"I was here," Strom said, and Sinjin bit his tongue. He had hoped everyone would be smart and remain silent. He'd been wrong. "You pledged loyalty to the Herald of Istra. This is her son."
"We swore no oath of fealty to the Herald of Istra's son," the tribesman said. "Any who take what is hers are thieves and will be treated as such. We've seen the golden dragon. The master of lies has escaped."
Those words sent a chill through Sinjin. Evidence of a dark future was mounting and he liked it not one bit. He needed the sword and knew only one way to get it. "I am Al'Drakon," he said, "and I claim the right of challenge."
These words sent a ripple through the spears. Sinjin hoped the words invoked a less prevalent prophecy as Mikala believed. She'd said it was dangerous but hadn't been able to tell him how or why. He wished Valterius had given her more time to speak.
The tribesman who had spoken for the Arghast flexed his tanned, oiled muscles. "I accept your challenge."
Sinjin swallowed, wondering what he had just done.
* * *
A scouting patrol returned, telling Durin and the others what they already knew. They were under attack. Black sails crowded the horizon, and dark storm clouds roiled overhead, filled with unnatural lightning that never stopped. The darkness had come for them. He hoped Valterius and Gerhonda would bring back Sinjin, Kendra, and the others. They were far better suited to lead. What did he know about battle?
"If they're right, we can fall back to the keystone caverns," Brother Vaughn said as he approached. Durin continued helping Mikala and Arakhan saddle Grekka and Atherian. "Do you think we can get everyone out of here in time?"
"No," Durin said. "Pray I'm wrong."
Brother Vaughn did just that.
"I need to know what the situation is up there," Durin continued, leading in spite of himself. "Mount up."
Brother Vaughn looked up in surprise.
"Mount up," Durin said again. "And bring your herald globe."
Tapping his pocket, Brother Vaughn accepted Arakhan's hand, and the powerful man practically pulled him into the saddle. With straps barely secured, Atherian leaped into the air, Grekka right behind. There was no time to waste, and the dragons also knew it. The stubborn beasts sometimes appeared to communicate quite well. It was a puzzle that had kept Durin up more than a few nights. If he lived through this, the memories of their flight would also haunt his dreams. The approaching armies no longer made any attempt at surprise, spreading across the land, making them more difficult to attack from the air. It was among the few advantages they had. Given enough time, the keystone caverns might provide even greater advantage. Based on the numbers pouring from ships and marring the landscape, they would need all they could get.
Giants waited in the valley, howling in rage on seeing the dragons. Durin hadn't expected to engage the enemy directly at all, let alone so soon. He'd gone from the normalcy of his daily business to a life-or-death battle in far too short a time. Reconciling what he saw proved difficult. Boulders--each one the size of a house--hurled at them hardly looked real. A rain of arrows pushed them higher, and a boulder slammed into the cliff face. Rock fragments pelted them, sparks thick in the air.
Atherian flew to the other side of the valley, giving Grekka room to maneuver. Both dragons used every trick to gain speed, racing up and down valley walls, elusive and unpredictable while at the same time gaining momentum. The sheer face loomed ahead far too soon, and it didn't feel like they were moving fast enough to gain the peaks. Massive stones whizzed past far too close to hitting their marks. Every evasive action slowed them, and the high valley remained out of reach. At the top of their arc, the dragons folded their wings and dropped. A barrage of stones hit the spot where they had been a moment before, showering them in fragments.
Frustrated by so many missed attacks, the giant rose to its full height. The massive beast effectively blocked the valley floor. Speed was not on the giant's side, and he moved too soon, giving the dragons time to avoid him by racing up opposite valley walls. One more turn and they would have the speed they so desperately needed. The giant, quicker than he'd made himself appear, waited for them when they turned.
The sudden appearance of other dragonriders distracted the mighty giant. Spears and rocks hurled from adragonback caused the monster to swat and duck away. The Drakon had disobeyed his orders and likely saved his life. This time they approached the cliff wall with more speed. Hurtling skyward, Durin couldn't help but cry out. Only Brother Vaughn's screams beside him made him feel any better.
They cleared the peaks and swiftly descended upon the thermals. The valley nestled among the peaks appeared in far better order than when Durin had seen it last. Crystals knocked askew during the breaking of the keystones stood almost straight, and all the debris had been cleared from the entranceways, leaving them as they must have been so long ago.
"What in the world happened here?" Brother Vaughn asked.
Durin shrugged.
Chapter 7
If others define your self-worth, they'll always be better than you.
--Sinjin Volker, Al’Drakon
* * *
You've served me well, Nat Dersinger, Mael's voice purred in Nat's mind. Do not fear me. I am most pleased.
Neenya's nails dug into Nat's flesh, and he knew this was as much reality as vision. Never before had his second sight overlaid the real world; always it had supplanted it. Now, though, Mael was at his full power, basking in Istra's light and able to apply his art with subtle mastery. Not since the last age had such sorcery been known to Godsland. The Herald of Istra was a child playing with toys compared to Mael and Nat quailed. For all her faults and flaws, Catrin was his friend.
Those thoughts angered Mael. Nat's vision turned red. Through this bond, bits of the sorcerer were revealed. He did not hate Catrin but was jealous. Such steadfast loyalty she commanded despite being so much less powerful.
Nat pretended not to notice these things. Through mortal eyes, he gazed on a figure part man, part dragon--at this point mostly dragon, but man he'd once been. Never could all traces of humanity be cast aside. This, too, was instinctively understood.
You must come willingly if you are to be useful. Trust me and history will be thick with your name.
Having a choice in this matter was incomprehensible. How could his desires matter to one so magnificent? No longer did he wonder if the dragon heard his thoughts.
This form has advantages. But it also has . . . limitations. Together we are more powerful. I have prepared you for this task. I raised you to be strong.
Raised him. The words struck a nerve. Matteo Dersinger had raised him--in his own way. Truly Nat had resented his father and the madness most perceived him to have. How much had Mael been responsible for? How many tragedies in his life could be traced back to a meddling dragon trapped within Dragonhold? Thinking of the glass viper that took his beloved Julet from him, Nat's spirit broke. Nothing had ever hurt him more, and he'd been searching for someone to blame ever since. He'd vented anger at those partially responsible but mostly at himself. Now he knew the true source of that most vile evil.
I've asked a great deal from you and will now ask even more. You must forgive me for introducing challenges into your life.
"Challenges!" Nat screamed. Neenya trembled behind him, her tears soaking his back. "You killed my true love and drove my father mad, what could you be but a monster?" He expected anger, resentment, rage but none came. Instead, he received understanding.
I've asked much.
Memories returned to Nat, filled with revelations. Now he saw lines of manipulation, gentle nudges influencing his decisions. It had been Mael, too, who'd led him to Neenya, who had proven his father's words, who had provided absolution when everything else was lost. Nat sobbed.
You must come willingly if you are to fulfill your destiny, Nat Dersinger. What will you do?
"I don't know."
Neenya wrapped her arms around him, squeezing him hard, as if she
knew he must choose between her and the dragon. And the dragon was winning.
What will you do?
When no answer came, Mael released the towering spire and soared away, disappearing over the sea.
* * *
Using the light of his herald globe, Brother Vaughn led the way. Durin followed. Arakhan and Mikala flanked them, ready to defend if needed. Wind howled, trespassing on the silence but not touching the eerily still valley. Deep fissures bifurcated the keystone, making it look like glass beneath a hammer blow, but no longer did the fissures issue smoke and fire. Like scar tissue from an old wound, smooth stone filled the cracks. It was not the same, but it was whole, much like Durin.
"We already explored that one," Brother Vaughn said, pointing. Arakhan scouted the area, searching the land for clues as to what had happened and whether or not it was safe for the Drakon to bring the Dragon Clan here. They had no time to waste, and Brother Vaughn wanted to do as little exploring as possible. While strange, the place appeared safe to him--far safer than anyone would be within Windhold. In spite of his impatience, he knew Arakhan and Mikala did not want to make the situation even worse. Skilled trackers, they understood things he did not. He let them do as they felt necessary. Someone had done them a tremendous service by clearing out the obstructions. The caverns themselves were defensible from within, apparently designed with that in mind.
The entranceways were not much larger than regal dragons needed. As long as no one waited within the caverns, Brother Vaughn was confident they would be better off here, though nowhere was truly safe.
"Look at this," Arakhan said a moment later, waving for the others to join him. He pointed to a wide trail in the moss leading to one of the caverns.
Brother Vaughn wondered how he had missed it. "What would make a mark like that?" he asked.
It looked like a trail made by a giant snake or perhaps a dragon's tail, but he hoped someone would prove him wrong. They could be walking into a trap.
A sharp intake of breath caused him to look toward Mikala, who'd worked her way in front of the rest. Glittering in the light of his herald globe waited sights that simultaneously invoked primal fear and a glimmer of hope.
The trail continued across the dusty cavern floor, snaking its way toward a central pedestal, which sat empty. The trail went no farther, and it did not turn or double back; it simply ended before the empty pedestal. The rest of the cavern was an altogether different story. Rows upon rows of weapons and armor stood meticulous and orderly. Glittering staves waited in purpose-built racks, and colorful glass spheres filled with magnificent designs rested on slender stands. Edging forward like a thief, Brother Vaughn pulled one from its resting place. Like a comet trapped in glass, it swirled in an endless vortex, somehow looking impossibly deep.
"Go," Durin said, his tone firm. "Bring our people here."
Mikala hefted a staff that gleamed even in meager light. Texture and contrast illuminated masterful construction, like silver and copper intricately melded together. Atop the staff rested a glass sphere not unlike the one Brother Vaughn held but with a ghostly design he couldn't quite make out. Arakhan went straight to the most plentiful weapon, something akin to a crossbow with an icy blue crystal embedded in the stock.
"We'll be back," Mikala said.
Brother Vaughn watched them go with hope and trepidation. Could they possibly get the Dragon Clan evacuated in time? Would these weapons even work? Were they even weapons? Did they require the hands of the gifted? So many questions ran through Brother Vaughn's mind. Durin took a more direct approach and took one of the crossbowlike weapons. If these proved potent, they could better arm the Drakon. Mikala's choice of staff might reveal what other, perhaps more powerful, weapons they possessed.
Durin pointed the crossbow at the nearby rock and pulled the trigger.
"Be careful with that!" Brother Vaughn said, but nothing happened. It wasn't a good sign.
"I think the trigger's broken on this one," Durin said. "It's like it didn't even try to fire." Reaching down, he picked up another, inadvertently pointing it at Brother Vaughn.
"Watch where you aim that thing."
Turning back toward stone, Durin tried a second weapon to no effect. No bolts or other projectiles were present, and Brother Vaughn's guts tightened. Walking back to sunlight, Durin brushed the dust from the bluish-white crystal, which made a slight click. A faint glow grew stronger, and the crystal pulsed with life. Short bursts of thunder echoed through the valley, and Durin ran to a nearby rock formation. The young man tried to climb up and was visibly deflated when he failed. It was something he could have done easily before his injuries.
Brother Vaughn rushed to his side and gave him a boost.
"By the gods!"
If not for his own physical limitations, Brother Vaughn would have climbed up to join the young man. "Tell me what you see!"
"Arakhan and Mikala are trying to clear a path for the Drakon. They're bringing the Dragon Clan, or at least a bunch of people. Oh, wow!"
"What?" Brother Vaughn asked, frustrated and tempted to make the climb himself in spite of the risks. He had to know what was going on.
"Wait."
A click was followed by a high-pitched thump. Durin stumbled backward, almost falling on top of Brother Vaughn.
Stepping back, the monk looked into the sphere he held. Terrified, he decided it would be better if someone with more power and experience tested it. With great care, he moved back into the cavern and returned it to the cradle that had held it for so long. It glowed brighter than all the rest. In his attempt at being careful, he slipped and nearly knocked the too-tall stand over. Who would place dangerous objects in such unstable places? The ancients continued to mystify him. They possessed such mastery yet did things that made absolutely no sense.
After seeing what the bow's kick did to Durin, Brother Vaughn searched for another option. The young man had been right about one thing: they could provide effective cover from this vantage.
"Giants!" Durin shouted, his weapon firing over and over with mere breaths in between. It seemed an impossible thing, but he was thankful for it nonetheless. No time to think about the empty pedestal; that mystery would have to wait. The monk continued his scan, searching for a weapon more suitable to a man his size and age. In a corner behind the full-sized bows rested a few smaller ones.
Grabbing the closest, Brother Vaughn hefted the weapon. It felt good in his hand. As a man who had taken vows of peace and honor, it frightened him when a tool of death brought joy and comfort, but this one did. Running back to the sunlight, he searched for a place from which he could gain a better view. Finally Durin put down his weapon long enough to pull Brother Vaughn up. A moment later, he stood, staring down at chaos. His bow clicked, trigger extended and ready.
Before he fired at approaching giants, Durin stayed his hand. Try as he might, Brother Vaughn could not locate the Drakon until they suddenly filled the air around him. Some just barely cleared the stones.
"Get out of the way!" Mikala shouted.
Durin went to his knees and lay flat, as did Brother Vaughn. Wings and claws pelted them, scrabbling at the stones around them, but then it was over. The Dragon Clan dismounted with trembling knees. Some went straight to the ground and kissed the soil. Others ran immediately into the cavern on Arakhan's command. Considering the chaos they had flown through, it was an impressive feat. As soon as passengers dismounted, Drakon leaped back into the air. Brother Vaughn flattened himself against the stone, but it was unnecessary. In tight spirals, Drakon rode the air above the keystone. Whether an effect of the geography or some trick of the ancients, some magic remained.
"Don't shoot the Drakon," Durin said.
The urge to fire on the enemy was difficult to resist, which worried Brother Vaughn. Knowing he fought for the light had to be enough. When the Drakon reached the bottom of their arc and began racing along the valley floor, Brother Vaughn aimed at anything behind them. Such an amazing vantage the anc
ients had capitalized on. He could fire into the enemy with almost complete impunity.
From below, a dark figure cast red lightning, but it fizzled before reaching the mountaintops. The smell of ozone was heavy in the air until gusting wind threatened to toss Brother Vaughn from the dizzying height. Another blast hit, and the world went three shades darker. It was then he knew he was in real trouble. Shouts rose up around him as others found themselves under similar assault. Rolling onto his back, a feral dragon's fierce visage bearing down on him, he pulled the trigger.
The initial blast cast the dragon backward, but it shook off the pain and regarded Brother Vaughn as one might a troublesome bug. Under the dragon's gaze, the weapon took far too long to recharge. He was powerless, insignificant, and about to die. A slight click momentarily banished dragon fear. With a simple squeeze, he fired. Knocked backward by the close-range attack that struck above the dragon's eyes, the giant beast tumbled head over tail.
Shaking off the deadly lethargy, Brother Vaughn moved. More dragons would come. Approaching footsteps brought a glimmer of hope. Somehow amid the dragon wind and the armies below, he heard many soft clicks. The Drakon opened fire. He and Durin found themselves in a bad place, and they stood back-to-back, weapons at the ready. Standing together and remaining still meant the Drakon could fire with greater confidence. This Brother Vaughn told himself repeatedly as the dragon he'd shot in the head turned to regard him. It wore something akin to a smile.
Durin fired first, his aim true. Brother Vaughn tried to still trembling hands. Squinting, he held his breath and didn't have to search long to find a target. Still he hesitated. Missing when firing at an enemy within their defenses could mean killing their own. Drakon fired into the air, stemming the incoming flow of feral dragons. As if realizing they would soon lose Durin and Brother Vaughn, they turned their fire on those who'd landed. The world lit up, leaving them shading their eyes. Leaping into the air, the dragon lashed out with its tail, sending both tumbling.
The Seventh Magic (Book 3) Page 7
