“Master, we don’t know how to take her magic yet. We know she holds it but it doesn’t drain from her blood. I, myself have slit her arm and drained a bowl of her blood. It did nothing for the dragons. It must be gathered another way.” Beads of sweat pepper his forehead as he raises a shaven head with swaying braids to look at his Master.
Kuztem heaves forward from his throne and pushes a flat palm towards the sorcerer, who tumbles like a loose leaf through the opening of the grand tent. Kuztem marches to the swaying panels of silk and points to the younger man sprawled out before him.
“You have two days to find the answer or kill her. We can’t afford her teaching Dragon Magic to other dragons.” With those words, he stomps back into the tent.
Baltunne rises, dusting the sand from the silver dragon emblazoned pants that balloon around his legs as he walks. Overhead a star skittles across the night sky. He groans. An omen. He is certain of it, just as he was certain the dragons amongst whom the coppery-haired female lived, have magic. Her magic is too strong to have come from one dragon alone.
Peering through the opening of the tent, the glass canister of Nightfall bugs twinkles blue light around the sleeping girl. A purple and yellow scorpion scurries across her arm. She never flinches. The smoke from the bowl coalesces in a heavy fog above her. Baltunne closes the drape over the opening and strides away to his tent. He alone knew there’d be no way of draining her Dragon Magic. He’d learned how to control her mind. And with that, he could control her magic. He’d determined within himself that Kuztem would never own the power. Thus Baltunne stays safe to keep his prestigious role of leader of the Xi sorcerers. The Master shall achieve nothing without him. He sneers a sickly, yellow-toothed smile.
The morning breaks already hot and sultry, the bleeding red sun sending piercing shards over the dunes. They’d set up camp out in the desert, away from their homeland, deep in the tropical vegetation three days march to the north. If they’ve been followed, it’s far better to be in a place where one can see attackers coming.
Baltunne steps out into the sun, staring at the tent where they’ve kept the stolen girl. He prefers to think of her as an outcast from her people. Perhaps none have missed her and her dragon. She does appear far different from the people they’d met before returning home.
He had found the land of strange magic, a magic seeping from the bones of fallen dragons piled in a mound nearly as large as the palace Kuztem rules. There’d been a recent battle there. The burnt corpses of trees still stand watch over the barren land of black ground and sun-bleached bones. He had worked for days trying to drain the magic from the bones, but the bones would not hear his commands. It was a pivotal accident that he spied her and the dragon as they made their way back to the Gateway. He smelled her magic. It smelled of rain and laughing flowers. He almost regretted taking her. Almost.
She had been kind and came to them full of curiosity. It was the dragons that drew her near, their eastern dragons being far different from the one near her. He’d felt the blue dragon in a high rate of agitation, ready to scorch them all. He’d immediately numbed the blue dragon’s mind as he worked on subduing the girl. After only a few hours he was able to route his own wishes over hers to control both her and the dragon, to follow them through the Gateway. He bent her will to his own. She’ll stay nothing more than a shell for him to use as he wishes… and only him. She’ll be his weapon. Master Kuztem won’t like it. This makes Baltunne happy. Whatever he wants, Kuztem will have to give him, otherwise his conquest of new lands will never happen.
A slight breeze stirs the silk partition on the tent’s entrance. He flings it away and enters her tent finding an exhilaration that she still sleeps in the deep sleep brought from the nectar of the flowers and the powder that has burned through the night. He slips next to her, grazing her pale cheek with the long nail of his index finger. He raises his hand and slaps her. Her breathing stays deep, even as the print of his hand raised against her flesh turns a hot pink in color. He grins and shouts words to the outside guards. They rapidly retreat to do as he’s asked.
The first guard opens the draped entrance. Baltunne motions him forward with the large chalice. He sets the chalice on the small, low table and backs out. The leader of the Xi slowly raises his hands over the girl. She sits up on her pallet of furs. He lifts the chalice to her lips. The bubbling blue liquid dribbles down her lips and chin. Slowly he pries her jaws open and forces a swallow of the liquid in her mouth. She gulps it reflexively and coughs. Tilting her head backwards, he sloshes in a mouthful, watching her swallow it before she coughs the remainder out. A slow half-smile cuts into his face.
He waits. The pale girl opens her eyes, blinking slowly but looking neither to her right or left. “Stand.” Baltunne’s voice commands authority. She stands.
“What is your name?”
Still staring straight ahead, she answers. “Elky.”
“Elky, it is time to awaken your dragon. Remember, you were lost. My people saved you. You have no others. You will be honored amongst my people, and have a place of honor as we go into battle.”
They stand and walk out. Ustice has no chains on him. He simply lays in the sand, his head upon his front limb, asleep.
“Tell your dragon to awake.”
She walks to his side and replies, “Awaken, dragon.”
Ustice lifts a heavy head, his eyes still closed under scaled lids.
“Elky, saddle your dragon. We will return to our land and prepare for a journey.”
She gives two quick nods. “Dragon, stand.” She waits as Ustice rises and opens his eyes. She cinches the straps under him and clambers up his scales, slipping the harness over her shoulders. Her face holds no emotions, no wonder, no smiles. She sits as if a stone on the saddle.
Baltunne smiles, gratified.
Before the sun can rise at its zenith, the tents are down and loaded upon the dragons. These dragons are slithering in bright colors: reds, golds and silvers.
There was a time, Baltunne recalls hearing, their dragons once held magic. What had happened, was never taught. The only magic they retain is the Magic of Flight. They are the wingless dragons, with smooth shimmering bodies that dance across the sky similar to how the desert snakes dance across the dunes. They’re magnificent to watch airborne, yet they have their limitations. They are unable to carry much, for their bodies weren’t made to carry beings or burdens. Therefore it takes more dragons to make their journeys and carry the things necessary for battle.
Kuztem is placated by seeing Elky under control of the Xi, but he yearns for more. If he could take her Dragon Magic, he could control more men and battles, not to mention making his dragons the envy of kingdoms he has yet to conquer.
Elky is surrounded by wind-writhing dragons as she and Ustice fly in the center of the cluster. The Xi dragons snort plumes of smoke, rumbling deep in their bellies at the foreign dragon. He flies with only small undulations caused by the flapping of his wings. He is regarded as peculiar and obsolete. Their kind has never needed to use skin flaps to move from here to there. In their view, the world will be better without such obsolete dragons.
By evening, the dragons of the Xi become more excited. Their bodies make long winding ribbons as they fly over the outside rim of heavy vegetation. They are in home territory.
During the hours of non-stop flight, something frays loose in Ustice’s mind. A small pebble that sends ripples from one corner to another. He feels… something. Something like a memory. Just as it arrived, it dissipates like dew on the grass. He flies on.
Stars sparkle over them as the dragons dive into the clearing. The jungle pushes back to reveal a palace where Master Kuztem lives. It is extravagant with its multileveled rooftops curving upward at their four corners. Gargantuan ramparts loom around the palace, and the smaller dwellings scattered within.
Once landed, Master Kuztem enters his palace and dismisses the Xi for the remainder of the evening. He seeks the heated baths within the pala
ce to loosen his aching muscles from long flight.
To the rest of the Kingdom, he is King Kuztem. Only the Xi call him Master… at his own insistence. Many kingdoms have kings, but none of those could be called Master over the Xi. It is a festering sore to Baltunne. The Xi had once called him the Master. At one time, there could be no one elevated higher than himself. The thought would have been absurd.
Baltunne leads Elky and her dragon to a separate place near the eastern walls. There he places her in a dwelling and plants a suggestion to find the pallet and sleep. She walks in a trance through the torch lit enclosure… and at once, lays herself down to sleep. Outside the dwelling are beautiful pools filled with water lilies, but next to the structure it is open and planted in soft moss. It is the perfect place for Elky’s dragon to sleep. Baltunne asserts an enchantment. The dragon goes down, curling his tail next to his limbs, and falls into a deep sleep.
Baltunne strides away to fall upon his bed. A tinkling of the bell next to his bed brings two dark haired beauties in to undress him and climb into his furs. Even though he no longer carries the verbal title of Master of the Xi, memories outlast titles. The people of the Kingdom know his importance—and his abilities. There is nothing he lacks that he desires.
Chapter 6
Eyes stir beneath scaled lids. Even with the heavy fog pressing down on Ustice’s mind, he feels troubled. There is something he’s trying to catch, that flutters just out of his mind’s reach. It nibbles at him like an insect repeatedly stinging him in a place he can’t reach. Deep inside he knows there is a missing thought that he desperately wants to grasp. The harder he searches, the more pained his mind becomes… to the point his head aches like long swords being thrust inside. He finally gives up and lets sleep engulf him.
In the pre-dawn hours, a stirring takes place. A breeze trickles through the tropical forest. The moss awakes and blooms with petite white flowers no larger than white footed ants. This magic would have gone unnoticed, had it not been for the crescent moon glimmering above, sending its silver fragments to heighten the exchange.
As the moss blooms, it excretes a light scent of vanilla, sweetly weaving the aromatic tendrils next to Ustice. His large nares twitch. The scent drives up through channels, twisting a pathway. It fills the sleeping dragon with its magic.
None have recently known the magic of the moss. None remember seeing its almost undetectable blooms. It’s an old form of moss brought into the kingdom centuries before, when there were no high ramparts and only the lowliest of dwellings. Being tenacious, the moss clings to the faintest of soils with long, slender roots plunging deep and growing laterally to keep its place in the soil. Only the light of the crescent moon in the Season of Laetyne enchants the moss to bloom. It is this night the blooms burst forth.
The Xi, having been in power and existence for just under a hundred years have no knowledge of the moss blooms, nor indeed of the strange magic inherent in it. Magic needs no recognition to do its work. It simply exists.
For the sleeping dragon, it could not have been more timely. His breathing deepens. His eyelids flutter. The shackles of fog silently slip away. He raises his head and glances about, unsettled to find himself in strange territory. Thankful he wasn’t bound, he slowly stretches his limbs testing their strength.
Nowhere in his vision can he see Elky, yet his heart tells him she is near. Perhaps in the dwelling next to him? Yes, he feels her steady heartbeat. He calls to her from his mind and waits. No response. He calls again, this time pleading for her to awaken and come to him. Nothing.
A droning noise buzzes around Ustice. All around him miniscule gnats buzz, darting from flower to flower. Within minutes the blooms wilt and fall away to be carried off by the wind.
Instinct set in. Ustice knows they are in strange surroundings. Even though Elky didn’t respond to him, he feels the rhythm of her heartbeat. She has to be in the dwelling next to him. He stays where he is, quietly dropping his head back to the ground, letting his eyes dart around for clues. It doesn’t take long. Someone approaches from a dwelling up ahead with a torch held high in one hand, moving towards him. As the sound of steps crunch across the gravel, he closes his eyes and holds still, slowing his breathing.
He feels the man standing in front of him. The light of the torch moves around him, studying him. And then it disappears. Ustice hears the door of the dwelling squeak open and close. His senses are on high alert. He listens, in case Elky needs him. It doesn’t take long for the door to again open and close. The man walks away.
Small memories fall into place. He’s seen these people before. They’re the ones with strange wingless dragons, the humans with shaved heads except for the braids that fall from the crowns of their heads. But why did they bring Elky and himself here? He has no recollection of arriving to this place, but he knows he’s never seen such a place before. There is no scent of the sea, no lingering salt in the air. This is as far from the Spires as a dragon can be.
Ustice tries again to reach Elky, since the man has left. Every time he tries, a stabbing pain pierces his mind. A low rumble stirs his belly fires. For Elky to be so close, they had to have done something to block her from hearing him. That is unheard of with a star-bond. It can only be a spell, he reasons. Understanding their situation makes it clearer why he has no remembrance of how they got to this land. If he plays along, maybe in time he can reach her and make for their escape. Plumes of smoke rise above his snout, as he lays waiting.
Low, gray clouds hang over the kingdom as morning breaks, bringing a haze. Ustice listens intently to the sound of pounding feet across the gravel. He stays still as if he still slept. It’s difficult to do with so many sounds. He knows they will come to them soon. And there it is, the crunching of gravel leading to the house in which Elky is evidently held. Still the commotion rages around him. He feels swirling in the air overhead. Their dragons must be returning to them. He figures that must mean they will be leaving soon.
Voices cut through the wind in a foreign tongue. Not aware of what’s being said, he can still tell they’re agitated and in a great hurry. The door to the dwelling bangs open and slams shut. The scent of Elky is very close.
“Awake dragon.” It’s her voice, but delivered by a force that isn’t his Elky.
He opens his eyes, concentrating on staring straight ahead. His excellent peripheral vision allows him to see the same man standing next to her that had looked on her during the night.
“Elky, you will saddle your dragon and prepare to leave. We have intruders coming towards our kingdom. They want to kill you and your dragon but we will keep you safe. You must protect us as we protect you. Do you understand?”
“I understand.”
“What can you do to help us?”
“Use my magic. I can protect your dragons. I can make it hard for the enemy to see you.”
“Ah. Very good, Elky. Prepare your dragon and I will join you in a few moments. Do not leave this area until I come for you, understood?”
“Yes. I understand.”
Baltunne turns and runs towards the center courtyard where the dragons are assembled. He yells out instructions for his sorcerers to hurry, a battle awaits them.
Fire in Ustice’s belly roils. With all the commotion, he speaks aloud to Elky, for the man has left them.
“Elky, wake up. Hurry. We can leave before they return to have us turn against our own.”
It’s as if no words have been spoken. She goes on cinching the straps around him, oblivious to his speaking. After he’s saddled, Elky climbs his sides and rests in the saddle. His limbs tense, ready for flight. Above him the wind spirals carrying at least thirty to forty dragons with strange warriors astride.
Baltunne calls out, “Elky, fly up front with me. Send your magic over the dragons that protect you. We must meet the intruders away from our kingdom.”
Elky gives one nod. “Arise, dragon. We fly.”
Ustice rises, guiding himself and Elky to the front line. He feels
the tingling of magic spread around them as she shields the dragons and possibly covers the new warriors with invisibility. He was not ready for this, to battle against their kind. Even if he turns to flame as many dragons as he can, he knows it would come to no good end. They’re already shielded. He’s stuck just like Elky.
Ustice roves his eyes, afraid to turn his head to the side, lest people know their hold on him is limited. The strange dragons around him move in awkward up and down undulations. They are more like long lizards than wingless dragons. He sorely wants to take a sizable chunk out of their slithering hides. He bites back the flame itching to burst forth, knowing he must bide his time. He mustn’t do anything to jeopardize Elky. At least the riders of the dragons in front of them aren’t invisible. Thank the Dragon of Evermore! If the warriors don’t know they carry no protection, maybe his friends can turn this battle.
Cresting the security of the kingdom, their heading moves south, back to where mountains of sand remove hiding places. Ustice keeps sending messages to the dragons of the Spires but no one answers his call. He grows increasingly concerned for Elky’s safety. He has to make sure they know Elky isn’t acting of her own will. Could it be they still have a spell block on his mind to impair his communications with his own? He fights everything within him to not turn and see the man controlling Elky. Feeling the darker magic sizzle around them, he can only hope it stems from that one man rather than the whole group charging off to meet their invaders. His soul knows it has to be those from the Spires. They would have missed them by now and searched for them. But how they could have tracked them to this strange land, he has no idea.
It is as if they chase the sun and are losing the fight. Ustice tires and a great thirst is ever present, yet they never stop. The sky turns into flashes of reds and oranges. Now it’s a bruise spread across the horizon outlining thunderous clouds crackling with lightning.
The Spires of Dasny: 2: Queen of Dragons Page 3
