“But the darkness,” protested Adrina.
“The darkness came of its own accord. It was time—the time for an ending of the old and a beginning for the new.”
“End? Beginning?”
“In time you will understand the nature of what takes place.”
“You are the one that—”
“Yes,” answered Noman; for an instant, he thought Adrina recalled their previous meeting. He had told her too much. As he watched her eyes, her features, and her thoughts, he knew she didn’t remember and was relieved. A flicker of thought passed before his eyes, images he had taken from Adrina.
Noman began to introduce his other companions. The short elder, Xith, last of the Watchers; Vilmos, the sandy-haired youth who appeared somehow older than the boy she had first met on the way to Alderan; and Nijal, of Solntse. Noman stopped Adrina’s questions about Vilmos and further attempts at conversation by insisting they must leave. “I will not go!” yelled Adrina, “I demand to know what is happening. My place is in the palace!”
“Not if you are killed it isn’t! We have no time. Come!”
Adrina held her ground. She with all her kindness and tenderness had one fault: she liked to get her own way. At times her youthfulness showed clearly, especially in her temper.
“Where are we?”
“We are in the caves of the Braddabaggon, just outside the city.”
“But how? We were just in the sewers beneath the city.”
“Those were the ancient catacombs beneath the sewers that we were in,” corrected Amir.
“What catacombs?”
“Come, princess, we can talk about this at a later time.”
Adrina still held her ground, a belligerent look steeling her features. Amir picked Adrina up, threw her over his shoulder, and carried her away. The air in the chamber, though deadly still, suddenly became cool. Amir placed Adrina back on her feet and an instant later darkness seemed to sweep into the room from an adjacent tunnel.
A brilliant blue light burst aglow in the room. The ball of light danced between Xith’s fingers, fury clearly showing on his face. Vilmos stood next to Xith, with the same blue light dancing in his hand. Sounds of movement filled the air.
Darkly clad figures poured into the chamber from all sides. Amir charged into their midst. His deadly sword wildly wrought havoc among them. With one sweep of his blade, two lay beneath his feet, the last sound of their lives one syllable of a cry to battle.
Nijal followed Amir’s gesture and charged. His skill with his weapon could not match the lighting speed and legendary skill of Amir, but he also dealt punishment to the enemy. In endless numbers the attackers poured into the room.
Ayrian crouched low to the ground. Rapidly, his form was transfixed. With one powerful beat of his mighty wings he shot into the tunnel. His form was slightly different from usual. Here in the tunnels he could not use his immense form. This slightly touched his pride, as one of the truly beautiful things about his kind was their overwhelming power in giant form. For now, he settled on a much smaller size. He stalked the enemy from above. His agility more than compensated for the restriction of the small space. With his razor-sharp talons he tore the foe apart.
Together, Xith and Vilmos unleashed their combined energy. Smoke and flames filled the second tunnel. Pitiful cries of agony rolled into the chamber. The smell of burning flesh became pungent, permeating the air all around them. Vilmos and Xith set their minds to the task again, clearing their centers and focusing the energies they felt there. They stole power from the very air and rock around them, devouring it and then re-shaping it to their whims.
Noman had sensed the imminent attack, but he thought they would have more time to escape. He cursed his shortsightedness. An image filled his mind. “No!” he cried. He could not counter it completely. He turned around, but it was too late. Galan, who had been standing towards the front of the room read his thoughts and leapt on top of Adrina, shielding the girl with her own body.
A tongue of crimson flames streamed into the room. Vilmos and Xith were in the direct path of the fire. Xith tried to shout a warning to Vilmos, but the red and blue flames met and in a swirl of raging energy they burst outward. The resulting explosion rocked the room, and the impact collapsed the ceiling of the second tunnel, which in turn caused the ceiling of the chamber they were in to give.
The assailants sought to seal them all in the chamber and surged forward over the bodies of their fallen comrades. The blast had knocked Nijal flat on his face. Even Amir had been shaken by the blast. Amir helped his companion right himself, narrowly blocking a crippling blow. Amir thrust his sword full into the attacker. His blade sank deep and the rogue crumpled lifeless to the ground, the rogue’s sword lightly glancing Amir’s arm as he went down. Desperately Amir and Nijal plunged full force into the tunnel.
Ayrian was midway down the tunnel when the explosion hit. His animal instincts were alert. He sensed the grave danger. At once he took the giant form. He had no room to fly and fell heavily to the tunnel floor, crushing several foes beneath him with his talons. The wide-eyed assailants stopped the attack on him as they stared at him in awe. They were unsure whether to attack or retreat. Ayrian took the chance and with beak and talon ripped into the two who stood before him. The pieces of their bodies dropped about him.
Wearily, Noman regained his feet. He shook his aching head. Xith and Vilmos lay unconscious near him. In the instant that Noman realized he could not stop the explosion, he built up all the energy he could gather before it was too late. He cast it outward as a single wall of force into the explosion, but the shock wave was not overcome.
Quickly, he leaned down, grabbed Xith and Vilmos by their tunics, and began to pull them from the room. The room slowly crumbled behind them. He reached safety just as the room totally caved in. “Oh, Father!” he sighed painfully, looking back into the room. It was buried in rubble.
Sweat streamed down Nijal’s face. He was near exhaustion, but he still fought on. His reactions became slower with each blow and block. His only inspiration was the seemingly endless strength of the giant beside him. As the two hacked their way down the corridor, several times Amir blocked blows Nijal could no longer defend against.
The number of assassins replacing their fallen comrades was decreasing. Their morale was being dealt a staggering blow. For each that charged into the tunnel two of his companions fell; that is, if they could make it past Ayrian. So far, none of the replacements had; Ayrian was extremely enraged.
Slowly the assailants began to retreat; those trapped between Amir, Nijal and Ayrian were easily dispatched. Soon the last one fell and Nijal, with Amir’s aid, staggered back down the tunnel, crawling through the debris in the chamber toward the others. Ayrian changed back to his humanoid form and joined them. They found Noman looking sadly into a pile of debris. Xith and Vilmos were unconscious on the floor beside him.
Amir knelt next to his master and stared into Noman’s eyes. Ever since he had joined Noman in the City of the Sky, Amir had striven to emulate Noman. Noman rarely showed emotions and was never at a loss for words. The one thing Amir could always count on was Noman’s stability; his natural charisma always issued forth, strength, wisdom, and inner peace being his main qualities. Amir had lived with Noman over 600 years. He had never known Noman to know doubt or fear, but he did now.
Amir leaned close to Noman and whispered into his ear. “Look inside of you. What do you see? Can you find your center? Look outward; do you not see the world? Caress it in your hands Shape it. Become one with it. Now can you not see your true enemy?” Amir repeated one of the basic lessons Noman taught him long, long ago. “One’s true enemy is himself. First, you must conquer your own spirit.”
The words infuriated Noman. A multitude of thoughts spun through his mind. He sorted them out and understood. “Quickly!” he yelled, “We must try to clear the debris. There may yet be time.”
Amir and Ayrian carried Xith and Vilmos down to the middle
of the hall so they would be out of the way. “Go, Nijal. Someone must watch the tunnel entrance,” said Amir kindly. Nijal did not argue. He was too tired to argue. He didn’t know if he could defend them from further attacks though he would try if need be. Sword in hand, he retreated down the corridor.
Noman stood and looked deep into the rubble. His eyes were closed, and he was deep in a trance. He searched with his mind. His eyes jumped wide open, his heart pumped rapidly with elation. He had found them. The words exploded from his lips: “One lives!”
Noman slowly felt the energy returning to him. He let it build. “Begin!” Amir and Ayrian began pulling the stone from the pile of debris. Noman released his energy in a wave. While the two tunneled, he held the stones around them from further collapse. Never again would Noman forget his sacred vow; he was guardian of the children. He existed for this single purpose.
It was Amir who uncovered the last rocks covering the Little One’s body. He could not look at her. He wanted to remember her radiant beauty as it had been. Her body had been crushed brutally beneath the weight of the rocks. Solemnly he handed her to Ayrian behind him.
Amir gathered Adrina into his arms and crawled from the tunnel. Adrina appeared unscathed by the rocks; her body had been mostly shielded beneath the other. Noman’s first thoughts were of Adrina. He had sensed her life force strongly beneath the rubble. Amir still held her gently in his arms, unsure if he should place her on the ground. Noman assured him it was all right.
“Adrina,” called Noman loudly, “can you hear me?” He did not expect a response but he wanted to be sure before he reset her broken bones. Noman re-checked her injuries; her left hand was severely damaged and her right leg was broken, but she would survive. A part of him rejoiced.
Now he could turn his attentions to the other. He could still feel the will within her. It grew weaker and weaker. He could not do anything to save her, but he could ease her suffering. Her spirit fought to survive, to linger a second more. She was not yet ready to pass, but she was losing the fight.
Noman surged his will into the center of her dwindling will. He knew what her spirit fought for. He would take the risk and tell her. “She is Alive!” he yelled into her mind. He retreated his will from her. A solitary emotion reached him as her spirit passed to rest with the Great-Father— happiness, extreme happiness.
Chapter Ten
With the arrival of evening the air above decks grew cool, causing Seth, Valam, Evgej, and Liyan to retreat below decks. Liyan and Seth began a discussion about the progression of the enemy campaign, breaking any chance of a change of moods.
“King Mark has not yet crossed the Crags?”
“The people of the wood, his people, and the River Elves have joined as one. The Silver folk have all but succumbed. He has taken Winthall and Sumer. Those that remain have fled Tamer. Some gather near the Sea of Edengar. Others take refuge in the Shadow Mountains.
“The Valley folk joined him unwillingly after the fall of Hakdell. The port city of Elorendale is home to his reserve fleet. Our contacts say the masters of wood and stone and sail from all the West are building weapons of war there the likes of which have never before been seen in the land.”
“And we have done nothing?”
“We have offered all the aid we could, but it was not enough. The mountains are a boundary to both our forces. We cannot risk sending any more of our forces through the passes to those few of our allies that remain. We will need all our strength here. A few of those remaining in the west are in the process of retreating to us in the east. Most will stay; it is a matter of honor to remain and die in their homeland.”
“Remain and die?” asked Evgej. “What honor is there in that?”
“It is the same as I would do for my queen and our land. It is the sacrifice of oneself for the greater good,” said Seth.
“As it would be for me also. For now we are locked in a stalemate. We wait for King Mark’s forces to cross the mountains. We expect he will strike Avenwood and Rivenwood first. It is there we plan to engage him. He will wait until all those behind him lie dead, then he will come.”
“His forces will continue to grow in strength, while you wait—”
“So do ours. The time will come soon enough.”
“Yes, soon,” answered Seth distantly.
“But have you not considered bringing the battle to him? It could turn the tide against him.”
“Ahh, Evgej, you must consider the forces in opposition. It could not be that easy. We would not invade another’s lands. It is not our way.”
“But you are at war!”
“Yes, there is honor even in times of war.”
“Your enemy does not seem to be following any code of honor.”
“For our people it is personal. It is our way. It is the way the Great-Father and Mother-Earth gave us.”
“But they would not wish you to be destroyed for your honor’s sake.”
“We are peaceful by nature. We still could not. If we are to be destroyed, then it is by their will alone that we shall go.”
“In the Blood Wars—”
“It was not our doing,” said Seth, interrupting.
“Are these mountains neutral territory?” asked Valam, who had been listening intently to the flow of the conversation.
“Yes.”
“How many passes are there through the mountains?”
“There are but two that are wide enough for an army.”
“Hmm—” Valam raised his eyebrows as he said it.
The discussion continued, at times growing heated and at times progressing slowly, but always flowing with the emotion of the four men who spoke and listened with greater wisdom than most.
Late in the afternoon the next day, the island city of Leklorall lay on the horizon, growing larger with each passing moment. The size of the city baffled Valam’s mind. No city of the kingdom compared to it, not even the free city of Solntse. Even at this great distance he could see spiraling towers that shot up into the sky, which amazed him.
Earlier in the day, they had finally come to Lake Clarwater. They were completing the remainder of the journey with an escort of many more ships than they had begun with. Valam and Evgej stood motionless watching the sailmaster, who sat cross-legged at the rear of the sloop, eyes closed and hands resting calmly on his lap. The sloop was moving by itself or so it seemed. Seth had explained, “It is really quite simple—” Evgej had cut him off saying, “But the current flows in the opposite direction!”
“The direction is of no importance. The sailmaster instructs the ship and the ship listens. Quite simple.”
The answer to this question still wandered through the back of Valam’s mind as they floated up to the docks near the palace. The palace was a glowing array of twisting structures and turrets that formed an outward and upward spiral. “She is indeed magnificent!” exclaimed Valam and Evgej almost simultaneously.
A cry of welcome sounded from their greeters. A multitude clad in many colors lined the pathway through the central courtyard, yelling and cheering. As Seth passed those who wore the red of his order, they began chanting rapidly in their tongue, a song of the returning champion.
As they mounted the long sweeping staircase into the palace, strange, mystical instruments greeted their every step with a simple series of musical sounds that together created a peaceful, flowing melody. Upon reaching the last stair, the double doors to the court slowly opened inward. The raised dais to the throne was suspended in mid-air by a series of pillars that followed the contour of the sloping floor. In a semi-circle behind the dais were tiers of seats; many elves filled the chairs, each dressed in a different color representing their order. The only exception was a single line of gray representing those of Liyan’s order seated to the rear and those clad in the red of Seth’s order that were posted throughout the room.
In the center of the dais, seated upon a transparent, delicately carved throne was the Queen-Mother. Valam recognized her from the
images of the mind-link. She was even more beautiful in person. She radiated pure perfection. A feeling of kindness and love flowed into his mind. For the first time in his life Valam was in total awe. When Seth introduced him, Valam could do nothing but gracefully kneel and lightly kiss her hand. He was at a complete loss for words. The Queen-Mother had the same tantalizing effect on Evgej. He, too, was at a loss for words, as he stared deeply into her eyes.
A cry of rejoicing and release from remorse burst into their minds. “My Son!” cried the Queen-Mother, reaching out to all with her mind. A smile touched the queen’s lips as she regarded Seth. The two exchanged a wordless conversation, only obvious to the observers by the change of expressions that filled their two faces—sadness, hope, joy, thanks, and love.
Complete In the Service of Dragons Page 25