At first Braxton dreamt of Pharark. He was helplessly bound while the demon killed his friend Darblin Rockheart, then thousands of men with a blast of his hatred. Finally, Braxton watched in horror while the demon laughed, bit off Nixy's head, and threw her limp body into the snow like so much refuse. Eventually these images faded. Braxton dreamt of the cavern where he'd saved Davvy and found the medallion and Taerak's journal. Sometimes when he dreamt of this place Taerak would come and speak to him, but to his disappointment the great Warrior of the Void never showed himself. Braxton used his cupped hands to scoop lake water and wash his face. It felt as if he was washing away some of his grief and frustration as well. It was in the sanctuary of that underwater cavern where he began to sort through his feelings of pain and loss. He could only control what he could control. He had to let go of the things he could do nothing about, and by the time he opened his eyes, he found that he felt less weighted by his feelings. He was no less saddened, for the hole in his heart that Nixy and his unborn child had once filled were still empty, but he understood they always would be. He would just have to find a way to tame the grief and keep it from consuming the present.
Chapter Two
For breakfast they at Chureal's apples, then reluctantly, Braxton agreed that Chureal and Cobalt could fly ahead and scout the area with the condition they couldn't land, no matter what they saw. Braxton hoped this would keep them out of trouble. He knew Cobalt would protect Chureal with his life, but the dragon was barely a yearling and would probably agree to do what Chureal wanted to.
Once, they'd gotten lost in a mountain snowstorm and frightened Braxton and Cryelos to near hysterics. Braxton's level of trust for them was still fairly low. Had she not still been wearing dwarven armor, he probably would have made her walk with he and the elf, but she would have tired too quickly and neither he nor Cryelos wanted to carry the awkward plate and chain protective wear.
As they walked Braxton thought about his mother. The last he'd heard about her, she and his sisters and his friend Davvy's mother and sister had fled the areas of heavy fighting back in his home kingdom and had plenty of money to get by. But that was in Narvoza, which was somewhere on the other side of the world from where they were now. Hopefully she would be all right until he could get back home. He told himself that Davvy would look after them, and knowing the truth of that eased his worry somewhat.
The loss of his father and two brothers to the demon's army of trolls was fresh on his mind though, as was the vivid memory of Nixy's headless body being hurled to his feet by the wretched demon. He spent most of the morning fighting tears for them. It was a battle to keep from crumbling into a fetal ball and losing it.
Cryelos gave him space while they walked. The elf also had losses to mourn. Vinston-Fret, Sorrell, and a few other elves died on the quest to best the demon, and Prince Darblin Rockheart, and Big H, were among the hundreds of dwarves that also died in the battle.
At least a few thousand gothicans also died on the battlefield by the demon's hand, and many of them were fighting for good.
Braxton killed Pharark, though, and as strange as it seemed, it all happened less than two days ago on a snowy battlefield outside of Camberly.
Cryelos shook his head in disgust trying to force it all from his mind. As they made their way through the green sea of waist-tall grass he tried to remember what stories Xuniper had told him about Queen Aevilin and her powerful staff. After a while, when he was sure he had the story straight, he told it to Braxton as they continued on.
"Aevilin was the queen of the elves," Cryelos began. "This was back when men and elves were not as friendly as they are now. We'd always fought with each other for the right to hunt the forests and over other trivial things, but our races kept it from becoming a bloody war. But then came the ogres. They came with magical fiends and made war against both elves and humans. They nearly defeated us all, but Queen Aevilin prayed to the forest god Arbor, and he granted her a staff that grew right before her very eyes. It had the power to fight the evil beasts and their minions, and soon we drove them back to their own lands.
For hundreds of years, peace was restored. Then a trusted and revered elven priest murdered the queen and stole the staff. With it he tore down the structure of elven royalty and over time the elves were led by false kings and queens who were influenced by this evil priest and staff he so easily misused."
"What happened to the priest?" Braxton asked curiously.
"Xuniper said that he caused much pain and suffering and it was he who caused the separation of my people. Even still, groups of elves are scattered all around the world." Cryelos paused and looked up at the blue sky, hoping that it might seem as new and different to him as the moon and stars had the night before. "You don't know how bad I would love to find some of my people. We are so few on the Isle of Jolin, and so much of our heritage has been lost. Only Xuniper lives to remind us of how great the elven nation once was. Maybe now with the promised land the Sapphire of Souls has shown us we will start to thrive again. It would be a grand thing to bring us all back together."
Braxton waited a few minutes to let his friend think about what he was speaking of then he reasked the question. "What happened to the priest?"
"I don't know," Cryelos finally answered. "But remember, elves live a very long time. I think with the power of the staff he could still be alive. He could be on the Island of Skorch. Or he could have died, but I doubt that he would have died before parting with the staff."
"It must be a very powerful thing for him to have coveted it so much," Braxton said.
"Yes," Cryelos stopped them and looked at Braxton, his eyes conveying the seriousness of what he was about to say. "Xuniper told us that Queen Aevilin turned back ten thousand ogres by summoning the elements themselves with it. She called upon the wind and the rain, and the ground itself. She said the priest used it to make vile monsters, some that still roam this world today."
"Like the thing Taerak called the Rokan that guards the staff, maybe?"
"Maybe," the elf shrugged as they continued on. "But the Rokan could be a building, or even a group of people."
As much as he wanted those things to be true, deep inside Cryelos figured that Braxton was right. The Rokan was more than likely a creature of evil design put in place by the priest to keep the staff from falling back by the hands of those that would use it against him. The island was called the Island of Skorch after all, no doubt named to sound menacing and keep the simple folk, and the curious away.
Braxton told Cryelos of the darkon corpses he'd seen in Chureal's homeland. They were very much like humans, but with pale skin and elongated skulls. They had teeth like an animal's and eyes that were split by vertical slits for pupils.
"And you think these darkons have something to do with the Temple of Drar and the staff?" Cryelos asked.
Braxton answered by telling him about the dead void warrior Skyla-Veltin and what he knew of her quest to rid the world of the evil darkons. He then retold Emerald's tale of how a female darkon who was a leader of a small group of males had used some sort of magical concussion to stun Emerald into unconsciousness in mid-flight. The dragon crashed into the ground, killing Skyla near the farm Chureal was staying at.
Cryelos listened intently while Braxton went on to tell him that he and Chureal were where they were to carry on the fight against these darkons, and he suggested that if the jewel revealed the staff it surely had something to do with it. Braxton speculated that the only reason Cryelos was here with him was because the magic of their jewels intended it.
"Ultimately, Chureal and I are servants to the magic of the medallions," he told the elf. "Maybe you could reunite the elves with the staff once we get it." Braxton wondered where those words had come from, for he had not even thought yet about retrieving the staff from the Island of Skorch, yet here he was making plans about what to do after it was done.
"Maybe this Rokan will eat us for supper," Cryelos said with a smile. He tried, but
could not dismiss the idea of finding his people and the staff. He was too humble, though, to let his glorious thoughts wander, and his gnawing hunger kept him grounded and focused on the situation at hand.
"Here they come," Braxton said, pointing up at the rapidly closing dragon. "Maybe they've seen something."
"Knowing that wyrm, he probably wants nothing more than to ask permission to land and eat another goat. Maybe he will bring us one?"
Braxton had to think about that for a moment. Not really about what the young dragon wanted, but that it might actually think to ask him for permission to do anything. Not even a full year ago he'd only seen a dragon from the ground as it flew high overhead, before that he'd only seen one other, and that was when he was fourteen or fifteen winters old. Now he knew not one, but three dragons by name, one of which he'd healed. For a moment he wondered in amazement of how much his life had changed in such a short time.
A brief flicker of joy flashed in his mind, but remembering those who'd been killed in the battle with the demon and his horde caused the emotion to fall into the open pit left in his soul. He was suddenly having to fight not to break down again.
Cryelos watched Cobalt's graceful approach with envy. He wanted to feel the wind flowing through his long hair as he soared over the world on the back of a dragon. He'd longed to do so since he'd seen Braxton and Chureal swoop over them on the back of the mighty green wyrm called Emerald back in the Wilderkind Forest. He'd kept his desire secret until they were about to enter the dwarven kingdom, but he told Braxton about it at the fire one night. Braxton simply suggested that he ask one of the dragons to take him flying.
He'd planned on doing that as soon as he made it back to Jolin where Emerald was healing from exhaustion and injuries. Then a thought struck him. It wasn't when he made it back, it was if he ever made it back. But if he didn't, he decided that it wouldn't be too long before Cobalt was big enough to carry him. The young blue wyrm was growing easily a foot or more every turn of the moon.
The long grass swayed and flattened and wavered around. Insects fled when Cobalt reared up and dropped his hind claws gently to the ground.
"Braxton, hey Braxton, Cryelos," Chureal said so excitedly that she was breathless. "There are some people still alive in the village and we scared them, but we didn't mean to. They look hurt and I want to help them, but you said we couldn't land so we didn't. We just flew by real close. Some of them fell to their knees and started yelling up at us, but others threw rocks and ran into their huts," she paused, but only long enough to take in a breath of air. "I mean the huts that weren't burnt down. Then we flew north, at least Cobalt said it was north. I don't know my directions yet, but I saw—"
"Chureal!" Braxton yelled over her with a big loving smile on his face. "Slow down. How many people did you see in the village?"
Chureal touched her cheek with her finger and cocked her head. "Fifteen maybe. More like ten."
"How many were hurt?"
"Three or four," said Chureal after taking a few deep breaths. "Let me finish telling you what I saw to the north." Still on the dragon’s back, she put her hands on her hips and started in before Braxton could stop her. "There were men on horses wearing armor like this," she touched the heavy steel chest plate she wore and made a distasteful look by scrunching up her face. "They looked like they were going away from the village and they had people in a cage in the back of a wagon. And—"
"Did they see you?" This time Cryelos cut her off, and he did so sternly.
"I don't think so," she gave Cryelos a look that showed she didn't appreciate his rudeness.
The elf ignored her expression. "How many?"
"How many what?" she asked with a huff.
"How many men? How many horses? How many wagons? How many people in them?"
"Twelve mensss," Cobalt answered. "Smore insss cage. Twenty horses and two wagons." The dragon gave Cryelos a look that showed that he, too, did not like him being rude to Chureal. "They did not see usss."
"How badly were the people in the village hurt, Chureal?" Braxton asked.
"I think pretty badly," she started, "but it was hard to tell from the air. I think I should go back and help them but—"
"How far is it to the village?" Braxton asked, this time directing his question to the dragon.
"Half a day for youss on foot."
Braxton knew Chureal could heal them like the way she made apples from stones, she just could. At least most of the time her touch healed. Sometimes it caused a merciful and painless death instead.
Braxton didn't want to let her go, but those people might not have the half a day it would take he and Cryelos to get there. Even if they ran it would take a quarter day. He looked to the elf for help, but Cryelos was thinking about the men on the horses who were probably some sort of slavers or the sort. Braxton's gaze landed on Cobalt who looked as impassive and unconcerned as ever.
"Can you protect her if she helps them?" Braxton asked the dragon.
"Yesss," Cobalt hissed and puffed out his chest proudly.
To someone who hadn't seen a dragon before, Cobalt would be a terrifying sight. But to both Braxton and Cryelos, who had witnessed the battle between Cobalt's brother and a mighty red wyrm, both full grown, ferocious, and ready to fight to the death, Cobalt wasn't quite so intimidating. It was his confidence that swayed Braxton to let Chureal go and try to heal the people.
"All right Chureal you can go, but be careful," Braxton mothered. "And as soon as you heal them come right back so we don't have to worry."
"Wait." Cryelos said fiercely enough to keep the dragon from leaping back into the sky. "Why don't you come down and take off that bulky chest armor," the elf said. "That way if you have to, you can get back on Cobalt's back in a hurry."
Braxton started to object but the elf held up his hand. "She has chain mail underneath and the villagers will probably be so scared of Cobalt that they won't dare harm her."
"All right," she huffed. And though she tried to act disgruntled by the delay, her excitement of being allowed to help them still showed through. The idea that she wouldn't look like a big fat dwarf with a little bitty head when she climbed down into the village only added to her eagerness.
After a short battle, in which it looked for a while like the heavy plate top piece might win, they finally got it, the grieves, and shoulder piece off her body. She was left in an ankle-length, shirt made of light chainmail, the sleeves of which hung down past her hands. Chureal started to pull it off too, but Braxton stopped her.
"No," he said with fatherly concern, or motherly worry, he wasn't sure anymore. "Leave the chainmail on. You can move about freely in it and it is not so heavy that it will stop you from being able to remount Cobalt."
"Yes Chureal," Cryelos added with a grin. "It will also stop a blade or an arrow long enough for you to turn your attacker into a fruit basket."
Braxton gave Cryelos a half-hard stare, but soon smiled for it was sort of funny, as was his over protectiveness. After all, what kind of harm could some defeated villagers do to a young clever girl who flew into the village on a dragon. She could probably blast them all into dust with a blink of her eyes if she wanted.
"Go Chureal, be safe, and hurry back," Braxton finally said. Then to the dragon, "You better protect her."
Cryelos helped her back onto Cobalt's back where she scooted snugly between two of his spinal plates. He took two awkward strutting steps and then leapt into the air, his heavy wing strokes again flattening the grass around them.
Braxton and Cryelos walked on in silence, each in their own world of grief and wonder. They trudged ahead like that for a long time, then Braxton finally spoke. "I hope she's all right. How long have they been gone?"
Cryelos, who had only a tiny bit more faith that Chureal and Cobalt could stay out of trouble, shook his head for he had been thinking the same thing. Instead of adding to Braxton's worry with his own concerns he looked at the sun for a moment and then tried to change the subject.<
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"What do you make of riders with cages full of people and a herd of horses?" he asked.
"I'm not sure yet, but I've got the feeling we are going to find out as soon as we get to the village. Probably slavers." Braxton stopped and looked at the sun and wondered a moment himself, judging its position in the sky. "How long do you think it has been since she left?"
"I don't see any crops out here," the elf said evasively. "I wonder what kind of people those villagers are?"
"Hopefully not the kind that abduct little girls," his concern was beginning to turn into worry.
"I meant do you think they are hunters, or nomads," Cryelos looked around. "I don't see any herds, but I imagine that this grassy plain sustains quite a bit of life." He smiled at Braxton's worried look. "Maybe they are gypsy child snatchers."
"That's not funny." But after he saw Cryelos's smile he couldn't hide his own. "It's not funny at all." A few moments passed, and he asked again. "How long do you think it has been since they left us?"
Cryelos shook his head and had to bite back a laugh. "Not even a full turn of the glass Braxton," he answered, and he wasn't lying. It had probably been less than half that since they'd gone.
Chapter Three
The midday sun glinted and reflected off Chureal's chainmail shirt making it look like a shimmering gown of sparkling fire. Along with her honey-gold hair and the bright jeweled medallion hanging on her neck they all caught the light just right as Cobalt came swooping down out of the sky.
It was clear that the simple folk watching her thought she was some sort of goddess sent from the heavens. When Chureal slid off Cobalt's back they stood stalk still not sure whether to be relieved or worried.
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