by Diana Green
“I have to get away from here.” The words rushed from her, accompanied by fresh tears. “If he uses me for another spell, I’ll die. I know it. I barely survived this time.”
He moved closer and put his arms around her. She melted into the embrace, letting his kindness surround her like a warm cloak. It was the first time she’d felt safe since her capture.
“Can you tell me what happened?” Concern threaded his voice.
She shuddered at the memory but managed to describe how the sorcerer bound her with magic, drawing on her life force as a source of power. Worry darkened Hathos’ eyes as he listened.
“I didn’t know such a thing was possible,” he said. “It’s a terrible magic, one no decent individual would use.”
“The sorcerer is completely mad. He doesn’t care how much he hurts me. I have to find a way to escape.”
His jaw tightened, and his hands curled into fists. “If only I wasn’t stuck in that damn dungeon. I feel so useless!”
“Dungeon! What do you mean?” This was the first she’d heard of it.
“Your father has me locked up, along with my friend Valla. He thinks we’re connected to your disappearance.”
“You’ve met my father?” Hathos was closer than she’d realized. Perhaps that’s why his presence in this dream seemed so clear and strong. He might be only a few leagues away.
“We were brought before him yesterday. He didn’t believe a word I said, but your brother seemed to. He’s the only reason we weren’t beaten to a pulp, or worse.”
“Orlis defended you?”
“Quite eloquently.”
“Are you sure that’s Orlis we’re talking about?”
“I’m positive. Your father called him by name, and I couldn’t mistake his resemblance to you.”
“I never thought of my brother as eloquent, but I’m glad he came to your aid.”
“He also visited the dungeon and snuck us food.”
This gave her an idea. “If he comes again, I have a message for you to pass along. It might prove to him that you’re telling the truth about our shared dreams.”
Hathos’ countenance brightened, hope lighting his handsome face. For a moment, Oliana lost herself in admiring him. He was more appealing than any of her suitors, and not only in looks. She liked everything about him, from his rich melodic voice, to his healing hands, and gentle nature.
“Tell Orlis, if he helps free you, I’ll write him a fantastic love poem for Lirris.” Surely, no one else knew of their last conversation, in the garden. Orlis would hardly boast about getting his sister to help him write a love poem.
“That will convince him?”
“It should. Especially if he’s already sympathetic to your cause.”
“Excellent!” Hathos smiled broadly. “Once we’re free, it’s just a matter of finding you. Right now, I can feel the pull of our connection stronger than ever. I should be able to follow it to your location.”
“I wish I could show you what the island and the tower look like,” she said. “It’d make your search easier.”
“Maybe you can.” He took her hand, giving it an encouraging squeeze. “Try picturing the place very clearly in your mind. Then visualize taking me there. Since we’re dreaming, it may work.”
“I don’t have any magical abilities,” she countered. “I’ve never been able to control my dreams.”
“Yet you called me, all the way from the Drake’s Teeth Mountains. If that isn’t magic, what is?”
“All right. I’ll try.” She closed her eyes, focusing on an image of the island and the crumbling tower. With effort, she pictured details of the scene, making it as vivid and lifelike as possible.
Please, Oatha, help me show him, she prayed, holding tightly to his hand.
Together they flew suddenly upwards, into the sky. Air whistled in her ears, and her skin prickled with excitement. The ocean raced by beneath them, as they shot toward the western horizon.
“There it is!” she cried, pointing to the island with its rocky bluffs and crumbling tower. “Now you can find me.”
Hathos opened his mouth to say something, but the dream broke, and he vanished. Oliana woke with a gasp. The sense of loss was awful, being forced back into her aching body and dreary cell. But at least now, her faith had strengthened.
Hathos would come for her.
Chapter Six
Valla watched Hathos sleeping, his finely sculpted features illuminated by a shaft of moonlight. His eyelids twitched, and he mumbled under his breath. If only she could glimpse his dreams. It was frustrating, sitting on the outside, unable to share his visions. Like flying blind through dense clouds.
She shifted on the stone floor, trying to find a more comfortable position. The effort was wasted. No comfort could be found in this stinking prison cell.
Of all the rotten luck. Why did Lord Baylis have to be such a pig-headed tyrant? Locked away, she and Hathos were no use to anyone—especially Oliana.
Valla promised to help Hathos on his quest, but what good had she been? He might have done just as well on his own, though he insisted her company meant a great deal. At least there was that small consolation. He didn’t have to suffer through this alone.
Reaching out, she smoothed a curl of auburn hair from his brow. They weren’t blood kin, but she thought of Hathos as a little brother. Of all the clan youths, she was most fond of him. And no wonder.
He’d always been sweet-natured, a trait that set him apart from most dragons, including herself. It brought out her protective instincts, prompting her to shield him from harm, whenever possible.
Too bad she hadn’t done a better job of it lately. If anything, she’d made their situation worse. Sometimes her quick temper was a liability.
“Valla, I’ve brought you more food.”
The whispered greeting took her by surprise. She’d been lost in her thoughts and failed to hear Orlis approaching down the dark corridor. Now, he knelt by the cell, his face lit with an eager grin.
“The guards didn’t even see me,” he boasted. “They were busy with cards, and I slipped around the corner, quiet as a shadow.”
Though she scolded herself for being caught unaware, Valla gave Orlis an appreciative smile. “How clever of you.”
“Here.” He opened his cloak and pulled out bread and cheese. From another pocket he drew two oranges.
The food smelled delicious. So far they had only been given a bucket of stale water. Without Orlis, there’d have been nothing to eat for two full days.
“I tried talking to my father again, but he won’t listen. He’s convinced you’re lying.” He handed her the food. “I wish there was more I could do.”
“Maybe there is.” She met his fervent gaze. “You could help us escape.”
His brown eyes widened, making him look like a surprised puppy. Despite his desire to impress her, Orlis was little more than a boy. She asked a great deal of him.
“You want me go against my father?” His words blurted out, louder than was prudent.
Hathos jerked awake, his eyes fixing on Orlis. “You’re here again,” he mumbled, voice still gravelly from sleep.
“Sorry,” Orlis whispered, chagrined. “I forgot to be quiet.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Hathos pushed to a sitting position. “I’m happy to see you.”
“We were discussing the possibility of escape,” Valla explained. “Orlis might be willing to help us.”
“Funny you should say that.” Hathos leaned forward, eyes intent. “I was just talking to Oliana about the same thing.”
“In your dream?” Orlis’ tone conveyed his skepticism.
“Exactly.” Hathos broke into a smile. “She promised, if you help us get away, she’ll write you a splendid love poem for Lirris. One that’s sure to be irresistible.”
A flush spread across Orlis’ cheeks, as he ducked his head. “I don’t…uh…I mean…Lirris isn’t my…” The young dragon stammered in embarrassment.
Valla chose her next words carefully, as this was no time to hurt his feelings. “Lirris is a lucky she-dragon, if she claims your affection.”
“But it’s not that way, now. I like you.” He shot her a worried look.
“Then please, if that’s true, help me.” She felt a nip of guilt, at pushing him down this path, but the situation demanded it. No good could come of being handed over to Shrake. And that outcome waited, only a day away.
“Can’t you see the dreams are real?” Hathos asked, steering the conversation back to Oliana’s message. “How could I have known about Lirris or the poem you wanted to write her? I only learned of it from talking with your sister.”
Orlis fidgeted, his mouth pulled into a crooked frown. “She shouldn’t have told you. That’s private.”
“Exactly. How else could she convince you the dreams are real? She desperately needs our help. I don’t know how much longer she can survive the sorcerer’s abuse.”
Orlis’ head snapped up. “It’s that bad?”
“Yes. But there is hope. Just now, at the end of my dream, I saw the island where she’s being held. It lays to the west, and I’m sure I can find it.”
Orlis considered for a moment. He took a deep breath, squaring his shoulders. “All right then. I’ll do it. I’ll help you escape.”
****
Vadin rose early, tension thrumming through his body. He’d dreamed of Asahni, and his need to find her burned white hot. The first attempt had been several days ago. Surely that was long enough for the she-dragon to recover. Soon, he must try another portal, and this time he’d succeed.
Restless, he took his breakfast up the long stairs and ate at the top of the tower. It provided an expansive view, exactly what he needed to clear the clutter of thoughts and desires tumbling through his mind.
In the east, the sky brightened, turning from indigo, to slate blue, to pearl. The undersides of clouds lit like flames, reflecting scarlet and orange across the wide ocean. The haunting cry of an osprey echoed off the bluffs, mingling with the bark of harbor seals, gathered on the rocks below.
Vadin let the scene sink in, dissolving the obsession that kept him wound so tightly. The play of color on the shifting waves and the damp salty breeze eased him away from himself, offering the only peace he’d known, of late. For a short while he could rest in the beauty of the world, releasing all longing and ambition. But it never lasted.
Something caught his eye, off toward the eastern horizon. He leaned against the stone parapet, shading his eyes from the gleam of morning sunlight. Two shapes flew through the sky, far larger than any birds.
He muttered a charm to enhance his vision and looked again. A shiver of anticipation worked its way up his spine. They were dragons. One with burnished bronze scales. The other colored in iridescent blues and greens, like a summer sea.
So, they’d finally found him. Discovery had been a risk all along, but why were there only two dragons? The arrogant beasts had no idea what they were getting into.
He paced the top of the tower, gauging the speed of their approach and how long he had to prepare. It would be a few minutes more, before they drew close enough to see him. Unless, of course, one of them was a magic-user. This thought raised the hair on the back of his neck.
Sorcery was strictly forbidden in Lord Baylis’ domain, but what if one of these dragons turned out to be a rogue spell-caster? How else had they tracked him?
He raced down the tower stairs, collecting the she-dragon from her cell, and leading her to his ritual chamber. This was no time for taking chances.
Grabbing his staff from the altar, he circled the room, calling the magic symbols to life. They crackled with energy, responding to his agitation. Glaring light filled the chamber as he built the power higher. If it proved insufficient, when the attack came, he could always draw more from the gold she-dragon. Sourcing from her, he would be unassailable.
Pulsing with magic, he allowed his awareness to expand out from the tower, encompassing the entire island. He felt the moment the two dragons landed on the beach. As their scaled feet touched sand, he raised the staff above his head, speaking words of binding.
The spell quickly enveloped the pair, forging invisible shackles. It was as simple as closing his fist. These two weren’t magic-users. They were fools.
Better yet, they were his to use. With three dragons to source from, think what he could accomplish. The barrier between worlds would crumple like parchment.
He forced the interlopers to shift into eldrin form, drawing them along the path to the tower. It was child’s play, the dragons having no natural defenses to his sorcery. Perhaps the gods were real, and they’d chosen to give him a present, a blessing to make his task easier.
Like a fisherman, reeling in his catch, he brought them to the ritual chamber. They were a magnificent pair, a male auburn-haired and handsome, and a tall female with raven locks and long lithe limbs.
Her eyes, dark with anger, reminded him of a bird of prey. They contained both wildness and intense focus, as if given the chance, she would rip his heart out and eat it for dinner. He couldn’t help admiring her.
“So kind of you to join me,” he said. “I wasn’t expecting company, but now you’re here, I intend to make good use of you.”
Neither dragon could speak, his spell having subdued their voices. The male’s face filled with concern as his gaze fixed on the gold she-dragon at the center of the ritual circle. His companion’s expression showed more murderous intent, her eyes shooting daggers at Vadin, her jaw tight, lips pulling back in a silent snarl.
It served them right. Thinking they could defeat him so easily. He wasn’t some common hedge wizard, with a few paltry tricks up his sleeve.
He drew them to the center of the circle, noticing how much harder the newly arrived she-dragon was to control. Though he sensed no magical abilities in her, she fought him with increasing vigor. The longer he held her captive, the stronger her resistance.
At some other time, her ferocity might have been intriguing, but now it was inconvenient. He had no extra energy to waste. Everything must be channeled into forming a stable portal.
Muttering arcane syllables, he conjured three sourcing cords and began to bury them in the dragons’ chests. The smaller she-dragon and young male shuddered as the pulsing ropes of magic submerged.
Hooking the taller fiercer she-dragon proved more difficult. Her energy, impenetrable as granite, blocked every attempt. The cord coiled around her, weaving this way and that, unable to find purchase.
Frustrated, Vadin abandoned the effort. Two dragons would suffice. He’d make up the difference himself and try for the third dragon another day, when he had ample time to pick apart her mystery.
He spiraled his staff in the air, creating a vortex of power, drawing hungrily on the life force of the two dragons. Their energy coursed through him, filling every particle of his being. To this raw charge, he added his own sorcery, laying himself bare to the needs of the spell.
Crying out loud the incantation, he rent the fabric of reality, tearing a hole between worlds. It took everything he had to accomplish such extreme magic. But the results were well worth the sacrifice.
On the far side of the ritual circle a portal opened, gaping at least twelve feet wide and twice that high. Through it, he could see the same charcoal mountains and sulfurous sky as last time. He felt the same burst of awareness, as someone immensely powerful turned their attention his way.
Without warning, the portal choked with dark shapes. A high-pitched screeching assaulted his ears, as a mass of alien creatures rushed toward him.
Apparently, whoever took notice of his previous attempt had made ready, awaiting the next opening. But a horde of wicked-looking beasts was hardly the welcome he’d anticipated.
On the contrary, this could prove disastrous. Already drained from his magical work, he had nothing left to stem the tide of monsters surging through the portal. They had easy access to his world, with no
one to stop them. How could he have been so foolish?
Chapter Seven
Valla realized their peril too late. She and Hathos had traveled to this place woefully unprepared. They’d expected a magic-user who could shoot jets of fire or produce spears of ice as weapons. Nothing like this instant and total bondage had occurred to them.
Who was this man, and how was he able to wield such terrible power? And how were they to fight him? The situation looked hopeless, but she refused to surrender.
Taking the only course of action available to her, she resisted the sorcerer’s control. It was an awful feeling, being held silent and motionless, a puppet hanging from his strings. Every part of her rebelled against this sense of helplessness.
With invisible force, he dragged her and Hathos to the center of his ritual circle. Oliana already stood there. It wasn’t hard to recognize her. She fit Hathos’ description, and her resemblance to Orlis was unmistakable.
All around them, the circle glowed and shimmered. Energy crackled over Valla’s skin with the charge of an approaching storm. The air filled with strange smells, hard-edged and metallic.
The sorcerer created three magic cords, their movements hypnotic, looping and swaying through the air as if they were alive. They snaked close to Valla and the others. One brushed against her chest, right over her pounding heart. It pressed her skin as if seeking entrance.
Revulsion strengthened her. There was no way she would let that thing inside her body. This was a battle. Different perhaps from the kind she normally fought, but a battle nonetheless.
In this combat, her will was armor and fury her best weapon. She let the blood-rage of a warrior take her, building till her vision tinted red. She allowed it to fill and fortify her, eclipsing all else. The spellbound cord circled and pressed against her, again and again. But it couldn’t enter.
From there, everything happened quickly. The sorcerer let her cord go limp, shriveling to nothing on the floor. Instead he focused on Hathos and Oliana, drawing bright energy from their chests.