Dawncaller

by David Rice

  Kirsten burst into a wide smile and had to look away.

  Cinn took a step away, reconsidered and turned once more to face Kirsten. “I may be too busy to see much of you after this but what you did came from the courage and determination that is in you, not the sword. Know that I am proud of what you did.”

  Kirsten managed to whisper a hoarse “Thank you” as Cinn walked away.

  “I think he likes ye,” Besra chimed in.

  Kirsten laughed. “He’s a cousin,” she exclaimed.

  “Oh. Go on with ye,” Besra teased. “He’s too tall but otherwise quite fine.”

  Kirsten blushed again. She calmed a sudden fit of giggling so she could speak quietly. “I hardly know you but—”

  Besra grinned and raised an eyebrow.

  “Thank you for sticking up for me. That meant a lot.”

  Besra shook her head and smiled gently. “There’s lots that believe in ye now, girl. It’s just you that’s gotta join with how they’re feelin’.”

  Kirsten’s heart rushed with elation.

  “Like these folks,” Besra pointed to a group of elves who approached, tentative grins lighting their faces.

  Dria was the first to speak. “Eko really wanted to meet you both. Let’s head up to a platform where we can talk freely?”

  Eko nodded shyly. “Hello,” he said. “I have so many questions.” He was looking at the sword as much as at Kirsten.

  “Umm. Sure,” Kirsten agreed. “You can ask.”

  “Tyrin and Plax are coming, too,” Dria added. “Tyrin’s teaching Plax a number of tricks.”

  “It is a sparkweaving craft of infinite difficulty, Dria. These aren’t tricks,” Tyrin corrected.

  “Fine,” Dria laughed. “Anything I can use to surprise Siandros someday?”

  Eko frowned upon hearing the name. Dria burst forth with a shrill laughed as they headed towards one of the biggest trees.

  “So,” Besra asked. “Do elves always laugh when they’re going to fight immortal indestructible beasties?”

  “Kind of a new thing,” Eko deadpanned. Dria found the comment quite amusing.

  Kirsten shrugged. “This is new,” she said.

  Besra stopped when they reached the spiralling stairs. She looked up and paled. “We’re going all the way up there?” she said.

  “All the way to the top!” Dria stated. She chuckled when she saw Besra’s expression.

  “Stairs shouldn’t have open sides,” Besra mumbled.

  ***

  The long climb dampened the laughter, if not the spirits, of the group. When they reached the final platform, they discovered that Dria had already spread out enough comfortable mats for everyone. Crystal jugs of hedelma fruit wine were set alongside platters stacked with sliced seasoned meats, spiced cheeses, marinated fruits, and crisp vegetables.

  Dria waved a hand. “Enjoy,” she said.

  Besra’s eyes were wide. “Being an envoy is a fine job. Yer gracious indeed! Thank ye,” she exclaimed. When she had her first taste of the hedelma, she gasped. “Oh, it’s so sweet! I’ll have to take it easy.”

  Kirsten had a small taste of everything. It was the finest food she had yet enjoyed in Longwood.

  Dria nudged Eko and he dropped down suddenly to squeeze between Kirsten and Besra.

  “Hi,” he said. “I’ve read about your sword. There’s supposed to be a shield. From what I can figure, the elves, the Rajala—who are actually half-elven like you when they started—and the dwarves made these together the first time the drakes were awoken.”

  Kirsten took a deep breath. “Wow,” she said. “That’s a lot to absorb.”

  “I’ve been reading scrolls that date back to the generations after the First Dawning. They start in elvish and then twist into a dialect that is difficult to read. Then the writers identify themselves as Rajala. Unfortunately, I can’t read those and they may hold information crucial to our survival.”

  Kirsten’s eyes grew misty. “My best friend growing up was Rajala. They live throughout the Great Yellow.”

  Eko’s eyes widened. “Incredible. Survivors of the First Dawning. With half-elven heritage like you.”

  Kirsten wrinkled her nose. “How?”

  Eko slapped his hands together. “That’s what I’m hoping to find out! Can you read their text?”

  “I’m sorry. Raisha never taught me that.”

  Eko’s shoulder’s slumped briefly. Then he saw Dria smiling at him and he picked himself back up. “Don’t worry. I’m figuring it out.” “No small talk, eh?” Besra teased.

  Dria laughed. “He gets focused.”

  Eko grinned at Besra. “You’re from Thunderwall, aren’t you. I’d like to hear all of your stories.”

  Besra chuckled. “I don’t know about telling ye all meh stories.”

  Dria laughed again. “And we’ve always been told that dwarves are all sourpusses. But you’re really funny.”

  “Oh, the more we drink, the funnier we get,” Besra quipped.

  “Then have more hedelma,” Dria giggled.

  Besra put her hand over her glass. “Thanks, miss. But let’s keep this civil.”

  Dria frowned and then turned to Tyrin. “What tricks can you do? Show our guests!”

  Kirsten’s pendant warmed. Tyrin had used those tricks to save her life.

  Tyrin closed his eyes to concentrate. His body began to glow until he exuded a thin golden mist. Then his body twisted into a new shape that defied the eyes. Like the release of a long-held breath, a large falcon with piercing eyes now soared around the platform, coming to rest on the edge of the table where it posed proudly, fixed its stare upon the group, then preened a few feathers.

  “And you, Plax? Have you made some improvements?” Dria asked.

  The falcon flapped its wings aggressively.

  Plax stepped back. “It’s fine. You said I nearly had this. Let me try.” He closed his eyes and began to glow a deeper shade than Tyrin, then a smoky mist enveloped him, and he dropped from sight. When the mist disappeared, Plax was gone.

  Everyone jumped. Dria let out a small shriek and then looked down and squealed. She picked up a small black cat and pressed it against her chest. “You tricked me,” she giggled.

  Kirsten grinned, Eko blushed, and Besra shook with laughter.

  “You asked for it,” the dwarf chuckled.

  Plax the cat purred as loudly as any gnomish engine.

  Tyrin returned to his normal form and frowned at Plax. “Don’t stay in that form too long.”

  Plax closed his eyes contentedly and kept purring.

  Eko cleared his throat. There were so many questions unanswered. “Can I see the sword? The Fahde?”

  Kirsten shrugged and the drew the blade clear of its scabbard. The white gem ignited.

  Plax let out a sudden meow and dropped to the floor. Suddenly, he was his normal self again. For a moment, as he shifted through shapes, Kirsten could see his true pasty grey, mottled and moled self, before the illusion filled in. Tyrin frowned. Dria didn’t seem to notice. Her eyes were upon Eko and the gem.

  “You found it in a ruin, pinning the mother dragon’s foot to the stone?”

  “Glowing as brightly as I’ve ever seen it,” Kirsten added. “When I pulled it away, the dragon came alive.”

  Eko’s mouth opened. “How did you survive?”

  “It shielded me, Olaf, Grumm, and Pl—everyone,” she stuttered. “Even when the roof came down.”

  Eko’s questions gradually intensified. “So, when the gatehouse collapsed on Ballok, it saved you then, too?”

  “I think so.”

  “And it’s why the drakefire couldn’t harm you? And how you could wound such a creature?”

  “That must be why,” Kirsten replied. “It does what it does. I don’t really control it at all.”

  “Can I?” Eko reached for the sword and Kirsten pulled away.

  “Don’t. It won’t let anyone else touch it. It’ll burn you.”

  Plax mu
mbled, “That’s the truth.”

  Eko swelled with excitement. It’s incredible. It gathers the energy of the weave, stores it, and releases it when it needs to. It must have a mind of its own to do that.”

  Kirsten looked at the Fahde with some distrust. “A mind of its own?” She touched her pendant reflexively. “That would explain a lot.”

  Eko squinted at the sky and then regarded the sword again. “You’d better put it away.”

  Kirsten nodded. “I think you’re right.” She sheathed the sword and the gem dimmed.

  “The drakes” Eko stated. “I’ve read that they can sense the weave. They’ll fly to your sword like bugs to a bright flame. Better keep it put away until after one shows up.”

  Everyone agreed with Eko’s sensible suggestion.

  Eko noticed the fine etched details and soft glow of Kirsten’s pendant. “That’s beautiful,” he said. “Could I see that?”

  Kirsten drew away reflexively. “Why? she asked.

  Eko tossed a puzzled look from Kirsten to Dria and back again. “It’s a Salt Isles design, isn’t it? That tree isn’t as plentiful here as in the soil of the Isles.”

  “You’ve been there?” Kirsten asked a bit too harshly.

  “No,” Eko replied. “I’ve read almost everything in the archives as part of my research. There isn’t much on the Salt Isles, so what there was, I remember.”

  “Well, maybe they have archives, too,” Kirsten responded.

  Eko’s mouth opened for moment and disappointment flashed in his eyes. “Why hadn’t I thought of that? Could I have a quick look?”

  She covered the pendant with her hand. “It’s personal. My mother made it for me.”

  Eko frowned. “Sorry. I didn’t know that. The weave is strong in it, though. Perhaps I could tell you more about it?”

  Kirsten pulled away. “What do you mean, the weave? I haven’t noticed anything.”

  “Fine,” Eko snipped. “Let it call a drake down on you when you least expect it.”

  Kirsten paused. It could do that? Then she thought about how strangely it had behaved since Raisha had died. She even believed once that—no. Ridiculous. So, how could it hurt to share it for a few moments?

  The young sage was visibly surprised when Kirsten removed the pendant for a moment and held it towards him.

  “Go ahead,” she said. “I guess it can’t hurt.”

  “Thank you,” Eko smiled and gently cupped the silvered leaf in his hand. He turned it this way and that, reading the inscription, tracing each line with the soft passage of his fingers, feeling its weight, and considering its purpose. His eyes widened in surprise. “It’s getting warmer!”

  Then Eko cried out, his eyes rolled back, and he slumped sideways to the floor.

  Dria yelped and knelt at Eko’s side. The pendant skipped across the platform to stop at Plax’s feet.

  “I got it,” Plax announced and nimbly scooped it up. “It is hot,” he commented and then shivered and collapsed with a groan. The illusion he had held for days faded.

  “By the One,” Tyrin swore. “What is going on? What did your pendant do, Kirsten?” He leaned down to check on Plax and tried to revive him. There was nothing he could do to restore the disguise on his own.

  Kirsten grabbed the pendant and placed it round her neck once more. ‘I have no idea. It’s never done that before. Are they okay?” Then she noticed Plax’s appearance. “Oh, no. He won’t be able to stay here now.”

  Besra noticed Plax’s new appearance as well, and her demeanour transformed instantly. She drew her runehammer from her back and stood ready to swing. “What is a stinking lifebane doin’ here?”

  Dria looked up and cried out again. “What do you mean, lifebane?” Her eyes slowly absorbed Plax’s true features and her lips curled in disgust. “I can’t believe it. He was nice. I trusted him. Even held him—” She quivered with rage. “Tyrin? What have you done allowing that to come here?”

  Tyrin stood and glared at Dria. “Remember my position as an elder and forestward. Do you truly believe that I would bring danger to the Heartwood?”

  Dria pointed. “He’s a lifebane!” She turned to Kirsten. “You knew all along?”

  “I’d like to know just what’s what, too,” Besra demanded. “Because I’m about to boot its carcass outta this tree o’ yers.”

  Tyrin held up his palm. “Stop this, right now. Plax is a companion of Kirsten. He helped retrieve the Fahde. He is a horsewarden without a clan. He is not of the lifebane.”

  Eko pushed himself up with one hand, holding his head with the other. “Like I told you before, Dria. We are all from the same roots,” he whispered. He squinted through his pain to regard Plax. “Fascinating,” he mumbled. “Incredible!”

  Dria refocused her attention. She ran her hand through Eko’s hair and put her other hand on his back for balance. “Are you injured?”

  “Mnnn—no. It was like when the Ameliss fractured. I felt the presence of another—”

  “What do you mean?” Kirsten gripped the pendant tightly. “Another?”

  “Ummmnnn—both times, something looked through me, and left something behind.” Eko closed his eyes and lay back. “I don’t know what. Not yet.”

  Kirsten shivered. When she had imagined Raisha’s voice, dreamt it, and woke with a better sense of sparkweaving, had that been real? “What did it feel like?” she ventured nervously.

  Eko took a deep breath and searched for words. Then his eyes hardened around a hint of fear. “A warning,” he said.

  Kirsten’s heart skipped a beat. That’s exactly what it was. A warning.

  Tyrin lifted Plax’s head and the motion brought a fickering to his grey and bloodshot eyes. He looked around then stared at his grey and mottled hands, speckled with moles. “Oh, no,” he whispered.

  “Try to bring the charm back, Plax,” Tyrin instructed. “You’re safe with us but others won’t be so understanding.”

  Plax squeezed his eyes shut. Gradually, a healthy colour flowed through his features. His skin paled, softened, and his hair lightened its colour.

  “Good,” Tyrin exclaimed. “I’ll keep working with you.”

  Besra lowered her hammer. “You elves are strange,” she said.

  “No,” Plax announced. “I can’t stay. I keep putting you all at risk. I’ll leave tomorrow.”

  “What?” Kirsten blurted. “You can’t. I thought you’d stick with me.”

  Plax’s eyes softened. “Ballok can’t make that journey alone. I’ve decided that I’ll go with him.”

  Kirsten shivered. “Are you sure?”

  Plax’s eyes looked north. “Yes,” was all he could muster.

  Eko rubbed his head and tried to stand. His eyes were full of a distant hunger. “I need to get back to the archives.”

  “Right away?” Dria asked. “You’re still hurt.”

  “Things I saw. Things I understand better now,” Eko mumbled. Then he turned to the others. “Ballok was right. There’s only one of the Fahde and there could be dozens of drakes. Maybe Kirsten could fight them one by one but all at once? No.”

  Kirsten bit her lip. She knew Eko was right.

  Eko pressed on, his mind whirling like a dervish. “We can’t be here when the drakes come. Maybe we could go to the Salt Isles? Maybe hide in the mountains? Tyrin, could you ask the Circle of Elders if they would support a retreat to a new location?”

  Tyrin snorted. “Even if some see the sense in the idea, there’s no way enough would agree. And we’d have to abandon the archives. Our heritage. Our knowledge. Your mentor would lead the cry against that.”

  “Our lore could be rewritten,” Eko pleaded even though he knew it was a lie. “If we could just get away for awhile and return later—” Once again, his eyes focused upon some unresolved distance. “Or maybe—”

  “Like it or not,” Tyrin stated. “We stand here, together. For good or ill.” “That’s what dwarves do,” Besra added.

  Everyone’s thoughts tra
iled away, chased by hidden fears, until Eko stood tall, a determined glint in his eye.

  “You can walk?” Dria asked.

  “Yes. But come with me anyway?”

  Dria smiled, and the two descended the stairs arm in arm.

  Plax shrugged sadly and stood. “Guess I better go, too. Got a nice little grotto I sleep in. Will meet Ballok on the trail tomorrow.”

  “So that’s it?” Kirsten blurted. “After everything?”