by K Fisher
“Enough with your magic, Alni!” Silthia roared, her head flashing back to look upon him, the amethyst of the Mystic Dragon’s eyes fully taking over her own. She did not continue to look upon him further, however, something catching her attention as her head snapped back forward and she dove.
Alni held on tightly, his foot slipping from her scale as his body slid towards her wing. Her growl of displeasure vibrated through her body and against him in a deep rumble, righting herself just long enough for him to climb back in spot and focus on securing himself once again. Alni’s eyes were closed as he tried to breathe and focus on the magic needed to tether himself in position, but instead his magic continued to dance along her back with no focus.
“I said ENOUGH!”
“I’m not doing it on purpose! Land us now before you kill us! I’m not going to fly a moment longer without some answers Silthia, I promise you that!” Alni’s voice was low and angry, so unlike his normal demeanor.
“What are you going to do, half-elf? Jump off? We are flying hundreds of feet from the ground. We will be at the location in only a minute.” She looked back at him once more, just as stubborn as he was.
Alni stared at her for one long moment before he took a deep breath and released his hold from her scales. Sliding off her back, he hit the empty air and felt the familiar drop in his stomach as he plummeted towards the Nevina Forest below. Instead of screams of surprise and panic like he had expressed before the last time he found himself freefalling, Alni’s face was focused on the earth below, squinting through the wind beating against his face. Above, Silthia’s roar of anger shook through the air, breaking the wind and shaking the leaves on the trees beneath them both.
Alni could hear her diving above him, her wings cutting the empty air. But there was no possible way she’d reach him before he hit the ground and he had no intention upon killing himself. Closing his eyes for a mere moment, Alni took a deep breath and released it out, his hands extending before him just as Bethinium had taught him. The magic that had been bubbling within him and reacting to his emotions finally had a second to be truly released, erupting from his fingertips and hitting the forest ground just as he fell a few feet from the top of the trees and caught sight of a space of ground where he could land.
Debris and foliage erupted where the magic hit, the force flattening the ground as it stopped Alni from landing, keeping him hovered in the air by the massive trees. When he opened his eyes, his magic slowly lowered him to the ground, sending whatever blew beneath it in all directions until both of his feet were upon the floor. The moment he landed safely, Alni walked several feet forward and stared straight up at Silthia as she dove through the trees and landed next to him.
The force of her landing was just as angry as her face appeared, smashing into bushes and destroying the flowers unlucky enough to be in her way as she made her loud and swift appearance.
“Do you mean to kill yourself, boy? You are not yet a practiced warlock and-” But Alni’s voice broke through Silthia’s irate rumbling, his own tone stoic and deep, slow and calculating.
“I have to practice at some point, right? Silthia, we are supposed to be bonded, we promised that we would take care of things in Desin together and I refuse to take another step until I know what I’m getting into and what you and Bethinium decided to discuss without me.”
Silthia’s nostrils flared, smoke erupting from each oval hole as she leaned towards him and took a step forward, bullying Alni’s back as he advanced. Although Alni was not afraid she would actually harm him, the sheer strength of her easily pushed him backwards in place until he felt the bark of a large tree. One heavy, clawed arm reached upward and against his chest, securing him in place. Unlike the time when they had met and she held him in such a position of power, there was no press of her claw against his chest to restrict breathing. Instead it was simply a heavy reminder of her strength and power, an action that Alni could not find a reason behind. Why did she still insist upon keeping things from him and not allowing his trust? Why did she appear to need the strength over him?
Alni’s hands went up and grasped onto her claws, fingers wrapping around the white bone as he glared at her, her long head a mere foot away from his own as they stated each other down in challenge. Neither one flinching or breathing for several moments as they assessed what would happen next.
But then, without warning, Alni’s magic leapt from him and reacted to his emotions, dancing along her claw as it had her spike when he was upon her back. Only this time, it did more than simply spark out against her skin, it erupted like it had against the ground and against the boy who had bullied him so long ago. A flash that he had no control over, an explosion of magic that required no training and had no reasoning except to protect him from whatever tried to harm him.
Silthia’s mouth opened, fangs flashing in the sunlight as she snapped in his direction, body jumping back from Alni’s body as her wings extended to their full length, stretching to the trees and dragging along the ground. Smoke was billowing from her nostrils, rage narrowing her eyes into two slits as the old crimson hue took over the amethyst that had resided there before.
Before she had a chance to respond further and the fight to continue, a voice filled the forest around them, rendering both the two newcomers and the birds chattering above silent.
“Good, you came as I had summoned.”
~
Bethinium and Brig slowly made their way up the mountainside, dodging the trails set to dissuade travelers and convince them to take another route. It was a trail that Bethinium had not been on in a great many years and, although he liked to think he had an amazing memory, he was unable to make any sense of the trail or find any similarities from the past. The entire forest had changed and grown so rapidly in the years past, it was anew.
It wasn’t until the two of them stopped before a large rock formation with a shadowed design that Bethinium finally found his bearings. The design did not look like much at first, perhaps the remnants of a fire that had ravaged the forest a great many years prior and scorched the side of the stone during the destruction, but upon further investigating it would be clear that it was no natural disaster. The rock had been marked purposefully and although the dwarves were not partial to magic, all beings dabbled in something that bordered on magic. Whereas the warlocks, dragons, and fairies were wielders of power, the dwarves were inventors.
Brig approached the markings, looking up at the massive stones that loomed ahead of them. It was the early morning still, but already the cold was starting to warm up, the hottest part of the day nothing to brag about, but it was a good break from the icy winds that had plagued them just an hour prior. “Do ya remember how this goes, old friend?” Brig asked, his beard lifting slightly as a small smile crossed his lips.
Bethinium chuckled heartily, shaking his head as he swept forward into a bow and gestured toward the stones before the two of them. “I suppose you should probably do it to be safe. You are certain my friends will be led back here when they return?”
“Of course! I will send some brothers to keep an eye out for ya. No dragon will sneak through here without us knowin’ about it!”
“How did Silthia outwit you, anyway?” Bethinium inquired, one hand stretching out as a finger poked at Brig’s shoulder, giving the small man a teasing nudge.
His only response was a string of frustrated grumbling as Brig ignored his question and reached his own hand out to touch the markings upon the massive stones. They were atop each other as though the side of the mountain had been disrupted and they had fallen, any unknowing traveler would assume the way was destroyed by the fallen rocks and turn the other way. But they had been placed there with purpose. Brig’s fingers trailed along the markings, crouching down as they coincided with a sharp edge, jagged bits of stone protruding from all sides of the broken bit of the mountain. He pressed something and took a step back, waiting by Bethinium's side for several long, quiet moments before a sound was heard on
the other side of the rocks.
There was a great groaning all around them, then a rumbling as the stones began to slide and part from each other. The bottom stone sank into the ground as though a stand held it up and had lowered, the top rising as it was lifted away. The doorway inside the deepest parts of the mountain was revealed to them both, a dark tunnel that Bethinium could not see into.
Brig did not wait, strolling inside the darkness ahead of the warlock, barely waiting for the old man to follow before reaching over and pressing another button hidden against the inside of the tunnel. Just as quickly as the entrance to the dwarves’ home had been presented to them, it had closed them inside and hidden from the outside world.
Bethinium took a deep breath, surrounded by warmth the second darkness surrounded them. It was a place that had been familiar to him during such a pivotal moment of his life when he had felt the most powerful and the most secure. Now, he was back there as a man broken and scared. One that tried to teach and to support his Queen and those he traveled with and had come to truly care about, but had still failed as a father. It was a humbling experience to return to beings he had respected so heavily at a time and trusted to keep a key safe, only to ask them if it truly was. He prayed they would not be insulted by the admittance of failure and the potential danger they faced being entrusted with such a thing.
Still, there was a small part of him that knew they would take any chance to stifle magic and keep it at bay, which was just what the key did.
Well, their little protective spell aside, they hated magic. Bethinium had always enjoyed the irony around such a thing.
Suddenly, the darkness was replaced with the red glow of light, torches lit all around them both as their company was illuminated and an angry, booming voice surrounded the area, filling every corner of the cave.
“Brig? What betrayal is this?”
Chapter Thirteen
Dora had Atair wait in one of her meeting quarters, far away from where the leaders had resided before. They needed to be somewhere private where they would not be overheard and she was not half convinced some of her remaining family members were still wandering around the castle discussing what she had said at the meeting. There had been countless times she had run into her aunt and cousins on the grounds, knowing they had procured their own wing of the castle without her approving of such a thing.
Which truly didn’t bother Dora very much, she didn’t care who lived under that roof as long as they had no intention of setting the way of things back to once it was. Any supporter of Mallor had no place in her lands and once the dragons had a King once more, she would be able to begin to make amends for what the throne had done to them.
Until then, a little bit of trust had to be given if she wanted some help. There was no possible way she could decipher the dark spells she had been reading in the books found within the castle and who better to ask than a warlock who had betrayed Mallor previously? Still, no amount of self convincing left Dora feeling perfectly safe.
Safe or not, she would not spend another night without proper sleep. There were big things that needed to happen in the castle and she had to be at the top of her game.
Grabbing the old books from her room, Dora paused when her eyes fell on the journal she had found among the pack. It was an old, leather journal with a silken red tie wound around the front and tied to the side. At first, she had not wanted to untie the book and see what lay inside, entranced by the simplicity of the journal and aware of her own draw to it. It was a pull of energy that she had never felt before, an impulsive need that she decided to shove down until she could understand it further.
But the night before she had opened it, stopping the moment her eyes fell on the name of the journal’s owner. It was a name she had heard a few times before and one that invoked curiosity and unease.
Daeso Dalcan. Alni’s father.
But why would a journal belonging to Alni’s father be hidden down in an apothecary filled with dark magic? A place where the thing that plagued her had disappeared to.
Instead of second guessing her decision to grab the journal, Dora stuffed it into the pile in her arms and left her room, starting down the hallway towards her meeting quarters. Slowly, the hallway she walked down broadened until it was large enough to allow a dragon to lumber through, changes that had been made long before Dora was born when her grandfather ruled. Back when the Stone of Dragons was used for the first time against dragons and they were enslaved to do the elves’ bidding.
Phillip escorted her, hands at his side as they strolled towards where Atair had been left. His eyes peered through the helmet upon his head and settled on the books in her arms, studying them before looking up at Dora. She had observed his curiosity and was staring him down as they walked. Almost instantly his eyes darted away from hers and focused back on the hallway before them, clearing his throat.
“My apologies. Did you need any assistance in holding those books, M’lady?”
“I’ve got them, thank you.”
The two of them stopped at the meeting room, greeting the other two guards that stood outside the door. She had ensured Atair knew that although she was temporarily trusting him to be in close quarters with her, she still did not fully trust the situation at hand and he was not given free reign about the grounds. The two guards bowed before Dora, one grabbing the door and opening it for her.
“Will you be needing a guard with you?” Phillip asked, already taking a few steps after her as she began to enter the room.
“Nope, I’ve got a big knife. Thanks though!” Dora piped up, turning around to face Atair as she grabbed the door and closed it. She was keeping him from following her into the room and somehow keeping the books from toppling in the process.
Turning slowly from her position at the door, she caught sight of Atair sitting at the large, circular wooden table in the middle of the empty room. He was leaning back in the chair, dirty boots propped up on the pristine wood as he observed her struggle with the books and keep her guards at bay.
“Sure you trust yourself alone in here with me?”
“You really want to ask me why I trust you after making such a good argument earlier? Yes, I’m not worried about being in this room with you, besides, if you do anything to hurt me I’ll beat you within an inch of your life and save the rest of you for Alni and Silthia. He did a great job of mopping up with you last time, I imagine he’d be sad if I didn’t give him the honor again.”
Atair’s laugh was bellowing and joyous. “You have a viper’s tongue. Your little husband certainly surprised me last time, but I truly am no danger to you. Let’s see what you have there and whether I can make any sense of who is trying to mess with your head.”
Dora sighed, dropping the books with a heavy thud before Atair. She grabbed the journal and placed it in front of herself as she took a seat and leaned forward, sliding one of the books in the pile in his direction.
“Not going to correct me after I teased you about your boy?”
“No. I’ve got bigger things to worry about than you trying to get under my skin. Read. This. And. Tell. Me. What. It. Is,” Dora said through gritted teeth, opening the book before him as she poked the page with each word.
There was another shadow of a smile as Atair leaned forward, his bright blue eyes scanning the page and markings upon it as he bit his tongue and decided it best not to respond and poke Dora too much. Thankfully, it was easy for him to get serious about things, the words and spell on the page sobering up his mind and actions, instilling him with a coldness he had not felt in some time. “This is dark magic, very dark. As you know, warlocks are given their magic from the very ground we stand and the core of Desin. This magic I’m reading about right now is not what we are blessed with but instead ways to do… Unnatural spells. Whomever possessed these books, most likely Mallor, had every intention of terrible things.”
“Does it say anything about a haunt? Or something left behind that can infect dreams or try to cha
se someone away? Does it say who owned the books?”
Atair’s long fingers surfed through the pages one at a time, Dora’s eyes catching on several images she had spent hours mulling over. They were etched into the pages, drawings of fairies, dragons, and all other manner of creatures, next to them were spells that coincided with the weaknesses for each race. But the spells were things Dora could not make sense of, things she had never grown up learning about. Those she stayed with after Bethinium assisted with her escape during childhood were not magic users and when she was told of who had killed her father, she had found herself shying away from it even more.
It wasn’t until Alni had shown up that she really embraced the idea that magic could be useful and not just destructive. This was a completely different language to her, which was precisely why Atair was perfect for the job.
“There’s no name anywhere on these books,” Atair said finally, his bright blue eyes looking over to the journal under Dora’s arm.
She noticed his stare and shook her head slowly. “Tell me something I want to hear and I’ll divulge the contents of the journal, although I feel like it really should only be read by Alni the moment he comes back.”
Atair sighed, grabbing for the worn book before him and turning it around until it faced her, sliding it across the table, he pointed to the page. “Here’s the deal, there’s nothing here that I’ve read that mentions anything like what you’ve experienced. We are going to need to take more time to look through these. If you can start reading that journal there, maybe you can get a heading before I figure something out. It’s going to be a long night, think you can call your manservant to bring us some meat and something to drink? I work better on a full stomach.”
“Get to reading. Find something of value and I might entertain the thought,” Dora responded, looking down at the journal before her as she took a deep breath and opened the cover. She flipped through the first few pages after reading a little, stopping when one caught her eye; the descriptions and words so beautifully written she could not help but be enveloped in the journey.