I yawned. “As I’ll ever be.”
“Can we learn as well?” asked Ghevont.
“I’ll be glad to teach you what I can,” said Dashay, apparently charmed by the scholar’s bluntly naïve attempts at wooing her.
“I’ll just watch,” said Clarissa.
The outside world was far different than I remembered. If it hadn’t been for the water droplets dripping from the leaves, one would not have guessed that it rained in the last century. The sun was strong, the humidity not so sticky, and the winds sturdy yet tranquil. No better time to ease the tension on my restrained bowels, I thought. I was told a trench in the back of the temple had been fashioned for such a use.
Once I took care of the necessary business, I asked Aranath the question I had wanted to ask since summoning Iterra. “Who’s Iterra? Relative? Lover? Do dragons even have that concept?”
“Why wouldn’t we? While the word ‘romantic’ is not in our spoken collection, we dragons have a fierce loyalty to our mates. And if you must know, yes, Iterra was a potential mate.”
“Only potential?”
A rumbling sigh followed a short silence. He finally said, “She was not yet mature enough to lay eggs.”
“And you said dragons don’t sound romantic. I’m guessing the war happened before she matured.”
“Yes.”
“Going by her apparent freedom, she didn’t take your side.”
“No, she did not. As it turned out, I’m quite grateful she didn’t. Nevertheless, it still seems the elders charged her with overseeing the summoning rune, likely anticipating its use by my human partner.”
“Or maybe she wasn’t charged with anything. Maybe she undertook the task on her own.” Aranath retorted with a trifling grunt. “What did she say to you?”
“She asked whether humans tasted decent.”
“I think Ghevont has tougher nerves than you.”
“Good, that will make him a fine morsel.”
“Okay, now I have to ask. Have-”
“No, and only the basest and most desperate of dragons go after something as scrawny and bony as a human.”
“You’ve never even been tempted by the sight of a fat man wobbling on his little feet? So slow and-”
“You have training to get to, boy.”
Chapter Sixteen
Quandell and Dashay whistled for their steeds to come to them when we reached the eastern pillar. It turned out that the blue one that saved me from becoming a gloopy stain on the forest floor was Quandell’s thelki. Everson had come along with a few other sages to observe my training and presumably add their counsel when they saw fit. Clarissa watched on from under the shade of a tree.
Before any actual flying could be endeavored, Quandell and Dashay went over many instructions and suggestions while riding their thelki. The next step was for us as passengers to pay attention to the riders as they performed exaggerated movements to lead their mounts where they wanted them to go. For safety, we never climbed to high in the sky and did not spend much time beyond the range of the pillars. That was pretty much all we did for the first day.
The second day turned out to be more of the same, with the added requirement of repeating to our tutors what we learned to make sure we memorized it. I wanted to be sarcastic in response to the nigh patronizing tone Quandell spoke with when instructing me, but I refrained, figuring he couldn’t help it. For that reason, I preferred it when Everson took over schooling duties when the old master needed a rest.
Everson was said to be the best rider of the sages, and he wasn’t afraid to show off his skill in diving loops and crisp rolls on his red and yellow thelki. Short, curly hair topped Everson’s oblong head. His body was a tad bulkier than mine, and even compared to native-born Dracerans his skin looked dark. His casual attire followed most of the sages’ Draceran inspired style.
I encouraged his acute maneuvers, as they were the only times I truly felt like I was being prepared to fly and not just going through humdrum training. During these times I actually longed for my stomach to squeeze between my lungs and for my brain to spin inside its skull. It was just plain fun, something my life seemed to fight as often as it did its enemies. Most would think me almost jaded by the twists and turns the thelki took, but the vampire knew how to interpret my little grins and minor changes to my voice’s pitch.
The third day was when my promotion to the front of the saddle took place. Everson sat behind me, supervising his student as I took the reins to his friend. Going against Quandell’s advice to start slow, Everson instructed me to go ahead and go as far to push myself to whatever speed I thought I could achieve.
“Thelki can’t exactly fly slowly with two people on its back,” said Everson as Alka, his female thelki, slunk toward the edge of the pillar. “They have to keep up a good speed to keep themselves aloft, so trying to force them to reduce their speed is a struggle for them.” Alka stopped at the precipice. “Thelki know what they’re doing, Mercer. Let them take the lead first, then you can take charge when you feel ready.”
I leaned forward and tapped both of its half spread wings with my boots. The thelki jutted forward and let herself drop. With equal pressure I squeezed my toes against her sides, telling her to keep on dropping. Quandell would have told me to pull up five feet after taking the dive, but Everson only hollered as we each savored the next few seconds of the world becoming nothing more than a green and blue blur. Then I relaxed my feet. Her wings opened at their full length and angled upward, jerking us back up to a level horizon.
To my surprise, we still glided a thousand feet above the forest canopy. I planned to someday push my luck and test how close I could get to touching the highest leaves. I let Alka fly straight for a couple of minutes before nudging her with my left leg, making her turn in that direction. A longer nudge had her tuning all the way around. Getting her to ascend required me to snap the reins twice. Tapping my boots at the base of her wings as before got her to descend. Pulling the slacked reins taut made her slow down while speeding her up involved the voice command “Go, go!”
It was all pretty straight forward as far as I was concerned. This wasn’t like trying to learn the intricacies of a ship. Flying became a personal life goal, not just something I did to humor someone else. Damn the salted seas! Damn all tottering boats! And damn the very ground! Dragon knights belonged in the air! Free and above the clouds themselves!
Unfortunately, a thelki carrying one person could not get itself that high without plenty of effort, but I still had Alka fly as high as she wanted to go to commence another dive. I think she enjoyed it as much as the humans did. One had to hold on tight to the saddle to not end up flopping at the end of the safety line during a dive. The rider also had to be careful not to accidentally send a command that confused the thelki, which might have happened once or twice before landing back on the pillar.
“Not bad for your first time,” said Everson. “A warrior’s instincts on full display.”
“And a warrior’s brashness,” said Quandell, walking up to us.
“I wouldn’t go that far, Master Hermoon. I was not much different when I first started learning, yet you now call me the finest flier here. You seem to forget Mercer is no dutiful sage.”
As an elder tended to do, Quandell waved off a point he could not argue. “Aye, maybe I do forget, that does not make me wrong. It would be quite a bit more than embarrassing if Iterra returns to find the first Veknu Milaris in five centuries lies somewhere in the forest floor. Now then, to prevent such a catastrophe, I think it’s time for Master Eberwolf’s true training to begin. Come, we need to move away from the rune.”
Here is when I noticed eight sages had lined up in a half circle near the bridge, six of them using a chair.
As we walked toward them, Quandell said, “Summoning a dragon on your own takes a master level of prana efficiency, and that does not include the prana it takes to keep it in this realm. Normally, reaching this level of proficiency takes decades o
f training, decades that will see one waste away their prime years, but potential Veknu Milaris have dragon fire as an ally. Training with the volatile power cultivates one’s prana much faster than the vast majority of spells could. You’ve done well on your own, Master Eberwolf, but mastery of the flame means more than simply burning down all you see.”
We stopped in front of the other sages.
“If you please, Master Eberwolf, place one of your dragon stones on the ground and ignite it. Keep it so for as long as you can.”
After doing as he asked, he nodded at his cohorts. Four of them stuck out their arms and cast a ward spell around my flame, combining their square forms into a six foot wide dome bubble that closed off physical access to my flame. Their presence did not at all impede my control over the fire, however. Indeed, Quandell stepped right up and showed me how weak the bluish ward was by using his bare fingers to break through it, destroying half of it instantly. It reformed once he removed his hand.
“As you can see, the barrier is not meant to keep your influence out of it. In truth, I want your flame to escape. Jude, please create an opening.”
A rectangular breach appeared in the middle of the ward, becoming two inches tall and six inches wide before growing any more.
“Pull your flame out of the ward without breaking it. Obviously, if my fingers were enough to disrupt the ward, then you can imagine the mere heat of your flames will result in a similar failure. An easy way to complete the trial is to manipulate a mere ember and send that through the hole, but that won’t exactly lead to improvement. The Trial of Poise is about understanding that a dragon flame’s power need not be an all-consuming wave of ruin, but a maternal energy that can provide warmth to the most delicate of flower petals. The reality is harsher to blossoms than the concept, but the essence is the same. You’ll want to sit for this. You’ll be here a while.”
I sat cross-legged, looking up in envy to see Dashay and Ghevont still sweeping through the clouds.
“Of course, one ward bubble wouldn’t be a challenge worthy of a warrior, would it? Sages, please create the second ward and its breach.”
The remaining four sages rose their arms to cast another half orb over the first, its perimeter a foot and a half wider. Regardless of the bigger reach, the second ward’s opening grew only half the size. Quandell bowed and sat on a nearby chair.
My first priority was to see if I could at least get an ember through the gaps. As it turned out, this exertion alone took a good deal of concentration. Cutting the flame down a few sizes was simple enough, but feeding the ember my prana without having it mature again proved problematic. All the same, the residual flame crossed the first opening without incident. The second ward did not fare as well. It wasn’t my fault, though. A big gust threw me off just enough for the ember to get too close and vaporize a third of the ward.
Reaching for my next stone, I asked, “Any advice, Aranath?”
“You once compared taming dragon fire to taming a wild horse. You must now become that wild horse.”
“What?”
“You don’t understand your own comparison?”
“Not in reverse.”
“That’s the trouble with you humans. Few of you can think in more than one direction.”
“So, do you have advice or not?”
“Ah, my point proven already.”
“Fine, forget it, then.” I tossed a dragon stone through the wards to get another flame going.
After one of his draconic sighs, Aranath said, “How is a wild horse subdued?”
“Uh, by tiring it out?”
“Indeed.”
“You want me to exhaust my prana?”
“Yes. Your flame will weaken in consequence, making it easier to influence. Of course, it’s a fine line between becoming too exhausted to hold a flame and still being able to control it. That’s the point of this trial. If you can consistently find this line, then it’s proof your prana is becoming more refined.”
“I have a feeling I was supposed to figure that out on my own.”
“I’d allow knowledge to flow naturally if we had more time, but if fighting a nismerdon is in our future, then you should have the ability to summon me. Regardless, previous experience tells me that you would have figured it out on your own, so there’s no harm sharing the knowledge sooner rather than later.”
“Thanks.”
“Don’t thank me yet. This training will still take weeks if not months to master.”
“I’m going to need more stones.”
Thanks to the sages, I soon had a large supply of dragon stones. When opportunity allowed, I continued practicing my flying skills, but the Trail of Poise became my new all-day affair. I now made sure to expend much of my prana in early training sessions before getting to the trial. Early training sessions meant early mornings, but many of the older sages woke up even before I did, so there was always a few ready to cast their hair thin wards. If rain or wind alone burst the wards, then yet another ward would be cast around my training spot to improve conditions.
One bright evening, as I threw in another dragon stone into the bubble, both wards suddenly vanished altogether. I looked at the sages to see that they were staring behind me. I turned around to see the summoning rune glowing red. It did not take long to gather everyone around the large circle, some of them signaled by squawking thelki. The beasts were quieted when their summoners connected to the rune. Due to my enfeebled state, I was excused from providing prana. This time everyone was better braced for the squall that came with her coming.
The dragon opened her toothy maw in either a yawn or an attempt to taste the air. Then, as she looked about herself, I noted two fresh scars on her neck.
“Did you have success, Iterra?” I asked.
She noticed what I stared at. “Hmph, yes. Dragons sometimes need to prove their convictions beyond speech. My convictions produced results.”
“What did you learn?”
“That my elders can indeed fly faster than they typically do. The threat of nismerdons being on Orda seems to concern them, which concerns me in turn. The elders would not normally trust a human’s interpretation on the matter, but Aranath recognizing the symbols adds some credence. They thus concluded they could not ignore the possibility that a nismerdon might be regaining its former strength. Even a withered nismerdon would be a match for a small army of human casters.”
“Then what is their recommendation? How do we find one?”
“With this.”
The dragon’s long tail slithered forward. Actually, “tails” might be more descriptive. Iterra’s tail started off as one appendage, but split into two thinner extremities down the middle. One of them was wrapped around a bluish white ball the size of a large pumpkin. On dropping it between us, I realized the ball was a perfect sphere of ice. At the very center of it I could make out a dull green crystal five inches long.
“What is it?” asked Ghevont, taking a few steps closer.
“One of the few examples we have of nismerdon prana. This crystal was discovered long ago and kept preserved within this spell. If a nismerdon is indeed attempting to recoup its strength, then it can be expected it will absorb energy from Orda herself. This crystal will be able to detect the spell that absorbs such energy.”
“What kind of energy?” I asked.
“Like most creatures, humans and dragons use the prana within ourselves to fuel spells and perform feats of strength, but nismerdons are said to have gained access to the energy present around them. Masters of this technique have the ability to drain the feeble prana inside mere leaves and insects. Fortunately, this process is sluggish and can be sensed by those familiar with nismerdon magic. This crystal, wishing to return to its rightful place, will react when brought near active nismerdon spells, no matter how subtle.”
“So, you want me to go around the world and use the crystal to look under every nook and cranny?”
“If you aspire to act foolishly, yes.”
> “And if I don’t?”
“Then you’ll conclude that most of the world need not be searched. A hiding nismerdon will not wish to be disturbed as it recovers, yet it must also have access to plenty of life for it to feed on. The center of Orda’s greatest forests will be the best places to begin.”
“Makes sense,” said Ghevont.
“And then what?” I asked. “What is the best way to kill a nismerdon?”
The dragon sniffed the air. “I smell it burning now, child. Stone boiled to dust lingers in the sky. Master your flame and only powers bestowed by gods can withstand its heat. Hmm, I also smell…” Her head looked to the right of Ghevont, where Clarissa stood.
“She’s no secret,” I said.
Iterra grunted. “If you say so.”
“I suppose it’s too much to ask for direct help from your realm?”
“Summon Aranath and you will have direct aid.”
“I keep hearing it’ll take years for me to master flame and flight.”
“Indeed, but even an immediate threat from fifty nismerdons would not be enough to convince the elders to reunite our realms. For now, they see the actions of you and Aranath as having more far-reaching consequences. They are curious… as am I. Mes cur’lec damis, sismis.”
Wanting to hide his answer from me and the others, Aranath told me to say dragon gibberish. More gibberish responded.
The coded discussion went on for a few more rounds, stopping when Iterra said, “I trust once you are finished using the nismerdon crystal that it is brought back here. Destroying it is also preferable to losing it or using its power. I recommend embedding the crystal on a stave. I believe that’s how human casters retained such items before. Now, is there anything more from any of you?”
“Yes, madam dragon,” said Ghevont. “Is it true that vernics spit poison? If so, how potent is the toxicity?”
The dragon cocked her head. If she had an eyebrow to raise, I’m sure it would have been. “Vernics do indeed expel a black muck from their mouths, but poisonous it is not. It is only irritating if they can blind the eye.”
Flight of the Dragon Knight Page 20