Holding Charna in his arms made him feel the warmth of the Goddess Nacrea, so he closed his eyes and made a silent prayer for the protection of his friends. A shower of golden light fell over him in his mind’s eye and he knew that the Goddess had listened. There was hope—he could still believe.
“Master!” shouted Elder Rolovian, and pointed at the dark sky.
“Lord Aurellia has returned!” cried a murmur of voices. The troops below raised their weapons and cheered and whooped and let out animalistic bellows. The necromancers cast their hideous reanimation spells and the strewn human skulls and bones reformed all across the battlefield into a death dance cacophony. Even the sorcerers joined in, casting merged streams of fire into the air, melting away the clouds and the sleet, and for a moment the sun burst through and illuminated Lord Aurellia, now triumphant and youthful, in a golden, radiant aura.
The ancient lord swooped down into darkness, his face confident and concerned, and settled in-between the Builder, Elder Rolovian, and Elder Raelles. In a blur of light, Elder Relech appeared above the ship, and floated down to where the group was assembled. His eyes contained a boyish mischievousness like he knew a terrific secret he couldn’t wait to tell.
“Greetings loyal Elders…and welcome, Goleth.” Aurellia nodded his head to the Builder. “You have my thanks for the creation of these amazing ships. They will be our vessels to conquer all the lands of Vellia once we control the Kingdom of Zhael.”
“What news do you have of the dragons?” Elder Raelles studied Aurellia’s impassive face. “I released that fool Palarian from his duty as you requested. The portals collapsed once he returned to Vellia. He didn’t wait even a moment before porting off to Ghaelstrom. Did you see him, Master?”
Aurellia shook his head with a disappointed scowl on his face. “Do you think I would have volunteered to have Lord Palarian return to Vellia? I wanted him trapped there in Chandrix for eternity! That damned dragon Valeron forced my hand and I had no choice but to let him go.”
“Then you’ve successfully secured an alliance with the dragons?” Nikulo’s master offered up a hopeful expression to Aurellia.
“I appreciate the sentiment and concern, Elder Rolovian, however, securing an alliance with the dragons of Ghaelstrom was never my intention.”
Shock and looks of disbelief greeted the dark lord. “Then why, Lord Aurellia, did you venture to the mountains of Ghaelstrom?”
A sly grin spread across Aurellia’s face. “Gentlemen…do you think I would return from the illustrious mountains empty-handed? Alas! Whilst deep in the heart of Ghaelstrom, where the stars kiss the darkness, I’ve burrowed once against down the deadly shaft where no human can withstand. And, thank the gods, where all blessings are due, I’ve mined the sacred stones from the universe’s primeval war.”
He raised a black crystal the size of a giant’s fist and a wave of nausea struck Nikulo’s stomach and he heaved over the side of the ship. A vast pain struck his mind as a flurry of terrifying visions struck his mind: laughing demons, death masks on hundreds of slain people, shrieking, screaming, mad faces, and snake-like tendrils wriggling into ears and noses and mouths. Nikulo coughed and spit out the bile, laughing and yanking out his hair, thinking the tendrils were invading his brain.
Then a warm glow poured into him from two pools of golden light staring up at him from below. Charna gazed at him with those infinite, light-filled eyes, filling him with the feeling of the Goddess Nacrea. Sanity sobered him in a heartbeat as some bubble seemed to insulate him from the howls and shouts of glee emitting from the Elders.
Out of the corner of his eye, Nikulo glimpsed Aurellia hand over smaller black crystals to each of the Elders, and one to Goleth, whose strained, terrified face gaped at the gift as if it were a vial of poison to drink. The Elders transformed into their younger selves: eyes shiny and confident, skin smooth and glowing, hair lustrous and long. The Builder grew more massive and imposing, his muscles bulking up, his eyes growing fierce and fiendish, and over time a low, crafty chuckling came from his throat.
Nikulo crawled away from their self-congratulating party, craving to be free from the dark influences of the crystals. The lynx retreated with him, wary of the Elders, and she formed a kind of shield between them and Nikulo. He discovered stairs to retreat below deck and stumbled down and wound his way around until he found the room where he and Mara had found refuge. Could he lock the door or set poison traps outside? Would it do any good against those monsters outside? Now that they had such powerful crystals, what would happen to him? Would Rolovian force him to craft potions using the power of those nauseating stones?
Charna curled up on his lap and Nikulo pulled the covers over his head, hoping the nightmare would go away. Talis was gone—he hadn’t returned with Aurellia. Was his friend dead? And Elder Relech had come back without Mara. What had happened to her? The truth sunk hard into his gut: he was all alone out here on a foreign world, without friends, without an idea of what to do next. His instinct told him to wait, to hide, to keep away from Aurellia and his Elders. In the darkness and silence of the room, he allowed the sweet serenade of sleep to enrapture him, pulling him down into unconsciousness.
Something abrasive and wet licked at his forehead and Nikulo woke with a start. Charna stood over him, staring down with an air of expectation. She bounded for the door and pawed like she wanted to go outside. A low meow came from her throat. Nikulo looked out the porthole and saw the last vestiges of twilight kissing the wooded land beyond the beach.
The lynx scratched the door insistently and he realized she had to go to the bathroom. He opened the door and she bounded down the hallway and Nikulo chased her up the stairs. The deck was empty and quiet. Charna darted down the gangplank and squatted over the sand, peering at the mass of broken, maimed bodies, limbs and heads littering the beach. The stench of rot and burned flesh tainted the air, and Nikulo wrapped his scarf over his face. But despite the smell and the livid scene, his heart felt warm from the realization that he was alone with Charna. Aurellia and his army had left.
Charna veered around the ruin and ran over to the forest’s edge, disappearing to hunt inside the woods. Was it really true? Had his dark master left without him? Not that he wanted to be part of their murderous assault on the Kingdom of Zhael. The thought of more killing made him sick. But still, he couldn’t understand why they’d forgotten him. Was he just lucky hiding away while their army marched on? Somehow he doubted it. A deeper realization washed over him: that he was somehow released from his vow of loyalty to Aurellia.
He had to get away from here and try and find someone who could help him here in the Kingdom of Zhael. If they worshipped the Goddess Nacrea and banished Aurellia to Nikulo’s world they probably would take pity on him, right? And maybe he could find out what happened to Talis and Mara, maybe their wizards could help find them. Do nothing wasn’t an option.
So he ran back below deck and grabbed his gear and put on a thick cloak, then said goodbye to the room that had sheltered him over the last few days. As he plodded down the gangplank, he noticed the path directly off to the north where the army had plunged into the forest. Charna had gone to the right of the path, to an unmolested part of the woods. He made his way there through the rising wind, and whistled for her several times, and finally found her in a clearing proudly prancing up to him with a rabbit in her mouth.
“Good girl,” Nikulo said, and scratched her ears and under her chin until a rumble of purrs came from her throat. “We’ll find our way around out here, won’t we? If only we had Talis and the Surineda Map to help us out. Right now we’re on our own.”
Darkness had fallen and the sleet had turned violent with the night winds. He pulled the cloak up over his head and fastened the button around his neck to keep warm. Was it safer to stay back at the ship? It was so dark now he could barely see where he was going. He craned his neck forward, shielding his eyes from the wind, and tried to spot Charna. A soft, orange glow moved ahead through
the grass and Nikulo knew at once it was the lynx. He jogged on after her, following into the forest on the other side. The trees offered some relief from the gale brewing above the treetops, but the wind still whined through the branches like a crowd of wailing ghosts.
After Charna failed to slow despite Nikulo’s shouts, he realized that she was guiding him to safety. He sent a silent prayer to the Goddess Nacrea and the golden light around the lynx pulsed stronger. A wave of relief lightened his steps and hope surged through him: the Goddess had heard his prayer!
For hours they trekked through forests and clearings and skirted around lakes until they reached a broad river that churned with vicious rapids. Charna stopped and sniffed the air, staring at something on the other side. She decided to head left, up the river, and they followed the meandering course as it snaked right and left, then on straight for many miles. The golden glow ahead went inside a thick wall of fog, and for a moment, Nikulo’s heart thudded with anticipation, worried that he might have lost her. He ran ahead after the lynx until he reached the fog. It was so thick he couldn’t see more than a few feet ahead.
He had to walk slower now for fear of tripping or falling into the river. So he listened for the river and adjusted him movements to keep away from the water. Soon the fog was illuminated by a soft, yellow light, muted at first, but over time grew in strength as he neared the source of the light. Thinking it was Charna, he called out to her, and came to where she stood, transfixed, staring ahead at the source of the brighter light: a bridge formed of pure light spanned the length of the river.
When Charna noticed that Nikulo was with her, she took a hesitant step towards the bridge. Nikulo followed, marveling at how the beams were made of a yellow-white light, and what they walked on was so clear you could see the illuminated river churning below. Long, silver fish glided underneath, their uncurious eyes staring straight ahead. The lynx stopped and released a throaty meow, mesmerized by the fish, and batted the bridge with her paw.
Nikulo made his way to the other side of the bridge, wondering how it was formed. Was it made of glass and infused with some ever-glowing crystals? At the other side, he slid down underneath the bridge’s beams, and tried to feel what they were made of. His hands passed through as if he were trying to touch a ray of light. Even the top of the bridge where they had walked was as vaporous as a sunbeam. Puzzled, he climbed back up to the top of the bridge and was able to once again walk its surface.
“Light-blinded fools? More like geniuses if you ask me.” Nikulo tapped the bridge with his foot and whistled for Charna to follow.
The lynx snapped out of her fish-hunting mind and pranced forward, sniffing the air, her whiskers flicking impatiently. She caught some scent (or maybe a feeling) and bounded off down a path that connected with the bridge. Now Charna glowed less brightly, as if the Goddess were telling Nikulo he was going the right way.
Here the wind slowly subsided as the first light of day was hinted in a deep, purple light in the forest. After marching up the path for an hour or so, the morning sunbeams bathed Nikulo’s face in a warm, reassuring glow. With Nikulo’s acute sense of smell, he caught a faint scent of sweet cakes, baking bread, and meat roasts. His stomach growled, tired of the sparse food aboard the ship. Ahead he spotted smoke wafting in the sky above the tree-line. There, around a bend in the path, was a city formed of pure light: crystal towers, luminescent domes, and walls of golden light were adorned with climbing rose and wisteria.
It seemed to Nikulo the most beautiful city in the world. Then he saw it, the sky marred with hundreds of flying figures and great floating ships formed of light.
The city was preparing for war.
15. THE SHELTERER
Talis woke screaming and sweating, his shirt drenched from the fever dreams that had possessed him. He knew Mara was in grave trouble, her mind twisted and enraged from being tricked into thinking he was dead, probably because of the lies of Elder Relech, that bastard-child of Zagros. What was Talis doing waiting here in Ghaelstrom? She was out there sad and confused and lonely—she needed his help.
The fire was ashes now as Talis gathered his pack and headed for the door. Curious goblins eyes greeted him in the street; hands with long, nimble fingers hard at work tending the under-city. The dragons were stirring above, flapping their wings and shrieking as if hungry and waiting to venture out to the hunt. By the time Talis climbed the stairs to the top of the tower where King Valeron nested, he could see the wild mass of dragons circling overhead. The urge to join them surged in his veins, to change form and take flight as a dragon, to hunt and feel the wind striking his face. But he held himself and studied the swirling parade above.
In the soft glow of the radiant crystals lining the vast, domed ceiling, Talis spotted a smaller, dark figure speeding around with the dragons. Each time the figure swooped near a dragon, the creature cried in delight. Talis could see that whatever was flying was not a dragon. But somehow the dragons knew who it was. Then the dragons stopped their flight, hovering for a moment, as if sensing someone watching their dance. The largest of the dragons dove towards the tower at a feverish speed, and the figure followed fast behind. Coming closer, Talis recognized the figure as Lord Palarian, The Shelterer of the Tarasen Islands, flying alongside King Valeron.
Talis felt a mixture of relief and anger at the old sorcerer—he was still furious at Palarian for kidnapping Mara and leading them on this nightmare of a journey. He’d risked his life to save her, but the effort had only dragged him further down into a rat’s nest of complexity and sorrow. And now Mara was in trouble again, this time all alone with one of Aurellia’s monsters, but now, she didn’t even have hope to hold onto. She believed Talis was dead.
“Greetings, young dragon mage!” Palarian’s face was sober and intense, as if he were preparing to go to war. “The great and powerful King Valeron told me the tale of your interaction with Aurellia. And where is our foul friend of darkness? Has he abandoned you to the Kingdom of Ghaelstrom?”
Talis tried to relax his clenched jaw, but found it almost too stiff to talk. He studied Palarian, wanting to believe him an ally, but doubting his ability to choose someone to trust.
“Aurellia is no longer master to me. He has severed the cord as part of our bargain.”
“Bargain? Hah! You’ve bargained with the devil and yet you live? But your eyes show pain and torture and mistrust… These are not the same eyes I last saw on Chandrix! What has happened to you?”
King Valeron belched out a puff of smoke from his nostrils. “The heart of Ghaelstrom has happened to him. I can feel it with my dragon bones. The power…the black power of the void and the immeasurable power of the stars. This young one has somehow endured it, as Aurellia did before him, and as you, Palarian, did before him. Can you not feel it?”
Palarian came closer to Talis and sniffed the air around him, dusting his cloak and smelling the residue. “Yes, how did I not first notice it? Your dragon senses are infinitely more powerful than mine, old Valeron. The boy has learned the art of wrapping himself with light and shadows to mask the ill effects of the heart stones… Just a moment, I sense some pulse in power…what is this?”
Talis twirled away from Palarian after he’d reached for his backpack. The old sorcerer’s eyes narrowed in fear and concern as Talis assumed a defensive posture, readying himself in case Palarian was about to attack. Talis had already connected with the power of the crystals in his pack, and could feel the immense dark and light power surging through his arms and torso.
“Cease your hostile thoughts, young wizard. I mean you no harm.” Palarian lowered his hands in submission. “We are of the same mind, you and I and King Valeron. Aurellia is our mortal enemy. He risks the lives and safety of this whole world. Please, be reasonable, let’s talk. I owe my life to you, Talis. Ask any favor and I am obliged by my vow to you to help. I was trapped there, in the middling world, and you, with King Valeron, helped bring me back to Vellia—and thank the gods, saved my life. I don�
��t know how much longer I could have held up the portals between the worlds.”
“It was all King Valeron,” Talis said, and severed the connection to the crystals. Palarian was right, they were of the same mind and had a common enemy. But they were also different, Talis didn’t care about fighting any wars here on Vellia, he only wanted to find his friends and his pet lynx, and return home. “Yet I would ask a favor of you. My friend Mara has been tricked by one of Aurellia’s elders—she believes I am dead. She is out there, someplace, confused and angry and sad. She needs my help.”
“Then we will help her! King Valeron has offered the aid of his dragons to fight Aurellia and his army. But first, why did Lord Aurellia come to Ghaelstrom—but of course!” Palarian wrapped his hand around his fist. “He needed you and the Surineda Map to find a powerful crystal deep in the heart of the mountain! And did he succeed?”
Talis dropped his eyes to the stone floor, feeling defeated and responsible for Aurellia’s newfound power. If he hadn’t bargained with the dark lord for his freedom, then the stone would still be safe, cradled in the mountain. Now it was in the hands of a monster. One capable of controlling the massive power channeled through the black crystal.
“Your eyes tell the terrible truth.” The old sorcerer wagged his head in a gesture of defeat. “How will we win against him now, King Valeron? Without the stone he was no match for your power. But now? And what of the ancients of Vellia? Do they remain vigilant or have they gone indolent over the many years?”
Dragon Mage (Blacklight Chronicles) Page 11