Alfric remembered it well. He had lost it on the most terrifying night of his life. He took Hurn to the hill and pointed at the crag. "There," he said.
Hurn looked up at the hill and then glanced at the ground beneath. He brushed aside the gravel and found something. He held a dirty apple core aloft.
Alfric went over to Hurn and took the core. He sniffed it, and a dozen different scents flooded him. The apple’s sweetness intermingled with the sweat of a human, along with something else, a smell like the burning of greenery that hadn't yet dried out. "I'm afraid I can only smell a human. It means little to me. There's something else, too, except I don't know what it is." Alfric gave the apple core back to Hurn.
Hurn sighed and drew back his arm as if to toss the core.
"Wait!" Alfric yelled. "Bradir is much stronger than I am. He might be able to discover something more helpful."
With a satisfied nod, Hurn slipped the core into his sparkling robes.
Bradir raised the apple core to his nose and inhaled. He closed his eyes and then licked the core. After a few moments, he opened his eyes.
"I know who chewed on this," he said. "A girl we found in a village south of the Mikill Mountains. What's strange is that she should be dead. I left her with Velmit. Don't know what she's doing this far east."
"What did she look like?" Hurn asked, leaning forward.
"Red hair. Curly and down to her shoulders. Pretty lass."
Alfric thought it sounded like Fryda, but it couldn't have been.
"How long ago did she pass through here?" he said.
"Two days," Hurn answered for Bradir. "You may leave us now, Bradir."
Scowling, Bradir slinked away. Alfric had seen so little of Bradir since they'd entered Grimwald. He seemed changed. Now that they'd found the beacon, he walked aimlessly, with no pack and no beacon to search out.
Alfric, however, was not without a purpose. That woman might be Fryda, which meant she might be alive, and had taken the dragon soul.
"I saw this woman with the forest wyverns," Hurn said, his forehead crinkled with concern. "Bradir does not need to track her down. I know where she's gone. It couldn't be a place worse for us."
"Where?" Alfric said, growing desperate.
"Dragir," Hurn said.
"When can we leave?" Alfric said.
"You can't," Hurn said. "If you get too far from Eosor's orb, his power won't stop the wraith from gaining control. I can't allow you to leave."
"I must find her," Alfric said. Seeing Hurn's determination, he decided to take another position, one that might appeal to Hurn better. "She has the dragon soul. You need it for your mission." He didn't know what exactly Hurn's cleansing entailed, but it seemed to be of great importance, and the dragon soul the greatest tool to accomplish it.
Hurn paused, seeming to consider Alfric's proposition. "I swore I would never enter Dragir again. It is an oath I cannot easily break. I will think on things tonight. In the meantime, tell me how you came to acquire the dragon soul."
Alfric recounted how as a boy years ago, he'd wanted to follow the warriors out from Indham on their skirmish. He'd taken a practice sword and shield from the barracks and ventured to Lady's Lake. It had taken him an entire day to reach, and by the time he got there, the sun hung low in the sky. He was exhausted and had found no sign of the warriors. Deciding to rest his aching legs, he sat against a tree and drifted off. When he awoke, night had fully come, and with it, a pack of wolves. They surrounded him, growling and barring their teeth.
He cried out to the gods, though he never named a single one. No god answered his prayer. Instead, the first wolf attacked. It sunk its teeth into his forearm, and he tried to fend it off with the practice shield. A second wolf slashed its forepaw, earning him the wounds that still scarred his face. With the shield strap linked around his free arm, he slammed the edge onto another wolf's head. The wolf yelped and let go. The shield crushed the skull of another wolf, but the rest of the wolves swarmed him.
"At that moment, I knew I was dead. Time seemed to slow, and I closed my eyes. I wished to be back in Indham. Even washing dishes in Enlil's Temple would have been better. I wanted to be anywhere but that place."
"That's it," Hurn said, his eyes widening. "The key to entering the reliquary."
"But I never went to the reliquary. When I opened my eyes, a cave dragon was there. Piles of ash surrounded me. The dragon flew away, and the pendant was around my neck. I'd always assumed the dragon had given it to me."
"Not the dragon," Hurn said. "It was you who evaded the Sentinel and brought the dragon soul back with you. If that is the case, then your power is far beyond anything heard of, even when Madrem was free. You, Alfric, can transport not only your spirit but your body into the other-realm. Being able to move from one world to the next at will."
"I can't have done that. I would have remembered it."
"When terrible things happen, the mind can recreate memories, morphing them into more suitable ones. More pleasant."
"So you think the dragon who saved me doesn't exist?"
"What matters now is going to the reliquary. With the silver scepter brought back, Bradir can use it to remain in control. With his strong scent, he will find the woman who has taken the dragon soul. Let us hope they haven't yet entered Dragir."
"Why?"
"Because my sister, the Witch Queen, rules Dragir. Should she obtain the dragon soul, then the cleansing will never happen. In fact, all the world—and the worlds beyond our own—would be doomed."
25
Jaruman
The caverns and tunnels of the dragon enclosure burned like a furnace. Sweat soaked Jaruman's tunic, and the moist air made it difficult to breathe.
The wards on his face had provided a little light, but as he delved deeper into the cave, they flickered out completely. He cursed Peoh’s magic as he burned more lifesoul to enhance his sight. Even then, the tunnels were mostly shadows.
Soon, even using Madukai power became impossible. His temperature roared whenever he activated his lifesoul. Using it again would make him pass out and die from dehydration or heat sickness. This wasn't the place he imagined for a tomb. Besides, he still had to find his daughter.
Thankfully, he found a torch to guide his way. He burned lifesoul and tried to catch Fryda's scent. Instead he found something musky and foul—like a wild beast. Beyond that stench was the faintest hint of dried blood, as though that same beast had feasted upon its prey down here and died after getting lost in one of the tunnels.
Jaruman hoped that prey hadn't been Fryda.
He came to an iron door that bore no handle or lock. He touched the outlines of runes, and suddenly his belt pouch grew hot. The door lurched open. He tore the pouch away and threw it down. The skin was scalded where the pouch had rested. The pouch glowed faintly and stopped.
The suppression stone. Somehow it had opened the door.
Jaruman heard something groan, like the eaves of an old building in the wind, and looked up. A cave dragon lay in front of a carcass with the flesh picked from its bones. The creature was the largest dragon Jaruman had ever seen, and even this expansive room could barely contain it.
Quietly, he let down the torch, drew his sword, and scooped up the belt pouch. He flipped it open and withdrew the suppression stone. It grew warm in his hands again, but not enough to burn him. His mind expanded, and his presence seemed to reach out, only to meet with resistance. He was thrown from the experience, the suppression stone growing hot again, and he released it.
It clattered to the floor. In an instant, he was swept from his feet and tipped upside down. His stomach jumped. Jaruman had felt the magic pulsing within the stone, yet it hadn't controlled the dragon. He still gripped his sword, but the dragon held him at too great a distance for the weapon to be useful.
"Why does a Madukai wield a suppression stone?" a voice boomed inside his head. Jaruman knew it was the dragon speaking, though its mouth didn't move. "All the dragons have left
. You missed two wyverns by a handful of days."
He stared into the the cave dragon’s golden eyes. "I did not come to capture any dragons—or wyverns."
"Then why bring a suppression stone into the hold?" The dragon spoke with a high-pitched voice, sounding like a different creature than the one who had spoken before. "It is of no use, as you saw. My madness that protects me. My mind is shattered into too many fragments for you to control any one of them."
The suppression stone hadn't worked, but the dragon didn't seem to want to harm him. That, at least, was a stroke of luck. Jaruman peered up at the carcass below him. Was that Fryda? The bones looked too big to be human, and the skull looked more like a bear's. Not Fryda, then. Likely the beast he'd smelled earlier.
A purple tongue flashed across the dragon's jagged teeth. "That was the second visitor. Not a particularly satisfying meal. Will you behave if I put you down?"
Jaruman agreed. The dragon's tail tipped him upright and placed him on the ground. He didn’t sheath his sword.
The next voice belonged to a doting grandmother. "Put that needle away. It wouldn’t pierce my hide even with a Madukai behind it.”
Jaruman doubted that very much, but he sheathed the sword anyway. If the dragon intended to kill him, she would have done it already.
“My name is Stardrux,” she continued, “though the others call me the Mad One." She yawned and laid her chin on the ground. In seconds, she was snoring.
He could see now how this dragon had earned her moniker. He couldn't exactly wake the dragon and ask her questions about the other visitors, so he decided to wait for it to wake.
No longer fearing for his life, Jaruman realized he hadn't eaten anything since the bread and water in The Flaming Monkey's cellar.
He gathered kindling from around the edges of the chamber. He piled it in the chamber's center, below a hole in the roof. Untying the rabbit from his belt, he glanced over his shoulder as Stardrux stirred.
"I can help," she said.
Jaruman extended a hand. "Please, do."
A small flame popped from Stardrux's mouth and ignited the kindling. Jaruman could have easily done it himself, but he thought it a step toward gaining the dragon's trust.
Jaruman introduced himself as he skinned the rabbit.
"You have an edge to your voice. Not like someone from beyond Babon's Pass. Where have you been living?"
Swallowing, Jaruman considered lying to Stardrux. Indham was responsible for the dragon trade.
"You may be honest with me, Madukai," she said. "That you knew how to wield the suppression stone suggests that are either from Indham or Lamworth. And I doubt anyone with your gifts would be allowed outside of Lamworth. So Indham it is, isn't it?"
"I wasn't born there, but yes, that's where I've been the past twenty years." He was becoming accustomed to the way her voice shifted with every sentence. An old noble woman from Lamworth at one moment, and a pubescent Tryndian boy the next.
"I met a boy from Indham," she said as Jaruman put the rabbit over the fire. This time, the voice was feminine, carrying an almost seductive lilt. "He was very special. I watched wolves attack him. I would not have intervened, except something peculiar occurred. As the wolves descended upon him, cornered with his back to a tree, he suddenly passed from this world."
Jaruman cocked his head. "He died?"
"No, he entered Taerentym. It is the place humans call the other-realm. His spirit gone from his body, he fell. The wolves were surprised by the sudden change in their prey. That gave me more than enough time to set them all ablaze. When the smoke dissipated, the boy was coughing. I'd nearly killed him. But what was most strange, and what troubles me to this day, was the dragon pendant around his neck that had not been there before he'd ventured to the other-realm."
"Alfric," Jaruman whispered.
"So you know the boy?"
"He's not a boy anymore. He's not even a man. The wraiths got him."
"Then our world may be doomed."
"What do you mean?"
"Have you heard of the dragon soul? No? That does not surprise me. It is a relic of great power, far more than any other relic within the reliquary of Kranak-Ur."
"How did Alfric get it?"
"He must have gone there. I always thought it simply fortuitous that I met him that day to save his body from the wolves. Yet after the madness took me, I realized that he and I had something in common. The reason why they call me the mad dragon is because I have the gift of prophecy. Knowing your future, and those of a million others, makes one insane. I constantly wonder whether their fates are sealed, or if they can be changed by manipulating the present. It drove me mad, yes, but so would it drive anyone mad, dragon or not."
"That doesn't explain how Alfric reached the reliquary. Kranak-Ur is a long way from Indham." Jaruman could see that the dragon was certainly mad, though she seemed to speak with clarity on the topic of Alfric.
"He is called by Madrem. One of her Talented. He can travel between worlds. I suspect the gift is not yet matured. I made the mistake of presenting this information to the Witch Queen of Dragir. Thankfully she did not believe me. I am, after all, mad." Stardrux winked.
Jaruman chewed on a rabbit's leg. "You said there were other visitors. Did a young woman come here?"
"She carried that same suppression stone."
Jaruman dropped the meat. "What happened to her?"
"The forest wyverns took her."
"Where?"
"The wyverns promised her that they would find her friend," Stardrux said, "who wears the dragon soul. But I know when foul play is afoot. She will get far more than she bargained for. I do not know what they plan to do, but what the wyverns lack in size, they make up for in cunning."
Jaruman cursed. "Do you know where they took her?"
"There are many places."
"Can you track them?"
"I have many gifts, tracking not one of them. But there are other ways by which I can learn of their route. They call me mad because I wield the gift of prophecy. Every time I have seen into my future and the futures of others, I've brought something back with me. A fragment of someone's personality, whether it be myself in the past, another in the future, or someone who might have been, had circumstances been different."
Jaruman could tell that Stardrux hadn't spoken with anyone for quite some time. If he didn't steer the conversation, he might die of old age before he learned anything valuable. "Find them." He paused, realizing that the dragon's teeth were larger than swords. "Please."
Stardrux's eyes rolled back, turning white. A fire burned within her throat, turning her skin transparent. In a moment, the fire was gone and her golden irises returned. "They have gone to Dragir."
"The land of the Witch Queen?"
"There is no other."
No one could enter there. Only the foolhardiest had attempted to cross into Queen Elmyra's domain. Every one of them had failed.
Jaruman didn't think he'd be capable of entering where all the others had failed, yet he couldn't leave Fryda. But with a cave dragon, he might stand a chance. Except there were only two exits in this room, and neither of them were large enough for this dragon to get there. It begged the question—how did it ever get here in the first place?
He peered up and saw a hole in the wall. There it was.
"Can you take me to Dragir?” he said.
"You wish to free the mad dragon?"
"I wish to find my daughter."
"These iron chains bind me," Stardrux said, her voice gruff. "No man can free me."
"No man, but a Madukai could. As long as you help me, I will grant you freedom."
"A dangerous bargain to make with one they call mad."
Jaruman knew that, but he didn't have a choice. He allowed Sulith's magic to saturate his body, and with the strength of a dozen men, he took the iron chains in his hands. With a mighty tug, iron bent and snapped.
Stardrux roared and belched a ball of writhing flames. "Now
, warrior of the Madukai, shall we ride together?"
26
Alfric
Alfric squeezed his eyes shut, concentrating so hard, he ground his teeth.
"Try to exert every ounce of your will," Hurn said.
Feeling foolish, Alfric tried again. Nothing happened. There was a mental wall that he couldn't pass through.
"You're not desiring it enough." Hurn grabbed Alfric's hand. Before Alfric could stop him, he sliced his palm with a knife.
Alfric's blood dripped onto the crystal floor of Eosor's Glade. The crystal seemed to swallow it, leaving no trace.
He balled his fists, trying to ignore the pain. "Will the blood help?"
"I can't see how it'll harm anything. Blood is the most powerful vector for magic, for it contains lifesoul. Now try."
Alfric thought of Fryda and how he wished to be with her. It was easy to want to be somewhere else. He desired to be where she was more than anything, to confirm whether she was the woman. His mind wavered, and a rift opened before him.
"Good." Hurn walked around the rift. The edges sparked and crackled, and a sulfuric scent drifted from the breeze blowing out from it. "Now, you must open another. This one inside the first. It will take our bodies to—"
While Hurn spoke, Alfric concentrated on the portal. Suddenly, he was elsewhere, standing on a road. Everything around him was gray. A strange energy coursed within his spirit.
The grand elms and oaks of a forest rose up behind him. The towering walls of a city stood in front of him. Where was he? Was this Dragir?
He had been thinking of Fryda, and the portal had taken him here. Alfric filled his mind with thoughts of Fryda again and pulled at the air in front of him. Another rift opened. When he stepped through this one, he was standing outside a prison cell. A dragon the size of a draught horse stood next to him. It waited outside the cell, as though guarding it. Alfric peered through the cell's wicket. Inside was Fryda.
The Dragon Soul (Vagrant Souls Book 2) Page 17
