by Mike Shelton
To continue their conversation, Breelyn said, “Bakari is the first dragon rider. If history and tradition hold, he will be a dragon king. As the first dragon rider, he is my master. So I will follow him.”
“What about us?” Lan’s eyes grew dark. “You and me. We are set to be married in the spring.”
Breelyn placed her hand on Lan’s arm. “I still love you, Lanwaithian. We will be married,” she said fiercely. “But I need to help Bakari establish peace first, so the ceremony may need to be postponed. I don’t know right now.”
Lan’s lips were held tight. Then he said, “You might follow him, but you are still an elf, Breelyn, a protector of the king.”
Breelyn shook her head. “I don’t know if I can be both a protector and a dragon rider, Lan.”
They had reached the king’s chambers, so the rest of their conversation would need to wait. Something that Breelyn was fine with. She was still coming to grips with who she was and what being a dragon rider might mean. A servant opened up the cloth door for them to pass through. The room was dark, and it took a moment for Breelyn’s eyes to adjust. When they did, the sight that met them made her heart fall.
Rushing to the king’s bedside, she knelt down next to him. “My King,” she whispered in pain. His face was thin and pale. His soft, pure white hair framed his wrinkled cheeks.
After a few labored breaths, the old king opened his eyes. A thin film covered them, and it took a moment for him to focus. “Protector.”
Breelyn smiled through her tears. “My lord, I returned.”
The king patted her hand. “Did you return with something new?” His eyes regained their old sparkle for a moment.
“Yes.” Breelyn beamed. “A dragon, my lord. I am a dragon rider.”
“I told Bakari you would be a good fit,” the king whispered, his voice raspy and low. “But it is always up to the dragon.”
Breelyn poured him a glass of water, and he took a few sips.
“What color is your dragon?” The king’s eyes brightened.
“Yellow, like a sunrise.” Breelyn felt joy infuse into her bond. “Her name is Miriel.”
As the king smiled and closed his eyes, Breelyn glanced up at Lan. Lan’s eyes barely concealed the sadness Breelyn knew he felt over the obvious failing of his father’s health.
The king spoke again without opening his eyes. “Bakari will need your guidance, Breelyn. He is young and not accustomed to things of the world outside of Alaris. Protect him, and stay by him.”
With that, Breelyn looked up at Lan once more. His face was stern and unreadable.
“Lan, my son?” the king said, opening his eyes as he called to the prince.
Lan stepped forward, closer to his father.
“Don’t be jealous,” the old king said.
Lan opened his mouth, as if to argue.
But the king cut him off. “Breelyn will be by your side as queen, Lanwaithian. Have no doubt of that.”
Lan let out a held breath.
The king moved his hand, picking up Lan’s and bringing it to Breelyn’s hand. Holding both hands together, he gazed intently into their eyes. “There is an evil brewing in the land. As I sleep, the borders of this world and the next seem blurred, and I see things happening. Events unfolding.
Breelyn flashed a worried look at Lan and then asked, “What things, my king?”
“Just shadows and portents, nothing concrete, but…” The king opened his eyes wide, and then his voice grew stronger as he said, “There is more at stake here than our Elvyn land. We have kept ourselves away from others for too long. The western lands need our guidance and our knowledge. And Bakari has more in front of him than he knows.”
“Kanzar, one of their top wizards, is greedy, sire,” Breelyn said. “He stirred up trouble in Alaris and, somehow, infected the governor and his men in Silla.”
The king waved his other hand weakly in the air. “That is of no concern. I see the worry on your face, Protector. Yes, it is serious, but I think Bakari and his dragon riders will prevail in this. But there is more. A horrible evil is coming that threatens all magic. A man who twists magic to his own bidding and who means to harm us all. He has followers that are preparing a way for him to return to the world of the living: men and women that distort the true use of magic. That is what you must fight, not as a protector but as a dragon rider.”
“What can you tell us about this evil?” Lan asked. “We can send our armies to fight it.”
The king shook his head. “It is not an evil you can fight with a physical battle but a dark abomination that has to be fought with magic. It will take all the knowledge from all the lands, Lan. So you will need to let Breelyn go for a time. That is what I wanted to tell you.”
Lan nodded, and Breelyn glanced at Lan in concern.
“Don’t keep her from her destiny,” the king said. Then he closed his eyes once again and appeared to be falling back into sleep.
Breelyn and Lan stood up and walked quietly toward the doorway. As they reached the opening, the king stirred again and opened his eyes, fixing them on Breelyn. Then he nodded his head to her and said, “Hail, the dragon rider.”
Lan repeated the sentiment. “Hail, the dragon rider.”
Soon the word spread from there, each tree hearing the news in turn: a dragon rider was among them again.
* * *
Breelyn left a short time later, saying goodbye privately to Lan before speaking with Alair. Soon Breelyn stood between the trees and the Blue Sea next to Miriel. A crowd of onlookers had formed behind them, which included the prince. As she mounted the growing dragon for the first time, Breelyn lovingly ran her fingers over Miriel’s rough scales.
Ready? said the dragon to Breelyn’s mind.
“Ready,” Breelyn said out loud as she held tightly to a spike directly behind the dragon’s long neck.
As Miriel lifted Breelyn up into the air, the watching elves clapped and shouted.
Hail, the dragon rider, Miriel sang out in Breelyn’s mind, bringing tears to Breelyn’s eyes.
Her soul was infused with joy. And then, to the delight of the onlookers and the slight embarrassment of their prince, Breelyn blew Lan a kiss as she swooped back over the crowd. When Lanwaithian blushed, the crowd cheered even louder.
Then, with a few larger flaps of her wings, Miriel circled around the group once more and flew out over the sea. Climbing even higher, Miriel turned again and took off over the Elvyn Forest.
To Bakari, Breelyn directed.
To Abylar, Miriel answered, and Breelyn laughed in delight.
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
Suddenly, the two elderly wizards, Eryck and Titus, fell on top of Bakari in a room on the lowest level of the Citadel. The slide they had just gone down was a long-lost laundry chute, from the days when the Citadel had first been built. Bakari knew about it but had never actually slid down it until now.
Standing up, the three wizards found themselves in an old, dusty room, filled with shelves that were decaying and falling over. Putting one hand to the door, Bakari pushed it open slowly and looked down the long hallway. His mage light gave a ghostly blue tint to the worn floors and battered stone walls as they walked down them.
“There should be a guard down here,” Titus said. “These rooms hold artifacts that are not safe.”
Eryck nodded his agreement. “After healing me, Roland mentioned he was going down here to check on things. The next time we saw him, he ordered us to be taken to the dungeons.”
“Roland is here somewhere.” Bakari tried to listen for Roland with his mind.
A distant yell from up above them pushed the three men to move more quickly. As they walked by the numerous doors, Bakari put his hand on each door, to the apparent surprise of the older wizards.
“Titus, tell me about each room,” Bakari said. “You’ve been here a long time.”
“And I studied many of these artifacts enough to know how dangerous they are, Bakari,” Titus said. “You must
n’t touch any more of the doors. Some have wards of protection on them that might hurt you.”
Bakari gave Titus a questioning look. “Why didn’t you tell me that before now?”
Louder noises gathered above them, and Bakari was sure the false Roland would be on his way down here soon.
“Roland called to me before, but I can’t sense him anymore.” Bakari quickened his pace. “We must find him soon. He could be in mortal danger.”
“We are all in danger,” Eryck said. “We should be leaving.”
Bakari was growing tired of these two men, cowering before their task. He understood they were old and had been locked in the dungeons, but they needed to help him find Roland. Bakari gathered in strength from Abylar’s bond and felt himself grow stronger.
“Your irises have taken on a blue hint,” Eryck said, and he and Titus stepped away from Bakari.
“We will find Roland Tyre,” Bakari said, his voice deepening and his tone brooking no argument.
So, as the two men reached out with their own powers and examined each door, Bakari tried to reach Roland again with his mind.
But he couldn’t find anything.
Down the stairs came a contingent of guards with the false Roland. They stood at the far end of the shadowed hall, and Bakari wondered how he had ever thought that man was Roland. The man’s eyes, his sneer, the whole way he held his body now—these looked nothing like the real Roland’s features. Only the face and the body size reminded Bakari of his friend.
“Dragon Rider,” the man said, his voice echoing down the hall, “what are you doing down here? These rooms are forbidden and dangerous.”
“What did you do with Roland Tyre?” Bakari shouted back with anger.
The man walked forward to stand in front of his guards a few steps. “What do you mean, Bakari? I am Roland Tyre. You must not be feeling well. Come with us, and I will forget this ever happened. I will even allow Eryck and Titus to return to their rooms. But you must return with me now.”
“And why are you in such a hurry to have me leave? What are you hiding down here?” Bakari said as he continued to walk along the hallway, putting his hands on various doors to see whether he could feel anything that would alert him to Roland’s presence.
“Guards,” the false Roland said. “Bring me those three wizards.”
Three guards, clothed in chain mail, their swords drawn, advanced on Bakari and the two wizards. One guard moved out in front and threw an exploding ball of fire down the hallway. Bakari ducked, the fire barely missing his hair, but Eryck was not so lucky. He was thrown to the ground by the blast and then yelled out in pain.
The other two guards, which obviously weren’t wizards, ran down the hall toward them with quick steps, reaching Bakari and Titus in mere moments. But Titus pushed Bakari behind him and brought up his palms, shooting a stream of fire from each. He hit the two guards. One was lucky enough though to block most of the fire with his sword, and he kept coming forward, slicing Titus down the forearm.
Bakari! Abylar spoke to his mind. You are in danger. That man is evil.
As Bakari studied the man with Roland’s face, he briefly saw the visage slip to something older and evil. “Who are you?” he asked, knowing the man probably wouldn’t answer. But he was trying to stall anyway as he continued to walk backward down the hall, toward the last few doors.
The false Roland took a few steps closer to Bakari. “I am whoever I want to be.” In the blink of an eye, the man changed to look like Bakari himself.
Bakari gasped. “How?”
“There is much you do not know about magic. Your group of wizards are weak and pathetic. I hold the true power.” The man then changed again, now looking like one of his guards.
Bakari felt something slippery beneath his feet and took a second to glance down. A small smear of grease ran along the front of a door, with a light footprint smudged into it. This was the only door Bakari saw a footprint in front of.
Looking back up, Bakari realized now that he couldn’t tell one guard from the other. The false man blended in, and there were too many shadows now for Bakari to see the man’s eyes.
“Titus?” Bakari yelled. “Who has the keys for this door?”
“Kanzar always had one.” Titus held his arm, which still dripped with blood. “A guard was stationed down here with one, and I kept one in my rooms, as head scholar.”
Bakari brought up a brighter flame in front of himself and sent it down the hallway, lighting up the shadows so as to see each man’s eyes. There were three men standing there. But, as they walked steadily down the hallway, all three held their eyes down, so Bakari still couldn’t tell.
Abylar, I need your strength. Bakari dove deeper into the bond and encountered a stream of immense power and intelligence, flowing in and around his young dragon. He had to get the door opened and get to Roland. He reached out to the door, but, even with all the power he held, the protected door threw him back.
Picking himself up off of the ground, he pulled in more strength from Abylar. There is so much power.
Abylar chuckled in his mind. And I am just a young pup? I wonder what Kharlia would say.
Kharlia! Bakari thought. He hoped she was still safe upstairs.
Looking at the door again he put his mind to the task of trying to figure out how to get it open. Titus and Eryck kept the guards busy as Bakari worked on the problem. Finally gathering his powers again, he shot a large stream of fire at the door with such force than it threw him and the others to the ground. Nothing’s working!
He thought once again and decided to use more finesse this time. He brought up a small sliver of power and tried to work it down under the door. A small space separated the door from the ground, and Bakari pushed his slender power through it. He felt it give slightly and smiled, but then he heard a scream inside and pulled his power back inside him. Roland!
“You need a key, Bakari!” Titus yelled to him. “The special key and the power of two wizards are needed to open this door. Is there anyone here you trust to get my key?”
Kharlia! No, no, no. He didn’t want to send her back into danger again.
A blast from two of the guards knocked Titus down. “Bakari!”
With the three men approaching again, their swords drawn in front of them, Bakari reached out his mind to find Kharlia. He had never done this with anyone besides Roland—and his friend was also a wizard. But Bakari tried anyway. It was evening now, and the last time he had seen Kharlia, she was entering her rooms to get cleaned up and to rest.
Suddenly, one of the men jumped toward him and tried to grab Bakari. This move so surprised Bakari that he stumbled back and fell. It was difficult to split his mind between the current situation and trying to reach Kharlia, all the while keeping his contact with Abylar steady.
Pulling in more power, Bakari realized how little power he possessed on his own. But, now he was a dragon rider, and he pulled on his dragon’s magic, letting it flow through him. Looking up, Bakari saw the guard that had tripped him staring down at him now. By seeing the guard’s eyes, now flashing yellow, Bakari could tell it was the impostor.
Kharlia! he called as he found her. She was lying on a bed, resting. He nudged her awake, careful not to hurt her mind or to take control.
Bak? she thought as she awakened. What are you doing?
How he hated to involve her in this, but she was their only hope.
Bakari became distracted as the impostor reached toward him, and he briefly lost contact with Kharlia.
“You are actually harder than Roland was to detain,” the impostor spat. “You should be proud of that fact.”
Bakari scooted back, bumping into the nearest door. As his back touched the door’s cool metal, scenes flashed through his head. He saw himself riding Abylar, with Abylar spitting fire down on a village of people. In the image, he saw himself throw back his head and laugh at the destruction.
Bakari! a voice called to his mind.
He shook h
is head, finding familiarity in the voice. Kharlia? he whispered in his mind. Then he saw a brief image of her, standing up in her room. She had donned clean clothes in a light blue that set off her darker skin, eyes, and hair beautifully.
Once again his mind wavered, and he saw himself standing in front of the Chief Judge. Daymian appeared afraid, and he bowed his entire body down in front of Bakari. Bakari then saw himself sneer and reach out his hands, wrapping sizzling fire around the Chief Judge, squeezing the life from him.
Bakari! another voice called to him. This was a deep and powerful voice. One that infused his body and mind with power. Come back, it pleaded with worry.
Bakari opened his eyes and moved his back away from the door, finding that only a second of time had elapsed. He wondered what power had possessed him. The impostor was still moving toward him, his green eyes looking wild.
“See what you can become, Bakari?” The impostor’s voice was smooth and oily. “You can be the greatest wizard of all time. With the power of the dragon, you can decimate the people of this land and raise yourself up as a mighty king.”
As Bakari put his hand out to attack the approaching man, the impostor changed his image again. Bakari cried out. It was a dark-skinned woman now, black hair curling around her head, with a red scarf holding it back from her forehead. Feelings that he hadn’t thought about in years flooded back through Bakari’s mind.
“Mother?” Bakari moved his hand up toward the woman’s face. He barely had any memory of the woman who had loved him but had given him up to the Citadel at five years old.
Bakari? a voice came into his mind one more time. It seemed tired and weak, but close by.
Roland? Bakari replied, trying to remember where he was.
Then the visage of his mother in front of him flashed away, and the guard resumed reaching his hands toward Bakari’s throat. Fear and anger grabbed Bakari all at once. This was not how he was going to die! He had just become a dragon rider and still had a lot to accomplish.
