The Godling Staff: Book Three (Dragons of Daegonlot 3)

by Shanlynn Walker

  Dax was brought out from his reverie by a slight feeling of jealousy coming through from Drakthira. I am all of those things, too, you know, she huffed. Dax laughed out loud before answering her, Yes, you are all those things and more, ‘Thira. Nothing compares to you in my book.

  Mollified, the dragon sent a warm wave of affection at Dax, then went back to napping as she normally did after such a large meal. Sylas was snuggled up with her, as usual, but Dax didn’t see Trakon anywhere.

  Where is Trakon? he asked Drakthira before she could sink fully into sleep.

  He went off to meditate, she said drowsily.

  Satisfied, he picked up the rabbits he had brought for their dinner and set about skinning them. Once that was finished, he made a makeshift spit, stretching the carcasses out over the built up fire and turning them slowly so they would cook evenly. He stared into the fire as he turned the spit, reflecting on how good it felt to be back on Daegonlot. Although he was aware he used to be two separate entities, only one of which considered this floating island home, he knew he would always consider Daegonlot his home. To be fair, he thought, the Myste is the last place anything or anyone would want to think of as home.

  He looked over at Sylas and wondered how long the dog could remain away from the Myste. As Malitak he had created an internal system in himself that allowed him to be away from the abyss for a time, but he had a feeling the godling they were currently searching for had had a hand in that as well. He didn’t know exactly what the being had done to him, perhaps it had made the system he had created permanent somehow, or maybe it would have worked anyway. The truth was, he didn’t know. But one thing he did know was that he felt better having the dog around, and wanted to find some way to ensure that Sylas wouldn’t have to return to the Myste. He hoped when they found the godling it would be able to do for Sylas what it had done for him all those years ago.

  Reminiscing about the time when he was a lost little boy in the forest of Daegonlot made him think of Borl and Sikir, his adoptive parents. As always, when he thought of them, he wondered what they would think of him now. He was no longer the Dax they knew, the carefree youth hell-bent on righting an ancient wrong and protecting the wild dragon hatchling in his charge. Now he knew he was much older than either of them, and at least part of him was a predatory creature from the Myste who had been determined to lead a dragon back to its master, who would then steal its magic. Such polar opposites, and the new Dax had ended up somewhere in the middle. He wasn’t sure himself where exactly he had landed on this new spectrum.

  It crossed his mind to never return to see his parents, but he quickly dismissed that thought. He loved and respected them too much to do that. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be a parent and not know what happened to your child, to know only that the child had disappeared one day and never came back. No, Dax wouldn’t put them through that. They might reject this new Dax, but he would at least give them that opportunity. He would tell them what had happened, as much as he himself understood, and let them decide for themselves. If they didn’t accept Dax for who he truly was, at least they would know the truth and avoid spending the rest of their lives worrying over him. He didn’t allow himself to dwell on the hurt and disappointment he would feel if they didn’t accept him.

  Seeing the rabbits were now done, Dax removed them from the spit and laid them to the side to cool. He thought about going in search of Trakon, but hesitated to interrupt his meditations. Hopefully he would come back with some new inspiration as to how to find the elusive godling.

  From the corner of his eye he saw Sylas jump to his feet, dissipate, and soar away a split second before the words “HELP! SYLAS!!” thundered through his mind with such force it felt as though his head was splitting in two. Vaguely he heard ‘Thira roar, the sound reverberating through the ground and causing their surroundings to quake.

  He forced himself to focus through the pain, emitting small tendrils of roiling black smoke to search for Trakon, whose voice he had recognized. Within moments he had found the old man’s body sitting prone a short distance from camp. He teleported to the area and instantly realized that Trakon’s body was here, but his essence was not.

  He placed a hand on the man’s body and teleported them both to Drakthira’s back just as she sprang into the air. Can you find him, ‘Thira?

  Yes, she answered back after a short pause. I can track where the voice came from, and Trakon’s essence is still tied to his body, although barely. I can see it but it’s… hidden somehow. Cloaked. But not for long, she said determinedly. Dax saw small tendrils of smoke curling from her nostrils and understood. Dragonfire could burn through just about anything. He secured Trakon’s body to ‘Thira’s back, then jumped off, becoming dim and soaring through the air above her to stay out of range of her deadly fire.

  Chapter Two

  While all deception requires secrecy, all secrecy is not meant to deceive.

  ~ Sissela Bok

  Trakon regained consciousness slowly, still somewhat disoriented. As the cobwebs in his mind began to clear, he realized he was looking down at the ground from a great distance. Fear that he was falling washed through him, but as he peered to the left he came to understand that he was actually caught in what appeared to be a giant spider web suspended from high in the huge tree.

  Looking all around, Trakon saw no sign of the spider, but he thought it must be huge to have spun a web of this size and strength. He remembered that this part of him was separated from his body and wondered how he came to be caught in a web in the first place. As panic began to set in, he once more speculated on how long he had been gone from his physical self. His body would still be sitting a short distance from the camp, vulnerable… empty.

  Hearing a sound below him and looking down, he saw the angry stickman shaking its little twiggy fist at him while jumping up and down in gross agitation. He tried to turn his awareness toward the sun so he could get an idea of how much time had passed while he was unconscious, but whatever was holding his essence here held him fast. He studied the substance as closely as he could, considering his awkward position, and saw that it wasn’t a physical web as he had first thought, but rather a web composed of slightly glowing strands of magic.

  Trakon no longer heard the stickman hopping below him, and realized everything had gone very quiet. He dared to glance downward once more, and to his dismay he noticed the stickman was very still, staring upward and to the right of Trakon. Turning his head to see the object of the stickman’s attention, dread coursed through him. Coming towards Trakon was a huge spider that seemed to be made of the same pasty substance as the web which held him. He could see its ethereal mandibles working, preparing for the meal it was about to receive.

  The webbing shook slightly as the spider stepped onto the first strand, the disturbance heightening Trakon’s fear to new levels. Every detail seemed clear, and he could make out the bristly hairs on the spider’s legs as well as the absence of life in each of the eight eyes. Its fat, luminescent body gave off a dim, green light and Trakon was able to see through the bulbous abdomen.

  All too soon he felt the creature’s leg brush against him. He struggled as hard as he could, but for all his effort, he only managed to become more entrenched within the webbing. He wished himself to be back in his body so he could at least shut his eyes against the terrible visage of the hungry spider about to feed on his essence. He thought of his friends, Dax and Drakthira, and his ever faithful companion, Sylas, and hoped they would be able to complete the quest they had set out to do without him.

  Just as his hope was completely diminished, Sylas suddenly materialized on top of the spider, in full attack. His canine paws clung to the creature’s sides, and his massive jaws bore down on the apex between its abdomen and head. The spider shrieked hideously in pain, trying to turn and face its attacker, but the dog’s weight overcame any effort the spider attempted. Sylas gave a final, savage twist with his jaws and the spider’s head was now dangli
ng by a scrap of skin and mucous. The shrieking abruptly ceased and Sylas jumped clear just as the body of the arachnid fell from the tree to land with a sickening thump on the ground below.

  Relief washed through Trakon, but he was still caught in the webbing. When he saw Sylas start towards him, he called for him to stop, fearing the dog would end up entangled in the magical trap as well. Sylas obeyed, but he kept to the upper branches just above where Trakon lay trapped, keeping an eye on the old man to protect him against any more spider attacks.

  Shortly after the spider was defeated, a deafening roar shook the clearing, the sound strong enough to cause many leaves to shake loose from their branches and drift to the ground below. The stickman cowered in fear, no longer hopping around and shaking its fist at Trakon and Sylas. The dog looked up to the sky, his stub of a tail making his whole rear end shake in greeting. He watched as white-hot dragonfire burned through the shimmering barrier, the flames licking around the edge and causing them to curl back under the tremendous heat. When the hole was large enough, Drakthira soared through with Trakon’s prone body strapped to her back, and landed directly below the old man and beside the still cowering stickman.

  The barrier began to repair itself as soon as the onslaught of fire ceased, but before it could close completely, Dax, too, soared through the hole and landed in the tree beside Sylas. He took in Trakon’s predicament before gingerly reaching out a hand, palm out, towards the webbing. Like he had done with living creatures before, he willed himself to absorb the life magic within the web, and mote by mote it slowly drained the energy from the trap until Trakon was able to free himself.

  Seeing his body atop Drakthira, Trakon’s essence soared into it quickly before any other distractions could keep him from returning. Feeling the flesh surround his essence was like coming home, only of a more personal nature. He seldom allowed himself to perform such out of body exploration due to the dangers involved, and judging by this experience, he doubted he would be doing it again any time soon.

  Trakon opened his eyes and carefully climbed down from ‘Thira’s back. Sylas leaped down from the tree and stood beside him, watching to make sure he was alright. Trakon patted the loyal dog on the head, murmuring assurances. He looked around for the stickman who had caused him all this trouble and found him facing off against Drakthira. The dragon had flames flickering around her snout and looked ready to burn the little guy like a pile of firewood, while the stickman cowered in front of her with his little wooden arms set protectively over his head. In an instant a shriek was heard coming from the sky, and when Trakon turned to the source of the scream, a huge phoenix appeared, descending toward ‘Thira, its immense talons fully extended!

  The flaming bird was slightly larger than the dragon, who roared a challenge at the incoming foe, her spikes standing at attention and protective eyelids descending over her vulnerable amethyst orbs. The phoenix didn’t stop or even slow down, crashing into the dragon and tumbling end over end, locked in a deadly embrace.

  Trakon saw ‘Thira bite down on the bird’s neck while the phoenix, who was much more agile than the dragon, tried to blind its opponent with its razor sharp beak. If not for the bony eyeridges above her eyes, the dragon would have already been blinded. Drakthira was mostly immune to the phoenix’ fire, but so was it to her’s, so a battle of teeth and claws raged across the clearing. Each time ‘Thira wounded the phoenix its fire would instantly cauterize the wound, and not even a drop of blood was spilled to the ground, while the phoenix had yet to be able to penetrate the dragon’s scaly armor.

  The old dragonrider wondered how they were not setting the entire place on fire, but the thought soon left his mind as a silvery steed of moonlight and ferocious beauty charged out of the surrounding brush straight at him. He couldn’t do much more than stare at such a fantastic spectacle as the unicorn ran straight at him, its horn lowered to impale him, and its cloven hooves churning up huge tufts of grass and dirt.

  Fortunately for the old man, Sylas was not as awestruck as he was, and before the deadly unicorn could thrust its horn through the dragonrider, the huge dog lunged and knocked it down on its back, grasping its neck in his huge jaws. The unicorn reared up in rage and fell straight back. To keep from being crushed to death, Sylas dissipated, and, retaining his misty form, surrounded the mythical creature in a greyish green cloud.

  Blisters formed instantly all over the beautiful creature’s back and sides, but the poison did not eat through the flesh as it would have a lesser foe. Still, the unicorn was not completely immune and Sylas was rewarded with a scream of pain and rage. The beast kicked out at him, which did little to the dog in his dim form. Sylas maintained his poisonous cloud form to keep the creature’s attention on him and diverted from the old man.

  Dax saw the fighting unfold below him within a matter of minutes. He was worried for Drakthira and wanted to help her, but he instinctively knew the phoenix fire would also kill him as easily as ‘Thira’s dragonfire. Seeing that Sylas had the unicorn well in hand, Dax circled the fighting dragon, watching and waiting for an opportunity to help his bond mate. His chance never came, however, for ‘Thira finally subdued the giant, flaming bird, pinning its head and wings to the ground and roaring out her triumph.

  Dax turned his attention back to Sylas and the unicorn, and, seeing his chance, teleported closer to the two and flung his arms out towards the beautiful, living moonlight. Two quills separated from his back and flew toward the steed, their aim true, burying themselves in the beast’s chest.

  “STOP!” Dax heard a voice say before everything seemed to slow until, finally, the world stood still.

  Drakthira felt a moment of sluggishness roll across her body, but with a growl she shook it off and looked around. The phoenix lay unmoving beneath her, even its flames caught in stasis. Dax was still standing as he had been, slightly bent at the waist, his arms flung forward. His hair, which usually hid the sharp quills along his spine, was still sticking out from where the quills had separated from his body and struck the unicorn. Trakon was standing, wide-eyed, in the center of the clearing under the huge, old tree. The unicorn was still standing although its legs were just beginning to buckle from the wounds in its chest. Even Sylas, still in his poisonous mist form, hung suspended in the air, green sparkles of magic caught in a tiny thunderstorm within his ephemeral form.

  Catching movement out of the corner of her eye, ‘Thira turned to face this new foe. The creature before her was ever-changing, although in small, minute ways. It jumped from the branches of the tree, its hind legs like those of a large, predatory cat, golden in color with small, black spots on them. It stood upright, like a person, and where the fur ended on its abdomen, a set of iridescent scales took over on its stomach and led up to its neck. The head most resembled a deer, but with a flattened quality, as though it were part human or elf. It had large ears like a deer, and giant antlers rising from its skull. When it turned to regard the fallen unicorn, ‘Thira saw it had mossy green fur going down its back, ending in a plush, red tail like a fox.

  The being knelt beside the unicorn, waving its muscular arms, which were covered in dense, brown fur, at Sylas, who moved away from the beast, unharmed. Its hands, which ‘Thira was sure had been large and tipped with talons, suddenly were small and nimble as they grasped the quills, one at a time, and removed them from the unicorn’s chest. It carefully placed both quills in a pouch tied at its waist.

  Cupping its hands over the wounds, the creature, whose face now resembled that of an eagle or some other bird of prey, began to chant quietly, and Drakthira saw a green glow coming from its hands. When it removed them a few minutes later, there was no trace of the wounds. Even the fur had grown back, leaving no hint of the previous battle.

  When it was finished the creature stood, now on legs covered with black fur that had white stripes running through it, and turned to face the dragon.

  “No blood must be spilled in the Grove,” it said.

  What have you done w
ith my friends? Drakthira asked.

  “I have not harmed them, dragon. Come, let’s talk. Why are you here? Why do you seek me out?”

  You are the godling, Drakthira said, a statement, not a question, but the being nodded anyway. Then you should recognize your magic, she said, looking at Daxon.

  The godling walked over to Dax and looked him over, peering for a long moment into the frozen man’s eyes.

  “Yes,” he said slowly. “Some of this is my work although it looks like the being that came from the Myste has rejoined the boy I created.”

  Yes, Drakthira said, not bothering to hide it. Was that not the intention?

  The godling regarded her for a long moment, unspeaking. Finally, it said, “I could not erase the creature entirely from the boy. The Myste is strong, as I’m sure you are aware. There are many kinds of magic on Darkenfel, mine is but one. The Myste is another. Your kind, yet another.”

  Yes, but why help the boy? Death is a part of life. Why try to save him?

  “Oh I didn’t save him, not really. I knew what he was. The earth, however… it spoke to me that day, bid me to do what I did. We all come from the earth, you see, all life. It is, therefore, worth listening to it… when it bothers to speak.”