by Terry Brooks
Ahead, the sun was dropping toward the horizon, and its rays were bathing the slopes of the mountains and the rippled surface of the foothills in shimmering gold.
Then she heard the first faint sounds of the battle she had come to find and, shouting into the wind, she urged the dragon to go faster.
SQUINTING INTO THE BLAZE of sunlight west from out of the blackness of the shadowed corridors of Aphalion Pass, Xac Wen stared in disbelief. He had seen what was flying toward him, and he still couldn’t believe it. He knew it was the dragon—that it had to be the dragon—yet he still kept waiting for it to be something else.
Then it screamed, and right then and there Xac Wen quit trying to find reasons not to believe. That was a dragon, all right! He began yelling wildly for Tasha and Tenerife. He didn’t know where they were or even where he was at this point. Around him, the battle had come to a standstill while the participants stared at the phenomenon overhead.
Then, abruptly, impossibly, Xac Wen saw something else.
“Shades!” he whispered to himself.
He looked again, harder this time, making certain of what he was seeing.
“Tasha!” he cried out anew, repeating the name over and over until all at once the larger of the Orullian brothers was yanking him about by the front of his tunic.
“Quiet down, you little banshee!” The big man was streaked with dirt and blood and his face was a mask of rage. He shook the boy for good measure. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Look!” He pointed skyward. “Do you see it?”
“I see it. It’s that dragon again. As if we needed something else to deal with.”
“No, not the dragon! Look closer. Up by its head!”
Tasha squinted into the glare of the sunset, his hand slowly loosening its grip on the boy’s tunic.
“Phryne,” he breathed softly. “That’s Phryne!”
THE ELVEN PRINCESS WAS PLASTERED against the dragon’s neck, one hand gripping the leather belt, the other using the Elfstones to guide the beast. But now that she had reached her destination, she wasn’t sure what she should do. The near end of the pass was clogged with Trolls marching forward in tight ranks and rolling up Elven defensive lines that were already shredded. Farther into the pass, all the way back to the wide place where she had first seen the dragon, the Elves were forming up anew. Why they were doing that and not making for the safety of the defensive wall at the far end of the pass where they would find some measure of protection was a mystery. She watched other Elven Hunters rush forward to reinforce those already engaged and realized they meant to make a stand. It was a futile, hopeless effort against what was coming at them. They would all be massacred.
Then someone below saw the dragon and everyone stopped and stared at it. Arms lifted, fingers pointed, and shouts and cries rose in confusion and wonder. This was her chance. If she could separate Drouj and Elves, if she could force their armies to back away from each other, the battle might be broken off and the attack halted.
She directed the dragon downward, seeking Tasha and Tenerife, and found them. She flew toward them, and as she did so the dragon screamed. She couldn’t tell at first why he did that after being silent all this time, her concentration on controlling the dragon’s dive and holding on to her perch. Then arrows began whizzing past, and she realized they were being fired on.
Momentarily frightened for her mount, she shifted the blue light skyward once more, and the dragon wheeled back toward the outland end of the pass. She could see Troll bowmen and slingers firing their missiles at her, trying to bring the dragon down. She almost laughed, it was such a futile effort.
Ignoring them, she flew the dragon back the way she had come and out over the open foothills beyond, then swung him around, her decision about what to do made. When she had the beast flying in the right direction, she quit using the Elfstones for guidance and summoned the magic for an attack.
It was a new experience. She had not tried this before, although Mistral had said it was possible. But she imagined the effort required would be the same. So she gathered her thoughts, set her mind to accomplishing what was needed, and conjured the Elfstone magic. Prepared, she waited until she was almost on top of the front ranks of the Drouj army and then commanded the Elfstone fire to strike.
Except that the result was not what she had hoped. She had thought she’d mastered the magic and could command it now. But while the Drouj ranks split apart and scattered at the dragon’s approach, the Elfstone fire failed to materialize. She tried summoning it again and again, keeping up her efforts for as long as she could manage. But after only a few minutes she could feel her strength failing.
Seconds later, the few shards of Elven fire she had managed to conjure died out completely.
She experienced a rush of dismay and anger. She was too weak! She was too unpracticed! She hadn’t used the Elfstones enough to learn how to master their power, and so now she had nothing left to call upon to use against the Drouj.
Then she remembered from Mistral’s teachings that the Elfstone magic could only be used to protect against other magic, and the Drouj commanded none.
That might have been the end of things if not for the dragon. Having reached his own conclusions about what was needed, he took control. He might have been responding to her commands earlier, guided by the Elfstones, but she no longer had use of the blue light to rein him in. Screaming as if he had gone mad, he dived almost vertically toward the opening of the pass, body stretched out and wings folded close. Phryne felt her heart go straight to her throat. The dragon was attacking. She might have wanted to stop him, but there was nothing she could do now but hang on and hope.
The dragon reached the opening to the pass and breathed fire into the Trolls gathered there—a fire that was a hundred times more devastating than what Phryne had been able to conjure with the Elfstones—incinerating dozens before lifting away at the last minute to soar back into the sky. But he wasn’t finished. Flying ahead between the peaks and cliffs, he found his way down the defile to where the front ranks of the Drouj had re-formed almost on top of the Elven defensive lines and attacked a second time. Fire sprayed everywhere, making no distinction between Elf and Troll. Phryne was screaming at the dragon, trying to stop him from including the Elves in his assault. But the dragon saw only enemies, all of them trying to hurt him (or perhaps her), and he burned them all.
As the beast broke off his attack and swept skyward again, she had just a moment to glance down and see that before the dragon struck the Troll ranks had already driven the Elves from the wide spot in the pass back into the narrows so that most of those caught out in the open were Drouj.
Most, but not all.
She wondered suddenly about Tasha and Tenerife, always at the forefront of every effort.
She closed her eyes in dismay, and then quickly opened them again. She had to stop this. She had to take back control of the dragon before any more Elves died. What had seemed like a good idea was turning out to be a bad one. If she couldn’t make the dragon confine his attack to the Trolls, she had to find another way.
Panterra was right. She had assumed things she had no right assuming. She had believed she could make the dragon bring her to Aphalion and do her bidding solely because she had possession of the Elfstones. But no magic could do everything, and none of it was predictable. She had been told as much by Mistral. Yet in her haste and in her determination to do something, she had ignored her grandmother’s words.
Now her people were paying the price for her foolish and reckless disregard.
And suddenly, just like that, she knew what she had to do.
She steeled herself for what was needed, calling up the Elfstone magic one more time, conjuring an image that was dim and not fully formed because she had never seen what she was looking for. She forsook any further attempts at using the magic to strike back at the Trolls; she knew she didn’t have the strength or skills for it. Something less demanding and overt would have to do.
/> The blue light flared and lanced away, and the dragon immediately went after it. Back down the length of the pass the great beast flew, the Elfstone magic showing him the way. Phryne held the light steady and stayed focused, beating back her weariness and fear and shame, giving herself over to the singular purpose she had embraced. Onward they flew, dragon and Elven Princess, over the lines of milling Trolls, through the cliffs and drops, and back out into the old world where the bulk of the Drouj army was held in check, waiting for the order to attack.
Let me just do this one thing, she thought. Let me do this, and I will ask nothing more.
She was searching for Taureq Siq, and with the aid of the Elfstone magic she found him at the rear of the Drouj lines, surrounded by his command staff and bodyguards. The blue light revealed him even though she had never seen him before. The makeshift images she had formed out of what others had described was enough. She had mastered the Elfstone magic sufficiently to be able to make it do that much, and it did not fail her now.
She took the dragon down at once, telling herself that what happened next would depend entirely on the Drouj Maturen—a cold denial of responsibility for what she already knew he would bring down upon his own head.
Taureq Siq did not disappoint her. Upon catching sight of the dragon, he ordered his bodyguards to attack. It was a death sentence. Arrows and slings and even spears, when the dragon got close enough that they could be employed, were useless. The metal tips bounced harmlessly off the beast’s armored plates, and within seconds the Drouj gave up their efforts and tried to flee, scattering in all directions. It made no difference. The dragon was enraged, and he turned his deadly fire on them, sweeping the hilltop on which they had been clustered, burning them all to smoke and ash.
Phryne saw Taureq Siq in his final moments, his features so clear she could even make out his look of amazement that this was happening. He had chosen to stand his ground, one arm wrapped about the neck of an aide, holding the unfortunate in front of him like a shield. It did little good. The dragon fire burned through the luckless aide as if he were made of paper and then consumed the Maturen, as well.
Taureq Siq burned as if the weight of all his terrible deeds could be measured by the intensity of the flames.
All across the foothills and into Aphalion Pass, the cry went up that Taureq Siq was dead. The Trolls of the Drouj army were immediately thrown into disarray, no longer certain of what they should do. Leaderless and confused, they began to withdraw, backing out of the pass, their unit commanders pulling back with them. Soon the retreat was a complete rout as even those who had advanced deepest of all into the defile felt their courage give way.
His rage sated, the dragon broke off the attack, lifting away in a long, slow spiral. Phryne, who still clung to his neck, suddenly realized that something was wrong with her. Glancing down, she saw that arrows and darts sprouted from her body, her skin was burned by fire, and her clothes were smoking and blackened. She had failed to notice any of this until now, consumed by her struggle to help the Elves. She slumped in the makeshift saddle in response, dizzy and weak at the sight of the damage she had suffered. Parts of her body felt strangely numb, and she was having trouble breathing. For a second, she considered forcing the dragon to land, just so that she could get off.
But she couldn’t do that—not out here where the Drouj were still everywhere and there was no protection for her. So she mustered what strength she could and sent the Elfstone magic in search of Tasha and Tenerife. The blue light found them quickly enough, and the dragon responded by taking her to them. He went willingly, his eagerness to pursue the blue light renewed, flying back into the mountains, tacking across the deep split of the pass below until he had reached the wide spot where she had left the Orullians what now seemed like hours ago.
There were Elves clustered below, but they scattered into the narrower parts of the pass the moment they saw the dragon returning. This time they did not try to use their weapons, alerted perhaps by the brothers that she was aboard. The dragon spiraled downward in a slow, winding descent that brought him to the floor of the pass, where he settled in place, his wings folding against his body.
Closing her fingers tightly about the Elfstones, Phryne caused the magic to diminish to a soft pulse.
No one tried to approach as she slid down the great neck and dropped to the ground in a heap. With the last of her strength, she directed the Elfstone magic skyward. The dragon spread his wings and rose into the air, gathered himself when he was above the peaks, and flew until the coming night had swallowed him.
When she could no longer see him, when he had disappeared for good, still chasing after the magic he so desperately wanted, she closed her fingers around the Elfstones until the blue light had faded, then tucked the Stones into a pocket. She struggled to rise, to drag herself to someplace where the dragon couldn’t see her if he chose to return, but her body wouldn’t obey her. Then Tasha was there, only steps ahead of Tenerife and dozens more. Voices assaulted her, shouts of greeting and cries of “Queen” and “Amarantyne.” She saw faces she recognized, among them Xac Wen’s, his boyish features bright with excitement and wonder. Tasha and Tenerife held everyone back, calling for a healer, directing traffic. Tasha lifted her into his strong arms and bore her through the crowd.
“Make way, Elven Hunters!” he roared at them, his voice booming out. “Make way for our real Queen!”
She let the waves of sound wash over her, unable to respond to them, unwilling to make the effort. She had no strength left to do so. Her head was spinning and her thoughts were scattered. Her body felt numb all over and she was very cold.
“Thank you, Tasha,” she whispered up to him.
The big man dipped his head. A drop of something wet splashed on her face. “You saved us all, Phryne. Now just hold on. A healer is coming.”
“Can you imagine the stories they will tell about this?” Tenerife bent close to kiss her forehead. She could see the warmth reflected in his eyes. “You were so brave, Princess.”
“I feel so cold.”
“Tasha, we’re losing her! Hurry.”
Phryne closed her eyes as they entered the narrows of the defile and passed out of the fading daylight and into the darkness beyond.
IN HER DREAMS, she was flying again, borne on the back of the dragon, his great wings spread out beneath her, his body undulating as it soared over acres of countryside all lush and green with new growth amid blue rivers that tangled and twisted like silken threads. She felt the wind in her face and the sun on her skin, and the world was fresh and clean once more.
Beautiful creature, she called to the dragon, and he glanced at her with his lidded reptilian eyes and she felt his love for her.
You will always be mine, she told him. And I will always belong to you.
She lay forward against the rough plates of the beast’s scales, feeling them press against her face, and she rode the air currents toward a peaceful sleep.
HAREN CRAYEL, captain of the Elven Home Guard and commander of the Elven Hunters warding Aphalion Pass, stood apart with Tasha and Tenerife in the aftermath, their heads bent close, their hard eyes fixed not on one another but on the ground at their feet.
“What do you want to do about this?” he asked quietly.
Tenerife looked at him. “You already know the answer to that.”
“Do we have your support?”
“Would it matter? Has it ever mattered? Just tell me how much time you need.”
“We could leave at once. Be there by dawn.”
Tasha shook his head. “No, I want to be certain that it happens in the right way. I don’t want any mistakes. Give us until tomorrow night.”
Tenerife hugged himself, kicking at the earth. “That should be time enough.”
The captain of the Home Guard nodded. “Someone may get there ahead of you, tell them what’s happened here. It won’t be so easy then.”
Tasha grunted. “It won’t be so easy, anyway.”
> He glanced over to where Xac Wen knelt beside the carefully wrapped body of Phryne Amarantyne. His brother and Haren Crayel followed his gaze, and then looked at each other.
“What we need,” Tasha said softly, “is an experienced trickster.”
A WEARY, FOOTSORE PANTERRA QU STOOD ON A rise that gave him a clear view of the mountains west and the first hints of the opening into Declan Reach. He had walked east through the remainder of the day and most of the night, stopping only once to sleep for several hours before rising and continuing on. He had determined some time back that he could make the entrance to the pass by daybreak and be back in Glensk Wood by midday. He hoped he would hear some news of Prue once he got there, but if there were no news to be had he would rest again and then continue to Arborlon.
Of course, there were potential complications he did not like to dwell on. The Drouj might have dispatched an invasion force to Declan Reach as well as to Aphalion. If they had discovered the location of the one, there was a good chance they had discovered the location of the other, as well. The Elfstones had revealed no indications of a battle being fought there, so either the Drouj had not yet attacked or they had attacked and were already through and inside the valley. If the latter were true, they now held the pass, which would prevent him from reaching his home without going north to Aphalion. That, in turn, would mean that instead of letting Phryne go on alone, he should have insisted on going with her.
He didn’t like thinking of that possibility. It was painful enough already just accepting that she was gone.
He took a moment to look north, peering through the moonlit darkness as if he might learn what had become of her and the dragon. There was nothing to see, of course, but he couldn’t help wondering what had happened to them. He no longer heard the sounds of a battle being fought, the sounds he had heard yesterday long since gone and replaced by a deep, abiding silence. Whatever conclusion had been reached, it was over and done now. Her part in the outcome of things was decided; his was still to be played out.
