Dragons' Onyx

by Richard S. Tuttle

  “Let us eat,” suggested Boris. “We should retire early tonight so we can get an early start.”

  The group of magicians gathered around the campfire and ate silently. Niki and Fredrik stole glances at Master Mustar, but neither of them was willing to offer small talk during the meal because of the rocky edge of emotion that Mustar displayed earlier. At the end of the meal, Boris rose.

  “I am going to bed,” Master Khatama announced. “It will be crowded in the wagon until we find another horse. I suggest that we all get some sleep.”

  Without further words, Boris walked off. Niki rose and gathered the utensils and took them to wash in a bucket. Mustar glanced at Fredrik and caught the young mage staring at him.

  “I do not bite,” declared Mustar. “Not often anyways. I take it that you have not been informed of our mission?”

  “I did not know we were waiting for anyone until you appeared,” replied Fredrik. “Where are we going and why?”

  “It is not my place to say,” Mustar responded after a moment of hesitation. “I was ill-mannered when I argued with Master Khatama earlier. This journey is his. We are only along for what we can offer in aid to him. Do you understand who he is?”

  “I have heard about the Mage,” nodded Fredrik. “I am not sure that I fully grasp who he is though.”

  “At least you are honest,” smiled Mustar. “I feel the same, and I have been a Master for many years. The Mage is eternal. Some say that he is a child of the gods themselves. Others say his life is without beginning or end. Over the years I knew him as Egam. He was a Master when I was but a child.”

  “Have you never asked him?” questioned Fredrik.

  “I would not be so presumptuous,” smiled Mustar. “His answer in any event would likely be beyond my comprehension.”

  “Master Khatama mentioned that you were involved in some type of experiment dealing with the Darkness,” offered Fredrik. “He said that he was waiting for the Emerald of the Elves to be restored before he could determine what to do next. Is that what this is all about? Are we on some quest to deal with the Darkness?”

  “That is as close an answer as I could give,” nodded Mustar. “Master Khatama believes that the Darkness is the essence of Alutar, the Great Demon. I was skeptical at first, but I now concur. My analysis today only confirms my worst expectation.”

  “But the Darkness will not matter much longer,” shrugged Fredrik. “King Arik will banish it entirely before long. He has already restored five of the seven gems required. It is my understanding that the seventh gem will eradicate the Darkness entirely.”

  “That is what we are supposed to believe,” frowned Mustar. “In fact, King Arik must be stopped. He cannot be allowed to restore the Sword of Heavens completely. That is why I have come to assist the Mage.”

  “Stop King Arik?” Fredrik blurted out. “I don’t understand. Everything we have been doing has been in support of Arik. I am supposed to kill Sarac with the restored Sword of Heavens. I do not believe your words. You must be trying to test my loyalty. Know that I stand firmly behind King Arik and his quest.”

  “If you think this is a test of your loyalty,” scowled Mustar, “then you should wonder about who you should be loyal to. Does a young human king take precedence over an eternal Mage? Can you possibly believe that Arik’s quest is more important than Egam’s? If you do, you have no comprehension of the world or its history. Have you ever heard of the Great Demon, Alutar?”

  “Alutar is the demon who anointed Sarac as the Dark One,” Fredrik replied hesitantly. “He is locked away in another Universe without any chance of escape.”

  “So we were led to believe,” sighed Mustar. “Were that true, following King Arik would be the right thing to do. Unfortunately, we have all been tricked, including Sarac.”

  “Including Sarac?” echoed Fredrik. “You are saying things that make no sense. You must explain yourself.”

  “I am told that you are an intelligent and talented young man,” retorted Mustar. “Let me pose a dilemma to you and see what your conclusion is. You have been present at least once when the Sword of Heavens banished the Darkness?”

  “Yes, I have,” nodded Fredrik.

  “Where did the Darkness go?” inquired Mustar.

  “It rolled away,” answered Fredrik.

  “But to where?” pushed Mustar.

  Fredrik hesitated and finally answered, “Back to the areas still covered with Darkness, I suppose.”

  “A valid assumption,” agreed Mustar. “And where will it go when the last gem is restored to the Sword of Heavens? There will be no other Darkness for it to roll back to.”

  “I don’t know,” admitted Fredrik. “I have never thought about it.”

  “Nor has anyone else until just recently,” Mustar pointed out. “You see, that is the trick that we have all fallen for. The Darkness must go somewhere. At first it was thought to have been destroyed by the Sword of Heavens, but we now know that that is not true. The effects on Master Khatama’s memory proves that the Darkness is concentrating in areas that have not yet been cleared. So if it is not destroyed, but rather concentrated, what happens when the last gem is restored?”

  “I suppose that someplace in the world there will be a dense cloud of Darkness,” offered Fredrik. “Is that so bad? If the place is known, could it not be charted and avoided?”

  “Given the mass of the Darkness,” lectured Mustar, “when it finally gathers in that small dense cloud that you mention, it will no longer be a cloud. It will be solid.”

  “Do you mean like a rock?” queried Fredrik. “If so, that would make things easier. It would be easy to dispose of.”

  “You are slow,” Mustar shook his head. “The Darkness is alive. In fact, the Darkness is made up of the essence of Alutar. The trick that Alutar played on Sarac was to ensure the Great Demon’s freedom. When the seventh gem is restored to the Sword of Heavens, the Darkness will coalesce into Alutar himself.”

  “But he is imprisoned,” argued Fredrik.

  “He is imprisoned in the sense that he cannot see Junctions,” corrected Mustar. “His Universe is the only one that did not collapse, therefore we expect that he is imprisoned. Consider for a moment that Alutar would have no reason to trust Sarac. Add to your knowledge the fact that Alutar taught Sarac the spell that called forth the Darkness. By infusing himself into the Darkness, Alutar is not really in the Universe that we thought he was. Oh, his shell of a body may indeed be there, but a body means little to the Great Demon. I would not doubt for a moment that Alutar has been helping young Arik in some way. His goal, you see, is for Sarac to die. For when the seventh gem is fitted to the Sword of Heavens, Alutar is free at last.”

  “But that would be catastrophic,” gasped Fredrik. “He surely has greater powers than the Dark One.”

  “By many magnitudes,” declared Mustar.

  “How can we rid the world of Sarac then?” asked Niki who had finished her chore and had listened silently to the exchange between Mustar and Fredrik.

  “There is no need to kill Sarac,” proposed Mustar. “We let King Arik restore six of the seven gems. We let the armies of King Arik destroy Sarac’s creatures. All you have left is a mad magician held captive in a prison castle. Alutar cannot be formed until the seventh gem is restored, and it never will be restored. Do you understand now?”

  “And what if King Arik is intent on restoring the seventh gem?” questioned Fredrik.

  “He cannot be allowed to succeed,” stated Mustar. “Your job, Fredrik, is to ensure that he understands that.”

  “My job?” asked Fredrik. “Why would he listen to me?”

  “Because his life depends upon believing you,” replied Mustar. “The Mage will never let him succeed in his quest. Surely you can see that now?”

  “If what you say is true,” agreed Fredrik, “but I find it hard to believe that Master Khatama would ever hurt Arik.”

  “His responsibilities are to the world,” cautioned Mustar. �
�While it would pain him to destroy Arik, believe me that no power in the world could stop him. Do you know the transportation spell?”

  “I have not learned it yet,” answered Fredrik.

  “Then you shall learn it now,” Mustar declared as he rose. “You are to go to Tagaret and inform Arik of the Mage’s demands.”

  “Shouldn’t he wait until morning?” interrupted Niki as she thought of Fredrik being away from her. “Shouldn’t Master Khatama give the instructions to Fredrik?”

  “You could wait for morning,” Mustar nodded to Fredrik, “but there is no guarantee that Egam will want you to inform Arik. He may suspect that Arik can be stopped without his knowing why. I, however, see no harm in King Arik knowing exactly why he must not succeed. He still has an essential part to play in the Ancient Prophecy, but his efforts should be directed at destroying Sarac’s minions instead of Sarac himself. That is, after all, what will make this world a more hospitable place.”

  “Would Master Khatama really destroy Arik?” asked Fredrik. “I cannot fathom that he could ever do that.”

  “Truthfully,” Mustar sighed, “I do not know. He might be able to thwart Arik’s plans without harming the lad. Perhaps he could protect the seventh stone in a way that makes it impossible for Arik to obtain it. It is not something that we have discussed. Wouldn’t it be easier for everyone if Arik knew what was going on and agreed to the limitations? The Mage is not known for taking life casually, but there have been times when lives were taken for the good of all. When the Mage battled Alutar in Sagina, hundreds of elves were called upon to spend their lives in Egam’s defense. It did not bring joy to his heart to ask that of the elves, but it was necessary. It will be no different this time.”

  “You should wait for Boris to get up in the morning,” pressured Niki.

  Fredrik stared at Niki and then at Mustar. “No,” he finally said. “Mustar is correct that Master Khatama may not let me go. I am sure that he does not wish to contemplate Arik’s downfall until there is no other choice. Perhaps he feels that he can achieve his goal another way, but maybe that other way will fail. Arik needs to be informed. The chance of Alutar returning is too dangerous for us to worry about offending people. Teach me the transportation spell, Master Mustar.”

  Chapter 2

  Dragon Prophecy

  The soldier halted and dismounted just shy of the summit of the hill. He tied his horse to a withering old tree and looked back down the trail at the mercenary captain following him. The soldier signaled with his hands for the mercenary to dismount. Captain Orteka of the Kadin Claws Mercenary Company nodded and silently dismounted. He tied his horse securely and walked up the steep trail to stand before General Mobami’s soldier.

  “Is this the hill you talked about?” asked Captain Orteka.

  “It is,” nodded Fardez. “I grew up in the valley below. We will be able to see for leagues in all directions from here. We will also stand out if anyone is looking for observers. It is best if we crawl the rest of the way up.”

  “Lead the way,” nodded Orteka as he dropped to his hands and knees.

  Fardez crawled up the steep slope until he reached the summit. He scooted over to make room for the mercenary captain that General Mobami had asked to scout out the approaching Lanoirian army. Captain Orteka moved next to Fardez and stared into the valley below. His eyes grew large as he gazed down upon thousands of horsemen. He held his breath as he watched the army ride slowly into the valley like a flooding river.

  “General Mobami was expecting foot soldiers,” Captain Orteka said softly. “Lanoirian cavalry will spoil the reception we had planned for Emperor Hanchi.”

  “What reception?” asked the local soldier.

  “We had planned to harass the Lanoirians with our own cavalry as they approached Trekum,” explained the mercenary captain. “Foot soldiers would not be able to respond swiftly enough. We could have inflicted some serious damage before the Lanoirians ever got to the walls of the city.”

  “But they are all mounted,” frowned Fardez. “Won’t they chase your riders?”

  “They certainly would,” nodded Captain Orteka. “General Mobami was wise to ask me to observe the Lanoirians before we sprung our trap. Look at that army below. They have more riders than we have soldiers. Our trap would have been suicide.”

  “Why are they riding so slow?” asked Fardez as the thick black river of riders spread out into the valley below. “They do not appear to be in any hurry to get to Trekum.”

  “A very good question,” frowned the Kadin Claw. “They must be pacing something that travels much slower. Perhaps the Emperor does not like being left behind. We must wait to find out. Whatever they wait for, their horses will not be beneficial in attacking the walls of Trekum.”

  “What if we could kill the emperor?” asked Fardez. “Wouldn’t that stop the Lanoirian army?”

  “It might,” shrugged Captain Orteka, “or it might not. It would depend upon who is second in command and whether or not the men would follow him. I would love to see the emperor unguarded at the rear of this column. That would make it an easy decision to try it.”

  The two Sordoans watched for over an hour as the Lanoirian cavalry rode slowly into the valley below. Suddenly Fardez tapped urgently on Captain Orteka’s arm and pointed towards the mouth of the valley.

  “Foot soldiers,” Fardez sighed. “They must have not had enough horses for all the men.”

  “Perhaps,” frowned Captain Orteka. “Or it could be worse than that. No military leader would slow his army down for the lack of a few horses. The stragglers would be left behind. Unless…”

  “Unless what?” Fardez asked nervously.

  “Unless the foot soldiers are not stragglers,” Captain Orteka shook his head slowly.

  “What else could they be?” quizzed Fardez.

  “They could be the bulk of Emperor Hanchi’s army,” sighed Captain Orteka. “If that is the case, Trekum’s defense will be short-lived.”

  Fardez frowned and stared at the mouth of the valley looking for the end of the column.

  “I am going to catch some sleep,” declared Captain Orteka. “Wake me in a couple of hours or if something appears that I should see. When you wake me, you can rest for a while, and I will keep watch.”

  Fardez nodded soundlessly, and Captain Orteka placed his head on his outstretched arms and drifted off to sleep. Three hours later, Fardez tapped Captain Orteka’s arm lightly. The Kadin Claw mercenary woke immediately.

  “I think Emperor Hanchi just entered the valley,” whispered the soldier. “See the coach at the far end of the valley? It is surrounded by riders and men wearing different uniforms.”

  Captain Orteka nodded as he focused his eyes on the procession. He bit his lip gently as he saw the valley filled with Lanoirians. His mind spun as he tried to estimate the number of soldiers in the valley below. What had been a river of soldiers earlier had turned into a spring flood whose banks swelled to fill the entire valley. Still the Lanoirians slowly continued to surge into the already-full valley. He narrowed his gaze to the ornate coach and its escort. His eyes continued panning past the coach to the mouth of the valley. The steady stream of Lanoirian foot soldiers continued to pour into the valley.

  “This is much worse than I could have imagined,” sighed Captain Orteka. “General Mobami will not be pleased with this report.”

  “There are as many foot soldiers as cavalry,” nodded Fardez.

  “I suspect that we have only seen half of the foot soldiers,” retorted Captain Orteka. “I think the emperor is riding in the middle of his army. We will have to wait to find out for sure. Catch some sleep while you can. I will keep watch for the next couple of hours.”

  “After a short walk in the woods,” nodded Fardez. “I will be right back.”

  Captain Orteka nodded knowingly and returned his attention to the Lanoirian army below. The mercenary had heard the reports of a hundred-thousand man army, but he had not believed them. The numbe
r had been too large to be believable before. Now he wondered if that estimate was large enough.

  “Captain,” Fardez called urgently. “Come.”

  The Kadin Claw captain frowned as he crawled into the trees. It was impossible for anyone in the valley to hear them, but they had whispered anyway. Fardez’s urgent call must be important for him to call loudly. The captain crawled into the trees and rose. Fardez called again, and Orteka homed in on the sound of his voice.

  “What is the matter?” Captain Orteka asked as he approached the soldier.

  “You were watching the Lanoirian army that sacked Partek,” Fardez stated nervously. “Another Lanoirian army attacked Gortha. Twenty paces to the west of us the trees stop. Go there and look.”

  Captain Orteka stared at the soldier with a puzzled frown. When he realized that Fardez was not going to say anything more, the captain turned and headed westward through the trees. After a dozen paces, Orteka could see the edge of the hill where the trees stopped. He dropped to his knees and crawled forward. When he reached the edge of the hill, he stared down in disbelief. Below him was a wide valley full of Lanoirian soldiers. His eyes quickly panned over the valley looking for the emperor’s coach. Thinking that he was somehow looking into the same valley that he had been observing for hours, he was surprised that he could not find the coach. Fardez crawled up alongside him.

  “It is not the same army, Captain,” whispered Fardez. “Note the Toulane River running through this valley. That river comes from Gortha. One of the reasons the Lanoirians were going so slowly is that they are meeting up here for the attack on Trekum.”

  “This is impossible,” Captain Orteka said while shaking his head. “There is no chance of Trekum surviving this onslaught. We won’t even last a day. Nothing can stand in the way of these two armies.”

  “There is little choice in the matter,” reasoned the soldier. “Emperor Hanchi is not going to stop at Trekum. Where else can we make our stand?”