“Where have you been?” he attempted to growl, but the words died on his tongue as he saw her face.
“Only the girl made it to this side of the river, and there are signs a dragon landed where she came ashore. Large claw marks and fallen trees. Her tracks head east, but I’m afraid there may be a dragon on her trail.”
“There was no sign of the boy at all?” Alastair asked.
“No. I think he may have drowned, or been taken by the dragon. Do you know who he was?”
“No, he is another mystery. We’ll have to ask when we find her. Let’s go. If the dragons find her first…” there was no need to finish the sentence.
They pushed on, Inken in the lead, until they met up with Enala’s trail. From there Inken rode hunched forward, eyes to the ground. She said little, concentration etched across her face, though it was obvious Enala was no longer bothering to hide her trail. She had left clear footprints in the soft ground and crushed undergrowth in her wake.
Eric could understand Inken’s concern. Enala may have assumed no one would follow her into land ruled by the dragons. Yet from everything they had seen so far, it seemed uncharacteristically reckless. Was she running from something, or had the loss of her companion been the final blow to her sanity? The devastation this girl had suffered in the last week would be enough to break the toughest psyche.
His eyes swept the forest as they rode, his hands tense on the reins. The trees grew in size as they ventured deeper into Dragon Country, towering over the wary trespassers. Massive tree trunks dominated the forest this side of the river, untouched by the axes of man. The canopy grew higher and higher, blotting out the sun and stunting the undergrowth beneath. The temperatures fell as they climbed from the river valley.
They made good time, following Enala’s weaving path through the giant trunks. Even so, the last light of the evening had begun to fade when Inken drew back suddenly on her reins. She leapt from the horse, dropping to hands and knees to inspect the earth.
“Stay back!” she warned.
Eric swiped at a buzzing insect, anxious at the panic in Inken’s voice. He glanced at the forest around them, searching for movement. The undergrowth was still. There was not even a breeze to stir the leaves beneath the canopy.
Then he noticed the first signs of disturbance. A crushed fern close to the trail. Bark scraped from nearby trees. Broken branches and claw marks in the soft earth. Something big had crossed Enala’s path. Heart sinking, he glanced up and saw the hole in the canopy.
“No, no, no!” Inken hissed. “Where did she go? She’s disappeared. It can’t be!”
Eric dismounted and moved to Inken’s side. He placed a hand on her shoulder. She turned to face him, tears in her eyes.
“She’s gone.”
Twenty One
The words hung in the air, damning, irrefutable. Enala was gone, and with her, the last hope they had of saving themselves. Their mission had failed before it even began. Eric held Inken tight to him, unable to find the words.
“It’s over,” Caelin whispered.
Above the leaves rustled in the evening breeze, but beneath the air was still, dead. A horse snorted, pawing at the ground. They did not like the smells here. From the distance came the crash of an animal in the undergrowth, too small to be a dragon.
Eric looked at his companions and saw their despair. Inken slumped against him, all life fled from her face. There were tears in the eyes of Michael and Caelin. Only the two Magickers managed to hide their emotion behind blank faces.
Without even meeting her, Enala had become the centre of their lives. She was the princess they were destined to rescue, crushed by the harsh reality of the world. This perilous land had claimed her. Might claim them too, if they did not leave soon.
“We have to go back,” Eric’s voice was almost unrecognisable.
The words struck a chord. Inken winced in his arms and a cloud swept over Caelin’s face. Were they truly willing to admit defeat?
“No,” Alastair resolved. “We can’t give up. Not all the tribes are violent and one may even remain loyal to the kings of men. We must try asking for their help.”
No one replied, though Eric wondered whether Alastair had cracked himself. He could not muster any hope from the idea, but did not have the strength to argue with the old man.
“What do you want us to do?” he asked.
“The Gold’s nest on the coast. They would not have been in this area – the Red or Blues would have found her first,” Inken’s reply was laced with misery.
“No matter the chances, we have to try. There is no future without Enala,” Alastair pressed. “Not for us, or anyone else.”
Inken shivered. “You know the tales of the coast.”
Alastair nodded. “I lived them. That was where the old king Thomas was lost. In Malevolent Cove.”
“We would not have to go there, though?” Caelin asked.
“It would be the closest point,” Inken answered. “To go around it would take an extra day.”
“The place is cursed, no good will come from there,” Michael offered.
“Fortunes can be changed, even from ill luck. And an extra day spent in Dragon Country has its own dangers. It is a risk I am willing to take,” Alastair insisted. “But it is up to each of you whether you want to follow.”
“We can’t abandon her,” Eric echoed Inken’s words from the night before. Beside him, Inken nodded.
Balistor and Caelin agreed.
Eric looked to Michael. His face was stark with fear, indecision etched across his lips. He still wore the green robes of his order, but this was no place for a priest.
“Elynbrigge asked me to help you, and so I will. But I still think this is folly. The girl is gone.”
Alastair closed his eyes and they all saw the doubt there. “I cannot give up hope, Michael. I have searched for too long to surrender now. I will not believe it until I see with my own two eyes.”
After that, there was nothing left to say.
******************
Firelight flickered across the clearing, casting deep shadows between the surrounding tree trunks. They had left behind the humid valley, climbing back into the cool autumn air. A breeze blew across the open grass, the long blades bending in its wake. The fire barely kept the chill at bay. A pot sat over the flames, a thick stew bubbling inside. A sombre silence had enveloped the fellowship.
Caelin finished chopping potatoes and flicked them into the pot. Eric sat watching, stomach growling as he breathed in the rich fumes. A hot meal would be a welcome change. Balistor had lit the fire when they finally stopped for the night. No one bothered to disagree with the decision. They were all sick of caution.
Eric glanced at the stars glistening in a rich tapestry above. He hoped dragons were not creatures of the night. Darkness had fallen soon after they started out again. No one wanted to risk injuring their horses out here, so they had been forced to make camp in a clearing Balistor had discovered nearby.
“Here, Eric,” he looked up as Caelin offered him a bowl. “And one for you too, my lady,” he grinned at Inken.
They accepted the offering with a word of thanks. Eric took a slow sip, enjoying the heat of the spices Caelin had added. A satisfying warmth spread through his stomach, bracing him against the night air.
When they finished he handed back the bowl and glanced at Inken. She sat staring into the trees, thoughts hidden by a grim mask. Her bowl was still half-full, the spoon dangling loosely from her fingers.
Eric put an arm round her waist. “What are you thinking?”
Inken blinked and looked at him “Sorry? I was lost in my thoughts.”
Eric kissed her. “I know the feeling. What were you thinking?”
She sighed. “Eric, do you really believe she is alive?”
His good humour evaporated. “Truthfully? No. Her tracks are gone and there were signs of a dragon everywhere.”
“So we’re chasing a ghost now. Why?”
&
nbsp; Eric gazed into her eyes, feeling oddly at peace “Because we don’t have any other choice. Without her, he’s already won.”
“You’re almost as stubborn as the old man, you know,” she looked out into the trees again. “Come on, there’s something I want to show you.”
“What is it?”
“I found it earlier, when I was searching for firewood. You’ll like it. Come on!” she stood, pulling him to his feet.
Eric struggled to stand, still exhausted from the days ride. The movement pulled his stitches tight, but he tried to ignore them. Riding had taken its toll and all he really wanted to do was sleep, but Inken was tugging at his hand and there was no choice but to follow.
She led him into the trees, away from the others. They watched them go, grins on their faces. “There goes the cute couple again,” Caelin teased.
Eric blushed, glad his back was turned to them. When they entered the trees, he hesitated, pulling her back.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
He gave sad smile. “It’s not safe out here; we shouldn’t be going off alone.
Inken’s breath hissed between her teeth. He thought she would argue; instead, she stalked past him and back towards the fire. Eric winced and made to follow.
Inken glanced back. “Stay there! I’ll be back in a second.”
She jogged into the camp, gathered her gear and ran back. Now she carried her bow strung over her shoulder and wore her cavalry sabre at her side.
“Happy now?” she teased.
Eric gave a quick nod, knowing this was the best he would get. It seemed they were going into the woods, whether he liked it or not. Inken shot him a mischievous smirk. She took his hand again and dragged him into the darkness.
He stumbled after her, tripping over the root-riddled earth in the pitch black beneath the trees. He could just make out the dim outline of Inken in front of him; the rest of the forest was invisible. The warmth of her hand in his own was reassuring. She glanced back occasionally, her teeth flashing as she smiled.
Twice Eric almost fell, kept on his feet only by Inken’s quick hands. The forest was hazardous in the dark, though Inken managed it far better than him. He kept his ears open, listening for the first signs of trouble. Only the soft hoot of an owl was audible above their own racket.
When they finally emerged from the trees, Eric was puffing and holding his injured side. The pain vanished when he saw where Inken had brought him. His mouth dropped, a gasp escaping him.
The giant trees opened up onto a patch of low-lying ferns. A soft glow spread across the clearing, lit by fern leaves shining in the dark, their gentle luminance banishing the night. Tiny insects buzzed between them, and these too radiated with light. A creek threaded its way through the clearing, the currents playing a warm melody against the coarse pebble bed. Steam rose from the running water, leaving a thin fog hovering at eye level. A sweet, rosy scent carried on the air.
“There was only a faint glow when I found it. I thought you might like it,” Inken spoke in a voice hushed with wonder.
“It’s… it’s beautiful,” he had no other words.
Inken turned to him. The scarlet curls of her hair ablaze in the light. She took his hand and drew him further into the ferns. They sat beside the stream, face to face, arms around one another, savouring the closeness of their bodies and the warmth of their skin.
“Eric, I… I want to ask you something,” she paused.
He leaned forward, reaching up to stroke her face. Her eyes closed at his touch. She shivered.
“What?” he breathed.
“What do you want, Eric? What are your dreams?”
The question took him by surprise. He looked away. What do I want? The question had never really mattered before, not for a long time.
“I don’t know,” he realised at that moment how tragic it was. “I guess to help Alastair…”
Inken reached up and entwined her fingers in his hair. She turned him to face her. “There must be something more. You had a life once, before the magic. I know it. What did that Eric want?”
He closed his eyes, unable to meet her fiery gaze.
“He was lost a long time ago.”
“I know that’s not true. When you were in that trance, I saw him. A man untouched by your curse. Now, what do you want, Eric?”
He thought back, trying to remember the boy he had once been, to remember a time before his magic awakened. It seemed a part of someone else’s life now, too innocent to be his own. The memories took a long time to surface. Inken waited.
“I wanted to be a carpenter,” he laughed.
Inken rested her forehead against his. “Do you still want that?”
“I don’t know…” he hesitated.
Inken kissed him. “Go on.”
Eric drew a shuddering breath. “I want to be normal. To finish this business and start a new life. But if we cannot find Enala, what is the point? Archon will tear the world apart.”
“There is always a point, Eric. Life is a fickle thing and it must be lived. Archon will attack, or he won’t. It is no different to the farmer whose livelihood depends on the weather. He knows he may be ruined one day by a drought or a storm, but he battles on anyway. True bravery means pursuing what you want, no matter the obstacles. The world may end tomorrow, but what matters is what we do with the time we have left. Otherwise, we are already lost.”
Eric felt a warm fluttering in his chest as she spoke. However, there was still a weight within him. “I can’t put the past aside so easily. That nightmare is an anchor dragging me down. I cannot move on until I have redeemed myself.”
“And you think saving Enala will do that?”
Eric nodded.
“Oh Eric,” she hugged him. “I think you have already redeemed yourself. You are learning to control you power, are doing all you can to prevent the past repeating. And you used it to heal Chole. What more can you do?”
“I don’t know, but it’s not enough.”
Inken sighed. “I understand. Maybe there isn’t anything you can do to put those ghosts to bed. But you also have to live, Eric.”
“I know. And there’s something else I want, you know.”
“Oh really?”
“I want you, Inken.”
She stood, eyes locked to his. “Well I’m right here, Eric Storm. So come and get me,” she teased, walking backwards towards the stream. As she moved she pulled off her leather jacket, then the shirt beneath. Her leggings quickly followed. She stood there grinning, wearing nothing but the soft curves of her sun touched skin.
“What are you doing?” he asked, eyes feasting.
“Going for a swim,” she grinned. “This stream is fed by a hotspring. Are you going to join me?”
Eric sprung to his feet and followed her into the steaming waters.
******************
They lay wrapped in each other’s arms, eyes closed, the hot water streaming over their naked bodies. Neither had spoken for some time, each lost in their own dreams. A quiet tranquillity had settled over the clearing, as though the world beyond the glowing ferns no longer existed.
A roar shattered the calm. Inken reacted instantly, leaping up the bank, scrambling for her sword and bow. Eric followed, eyes racking the canopy overhead. The bellow came again, from behind them. The camp!
They clambered desperately into their clothes and took off towards the campsite. The darkness fed their panic, the screams from ahead driving them onwards. Each time Eric stumbled, Inken was at his side, helping him up, pushing him on. They raced through the trees, straining to hear, to see what was happening.
Inken emerged first, exploding from the undergrowth into the long grass. Eric arrived a second later, arms raised to protect himself from the low branches. He slammed into Inken’s back and almost knocked them both to the ground before he caught himself.
They were just in time. The others stood in the centre of the clearing, weapons at the ready, eyes locked to the sky. F
lames leapt across the long grass, dwarfing their tiny campfire. Eric looked up and saw a flash of red as something huge passed across the moon. Flames glittered on scales.
Then the beast was hurtling towards them, the sky erupting in flames, revealing the dragon. Fire licked from jaws large enough to swallow a horse. Bloody fangs flickered in and out of sight. The black orbs of its eyes swept the clearing, lingering on the group of men who dared to trespass here.
It crashed to the ground. The earth shook with the impact, flinging them from their feet. The horses screamed and the thunder of their fleeing hooves echoed in the darkness. Eric spun to protect his wound. He stared up at the beast in horror.
Its massive hide filled half the clearing. It crouched on all fours, claws raking out grooves deep enough to bury a man. Giant wings splayed out on either side, blacking out the moon. Its tail flickered out like a snake. It stunk of blood and guts, of death and despair. A blast of hot air struck Eric like a furnace as it turned towards them, tongue sliding out to taste the air. Its scales were the darkest red.
It roared again, fire gushing from its mouth. The grass burst into flames. Inken dragged him back, the heat swamping them. There came a whoosh as the ground caught alight.
Across the clearing, Alastair stepped away from his companions. His cloak spun out behind him, the air shimmering with his magic. His hand swept down. Eric felt the power surging through the air, driving a dull throb into the back of his skull.
The Red dragon shrieked as the magic struck, picking up the beast and flinging it into the trees. The ancient trunks groaned at the impact, toppling backwards beneath the dragon’s bulk. The monster thrashed, limbs tearing at earth and wood. The great wings flapped. It bounded into the air and began to circle.
The night shook with the dragon’s roar. It folded its wings and dove, fire gushing from its mouth. The trees burst into flames as it swept past. The inferno raced across the grass towards their companions.
Alastair arced out his arms, flinging the blaze back upon itself. Burning wood crackled amidst the flames. Smoke drifted across the clearing, blinding them. Eric bent over, chocking on the acrid air. He backed away, straining to hear the whip of the dragons wings over the rumbling flames.
Stormwielder (The Sword of Light Trilogy Book 1) Page 23
