The view from above the clouds was spectacular as usual and she always enjoyed the sight, but was a bit disappointed when all she could see ahead was more water. She opened her mouth to give the order to return to the ship, but Rosebud drew her wings back and broke into a dive. Sarah enjoyed the wind flowing over her body and whipping her braid as she and her air-steed dived at full speed toward something her eyes had missed, but not those of the Quetzal. A growing speck near the water became an albatross, which had no clue it was the one about to be a meal. Rosebud opened her jaws, clamped down on the albatross at the moment the bird was about to scoop up its own dinner, and then flew back up in the sky. The Quetzal devoured her food quickly and was looking for more. Sarah knew her air-steed was hungry, especially after scouting for such a long duration, and yet the development not only provided for an empty belly, the presences of waterfowl meant land could not be far away.
“Hunt,” she commanded and Rosebud shot forward, clearly eager to follow an instruction that resulted in the possibility of a full belly.
In a short while the Quetzal was darting towards what appeared to be tiny specks, but as the distance closed, Sarah realized it was a flock of gulls. Rosebud swooped in, snapping up one gull and scattering the flock in the process. She was still hungry and there were seventeen more meals to be had. Sarah held on, arms tight around the neck of her steed, secure in the knowledge her rope of air could not break. She was thankful for the Tricera-hide uniform, without it her skin would be raw and bleeding.
Rosebud flew to the right and snapped up another gull, then folded her wings, dropping straight down, and snatched up yet another gull. She flew to the left and took a fourth. She flew up high, caught sight of rapidly flapping wings to the east, and broke into a dive, arrowing for her next intended meal. The moment her jaws snapped shut on the gull, Sarah caught sight of land. It stretched far and wide with no end in sight.
“Onward,” she commanded and the great Quetzal obeyed even though there were still gulls to be chased down and eaten. Rosebud gave a squawk of protest, but never hesitated in heeding the command. “There will be more tasty birds when we get near the shore,” Sarah promised and the Quetzal began to pick up speed. The idea of eating something was always a good incentive, but it only worked as such if food was supplied at the end of the task, and she would make good on her word even if she had to catch the birds and feed them to her faithful mount.
Waves crested high, curling as they approached a rocky coast, splashed onto the shore, and then withdrew in the undertow. The ancient rhythm continued again and again, playing out its routine since time immemorial. Gulls circled in the air along with pelicans, one of which dived with its bill closed, and just when it hit the water in a burst of spray, the upper mandible opened, filling its pouch, and forming a scoop. Within seconds the bill was shut and the gray-brown body of the bird was bobbing on the surface. Its bill pointed upward, allowing water to drain, while keeping what had to be a fish trapped inside.
Tall trees, pines and redwoods, dotted the heights to the right and left. Most of the coastline had rock formations yet she did see a few inlets where enough sand had been deposited to create good-sized beaches. Directly in front of her was one such creation and it was inhabited. A cabin on stilts stood in the middle of the sandy beach. Waves flowed beneath it to reach the shore. People were scurrying on the upper deck that surrounded the living quarters while a boy slid down a pole. His feet splashed into the shallow surf and he took off running inland toward the line of cypress trees. His shirt was the same color as the green bushes beyond the beach and his pants were the color of sand, although the clothing, at least from a distance, seemed to be of good quality.
A man, about eight and a half feet tall, and a woman, about eight feet tall, were standing on the deck near where the boy had slid down. Both adults had knives pointed at a squat fellow wearing a black cloak with a sheen that identified the material as silk. Sarah estimated the third figure to be about seven feet tall. Even from way overhead she could see the glow coming from the dark figure and knew an energy ring was about to be used on the couple. Two balls of spell-fire shot from the Nephilim, one for each Anakim, and the pair of them were instantly engulfed in flames and fell to the deck, screaming and thrashing until their bodies ceased to function.
Sarah considered the second ring on her left hand, the silver set with a ruby. It was sufficient to start a small fire, but nowhere near capable of doing what the Nephilim had done to those poor people. Perhaps it would be good to find a high perch rather than circle in plain view, anyone who happened to glance up in the right direction could not fail to see the air-steed.
“Rosebud, heights, rest,” she commanded.
The huge wings gave a few mighty flaps and sent them straight for a section of cliff suitable for a beast of her size to land. A dozen or so snowy and black-bellied plovers scattered out of the way of the great Quetzal. She snapped up a few, but they were only appetizers. Rosebud touched down and locked onto the cliff at the edge, facing the beach. “Good girl,” Sarah said while patting the side of her mount and receiving a playful snap in return that came nowhere near her leg.
Had the Quetzal been angry, the snap would have caught enough Tricera skin covered-leg to give a painful pinch, which did happen from time to time. No dragon, winged, finned, or land dweller, could betray its nature, and the wise wrangler did well to keep the fact in mind. She had never bitten Sarah hard enough to break bone, but certainly had the strength to do so. The eighth ring, gold set with a blood red sardius, controlled the Quetzal, and with it Sarah knew she could order the creature to cease motion.
Her relationship with Rosebud was such that the ring, after being used once, was rarely needed, but when the beastly nature reared up, the control was necessary to prevent a fight between predators, and sometime to prevent something from being eaten. Unfortunately, if the wrangler/rider did not pay close attention, accidents happened and sometimes the victim was mortally wounded or gobbled up before the command to cease motion could be given.
She leaned to the right, around the Quetzal’s neck, and could see the deck was in flames and the fire was spreading to the cabin. Looking downward and farther to the right, she spotted the Nephilim standing on the sand between the burning structure and the greenery in which the boy had sought refuge. A rope of air shot out from the cloaked figure, over the sand, and into the bushes. Moments later, Sarah heard a scream, and the boy flew out of his hiding place, wrapped in a spell similar to what was keeping her secure on Rosebud. She had no idea how many rings of power the cloaked figure possessed, but knew he must have some, and that he must have earned far more than she. No powerful Surges had emanated from his castings, which meant he likely did not possess an Enhanced Ring, or chose not to use it. Only an Enhanced Ring or a Staff would be strong enough to account for the Spell Surges the Lucia had been sent ahead to investigate, she was certain. Even if she was correct about the fellow below not having such a ring, the rings he appeared to have were capable of casting spells that were far more potent and deadly than what she had at her command. Prudence dictated that she proceed with extreme caution.
This was not the time to make contact with the foreign Nephilim. She would observe the interaction and then fly back to the Lucia, that’s what she would do. She smiled, thinking if she worded it well enough the report might keep her from getting in trouble and might even earn her another ring.
The boy was on his knees in the sand at the feet of the black-cloak. His small hands, covering his face, hid the Nephilim and the burning cabin from view as if either sight was too much for him to take in. The man’s arm extended away from Sarah’s view, she could not see his fist, but she did see a beam of light hit the sand, and watched in amazement while sand flowed up and formed into an open clamshell structure large enough for two people to enter and be sheltered from the sun. The Nephilim entered and sat down while the boy remained exposed to the morning rays. She doubted the captive would have wanted to
sit next to the man who had killed who Sarah supposed was his parents, and so figured the boy preferred to sit in the sun. Going by what she could see of his tan complexion, the youngster spent a lot of time on the beach and in the water.
“Screech,” Sarah flinched at the loud sound that came from behind and to the right.
The osprey was in the upper branches of a pine. She could swear it was staring directly at her sitting on the back of Rosebud, who turned her head up at the noisy intruder. It screeched again but this time the beak and eyes were aimed at the scene below and focused with such intensity Sarah thought the bird intended to swoop down on the boy.
Kapeech!
The sound of a whip snapping in the air came from below, claiming Sarah’s attention. A squat person, taller than Roy but shorter than the black-cloak, wearing a light blue hooded-cloak, was standing beside the boy. She extended her right hand toward the black-cloak and Sarah was amazed when she saw not a single ring on the fingers of the new-comer’s hand, but a baton in her grip. The only other time Sarah had seen one of those was when her class was allowed to take a trip to the Musicians’ Palace and then only in the hands of a Conductor.
The black-cloak sprang out of his clamshell with a baton of his own at the ready. A rush of heat flowed through her veins as Sarah thought of what she was witnessing. With the baton of a Musician Conductor in hand, neither of the spell-casters needed an enhanced ring or staff.
Balls of fire flew in rapid succession at the blue-cloak and struck her dead center in the chest, or so it seemed before they vanished. A light green shield had flared, and seemed to have absorbed the flaming balls inches away from reaching their intended target. A beam of light shot from her baton, but the black-cloak suddenly had a purplish dome in place that stopped the counterstrike.
“Run,” the blue-cloak shouted at the boy, who hesitated only a moment before realizing the spell holding him had been broken when the black-cloak raised the shield.
Her only mistake was taking her eyes off of the opponent. While she was speaking to the boy, the purple dome vanished and a beam of green light, powerful enough to give off Spell Surges, shot at the female.
Gulls and pelicans flew out over the ocean, birds of every variety took off inland, fluttering from their perches among the branches, and filling the skies. Squirrels and raccoons scurried away along with insects and just about every living creature in the vicinity. Those that could fly buzzed off and those that could burrow into the ground, no doubt went as deep as they could go.
Humid air turned into ice crystals as the sustained beam slammed into the same shield that had absorbed the balls of flame. The Spell Surges coming from the shield were every bit as powerful as that which was coming from the black-cloak’s baton. Fog began to form as the freezing air near the spell met the summer heat of the sun.
“I beat you again, Cree,” a deep male voice called out. “My circle will be here soon and we will kill you and recapture the boy.”
He sounded confident and it was clear this was not their first encounter in the field. “You snatched a Potential before I could reach her, Grom. That is not the same as dueling one on one,” Cree replied without a trace of fear in her voice.
Grom laughed. “Ginnie, Ginnie, we are both Two-bolts,” whatever that was, Sarah had no idea, “and this standoff could go on all day, except you do not have all day.”
“Accomplished Grom Fermin, Two-bolt Accomplished of the Serpent Guild, I give official warning that it is you who has underestimated the situation,” Ginnie replied, “and you will not live long enough to learn from your mistake, but I think there will be time for you to experience pain and regret.”
The fog grew so dense all Sarah could see of the two contenders were the glows, purple and green, from their spells. The foggy mist flowed up into the trees above the beach, right where she sat on Rosebud. She breathed in the frigid air and could feel the chill on her cheeks, but the Tricera hide kept her comfortable enough for the moment. The purple glow vanished from the cloud, as did half the Spell Surges. What happened below? Was the fight over? The answer was not long in coming.
Shards of solidified air exploded in every direction. And then everything seemed to happen at once. Purple shards flew out of the fog, Rosebud let out a screech of pain, Sarah felt a slight tug on her right hand, the Quetzal’s wings gave a mighty flap, she sprang upwards, Sarah slid to the right as the wing came on the upswing and smacked her in the side of the head. Stunned by the blow, she could barely think, but had enough clarity of mind to know the ring of command was her only hope. Vaguely, she wondered why she had slipped, where was her rope of air?
She was off her steed and half way to the ground, extending her right arm toward Rosebud, when to her horror, all she could see was a thumb and half a palm. Her fingers were gone along with those four rings to power her spells, which was why the rope of air had ceased to be. She hit the ground and immediately tucked the injured appendage to her body, trying to stop the blood. It sometimes amazed her how a situation could change so drastically in only a matter of seconds, from casual observer to injured bystander, and from completely whole to maimed. If she closed her eyes, the pain coming from the injury was enough to make her believe she still had a right hand with four fingers, it certainly felt as if she did.
Prioritize, what do I need? Stop the bleeding, how? “Second ring, left hand, light a fire, and cauterize the wound,” she told herself.
This is going to hurt.
She brought the left hand near the bleeding appendage and sent life-force energy into the ring. Fire hit what was left of her right hand and she screamed as the searing heat punished her already tortured nerve endings. The life-force energy ceased and time went by without her noticing it much as she lay panting, trying to catch her breath, and deal with the continuing pain. She opened her eyes and cried again after seeing only half the wound had been cauterized. She took a deep breath, tears flowing down her cheeks, aimed the ring, and focused the flame at the bleeding wound. It was agony. Pain raced up her arm, through her nervous system, into her brain, and she passed out.
Chapter Ten: We Agree
Daniel’s emerald green wool jacket was open, revealing the finest light weight silver chain mail over a light green silk shirt. The royal hawk in flight was embroidered on his jacket where when closed it would be over his heart. His cuffs were gold strands sewn into the fabric as were what looked like thin solid bars on his shoulders. He had oval patches on his left and right upper arms, depicting in embroidery, the falcon clutching a golden lightning bolt in a sky of blue. His pants were gold on green and his boots a shiny black. He was in his dress uniform and it was slightly different than what he would wear in the field. Even so, he felt a bit awkward sitting at the table while wearing the sword of a Royal Ducaunan Knight of the Realm at his waist, but he managed.
The room had violet walls, comfortable chairs, and an elegantly carved table. Paintings decorated the back and side walls. One was a portrait of the Queen’s mother and the other a picture of the palace. Queen Cleona, dressed in regal splendor with an ermine stole over her shoulders, was sitting at the head of the table, it being her palace, and he being one of her Royal Knights of the Realm, the seating arrangement was appropriate. He enjoyed the rare moments when he was not the person everyone else was looking to for answers, approval, or guidance.
Sherree, in her topaz blue silks, sat beside him while Jared, Silvia, David, Carlos, and Sero were out in the hall. Tim and Gina Dukane were in attendance and sitting on the other side of Sherree. Gina’s long dark hair flowed freely down her back and her uniform was made of exactly the same blue wool as that of her husband, although tailored to her full figure. She was in physically fit and identical to Val, her twin. Daniel could not look at the Admiral and fail to think of her sister, the woman he would have married if he had never cast the first spell. He glanced at Sherree and had no regrets over the way things worked out. He, married to that beautiful person, and Val married to Todd Polka
t. The innkeeper’s son was a nice enough fellow and Daniel wished the couple well.
The Queen wore a crown atop her diamond-sprinkled hair, which was dark like that of most Ducaunans. Each speck caught the light and sparkled like a twinkling star in the night. It was a hairstyle started by the Queen of Cenkataar. Daniel and Sherree had on their communication arrays, but no other headgear was worn in the presence of Her Majesty while in the palace. The need to be informed of new developments required the Maestro and First Lady of the Atlantan Guild to wear their arrays and was the only reason the exception had been made for them.
On the other side of the table sat Admiral Archibald Dulannin. His thin mustache was silver like the rest of his hair. He was of average height and build with a broken center-tooth split crossway on his lower jaw that was visible every time he opened his mouth to speak. He walked with a limp earned in a battle that took place a few days earlier in the Taltin Sea. Even though he had been offered healing, the man was a traditionalist and refused to be the focus of any spell-casting, although he allowed his men to use deathsticks and Accomplished Juelz Benwelch to be on hand as an emissary of the Atlantan Guild.
Beside him sat Admiral Georgin Dusantus, Commander of the Royal Navy. His white beard neatly followed a narrow jaw and was trimmed to precisely one finger-width in length. Unlike Dulannin, Dusantus embraced and took full advantage of the resources made available to him by the Atlantan Guild. Both admirals had on their turquoise uniforms with gold pin-striping and golden anchors on their shoulder stripes, except Georgin had five and Archibald had four
Cleona’s dark eyes focused on Daniel. “The plan, put forth by you and your Admirals, is ambitious and Admirals Dusantus and Dulannin both agree it is achievable. I therefore approve.”
To Be Victorious: The Maestro Chronicles Book 6 Page 22