old man said after taking three deep breaths, "because I need a successor. You are my successor."
Jarrett's head began to spin, the sweet herb floating into his nose and permeating his body. He relaxed, even though his mind screamed at him to fight back.
"Stump," the old man said, looking at the golem. "Bring me the knives."
The golem, Stump, stalked to a table. With his massive stone hands, he grabbed two dirty, rusted knives. Dragging one foot, he made his way over to his master and handed him the knives.
The Keeper leaned in closer to Jarrett, sharpening the blades against each other. Flecks of rust flew in the air landing on Jarrett's hands. Panic filled Jarrett's chest, but his body had weakened. He’d lost the use of his arms and legs. The old man leaned in closer, brandishing a knife on each side of Jarrett's head.
"Now hold still. This will only hurt for an eternity!" Spittle flew from his lips, riding on his insane laughter, as he sliced Jarrett's ears from his pliant head.
Chapter Sixteen
The Keeper's face swam in a haze. Red waves surrounded his toothy smile, and green goo dripped from his nostrils. Jarrett wished he'd seen that when he first walked in. He might have realized the old man wasn't just burning the drougeweed. He was snorting ground-up weed in his nostrils.
Jarrett never realized how powerful the hallucinogen could be until experiencing it for himself. The pain from losing his ears was negligible. Even more surprising, he hardly cared. In the absence of pain, he found the whole experience enlightening.
He'd always wanted to learn magic. Now he was in the presence of someone who could teach him the magic he'd been too afraid to pursue. There was nothing he wanted more.
Yet something tickled at the back of his mind. A woman. A flash of skin. Moaning. He struggled to remember but could not.
No matter. This was all he'd ever wanted.
"How do you feel?" the Keeper asked.
His lips moved, but Jarrett didn't hear the Keeper with his ears. Instead, the words formed in his mind, almost as if it were his own thought—but in the Keeper's voice.
"I feel..." He didn't know how to describe the power coursing through him.
The Keeper laughed, spittle again spraying from his lips. "Yes, it is how I once felt as well. You will come to love it here as I do. Stump will serve you faithfully after I pass on. You will protect our island and its secrets."
Secrets. Another tickling at the back of his mind. Dragons.
Dragons!
"There are dragons on the island, Keeper! We must destroy them!" Jarrett remembered the dismembered baby dragon.
"I know, my son." The Keeper patted him on the shoulder. "I, too, saw the dead dragon. My sentries showed me the body, and then I saw you. It was then I knew my successor had finally arrived. You will prove your worth to me by seeking out the rest of the dragon eggs and killing them. I will tell you where the man hides with them."
Jarrett bowed. "Thank you, Keeper. I will prove my loyalty to you by completing this task. I will bring you the bodies of the remaining dragons."
The Keeper's thin tongue licked his lips. "It's been so long since I had dragon flesh. I will await your quick return. Now, go back to your friends. Use them to fight the mage and take the dragon eggs."
"But my ears," Jarrett said. "They will know."
The Keeper closed his eyes and chanted under his breath. Jarrett felt a tingling on his head. His eyes closed, and his body relaxed.
A hand on his shoulder startled Jarrett. His eyes snapped open.
"You fell asleep," Bastian said, "but all appears to be okay. I'll take the next watch. Get some good sleep."
Jarrett looked around, confused. "Where am I?"
Bastian laughed quietly. "You really were in deep sleep. We're on the Isle of Repose. We're looking for the dragon eggs, remember?"
Jarrett's eyes searched the starlit ground. There were no footprints heading off in the direction of the hill. His hands searched his head, quickly finding his ears. He let out a long sigh of relief. It was just a dream.
Guilt poured over him. "I'm so sorry I fell asleep."
"It's okay," Bastian said, settling down next to Jarrett. "We were all exhausted. And we're fine. No one was dragged away in the dark of the night."
Jarrett let out an uncomfortable laugh. "Yeah, it appears so. Thank you." He stood, wiping the dirt off his pants.
Jarrett made his way into the copse and saw Elinor and Connor sound asleep on the ground. Jarrett spread his cloak between them and lay down. He hoped there wouldn't be any more nightmares.
***
"Wake up, Jarrett." Elinor shook his shoulder. "We need to get
moving."
Jarrett sat up, shrugging off the hard night's sleep. He felt like he'd been sleeping for years, but he wasn't refreshed. Elinor handed him a piece of jerky and a hunk of bread. He ate both and washed them down with his water. He pushed the cork into the water skin and slung it over his shoulder. It was too light. They'd need to stop at the first freshwater source.
"We should head for the hill," Connor said. "See if we can find those sentries."
"No," Jarrett said, surprising everyone, including himself. "I think we should go east. I was thinking about it last night. The hill is the most obvious place to hide. Would Malachi really head there? He is devious. We should look in the least likely place first."
Elinor nodded in agreement. "My father would hide in the last place anyone would think of first. It's a sound plan."
The weary group hiked eastward as the sun climbed into the sky. The ground showed no sign of anyone passing by, much less one man with ten dragon eggs. They stopped for a midday snack at a pond teeming with fish. Connor and Bastian caught a few, which they roasted over a small fire.
After the sun hit its zenith and began its way back to the horizon, Jarrett felt another bit of inspiration. "Over there," he said, pointing at a mass of rocks. "He's there."
Bastian looked at Jarrett, then back at the rocks. "I don't see anything."
Connor and Elinor looked at Jarrett expectantly.
"I don't know," Jarrett said, shaking his head. "Something tells me he's hiding there." He wished he knew what that mysterious something was. He'd always trusted his instincts, but this was something different, as if someone was whispering in his ear, telling him where to go.
"Let's look," Elinor said. "It can't hurt."
They drew their swords, Elinor behind them and unarmed. She was only there to heal, not to fight. By her own admission, she had no experience in fighting, nor did she want to tempt fate by trying.
Jarrett took the lead, his sword in front of him, his hands steady and sure. Calm infused his being. He rarely walked into a potential battle so filled with peace. He rounded the boulders and gasped.
