She froze. A tiny creature stood right in front of her. It glowed a soft blue and the wings lining its back fluttered sporadically. Two long antenna curled up from its oval head. The eyes were large and set close together. Insect-like legs lined it’s small, thin body but at the end of each leg, there were three slender fingers. The tail end of its body was larger, and a very sharp spike gleamed at the tip of the bulbous back. It leaned in to her. Curiosity washed over her in a thick wave as a tiny hand reached out and gently touched one of the fingers of her hand that was unmoving on the ground before her.
A burst of color moved all around her and she blinked. A dozen more of the small beings perched on the ground and the fallen log. Mey’s stomach lurched at the swirl of emotions flooding through her, compeling her to close her eyes again and lower her head. Forcing her breath to slow, she steadied herself and dared another look.
“Sprites,” she said in wonder.
“Mey?” Thom’s deeper voice behind her threw another wave of fear and the small creatures scattered and hid.
“It’s alright,” she directed to the sprites. “I’m okay,” she told Thom. “Did you see them? They are wondrous! I’ve never seen anything like them.” The fear started to subside. “Come out again. No one here will hurt you.”
A small glowing head poked up from beneath a blanket of fallen leaves, the eyes wide and unblinking.
“He won’t hurt you,” she told it. Reaching out again, Mey offered her hand, the sprite touched her finger lightly. Wave after wave of fear crashed through her and thudded in her chest. “They are frightened of you.”
“It’s speaking with you?”
“No, not speaking. Feeling. It feels afraid.”
Mey heard the others slowly approach and felt the fear of the sprite increase. So much so, she thought her heart would leap from her chest.
“They are my friends,” she told it. “Nothing to be afraid of. We’re not here to harm you.”
Her heart calmed quickly and the sprite stepped closer, inch by inch. The curiosity overtaking the fear gradually. Large eyes took in each of them in turn. Sadness returned through all the other emotions.
“Why are you sad?” she whispered to the small creature. It flitted its wings and rose, leveling itself with her face. Looking away, then back again, it moved off.
“I think we’re supposed to follow it.” Elerbee said.
Dozens of the tiny beings rose from the leaves, the fallen logs, and from behind bushes to surround the group. Their quick movements were almost impossible for the eye to follow. They glowed with a faint blue light which reminded Mey of the glow that emanated from Elerbee’s divine shield.
A sputtering noise accompanied by grumbling made her turn. Durlag swatted at the small flying sprites as they pulled at his whiskers while darting about his head.
“Durned gnats, is all ye are!” he muttered, trying to dislodge the knot two had managed to tie in his long beard. “Just ye wait, bugs! If I get me hands on a fly swatter…HEY!” He took off after one who had managed to lug the flask from the dwarf’s belt.
Mey laughed as a feeling of glee passed through her. It felt good, even if it was mostly influenced by the playful sprites.
She matched her pace with Thom and they headed further into the island’s dense forest. The good feelings faded as they traveled and the profound sadness and helpless feelings returned. A faint smell of rot stung her nose. Her steps faltered and she turned to look at her uncle. When their eyes met, she knew he could feel it too. This land was dying.
The trees were twisted and sagging, leaves fallen in piles at their bases. The decaying foliage was blackened and a foul, slick substance oozed from the bark of the trees. The smell was almost unbearable. It was death and rot and evil permeating through every fiber of this place. A sob choked her as she stopped and felt the stabbing panic that was bombarding her.
The sprite hovered at shoulder height, its eyes pleading with her. It dashed behind her, unwilling to go any further.
“Uncle…”
“Evil is taking this land,” Bob said without having to hear her question.
Forcing each foot in front of the other, Mey moved slowly, careful not to touch the viscous slime that coated the limbs of the trees. At first she mistook the tug in her chest as her own sorrow for the destruction she was seeing. But as it grew stronger, she realized it was coming from outside her, almost as if fingers had grasped through her flesh and taken hold of her bones and were pulling her forward. It wasn’t painful; powerful, uncomfortable if she stopped, it propelled her. Mey had never felt anything like it.
“Wait.” Thom laid a restraining hand on her shoulder. “The demon.” He turned to Elerbee. “We need a shield. As much as you’ve got.”
“I can do better than that.” Elerbee smiled. “I can boost each of you just enough to make your strikes slightly more powerful. As well as the shield.”
Elerbee closed his eyes, lips moving as he prayed. Mey felt her energy increase starting at the top of her head and quickly flowing through to the tips of her toes. Thom was already moving forward with a plan.
“Bob, you and Mey should move around behind it. You’ll have the best chance of surprising it. Durlag…”
“I’m no sneak. I’ll take the beastie face to face.”
“Right. Elerbee, you and I can flank it on either side. I’ve a few far-reaching spells. You concentrate on keeping us alive.”
“Thom, I have to…” The tug was getting stronger. “I have to go.” A familiar heat simmered in her middle, not quite bubbling over.
“The Heartstone.” Bob looked at Thom. A silent communication passed between them, and Thom nodded.
“Mey, stay close to your uncle.”
“I have to…go…”
She had to walk. Had to keep going. It was the only way to keep the heat from exploding. She still felt the wary fear on the edges, but the pull was her central thought.
Instinct had her crouching after a few minutes, searching for shadows, dark spots, anywhere she could hide. She was only mildly aware of her uncle beside her. A gurgling snarl ripped the silence that had shrouded them thus far and a sulfuric smell stung her nostrils, making her eyes water. Hand flying to cover her nose and mouth, Mey gagged.
Flattening herself against the ground, she peered through a tangle of dried limbs that had once been a small bush. Colors. Hundreds of them. There were beautiful hues of blue, green, purple, and red - some she had never seen before in her life. They swirled together and swam through tiny veins that lined the enormous wings attached to the long, serpentine body. The next thing she saw were arms, humanoid, lots of them. At least six. Swallowing back excruciating fear that knotted her throat, Mey let her gaze sweep up the slick, red body. She recoiled, bumping into her uncle, and stopping her from retreating any further. Only one eye sat in the middle of the face. Another growl erupted from the long snout as bubbling saliva dripped from the small, razor-like teeth.
Her heart started pounding in her ears, her breath coming fast. An indescribable fear overwhelmed her. Never before had she felt so strong a terror. Her uncle’s steadying hand was on her shoulder, keeping her from standing and revealing herself. Looking to her left, she nearly gagged again. There, on the ground was what appeared to be the bottom half of a man. The clothes denoted it to be a person, but it was missing shoes, and the feet were mostly skeletal, bits of flesh clinging to the bone.
The pounding grew louder and Mey was certain her heart would beat right out of her chest. Surely the monster heard, it was so loud. Her uncle had nocked an arrow and aimed it at the towering beast.
“Ah, what a mixture of treats,” the monster’s many voices all spoke in unison.
Oh, gods, it speaks, Mey thought. If she hadn’t been on the ground already, she was certain she would have fallen to her knees at the sound. It turned her flesh clammy and her insides felt like liquid.
“I smell you. Humans, dwarves, elves…and…,” his head whipped left to right.
“What do we have here?” There was a sick glee in its voices as they cackled together. “Dragon!”
The pounding in her ears grew to an almost unbearable level. In her urgent need for comfort, she automatically sought out Thom. The look on his face was full of pain. He was struggling, obviously, with staying put or running away as fast as he could. His chest was heaving with the effort of breathing, teeth clenched; she would find no comfort there.
Seeking out the others in her company in a sweeping gaze told her they were each battling with their own fear. Letting her eyes glide past the demon once more, something caught her attention. Instantly, the glowing pulse held her and drew her.
All tension melted and ran out of her body. It was obvious now that the pounding she heard was not her own heart alone but her life-beat mixed with the magical life of this object. This was it! What she had come for; it called her and pulled her. Overwhelming need to put her hands on it and posses it propelled her into movement. Pushing back up into a crouch, Mey glanced at her uncle. A vein ticked in his jaw, giving away his struggle with his own fear. Without thinking, she stood.
“I am dragon!” she bellowed above the roar in her ears.
The demon turned its full attention to her and Mey’s stomach churned at the grin that spread across its disgusting face. It opened its maw and screamed at her.
The sound was excruciating. Her ears felt as if they would burst and she covered them quickly with her hands. Before she knew it, she had opened her own mouth, letting her own scream mingle with the many voices of the demon.
The Zar’leith threw its head back. Not sure, but the scream it hand unleashed seemed to Mey to be weakening. Another voice broke her concentration. A dwarven battle-cry. From her peripheral sight, Durlag charged straight in at the monster. Then everything exploded into action at once.
There were bright bursts of light glowing magical auras surrounding everything. Arrows flew past her head, striking the demon one after another with lightning speed. Fire exploded throughout Mey’s body. In one leap she thrust herself upward toward the limb of a bare tree. She would lose her cover, but she had to keep the demon distracted from her friends.
A huge clawed hand reached for her as she flew up, missing her by mere inches. More arrows shot past her and thudded into the arm, the demon crying out in rage.
Gripping the bone handle of Makagesh, she pulled the dagger from her belt. A surge of power flowed from him into her hand and up her arm to combine with her own dragon spirit. The hand holding the blade was both familiar and alien to her at the same time. A smattering of soft scales covered the hand, more akin to a claw than anything else. That thought only registered for a moment.
Leaping from limb to limb of the skeletal trees around the clearing, Mey found her way behind the demon as it twisted, trying to follow her movement. The bombardment of magic and mortal weapons, however, divided its attention. Another scream ripped from its lips, definitely weaker this time.
The heart.
It was only a whisper on the wind, but the words were distinct. Pausing briefly, the voice registering somewhere in her memory as one she knew.
Yes, aim for its heart. Accessing the mental bond with her uncle, she relayed that information quickly to him. A volley of arrows flew into the Zar’leith’s chest. Most bounced off the thick, slimy skin of the creature, but one hit home. It was not buried deeply enough to pierce the evil core of the demon, but Mey found herself flying into action.
She moved through the limbs, positioning herself in plain view of the arrow, she drew back her arm, poised to throw, as the Zar’leith raised his own to grasp the protruding arrow. She was quicker.
Makagesh spun toward the fletched end of the arrow, spiraling as it soared through the sulfuric air surrounding the beast. The thick, bulky handle of the dagger hit with a force that shoved the arrow deeper into the demon’s chest.
The scream that bellowed from the Zar’leith was a thousand decibels louder than any sound Mey had ever heard. Her bones threatened to snap and her head felt as if it would fold in upon itself with the force of the noise. Massive arms reached for her; she had nowhere to go, even if she could move. She was frozen, perched on the brittle limb of a dead tree. The hands flailing at her stopped, suddenly hitting a force surrounding her, electricity snapping and popping at the contact. She looked down. Elerbee, on his knees, blood trickling from one ear and nostrils, held out his arms to her, divine power flowing in a solid stream to surround and protect her.
The Zar’leith teetered several times, its scream forcing them all to retreat as far as they could. As the beast crashed to the floor of the forest, Mey jumped from her perch to use her body to shield Elerbee, who was on all fours, struggling to stay upright. She gathered him into her arms, bending her body to cover his. He felt limp and lifeless in her grip. The thrashing body of the demon smashed to the ground, shaking the world around them. There were several more convulsive movements as the demon clung to existence. Mey didn’t watch, she focused on her friend, speaking softly to him, assuring him they had beaten the demon and accomplished their goal. He was still breathing; she could feel his chest moving against her.
Quiet settled around them. No more movement or noise emanated from the direction of where the demon fell. Mey’s head cleared and she could again hear the pulsing of the magic from the stone the demon had tried to keep from her. Elerbee moved beneath her and she scrambled back to give him room.
Tears ran down his cheeks, blood trickled from his nose and ears, but his color was good and he nodded at her.
“I’m alright.”
Her eyes locked on his. She felt the connecting bond that stretched between them like a pathway into one another’s minds and thoughts. A beautiful warm light flowed from him.
Mey turned to face the glowing, pulsating stone. It pulled at her like a magnet drawing metal. She couldn’t stop it any longer and she moved slowly toward it. Kneeling before a small tangle of branches and bones, she peered into the pile.
The glow reached out and surrounded her, seeping into every pore on her body. Her hands moved out to push back the debris. A stone, the size of her hand, rested on a bed of dead leaves. Cradling both hands around it, she scooped it up. The moment she touched it, a barrage of images assailed her.
A woman, so lovely she brought tears to Mey’s eyes stood with arms outstretched, her soft lavender-hued hair blowing around her face in an invisible wind. She knew this woman. But how? She had never met her.
“Mother.” It was a whisper, barely audible even to her own ears.
The woman smiled. Mey sighed, feeling the love surround and enfold her. The image faded and others took its place. Garrin’s face flitted through her mind several times, glimpses of a town, burned with small bodies strewn about the street. Dwarves? She was not familiar with any of the blackened structures that stood in varying states of destruction, and then the vision sped through another landscape. A thick, lush forest, huge oakwood trees dominating the background. A quick image of what looked to be the opening of a cave flashed before her. Then she was blinking the tears out of her eyes, the visions gone, but the blurred figures of her friends surrounding her.
Strong, supporting hands grasped her arms. Arms covered in the iridescent purple scales she had noticed earlier, running down and over her hands. Mey stared at the hands holding her, past the glowing stone she held, following them upward to look directly into Thom’s clear, ice-blue eyes.
TWENTY-TWO
Stumbling their way across the island terrain, Mey and the group found Lon’s boat waiting just where he said he’d be. She had never seen a more welcome sight. Still gripping the Heartstone in one hand, she climbed up the rope ladder Lon threw down to them awkwardly with one hand.
In a daze, she let Thom lead her to the small sleeping quarters. She cried, laughed, and confessed a myriad of transgressions. He sat silently, listening, letting her break apart and comforting her when she thought all was lost. All the while, the boat headed toward Ra
ch-Ordin, the port city into the Rachnor Pass. Mey was convinced they should head into these dwarven cities, although she would not confess why. How could she tell Durlag what she had seen? All those dead and dying, their city burning around them. Another barrage of tears flooded her eyes and Thom held her as she let the sobs take her. The Heartstone was wreaking havoc on her emotionally.
“Your vision, when you first held the stone, what was it?” he asked.
Mey only shook her head.
“But you kept saying you saw them, all dead.”
“I don’t remember.”
Taking her face in his hands, making her look at him, he asked again.
“What did you see, Mey?”
She wanted to tell him; no, needed to tell him. She so badly needed to confide the overwhelming feelings and visions. She knew she could trust him but there was a nagging logic that would always hold her back from giving him everything. That part of her was convinced as soon as she did, he would disappear forever. Ignoring what she considered her better judgment, she let it all out.
“I saw my mother.” Tears gathered in her eyes once more. How was there still more? Her eyes felt raw and fevered from the constant flow. “I’ve never seen her before, but I knew her instantly. She was so beautiful and there was so much love.” Wrapping her arms around herself, Mey closed her eyes trying to hold all those wonderful feelings in.
“Did she speak to you?” he asked gently.
Shaking her head, letting the tears pour over her cheeks, Mey looked at him.
“No. But I’m sure what I saw was her telling me where to go next. Dwarves. Lots of them. Lying dead in the streets, while a city burned around them. Oh, Thom, how could I tell Durlag what I had seen? I don’t even know what it means!”
He put his arms around her and pulled her closer, but kept silent.
“Then there was a forest. I’ve never seen so many oakwood trees. It was full of them. Is there a forest of oakwoods?”
Reborn (The Dragons of Cantor Book 1) Page 24