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

by Shanlynn Walker

  Sylas approached the opened rock and lapped up all the remaining liquid. He felt it travel through him, a not unpleasant feeling of warmth traversing throughout his body. He felt like every cell within him was bursting with life and energy, and his body shook in response.

  “NOW, COME WITH ME,” said the being within the godling.

  Sylas saw the entity depart from Aarlian’s body. It became ephemeral, sparkling in the sun, and Sylas quickly changed to his mist form and followed it.

  Sylas followed the sparkling green energy down a dark tunnel. The tunnel stretched out for miles, twisting and turning in the darkness. After they had gone many miles and sped through crevices no person would ever be able to squeeze through, they finally emerged into a large, underground cavern. Sylas reformed into his solid state and after a moment, the glowing green energy sank into the floor beside him.

  The giant dog looked around. Gems of all kinds and of all sizes were embedded in the walls and ceiling of the cavern. He saw diamonds the size of a man, and rubies larger than he was, yet, being a dog, these things held no value for him.

  The floor beside him began to tremble slightly, and soon after a hand emerged as if the floor was made of liquid instead of solid stone. Sylas cocked his head quizzically as he watched the stone man emerge from the cavern floor, gems embedded all over his body. He noticed in this form, the stone man did not smell like a plant, but instead like a mixture of things; rock, dirt, grass, and even a little like running water and blood.

  “Greetings, Sylas,” said the stone man. “What would you like to ask of me?”

  Unlike with the others, the stone man did not make any suggestions. That was fine with Sylas since he already knew what he wanted to ask. He focused on the name of the one Trakon wanted to find: Jessa. Where was she now?

  The stone man’s eyes began to glow dimly. He moved to stand beside a large, clear diamond embedded in the wall. With a gesture the gem blazed to life, glowing so brilliantly Sylas averted his eyes. When it dimmed, he saw Jessa standing in a cavern much like the one he stood within now but without the gems.

  He moved closer to the image. Something seemed wrong. He had the sense he was seeing Jessa as she was now, at this moment, yet, she wasn’t moving, merely standing still. He sniffed at the image, surprised when her scent came through clearly to his keen nose. She smelled like lavender overlaid with the coppery scent of blood. But not ordinary blood. Something about it was different. Earthy. More than anything, she smelled like fear.

  Focusing as much as he was able, Sylas could just make out the faint reddish glow surrounding the woman in the image, as if she were somehow caught in a thin globe of magical energy. Her eyes were wide as she stared at something Sylas couldn’t see. The rise and fall of her chest gave away the fact she was still alive, but she seemed to be trapped. And afraid.

  Sylas took a last, long sniff at the image and the woman trapped within, and filed it away in his memory. He would track her down for Trakon. Then she could release the dragons and everyone would be happy. And he would have another dragon friend to play with and share meals with. The thought made his stub tail wag for just a moment as the image in the diamond faded away.

  The stone man turned to him. “Sylas, there is something you must know before we return to your friends,” he began. “I didn’t want to tell you this in front of everyone, but you must know.” He stopped and took a deep breath.

  Sylas wasn’t sure what the stone man wanted to tell him, but he understood enough of body language to understand it would not be good news.

  “The life magic which Trakon infused into you is the sustaining force for the Myste which is in you. The magic I gave you will reinforce your earth magic temporarily, but eventually the Myste within you will prove overpowering, and you will revert to the original Myste’s creation.” He looked sad as he said it, or at least as sad as a man made of stone could manage. “I have no power over the Myste. In its own way, the Myste is probably the most powerful magic on Daegonlot. It consumes all other types of magic, absorbing it, merging with it to create, consume, or destroy. I wish there was something I could do, but I thought you should know.”

  Sylas knew the stone man was telling him the truth; he could smell if the creature was lying. It made him sad to think he might revert back to his former self and become a danger to his friends. He cocked his head questioningly at the stone man as if to say how much time do I have?

  “I don’t know how long you have,” the stone man answered the unspoken question. “It seems it has been feeding for a long time, but it’s possible, even likely, it will go faster the longer you are away from the Myste. You will no longer feel the pull, but the Myste within you is devouring your earth magic to maintain itself, and I fear it will only get worse the longer you stay away.”

  Sylas dipped his head in acknowledgement. He changed to his mist form and, with the stone man, glided back to the ever sunny Grove.

  Trakon and Daxon were talking quietly with Drakthira when they saw Sylas’ misty, grey form enter the clearing along with the glistening, green energy. Sylas reformed beside Trakon and watched with his friends as the green substance entered Aarlian, who opened his eyes a few moments later.

  “I hope you found the knowledge you were seeking, Sylas,” Aarlian said. The godling looked diminished somehow, as if the strain of communicating with the Earth had taken a large toll on him. He stood and said to the group, “Please rest. You will be safe for tonight.” He murmured something under his breath and clapped his hands together, and immediately the sun was replaced with the moon, and darkness reigned in The Grove. Then he was gone.

  Dax looked at Sylas, wishing he could communicate with the big dog and find out what he had learned. Trakon asked, “What do we do now?”

  Dax began to answer, but suddenly felt very tired. “I don’t know, yet,” he managed to say. The ground had never felt so soft. “We will figure it out in the morning.”

  Trakon, too, felt his eyelids closing. He tried to protest, but eventually just nodded in agreement, stretching out upon the ground. Within minutes he was snoring loudly.

  Drakthira and Sylas exchanged amused looks, then the big dog curled up by her side and he, too, began to snore. ‘Thira could feel the magic emanating from the tree and knew it was responsible for the sudden sleepiness overcoming the rest of the party. She could feel it as well, but it had no real hold over her, and she knew she could easily shake it off. Instead, not knowing what tomorrow would bring or when they would have another full night’s rest, she allowed the magic to overcome her senses and drifted off into darkness.

  Chapter Seven

  The fiercest serpent may be overcome by a swarm of ants.

  ~ Isoroku Yamamoto

  When Dax awoke the next morning he found himself back in their original camp. There was no sign of The Grove or the godling. He inched himself out from beneath Drakthira’s wing where he had been sleeping. He couldn’t remember the last time he had slept so well, and wondered to himself if that had to do more with the Grove, or the warmth of ‘Thira’s scales. But in any case, he felt refreshed and ready to take on anything. Taking in these familiar surroundings, Dax found Trakon sleeping on his bedroll that was pushed up against Sylas’ back. The old man had his arm thrown over the dog and both were snoring loudly.

  He chuckled quietly at the scene and heard Drakthira do the same. Glad she was awake, he leaned up against her large, scaly chest and laid his head against her cheek. Where should we go from here, ‘Thira? he asked.

  She nuzzled him, then raised her head to look at the old man and the dog once more. She didn’t know how to answer Daxon. The quest before them seemed vast and she was unsure what their next steps should be. Up to this point it seemed they had always known what their next move should be, but in light of all they had recently learned, she was as puzzled as Dax. Should they try to rejoin Daegonlot to Darkenfel? Or should they try to find Jessa? Maybe instead of either of those options, they should seek out a great
power that could do both. She simply didn’t know.

  At that moment, Trakon let out a snore so loud it awoke Sylas, who, alarmed, immediately dissipated. The old man, who had been leaning against the dog as he slept, fell over and his arm that had been draped over Sylas hit the ground, jarring him awake. Dax and ‘Thira shared another chuckle as the old man rubbed the sleep from his eyes and sat up. Sylas, realizing there was no immediate threat, reformed atop Trakon and began to lick his face to help him wake up. Trakon sputtered and tried to push him off, but it was like pushing a boulder and finally he tried to hide his face by pushing it into the dog’s chest. Sylas, unperturbed, continued to lick the old man’s head, making his wisps of hair stand up in comical angles.

  “Let him up, Sylas, I’m hungry, and Trakon cooks the best eggs,” Dax said, laughing aloud. Reluctantly, Sylas removed himself and Trakon got to work preparing breakfast for himself and Dax.

  Once breakfast was over, Dax approached Trakon to get his opinion on how to proceed. Before he could even broach the subject, however, Sylas materialized directly in front of him and barked loudly. Daxon regarded the dog a moment, then tried to step around him and continue on his way, but once more, Sylas blocked his path. Instead of barking, the giant dog took the elf’s arm gently in his mouth and began pulling him along.

  “Where are you taking me, Sylas?” Daxon asked.

  Sylas released his arm and simply looked at him, head cocked to the side. Then he looked off to the west and whined loudly.

  Sylas wants us to follow him, Drakthira supplied helpfully.

  Trakon walked up and stood by Daxon’s side and together they looked off to the west, following Sylas’ gaze. “What lies that way?” Dax asked the old man.

  “A few scattered human villages if memory serves me right,” Trakon began. “It’s hard to say now, I haven’t been that way in a long time. Most of the villages were wiped out and few humans remained the last time I passed through. Beyond that is the Salt Crystal Lake, and after that, the Crimson Peak Mountains.”

  “Why is it called Salt Crystal Lake?” Dax asked. He had grown up on Daegonlot, and before that, lived within the Myste. Darkenfel was still a mostly unexplored mystery to him.

  “Hopefully you won’t have to find out why,” the old man said ominously. “It’s surrounded by desert and quicksand. The lake itself is so full of salt it’s poisonous to drink.”

  “Sounds wonderful,” Dax said wryly, looking at Sylas intently.

  His mind made up, Dax nodded at the big dog and stroked the silvery grey fur on his neck. “You have never let us down before, boy. If you think we need to go west, we will follow you.”

  Solemnly, Sylas turned and began trotting westward. After just a few moments, he became ephemeral and soared swiftly towards his destination. Trakon mounted Drakthira, and with a powerful leap, they were airborn, with Dax gliding along beside them.

  During the following two days, Dax wished numerous times that he knew their final destination, so that he could teleport the travelers and shorten this part of the journey. He had been able to scout ahead for the godling simply because he grew up on Daegonlot and knew every inch of the relatively small island. He knew nothing of Darkenfel, had never even flown over this part of it, much less walked it.

  The sun beat down on them from overhead, seemingly more intense the farther west they went. Sweat trickled down from his hairline into his eyes, making them sting. Cursing, he wiped his forehead. The party stopped in the shade of a small copse of trees to rest and eat from their dwindling food supplies, but even in the shade it was abysmally hot.

  Dax finished off the last bite of some dried jerky and stared off to the west. According to Trakon’s estimation they would reach the Salt Crystal Lake by day’s end. They would be skirting the southern edge of the lake, which would still take about a day if the old dragonrider’s memory was correct. This would be a day of danger, traversing some of the most treacherous ground in Darkenfel, full of quicksand pits and desert, completely devoid of any water other than the lake itself, which was full of salt and other minerals.

  Dax turned and looked at the other members of the party. Trakon was sweating heavily and drinking deeply from his water cask. Even Sylas seemed affected by the heat, panting heavily where he lay. Only Drakthira seemed unaffected, possibly because her scales reflected most of the heat away from her body. Daxon was thankful for that. He hated seeing ‘Thira experience discomfort, and there was no way Trakon would have been able to travel on foot over the distance they had to cover if she couldn’t carry him.

  Can you smell any water close by, ‘Thira? he asked his dragon companion.

  He saw her out of the corner of his eye stretch out her long neck and sniff deeply. Yes, she answered, there is a river or stream a few hours ahead.

  Daxon was grateful for their good fortune. Most of the land he had seen on Darkenfel was lush and water was not hard to come by, therefore, they hadn’t bothered packing more than just a few casks. He figured if they could get across the desert within a day they would be fine with what they could carry as long as they drank as much as they could from the stream before setting out. ‘Thira shouldn’t need any additional water at all, and Dax thought he and Sylas would probably be alright if they drank sparingly. It was mostly Trakon he was worried about. He would need to drink regularly to stay hydrated, especially with as much as he was sweating.

  “Alright, let’s go,” he said. “Drakthira says there is water a few hours ahead. We will camp by the source tonight and drink our fill before starting out tomorrow.”

  He dimmed his body, floating into the air where he hovered while Trakon mounted Drakthira. Once again, they continued westward.

  As promised, a few hours before dusk the band of travelers came upon a small stream fed from an underground spring. Although he knew they could reach the desert outskirts if they kept going, Dax called for a halt and made camp.

  “Drink as much and as often as you can tonight without making yourselves sick,” he said. “Tomorrow we will enter the desert and will need to conserve as much water as we can.”

  There was little shade to be found even this close to water. Dax walked along the streambed a short distance until he found a curve where the stream widened and created a small pool of slow moving water. He removed his clothing and entered the pool to cool his heated body.

  There is a pool down this way, ‘Thira. Tell Trakon to follow my tracks. The water feels great and he can wash off the dirt and sweat.

  He allowed himself a few more minutes to revel in the coolness of the water, washing the sweat and grime from his body, before stepping out and getting dressed. Just as he finished pulling on his boots, Trakon arrived, his eyes lighting up as he looked longingly at the small pool.

  “It’s all yours,” Dax said. “I need to scout around, see if I can find some fresh meat to bolster our supplies.”

  The old man nodded and began undressing as Dax walked off, still following the streambed away from their camp. He scoured the ground, looking for any signs of game. Shortly, he came across some hoof prints in the soft mud alongside the streambed and began following them. He walked quietly, hoping he could catch his prey unaware, and was rewarded for his efforts when he spotted a small, deer-like creature cropping the sparse grass beside the streambed. He felled it instantly, stealing its life force before it even knew he was there.

  He slung the carcass over his shoulder, feeling rejuvenated with the creature’s life energy coursing through him, and teleported back to their campsite. He dressed the deer and started it roasting on a makeshift spit he carved from a branch he found lying on the ground nearby.

  Turning from the cooking meat, he saw ‘Thira dozing but saw no sign of Sylas. Probably hunting, he thought.

  As if on cue, Sylas appeared carrying a large carcass of an animal Dax had never seen before. It resembled a huge rat, but was hairless and had no eyes. He settled down with ‘Thira and they began to eat.

  The meat Dax was r
oasting was done so he moved it away from the fire. He was beginning to get worried about Trakon and wondered if the old man had fallen asleep in the pool. Just as he was about to teleport back to the pool to check on him, Trakon walked into camp looking much better than he had before.

  “Thank you for showing me the pool, Dax, it was very refreshing. And for finding some fresh meat for supper,” he added, seeing the roasted meat.

  Dax nodded, and they both settled down to eat. Watching the old man out of the corner of his eye, Dax sensed there was something bothering him. He was staring vacantly toward the west, unease apparent on his face. “What is it, Trakon?” he asked.

  The old man looked at Dax and smiled briefly. “Nothing, really,” he began. “It’s just I can’t feel any life energy coming from the west. It’s as if there is a giant black hole in the earth devoid of life of any kind. It makes me uneasy to think I will not be able to use my magic is all.”

  Dax followed the old man’s gaze, now a little uneasy himself. He remembered taking Trakon into the Myste, and the strange way the magic within had affected him. He had unwittingly called forth a dragon from his mind. Be that as it may, he would feel better if Trakon were able to use his magic if needed. They had faced enough perils to know he couldn’t count on always being around when the old man needed help.

  “Maybe it’s just shielded,” Dax supplied helpfully.

  Trakon’s brow creased further. So quietly Dax almost missed it, he muttered, “I’m not sure that would be better.”

  Mid-morning the next day the small party was once again airborne above the shimmering white desert sand. Dax had never seen sand so white. Heat rose from the ground and distorted the air. The wind didn’t stir; not even a breeze disturbed the white blanket. Drakthira labored to keep aloft in the absence of any thermals to help. Dax knew she wouldn’t be able to fly much longer, especially with the added weight of Trakon.