He nodded. “The skiff’s clear. Let’s go!”
They scampered over to the dock and clambered aboard. Erdhan untied the line securing the skiff to a post and pushed off with one of his oars. Orlla grabbed a second set of oars and dipped them into the water, trying not to imagine what might be lurking below the inky surface.
Glancing back at the shore, she was shocked to see a thin line of torches flickering through the trees. “Row harder!” she shouted to Erdhan. “They’re almost down to the river.” Her muscles burned as she drove the paddles into the water, straining to make the skiff move faster. Part of her feared what awaited them around the next bend, but she pushed the thought of the riverdrake away, focusing instead on matching Erdhan’s rhythm as he rowed.
Shouts from the shoreline cut across the water, letting them know they’d been spotted. Orlla cast another frantic glance over her shoulder, horrified to see armed men swarming down the embankment like locusts. She couldn’t say for sure if they were mercenaries or fugitives, or some mixture of both, but there was no mistaking the crossbows in their hands. “Stay down!” she yelled to Akolom at the back of the boat. She rowed furiously, hunching over as arrows punctured the skiff, some landing in the water around them. Her heart pounded mercilessly until at last they rounded the river bend and slipped out of sight of their attackers.
Shoulders sagging with relief, she let the oars dangle over the edge of the skiff as she heaved a breath. “That was close,” she gasped, turning to grin at Akolom.
Her mentor lay prostrate, impaled to the bottom of the skiff by an arrow through his shoulder.
Chapter 26
“Akolom’s hit!” Orlla yelled to Erdhan.
Akolom groaned, his face blanched with pain. “Just keep paddling and get us out of here.”
“We’re safe for the moment,” she reassured him, squeezing his hand.
Erdhan scrambled back to them and knelt at Akolom’s side. He gave Orlla a furtive nod and said in a strained whisper, “We need to get that arrow out. Hold him steady.”
Orlla gritted her teeth as she went about restraining Akolom. He flinched beneath her grip when Erdhan felt around inside the wound with his fingertips. “It’s not lodged in the bone,” he said, carefully twisting the shaft and pulling it free.
Akolom let out a pained grunt, keeping his eyes scrunched shut. Orlla held a hand above the wound and spoke a basic healing rune over him. Healing runes weren’t her specialty, but it would suffice to repair the wound in the absence of anything to stitch it with.
“What have we got to dress his shoulder with?” Erdhan asked.
Orlla hesitated. “What about the sack the Onyx is in?”
“No!” Akolom protested weakly. “Don’t touch it. Take a piece of my cloak.”
Erdhan whipped out his knife and went to work slicing a generous strip of material from the bottom of the woolen cloak. He handed it to Orlla and resheathed his knife. When the wound was wrapped, and Akolom had been made as comfortable as possible in the jouncing skiff, Erdhan and Orlla settled back into position and began rowing again.
“Stay alert for any activity on the banks,” Erdhan said. “They could surprise us farther down the river.”
“I’m keeping a close eye on the water too,” Orlla replied. “We’re in as much danger from what stalks us in this river as what stalks us from its banks.”
The words had barely escaped her lips before she heard a loud splash behind them. She whipped her head around in time to see something flick and disappear below the surface of the water. It was so fast she couldn’t be sure if it was the tip of a firedrake’s tail, or some other kind of creature. Either way, it was large enough to threaten the stability of their skiff. “There’s something in the water,” she said, fighting to hold her voice steady.
“Keep rowing,” Erdhan shouted back to her. “We lose momentum every time you turn your head to look. Akolom can watch the river behind us.”
Orlla threw another worried glance over her shoulder at her mentor. His eyes were closed and his breathing unnaturally shallow. “He’s in no position to help us. We need to get him to shore as soon as possible.”
“No!” he moaned through cracked lips. “Keep paddling!”
“We need to get far enough down river to lose our pursuers,” Erdhan said, shoulders locking as he heaved on the oars.
Orlla leaned forward and concentrated on the task at hand. Erdhan was right. Stopping now would only endanger all of their lives. The best thing she could do to save Akolom was to row like she meant it.
As they progressed downstream, Orlla’s shoulders began to tire and sweat trickled down her face. She blinked repeatedly to clear her vision, not wanting to miss a stroke and risk breaking the steady rhythm she and Erdhan had established. From time to time, she called out to Akolom, her heart lurching until his quavering voice reassured her he was still conscious.
A distant sound of thunder startled her. “There must be a storm brewing,” she called up to Erdhan. “Maybe it’s a good time to head for shore.”
He stopped rowing and rested his oars on the edge of the skiff as he listened. “That’s not thunder. There are rapids up ahead.”
Orlla gripped the oars tightly. “This skiff won’t make it through the rocks. It’s already leaking in a couple of spots where the arrows penetrated it.”
“We’re going to have to bail at the next bend before the river picks up speed,” Erdhan said in a resigned tone. “Paddle for that sand bar up ahead.”
Orlla rowed with all her strength, her arms crying out for relief as they fought the power of the current and navigated the lopsided skiff over to the sandbar. When they reached a pool of shallow water, Erdhan jumped out and dragged the skiff up onto the narrow beach before helping Akolom to his feet. Orlla scanned the area for any sign of their pursuers, or watchful eyes, human or otherwise, before leading the others up the embankment and back into the woodlands.
“We can’t be far from Gaunt’s abode now,” Orlla said, as she slashed her way through the knotty undergrowth with her dagger. “We just need to find our way back to the trail.” She moved purposefully, despite her aching shoulder muscles, determined to reach Gaunt’s treehouse before nightfall. Akolom’s wound needed to be washed and treated with herbs to avoid infection. She wasn’t counting on her primitive healing rune doing the job.
She turned at a scuffling sound, dismayed to see Akolom stumble and collapse against Erdhan. She sped back to them and checked to make sure Akolom was breathing. “He’s sweating profusely,” she said, as she laid a hand on his hot forehead. “That can mean only one thing—infection.”
Erdhan shook his head. “It couldn’t have set in that fast.”
Orlla grimaced and set her jaw. “Unless the arrow tip was poisoned.”
Erdhan stared at her, mouth agape. “But we don’t know what plants or herbs around here to use as an antidote. Can you wield a healing rune to counteract poison?”
She bit her lip. “I only know basic wound care runes. Healing was never my area of expertise.”
“There must be something you can do. You’re a Keeper!”
Orlla cast a dubious eye at the sack tied to Akolom’s waist. She swallowed hard, fighting the urge to hold the stone in her hands again. Maybe she could avail of the power of the Onyx to save Akolom. She tore her eyes away from the sack, forcing herself to think rationally. Only the Opal of Light brought health—the Onyx of Darkness was a dispenser of sickness and disease. It would not aid in Akolom’s healing, no matter how much she tried to convince herself otherwise.
Erdhan tugged a hand through his tousled blond curls, frustration rippling across his face. “What about a communications rune? Maybe you can reach the other Keepers and have the healers among them weave the necessary runes.”
“I’ve never attempted a communications rune before,” Orlla said. “They require an inordinate amount of mental energy and strength. If I fail, I’ll deplete all the power available to me to veil or prote
ct us should the need arise.”
“If Akolom has been poisoned, he will die here in the forest,” Erdhan replied.
Orlla nodded distractedly, her heart tightening in her chest as a sudden vision of the swirling mass of color that loitered at the center of the dark dragon stone flashed to mind. She was vaguely aware it was fighting for her attention again, calling her away from reaching out to the other Keepers, asking her to trust it instead. She studied Akolom’s wrinkled face. There was so much power in the beautiful, black Onyx. Maybe it could be used for good.
After all, who really knew for sure that the Opal of Light always protected while the Onyx of Darkness always destroyed? The annals were ancient writings, and the truths about the stones had never been tested in living history. She interlaced her fingers and squeezed them together as she wrestled with her decision. Akolom would not want her to tap the power of the dark dragon stone again for his sake. He would warn her that the Onyx wrought confusion. Was she confused? Perhaps both stones were equally capable of whatever she sought in the moment. She ran her fingers over her throbbing forehead. There was only one way to find out.
She reached for the sack at Akolom’s waist, yelping in pain when Erdhan’s fist closed around her wrist. His eyes flashed a brilliant blue. “No! Akolom told us not to touch it. The stone seeks a servant, and your gift makes you susceptible to its call.”
Orlla heaved in a breath as she slowly came to her senses and her head cleared. She had almost slipped up again and touched the dark dragon stone. She had sworn not to go near it until it could be destroyed, but she was helpless to resist its pull. “You must protect me from it as long as Akolom cannot,” she whispered.
Erdhan gave a grim nod and pulled her to her feet. “I won’t let it hurt you.” He kissed the top of her head gently. “We must either attempt the communications rune or keep moving. I’ll carry Akolom on my back if I have to.”
Orlla took a deep breath. “Give me a few minutes alone.” She turned and pushed her way deeper into the undergrowth until the dark forest enclosed her on all sides. Squeezing her eyes shut, she began weaving the foundational layers of a communications rune that would have to reach deep into the Angladior mountains. Her lips moved silently as her mind focused on the complex combinations required to construct such a far-reaching rune.
After several minutes, her mind began to weaken under the strain. Pushing the thought of failure aside, she refocused and continued rune weaving, speaking the words aloud to bolster her courage. A tingle went down her arms, flushing her fingers with warmth. Her head spun and a heartbeat later the blurred faces of the Keepers floated into view. They waited in silence for her to speak, their expressions expectant.
The sound of her blood thundering through her veins filled Orlla’s ears. Words tumbled out and she heard herself explaining what had befallen them and requesting an urgent healing rune for Akolom. For an elongated moment, nothing happened, and she wondered if they could hear her. Then, the faces of the Keepers glided together, overlaying one another, defying gravity as they hovered in front of her. Their lips moved in unison, their hands stretched out toward her. As their restorative words washed over her, a renewed strength filled her mind and body.
Hope kindled afresh inside her. If the Keepers could reach her, they could touch Akolom with their healing power. All at once, Jubel floated out from the rest of the group, gazing intently at Orlla. “It is done. Akolom is well,” her lips mouthed. “Now, we must strengthen what remains of your rune weaving power, for you will have much need of it before you reach the safety of the Angladior mountains.” She turned, fading briefly from sight. When she drifted back into view, she carried a smooth white stone in her hands. Orlla felt a brilliant burning sensation in her chest as the Opal suddenly exploded with light, shielding the Keepers from view. Her body shook as though a lightning bolt had gone through it, and she fell forward on her hands and knees.
“Orlla!” Erdhan’s voice was urgent, growing louder in her ears. She shook her head to clear her thoughts and staggered to her feet, lightheaded from the vision. “Akolom?” she wheezed, still reeling from the power that had ripped through her.
“He’s better,” Erdhan responded, holding out a hand to steady her. “Are you all right?”
She nodded, replaying the explosion of light in her mind—the staggering power and brilliance of the Opal, so pure in its essence, an allure that was the polar opposite of its counterpart.
A grateful smile broke out across her face when Akolom came walking into view. “I have to confess I held out little hope of the communications rune working,” she said, her voice cracking. “I was so afraid I’d lose you.”
Akolom smiled warmly back at her as he placed his hands on her shoulders. “You are even stronger than I gave you credit for. Such a rune normally requires decades to build up the mental stamina to execute. The High Dragon King has been pleased to bless you with remarkable abilities for such a time as this.”
“Speaking of such a time as this, we need to push on to Gaunt’s abode,” Erdhan cut in. “The light is fading fast.”
With renewed purpose, they continued carving a path in a southeasterly direction through the woodlands. When Erdhan let out a triumphant whoop announcing that he had found the trail again, Orlla and Akolom raced to catch up with him.
“I can smell the sinking bogs from here.” Orlla sniffed the air delicately. “We must be close.”
They fell silent as they hurried along the trail at a pace that pushed them all to their limits.
“That’s the way to Gaunt’s house,” Orlla said, pointing excitedly to the broken branches that marked the hidden footpath.
Heartened by the thought of being reunited with their horses and tucking into another of Gaunt’s fragrantly flavored rabbit and parsnip stews, they barreled along the path toward the treehouse as quickly as the undergrowth permitted.
Orlla was the first to reach the clearing. She pulled up short and looked around in horror at the scattered remnants of Gaunt’s abode and the giant claw marks that scored the surrounding trees.
Chapter 27
Erdhan and Akolom came racing up next to Orlla and stared in shock at the demolished treehouse.
“The dark dragons must have come through here,” Orlla said in a breathless whisper.
“Spread out and search the area for Gaunt. I’ll check on the horses,” Akolom said. Without waiting for a response, he hurried off to the back of the treehouse where Gaunt kept his mule tethered.
“Gaunt!” Orlla yelled his name repeatedly as she picked her way through the wreckage. “Are you here? It’s me, Orlla.” A yellow-bellied warbler landed on a nearby branch, chastising her with an emphatic chirping before flying off again. A heavy silence descended over the clearing. Orlla’s throat tightened until she could scarcely catch a breath. Did the bird witness what happened? If the dark dragons had attacked Gaunt, she would never forgive herself. She had unleashed a destructive power she could not control. The dark dragon stone had deceived her in every possible way. She was not its master, she was its minion in its insidious scheme to kill and destroy. Her fingers shook as she lifted up a piece of siding and peered beneath it, dreading what she might find.
“Go check the perimeter. I’ll finish searching through the rubble,” Erdhan said.
She bobbed her head in thanks, grateful not to have to face the possibility of uncovering Gaunt’s body amid the wreckage. She moved off between the trees, tense and watchful. The dragons were nowhere to be seen, and the remnants of their black breath had long since dissipated into the fog. But after seeing the terrifying creatures that lived in the river, she couldn’t be sure they didn’t have their counterparts on land. She peered nervously over her shoulder. There could be all sorts of dangerous beasts that inhabited the starless woodlands. Whatever had ripped the treehouse apart was larger and deadlier than any animal she was familiar with, and she was not about to let her guard down for even a minute.
After searching in vain
for any trace of Gaunt, Orlla returned to the clearing, sick to her stomach. If the dragons had come through here, they might have carried Gaunt off in their talons just as they had with the fugitives. A sob rose up in her throat when her eyes latched onto Erdhan, hunched over and picking distractedly through the debris like he too had given up hope of finding anything. He lifted his head when he heard her approaching. His eyes softened at the despairing look on her face. “There’s no sign of Gaunt, but no blood either, so that’s encouraging.”
“Maybe he wasn’t here when it happened,” Orlla replied, jumping on the sliver of hope Erdhan’s words offered.
He grimaced. “Let’s hope you’re right. Judging by the size of those claw marks, it was dragons that tore the place apart. He wouldn’t have survived such an attack.”
They turned at the sound of footsteps. Akolom approached them, his face wrought with anguish. “Our horses are gone.”
Orlla clenched her fists. Their steeds were their only real chance of making it back to the Angladior mountains ahead of their pursuers.
“Gone, as in ran off?” Erdhan prompted.
Akolom rubbed a hand over his lined face. “Gone, as in devoured. Something was feeding on them. The dark dragons must have spotted them when they flew off after attacking the fugitives.”
Orlla swallowed down the bile rising from her stomach as she eyed the sack secured around Akolom’s waist. The dark dragon stone had left a trail of death in its wake, just like the annals warned. Not even an innocent beast was safe from its vile agenda.
“We might as well make camp here for the night,” Erdhan suggested. “We can salvage some of these supplies to make a temporary shelter.”
Orlla nodded. “If Gaunt’s alive, there’s a chance he’ll come back by morning. Maybe we can persuade him to come with us. There’s nothing left for him here.”
Onyx of Darkness_An epic dragon fantasy Page 21