Rekho stepped into a large clearing where everything was bare. All the trees were skeletal remains of the beauty they once held. A sound, akin to a heartbeat pulsed in Rekhos’ ears. A glow broke through a mass of dead plants and animals. He headed in that direction as the pulsing grew louder and threatened to make him turn around and walk away as quick as his legs would carry him. It was the dragon magic protecting itself. Falling to his knees, he peered through the tangled mass of skeletons and tree branches.
There, he saw the origin of the glowing and pulsing magic. No bigger than the palm of his hand, a grey stone, pocketed with pores from centuries of wear, sat among the debris. His breath caught in his throat.
“It’s here,” he breathed. Images assailed him as he gazed upon it. A beautiful, silver-eyed woman whose hair shimmered with a purple hue in the sunlight. His wife. A single tear burned a path down his cheek. “Tanahill.”
A hand fell heavy on his shoulder. “Sir?”
Rekho snapped back to himself with an angry growl. He swiped at the tear and composed his face before he turned to face the others. “I need to set up a workspace.” He slung the pack from his shoulder and opened it. He pulled out a small, iron brazier and a large, flat stone. Laying the stone on the ground as close as he dared to the glowing Heartstone, he placed the brazier on top of this. He instructed the priests to bring him some of the dried leaves that had littered the pathway and twigs. These he put inside the brazier to start a small fire.
He had brought only those potions that would be used in the summoning of the Zar’leith. Carefully he removed a small metal box. Opening this, he removed the delicate vial swirling with a colored liquid from the velvet lining. The essence he would need to demand that the demon follow his commands.
“Place your men twenty paces around me in all directions. Do not come nearer,” he told the tall one. “No matter what you may hear.” The warning in his voice was clear. The priest nodded and began issuing orders.
The three Chosen stood before Rekho and he eyed them critically. How strong was their faith? He would know soon enough. The one he had dubbed ‘Scar’ carried a long chain barbed with spikes and ending in a heavy, solid ball of metal. He chose this one to stand with him as he summoned. The man’s eyes were void of anything, especially fear, so he should be able to handle what he was about to see. The other two Rekho told to only move in if the demon tried to lash out.
Rekho prepared his brazier, adding several drops from the three vials and the fire sputtered and shot sparks. Holding tightly to the vial of Zar’leith essence, Rekho muttered the words of conjuring that would open the depths of darkness and allow the demon to pass into their plane. A curtain of inky black opened and extended to the size of man, then elongated growing taller and taller.
As he chanted, Rekho inserted the name of the Zar’leith between breaths. A low rumbling sounded from the black hole that now stretched to ten feet. The ground around them shook and fissures shot outward from the chill blackness. Rekho chanted relentlessly. The men around him started to fidget nervously, except for Scar who stood still as a statue beside the mage. The only indication that he was alive was the free hand at his side curled into a fist that had his knuckles whitened with the effort.
With a rush of fetid air, a long, thin reptilian creature stepped out of the darkness. The body glistened in the moonlight. Three sets of arms stretched outward, it unfurled a set of wings that included every color known in existence and perhaps a few others as well. They were mesmerizing and gorgeous. Odd that they would be attached to such a hideously evil creature. The face of the beast resembled that of a bat but only one large eye sat in the middle of its face. Its elongated snout ended in a stubbed nose and opened revealing very few teeth, however the ones it had were thin, sharp and dripped with poisonous saliva. Pointed ears sat on either side of its head. It was brilliant red, the color of the fire burning bright from the brazier.
“Who summons me?” The voice that roared forth from it was actually several voices, male and female alike. It set every nerve in Rekho’s body on edge. When it spoke, the smell of sulfur engulfed them.
“I…” Rekho nearly choked on his words. “I have summoned you,” he said more forcefully. “Rekho Moonshadow of the elven land of Orphana, fallen Master of the Circle of Mages.” Adding in that he was a ‘fallen’ mage would indicate to this creature that his intentions were less than pure, an important factor to the demon.
“Fallen Master,” the demon said. It laughed, causing the two Chosen behind him to grasp their ears. Scar merely gripped his fist tighter. Rekho smiled.
“You dare summon me, mage?” it shrieked at him. Demons were notoriously uncooperative. It wouldn’t obey unless either persuaded or forced. Rekho had little patience for persuasion.
“I do,” he said. Holding the vial in front of him that contained Zar’eith essence, Rekho uncorked it, his smile never wavered. “I am in need of your services.”
The demon hissed as it sniffed the air, recognizing the scent that came from the vial. Another rumble and the ground shook beneath their feet. The demon was obviously unhappy at its situation. From the corner of his eye, Rekho saw two of the priests that should have been stationed farther out, moving in. Idiots! What were they doing? Like lightening, a clawed arm shot out and grabbed up one of the men. Screaming and thrashing in the demon’s grip, the priest tried to invoke the power of his god. Another of those nerve grinding laughs burst from the demon.
“Irhona’s cronies always did make tasty treats,” it said and slid its forked tongue up the priest’s face. The man’s prayers turned to screams as the skin bubbled and melted where demon’s poison touched him. The demon took one clawed finger and dug it slowly through the man’s middle as he continued to thrash. The screams slowly died into a bubbling gasp. Rekho closed his eyes to avoid having to watch the torture. Finally there was silence and Rekho looked back to the demon. It had bitten the man in half and devoured the upper portion, throwing the rest to the dirt.
Rekho thrust the vial forward and raised his voice, doing his best to infuse it with authority. “You will obey my order, Zar’leith!”
The demon opened its mouth. It screamed in defiance at Rekho but could do nothing against him. “What is it you command, Mage?” it spat at him through clenched teeth that still held bits of human flesh. Rekho swallowed back the gorge that rose in his throat.
“I command you to guard the magic in this place. Soon someone will come to try and retrieve the stone here that houses the magic of dragons. You will not let them.”
The demon screamed again and reached out toward Rekho. A chain wrapped around the arm. Rekho looked to his right, eyes wide with surprise. Scar had invoked the power of his god and sent his weapon at the beast who now roared with pain as electricity snaked all along the metal barbs. Not missing a beat, Rekho continued, “Or you will answer to my wrath.”
The Zar’leith pulled its arm back but reached out with another to grab the other priest that had moved in too close. The man screamed, having seen his fate played out with his brethren. The demon wasted no time with this one and bit down on the man’s torso. The screams instantly stopped. The demon hurled the rest of the body through the trees.
“As you command,” it said, reluctantly. Turning its back on the priests and Rekho, it curled itself around the place where the pulsing magic rested.
Rekho let out a long breath. Never taking his eyes from the beast, he gathered his tools, stuffed them in his pack and backed quickly away. His stomach was knotted and he shook badly. Once a safe enough distance had been put between him and the demon, he turned and moved quickly from the area.
He ran into the tall priest, he had begun referring to in his own mind as ‘Captain.’ The man’s eyes were wild with fear and his other priests stood behind him, looking ready to sprint at a moment’s notice. The Chosen, all except for Scar, were visibly rattled but they held themselves together admirably. Captain approached him.
“I lost two of m
y priests!”
“Casualties were inevitable.” Rekho shrugged. “Demons enter our plane hungry and have to be fed.”
“Wh-what? You used my men as…as…FOOD? How will you explain that to the Elder?”
“You were ordered to keep your men back, no matter what.” Rekho leveled his gaze on the man. “How will you explain your failure to the Elder?”
SEVENTEEN
The sensation of flying through the air was exhilarating. Like a bird in flight, Thom soared through the skies, wind rushing all around him, creating a roar that blocked out all other sound. His eyes were clenched tight. Although he liked the feeling, he didn’t care to look around. All too soon, the roaring subsided and he could hear a voice, someone talking to him. Shaking his head to dislodge the unwanted intrusion, he found that to be a mistake. A sharp pain shot through his temple and radiated right behind his eyes.
The voice became more insistent. What was it saying? He couldn’t hear it through this pain. Bringing his hands to his head, his limbs felt heavy as lead. After flying and feeling light as air, it was strange how heavy his body actually was. Words were becoming distinct as the voice became clearer.
“Thom! Thom, can you hear me? Wake up, Thom!”
He didn’t want to, but the voice was so compelling, so sweet. Like tiny tinkling bells it sang through his head, making the pain subside. He wished it would keep talking until all the pain was gone.
“Wake up, Thom. I’m here. It’s Mey.” A hand closed over his and gently moved it from his head. There was another hand smoothing his brow and gently wiping all the pain away as the voice pacified. “Shhh. It’s Mey, I’m right here with you. Thom? Can you open your eyes?”
He tried to answer but it came out in an unintelligible groan. Turning his head toward the voice, he tried to open his eyes again. It was her! Mey was with him and he wanted desperately to look at her. She was a dragon. He had seen it from the pit right before he left Yndar.
Determined to open his eyes, he concentrated on them. They felt heavy and he had difficulty making them do what he willed. He managed to open one to a slit. Dull light assailed him. Everything was a blur at first, he tried again to say her name but it only came out in another groan. He looked for her.
“Here. Right here, Thom.” Her voice was like cool water and it rushed over him, soothing. He managed to find her and tried to focus. When she came into view he sighed. She was certainly not a dragon, but something covered her face. She reached up and removed whatever was covering her eyes.
“Mey,” he finally managed the word. He was rewarded with the most brilliant smile she had to offer. She was different, but decidedly not a dragon, as he had imagined he had seen. Her eyes and hair. Changed. But to Thom, it only added to her beauty. He reached to touch the hair that had fallen over one shoulder, wondering at its deep purple hue. The color of the mane on the dragon he saw from the pit.
“Thom.” She breathed his name, drawing his attention from her hair to her face. Oh, her eyes. She took his outstretched hand and brought it close to her face.
Clearing his throat, which was parched, he managed again to say, “Mey.” He wanted to ask about her hair, her eyes, but his throat constricted and he coughed instead.
“Water,” she said and pulled away from him. Back in seconds, she lifted a cup to his mouth for him to drink. He gratefully downed a large gulp. “Not too much. Slowly.”
He watched her as she set the cup aside and moved back to him.
He reached again for her face and trailed a finger from her brow to her temple. “Your eyes,” he managed.
She merely nodded.
Moving his hand to her hair again, he lightly ran his fingers through a silky strand.
She made no move to stop him. Looking back at her eyes, they were closed and tears squeezed from the corners.
“Don’t cry.”
“I thought you were lost to me.”
Easing up on one elbow he said, “But you found me.” A smiled curled his lips. Then a new thought, “How long was I out?”
“Four days. The first two spent on the road bringing you here. We’re in Sorga; the temple of Sirrah.”
Lifting himself even further, Thom struggled into a seated position. Mey quickly lent her assistance. Muscles that had not been used in days screamed at him. He grimaced at their protest and stretched them anyway. She was watching him closely.
“I wandered the edge of the spiritual plane.”
Her eyes widened, but she said nothing.
“I met a dragon. His name is Yndar, and—“
“A dragon!” Her interruption was like a child too excited to wait for the Yule gifts and it made him smile.
“Yes. We spoke of how the world is coming along since his departure. He has been stuck on that plane for hundreds of years.”
“Did he give you any clue as to how we are going to call them back?”
He was thoughtful. “No,” he finally answered, “but we did discuss…other…matters.” A pain shot through his head and he gripped it with both hands.
Mey quickly moved closer to his side, making him lie back. Being this close to her was unnerving. She smells like honeysuckle, he thought as he gazed at her. Damn, he’d never be able to concentrate, he couldn’t take his eyes from her. He let out a long breath.
Every muscle in his body protested as he moved down slowly. Fluffing up the pillows behind him so he could stay elevated, Mey worked around him in a dizzying swirl of sweet smells and intoxicating colors. He had to close his eyes to steady himself.
He looked up to find her staring at him. Those beautiful, haunting eyes, one shining liquid silver, the other sparkling emerald green. How enchanting. She looked at something in her hand. He followed her gaze.
Holding out the mask that, until now, she had been loath to even touch, she said, “I…I put it on.”
Thom reached out to take it, but she pulled back. “I saw myself covered in scales. Everything in the room, save you, your magical elements and these two tapestries disappeared.” She hesitated before the next revelation. “I think I was seeing the truth of the past. The pictures showed dragons healing people and making things whole. My uncle said something on the road – ‘a dragons’ voice can give or take life at a whim’.”
He was silent, instinctively knowing she had to come to terms with this on her own.
“I am dragon-kin, Thom. It’s who I am. I thought I was losing myself, but I’m not. I’m finding out who I’ve always been.” Tears glistened in her eyes, lending them an otherworldly shine. Gods, she’s beautiful. Although she sat there, vulnerable with her tears, she was strong, shoulders squared, determination in the way she held herself and finality in her voice.
I love you. He wanted to say it so badly, but the words stuck in his throat. Was he ready to say it? Was she ready to hear it? For the sake of this quest and his uncertainty, maybe he should keep it to himself a little longer. His heart beat hard against his chest. So he opted for, “You’re so beautiful.”
She shook her head slightly and the purple strands in her hair gleamed under the soft candlelight. It was still dark outside, he noted.
“I…I don’t know what to say.”
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…”
“No.” She moved in and laid a silencing finger upon his lips. “You just took me by surprise.”
Keeping his eyes on her, he pulled her in and lightly brushed his lips to hers. They were as soft as he remembered. She sucked in a deep breath, but didn’t move away. If it were possible, her eyes brightened even more. Putting his hands on either side of her lovely face, he brought her closer and again kissed her, this time more forcefully. Sweet gods, I would lose myself to her, he thought.
For long moments, but not nearly long enough, he held on to her for dear life, until the sound of someone clearing their throat broke the magic weaving itself around the two of them, shutting them off to anything but one another.
Mey pulled back and glanced quickly in the
direction of the noise. Color rose to her cheeks and she lowered her gaze.
Looking at the intruder, Thom saw Elerbee standing, shuffling his feet slightly, his own face reddened with embarrassment. An awkward moment of silence hung heavy in the air.
Elerbee spoke. “Well, nice to have you back. We’ve all been worried sick.” He absently dislodged a few bits of clinging lint from the sleeve of his robe.
Thom smiled, shaking his head. Not that much had changed.
“Mey brought me back.” Turning to her, he continued, “Her voice. A dragon’s voice can give life, isn’t that what you said?”
“Yes,” she said softly, stepping away from him. He felt a sudden chill of loss at her absence from his side. “I put the mask on.”
Elerbee’s face lit up with interest and he moved with hurried steps to join them. “Really? What happened?”
As the two of them discussed what had happened when Mey had donned the mask, Thom lay back on the cot. He felt whole, however a bit weak. Mey glanced at him a couple of times, concern etched on her brow. He smiled to reassure her that he was fine.
Durlag and Bob joined the reunion shortly after the priest, who had kept diligent watch over him, came to check on Thom’s condition. Surprised to find him awake, the excited priest left the room to inform the others of Thom’s status.
Thom smiled through all the “Glad you’re back with us!” and “Welcome back.” comments, slaps on the back and questions.
His silence was noted, however. They had been listening to Mey’s account of how she had put on the mask and what she saw once she had done so, but now Bob looked at him questioningly.
“What did you see, Thom?” Bob asked him. “While you wandered the spiritual plane?”
Thom looked at him, but was quiet while he put his thoughts together. Before he could answer, Mey piped up.
“Tell them about the dragon. I’d like to hear more, as well.”
“Dragon?” Bob’s normally composed features, broke into surprise, something Thom had almost been convinced couldn’t happen.
Reborn (The Dragons of Cantor Book 1) Page 18