“Then we must make use of them. Keriya Soulstar, you must find the last dragon for me.”
Keriya sighed. There it was. “I can’t—”
Aldelphia spoke over her, burying her feeble protest. “We will use its power against our enemies. One specific enemy—a wielder who has been locked away for a ten-age.”
“Excuse me, Empress,” said Fletcher, speaking for the first time, “but we’re confused.” He indicated himself and Roxanne.
“Of course,” she said, inclining her head. “Most of my people do not recognize the signs for what they are, but Necrovar has widened the Rift enough to touch Selaras once more. He has sent shadowbeasts, his demonic minions, to—”
“Who’s Necrovar?” Fletcher interrupted.
The empress speared him with a calculating glare. Keriya briefly wondered if there was some sort of magic that could give sight to the sightless.
“Necrovar’s name has lived in infamy for the past seven-thousand years. Kings and peasants the world over know of his crimes. I find it strange that you do not.”
Fletcher spread his hands in apology.
“Necrovar is pure, dark magical energy,” Aldelphia said slowly. “It is a magic born of chaos, but it has no power over man unless man chooses to give it power. Ten ages ago, one human offered himself as a vessel for Necrovar. When it gained a mortal soul, it gained the ability to wield magic. This meant humans no longer had to choose to be evil—for the first time, Necrovar could force them to do evil things.
“Ultimately, the legendary warrior Valerion Equilumos went to the gods and offered them his soul, giving them the means to defeat the Shadow. The gods wove a spell to destroy Necrovar, but the spell went awry. Instead they created the Etherworld, a parallel universe where Necrovar and his legions were imprisoned, but now he has returned to finish what he started.”
A faint sigh slipped from the empress’s lips. “It was always going to come to this. He was—is—too powerful.”
Keriya winced. It would have been nice to know a few of these details before embarking on a quest to kill Necrovar, a quest that seemed increasingly insurmountable.
“Keriya, you will summon the dragon and command it to fight for us in the impending war. For I can assure you, war is inevitable.”
War. It was a more tangible, frightening concept coming from the empress. Still, Keriya knew she had to speak against the plan.
“You want to know the real reason Shivnath gave me these powers? It’s because she wants that dragon to stay safe. She wants me to fight Necrovar.”
Aldelphia smiled and shook her head—definitely not the reaction Keriya had expected.
“You cannot fight Necrovar,” she said with a note of resignation in her voice, “because only a dragon can kill him. So without a dragon, we will lose.”
A sharp rap on the door jolted Maxton Windharte out of his studies. His blue eyes flicked to the clock on his desk—it was three hours before midnight, too late for casual visitors. With a twinge of unease, he grabbed his calendar and thumbed through it to make sure he hadn’t overlooked a meeting with any of his associates. He hadn’t, of course. Max was meticulous; he’d never have forgotten something like that.
Another knock sounded, and Max stood from his plush, straight-backed chair. He crossed his sitting room and opened the door to reveal a stately female herald.
“My apologies, Your Grace,” she said, bowing to him. “Her Imperial Majesty is requesting your immediate presence in the Council Chamber regarding a matter of utmost urgency.”
Max hid a frown of confusion but exited his room, locking his door with a simple airmagic spell. When the empress summoned you, you obeyed.
He’d spent the last two years in residency at the Imperial Palace, taking advantage of Noryk’s libraries and translation scriptoriums, which were the best in the empire. During that time he’d made himself invaluable to Empress Aldelphia, since his studies focused on the Great War and Necrovar.
Even if one didn’t like Aldelphia, one had to admire her. She was cunning, and clever enough to see the pattern that had arisen over the past decade. She knew—or suspected, anyway—that Necrovar was planning his return.
Aldelphia had called on Max with increasing frequency lately, but those were all scheduled appointments. What could be so urgent that it required an emergency meeting, in the Council Chamber, no less? If something big had happened, Max would have already been aware of the situation.
The herald led Max to the ancient meeting hall, in one of the iconic cylindrical towers that distinguished the palace. He paused outside the great marble doors, smoothing his blond hair as the woman presented him.
“Now announcing Prince Maxton Windharte of the Erastate, heir to the Sky Throne.”
Max stepped into the chamber of the Council of Nine. The circular room overlooked the northern quadrant of Noryk. A round alabaster table gleamed at its center, where Council members met to discuss the most pressing problems of the empire. Only the rulers of the Allentrian wielding races were allowed to enter. Max, who was heir-apparent, had never been permitted here before.
“Be seated, Prince Maxton.”
“Your Majesty,” he murmured, bowing to the empress. He noted the other guests as he slid into a polished chair. Taeleia Alenciae, the Council representative for the Delegation of Elves, was present. No surprise there. Taeleia often attended the empress’s advisory meetings alongside Max, for elves were long-lived and remembered the Great War far better than their human counterparts.
To Max’s left was old Master Rikoru, ward of the Imperial Library. Beyond him sat a red-robed Valaani priest. But the strangest guest by far was the white-haired peasant seated beside the empress, staring determinedly at her lap.
“I apologize for calling you at such a late hour,” said Empress Aldelphia, “but this is something that cannot wait to be addressed. I’m sure many of you have heard stories circulating throughout Noryk regarding Moorfainian migrants.”
“Pardon, Empress,” said the priest, “but I heard the visitors weren’t foreign.”
“You heard correctly, Brother Azrin. This is Keriya Soulstar.” She gestured to the peasant. “Keriya is not Moorfainian. She is a dragon speaker.”
The girl—Keriya—finally looked up. Even from across the long table, the color of her eyes was evident. Max’s stomach plummeted toward the gilded floor. A rheenar? How was it possible?
Rikoru gasped. Brother Azrin whispered a breathy, fervent prayer. Taeleia placed both hands over her heart, her long ears quivering, her silver eyes overbright with emotion.
“Shivnath herself gave Keriya this power, because Necrovar has broken free from the Etherworld.”
Max’s jaw clenched involuntarily. Aldelphia had never been one to mince words.
“You’ve all seen the signs for what they are,” the empress continued. “We had our suspicions, now we have our proof. The Rift is widening.”
“This is a good thing,” said Brother Azrin. “The gods have sent us a savior in our time of need. And if the Rift widens, perhaps the dragons will return to Selaras.”
“If they were the only ones returning, it would be good. But if the dragons return, Necrovar’s forces must also return for the sake of the balance. We would resume the war where we left it ten ages ago. And ten ages ago, we were losing.”
A heavy silence settled on the room.
“Yet if darkness returns, so must light,” said the empress. “The balance has been preserved. One dragon has returned to Allentria, and Keriya will summon it for us.”
“You mean to have the dragon fight Necrovar?” said Rikoru, taking the momentous announcement of the dragon in stride.
“I mean to have the dragon kill Necrovar,” Aldelphia replied. “He will be weak and vulnerable from his time in the Etherworld. Where our ancestors failed, we will triumph. We can end this.”
Max fr
owned. The conversation had taken a drastic turn for the worse.
“During the Great War, the dragons refused to aid the mortal races,” said Taeleia. “Why should this one be any different?”
“If it refuses to help, it will be Keriya’s job to force it to fight.”
Keriya wilted, sinking in her chair and closing her dreadful eyes. She looked so small and frightened—it was hard for Max to believe she held the power to decide the fate of the world. But she did have that power, and as he stared at her, his heart began bubbling with alien warmth.
She could change everything.
“You think she can force the dragon’s hand?” Azrin asked.
“Prince Maxton?” said the empress. “This is your area of expertise.”
Max cleared his throat, wrenching his gaze from Keriya. “That is one facet of her powers,” he confirmed.
“Forgive me, Empress,” said Taeleia, “but this approach seems harsh. I have never seen you like this.”
“You have never seen me with my country at war. This is why I am not involving the Council. It is foolish to spend weeks deliberating over the best course of action and drafting treaties. It will be equally foolish to waste our peoples’ lives fighting a battle that cannot be won by mortal means.”
“It’s been seven thousand years since the Imprisonment. We’ve come far in that time,” said Rikoru. “Our mages have discovered new and powerful ways to weave threads; our engineers have developed stronger weapons; we have technology our forefathers could never have dreamed of. Surely we stand a better chance if we fight, rather than leaving our fate in the hands of a child.”
“Do not underestimate the Shadow,” Taeleia cautioned. “If we fight, we may find ourselves outmatched.”
“Then we ask for foreign aid,” Rikoru retorted.
“We have estranged all our former allies,” said Aldelphia. “No one would deign to help us.”
“But Necrovar is a threat to all of Selaras,” Azrin protested. “Surely the other countries know that.”
“Assuming they would help, how would we reach them to ask for it?” said Taeleia. “Allentrian ships are cursed, doomed to perish at sea before ever they reach their destinations.”
Azrin shook his head. “Old wives’ tales.”
“The record stands with Lady Taeleia,” said Aldelphia. “Foreign aid is out of the question. We will not send our ships to their certain demise, and I doubt we would receive help even if they were to arrive safely. The dragon is our only hope, which brings us to the reason I brought you here. Of everyone I trust, you are each the most knowledgeable in your respective fields.”
Max repressed a sigh as he glanced around. Deep down, a small part of him wished the empress had placed her trust more carefully.
“I need your help,” she told them. “Tonight, we summon the dragon.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“Guard well the magic belonging to thee, lest you lose your grasp and set it free.”
~ The Binding Laws, 15:8
“Excuse me, where are we going?” Fletcher asked, hurrying to keep up with Tevyn.
The stone-faced servant didn’t respond.
“Hey,” Roxanne said rudely. “We want to know what’s happening.”
“I’m showing you to your quarters,” Tevyn said curtly. No mention of where Keriya was. No explanation why Fletcher and Roxanne had been so abruptly dismissed from the throne room. It didn’t seem like they were getting arrested, but they also weren’t being treated well.
“Your empress is making a big mistake,” said Roxanne. “Keriya doesn’t have magic.”
“We should be with her. We’re her friends,” Fletcher added. Tevyn was unimpressed.
“And her assistants,” said Roxanne. “She can’t do anything without us.”
Finally, Tevyn stopped. He turned to inspect the two of them. “I shall inquire whether Lady Soulstar has need of you. If it pleases my lord and lady to follow me?” He glided past them in the direction whence they’d come.
They snaked through crisscrossing corridors, passing other servants and the occasional soldier, until their hallway opened into a large room. The far wall was made of natural stone, rather than the creamy marble that comprised the rest of the palace. A wooden door stood at its center.
Tevyn pulled a key from his breast pocket, unlocked the door, and slipped inside. The door swung shut behind him and Fletcher jumped to catch it before he and Roxanne were locked out.
“Go,” she whispered, pushing him through.
The room within was three stories high and twice as wide. It was dry as a desert but as cold as a glacier, and filled with tall shelves stretching as far as the eye could see. The shelves were stacked with countless books. Floating orbs that glowed with steady blue light bobbed gently in the air, like bubbles anchored in a deep sea.
Tevyn walked down a wide aisle between the bookshelves. He stopped at a narrow table to confer with a tall, blond-haired young man and a balding, wizened man who had two glass circles balanced on the edge of his nose.
“Fletcher?”
Fletcher perked up at the sound of his name. Keriya was sitting at the table, peeking out from behind the men.
A hundred questions lodged behind his leaden tongue: Is it true you’re a dragon speaker? What do these people want with you? What will happen to us?
He was reluctant to voice any of them—he was still reeling from Cezon’s betrayal and wasn’t sure he could handle any more shocks.
“They cannot be here,” said the old man, adjusting the glasses on his nose so he could scowl more accurately at Fletcher.
“Wait!” Keriya leapt up. She looked paler than usual, though that might have been due to the sickly light of the orbs. “Please let them stay.”
The old man protested, but the younger one held out a hand. “Peace, Master Rikoru. If she needs help, let them help.”
“Fine,” Rikoru grumbled. “On your own head be it. Tevyn, leave us. No more interruptions.”
Tevyn bowed his way out of the room. Rikoru shuffled into the stacks, muttering to himself as he disappeared in the dusty gloom. The young man beckoned Fletcher and Roxanne forward.
“Are you alright?” Fletcher asked when he reached Keriya.
“Yeah. How about you?”
“Oh, we’re fantastic,” said Roxanne. “How about you explain what’s going on?”
Keriya glanced at the young man. He edged away from the table, perhaps put off by the luminous gleam the orbs lent to her eyes.
“Okay, look,” she whispered, leaning close to Fletcher. “Shivnath appeared to me in Aeria. She told me about Necrovar and she gave me some of her powers, but only because she wants me to save the dragon. She said I had to face Necrovar in its place. Now the empress claims I can’t kill Necrovar, and she wants me to use Shivnath’s powers to make the dragon fight, and I don’t know what to do.”
“So . . . what you said about Shivnath changing your eyes,” Fletcher breathed, “that was true?”
“Yes,” she snapped. “Why would I lie about something like that?”
“That’s a great question.” Roxanne’s voice was dripping with sarcasm. “It’s a little suspicious, don’t you think? You’ve always wanted magic, and all of a sudden Shivnath conveniently gives you the power to save the world. I mean, why would she choose you, of all people?”
Keriya dropped her gaze to the tabletop. “I don’t know.”
Master Rikoru cut the awkward moment short. He bustled over and carefully laid a rolled-up parchment before Keriya.
“This is one of the most valuable scrolls in the world.” He unrolled it, revealing rows of foreign runes. “It is a translation of rheenaraion wielding techniques originally recorded by Valerion Equilumos. It details how to weave the spell that will summon a dragon.”
“Oh,” said Keriya, stari
ng at the indecipherable writing with a pained expression.
“Prince Maxton, Master Rikoru?”
A new voice issued from the doorway. Fletcher turned to see a tall, lithe creature dressed in a fitted white tunic and leggings. She had silver eyes and ivory skin that shimmered like an opal. Pointed ears as long as Fletcher’s forearm stuck out through waves of white-blonde hair that cascaded past her shoulders.
“Brother Azrin has prepared the Vale Room,” she said in a low voice. She held out a hand, extending clawed fingers too thin and long to look human. “Come, Drachrheenar.”
Fletcher, Keriya, and Roxanne stared at the newcomer blankly.
“She’s talking to you,” said Rikoru, yanking Keriya to her feet.
“Right! Sorry.” Keriya went to the woman. Fletcher slunk after her, worried that at any moment someone would yell at him and cart him away.
“I’m holding you accountable if that scroll doesn’t return safely, Maxton,” Rikoru called. Maxton smiled and nodded, and shut the door firmly behind him as they exited the book room.
The group followed the woman as she ghosted through the halls. This close, Fletcher saw that her opal skin wasn’t skin at all—she was covered with thousands of tiny scales, like those of a woodland snake.
She led them deep into the palace. There were no windows here, and few lights. The artworks on the walls were replaced by unmarked doors with heavy bolts. A charged aura thickened the atmosphere. Fletcher shivered. He could tell this area was ancient—and dangerous.
They came to the end of a dim corridor. Before them stood a stone archway that led to somewhere dark and empty. The opal-scaled woman walked through it, disappearing as she crossed the threshold. Keriya vanished next. Fletcher swallowed his reservations and stepped into the unknown. His vision went black. He grew feverish, feeling hot and cold all at once.
He didn’t have time to panic, for one more step brought him into a round stone chamber with a domed ceiling. Twelve massive torches hung in golden brackets, casting harsh light across a floor of glossy tiles arranged in spiraling designs. Natural rock jutted from the ground in the center of the room, forming a basin filled with gently swirling water. A constellation of gemstones crusted the rock formation, sparkling with a violet tinge. For some reason, the structure made Fletcher’s skin crawl.
Dragon Speaker Page 11