by Jordan Baker
"Did you two discover anything else?" Ariana asked Keira and Margo.
"You got more out of her than we did," Margo said.
"This woman, Dala, she said very little, only that we were to sit and watch the flames," Keira told Ariana. "If I were not so exhausted, I would find it irritating."
"It reminds me of the time you trapped me in the sap of that tree," Ariana said, feeling a little irritated herself.
"You trapped her in a tree?" Margo asked.
"She used fire magic in the forest, which is forbidden, and the tree was the one that trapped her," Keira said, then she sighed, exhausted. "Perhaps we are to learn something here. Do you regret learning to speak to the trees, squirrel?"
"No," Ariana said. "I was angry at first, but I am glad to know the forest."
"Then consider how strong a distaste we of the forest have for fire, and yet now I am commanded to sit here and watch the flames," Keira said, her usual calm manner set off by her irritation. "As I have no choice in the matter, I will watch them. Perhaps they have something to say."
"I would rather find a way to get out of here," Ariana said. "Trees might talk, but flames do not."
"Have patience, Ariana," Margo suggested. "If we are prisoners, then it is our duty to find a way to escape, but, in the meantime, we should rest and heal. I doubt we would get very far in the cold, especially since they have robbed us of our clothes, our weapons and our supplies."
"So we will just sit here and watch the flames?" Ariana complained angrily and she felt the fire within her catch alight, only at faint flicker, like the tiny flame of a candle in the wind, struggling to stay lit, but slowly growing, and she saw the jewels on her body begin to pulse and glow more brightly with every breath she took as her strength began to return and the fire within her grew.
*****
Brian sat at the end of a long, packed table in the tavern, crowded among the rowdy patrons, many of them contestants in the tournament, who were enjoying Cerric's largesse by eating and drinking their fill in between rounds of the tournament, celebrating their wins or drowning their losses. Despite the boisterous revelry all around, the mug of ale curled in his hand on the table before him tasted bitter with every sip, as he remembered how, not so long ago, he and his brothers had sat in a tavern such as this, excited at the prospect of enjoying the frothy drink, thinking themselves grown men. He laughed at the thoughts of his old foolish ideas about running off to be a knight, his dreams of gallantry and heroism, and how things were not quite how he had imagined them.
"Something amuses you?" asked another patron, a warrior with a strange and almost metallic sounding voice, who sat across the table, quietly sipping at a mug of ale, his face hidden underneath the cowl of his cloak.
"No, not really," Brian said, looking up at the pale face in the shadows beneath the cloak. "Just some thoughts of a different place and a different time."
"Things change," the warrior said.
"It is true," Brian replied with a frown. "Are you competing in the tournament?"
"Yes, I am," he replied.
"As am I," Brian said and then he raised his mug. "To a fair fight and a clean victory."
"A fair fight? A clean victory?" The warrior chuckled.
"Such ideas amuse you?" Brian asked, keeping his mug up.
"They do." The warrior lifted his mug and nodded. "But I will drink anyway."
They each sipped their ale and placed their mugs back on the table.
"Where are you from?" Brian asked.
"I am from the east," the warrior said. "Though I have traveled to the north most recently."
"The north?"
"Up in the mountains."
"Did you fight in the Kandaran war?"
"You ask a lot of questions."
"I'm just making conversation," Brian said, then he took another sip from his mug.
The warrior leaned forward and stared at the froth floating around on the surface of his ale, his hood hanging further over his face.
"I was there," he said. "It was hardly a battle. The forces of Xalla and Maramyr crushed the Kandarans and their allies, and the young king of Kandara betrayed his people, sealing their fate. Kandara belongs to Cerric now."
"I have heard stories that the elves fought in the battle. Is it true?" Brian asked, hoping the warrior might talk about the others who stood against Cerric.
From the way he spoke of what had happened at Kandara, Brian thought the warrior might be a Xallan, and he found it interesting, the distaste that was obvious in his voice when he mentioned Cerric.
"Elves," he said, his disgust even more pronounced. "Arrogant creatures, formidable warriors they are, but they can be killed like any other."
"It is said they fought alongside the Kandarans and I have even heard that part of the Maramyrian army turned against Cerric."
"Yes, some of them did turn," the warrior said. "The fools quickly learned the power they faced."
"Then they were killed," Brian said.
"Many were killed, and many of them fled like cowards."
"What do you think will happen to the commanders who betrayed Cerric?" Brian asked, pressing for some mention of Kaleb.
"I do not know," the warrior answered. "They are of no importance to Cerric. They never were, but they will die along with their elven allies." He stood from the table, then picked up a giant battleaxe and hefted it over his shoulder.
"That's quite the axe," Brian commented.
"It was a prize from the Kandaran war," the warrior said.
"May you win greater prizes in the tournament," Brian said and raised his mug.
"I intend to," he said with a smile beneath his cowl and Brian thought he saw of a row of pointed teeth before the warrior turned and walked away.
Draxis had a strange feeling about the young warrior he had left sitting at the table. Something about the young man bothered him, a presence or a scent that he found odd and discomfiting, and he wondered why he had even spoken to him in the first place. He pushed open the door to the tavern and stepped out into heat of the day, then he headed up the stone cobbled street toward the tournament grounds, where he was to face yet another adversary. Draxis hoped it would be someone interesting, for he was growing impatient with fighting so many low level amateurs who had flocked to the city as much for the free food and drink as the chance to prove that they could swing a sword. As he began making his way toward the Academy, where the matches were being held, he caught a strange scent on the wind, one that reminded him of the young man he had just spoken with in the tavern, and this time he recognized it for what it was, the scent of power. It seemed that Cerric's tournament had attracted some interesting contestants, and his thoughts returned to the young warrior at the table, wondering what power he might have.
The door to the tavern opened and a slender figure walked inside and filtered in amongst the patrons, his presence barely noticed among so many. He lifted the cowl from his face and looked about the room, then he spotted the young man he was looking for, sitting at a busy table across from an empty spot on a bench. He made his way through the rowdy chaos and sat down across from the young man, who looked up at him and smiled.
"Jax," Brian said with a smile, pleased to see the thief.
"Brian, my boy," Jax said, returning his grin along with a wink. "I was hoping to find you at a place like this. Have you learned anything about Kaleb?"
"Not much," Brian said. "I think he is still alive. I have spoken with a few soldiers and warriors who fought at Kandara and most believe that Kaleb and the other Maramyrians fled to the elven lands. I have also heard that Cerric is planning to attack the elven forests next as retribution for them supporting the Kandarans."
"Well, that's both good and bad news," Jax said as he waved to one of the women roving through the room bringing ale to the patrons. "If Kaleb's at Elvanar, then he probably won't be returning anytime soon since he's been branded a traitor and likely to be killed on sight by Cerric's troops."
<
br /> "That sounds like the bad news," Brian said. "What's the good part?"
"If Cerric is focusing on Elvanar, then he probably won't waste too much of an effort on White Falls," Jax said. "We can hope, at least."
"You really think he would just ignore us?" Brian asked.
"Probably not," Jax admitted. "I had hoped that Kaleb would return. He always has a plan of some kind."
"So you don't know what we should do?"
"No," Jax said, shaking his head as one of the serving women placed a mug of ale in front of him. A coin appeared in his hand as though from nowhere and he handed it to her with a smile then picked up his ale and raised it to Brian. "I have no idea."
"Then what am I doing here?" Brian asked.
"Discovering things," Jax said.
"Yes, but why? If you don't know what we should do, then why have I been sneaking around Maramyr trying to find things out?"
"Well, if you found out something useful, then it might help us think of an idea or a plan. Then we would know what to do. Right? "
"All this time I thought you and Fergus already had a plan." Brian sighed in frustration.
"No, that's Kaleb who thinks of those sorts of things," Jax took another drink. "Have you found out anything else? What is the story about this tournament?"
"It is a competition for the best fighters," Brian said. "I signed up for it so I could walk around the city without any trouble."
"I heard several rough looking fellows talking about it on my way here," Jax said. "It sounds like the fights have already begun."
"They have," Brian told him. "I have had two matches already and won them both."
"Well that's good," Jax said. "Have you learned what might be the point of this entire spectacle?"
"I don't know if what I've heard is true, but Cerric is looking to find the best fighters for his army and those who win to the end will be given prizes and made commanders to lead the attacks."
"Really?" Jax scratched his chin. "That doesn't make much sense. Just because someone is a good fighter against a single opponent doesn't mean they would be any good at commanding troops."
"Why not?"
"Well, I'm an excellent fighter, one of the best sword fighters I have ever met and I would probably make a terrible commander."
"Why do you think you would be a bad commander?" Brian asked, ignoring the thief's conceits about his own fighting skills.
"For one thing, I'm far too selfish," Jax said. "The thought of having to think about all those people and what they should be doing and all that sort of thing is completely unappealing to me. Most likely I would do it wrong and send everyone to completely senseless deaths."
"I doubt that," Brian said.
"All right, maybe not," Jax said, nodding and staring at the table as he gave it some thought. He looked up at Brian. "It does make for a most intriguing idea though."
"What's that?"
"Do you know if it is too late to join the tournament?" Jax asked.
"I'm not sure. You could check with the soldiers at the tournament grounds. They are at the Academy."
"I might just do that."
"So, what do we do now?"
"Compete in the tourney, obviously," Jax replied.
"But why?" Brian said. "You are only telling me half of what you are thinking."
"This is exactly what I was telling you," Jax said with a grin. "It is why I would make a terrible commander. I forget that you can't hear all my thoughts, though it's probably better that you don't. Imagine if Cerric made someone like me a commander in his army? He might as well just hand over his troops to his enemies and have them turn on him, just like Kaleb did."
Jax winked at him and Brian realized what the thief was suggesting.
"It could cause a lot of trouble for Cerric," he said, smiling at the idea.
"Causing trouble is one of my greatest talents," Jax said. "It might possibly be what I do best."
"I will drink to that," Brian said with a laugh and he lifted his mug and downed his last swallow of ale.
Jax paused for a moment, realizing that Brian might be drinking to something a little different than what he meant, but he shrugged and raised his mug anyway.
*****
Rage. Echoing screams and guttural growls filled the cavern. The heavy iron chains rattled and groaned from the strain upon them as the dragon pulled at them with all its might. Acid flames burst forth, engulfing the cavern in fire and melting stone. Outside, in the cool air at the edge of the lava flows, two dragons stood guard as others of their kind flew in circles overhead, issuing challenges but keeping their distance.
"We cannot guard him forever," Vana told her daughter.
"He will have as long as the irons can hold him, to overcome the beast within him," Vale said. "I gave him my word."
"An oath it is," Vana said. "And he knows what will happen once the chains are broken?"
"He does."
"The elders do not like this, Vale, and it is causing many problems among the dragons." Vana looked into the mouth of the cave as another bellow rumbled from deep inside. "It is difficult to ignore such a blatant challenge, even for the bonded."
"I know, mother," Vale growled. "And I care not what the elders or the other dragons think. It is no secret what is happening and all the dragons know his challenges are not real."
"That is the problem, Vale. They are real," Vana said. "He screams at them to fight and it is in our blood to respond, wildling or no."
"And are we not better than beasts?" Vale asked.
"It is our nature," Vana said. "If only he would bond."
"You know I have tried, mother," Vale said, her voice taking on an edge of irritation.
"I know you have," Vana replied. She knew the frustrations and difficulties that could be caused by a partial bonding and she sensed that there was much that Vale was not telling her, but she made no attempt to pry. Her daughter was no longer a youngling and she could make her own decisions and bear the responsibility for them as she saw fit. Vana looked over at her, resonating with solemn pride and true empathy. "Though you have inherited my wisdom, perhaps you understand my mind a little better now."
"I do, mother," Vale said, her anguish seeping through her words.
In the darkness of the cavern, among the flames, the heavy chains rattled against the stone floor as the dragon slumped forward, finally exhausted. Behind the madness in his reptilian eyes, deep beneath the waves of wild anger, Borrican fought against the overwhelming rage that consumed him. He grasped desperately at memories of those he cared about, the faces he still recognized and he clung to the few moments of clarity that had not yet fallen prey to the beast within.
He ran toward the image of his father, an old man in a crown, but his vision changed and the king turned into a creature of leather and scales, wings and talons, fangs and fire. He recoiled from the beast and turned to a man he knew was his uncle, smiling and laughing with mirth in his eyes, but then his teeth became fangs and his eyes turned reptilian. He ran toward a girl who seemed familiar, her features delicate yet sharp and she scolded him but with a sad look in her eyes. He wanted to hold her and he reached out his hand toward her but his fingers turned to claws, and at his touch she burst into flames. He screamed inside his thoughts, desperate at the betrayal of what he had done, but she did not react to the fire that burned her flesh. Instead, she reached out to him through the flames and Borrican remembered her name.
"Ariana," he whispered, his voice a rasp of smoke and guttering flame, and then he fell again into deep black oblivion.
CHAPTER TWO
Ariana walked out into the wind and snow that gusted through the darkness across her bare skin but she did not feel the slightest bit cold. The dark, rocky ground radiated heat beneath her feet and the gemstones adorning her body somehow seemed to keep the rest of her warm, almost as though they created a protective layer around her. The stones now glowed even more brightly, giving off luminescent white light and she co
uld feel them absorbing her power and sapping her strength, but she felt the heat of the fire deep within her burning brighter and continuing to grow.
Keira and Margo followed along behind Ariana, both of them still very weak but at least able to walk, as Dala led the three women through a kind of village toward a place at its center where a large group of men and women sat, gathered in a half circle before a large fire that was set against a curved stone wall that appeared to have been cut from the rock of the earth itself. All of the people, like Dala, wore nothing save for straps to carry knives and swords, and they were all similarly adorned with gemstones, some of them different colors and all of them glowing in the dim firelight, and they all had dark markings on their skin, in various shapes, some of which Ariana thought looked familiar.
Upon the smooth, dark stone surface of the ground, in front of the fire, were three piles of items and Ariana quickly recognized them as belonging to her and her two companions, their clothing, weapons and other things, as well as her and Keira's elven masks. As they approached, she also saw the jeweled dagger she had carried with her for so long, a keepsake from her mother and she noticed how similar it was to the one Dala carried, though it was far more ornate. Dala directed them to stand behind the items that belonged to each of them, their back to the fire and facing the people, then she stepped forward in front of them.
"Three have come to us," Dala said, raising her voice so the people could hear her over the howling wind and the crackling of the fire. "Two are gifted in spirit and one with a plain warrior's arm, carrying with them the burdens of the past." The woman turned around and looked at them. "Do you seek truth?"
"We seek to be free of this place," Ariana said.
"Do you seek truth?" Dala repeated, staring at her and Ariana felt almost as though the woman's eyes were punching holes right through her.
"I seek truth," Margo said and Dala turned in her direction.
"What are you doing?" Ariana hissed through her teeth, feeling her anger begin to burn.
"I think I understand," Margo replied, and Keira nodded.