by Mike Shelton
She screamed for help but was sure nothing would be heard outside of the room. The walls seemed to be thick wood, which absorbed any sound from within. She pounded on the walls and the door, but nothing gave.
Anger welled up inside her, for she knew she should have trusted her instincts about this meeting and found Alair first. What would King Arrowyn think of her after all this? She really was, as the guard had taunted, young and foolish.
A table and two chairs sat in the corner of the small room. She took three steps to reach them. She ran her hand over them and sensed nothing: nothing living, nothing she recognized. Their life force had been tampered with.
She sat down to think, wondering how long they would keep her here and for what reason. It must have something to do with the barrier. Then the door swung open, and, before she could move toward it, the chief watcher himself entered and closed the door behind him.
“Did I arrive quickly enough for you, my dear?” he asked, mocking her with a short bow. His black cape swirled around his tall frame.
“How dare you lock me up in here, in this, this, abomination.” She spread her hands out toward the walls of the room. “What have you done?”
“I simply cannot have you traipsing around Elvyn, telling others about the barrier, Protector.”
“What do you mean? Watching and protecting the barrier was your responsibility: the duty of every elf in Silla.” Breelyn paced the short room, trying to figure out what to do. She could attack him physically. Even without her magical powers, it would be a close fight. She had to be more agile and quicker than him, even if he was stronger. The guards would open the door to check on them eventually.
“You are right, Protector; it was the responsibility of every elf in Silla to ensure that the barrier never fell or, at the very least, to inform the king when it did. However, that does not apply to me, you see.” The arrogant chief watcher moved smoothly around the room.
“And, why would that not apply to the chief watcher himself?”
There was something about him that she just couldn’t figure out, something different. This tormented room took the power out of her senses. She felt blind and deaf. She had lived with the power for so long, and now, with its loss, everything appeared so dull. Colors and sounds were muted and plain in comparison. She wondered if this was how humans lived.
No wonder they don’t live very long.
“Because I am not an elf, I am human.” The chief watcher leered at her with his white teeth. Then he reached up and took off a small portion from the top of his ears—a piece that made his ears look pointed.
Breelyn gasped at the implications of a human being in disguise as the chief watcher. “But how? You do not seem to be from Tillimot or even Quentis. Your skin is too light.” She knew that, even though humans traded and communicated with the other countries on the continent, very few ever chose to actually live in Elvyn for any length of time. With the elves’ long lives and magical natures, it was too uncomfortable for others. “The only country you resemble is…” She stopped and shook her head in dismay.
“You have guessed correctly, my dear. My ancestry is from Alaris. In fact, my line goes back to two of Alaris’s wizards—ones that lived right before the barrier went up, generations ago. I am also a wizard.”
Breelyn sat down, drained and tired, as if she had used up her magic—but that wasn’t how her magic worked. All of this was very confusing. How had the chief watcher's family stayed hidden this entire time?
“What do you want from me?” she asked.
“Want? I want nothing from you, except for you to be out of the way while we finish what has been started, with the barrier coming down.”
“You have no right to keep me here or to be a watcher. And what does the barrier have to do with this?”
“Why, my dear, I am going to let Alaris in and let them wipe out your smug and arrogant race once and for all, something that should have been done one hundred and fifty years ago.”
She jumped at him then, trying to gouge out his eyes with her nails. At the last possible moment, he somehow moved just enough to make her miss. Her fingernails dug into the skin of his right cheek, drawing a deep line from below his right eye to the corner of his lip. He reached his oversized hands toward her, but she kicked up strong and knocked them away.
“What did you do with the last chief watcher?” she demanded.
“I killed him, just like I am going to kill you.” She saw him automatically reach for his power, but then his eyes bulged wide. His anger had impeded his thinking.
“You forgot where you were, didn’t you? I am guessing that if I can’t access my powers here, neither can you.” She swirled around in her long robes so fast she became a blur. Her leg came out and caught him in the neck, knocking him to the ground with a loud thud.
Breelyn kicked her foot down at the impostor to make sure he stayed there, but he brought his hand up and grabbed her ankle. He yanked it up hard, pulling a muscle in her calf. She screamed and went down instead, hitting her head against one of the solid wooden chairs. She felt a tingling in her body, and then her eyes began to blur.
“No!” she screamed again and tried to reach for her power. She pushed all she could into it, trying to break the barrier of the white wood. But all she felt was it pushing back, and this weakened her. “What is this wood?” she cried in desperation.
“It took years to form.” The watcher stood up and moved over to where she lay on the floor. “And much Elvyn blood. It required the removal of all life and form from the wood. It blocks all magic. It is not living, but dead!”
Breelyn could see the self-confidence in his eyes. He thought he’d won. But Breelyn hadn’t become one of the king’s five protectors for nothing. Also, she had one more power available to her. She pushed back her sleeve, where her protector’s amulet was attached to her upper arm. About three inches wide and made of a silver metal that came from the bottom of Emerald Lake, the amulet was more than mere jewelry. Only six existed in the world, and the king and each of his five protectors held one: forged over a thousand years ago.
It was a relatively simple thing to use, although Breelyn had been directed to use the amulet only in dire emergencies to protect the king himself. They had been used once, at the end of the war, one hundred and fifty years earlier, to save Arrowyn, who was only a young prince then. One of the protectors had been with Arrowyn’s father, the king, when he had died. The protector had called forth the power of the amulet to protect the king’s son and preserve his own life.
Even though the king’s life was not directly in danger at this moment, Breelyn justified her using it because of the fall of the barrier and the chance that the elves could be attacked before they were prepared to respond.
Breelyn turned part of the bracelet a quarter turn and then called forth the amulet’s power. She pulled her mind inward as much as possible, ignoring the chief watcher for the moment, as she concentrated hard and tried to get past the white wood barrier. It began to crumble slowly, in her mind.
Then the power of the other protectors’ amulets flowed into her. She pushed harder and had almost broken through the magic block, when the chief watcher slammed into her. This impact broke her concentration, and she felt herself weaken.
She knew that she was fading and fainting. If she didn’t succeed in the next few moments, she would die, the king would never learn that the barrier had fallen, and Elvyn would be plunged into war once again. So she gathered all the willpower she had developed in her young thirty years.
If this last effort didn’t work, she knew that she would burn herself out. She began to feel the strength and thoughts of the other protectors and of the king himself. She also sensed Alair, her guard, once again. So she called to him in her mind, and he responded.
The chief watcher smiled as he pounded Breelyn’s head against the hard floor. The power of the amulet filled Breelyn, and, with one final effort, she struck out with it, pushing out all the power sh
e had accumulated through the amulet.
The look of triumph on the chief watcher’s arrogant face was soon replaced as a sudden shock slammed his body back against the white walls. Blood gushed from his scalp, flowing down the right side of his thin face, and droplets of red stood out in stark contrast on the white walls.
Breelyn stood and pointed all her anger and power at him. White-hot fire erupted from the amulet on her arm and burned into the man, scorching his chest and engulfing his body. He screamed as he tried to get up and run out of the door.
Breelyn jumped, soaring over him, and sent blazing white fire back at him and into the middle of the accursed room, burning away the white wood. Then, just as the ceiling began to collapse, she saw the chief watcher point at her, and wizard fire left his fingertips before his body crumpled. The magical barrier of the room had been broken, so she jumped aside, and the fire blasted open the door, hitting a guard outside of the room.
The lone remaining guard drew his sword and advanced toward her. Before she could do anything, Alair jumped on him from behind and, with two hard hits, knocked him unconscious.
“Are you all right, Protector?”
“No, I am not all right, Alair. These people tried to lock me up and kill me.” A glow still surrounded the amulet, and she glared with burning anger and immense power. “It is treason, punishable by death, to touch a protector in this way.” She stepped out of the room, gathering more power, and then released it back behind her. The room continued to collapse as white-hot fire engulfed the entire area—and the chief watcher’s traitorous body now lay dead beneath the rubble.
Alair shielded his eyes with his hand and grabbed Breelyn. She fought him only momentarily, but then let him pull her away. They ran with rapid strides across a wooden bridge and down a flight of wooden stairs as the fire grew, spreading toward a nearby tree. Then alarms sounded, and they heard men running toward where they had just escaped.
Breelyn, still in a daze, turned around. She had to protect the other trees.
“No, Protector, we must leave.” Alair grabbed Breelyn around the waist and then jumped. Free-falling in the air, he eyed a vine and then grabbed it, swinging them wildly over to another tree. From there, he grabbed another vine, and they slid down it together to a smaller tree. And the sounds of others, rushing to the fire, faded into the background as she and Alair entered the dense forest.
Soon they found themselves on the ground in the middle of a grove of trees. It was late, well past midnight. The sounds of night insects and of scurrying nocturnal animals, moving away from the fire, filled the air in front of them.
Alair let go of Breelyn and fell onto his knees, breathing hard. He peered up at his charge, and Breelyn replied with a glare of fierce anger. He had been protecting her his entire life, and she knew he loved her as a daughter. Her rage at him for the moment was matched only by her sense of duty to her king and kingdom.
She remembered how, as she had grown, her powers had multiplied tremendously, until she had become the youngest protector in a thousand years. She loved her powers and enjoyed the pomp and circumstance of this position. But her judgments were just, her treatment of others was fair, and her ability to do the right thing was always perfect—until now.
“The trees…” Breelyn breathed heavily. “Why did you take me away?”
“Breelyn, there is nothing you can do. You set the place on fire. It doesn’t matter if you are a protector or not, that is a crime with severe punishments. You may be able to justify it to the king, but here, with these people, they would have taken you into custody or, worse yet, slain you.”
She glared at him but said nothing.
Alair stood back up and stepped toward her. “Well, they would have tried to take you into custody, but I would guess that they would find you much more elusive than they think.”
Her resolve finally crumbled, and she ran the few remaining steps to Alair, burying her face in his broad, strong chest. “They took my powers, Alair. You don’t know what that’s like. It was like they stole my soul.”
Alair stroked her smooth hair with his gentle touch and let her cry.
A few minutes later, Breelyn backed away from him and wiped her eyes. She lifted a hand up to the amulet. It was still warm.
“I will find a messenger to send to the king,” Alair noted.
Still rubbing the amulet, Breelyn communicated with the others and then felt the last traces of the four protectors and the king leave her.
“They already know,” she said. “I told them everything through the amulet.” Alair handed her his waterskin, and she drank deeply. She handed it back with a smile. “Thank you.” She knew that she had lost control at the end and that only Alair’s clearheaded thinking had allowed them to escape safely.
He only nodded. Protecting her was his job, and he took it seriously. She was the king’s protector, but Alair was hers.
“We must get away fast. They will be following us soon,” Alair said. “I fear that the governor is in on this also.”
“I think you are right,” Breelyn said.
Together, they began trotting south, out of Silla. Soon they found a small road, leading east, back to Lor’l.
CHAPTER EIGHT
It would be only a short flight for Bakari and Abylar from Emerald Lake to the Elvyn capital city of Lor’l. Bakari’s feet dangled over the sides as he held on with one hand to the strap around the dragon’s sturdy neck, which had now grown larger around than a full-sized man. From Emerald Lake, the dragon flew out over the Blue Sea. It was the first time that either of them had seen the ocean. They were both mesmerized by its enormity.
“Does it ever end?” Bakari asked out loud.
There are other lands across the sea, Abylar mentioned. The eastern kingdoms, where all magic started.
Bakari filed this information away for later. It could lead to an interesting conversation with his dragon.
A gleaming city, partially built on the ground and partly up in the trees, soon appeared before them. Elves standing outside by the sea began pointing upward, then scattered. By the time Abylar found a place to land on the shore, a generous number of elves had begun gathering around.
Bakari noticed their similarity to Breelyn, one of the Elvyn king’s protectors, who had helped Bakari find Celestar. For the most part, their hair was long and hung straight to either side: both brown and blond. White or gray robes hung from their lean frames. Their skin was pale from the amount of time they spent under the enormous trees they predominantly lived in.
Abylar flapped his wings a few times to settle himself properly.
The crowd grew quiet, then a lone voice rang out, “Hail the dragon rider.”
“Hail the dragon rider,” the crowd echoed, and then they bowed themselves reverently to the ground.
Not prepared for such a response, Bakari stood in awe. The people of Mahli had indeed been welcoming, but the respect and honor the elves showed him brought a wash of emotions over him. No one had ever shown him such courtesy and deference before. So he wasn’t sure what to do.
Abylar moved his neck around, prompting Bakari to climb down off of the immense dragon. Walking a few steps into the growing crowd, he bade them arise. “My name is Bakari. Thank you for your welcome. I come to speak to your king. The barrier is down.”
The people clapped and roared welcoming comments to him, though murmurs about the barrier’s demise subdued their cheers. Through the crowd walked a man with authority. The crowd parted for him and nodded their heads with respect. He appeared to be in his forties, with a few lines of wrinkles on his forehead and around his eyes. He wore a light blue robe and brought forth a thin but strong arm to shake Bakari’s hand.
“I am Lanwaithian Soliel, son of King Arrowyn Soliel. Greetings, Dragon Rider. It has been many years since a rider has blessed this land.”
Bakari nodded his head but was tongue-tied. These elves seemed so formal, and the young wizard didn’t know what to say. A low growl from h
is dragon prompted his reply.
“And this is Abylar.”
Lanwaithian turned to Abylar, and a broad smile covered his face, making him look even younger. He turned to Bakari. “May I?” He nodded his head toward the dragon.
Bakari came out of his stupor. “Oh, yes, sir. Of course, you may touch him.” Prince Lanwaithian walked forward and reverently touched the blue dragon.
“I can feel his spirit. He is strong for one so young.”
“Abylar is pleased to meet such a mighty elf.” Bakari walked up next to the man.
The prince turned his head to Bakari. “You can speak with him, can’t you?”
“Yes,” Bakari said. “Through the bond, we can speak in our minds to each other.”
“That is because he has the power of spirit,” informed Lanwaithian.
“So he has told me.” Bakari nodded his head. “The power to bind.”
“A very powerful magic,” the prince remarked. “Many mystical creatures hold the fourth power.”
“I look forward to learning more about these powers, Lanwaithian.”
“You can call me Lan.” The prince removed his hand from the dragon and smiled again. “All the knowledge we hold here is yours, Dragon Rider. Nothing would we withhold from someone as mighty as to bond with a dragon.”
Bakari reeled for a moment. He could hardly imagine how much knowledge the libraries of the long-lived elves would contain. It was a treasure beyond value that he had been offered.
“I am most grateful for that offer, Lan. We are only here for a short time now, to discuss with your king the doings from Alaris and the other kingdoms, and then we will be off to find another egg and another rider.”
