Onyx of Darkness_An epic dragon fantasy

by Norma Hinkens

  Cheers of adulation went up followed by ripples of anticipation. Emperor Narlius returned to his throne and sat down, leaning one robed elbow on the carved armrest. Crown Prince Harionov remained standing a few feet from Orlla, a sneer on his full lips as he waited for her to begin. Lord Davian glared at her and hissed, “Get on with it!”

  Taking a deep breath, Orlla raised the stone above her head once more and scrunched her eyes shut. Her father’s warning flashed to mind.

  Never wield the forbidden rune unless the fate of the world is at stake.

  He had approved of her decision to invoke the Opal of Light, but what would he say about her decision to invoke the dark dragon stone? If she refused to comply with the emperor’s command, Erdhan would die, and other deaths would follow. A strange tingling ran down her arms from the stone. Her pulse thundered in her ears. In her hands she held the power to stave off Erdhan’s death.

  Her lips moved as she began to recite the forbidden rune backwards, not daring to imagine the outcome. From her classes in the Conservatory, she knew that the stones were opposing forces; one offering protection, the other wreaking destruction, one bringing health, the other inflicting sickness, one endowing knowledge, the other dispensing confusion. Either stone could be wielded in judgement by anyone who controlled them. Her breath balked in her throat. The Opal of light blinded the human eye, but the Onyx of Darkness blackened the human heart. In this moment, she was afraid for her own soul as her lips moved of their own accord.

  An expectant hush had fallen over the court. Orlla could feel the beating of her own heart pulsing beneath her skin like a trapped beast trying to break free. Her head swam as the rune crescendoed in her head, taking over her every thought. The room tilted as the faces of the dignitaries and courtiers morphed into one monstrous whole, ravenous for the display of power promised to them.

  She started at a thunderous crash from above, almost dropping the pulsing Onyx. Screams rang out around her as the palace roof was ripped from its timbers before their very eyes.

  Chapter 21

  Debris and plaster tumbled down into the throne room instantly crushing several dozen courtiers. A giant black claw wrested away another section of the frescoed roof, and through the churning dust Orlla glimpsed the jagged, leathery wings of a black dragon. A moment later, it let out a thunderous roar and blasted out a column of orange flame, scorching everything in its path.

  Pandemonium broke out, people trampling the fallen as they surged toward the yawning throne room doors. The dragon belched, filling the room with a cloud of choking, acrid smoke as it whipped its serpent-like tail, sending bodies skidding across the inlaid mother-of-pearl floor. The beast’s unblinking yellow eyes studied the fleeing figures, before homing in on a target. With a flapping sound like the crack of thunder, it extended its serrated wings and dove down into the throne room, black scales gleaming in the flickering light of the sconces and the crackling flames that lingered in random patches across the space.

  Bloodcurdling screams echoed through the space when the dragon’s talons latched onto Crown Prince Harionov and swooped the young man up. The dragon flapped its sinewy wings to gain height, scattering several more courtiers and dignitaries in the blast of its wake, before disappearing through the enormous hole in the palace roof.

  Heart thundering in her chest, Orlla hastily stuffed the Onyx of Darkness back into the sack. It had all happened so quickly, she hadn’t even realized she was still holding the dark dragon stone. She darted a glance around at the devastated throne room. Neither Lord Davian nor Emperor Narlius was anywhere to be seen. This was her chance to take the stone and flee when everyone else was too distracted trying to save their skin from frying to worry about her. Without a second thought, she flung the sack over her shoulder, gathered up her cumbersome skirts and dashed through the open throne room doors.

  Running blindly down a vaulted corridor behind a sobbing courtier, she couldn’t tell for sure which direction she was going in. Her only aim was to find a crevice to hide in until she could collect her thoughts long enough to weave a veiling rune over herself and the stone. Akolom had talked of escaping through the kitchens. If she could find her way there, she might still have a chance.

  The Onyx felt unnaturally heavy in the sack as it pulled on her shoulder. If only she had the time to weave a weightlessness rune and ease the burden of it. But she didn’t dare stop running. After what had happened, Emperor Narlius would order every guard left alive in the palace to hunt her down. Bile rose up her throat at the horrific image of Crown Prince Harionov dangling from the black dragon’s claws. She was responsible for everything that had transpired in the throne room—including the crown prince’s macabre death. She was the one who had called down the dragon by invoking the forbidden rune. The rational side of her brain reminded her that Emperor Narlius bore some of the blame. He had adamantly refused to listen to her, despite her impassioned warning. She had rightly dreaded the unknown power of the stone, but not even she could have predicted so horrendous an outcome.

  Lost in her thoughts, Orlla flew around a corner and ran straight into a contingent of palace guards. They shouted excitedly to one another, surrounding her at once. One of them wrenched the sack with the Onyx from her grasp, while another one grabbed her and forced her hands behind her back.

  “Inform the emperor we have her!” the guard holding her yelled. Another guard at the back of the group sped off down the corridor. Orlla struggled to free herself, but to no avail. The palace guards bound and gagged her, and then marched her back down the corridor in the direction she had come. With every step, her trepidation increased. Emperor Narlius would show no mercy to the rune weaver responsible for the gruesome death of his firstborn son.

  The guards ushered her through an arched passageway in the corridor and down a flight of stone steps into the bowels of the palace. The air was damp and musty, and memories of the time she had spent imprisoned in Lichtenburg and Efyllsseum resurfaced. Despair welled up inside her. How could she escape from here? Was she destined to die in a dungeon after all? Maybe she would be locked up with Erdhan. It would be some small consolation to be together at least.

  They came to a halt outside a metal-studded wooden door. One of the guards hammered on it with a hairy fist. The door swung wide and a burly man with a deeply scarred cheek dressed in a leather tunic stuck his head out. He ran a lascivious eye over Orlla and then raised a wiry brow at the guard.

  “Your life will be forfeit if she escapes,” the guard told him. “She will hang for the murder of Crown Prince Harionov.”

  The man’s eyes widened. He opened his mouth to say something, but then thought better of it. Placing a meaty fist on Orlla’s shoulder, he yanked her inside. The door clanged shut behind them. Fear chugged its way up Orlla’s throat. Escaping from the palace dungeon would be nigh impossible, and to make matters worse, she had lost the dark dragon stone. Her thoughts turned once again to Akolom. He wouldn’t have left her to face the emperor alone unless something untoward had happened.

  The burly guard escorting her kept a steely grip on her shoulder as he marched her along the cold, damp winding corridors of the dungeons that branched off in several directions. She stared into every cell as they went by, hoping to spot Erdhan. Prisoners scuttled toward her and jammed filthy fingers between the bars of their cells, begging for a scrap of food.

  They reached a second flight of stone stairs and began to descend the roughhewn steps.

  “Where are we going?” Orlla asked, digging in her heels, but the guard merely shoved her forward, forcing her down the dimly lit stone stairwell. Halfway down, his grip on her shoulder suddenly loosened, and she watched, dumbfounded, as he toppled forward with a heavy grunt. She flinched and pressed herself against the dank wall as he rolled down the stairs, landing at the bottom with a sickening thud. When he came to rest on his stomach, she noticed a knife protruding between his shoulder blades.

  She darted a frenzied glance back up the sta
irs. Palace guards were swarming down the steps toward her. Her eyes crinkled in confusion when she spotted Lord Davian in their midst, but comprehension dawned when she recognized the faces of the men with him. Davian and his soldiers had donned the garb of the emperor’s guards. They had come for her! She peered frantically down the stairs wondering if there was another exit out of the dungeons. Davian wasn’t risking his life to rescue her out of the goodness of his heart. Without the dark dragon stone, he was powerless. But he could still use her to lead him to the Opal of Light.

  “Grab her!” Lord Davian roared to his men. Before she had a chance to flee, they seized her and carried her back up the stairs.

  “Wait! Erdhan’s here somewhere!” she shouted. “I won’t help you unless you rescue him too.”

  “He already made his escape,” Lord Davian muttered. “Slit a guard’s throat last night.”

  A flood of relief and muddled thoughts ran together in Orlla’s head. Had Akolom helped Erdhan flee the palace? Was that why Akolom hadn’t shown up for her audience with the emperor?

  After racing along several stone corridors, Davian’s soldiers kicked open a door and a gust of cold air hit Orlla in the face.

  Several palace guards who were running across the courtyard glanced in their direction, quickly changing course when they spotted Orlla and realized what was afoot. They drew their swords and hollered for backup as they charged toward her. Blades slashed through the air in sweeping thrusts as Davian’s soldiers fought off the guards, pressing the attack until they broke through. They ushered Orlla across the courtyard to the stables, where they swiftly disposed of the stable hand before saddling up their horses.

  Lord Davian slashed the bonds on Orlla’s wrists. “That was quite the demonstration you gave the emperor. A little over the top, don’t you think?”

  Orlla glared at him. “You’re the one who forced my hand by threatening Erdhan’s life.”

  He gave a sardonic smile. “Nonetheless, your actions have made it impossible for us to remain here any longer.” He grabbed the reins of the nearest horse. “Mount up!”

  “How are we going to get through the gates?” she asked, incredulously.

  “Rest assured, I have taken care of every detail.” He linked his fingers to give her a step up and proffered her a cold smile.

  Orlla yanked up her skirts, inwardly bemoaning her unsuitable riding attire as she climbed astride her horse. She didn’t relish the idea of escaping with Davian, but it was a better option than remaining inside the palace walls and facing the wrath of Emperor Narlius.

  As they cantered across the palace courtyard, Orlla’s jaw dropped at the huge hole that gaped in the courtyard wall. What remained of the gates and the guard house was ablaze. Several palace guards darted back and forth, passing off buckets of water as they struggled to douse the fire.

  “Lean low in your saddle,” Lord Davian yelled, whipping the rump of Orlla’s horse. “Gallop on!”

  Her pulse thundered in her head, matching the pace of the pounding hooves beneath her as her mount took off. She leaned forward in the stirrups, head tight to her horse’s plunging neck, and dug her spurs into its flanks. Despite the flames licking the remnants of the wooden structure, her steed held its course, jumping fluidly over the burning embers and bolting for freedom.

  Orlla pulled a shaky breath together, mentally assessing her situation as Lord Davian’s steed came galloping alongside her. She was free of the emperor’s palace, but she was Lord Davian’s prisoner again, and this time she faced him alone.

  They rode hard, heading south to the foothills of the Strylieht mountains. When they broke to make camp for the night, there was still no sign of Emperor Narlius’s guards. Perhaps the chaos at the palace had proved enough to occupy them temporarily, but it wouldn’t be long before they discovered Orlla had escaped and mounted a pursuit.

  Orlla scanned the horizon and estimated they weren’t far from Boar’s Fort. If she could get a message to Skinner, he would send a contingent of mercenaries to take out Lord Davian and his soldiers. But, there was no way for her to contact him. She only hoped Shanks had already made it back and was planning an ambush.

  When they settled in around the campfire for the evening, Orlla addressed Lord Davian. “You won’t get away with what you’ve done. Skinner will hunt you down if he has to comb the length and breadth of Macobin to find you.”

  Lord Davian gave a scoffing laugh. “After what happened at the palace, Skinner will be too busy worrying about his own life to hunt anyone down. Emperor Narlius will decommission Boar’s Fort and put a bounty on Skinner’s head to avenge the Crown Prince’s death.” He stroked his beard thoughtfully. “If the bounty’s big enough, I might even go after his filthy hide myself.”

  “Why did you rescue me?” Orlla asked.

  A thin smile frosted Lord Davian’s lips. “The dragon stones and the forbidden runes are inextricably intertwined.” His tone dripped malice as he continued. “Much as I wish it were otherwise, I cannot avail of their power without a rune weaver at my disposal.”

  A foreboding feeling spread through Orlla. “But, you don’t have the stones.”

  Lord Davian’s face betrayed nothing as he reached inside his saddlebag. Orlla’s breath stuck in her throat when he produced a bulging sack. He caressed it for a moment, a hint of amusement in his serpent-like green eyes. “You didn’t really think I would leave the palace without it, did you?”

  “How did you get your hands on it?” Orlla gasped. She leaned over to grab the sack, hardly daring to believe he had the dark dragon stone in his possession.

  Lord Davian snatched it out of her reach. “Do you deem me foolish enough to allow you to handle the Onyx now that I have seen what you can do with it?”

  “I never meant for the Crown Prince to come to any harm,” Orlla said, her chest tightening at the disturbing memory.

  Lord Davian gave a careless shrug. “One less thorn in my side. Now that I know the dragons are protective of those who invoke the forbidden rune, we will use that to our advantage.” His eyes glistened with anticipation. “We will vanquish all who stand against us.”

  “I won’t invoke the stone’s power again,” Orlla said. “Not for your evil ends.”

  He gave a hollow laugh. “No matter. I have a much more urgent mission for you.”

  Orlla eyed him warily, waiting on him to elaborate.

  He leaned in closer. “The dark dragon stone only assures me of victory if I don’t have to contend with the Opal of Light. I need both stones to be truly powerful. I know you left the light dragon stone in the care of the other Keepers. Now, you will lead me to it.”

  Orlla let out a derisive snort. “Never!”

  Lord Davian grabbed her by the arm and squeezed until she bleated in pain. “Make no mistake, you have the blood of the Crown Prince of Ithaton on your hands. If you defy me, I will turn you over to Emperor Narlius, and I can assure you your death won’t be a quick one.”

  “The dragon stones must be kept safe from the greed of humankind,” Orlla said. “The Keepers have taken the Opal of Light deep into the Angladior mountains for safekeeping. Even I don’t know where they are.”

  Lord Davian’s face grew thunderous. “Then find out,” he bellowed, as he got to his feet. “Construct a communications rune and make contact with them.”

  Orlla tried to hide her surprise that Lord Davian knew of the communications runes Keepers employed between one another. It was a well-kept Conservatory secret. Communications runes required considerable mental energy and power to wield, and were rarely used, unless a grave necessity called for them. It was the only way she would be able to contact the Keepers once she reached the Angladior mountains, but she wouldn’t ply a communications rune as long as Lord Davian was trying to use her to get to the Opal of Light. She would pretend to go along with his demands, but once they reached the mountains, she would devise another plan.

  After Lord Davian had dispatched perimeter guards and assigned
the remaining soldiers to shifts, they settled in for the night. Despite her exhaustion, Orlla tucked her hands beneath her head and stared sleeplessly into the night sky. Were Akolom and Erdhan out there somewhere looking for her? Or had Erdhan been caught by Emperor Narlius and executed for murdering a guard and escaping? And what of Shanks and Khor? Were they at Boar’s Fort preparing to ambush Lord Davian?

  She frowned at a rustling sound. Her heartbeat picked up pace as she held her body rigid and listened intently. She waited for a few more minutes before dismissing the noise as an animal moving about in the brush, or one of the guards doing his rounds. In her mind, she began recapping the communications runes she would need to contact the Keepers. Although she wouldn’t use them to betray the Keepers to Lord Davian, she could at least warn them that he was bound for the Angladior mountains.

  Suddenly, a guttural scream cut through the air. Orlla sat bolt upright. Instantly, the camp was awash with shadowy figures leaping over the sleeping soldiers, cutting through the air with gleaming swords. Fly-blades whipped through the darkness, burying themselves in the startled soldiers as they shot to their feet, reaching for their weapons too late.

  Orlla’s heart thudded against her ribs. It had to be mercenaries. Skinner had come to avenge his men, which meant Shanks must have made it back to Boar’s Fort safely. She cast a frenzied glance around, and her eyes lit on Lord Davian’s bloodied body only a few feet from the campfire. Her jaw went slack. Scarcely daring to breathe, she slithered over to him on her belly and reached for the sack his lifeless fingers were still curled around. She froze in place for a heartbeat or two to make sure she hadn’t been noticed, and then wrenched Davian’s dagger free of its scabbard before inching her way over to the brush. She cast a glance over her shoulder at the shadowy fray, men struggling back and forth as blows fell thick and fierce, and then hurriedly crawled under the bushes that bordered the campsite.