Onyx of Darkness_An epic dragon fantasy

by Norma Hinkens

  Akolom pulled out his crystal lens and peered through it at the impenetrable barrier of shields. All of a sudden, a black stallion reared up on its back legs and the head of a rider appeared briefly above the line of shields, before the horse and rider galloped off.

  Slowly, Akolom lowered his lens, a slight tremor in his hand.

  “Did you get a good look at the rider?” Orlla asked.

  He gave a sober nod as he tucked the crystal lens back into his pocket. “His features are horribly disfigured, but he wears a crown upon his head.”

  Chapter 30

  Akolom sank to the ground, his face ashen. “King Ferghell lives.”

  Orlla shook her head, shock ricocheting through her veins. “No! It’s not possible. The fire from the dragon consumed the entire side of the ship he was standing on.”

  Franz widened his eyes and shifted a little closer to his brother.

  Erdhan gritted his teeth. “It was too dark and chaotic to see for sure what happened. King Ferghell could have moved to the other side of the ship before the dragon struck or jumped into the water, for all we know.”

  Orlla slumped down next to Akolom, her mind reeling from the dire possibility. “If King Ferghell lives, Efyllsseum will join the war to lay claim to the dragon stones.”

  “By all appearances they already have,” Akolom said. “Why else did the king accompany the Protectors to the pass?”

  Erdhan ran a hand over his chin. “If Efyllsseum is preparing to invade Macobin, then King Ferghell must believe Hamend is in possession of the light dragon stone.”

  They sat in silence for a moment, digesting the implications.

  Orlla’s thoughts churned as she tried to make sense of it. King Ferghell’s presence meant Efyllsseum was readying for war. The Protectors hadn’t merely sealed off the pass from the outside world; the entire army was likely assembled in the Angladior mountains waiting on the order to invade Macobin. Even if they managed to slip by the wall of shields, there would be hundreds more Protectors behind them. They could never enact veiling runes strong enough to hide all four of them long enough to allow them to flee to safety in the mountains and find the other Keepers.

  “We have no choice but to wait until the Protectors invade, or the Macobite army attacks, before we attempt to cross the pass,” Orlla said. “Any move we make before that would be sheer folly if Efyllsseum’s army is assembled beyond that shield wall.”

  “King Ferghell must know that more Macobite troops are moving into the forest and his odds of defeating them are decreasing by the hour,” Erdhan said. “I don’t think he’ll wait another day before invading.”

  Akolom rubbed his furrowed brow. “I agree. Our wisest course of action is to find somewhere safe to hide until the invasion begins or Hamend attacks. Then we’ll seize our chance.”

  Cautiously, they moved off though the forest, following Erdhan’s lead. Franz’s blanched face bespoke the terror gripping him at the thought of being caught up in the thick of the battle to come. Orlla’s heart ached for him. He should be home in Wilefur with his parents, learning to tend the forge. Instead, he was stuck between enemy lines, risking life and limb to transport a dragon stone that had robbed him of his family and threatened death and destruction at every turn.

  Despite searching carefully for a safe hideout, the terrain didn’t lend itself well to concealment. Other than slipping behind a tree trunk at the sound of a patrol, they could find nowhere to hunker down where they would be well-concealed.

  “We’re edging closer to Hamend’s camp all the time,” Erdhan said. “I think we should retrace our steps.”

  A distant rumble from the north caught their attention. With one accord they vanished among the nearest trees, pressing their backs against the thick trunks as they listened. The ground beneath them seemed to come alive, vibrating from somewhere deep within. Before long, the unmistakable pounding of hooves grew steadily louder. Orlla’s heartbeat thundered in her chest. “It must be the soldiers from the inn,” she muttered to Erdhan, who was shielding Franz behind a nearby tree. “Perhaps Samten is with them.”

  “Ignore him if he rides by,” Erdhan warned her. “If you try to get his attention, you’ll get us all killed.”

  Voices drifted their way and horses snorted as they traversed the woods, their pace reduced to a walk. From her vantage point behind a large oak tree, Orlla peered out at the riders as they went by. Her eyes widened in bewilderment at the unexpected sight of horsemen dressed in the garb of Pegonian soldiers. She glanced at Erdhan whose face betrayed the same confusion. Several hundred men filed through, followed by a dozen or so pennant bearers. As they passed by, Orlla recognized Brufus in their midst. Her throat tightened until she could scarcely squeeze a breath of air from her lungs.

  When the last wave of soldiers had disappeared, she slid back out. “What’s going on?” Erdhan scratched his head. “They’re heading straight to Hamend’s camp in plain sight.”

  Akolom grimaced. “They do not march to war. Brufus has joined forces with King Hamend against Efyllsseum.”

  Orlla’s skin prickled with fear at his dire pronouncement. It was the only rational explanation, but not one she wanted to entertain. Visions of a razed and looted Efyllsseum flashed before her eyes. King Ferghell had no idea of the treacherous alliance that awaited him if he invaded. Efyllsseum’s army of Protectors was well-trained, but they did not have the numbers to fight both mainland armies at once. And without the power of the Keepers’ rune weaving to protect them, they had no hope of securing victory. For the first time, she was glad her father was no longer alive to bear witness to what was about to happen. Their island was doomed, and, despite the corruption of their monarch, her heart broke for the many innocent lives that would be lost.

  “Can’t you find a way to warn King Ferghell of what awaits him?” Erdhan asked. “There’s still time for him to change his plans.”

  “How do we do that without alerting him to our presence?” Akolom countered. “He will kill us on sight.”

  “I can take a message to the Protectors shielding the pass,” Erdhan said. “Play the part of a Macobite defector seeking coin in return for passing on information about the Macobite and Pegonian troops. King Ferghell doesn’t know who I am.”

  “Please, don’t!” Franz cried out. “I have no one left but you. I don’t want to lose you.” He buried his face in his brother’s sleeve and choked out a heart-rending sob.

  Erdhan wrapped his arms around him. “Hush now, Franz. We must be strong when circumstances call for bravery.”

  “Franz is right,” Orlla said. “It’s a reckless move. The Protectors are more likely to kill a Macobite on sight than hear you out. Besides, this is not your battle to wage. Akolom and I will find a way to warn the Protectors they will be marching to their deaths if they invade.”

  Akolom paced in front of them. “First, we must make certain of our facts. We may have misread the situation entirely. Perhaps Brufus is planning to deceive Hamend by purportedly coming in peace, and then attacking the camp once his defenses are down.”

  Erdhan pulled his lips into a tight line. “Akolom makes good sense. We cannot be hasty and assume we have figured out the entirety of Brufus’s deception.”

  “Then we must follow the Pegonian army and find out what their true intentions are,” Orlla said.

  Their decision made, they crept gingerly along, following the horses’ trail toward King Hamend’s camp. Despite being on foot, they soon found themselves not far behind the battle-attired Pegonian horsemen who were moving at a casual pace. When the soldiers reached the perimeter of the camp, they dismounted and tethered their horses to nearby trees, leaving their weapons dangling in their scabbards.

  Orlla hunkered down in the undergrowth next to the others and studied the comings and goings as Macobite soldiers approached and greeted Brufus’s troops. The soldiers soon settled in around campfires and began to eat and converse. Orlla’s stomach twisted. It was just as they had feared.
The arrival of the Pegonian army had come as no surprise to King Hamend’s men.

  “This is all the confirmation we need,” Akolom said. “The mainland monarchs have obviously formed an alliance. We must devise a plan to warn King Ferghell and spare the slaughter of the Protectors and all of Efyllsseum.”

  Their heads jerked up in unison at the sound of more horses.

  “Hide!” Erdhan hissed, grabbing Franz by the shirt and pulling him after him as he ran deeper into the brush.

  Orlla and Akolom flung themselves down behind a felled log and listened to the steady pounding of hoofbeats drawing closer. Was it more Pegonian soldiers? Sweat beaded on Orlla’s forehead, a foreboding feeling niggling in her gut. These horses were galloping hard.

  When the horsemen drew level, Orlla peeked furtively around the fallen log. Her blood froze at the sight. Efyllsseum’s black-masked Protectors were riding to war, swords, daggers, and spears glinting in their hands as they filed by. She exchanged a stricken glance with Akolom. They were too late to warn their people of what lay ahead for them.

  Akolom frowned as they watched the Protectors go by. “No rune will stop this unfolding now. We must avail of our chance to flee through the pass with the dark dragon stone while we can.”

  They waited until the last of the horses had faded from view, and then stole over to where Erdhan and Franz were hiding.

  “Your king was not among them,” Franz announced. “I was watching for a man with a crown.”

  “I suspect his brush with death at the hands of the light dragon has made him leery of exposing himself to further danger,” Orlla said.

  “Or perhaps he is impaired by the injuries he sustained,” Erdhan added.

  Akolom grunted. “If he is able to ride his stallion, he is fit enough to ride to battle. He is a worse coward than I thought him to be, hiding in the pass while his Protectors fight to the death.” An alarmed look crossed his face as the first cries of battle reached them. “We must go at once. They cannot have left but a small contingent of Protectors to guard the pass.”

  Just as Akolom suspected, every Protector who could be spared had been dispatched to launch the attack on King Hamend’s camp. Four mounted Protectors remained, two blocking the entrance to the pass itself, and two more patrolling the area in front of it.

  “I could take them out with throwing knives,” Erdhan whispered.

  Akolom smoothed out his long mustache. “They may have additional Protectors hidden nearby. It would be in our best interests to avoid drawing attention to ourselves. Orlla and I will construct veiling runes to get all four of us through. They will not last long but will allow us enough time to slip—”

  “Look!” Franz interrupted excitedly! “It’s your king!”

  The others crowded around Franz and peered through the trees. King Ferghell’s black stallion pranced between the Protectors monitoring the area in front of the pass as he exchanged a few words with each of them. Orlla recoiled at the unrecognizable face beneath the crown. Gone were the meticulously-shaped and oiled black goatee and overarching eyebrows—even his eyelashes had been incinerated in what was left of his swollen face. His nose had melted away to two gaping nostrils in the midst of the blistered, reddened skin stretched painfully over his skull.

  Even Akolom looked shaken at the sight, although Orlla couldn’t be sure if it was the king’s horrific injuries, or the realization that he had survived the dragon’s fire, that shocked him more.

  After a few minutes, the king spurred his horse back through the pass and disappeared.

  Orlla turned to Akolom. “He cannot be allowed to continue to reign as Efyllsseum’s monarch. He has sent our army to their deaths.”

  Akolom nodded, a perturbed look on his face. “Once we have safely eliminated the dark dragon stone, we will convene a meeting with the other Keepers to discuss Efyllsseum’s future. After everything that has transpired, there is no question that King Ferghell must be deposed, but that is a task for another day.” He gestured to Orlla to join hands with him. “First we must breach the pass.”

  They interlaced their fingers as they raised their hands skyward and began to weave the veiling runes they would need. Orlla fought to keep her focus as the sounds of battle echoed in the distance.

  Moments later, they abruptly broke off their chanting, and stared at each other in bewilderment.

  “Did you feel that?” Akolom asked.

  Orlla nodded, a chill creeping down her spine. “Something was tugging at me. I didn’t recognize it. What was it?”

  Erdhan frowned, throwing a quick glance around them. “There’s no one here. What are you talking about?”

  “It was tugging on our minds.” Akolom gazed out at the mounted Protectors, his gray eyes piercing in their intensity. “There’s a summoning rune over the pass.”

  Erdhan scratched his head. “What’s that?”

  “It summons anyone who crosses it into the presence of its weaver,” Orlla explained.

  Akolom set his lips in a grim line. “The more important question is: who put it there?”

  Chapter 31

  Akolom turned to Orlla. “I take it you know nothing about this.”

  She gaped at him for a heartbeat, wondering if she had misheard him. “How can you suggest such a traitorous notion!” she retorted angrily, deeply hurt he would imagine for one minute that she was behind something so egregious. Even as the words flew from her mouth, she realized with a sinking feeling that it was her susceptibility to the dark dragon stone that gave him reason to doubt her.

  Erdhan placed an arm protectively around her and Franz and glowered at Akolom. “We could ask you the same thing. Orlla’s not the only rune weaver here.”

  Akolom’s face betrayed nothing. “And you would be justified in doing so. Something is afoul.”

  Orlla furrowed her brow. “If it wasn’t either of us, it must have been one of the other Keepers. Perhaps Jubel put the summoning rune in place so that we would be able to find them more easily.”

  Akolom shook his head, the lines on his forehead deepening. “She would have mentioned it when we spoke with her. A summoning rune displaces all other runes and renders them void. It is extremely dangerous. Those summoned often suffer memory problems and confusion, sometimes personality changes. Such runes have not been wielded in Efyllsseum for centuries.”

  They fell silent for a moment, at a loss to explain the source of a rune that would endanger them. The distressed whinnying of horses in battle carried through the air and they exchanged harrowed glances—time was running out and they needed to move quickly.

  “Maybe the Keepers were trying to summon King Ferghell and aid us in our passage,” Erdhan suggested.

  “Then why was the king able to ride right through it and not—” Akolom stopped mid-sentence, the color draining from his face.

  “What’s wrong?” Orlla asked in alarm, her eyes sweeping anxiously over her mentor. “Are you ill?”

  She reached a hand toward him, but he brushed it impatiently away, his expression hardening. “I have been a fool.” He stared at the black-masked Protectors for a long moment. “King Ferghell is no more. The man upon his battle charger is an imposter.”

  “But he wears the king’s crown!” Franz protested.

  “And royal robes,” Orlla added.

  Erdhan threw Akolom a skeptical look but said nothing, waiting on him to explain himself.

  Akolom clenched his teeth. “A deceiver has seized control of the kingdom, and laid claim to Efyllsseum’s throne.”

  “What are you talking about?” Orlla questioned, her heartbeat thumping painfully in her chest. “You make no sense.”

  Akolom’s eyes narrowed and glittered. “Someone did survive the dragon’s judgement that fateful day on the Grisalt Straits, but it wasn’t King Ferghell—it was Barhus.”

  Orlla let out an audible gasp. Her thoughts crashed against her brain like waves pounding a cliff face. They had taken the crown on the man’s head as confirm
ation that it was the king himself, but his disfigured features had made it difficult to tell for sure. Was it possible they had been grossly deceived? Barhus had betrayed them before, and he was a Keeper—a weaver of runes. He had always been greedy for power—he had craved it enough to become King Ferghell’s spy within the Conservatory. It all made perfect sense. The summoning rune was a trap, not designed to transport them to the safety of the other Keepers, but to deliver them into Barhus’s grasping hands.

  “Akolom’s right,” Orlla said in a sober tone. “It’s the only explanation that makes sense. None other than a Keeper could have woven the summoning rune. And the Protectors would follow Barhus because he was loyal to King Ferghell up until the very end.”

  “But why would he send the Protectors to attack the mainland armies?” Erdhan asked. “He knows they can’t win.”

  “He cares nothing about the Protectors, or the battle they are waging,” Akolom contended. “It’s all a sideshow. He sent them through the pass and then put the summoning rune in place. He realizes we are desperate to reconnect with the other Keepers, and he is equally desperate to get his hands on the light dragon stone. With the Opal of Light and a legion of white dragons under his command, he won’t need Protectors, or any other army.” Akolom paused, an anguished look in his eyes. “Unbeknownst to him, he will have both dragon stones at his disposal should he capture us.”

  “Is there any way to counteract the summoning rune?” Orlla asked.

  Akolom shook his head. “Summoning runes can only be recalled by their weavers.”

  “Then we’ll find another way through the mountains,” Orlla said resolutely.

  Erdhan grimaced. “There is no other navigable pass—you know that. Macobite soldiers searched in vain for years.”

  “We can’t give up now!” A distraught note crept into Orlla’s voice. “We’ve come too far.”

  Akolom frowned. “We cannot counter the summoning rune, but we can construct mental protection runes to diminish the effects of memory loss and confusion.”