Alidyr leaned on the railing and looked to the south, where Syla’s Gate was now visible thanks to the torches and pyres. “You now control the Karathan army?”
“I always have. The leaders who opposed the New Dawn are dead.”
“Then prepare them to march on Syla’s Gate.” Alidyr was already going through the coming battle. He would not be able to avoid this one.
The elf was sure of his skill and had never back away from confrontation, but his strengths lied elsewhere. His brothers and sisters ran into battle perfectly, as though they were born for it, but Alidyr preferred to take the battle in from afar and see the bigger picture. That would be impossible with the ranger now. He had to ensure the ranger’s survival so he could question him until the gem was in his hands. Alidyr trusted this to no one, not even Nakir, as his brother was often blinded by his desire to fight and the bloodshed that followed.
“The entire army will not be needed to take back the Gate,” Nakir replied. “They have what, a few hundred men? Some of whom are women.”
“Don’t let Samandriel hear you say that; she’ll have your head.” Indeed that was a fight Alidyr would enjoy watching.
“My point, brother, is that we have three thousand men ready to fight. I don’t think we need to march all -”
“Three thousand?” Alidyr snapped his head around. “The emperor of The Arid Lands boasts an army of six thousand!”
“The emperor? That child can’t count to ten!”
Alidyr was standing before Nakir in the blink of an eye with his finger pressed against his chest. “No, brother, as you have pointed out, you are the true ruler of The Arid Lands. Where are your forces?”
“Spread between the four cities -”
“Why are they not here?” Alidyr spat.
“Most are on their way as we speak, but they will not be needed. The soldiers we have here can keep order while the Karathans outfit the Darkakin with their new armour and weapons.”
Alidyr was growing tired of Nakir’s incompetence. “You underestimate the Darkakin. When they get through those gates they will be more akin to a plague of locusts than men. We need to funnel ten thousand of them through the city, equip them, and move them north to Velia without incident. That cannot be done with three thousand men!”
Nakir clenched his jaw and bowed his head slightly out of respect. “What would you have me do, brother?”
“Have word sent to those travelling here; they must reach Karath before Paldora’s star crosses the night’s sky. Tomorrow, both you and I will march what army we have to the Gate. Also, you will ensure that every soldier knows of Asher and Princess Reyna. I want both alive.”
“As you wish.” Nakir bowed again and made to leave, only stopping before he reached the archway. “And what of the emperor? Faro?”
“When the Darkakin arrive it won’t matter who rules what. Chaos will reign in Karath after we march north. Kill the boy, or don’t… it doesn’t really matter.”
Alidyr remained outside for a while, looking down on the city. When Valanis was returned to power, he would burn it all down and replace it with a realm fit for the gods. The old elf knew he would see that vision through to its end.
Still, he worried about the herald of the gods…
Valanis slowly emerged from the sparkling pool, his head and flowing blond hair as dry as when he entered. The elf stopped before getting out completely and examined the shard of Paldora’s gem on his finger. It would give him moments of reprieve outside of the cavern, but it would never last. The goddess of the stars had intended him to have the gem in its entirety, ensuring his dominance over Naius’ magic.
With only his head visible, Valanis looked on at Thallan and Samandriel, only feet away. Samandriel appeared to have been in a fight, though her victory was unclear, with smoke rising from her cloak and a cut across her pale cheek. No human could have struck her so.
“How long was I under?” he asked.
Thallan stood up and genuflected before answering. “Days, master. Where were you? Alidyr said you went to Namdhor.”
Valanis ignored the questions and looked at Samandriel, her expression pained. “Have the Graycoats been dealt with?”
Samandriel hesitated. “No, master. The battalion from Namdhor wasn’t enough, the Graycoats were too skilled.”
“Not for you!” Valanis half rose from the water, baring his chiseled torso. “You could have killed them all.”
“They were assisted by elves, master. One of them commanded powerful magic.”
“Elves? In Illian?” Valanis weighed her words. “How many?”
“There are only three now,” the General replied with a wicked smile.
“A vanguard then. And you presented them with a common enemy?” Valanis had a tone of disappointment.
He was moments away from punishing her when the pressure changed inside the cavern. Valanis looked from Thallan to Samandriel and saw their mouths moving but there were no words finding his ears. The elf scooped his hand through the magical water and lifted a dozen small crystals from the water, but there was no sound. Valanis ignored his disciple’s confused expressions and sank back into the pool, fearing another seizure coming on. They had never effected one of his sense like this before, especially while he was in the pools.
We didn’t give you this power so you could take a bath…
Valanis looked about the cavern searching for the source of the familiar voice. There was never any mistaking the voice of Naius, the very god who had gifted him with such magic and left the pools behind.
My pools have restored you, now find The Veil!
Valanis could just make out the dark shadow of a lingering figure beyond the stalacmites. “I have searched through the archives in Namdhor, torn through the ruling houses of Dragorn and emptied the vaults of Stowhold, Lord Naius. The Veil is hidden from me!”
I gave you the gem! The seductive voice of Paldora came from above, where the gravity-defying pools sat.
We told you in the beginning, Naius said, the gem is only a means to an end. The Veil is all that matters!
Valanis could see that neither Thallan or Samandriel understood what was happening. They were speaking to each other but still no words could be heard by the herald.
Your kind was made to be strong…
This new voice carried more weight behind it. Paldora and Naius quickly faded away, as if scared by this new presence, but Valanis welcomed the king of the gods, privileged that he was to even hear his mighty voice. Atilan’s ethereal form continuously changed shape, keeping his true form hidden. The dark shadow spasmed and flickered between worlds as the greatest of gods hammered through the cavern, until he was at the lip of the pool, towering over Valanis.
I made you to be strong. The ethereal, smoke-like, figure leaned over the glistening pool. So be strong. I will give you what I can to sustain you with only the shard, but Paldora is sending you another gift, one foretold of a millennia ago.
Valanis thought immediately of the prophesy. “Paldora’s celestial gem graces daylight sky…”
And in its beauty ordains calamity… Atilan’s eyes flashed within his ever-changing face. Finish what you have put in motion. Bring the Darkakin home and lay waste to Illian. When the dust settles, The Veil will be revealed and our return will be assured.
“My Lord.” Valanis bowed his head and watched Atilan dip his finger into the pool. The elf gasped, his breath taken away, as the energy inside the magical waters intensified and the shard within his ring began to glow.
Then he at last opened his eyes, the king of the gods had disappeared and the sound of the world had returned.
“Master..?” Thallan was staring at the pool.
Valanis looked down and saw that he was now sitting in a pool of dark stones, the liquid crystals drained of their energy. The elf lifted a handful from the surface and saw that they were as lifeless as any rock, but the ring on his finger continued to glow.
“You were speaking in a la
nguage I have never heard,” Samandriel had tears in her eyes. “Was it the language of the gods?”
“What happened to the pool?” Thallan examined one of the dead crystals with concern.
Valanis stood up and walked out of the pool, bringing dozens of dull gems with him. “The gods are ever by our side. Their gifts know no bounds.” He inspected the shard and its new glow, similar to his own golden aura.
A wave of his hand had the dark robes and armour rising from the floor and adorning his naked body with ease. The menacing facial mask flew into his hand and he placed it over his head and drew the encompassing hood over the top.
“I think it’s time Illian witnessed the true power of the gods…”
IV
Part Four
28
Taking Flight
Gideon looked from Ilargo to Adriel and felt his palms become clammy and hot. Both elf and dragon watched the young mage with expectation and incredible patience. It was another beautiful day in southern Ayda, with a canvas of brilliant blue and not a cloud in sight. That was where they wanted to go…
We will do it together, Gideon. Ilargo dipped his wing to the ground, inviting the mage to climb on top of his back.
Flying was not something Gideon had found pleasant to date. It hadn’t helped that his dreams often had him falling through the sky, a topic he was determined to return to. If he survived the day’s training.
Off to the side, Galanör chuckled softly. “I never thought I’d see the day a Dragorn was afraid of heights…”
Gideon rolled his eyes. “I’m not afraid of heights. I’m afraid of falling!”
“You will be safe with Ilargo,” Adriel offered. “Galandavax and I will accompany you also.”
Ilargo walked over to Gideon, his long tail skimming the edge of the lake. The dragon simply lowered his head until the mage could place his own in the space between Ilargo’s eyes. The two shared a moment and Gideon felt Ilargo’s confidence and excitement fill him up as if it were his own. The young mage lifted a hand and stroked the softer pallet under Ilargo’s jaw, each scale silky and smooth against his skin.
“Together…” Gideon whispered.
Always…
Gideon grabbed one of the horns above Ilargo’s eye and pulled and twisted himself up, until he came to rest between two larger spikes on the dragon’s back. The green dragon roared into the air with elation and joy. There was no pause however, as Ilargo sprinted to the edge of the lake and took off, the force of which pulled Gideon closer to his long neck. His knuckles turned white when the dragon banked to the left and weaved between the floating boulders, aiming for the sky.
Are you ready?
Gideon’s heart was pounding so fast and his focus was entirely on his grip. He wanted to shout no at the top of his lungs and feel the ground under his feet once more, but his terror kept his mouth clamped shut. Upon feeling this, Ilargo continued to pour his emotions into the mage, mixing the two together until there was no distinguishing. As the dragon shot through the gap in the boulders and soared into the big blue above, Gideon felt his terror ease and a sense of calm weigh down on him.
The sound of the waterfall died away and Ilargo’s beating wings became a soothing reassurance. Gideon’s grip loosened and he pulled back slightly to take in the surreal environment. It felt good to fly without fleeing Sandstalkers or attacking Darkakin, but instead just to simply fly. The Red Mountains dropped away and all of Ayda was laid out beneath them.
Freedom. The word reverberated through Ilargo’s mind and settled in Gideon’s as if it was his thought.
The oasis of Dragons’ Reach looked all the more beautiful amid the dry lands of the south and The Flat Wastes to the west; a green gem in the desert.
“I want to go higher!” Gideon yelled over the wind, all fear abandoned now.
You don’t have to shout. I can hear you remember…
Gideon closed his eyes for a moment and said in his mind, I want to go higher! He could tell that the statement made Ilargo happy.
We cannot go much higher or the heavens will steal you from me.
The mage looked up and saw the faintest of stars looking back at him. Indeed the more he thought about it the more he realised how cold it was becoming and the air felt thinner. He dared to let go of the spike with one hand and reached for Abigail’s wand on his thigh. It was a small spell to restore the heat, but the air was another problem altogether.
IIlargo…
I know. And with that, the green dragon dived for a couple of hundred-feet and levelled out where the air was easier to breathe. The change in direction made Gideon’s stomach flip and he gripped the spikes again.
They continued to fly for a while, giving Gideon a chance to adapt to the sudden changes in direction, as well as learning the subtle changes in Ilargo’s muscles that would alert the mage to the dragon’s intentions. After an hour or so, the pair had drifted away from the Reach and glided over The Flat Wastes, giving them a clear view of the dense jungle known as The Great Maw. Further still, Gideon could make out the city of Malaysai in the heart of it, its pyramids and towers easy to spot.
It would be so easy, he thought. They could swoop in and set the whole city on fire before saving Adilandra.
Is that what you wish to do?
Gideon caught himself. Not having his mind to himself was going to take some getting used to.
I know I want to save Adilandra, and I certainly want to destroy that wretched city…
But…
I would not risk you or the others, you’re too important. They have too much Crissalith at their disposal.
There was a curiosity to Ilargo’s questions. The dragon did not appear opposed to the idea of attacking Malaysai, as Adriel was.
We are bonded now, Gideon. Our thoughts and wants will begin to align. Adriel shares Galandavax’s thoughts and memories, and both have seen more war than they would like.
Are you talking about the First War? Gideon had many questions on the subject.
For Galandavax, yes. Adriel wasn’t alive then.
Before Gideon could ask anything else, the elf and his enormous ebony dragon cast them in shadow. The pair soared above for a moment, before gliding down beside them. Adriel appeared regal astride Galandavax’s back; completely at ease.
“Hello, Gideon.” Adriel’s voice was inside his mind, just as Ilargo’s was. “Through the dragons, all Dragorn share a bond which allows us to communicate.”
“It’s getting awfully crowded in my mind.” Gideon noticed the two dragons flying perfectly together, each always aware of the other’s position.
“Imagine what it used to be like when there were hundreds of us…” Adriel adjusted his position to face Gideon better. “Are you ready for your next lesson?”
Gideon really didn’t like the tone of Adriel’s question. “No.”
Adriel laughed, though the melodic sound could not be heard. “You must have faith and trust in Ilargo. As long as you are together, the sky is your realm too.”
The elf extended his hand and Gideon realised too late what was about to happen. The concussive force knocked him from the dragon’s back and sent him careening over the side. The mage scrambled for the wing, but his grip was for naught. He fell, and this time it wasn’t a dream. Gideon flipped end-over-end, with his limbs swinging in every direction, and the view constantly changing from sky to land.
Balance yourself, Ilargo uttered. Give into the fall and relax; then you will balance.
Gideon thought about every expletive response he could give, but instead he heard Adriel instructing him to have faith in Ilargo. Despite his plummet, the mage relaxed his muscles and felt for the pull of the earth, until he was finally able to turn in the air, allowing his back to face the sky. With his arms and legs out, Gideon continued to fall, taking in shallow breaths as he did.
The sight of Ilargo was pure relief. The green dragon glided underneath him, the membrane of his wings filled like that of a sail. It took a
moment longer for the two to match their speed. Gideon gripped the familiar spikes and pulled himself into place, just as Ilargo flapped his wings and sent them back into the sky. It was only then that Gideon saw just how close they had both come to meeting the ground.
That was fun!
Gideon didn’t yet share that particular emotion…
Galanör had started running as soon as Adriel and Galandavax left the ground. The elf knew exactly where he was going and had no intention of stopping until he got there. His unrivalled stamina and strength proved true, allowing him to move through the oasis with grace and ease. His tattered cloak flew out behind him and his dual swords clung tightly to his hips.
There was nothing else to be done.
That thought had rattled around inside his mind for days and it was the only thing that kept him running. The guilt was almost crushing when he launched the first fireball. Using his magic to destroy life, even that of a tree felt inherently wrong. But burn them he did. His stride never faltered and the balls of fire erupted from his hands, each spell finding the heart of a great tree and setting it ablaze. The fire spread quickly, finding the neighboring trees and bushes.
It wasn’t long before the oasis had a burning, black line cutting it in half. Galanör could hear the wood burning and the fire crackling behind him, but still he pushed on. Anything that was lush and green he set on fire. The damage had to be as widespread as possible.
The elf skidded to a stop at the edge of the clearing where Malliath rested; the smoke was already drifting through the trees. As predicted, the other dragons could not ignore the size of the growing blaze. Galanör knew that another distraction wouldn’t work, unless it put the entire Reach in jeopardy. Malliath remained low to the ground, appearing entirely ignorant of the fire. Galanör waited another moment for the last of the guarding dragons to disappear overhead before making his move.
The warrior had given his approach much consideration. He didn’t want to surprise the dragon, but instead give the great wyrm some notice. Galanör strode into the field of broken logs and fallen trees, balling his fists to keep his nerve.
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