“If it’s fame you’re worried about then it’s a little too late,” Nathaniel replied with a smirk. “As if fighting Ro Dosarn in the halls of the Velian palace weren’t talked about enough, you’re efforts at West Fellion will have you known across the land. And before all that, you were already infamous for saving Queen Isabella so many years ago.” Nathaniel paused to ensure he had the ranger’s full attention. “The assassin is dead and the ranger has risen...”
Asher didn’t look convinced.
“What will the ranger do next?” Reyna added in her melodic tones.
Asher took a slow breath and met all of their eyes. “I threw it in the pit.”
Nathaniel’s expression of confusion was shared with Reyna and Faylen. During his time as a Graycoat he had been to a lot of places and seen a lot of things that most men would run away from, but he had never heard of the pit.
“When your training is complete, there’s one final test that every student must pass to become an Arakesh. The pit is located deep in the heart of Nightfall. It was built centuries ago, probably under the orders of Alidyr. Every student has to go into the pit and find a way out the other side. It’s pitch black down there, a place where sunlight has never touched. A true test to ensure your bond with the Nightseye elixir is everlasting. There are monsters under Nightfall that have never been seen before, nightmares that cannot be described. It’s one of the reasons why the Arakesh are so few; only a handful of those who descend into the pit find a way back out.”
“And you dropped Paldora’s gem in there?” Faylen asked in despair.
“I knew it was magic, and powerful.” Asher leant against the window ledge. “I was younger back then, more competitive. I didn’t want any of the others to find it and use it, and the gem had already gained the attention of a few of the others. I cut a shard off, crafted the ring and threw the rest away.” The group stood in silence for a moment, digesting the ranger’s words.
“So, we’re going to Nightfall...” Nathaniel just had to say it out loud to believe it.
“I told you; suicide,” Asher replied dryly.
“Where is it?” Nathaniel asked. For the first time in his life, he didn’t really want to know. As a Graycoat he had been driven to locate the ancient school for assassins, but now, after hearing Asher’s description of the pit, he wasn’t so sure he wanted to find it.
“The only place further south is Syla’s Gate,” Asher said.
“The Arid Lands?” Reyna exclaimed. “I’ve never seen a desert!”
“Nor do you want to,” Asher continued. “The only creatures that thrive there are predators, the people included. The desert makes you hard. If we’re actually going to travel there we’ll need supplies, lots of supplies. We don’t want to be stopping in Tregaran on the border. We need to head straight for Karath, the capital, and head east from there.”
“That could be a problem.” Faylen dropped a small sack of coins on the table. “That’s all that’s left.”
“We could stay in Vangarth for a while,” Nathaniel suggested. “I’m sure there’s work for a group of our skill-set.”
“That would take too long,” Faylen quickly replied. “A journey that far south will take many days; we need to leave soon.”
“We won’t last long if we leave in haste and without supplies.” Reyna came to stand beside Nathaniel, as she often did.
Asher cleared his throat. “I know a place where we can get coin and supplies.” All eyes fell on the ranger, who would always have an edge of mystery to him it seemed. “Stowhold has one of their banks in Lirian, and I have friends there that can meet our needs.”
“A bank?” Reyna asked.
“Friends?” Nathaniel asked a little too skeptically.
Asher responded with a knowing smile, as if he too knew that the likelihood of him having other friends was slim and hard to believe.
“I have an account within Stowhold. It was part of my deal with King Rengar for escorting you to Velia. We can take enough coin to buy our supplies and find an escort through the Moonlit Plains.”
“He gave you an account at Stowhold?” Nathaniel knew well of the prestigious bank and the privileged members that held accounts therein. Only the request from a king could have gotten Asher’s name on the ledger. “How much did he give you?”
“No limits...” Asher replied with a wide smile.
Nathaniel whistled. “He really wanted you at his party.” The knight looked to Reyna who, still appeared confused at the idea of a bank.
“King Rengar considers himself a good judge of character,” Asher continued. “He thinks of me as a simple man with simple needs. His children probably spend more in a week than I plan on spending in a lifetime, though something tells me he’ll have people watching the account to ensure my tastes remain cheap.”
“Why must we pay for an escort through the Moonlit Plains?” Faylen asked. “Surely we four can handle a few wild Centaurs.”
“Only fools travel through those plains in numbers this small,” Asher explained. “Best we pay for escorts or offer to be escorts. The larger the caravan the better.”
“We’ve already lost too much light.” Faylen looked to the setting sun. “We use what coin we have left to buy four horses and leave at dawn.”
“Three horses,” Asher corrected with a wry smile. “I’ll take care of the fourth.”
“So that’s it then,” Reyna announced eagerly, as if Asher’s description of the pit had never been told. “We go to Lirian, pick up supplies and coin, travel south to Nightfall, enter the pit, find the gem and kill Valanis.”
Asher groaned and dropped his face into his hand. “We’re all going to die...”
6
The Spectacle Of Dragons
Scrambling over the lip of the last rock, Gideon tried to ignore the pain in his hands and forearms. It had taken him almost an hour to navigate the floating boulder, but the climb had been made easier by the thick roots that rose from the ground and wrapped around the slab of rock, as if it had been ensnared by a giant octopus. A small spell had turned the palms and fingers of his hands into rough calices, increasing his grip. He could have used other magic to levitate himself to the top of the boulder, but he enjoyed testing his physical limits.
The surface of the boulder was covered in a thin layer of green moss, with sporadic patches of grass, which made it soft underfoot. The mage adjusted the staff on his back and walked towards the horizon, his eyes fixed on the magnificent landscape around him.
“Incredible...”
In the heart of the giant crater, known as Dragons’ Reach, Gideon stood atop one of the dozen floating rocks that made up the home of the oldest creatures in Verda. The magical epicentre was surrounded by lush forestry and fields of green, an oasis in the middle of a mountainous desert. Beyond the tips of those mountains was The Flat Wastes and The Great Maw, a dense jungle that swallowed up the Darkakin city, Malaysai. Thankfully that nightmarish place couldn’t be seen from this paradise. The only sound came from the roar of the waterfall that cut through the heart of Dragons’ Reach.
The sun was beginning to touch the tops of the distant mountains, turning the sky into shades of burnt orange and lilac. The beautiful sunset wasn’t enough to capture Gideon’s imagination however, for all around him were dozens of dragons flying and gliding over the trees and piercing the clouds. The mage had been watching them for weeks now, and still he couldn’t take his eyes off of them, entranced as he was.
“Magnificent, aren’t they?” Galanör was sat on the edge of the boulder with his legs hanging over the side. The elf apparently had no fear of heights.
“No creature can match their grace,” Gideon offered, taking a perch next to the elf. In truth he had climbed the floating rock to speak with Galanör, before the landscape distracted him.
“I’ve been around creatures that exude a magical aura before,” Galanör continued, “but I’ve never experienced...” The elf looked at his hands in disbelief. “I can
feel their power rolling over my skin, as if my entire body is vibrating.”
“I feel it too,” Gideon replied, except for the mage it felt as if a warm aura had settled inside his chest and continued to pulse throughout his body. “Being here, I feel safe and content... happy even.”
“I know what you mean.” Galanör’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “But you can’t be sure can you? Do you feel safe and content, or is your happiness a simple reflection of their own.”
Gideon looked from Galanör to the dragons flying above. He had already thought about the elf’s comment and wondered if the dragons’ unique method of communication was affecting his own emotions.
The beating of mighty wings preceded the melodic voice of Adriel. “I assure you Galanör of House Reveeri, when a dragon wishes to communicate with you, you will know about it.”
Both Gideon and Galanör rose to their feet as a dragon, coated in ebony scales, that glittered with silver, landed atop the floating boulder. Its thick neck drooped and lowered a head the size of a horse, allowing them a better view of Adriel, who was sitting astride the dragon, between two spikes. The last of the Dragorn slid from his perch and landed gracefully between the dragon’s chest and wing.
“This is Galandavax.” Adriel stepped aside and swept his arm to encompass the spectacular creature. “He and I have been paired for seventeen hundred years now.” Galandavax shook his mighty head, before arching back on his hind legs and taking off into the sky. “Alas, he would sleep now. I apologise for my absence, I realise that you both have a lot of questions and I left so suddenly after you arrived. Galandavax and I have always hunted together you see, and when he decides to hunt there is nothing that can stop him.”
“You’ve been hunting for a tenday?” Galanör asked.
Gideon could hear the frustration in the elf’s voice. For a tenday they had been left to their own devices in a land they didn’t know, surrounded by the best predators in the world and no answers as to why Dragons’ Reach even existed.
“Galandavax requires several tons of meat to sate his appetite.” Adriel walked over the soft moss with bare feet.
Gideon took special note of the green moss that grew in abundance around his feet, as if drawn to Adriel. The elf’s usual flowing robes were now fastened tightly around his waist with several belts. The elf had no weapons but a simple, yet ornate, dagger sheathed across his waist.
Adriel placed himself in the centre of the boulder and sat cross-legged, while his long, blond hair blew gently in the breeze about him. The elf had an air of calmness to him that put Gideon at ease, almost imitating the way of the dragons and casting his own empathy over them.
“We have a lot of questions,” Galanör stepped closer to Adriel, but remained standing over the Dragorn, “but more than that, we are running out of time. The queen, our queen, Adilandra Sevari is a prisoner of the Darkakin! She is being kept in the palace in Malaysai, but I don’t know how long they will keep her alive. Before we found her she was forced to fight in their barbaric arena...” Galanör couldn’t go on and Gideon could hear the despair in his voice. They both knew there was a good chance Adilandra was dead by now.
“No.” Adriel stated flatly to the unasked question.
Galanör looked around at the flying dragons in disbelief, before turning his angry gaze back to Adriel. “No? How can you say no? There are enough dragons here to raze Malaysai to the ground!”
With a sympathising look, Adriel raised his hand to stop Galanör from shouting, but it was too late. The boulder shook when a dragon came to land behind the ancient elf, its emerald head pointed low and golden eyes fixed on Galanör. The striking green scales and sheer size of the dragon gave away its identity as Rainael the emerald star, queen of the dragons. On the other side of Adriel, a smaller, but no less awe-inspiring, dragon also came to land, with its thick claws digging into the rock. The dazzling young dragon was called Ilargo. His scales had a lighter shade of green and gold specks that twinkled in the dying light. Gideon recognised him from the arena in Malaysai, when Ilargo had been freed with another dragon called Bravog.
Without warning, both Gideon and Galanör were overcome with the feeling of being insulted, as if Adriel had just shouted at them in their home. The feeling only lasted for a few seconds but it was enough to convey Rainael’s irritation. They both took a breath and glanced at each other; now they knew what it felt like to be spoken to by a dragon.
“I’m afraid we cannot help you,” Adriel said. “You saw it yourself when Malliath dropped into the arena. The Darkakin captured and imprisoned Ilargo and Bravog over a month ago, before they were rescued upon your arrival in these lands. We attempted to reclaim them but almost lost more dragons in the process.”
“How did the Darkakin capture two dragons?” Gideon asked. “They don’t even use magic.”
“Even with magic it is hard to bring down a dragon,” Adriel explained. “But with anti-magic, it is quite easy...”
“What’s anti-magic?” Gideon looked to Galanör, who appeared similarly confused.
“I had never heard of it either during my time in Illian, but Rainael and Galandavax told me of it…” Adriel adopted a grave tone. “Crissalith it was called. They knew it from another age, before even the elves walked the earth. The Darkakin must have discovered the stones, though I know not where. They appear as green crystals, but their beauty is deadly. Ilargo and Bravog were out hunting when the Darkakin sprung their trap. In the presence of the stones the dragons grow weak, until they cannot even fly or breathe fire. The Darkakin sharpen them and affix them to spears for their hunts.”
“You won’t help us free Adilandra because you’re afraid of some rocks?” Galanör’s tone was becoming aggressive again.
Rainael took in a sharp breath and looked to Adriel. The two shared a moment of what appeared to be silence, before the emerald dragon spread her wings and dropped off the side of the floating boulder. She continued to drop, until at the last moment she glided over the tops of the trees, ducking and weaving between the floating rocks. Ilargo remained behind and padded along, behind Adriel, always watching Gideon as he did. The mage felt scrutinised by those boring, blue eyes, as if the dragon was looking into him.
“Dragons are the fiercest, most noble and honourable of all creatures,” Adriel said in the wake of Rainael’s dramatic departure. “But with nobility and honour comes sensitivity. The first rule of living among dragons; stay on their good side.” Adriel smiled and rose to his feet, when Ilargo dipped his horned head affectionately into the elf’s shoulder, his stunning eyes always on Gideon. “Should you wish to return to Illian, Galandavax will take you both as far as The Black Road, in the north. From there you can journey to wherever our people have settled in Ayda. I’m sure they will see you returned to the west safely.”
“The Black Road?” Gideon had seen the name on the map he had stolen from the pyramid in Malaysai. The mage pulled the parchment out of his satchel and unravelled it with both hands.
“Our people live south of The Crystal Sea, in The Amara. The city is called Elandril, you may have heard the name...” Galanör said.
Adriel tilted his head, guarding his expression. “Named for the first Dragorn.”
“His lineage is followed by our king, Elym Sevari, whose wife, our queen, is a prisoner in Malaysai!”
Adriel’s calm demeanour was obviously irritating Galanör, and Gideon could feel the awkward tension building between the two elves.
Gideon cleared his throat. “The Black Road is beneath a desert by the looks of this.” The mage held up the map for the others to see.
“It’s two hundred and fifty miles of sand,” Galanör grimly replied. “Once we reach Eternity’s Edge it’s another two hundred miles until the nearest river. It’s a death sentence.”
“Queen Adilandra made the journey...” Adriel pointed out.
“You’re just afraid we’ll tell others of this place.” Galanör was like a dog with a bone. “You’ve li
ved in this paradise for so long that you have forgotten the rest of the world! All of Verda is about to be plunged into a war to end all wars, and you’re living with the very creatures that could tip the scale! We need to free the queen, warn the Illians and somehow find a way to ally them with King Elym. Three Darkakin armies are marching into Illian as we speak!”
“The answer is still no, I’m afraid.”
Galanör snarled in a very un-elf like way. “The Dragorn I read about were warriors all! They rode their dragons into battle and knew no fear. It should be you leading us against Valanis’ forces!”
“You have been greatly miss-informed about the Dragorn.” Adriel strolled to the edge of the boulder, calm as ever. “The Dragorn were peacekeepers where needed, but it was never enforced through violence, only wisdom. And you don’t ride a dragon; no one rides a dragon...” Adriel stepped off the boulder without warning and dropped from sight.
Gideon gasped and ran for the edge with Galanör. The pair jumped back in surprise when Galandavax’s hulking form soared into the sky, past the floating boulder, with Adriel sat at the base of his thick neck. The two were perfectly in sync with each other, always aware of where the other was and what they were thinking. Gideon could only look on in amazement, unlike Galanör.
“Then we will go!” Galanör shouted at the shrinking image of Galandavax. The elf reached down and collected his scimitars from the ground. “I will not let her rot inside that city.”
Before Gideon could offer any advice, the elf hopped off the side and half climbed, half slid down the boulder with incredible speed.
The mage sighed. “I only just got up here...” A guttural, yet apparently questioning, sound reverberated inside Ilargo’s meaty throat. The blue-eyed dragon was off to the side, looking at Gideon with his head tilted like an inquisitive dog. “Nice dragon...” The mage slowly stepped back, hoping to all the gods that Ilargo had already eaten.
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