The Dragon Soul (Vagrant Souls Book 2)

by Samuel E. Green

  Alfric scaled the walls, using the gaps in the stones to find purchase. Even Hurn proved himself an able climber. Cyne and Bradir took a longer path, around the pack of the gathered drakens. The two pairs each took different directions lest they be discovered.

  “I cannot locate Elmyra,” Hurn whispered as he hung from a jutting rock. “She’s somewhere in the shaft, controlling the drakens. Keep your eyes open. Use your senses. We must not be the ones taken by surprise.”

  “Don’t you think it’s strange that there aren’t any dragons here? I thought this cave was filled with them.”

  Hurn pursed his lips. “Let’s continue.”

  34

  Fryda

  Naeth slashed the nornthread ropes around a male draken’s ankles.

  "This is the last one," Lopyl said as she helped the male to his feet.

  Naeth shuffled out of the chamber. She looked exhausted, and her wings were still bleeding. They'd need to be dressed soon.

  There were three dozen drakens in the chamber. All of them had been freed from the nornthread by Naeth. Without the bonds, the elves couldn't control them. Fryda wished she could have done the same to those who'd fallen to their deaths in the shaft.

  A group of drakens screamed, pushing through the others to get away from the entrance. Tursn bounded into the chamber, bowling over a draken. Flames poured from his mouth, reducing the draken’s head to cinders. The other drakens, recovered from Tursn's sudden arrival, swarmed him.

  He fought them off with talon and claw. Fire jetted from his mouth, setting a dozen drakens aflame.

  Fryda cried out for them to stop, but she couldn't be heard above the fighting. She pushed through the drakens. When she finally got to the front, she gasped.

  Naeth had Tursn's neck in her jaws. She tore away, and Tursn's neck burst open. He twitched and then lay still. She collapsed next to him. They were both surrounded by dead drakens.

  Fryda knelt beside Naeth. Everything had happened so quickly. There was nothing Fryda could have done. Despite that, guilt overwhelmed Fryda as she looked upon the carnage.

  Naeth chirped softly. Her eyes were cloudy. She flicked a tongue over her bloodied teeth. "Thank you, Fryda. I wanted vengeance against Elmyra, and you gave me it. But these drakens have nowhere to go. Even if Elmyra is defeated, their elven masters remain."

  Fryda relayed what Naeth had said to Lopyl. Minutes passed as the drakens talked among themselves.

  "We will fly from Dragir," Lopyl said. "Away from our elven masters and away from this wicked place. Our children won't inherit the oath. Better that we raise them outside the clutches of the elves."

  Fryda knelt a final time beside Naeth. Her gaze flicked to Tursn. "I'm sorry you had to kill your brother."

  "When I left this chamber, I saw him. He knew that I was assisting you and the drakens. He said I was going against our kind. That I was helping not only the drakens but someone from Indham, someone who enslaved us and our kin. I told him that you weren't responsible. Nor were the drakens responsible for the manner of their creation—just as he and I weren't responsible for the sins of our forefathers. He couldn't see that."

  "I'm sorry," Fryda said.

  Naeth closed her eyes, and the bulb on her neck ceased throbbing. The forest wyvern was dead.

  Wiping away a tear, Fryda stood.

  "The attackers are in the cave's main shaft," Lopyl said. "I can take you there."

  Fryda's heart raced as she sprinted after Lopyl. The thought of seeing Alfric again spurred her onward, despite the protesting of every bone in her body. Finally, she would be reunited with him. But what would he be like when she found him? Man or monster?

  35

  Alfric

  After the grueling climb while trying to avoid detection, Alfric landed on a stone bridge that led to the dais. There was still no sign of Elmyra or the dragons. Alfric’s stomach tickled with nervousness as Hurn stepped down beside him. Together they hid within the shadows of a narrow inlet in the mountainside.

  “We will wait until Cyne and Bradir take their places,” Hurn said.

  “Can we not just take the dragon soul? It’s right there in the middle of the drakens.”

  “If we try, Elmyra will see us. She’ll have the drakens swarm us. Do you think you could survive the drop?”

  Alfric peered down into the abyss. Even a skinwalker like him wouldn’t be able to survive that fall. The drakens were still throwing themselves into it. Whenever it seemed that the slaughter would end, more of the winged people stepped entered from a narrow doorway on the opposite side of the dais. They stood in straight rows, their faces contorting with terror. Not one of them protested or tried to run. What manner of foul magic could force someone to kill themselves against their will?

  Across the abyss, Bradir signaled.

  “They’re ready,” Alfric said.

  Hurn raised a hand, indicating to Bradir in the manner he’d explained earlier when he’d told them the plan. Two fingers—a sign to continue waiting.

  “Do you think you can open two more rifts?” Hurn said. “I need one now, and you’ll need another to take us all back.”

  Alfric could feel himself growing increasingly weak. Yet he could force himself to open more than one portal. The night had strengthened him. “You fear we will fail,” Alfric whispered. “This rift is your way to escape back to Grimwald.”

  “No,” Hurn said. “I’m going to call for help. I want you to open a rift to the reliquary.”

  Alfric stared into Hurn’s eyes. They were at once elven and yet something else. Inside those black orbs, he saw the elk spirit that shared Hurn’s body. Turning, Alfric opened another portal. It sparked and hummed as a doorway to the reliquary appeared. Chirping filtered into the cave and the imps observed the rift warily.

  “When the last draken falls from the dais,” Hurn said, “I want you to run for the dragon soul. I’ll signal to Bradir and Cyne, and they’ll do the same. I’ll ensure whatever Elmyra throws at you won’t stop you from getting it. As soon as one of takes it from the altar, I want you to open the second rift. Just don’t fall.”

  Alfric swallowed as the final draken plunged to his death. The dragon soul burst with emerald light and hummed with an arcane energy.

  Hurn raised one hand and shoved Alfric with the other. Alfric launched himself forward, bounding on his hands and knees across the bridge. On the other side, Bradir and Cyne began their sprint.

  A hundred dragons sprung out from the cliffs. Their roars filled the cavern. As they descended, fire jetted from their maws. Alfric leaped over one flaming lance and rolled to avoid another, coming with a hair’s breadth of the bridge’s edge.

  Behind him, a chorus of hooting sounded. The winged imps from the reliquary surged out form the rift. They swarmed the dragons, tearing at leather wings and pulling at tails. Not wasting a moment of the distraction, Alfric sprinted the rest of the bridge.

  The dragon soul still glowed within the altar. It emitted a deafening pulse, like a giant’s heart. As Alfric reached for it, he heard a dragon screech. On instinct, he tumbled sideways. Dragonfire consumed the air where his hand had been a moment ago. His eyes widened as the dragonfire bathed the dragon soul.

  Smoke hissed from its surface. A trio of imps attacked the dragon, and the dragonfire stopped. When the smoke cleared, the dragon soul was dull. A second later, it burst with new light, brighter than before.

  Alfric approached it cautiously. While the sounds of battle continued, he put a hand on the jewel. Light pushed through as though his hand was made of glass. With clenched teeth and a great heave, he stripped the dragon soul from the altar.

  On the bridge, a black dragon held Hurn beneath its paw. Elsewhere on the dais, another dragon had ensnared Bradir and Cyne.

  “Open a rift!” Hurn yelled out as he struggled to free himself. “Return the dragon soul to Grimwald. I will find a way back to you.”

  The rest of the dragons suddenly flew upward and perched themselves on
the cliffs above.

  “I can’t leave with you.” He might have left Bradir, or even Cyne, but he couldn’t leave Hurn. The cleansing wouldn’t happen without Hurn.

  “Listen to him,” Bradir said through clenched teeth. “Take it back to Eosor. You’re the general.”

  Alfric looked to Cyne to see what she might suggest, but her gaze settled on something behind him.

  Alfric turned. The most beautiful woman he’d ever seen floated down the shaft. The glowing light of the plants caused her sheer white dress to sparkle. Amethyst dragon wings rocked back and forth, until her feet touched the rock, tiptoes first, with the ease of a dancer.

  She glanced at Alfric and smiled, seeming not to care at all that he held the dragon soul. “You are the one Madrem has called, aren’t you? I suppose the girl was right, at least in some small way. You must have used Madrem’s power to enter the reliquary and take the dragon soul. I witnessed how you can already open rifts with such precision. I think you will be useful. Do not try to open a rift, or I will have the dragons reduce you to cinders.” She tilted her shoulder and giggled, as though that might be something she’d enjoy watching. “We will discuss more later. I must welcome my brother.”

  She strolled over to Hurn with the measured steps of someone who knew they had won.

  "You've come to watch Madrem return to her rightful place," she said. "I suppose that is sufficient reason for turning the hour glass of your life. Twenty years should be more than enough time for you to see the First Empire rise again."

  "Madrem must be freed."

  "You still speak of childish visions," she said. “Have you not learned anything in your solitude? Of course you haven’t. You have only beasts for company. See how your beasts fared against the dragons? They are weak. You are weak.”

  Hurn struggled against the dragon’s claws, yet he couldn’t free himself.

  Elmyra turned to Alfric. Sharp teeth poked through her broad smile. “Give me the dragon soul.”

  “No,” Alfric said. “Not until you let Hurn go.” In truth, he wasn’t intending to give Elmyra the dragon soul at all. He just needed to free Hurn. But what would he do when Hurn was freed? It would take seconds he didn’t have to open a rift to Grimwald.

  “You really wish to free my brother? Are you not aware that he’s been using you? He is so consumed with this foolish cleansing, as he was with all his righteous crusades years ago. Serve me. I will make you a ruler of nations.” She studied Alfric for a moment before shrugging. “So be it. My dragons will burn you now.”

  “No!” Alfric held his shield in front of him and closed his eyes. When no fire came, he opened them again. Peering out from behind his shield, Alfric saw a dragon above him, a ball of fire glowing in its throat. Why hadn’t the dragon followed through with the command?

  Alfric had only a moment to consider why, but it was enough. The dragonfire hadn’t burned the dragon soul earlier, so she wasn’t trying to protect it from harm. He also wasn’t more useful to Elmyra than the dragon soul.

  The pendant warmed in Alfric’s hand, and he felt a foreign presence enter his own. His heart jolted as he prepared himself for the wraith to gain control once more.

  But it didn’t.

  This presence was different. It didn’t share the wraith’s penchant for violence. Alfric concentrated on it, and suddenly he was staring at himself. He was somehow looking through the dragon’s eyes.

  “Give it to me,” Elmyra said through gritted teeth. Sweat beads had formed on her forehead. She no longer looked the beautiful queen. Now, she was an old witch, haggard and desperate. She screamed, and her mouth folded open, from ear to ear. A fireball shot out from her throat and sped toward Alfric.

  He raised his shield and the fireball glanced off of it. Another fireball came, and another. Alfric tried to concentrate on the dragon, to command it to stop her, but all his attention was focused on fending off Elmyra’s fireballs.

  “Take him!” she screamed. “You are my dragons. You serve me. Take him!”

  The dragon soul in Alfric’s hand grew to a scalding heat, but he didn’t let go of it. Somehow, it prevented the dragons from heeding Elmyra’s commands.

  Suddenly, the fireballs stopped. Alfric dropped the shield.

  Hurn had Elmyra by the throat. With a jerk of his wrist, he snapped her neck. Limp, he dropped her. She stared at Alfric with the gaping eyes of the dead.

  As one, the dragons shot upward to the top of the shaft. The ceiling shattered as they hit it. Pebbles fell like mountain rain, and sunlight flooded the Cave of the Sunless. The glowing plants along the cliffs wilted as the light touched them.

  Hurn turned to Alfric. “The dragon soul you hold is not only the first carcaern orb, but it’s also the first suppression stone. With it, you could control a hundred dragons. They served one master for a thousand years, and they do not wish to serve another. That is why they fled your presence. Yet they will never be able to leave Dragir without suffering the curse.”

  He turned away from the abyss, and sighed. "Elmyra was my sister so I do not rejoice in her death. Family, Alfric, are not like friends. They will always be a part of you. Today, some part of me is gone. But we all must make sacrifices for the cleansing."

  Alfric leaped back as a cave dragon landed on the cliff. A rider leaped from its back and rolled. The dragon screeched and snapped its head. Flames fanned from its mouth, engulfing Cyne.

  Cyne leaped for the dragon. The second fireball hit her. Flesh melted before the dragon's flames. As the heat intensified, her bones flaked away. A terrifying screeching echoed throughout the cave as the fire touched the wraith and destroyed it.

  Bradir ran for the dragon. A fireball forced him to dive for cover.

  The dragon turned to Hurn and poured fire from its mouth. Flames enveloped the sorcerer, until he was completely set aflame, yet the dragon was relentless.

  Alfric yelled, “Stop!”

  Immediately, the dragon ceased its firebreathing.

  When the smoke cleared, Hurn was still alive. He crouched, naked and hairless. A tine crumbled into ash as he straightened. "Stardrux," Hurn said. "You seek to stop the cleansing?"

  The dragon bellowed, wind rushing from its mouth and forcing Alfric to grab a nearby boulder for balance. A rider, hidden until now, leaped from its back. Its wings unfolded, stretching the entire breadth of the dais, and it dropped. It vanished below. A thumping sounded, and it appeared again. With the powerful strokes of its leathery wings, it soared above them and out of the cave.

  The rider marched toward Hurn, and Alfric saw a familiar face—Jaruman.

  Jaruman's gaze settled on Alfric, and his eyes widened. "You need to give me the dragon soul. The gods must not return. They will treat us as their playthings, to fight in their games of war."

  "This Madukai wishes to use the dragon soul for himself," Hurn snapped. He held out his hand to Alfric. "Give it to me."

  That wasn't like Jaruman. He'd never been the selfish sort, and what would an innkeeper do with a carcaern orb, anyway?

  In a flash, Hurn was at Jaruman's side. He gripped Jaruman's neck in the crook of his arm and squeezed. Jaruman's eyes rolled to the back of his head, and he went limp.

  Bradir knelt by the pile of ash that had once been Cyne. Tears streamed down his face.

  "Open a rift," Hurn said, dropping Jaruman's unconscious form to the ground. "Take us back to Grimwald."

  "I'm returning here," he said to Hurn. "I have to find Fryda."

  "You may do so," Hurn said. “Return to Grimwald once you have the woman.”

  “And what of him?” Alfric nodded at Jaruman.

  “You may do with him as you wish. Only don’t bring him back. He will not submit to the will of the gods.”

  Closing his eyes, Alfric opened a rift. Leaving the remains of Cyne, Bradir wiped his eyes and accompanied Hurn back to Grimwald.

  Alfric knelt before Jaruman. Why had he said those things about the gods? Did he truly believe them? He had rais
ed Fryda as his daughter, and always been kind. He couldn’t just leave him here. Besides, Fryda wouldn’t allow it. Alfric would have to find a way to help him, but he had to find Fryda first.

  Before Alfric could leave, Jaruman stirred. "I thought you were better than Hiroc. He's being used by a man with hidden intentions, and you've found yourself in a similar predicament with Hurn."

  "I believe in Hurn's plans."

  Jaruman spat. "You know nothing of Hurn's plans. He is a fool. The Guardians were never friends of mankind. If he frees them and they return here, what then? The wraiths are nothing compared to the Guardians." Alfric considered Jaruman's words. There was much Alfric didn't understand about the so-called cleansing. Would it mean humans subjected under the despotic rule of the gods? How was that any different to how humans tortured and enslaved beasts?”

  "You helped Hurn obtain the dragon soul. You have doomed us all. Fryda, included." Jaruman's neck weakened and his head rolled.

  As far as Alfric knew, she was still within that cold cell. If it happened like last time, all he would have to do is concentrate on her.

  "Did you know . . ." Jaruman stopped and licked his lips. "Did you know that she is here, inside the Cave of the Sunless?"

  36

  Fryda

  "There it is." Lopyl pointed to a doorway. "The shaft is through there."

  Fryda held her breath and entered.

  What she saw tore her heart to shreds.

  A skinwalker stood on the dais. Golden hair covered his entire body, except for three hairless slashes across his face.

  She ran toward him, before he could turn, she leaped to embrace him.

  "Alfric," Fryda said through the tears.

  "Fryda." His voice was different, muffled and deeper. But it was his voice. This was her Alfric.

  She wiped her running nose. "How?"

  "There will be time for answers. For now, we must leave here. Elmyra is dead."