Yorien's Hand (The Minstrel's Song Book 3)

by Jenelle Leanne Schmidt

  “I don’t mind,” Yole interrupted.

  “No,” Leila shook her head, “but you might not always have the time to fly across the ocean. Your people have their own duties and affairs to worry about. In any case, I believed the matter was worth looking into. I contacted Dylanna and asked for her assistance. From the journals, I had a fairly good idea about how it could be accomplished. Dylanna was more hesitant than I, not wanting to stir up anything too grand, but she came anyway. I wanted to test my understanding in the Harshlands, a place full of wild magic similar to my own. I understand it and can make use of it, which is why I make my home there. I thought it would aid me in my attempt to rediscover this lost art.”

  Leila’s shoulders slumped for a moment. Then she looked up at each of her friends in turn. Her expression pleaded with them to understand and not judge her for what she had done.

  “Leila,” Dylanna spoke up. “What happened was not your fault. It had nothing to do with the Harshlands. The experiment should have worked. There was something more powerful than us in play, something you could not have planned for or even expected to find.”

  Leila managed a watery smile of gratitude. “Dylanna arrived and we set up the experiment. I had my father’s journals ready, though I had memorized every word. Since I was most familiar with what we would be doing, Dylanna agreed to provide the power and let me handle the delicate details. We had just begun when,” Leila paused and took a shaky breath, “I felt something go wrong. It was like someone else was grabbing hold of my power and twisting it out of my control. I tried to pull it back, but I wasn’t strong enough.” Leila faltered and Kiernan put an arm around her shoulders.

  The others waited, giving the wizardess time to compose herself.

  Leila took several slow, deep breaths. “Everything grew very cold. I could feel myself growing numb. I tried to shut down the experiment, but I no longer had control of it. I tried to cut myself off from Dylanna, but I found myself powerless. The numbness spread until I lost consciousness. When I awoke...” Leila’s voice broke, but she visibly pulled herself together and continued, “When I awoke, I was in the prison where Kiernan found me. But... it was different for me than it was for Dylanna.” She paused, her face twisted in anguish.

  Kiernan laid a gentle hand on the wizardess’s shoulder, “It’s all right,” he whispered, “just tell them.”

  Leila squeezed her eyes shut and when she opened them again tears clung to her long lashes. “I’ve seen the Enemy,” she said, her voice a hoarse whisper.

  Kamarie and Oraeyn exchanged startled glances. Brant shifted slightly, his hand reaching for his sword in an involuntary motion. The three dragons leaned forward in interest.

  “Did you discover his name?” Kiernan asked, his voice low and quiet.

  “Ghrendourak,” Leila shuddered and her face turned pale. She turned and buried her head in Kiernan’s shoulder, her shoulders shaking with deep sobs. She remained that way for a few moments, and then she turned back to the others, her face streaked with tears, her nose and cheeks red. “His name is Ghrendourak,” she whispered, “and he does indeed possess the power of the Ancient Enemy. He is reaching into our world once more, just as Kiernan warned you about.”

  “What does he look like?” Oraeyn asked, unable to contain his curiosity.

  “Like anything he wants,” Leila snapped. “The power controlling him is ancient and devastating. I do not know who or what Ghrendourak was before the Enemy touched him, but he is that creature or man no longer. He is not bound to any one flesh or shape. The way he prefers to appear is as a giant of a man, taller than Brant, with a long cloak wrapped around him and a crown upon his head. His face is hidden by a great hood. But there is an intensity in that shadowy chasm where his face ought to be. His gaze may be hidden, but yet it seared into my heart, seeking out all my weaknesses and revealing them one by one. I cowered before him. I do not know why he kept me alive. He rides a great werehawk, a bird like none other. It is fierce and cruel, with razor sharp claws and silver wings.”

  Kamarie and Oraeyn shared a meaningful glance.

  “He came into the portal, as you call it, and taunted me,” Leila said. “He told me I had been in his prison for years and that all those I had once known and loved were long since dead. He told me he had taken over all of Tellurae Aquaous and enslaved all the free people. He showed me visions of the world he would create.

  “He told me I had been long forgotten, that nobody even remained alive to come rescue me, nobody even remembered that I existed. He wanted me to join him. Often he came, offering me a place at his side. It grew harder to disbelieve what he was saying. He showed me countless visions of the world he claimed he had already created, and they haunted me when he left. I could not join him, but I no longer doubted him. I was resigned to an eternity of hopelessness and despair; a torment of life with no hope of death.

  “When Kiernan arrived and tried to rescue me I fought him, thinking it was a new trap. I thought he was just another lie… I fought him…” Leila broke off her story.

  Kiernan Kane wrapped his arms around her, and Leila leaned into his embrace. Great, shuddering sobs wracked her slight frame. The sorrow and compassion of her companions was reflected in their own tears. To see their beloved Leila, who so loved life and filled it with her delight and laughter, broken so cruelly was unbearable for them to watch, let alone endure.

  “He fed on my fear,” Leila said, her voice full of bitterness, “I helped make him stronger.”

  Suddenly Kamarie could bear it no longer. She crossed the room and wrapped her arms around Leila, adding her embrace to Kiernan’s.

  “Leila, you are not to blame. Ghrendourak selected you because you represent all that is best in this world; you are life itself and you bring life wherever you go. Why else do you think that you alone can thrive in the Harshlands when no one else would even try? You inspire life, and Ghrendourak, or the power controlling him, desires only death.”

  Kiernan continued to hold Leila as Kamarie stepped back.

  “We will stop him, this Ghrendourak,” Oraeyn said.

  Everyone turned to look at him. He had drawn the Fang Blade and was standing there, like a hero of old.

  “Tomorrow we travel to Emnolae. We must continue our quest to retrieve Yorien’s Hand and use it to put an end to this threat. We will use any means necessary to defeat this Enemy. Even if it means we die trying, we must not give up. Here on this sword I swear I will not halt in my quest until Ghrendourak is no more.”

  “You will not go alone,” Kamarie said quickly, speaking for all of them.

  “Indeed, you cannot go without me,” Kiernan whispered softly, but not quietly enough.

  Brant turned to him, a quizzical look on his face. “Minstrel?”

  “Indeed, he cannot go by himself. This task may belong to Oraeyn, but not to him alone,” Kiernan replied smoothly. “Watching and waiting is over. At long last, the time for action has arrived.”

  Oraeyn turned to the wizardesses. “Dylanna and Leila, neither of you is in any condition to travel with us to Emnolae, and I hate to make this request of you, but we have no one else to call upon.”

  “What do you need?” Dylanna asked.

  “One of you must find King Jemson and explain to him the events that are transpiring throughout the lands, and one of you must return to Aom-igh and report what you learned within the portal so as to help Justan prepare the defense of our beloved home. We await battle against an enemy unseen, with the exception of Leila. Hopefully, her vision can help find a weakness in his attack. Will you do this for us?”

  Dylanna nodded firmly. “We can do that.”

  Oraeyn squared his shoulders. “It’s settled then. We shall say our goodbyes tomorrow morning. We leave at first light. There is not a moment to lose.”

  With that, the small company retired to their beds. The three dragons went out into the yards and took their true forms, preferring to sleep in the o
pen air.

  Despite the events of the past day, Yole was not tired. His thoughts churned like the oars on a great ship and he could not get comfortable. At length he stood up and prowled around a bit. Thorayenak sat up and shook out his wings.

  “Is everything well, youngling?”

  “No,” Yole replied. “Who would do such a thing to Dylanna and Leila? They are two of the kindest, best people I know. I find it hard to believe that anyone could be so cruel to someone so good. Hearing their story angers me. There are things in the world I never dreamed of, and they are disturbing.” Heat flared in his chest as he spoke, and Yole raked his claws into the soft dirt of the ground.

  “Truly,” Rhimmell’s voice burst from her as she sat up. “But there is great beauty in the world, as well, young one. Do not let yourself be overwhelmed by the evil you see. You must cling to the light you know exists, even when it appears to be blotted out by the darkness. The love of Cruithaor Elchiyl, the kindness of the wizardesses, the loyalty of your friends, the wisdom of the Minstrel, these are the reasons we continue.”

  Yole scratched at the ground with his claw in frustration. “I wish I understood more. I wish I knew why you both speak of Kiernan with such awe.”

  “Your eyes are open, are they not?” Rhimmell’s voice held a slight hint of reprimand. “Did you not see the way he located the portal none else could see or sense? Did you not watch him enter that prison and return with the Wilding wizardess in his arms? Were you truly blind to the assistance he gave the young king when his strength was almost spent, allowing the Wanderer enough time to rescue his beloved? Youngling, you have spent three years amongst your own kind, have you not yet learned to trust your own insight? It is not our way to teach by telling every answer. You must divine the truth of such weighty matters for yourself. If Kiernan seems but a fool to you, is it because you truly believe him to be one, or because your human friends dismiss him as such? Does the esteem of dragons yet bear no weight in your human-trained mind?”

  Yole felt a thrill of shock at Rhimmell’s words. It had never occurred to him that his opinions might be influenced by his human upbringing. He stared at the green dragon, pondering her words.

  “I,” he paused. “You are right.”

  “Watch, observe, test,” Rhimmell replied. “Learn. And come to your own conclusions. Do not be swayed overmuch by the voices of others. Especially humans.”

  “If you care so little for them, why did you come on this quest?” Yole asked.

  Rhimmell blinked one long, slow blink. “It is not that I care not for them. It is that I know them to be shortsighted. There is a difference.” She gave him a hard look.

  “They have a different kind of wisdom,” Thorayenak admonished gently. “But it is still wisdom.”

  “So you say.” Rhimmell bowed her head. “But to your question, Youngling. Why do you think I came on this quest?”

  “Because it’s important?”

  “That is true.”

  “Because of the minstrel?”

  “That is also true.”

  “I still do not understand,” Yole huffed.

  “That can be remedied with time,” Rhimmell’s eyes danced with amusement, but there was no unkindness in her tone. “You have much to learn, young one. But you have good instincts. They will serve you well if you can learn to trust them.” Rhimmell turned and prowled away, searching for a good place to sleep.

  Yole stared after her and shook his head. She had given him much to ponder.

  The night was too short, and morning came swiftly. As the sky began to turn a pale pink, the company of friends stood outside the palace, ready to set out once more. They were traveling light, their goal being both stealth and speed. Kiernan warned them that Ghrendourak would now be on alert. The rescue from the portal had saved Leila and Dylanna, but it had also most assuredly forewarned Ghrendourak that his prison had been breached and his certainty of victory was now threatened. This might motivate him to act swiftly as he turned from his conquests of other regions towards Aom-igh and Llycaelon; thus the urgency of gaining Yorien’s Hand was heightened. Kiernan believed that the imprisonment of the wizardesses was not a random act, but a calculated strategy on Ghrendourak’s part to remove anyone who might threaten his power. Having failed in this plan, Ghrendourak’s malice would only be inflamed. Rescuing Leila and Dylanna multiplied the hazards they raced towards. As they assembled, Dylanna and Leila came out to see them off.

  “I still feel I ought to come with you,” Dylanna said, sounding a little uneasy.

  “No,” Oraeyn returned. “You and Leila must warn Aom-igh, and Jemson should be made aware of the tenuous situation as well.”

  Dylanna nodded, a hint of tears in her voice. “You take care of my niece, do you hear me?” she spoke with teasing sternness, but there was true concern there as well.

  Oraeyn embraced her. “You have my word.” He turned and climbed up onto Yole’s back, and Dylanna found herself facing Brant.

  He took her hand in his own, pressing her fingers together gently in his grip and looked down at her wordlessly. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but then appeared to change his mind.

  “Take care of them,” Dylanna’s voice came out in a whisper and she grimaced, hearing herself repeat the same thing she had just said to Oraeyn.

  “Always,” Brant replied.

  Another moment passed, neither of them speaking, until Thorayenak growled and Brant released her hand so he could climb up on the dragon’s back.

  As the dragons lifted off, Dylanna watched them as they flew away, growing smaller and smaller. “Come back to me,” she whispered softly, “when all this is over. Come back to me.”

  She gazed after them until they disappeared from view, and then she sighed. Shaking herself slightly, Dylanna clapped her hands together once and took a deep breath. Much of her strength had returned and she was ready to tackle new tasks.

  “Well, we need to make contact with King Rhendak and hopefully he can communicate with Zara and Justan. Then we need to get some horses and find King Jemson to warn him of the coming threat,” Dylanna said.

  Leila nodded timidly, then she looked up. “Dylanna…” she hesitated.

  “What is it?” Dylanna caught the strange note in her sister’s voice and turned her full attention to her sister.

  “My magic is gone,” Leila whispered.

  Dylanna’s reply was quick and fierce. “No, it’s not. The portal just made it seem that way. I was afraid to reach out for it at first too, but it’s there, just as it has always been. You simply need to muster up the courage to reach for it again. Try it, you’ll see, it’s still there.”

  Leila’s lips quivered. “No,” she whispered. “I have reached for it. It’s gone. All of it.”

  “That’s not possible.”

  “I didn’t believe it at first either, but it’s true.”

  “How?”

  “When Ghrendourak imprisoned us, I told you it felt like my magic was being drawn out of me and I couldn’t stop it.”

  “Yes?”

  “Well, I couldn’t. And in the end whatever Ghrendourak did to imprison us left me unable to even touch it anymore.”

  “It’s gone completely?”

  “Yes, I am merely a shell of who I was before,” Leila said bitterly. “Ghrendourak didn’t kill me, but he may as well have.”

  “Don’t say that.”

  “Why not? It’s true,” Leila’s voice was both cynical and resigned. “I should have died in that prison. Better that than to live like this, this… this is a hollow life compared to what I once was. It’s like both of my arms have been cut off, or a part of who I am has been ripped away from me.”

  “Perhaps there is a cure,” Dylanna forced cheerful hope into her tone. “Have you spoken to Kiernan?”

  Leila shook her head. “No, I couldn’t.” Her brow furrowed. “What do you think he could do?”

  Dylanna patted her
arm reassuringly, feeling more helpless than she had ever been in her entire life. “That minstrel is far more than he seems, is all. Well, don’t worry. Perhaps it will just take time to heal.”

  “Maybe,” Leila did not sound at all hopeful. “In any case, you will have to contact King Rhendak on your own, I will not be able to help.”

  “Don’t worry about that. I have the strength to take care of this.”

  “I know.”

  For a moment Dylanna stood very still, concentrating on something Leila could not see. The former wizardess felt tears welling up, but she refused to let them appear. She had always been strong enough to cope with anything; she could deal with this, too. Dylanna’s brow furrowed in confusion and she shook her head.

  “I can’t reach him, something is blocking me,” her tone was frustrated.

  “Maybe you still need rest?”

  “No, it’s not that. I’m strong enough, but it feels like I’m coming up against a wall. It’s puzzling.”

  “Well, perhaps you shouldn’t try again for a little while. Let’s find Jemson, maybe you are tired and just don’t know it. In any case, it won’t be any harder to send the message from the borders than it is from here.”

  Dylanna agreed that her sister’s logic made sense, so they set off to find the horse-master. The stables were pristine under the care of a man named Rhian, who had been instructed by Brant to assist the two wizardesses who would be needing horses that morning. Rhian was eager to help, and he led Leila and Dylanna through the rows of stabled horses, pointing out which were the fastest, strongest, and gentlest.

  “Brant said you were to have whatever help you needed. You may take any horse in the stable except for Hawkspin there,” he pointed out a great chestnut horse, taller than any Leila had ever seen, standing well over seventeen hands.