Dawncaller

by David Rice

  “My sword and Grumm’s shield usually let us know of any trouble,” Kirsten answered. “I have a bunch to say to Eko—a whole bunch— when we find him. Maybe there’s a chance I can get him to listen to some reason before I have to punch his stupid face.”

  “Naharin is full of pride and treats even his blessings as servants,” Saphel cautioned. “It is not likely that you will be allowed to approach his most prized possession.”

  “Let him try to stop me,” Kirsten grumbled.

  “Ahh,” Saphel chuckled. “It is as our psalms reveal. A sword, even one as great as the Fahde, does not sharpen one’s wisdom.”

  Kirsten frowned. “You sound like Dorak or Galen.” Remembering these elders filled Kirsten with sadness.

  “You shall accompany me. Never does a Rajdejmion refuse another. And he will be curious to know more about you, and he will certainly covet the Fahde, and your companion’s shield.”

  “So, how do we stop Eko if he’s being protected by an entire clan?”

  Saphel raised a finger to his temple. “Once Naharin sees you, he will bring his elder to reinforce his position with empty boasts. Then you may say what you wish.”

  Grumm nodded. “Are you sure this Naharin isn’t part gnome?”

  “Hey,” Olaf scolded. “Sounds more like a dwarf that’s been drinking.”

  Grumm huffed.

  Saphel stood. “We are close,” he said. “Tomorrow decides much. Trust your heart, Kirsten; Half-elf, Keeper of the Fahde, Starwatcher’s Daughter.”

  Kirsten winced with each title. “I’ll do everything I can,” she replied. “But what do we do if Eko summons the drake?”

  “I have perceived,” Saphel added. “The weave has weakened. This affects all. This may work to our advantage.” The Rajdejmion waited for Kirsten and her companions to bow their heads and departed for the pillows and silks of his tent.

  “Well, that’s not much help,” Kirsten grumbled to her friends.

  Grumm leaned towards Kirsten and whispered. “Should we tell him why the weave’s fading?”

  “No!” Kirsten replied. “We keep that secret between the three of us.” She glared at Olaf. “Right?”

  “Absolutely,” Olaf responded earnestly. “No doubt about it.”

  ***

  The morning began with the sound of delicate crystal bells. Kirsten jumped up and reached for her sword, thinking she was still in Xlaesin as it collapsed. Instead, she discovered that this was how the Rajala announced the dawn. They placed mats upon the ground and bowed to the rising sun. The mats reminded Kirsten of Longwood and her heart panged with loss.

  “See to the south,” Saphel called out. “Riders approach. “Let them wonder at the miracle of our entourage.”

  Indeed, the four riders approaching stopped suddenly when they saw scores of gohan lifting their heads and sniffing the air.

  Saphel called out a traditional greeting, and one of the riders approached tentatively, his horse balking every dozen steps.

  “Rajdejmion Naharin of the Silver Reeds greets Rajdejmion Saphel of the Path of Thorns. Our illustrious Rajdejmion has foreseen your coming, and appreciates the tokens you bring.”

  Saphel’s smile quivered at the insult but found composure enough to smile broadly. “I bring those who serve the One so that we may speak in peace of our world’s future. The gohan, of course, speak for themselves.”

  The rider’s face twitched and he bowed. “I shall announce your imminent arrival.” Then he pivoted and galloped away.

  “Let us break camp and follow,” Saphel suggested. “But at our own pace. They will wait to guide us.”

  Kirsten smirked. She was beginning to respect this Rajdejmion. Then she thought of Raisha. How could they be so gracious and still treat others as inferiors? Servants. Slaves. Possessions to be used and traded or given as gifts. And to teach their people that being a slave was an honour and a duty? She shuddered. She swore to herself that she would never be anyone’s servant. Then she looked at the Fahde with some guilt and trepidation, and embraced her pendant as well. “Is that what I am to you?” she whispered. “Is that all I am to the One?”

  Of course, there was no response.

  ***

  When they approached the camp of the Silver Reeds, Kirsten was amazed by the expanse of colourful silken tents, and the number of horses, wagons, and other Halnn-crafted conveniences. Since the gohan were insistent upon following, they were escorted in a wide arc around the camp to its far side where a massive cooking circle dominated a polished onyx slab that danced with the reflections of every surrounding flame.

  Rajdejmion Naharin was smaller than Kirsten expected, but his coiled swagger and twin curved blades more than made up for his modest height. He waited for Saphel to bow first—and he did so with a magnanimous swirl of silk—and then Naharin gestured for all to join him at the circle. Between most of Kirsten’s companions and Rajalan friends sat a well armed servant of Naharin. Kirsten was surprised, however, to be joined by two Rajalans wearing the colours of a third Rajdejmion. They introduced themselves as Ashak and Grash-houk. Grash-houk’s eyes were a milky white and yet he managed to stare with a wise smile at Kirsten as if he was gazing right through her. Of course, she thought. The Seer.

  The gohan rested beyond the arc in a semi-circle and Naharin did his best to ignore their presence. “Welcome.” His voice was sonorous and low. “Show me the Fahde and the Almedef.” “It is our honour, Rajdejmion,” Saphel smiled. He gestured to Grumm and Kirsten.

  “At least I know it has a name, now,” Grumm whispered and withdrew the shield from its linen cover on his back. The gem radiated an intense blue, and its light carried through the onyx like the rays of a sun.

  Kirsten drew the Fahde and its gem blazed pure white, dazzling all eyes save the Seer’s.

  “The legends live!” Naharin shouted. “And I shall use them to renew our futures.” “What?” Kirsten exclaimed. She turned an irritated expression towards Saphel.

  “I have brought the bearers as servants for us all, Great Naharin,” Saphel stated. “I say that it is time to forge a world at peace with the talents we share.”

  Naharin’s smile twisted towards contempt and then renewed itself. “I have an eldest who serves me, and he prepares to summon the one dragon. A sword has but a single purpose. And a shield only exists to protect the sword. A curse be upon whomever refuses to use these gifts of the One.”

  Saphel remained calm. “As our Psalms say, A sword that twists soon breaks the wrist.”

  Naharin sighed. “Our people are choosing me to lead them all, Saphel. You have dutifully brought the bearers. Once I am done with them, you shall submit, and I shall use our resources to rebuild these petty northern remnants who thought themselves superior to us. But first, I shall bring the one dragon.”

  “And then what?” Kirsten blurted.

  Naharin’s stare remained upon Saphel. “You shall end her,” he said.

  “I will not,” Kirsten exploded.

  Saphel raised his hand and Kirsten forced her temper down. “What the bearer urges,” Saphel explained with infinite courtesy, “is caution in challenging the forces that frame our world.”

  Naharim laughed. His eyes fell upon Grumm. “Did caution save your people?” Then he turned to Olaf. “Caution did nothing for your home, and now your home is nothing.” Then he turned to Kirsten. “Half-elder. Like our ancestors who scrambled to survive upon the scraps that remained after the first dawning. What has happened to your home? Your people?” He paused before raising his voice. “I have no patience for your arrogant whims. You will do as I command. I will not allow this world to be sundered, nor my people to be burned to dust.”

  Kirsten quivered with rage.

  She was surprised when the Seer’s frail hand came down gently upon her own and he whispered, “Bend like the willow under the weight of his words. Tomorrow, they will be air.”

  Kirsten’s face wrinkled. More riddles? She took a deep breath. “If the drag
on can be summoned by Eko, then I’ll do what I must,” she responded.

  Naharin paused to consider her tone and nuance. Then he swept his hand in a wide arc and pointed southward across the plateau. “The gohan respect you, or perhaps they just feed upon what you carry while the weave fades from us all. Therefore,” the Rajdejmion’s tone sharpened, “I will ignore your discourtesy this once. Bearer of the Fahde and Carrier of the

  Almedef, go into the blackened plain. Assist my elder.”

  “Fine.” Kirsten jumped to her feet. Grumm huffed once at the guards and joined her.

  “Go,” Naharin insisted. “We will bear witness to your—worthiness.”

  “I think I should join them, too,” Olaf suggested. Saphel waved his approval before Naharin could respond. The gnome sprinted to catch up to his friends.

  Naharin sneered at Saphel. “Your weakness disappoints me.”

  Saphel nodded, and his mouth smiled but not his eyes. “We shall see,” he replied amiably.

  ***

  Eko was facing southeast towards a distant curve of mountains that pierced the clouds. He held his hands aloft and gripped the two largest pieces of the Ameliss with all of his strength. The fractured onyx at his feet swirled with amber light. It was soon joined by the white of the Fahde and the blue of the Almedef.

  “Hello, Kirsten,” Eko said without turning his head. “I knew you would come. Naharin has sent you here to help me complete the ritual, hasn’t he?”

  Kirsten’s heart raced. She wanted to smack the arrogant smirk off Eko’s face. “He wants me to kill the one dragon.”

  “Of course,” Eko stated. “Once she is gone, there can be no more drakes. The solution couldn’t be simpler. Then I’ll be free to recover more of the ancient troves of knowledge that are buried here. Can you imagine it?”

  Kirsten’s temper finally had a place to unbottle. “Are you crazy? Look around you. There’s nothing left. And whoever did this all those years ago, they couldn’t control what they summoned. No one can control the drakes. Anyone who has thought otherwise has been destroyed.”

  Eko huffed dismissively. “Did you know that there may have been survivors? Elves who crossed the mountains? I’ve already discovered some clues in fragments of tablets among the ruins. It says they may have learned how to fly! Like the drakes! They could have crossed the mountains to safety.”

  The memory of Kirsten’s brief connection with the One resurfaced instantly. The One’s innocent creations had been shielded from destruction since the beginning of the world. Now Eko wanted to breach their haven of safety? The One wouldn’t tolerate such an act. Perhaps that was the purpose of the racing moons above? To smash them all if they threatened the One’s first children in any way. Not if she could prevent it.

  Kirsten grabbed Eko by the arm and spun him around. “You see this destruction and think it’s okay because there might have been a few survivors?”

  “We have an opportunity here, Kirsten. We can make the world safe, and have a means to discover a better land.”

  “I can’t let you,” Kirsten growled. “I won’t.”

  Eko responded calmly as if to a child. “This is necessary. She is coming already. There’s nothing you can do about that. All you can do is strike when she arrives.”

  Kirsten dropped her grasp and scanned the sky. “Eko. No one’s tried this before. Have you wondered why? And have you ever heard of anyone killing a drake? All I’ve ever been able to do is wound them or shoo them off.”

  Eko ignored Kirsten’s worried tone and continued to build the amber glow of the Ameliss shards. “If you can wound them, you can kill them,” Eko scoffed.

  “No, Eko. The only creatures I’ve ever seen kill a drake are other drakes, or the dragon herself. That’s it. That’s the truth. You’re going to get us all killed.”

  Eko dropped his arms for a moment and his face twisted with frustration. “You ignorant child! If you don’t do this, we are all doomed. All of us. Why won’t you understand?” Spit

  flew from his lips as he shouted.

  “Yeah?” Kirsten raged. “Like you cared so much when you left Dria trapped and helpless, or when you pulled Longwood’s defenders away so it couldn’t be saved.”

  “I did what I needed to do.”

  Kirsten took one step forward and punched Eko in the face. His nose cracked loudly and he dropped the shards of the Ameliss. He slumped slowly to the ground as blood poured through his fingers.

  Kirsten continued to assault Eko with her anger. “Dria was raped because of you doing what you needed to do. Tortured and raped and twisted into something I can’t even describe. And Longwood’s gone. Burned to the ground. Dorak, Jiror, Siandros, Tyrin, so many others dead because of your stupid selfish choices.”

  Eko wiped at the blood and spit onto the ground. “I knew about Longwood. I couldn’t save it but I tried to save them. They wouldn’t listen. Their destruction is their making, not mine. But these Rajala? They listen. They appreciate my expertise. They’ve earned the right to be saved and that’s what I’m going to do here.” Vehemence grew in Eko’s voice as he continued. “Everyone’s sacrifices won’t mean a thing if the dragon lives. Our world will be wiped clean with a second dawning, as if no one ever lived at all.” He scrambled to pick up the chunks of Ameliss but Grumm kicked them away.

  “Well,” Kirsten snipped. “Have you forgotten what always follows the dragon?”

  Eko shrugged and then his eyes widened.

  “That’s right,” Kirsten prodded. “Drakes. And there’s at least one huge drake I know that’s still flying. And you can be sure it’ll be here soon, too.”

  Eko pulled himself to his feet. “Your shield and sword, they’ll protect us all.”

  Kirsten laughed. “Sorry. I need room to maneuver. But you’re smarter than the rest of us. You’ll figure it out.”

  Grumm slipped behind Eko and slammed him in the head with his shield. The elf went down in a heap.

  “You didn’t kill him, did you?” Kirsten asked.

  “No. Just a love tap,” Grumm replied. “Can you drag him outta the way, Olaf?”

  “And then get back here so we can keep you safe,” Kirsten added.

  Olaf nodded and began to drag Eko but stopped abruptly. “Some of the gohan followed you,” he said. “And they’re looking north.”

  Kirsten briefly regarded Eko with disdain. “Don’t you go running off,” she grumbled, and remembering one of Galen’s lessons, cast a frostspark that anchored the elf’s feet to the rock

  with a layer of ice.

  The Fahde and the Almedef erupted with blinding radiance. Swooping down from the north came the great drake. He landed with a thunderous crunch that sent razor sharp chips of onyx spinning in all directions, scoring Kirsten and her friends with a dozen wounds.

  Gliding in from the southeast came the one dragon. She flared gracefully and landed facing the drake, her eyes gleaming with fury, and her maw filling with green fire. Kirsten’s sword projected a powerful shield.

  Crouching in a guard position with her sword, and wiping a stream of blood from her eyes, Kirsten hissed instructions to Olaf. “Stand close, and move when I move. Grumm’s shield

  should absorb any flames that aren’t deflected.”

  “Should?” Olaf croaked.

  The drake and the dragon began to circle one another, their heads darting in and back with lightning swift lunges. The gohan howled mournfully and stampeded away, taking half of Naharin’s tents with them. Kirsten gradually disengaged from between the circling beasts.

  “What now?” Grumm asked.

  “I don’t know,” Kirsten replied.

  “We can’t kill them?” Olaf squeaked.

  “I don’t think so,” Kirsten replied. “Even with the weave disappearing, they are still too powerful.”

  “Then when one wins,” Grumm ventured, “What then?”

  “I don’t know,” Kirsten hissed. “Let’s not plan too far ahead.”

  “Which
one do you want to win?” Grumm said. “We’d better pick sides before it’s too late.”

  Kirsten felt tears sting her eyes. Which one? In her heart, the choice was obvious. But in her head? What if Eko was right and the mother had to die? How could she live with her choice? She took a deep breath and stuck her jaw out. “Just follow my lead,” she said.

  The drake and the dragon struck at the same time. Claws slashed through scales and wings, jaws snapped leg bones and tore at ears, blasts of purple and green fire rolled across the onyx plain to fill the low clouds with their light. In moments, both creatures heaved one another away. Chunks of flesh oozed black ichor, and their limbs and wings quivered through surging pain. They recovered their balance to circle one another once more.