“Darius?” Carly said, turning toward him.
“She’s right, Carly. We have no idea what to expect.
“Are you sure you’ve really thought this through? I want Brin released too, but it all seems so hasty.” Carly moved Holly to her shoulder and rubbed her palm on the baby’s back in an effort to soothe the active infant who was starting to make little squeaking noises.
Darius ran a hand through his hair and shook his head. “I think we’ve gone over everything. It isn’t really a hasty decision, Carly. Now seems like as good a time as any.”
Holly bawled out a hearty cry, getting everyone’s attention.
“Go, Carly. If she’s anything like Daniel, she’ll scream the castle walls down if you don’t feed her soon.” Dearra brushed her hands off on her pants and eyed the placement of sticks and incense in the makeshift fire pit.
“I’ll be close by if you need me.” Carly gave Dearra a quick hug. “Good luck!” she said, before whisking Holly from the room to a safer distance.
Dearra took a few steadying breaths.
“Are you ready,” Darius asked her.
“No, but let’s get to it anyway.”
Darius ran the back of his hand down her soft cheek and gently tugged her braid, teasingly.
“Wait! Wait!” Aesri’s voice called out from behind the closed door a moment before she and Niada burst into the room looking frazzled and windblown. “You were going to start without us?”
In Tolah’s name! Dearra, send them away. I’m nervous enough without an audience.
“Please, Brin’du Drak’Tir, do not send us away. We have waited so very long for this moment.” Niada’s voice was pleading, which seemed odd, coming from the normally confident woman.
Aesri gripped Niada’s arm and held her breath, waiting for the dragon’s decision.
“Brin, they’ve done so much for us. You can’t ask me to send them away now,” Dearra said.
Fine, but they better stay out of the way. I won’t be responsible if they’re hurt.
Aesri and Niada beamed and moved hastily to the corner of the room, gripping each other’s hand tightly.
Dearra, start the fire. Then, take the parchment and recite the spell. When you’re done, use my blade to cut your palm and Darius’s. Mingle the blood. You’ll need to set the sword away from yourselves to give me room. Then, and only then, let the blood drip from your hand into the flames.
Aesri was whispering to Niada in the corner, and Dearra frowned at her. “Aesri? Is something wrong?”
“I am sorry, Dearra. I do not mean to interrupt. It is just that I do not understand how the spell is going to be duplicated. An Evanesco is only useable once, and it is usually tied to the parchment it is written on. The words you have written are powerful, but the paper is just ordinary paper, is it not?”
Dearra crinkled her brow and turned towards Brin. She did remember him saying something about that once.
The fairy is correct, but we are not trying to imprison anyone. We are reversing a spell, or attempting to. The parchment shouldn’t matter in the least, only the words and the blood.
Aesri’s eyes lit with understanding. She nodded and whispered to Niada once more before her own look of confusion was replaced with one of understanding.
Now, if we are done with today’s lesson in rudimentary magic, can we proceed?
Dearra’s hands shook as she tried to strike the flint, but only meager sparks made it to the kindling where they smoldered and died. Darius put his hand on hers, took the flint and striker from her, and tossed them into the corner of the room.
His mouth lifted in a half-smile as he said, “Breken, remember?” Darius passed his hand slowly over the wood and it burst into flame.
Dearra took the paper. Her voice trembled slightly as she began to speak.
Blood of my enemy,
From across the sea.
Pure of body,
No taint can there be.
Blood of the warrior,
Wild, brave, and free.
Blood of the dragon,
Imprisoned by me.
Trapped in a cage,
By the blood of all three.
Locked in steel,
Bound without key.
Dearra lifted the sword and cupped her hand under the blade.
Darius moved his hand near hers, preparing to do the same. “Don’t burn me, Brin,” he warned, in case Brin didn’t have himself completely under control and had forgotten to turn off that particular defense.
They grasped the sword together, and slowly slid their hands along its keen edge. Dearra held one hand under the other, to prevent the blood from escaping to the fire waiting below.
Darius positioned his hand over hers, let his blood join with what was already pooling in her palm, took the sword from her, and moved it to a spot well away from them before nodding.
Dearra tipped her hand and watched as the blood seemed to fall in slow motion toward the fire below.
There was a blinding flash of light. To Dearra, it felt like all of the air had been sucked from her lungs, and then she was flying backward. She slammed into the stone walls. There was a terrible ringing in her ears. She held her hand up to her face, but could see nothing except for stark white. She tasted blood in her mouth and realized she must have bitten her tongue. The metallic taste was, at least, proof she wasn’t dead. She shook her head, trying to stop the ringing. Spots of color swam before her eyes, as the white diminished. She thought she heard someone calling her name, but it sounded so far away.
Darius had crawled to Dearra’s side. He couldn’t see anything, and his ears wouldn’t work properly, but he felt her leg and could tell that she was sitting upright against the wall. He called out to her, but his own voice sounded tinny and far away. The white was beginning to clear from his vision, but he still couldn’t see more than her general outline.
Dearra was beginning to see Darius by her side, and she reached out to him. “Darius? Are you hurt?” The words didn’t have their normal rich sound, but at least, it no longer sounded as though she were hearing herself through a wall.
“I don’t think so. Dearra! You’re bleeding!” The site of the blood at her mouth terrified him. If she were injured internally, there wouldn’t be much that could be done for her.
She rested her hand on his face. “I just bit my tongue,” she said offering him a small smile.
Darius’s breath burst forth in relief. His mouth crushed hers as he vented his pent up anxiety the only way he could think to, then, recalling her injury, he softened the kiss.
“Brin!” Dearra shouted, remembering her friend.
I’m here.
The sword lay smoldering exactly where Darius had placed it. The two Etrafarians knelt beside it, both of them weeping quietly.
“Oh, no! Brin!” Dearra crawled towards the sword, not trusting her legs to hold her yet.
It’s okay, Dearra. I’m actually a little relieved.
“Relieved! What do you mean, ‘relieved’?”
Well, I was thinking. Just as you were cutting your hand, it occurred to me that if we were successful, we were going to have a serious problem.
“I don’t understand, Brin.”
Think about it, Dearra. How in Tolah’s name were we ever going to get me out of here? I wouldn’t exactly fit through the window.
Dearra looked slowly around the room. While it was a sizeable space as far as bed chambers went, it would have been pretty cramped with a full grown dragon in there. She didn’t know where they came from, but Dearra was suddenly overwhelmed by a fit of giggles that would not stop. She tried to cover her mouth to stifle the inappropriate laughter, but it only seemed to make things worse, and she found herself laughing full-out.
Aesri and Niada smiled and soon joined her in laughter.
Darius could only shake his head. Some things were beyond him, and this laughter was one of them. He wondered if he was ever going to completely understand these people. Pr
obably not, he decided, but he didn’t think he minded. Compared to the Breken, what was a little inappropriate laughter?
Dearra sobered and picked Brin up, returning him to the scabbard at her side. “We’ll try again. We just have to figure out what we’re missing, and next time we’ll choose a better location.”
“Of course we’ll try again. Don’t give up, Brin. We will free you,” Darius said vehemently.
I don’t know. Maybe it’s too dangerous. Maybe we should leave well enough alone and…
“Brin? What is it?” Dearra asked when his voice stopped suddenly.
The spell will have to wait. The Breken have come to Mirin Tor.
Chapter 24
The dramatic clash of armies that they had been expecting hadn’t happened. King Jaymes saw no reason to send his troops forth when they could pick the Breken off from the walls of the capital with much less risk. The only flaw in that plan was that the Breken could do the same to the citizens of the capital. For the most part, the Breken seemed content to let the Mirin Tor sit. They knew their supplies would not last forever, and eventually they would need to come forth. Winter wasn’t so very far away, after all.
Dearra was frustrated. There were far too many children remaining, for one thing. She had raged at Daniel to make Carly go to the mountains, but he said there was no guarantee the mountains would ultimately prove to be any safer than the capital, and he wanted his wife and child where he could watch over them, besides.
The dull thunk of arrows hitting their target reached Dearra’s ears, and she wandered to the practice range. Zusia was pacing up and down behind a line of boys all older than herself.
“Hold it up higher. Higher!” she said, hitting one boy’s elbow.
The youngster, who looked all of fourteen, dropped the bow, fumbled to retrieve it, and then hurriedly tried to get back into the correct position.
Zusia stood before him, placed her hands on her hips, and narrowed her gaze before speaking. “You understand that it works better if you keep ahold of it, right? Are any of you even serious about wanting to learn? I don’t think so,” she said, not waiting for them to respond. “I think you wanna play at being warriors, but you’re too unskilled to swing a sword, and you thought this would be an easy alternative.”
A few of the boys shuffled from one foot to another. Her words, like her arrows, had struck their targets with complete accuracy. Phillip was at the far end of the line. He tried to hide the grin on his face, knowing that though she sounded angry, Zusia was thoroughly enjoying herself. In Parsaia she would never have been allowed the use of a bow, let alone have the chance to teach a group of boys and young men how to use it.
Dearra walked closer so she could better watch them train. They all snapped to attention and offered small bows or head nods to the Lady of Maj when they saw her.
“Zuzu? How’s it going?” she asked.
“Zuzu?” a gangly teenager on the end said under his breath, and then snorted back a little laugh.
Zusia tipped her head slightly to the side and gave the young man a cold, Breken glare before turning back to Dearra and saying, “It’s goin’ great, Lady Dearra. They are all experts in showing each other what not to do. If I could get them to keep their eyes open when they shoot, not hold their breath when they aim, and actually keep hold of their bows for five minutes in a row, well then, we might have something. Phillip’s okay, but I imagine that’s because he isn’t a complete idiot.”
Dearra smiled at her brother, who snapped her a quick salute, and grinned back at her. In the year since they had returned from Parsaia, Phillip had shot up several inches. He was all legs and elbows, and the roundness of his face had given way to angles and lines as his jaw became more defined. He was still a child, but Dearra could occasionally catch glimpses of the man he would become. Every once in a while she would see her father in a movement or facial expression of his.
“Would you like a demonstration?” Zusia asked.
“I certainly would!” Dearra’s enthusiasm was not feigned. She missed the practice fields at home and watching the children as their skills improved.
“I’ll go first,” Zusia said. “I’ll need a volunteer. You!” she said, pointing at the young man who had been foolish enough to mock the nickname Phillip had given her. “You, volunteer. Go stand in front of the target and hold one of those stones out to your side in your left hand.” The boy hesitated. “If you’re frightened, I can choose another volunteer.”
Doesn’t really understand the concept of volunteer too well, does she? Brin commented.
Dearra bit the inside of her mouth to keep from chuckling out loud.
The boy, unwilling to be thought a coward, hitched his pants up, and strode forward. He stopped to pick up a stone and held his hand straight out from his side. He clenched his other fist, and refused even to blink.
Zusia picked up her bow. She had the arrow nocked, drawn, and loosed in one fluid movement. The arrow flew, and removed the cap from the boy’s head, pinning it to the target behind him, without even ruffling his hair.
The boy dropped the stone, and reached up to his now bare head. His face was a comic mask of shock.
“Rule number five,” Zusia remarked, setting the bow back on the ground. “Misdirection is your friend. If you can make the enemy think you are going to do one thing, when you really mean to do something else, you will have an advantage over them. Every advantage matters, no matter how slight. Learn to use those advantages whenever possible. Your enemy will.”
Dearra was impressed. Zusia was an excellent teacher. She was showing them things they needed to know, leading by example. She had also managed to put the young man in his place for being disrespectful, but she did it in a mature and thoughtful way that would stay with him for a long time to come.
“Get yourselves into position,” Zusia ordered, and nine bows came up. “One at a time now, draw and shoot. Remember to keep your eyes open, draw on the inhale, and release on the exhale.”
One by one they went down the line. The first arrow flew well, but it went wide, and splintered on the wall beyond. The second and third arrows were aimed too low, and after a short way, skidded to a halt in the dirt. Arrows four, five, six, and seven managed to hit the target with varying degrees of accuracy. One of them even managed to hit near center, but based on the look of surprise on the archer’s face, it was more luck than skill that had been at play. The eighth shooter’s arrow ended up in the dirt.
Then it was Phillip’s turn. He drew back smoothly, and released the arrow. The instant the missile left his bow, a blinding flash of white shot forward. Reo flew into the air and snatched the arrow, midflight, before trotting back to Phillip, sitting directly in front of him, and dropping the arrow at his feet. The wolfy grin on his face showed plainly that he was quite proud of himself. He almost appeared to be asking the boy to continue this new, marvelous game of fetch.
“Good boy, Reo,” Phillip said, scratching the wolf behind his ears.
“Good boy?” Zusia said, coming alongside and scowling at Phillip.
“Sure,” he said. “You have to admit—he was the only one of us to actually get what he was aiming for.”
Zusia smirked and then offered the wolf a few gentle pats on his head.
“Thank you for the splendid demonstration,” Dearra said warmly. “I’ll not keep you any longer. You are doing a wonderful job.”
Zusia flushed a little at the praise and then nodded respectfully to Dearra.
Dearra wasn’t sure where to go next. Her feet seemed to lead her nowhere in particular. There was activity everywhere she looked.
Children were digging up the ground in spots. They sifted through the dirt to pick out any stones that were large enough to be used in a sling, and placed them into baskets.
The last of the late fall crops were being gathered and stored.
Girls who would normally be plying their needles on tapestries and embroidery had put themselves to work mending and r
epairing worn garments and damaged leather armor.
She looked up at the towering walls and saw male Etrafarians, the ones skilled with fire, standing watch every hundred paces or so.
A week after the Breken had arrived, there had been a great deal of chopping noises coming from the distant woods. It didn’t take too long to discover the reason—the Breken were constructing catapults. Thankfully their range was only about six or seven hundred feet. Beyond that they fell short of the mark or lost too much power. It was still further than any archer could shoot. The first few missiles sent by the Breken had not reached their target, but they were getting more accurate, and adjusting their distance and aim.
King Jaymes worried they would have no choice but to send men out to engage, but then Aesri had directed some of her countrymen to the walls. The men lifted their hands, and after some adjustments of their own, were able to light a couple of the catapults on fire, scattering their operators. One of the Etrafarians tried to get a catapult that was still under construction, but he was too far away. He levitated out and away from the wall, moving far too close. Just as he was successful in his mission, a dart from a crossbow shot him from the sky. The Etrafarians on the walls rose as one, their anger was terrifying to behold. They did not make the same mistake as their fallen comrade, and stayed at the walls where they had, at least, some protection. From there, they unleashed a torrent of earth, fire, water, and wind, unlike anything ever seen in their living memory. Truth be told, it didn’t do much good.
They managed to kill a couple dozen Breken, but the rest retreated to the safety of the woods to wait out the fairy storm. For all of their power, the fairies weren’t limitless. There was a range to their magic too, and once spent, they had to take the time to recover before they could act again.
Aesri let them rage. There had been some grumbling about what they were even doing there. The spell to free the dragon had failed. There was no evidence that future tries would be successful, and some of them, especially the men, were missing home, but the fall of their brother had sparked their sense of justice and refocused them.
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