“If you move, you die. That goes for the dragon, too,” a voice shouted.
“Is that …?”
“The Kel’madden,” Olam said, interrupting Gialyn, who was still squinting, his hand shading his eyes.
“How did they get ahead of us?” Olg asked.
“Does it matter now?” Lud replied.
“Enough, you two,” Bre’ach said. “Can we get back into the cave?”
As Bre’ach spoke, Gialyn heard a strange noise – strange, yet familiar. The shadow of a dragon filled the small bowl. Its wings flapped faster the lower it came. The Kel’madden split left and right to make room for the beast. It landed, somewhat roughly, on the low ridge.
“Well, so much for running,” Fran muttered.
The beast folded its wings, and Gialyn heard another voice.
“Which one of you destroyed the Shard?” the woman riding on the back of the dragon said. Unsurprisingly, the she sounded angry.
Gialyn saw Elspeth about to take a step forward. But before she could open her mouth…
“It was me,” he shouted, just as Olg shouted the exact same thing. Elspeth creased her brow at him. He waved her back.
She shook her head.
“Please, Elspeth,” he whispered.
With a look of reluctance, she took a step back.
“Don’t play games,” the woman shouted. “I’ll ask you one more time. Who destroyed the shard?”
Lud dropped his bow and ran forward. Hands on head, he bellowed over and over, “It wasn’t me, it wasn’t me.”
Olg scoffed. And Fran rolled his eyes. “Fool.”
Lud knelt on the ground ten paces in front of the dragon.
“If it was not you, then who?” the woman asked him.
“I don’t know. Swear to the gods, I don’t know. I was in the tunnel when it happened.”
The woman nodded, and a soldier fired an arrow at Lud. The old Salrian grunted as the force of the arrow drove him back so he was lying flat on the ground. He twitched for a moment and then lay still.
Gialyn stared at the dead poacher. Standing, as he was, out in the open, he suddenly felt very vulnerable. The others were moving about, probably readying themselves to run or fight. Why does she care who destroyed the Shard?
Elspeth raised her hands. “It was me, Ma’am, I destroyed your precious rock.” She took a step forward.
“Elspeth, no!”
“Keep your voice down,” Elspeth whispered as she passed Gialyn. “It’s the only way. Don’t do anything foolish; I’m counting on you to come rescue me again.” Gialyn thought he saw her smile. And then, without waiting for his answer, Elspeth turned to the woman – he was sure it was the witch, but who could tell with this lot? There could be more than one. “I will come peacefully if you spare my friends,” Elspeth shouted up to the witch.
A long moment passed. The witch was whispering to one of her men. She sat straight on the back of her dragon, while another – a man, Gialyn thought; he wore a hood, and was not wearing a uniform – climbed down from what looked like a carriage strapped to the back of the beast. “Very well, Elspeth. Come up here and I’ll let your friends go.”
Arfael, Olam and Bre’ach each turned to look at Elspeth as she walked between them. “She found the scroll,” Elspeth said. “That fool Cren put my name on it.”
“Never mind that,” Gialyn told her. “You don’t have to go.”
“Yes she does,” Arfael said.
“What are you saying? I can’t…? Why?” Gialyn wanted to punch the man. Strange mythical beast or not, he wanted to break his nose.
“We must get that dragon out of here if we are to have any chance,” Arfael whispered. “She will leave, once she has her prisoner.”
“And how do you know that?” Gialyn asked.
“Because Elspeth is too valuable to risk.”
“You’re not making any sense.”
“The witch needs her. She destroyed the Shard; she can’t make another without Elspeth.”
Arfael stared at Elspeth as she walked past him. “Don’t worry, little one; I’ll come rescue you.”
Of all things, Elspeth smiled.
Ealian stepped forward “You can’t be serious! We only just rescued her from that witch, now you want to give her back.”
“Ealian, please, there’s no time.” Arfael reached for Ealian’s shoulder, but Elspeth’s brother took a step back.
“No, I’d rather fight and die than lose her again.”
“Don’t be silly, Ealian,” Elspeth said, whispering over her shoulder as she slowly walked towards the dragon. “I want to live, and you must live if you are going to save me. Do what Arfael says, please.”
Before Ealian could answer, Elspeth turned to face the witch and began to walk faster. She shot a brief glance at Lud’s dead body, then climbed the shallow ridge. The dragon bared its teeth at her, and Elspeth flinched, but the man who had climbed down from the beast grabbed her by the arm and pulled her to the short ladder.
“Here, Trapper; come, boy,” The witch shouted. For a wonder, the dog refused to move. He parked himself between Rek’s front legs and lay down. “Trapper, here!” The dog whimpered and backed up a little. The witch waved dismissively. “Stay then, stupid mutt.”
With that, the witch checked Elspeth was on board, then reined her dragon hard to the right. The beast stood and clumsily climbed to the highest point of the ridge. Its back to Gialyn, the beast stretched out its wings and jumped. The dragon vanished beyond the rim. But a second later, Gialyn watched as the dragon rose up along the cliff face. Another few moments and it disappeared over the cliff. It was gone. Elspeth was gone.
Once the dragon had vanished out of the sight, the two dozen and more Kel’madden began to move in on the bowl of rocks.
“I knew they wouldn’t let us go. I knew it.” Gialyn growled through clenched teeth. “We let her go for nothing. How could you be so stupid?” he said, staring at Arfael.
A cry came from among the Kel’madden. Then another. Three Troopers tumbled down the rock face. It took Gialyn a second to realise what was happening: someone was attacking the Troopers.
“Get down,” Arfael shouted, pulling Gialyn behind a boulder.
“Where’s my bow?” Olg asked, scrambling through the piles of waterskins, pots and lanterns strewn along the ground.
“Here,” Fran told him, handing the old man his bow.
“Can we find some help, Alacin?” Olam said.
“It’s not Alacin, it’s me,” Ealian said. “And no, he can’t help; I am going to kill them myself.”
“Ealian, don’t be a fool, this is no time for—”
Olam pointed up to the ridge. Two men – two very tall men – were running along it, slashing and stabbing at the Kel’madden.
“Is that…? No, it can’t be Cal,” Gialyn said.
“No it is not, but they are Cren, and I suggest we help them.” Olam dug his hands into the ground and began chanting.
Ealian pulled Elspeth’s bow from the pile and nocked an arrow. He fired, and missed. But that didn’t stop him. He nocked another, and once again, he missed.
“Take your time, Ealian. You’re just wasting arrows,” Olg told him. Ealian didn’t look as if he cared.
The Kel’madden were rallying. With the shock of the Cren attack gone, the Troopers formed up in ranks, taking cover and organising their fire. The Cren Woodsmen were pinned down, but they had killed at least six by Gialyn’s reckoning.
Gialyn felt the earth shudder. He turned to Olam, but it wasn’t the old man who had caused the rumble. Olam was staring at Arfael, who, somehow, had his arms elbow-deep inside the boulder behind which they were hiding.
Gialyn watched as scales sprouted like goose bumps over Arfael’s body. The big man – bigger now, even larger than the old Arfael – knelt beside him, groaning as the scales circled his body. Teeth sprouted from where the gaps had been, and talons as long as Gialyn’s thumb pushed out of the man’s fingers. It onl
y took a few seconds, and when it was finished, Arfael – if it was still Arfael – smiled at Gialyn before launching himself towards the rock face.
Gialyn heard shouting and screaming and calls of “Retreat! Retreat!” He couldn’t see Arfael, but the Cren were back on the attack. With Arfael taking the Kel’madden’s attention, they were free to resume their own assault. Gialyn wondered if he and the others were even needed. Olam certainly didn’t think so. Or so it seemed; the older man sat with arms folded above his knees, watching.
Fran ran past. “I’m not just sitting here,” he said.
Olg followed. Bre’ach grabbed up his sword and moved toward the ridge. Gialyn wasn’t about to sit and watch, either; but when he tried to stand, Olam grabbed his elbow. “Leave them to it, Gialyn. The Troopers will be dead before Bre’ach reaches them.”
He was right. Fran had barely climbed two paces when the sound of screaming suddenly stopped. Gialyn stood and leaned against the boulder, expecting to see Arfael, or rather, the beast. But it was the new Arfael who began to make his way down into the hollow, followed by the two Cren.
“Ah, it’s Caylib, I believe,” Olam said, nodding at the three men.
“Who? Who is Caylib?”
“One of Cal’s friends. Come; it’s safe now; let’s go say hello.”
“‘Hello’? Elspeth is taken prisoner and you want to catch up!”
“Now, now, Gialyn; a calm head will save the day. The odds of rescuing Elspeth have just risen tremendously.”
Olam stood and made his way through the rocks and boulders towards the Cren. He bowed to Caylib and made straight for Arfael. Gialyn followed.
“Are you well, friend?” Olam asked.
“Oh, yes,” Arfael said. “It’s much easier. And my teeth were already missing, so…”
Olam grinned and patted Arfael on the shoulder. “It’s a pity they will grow back, then.” He laughed. “Do you feel well? You know, apart from the usual?”
“All is well, Olam, really. I’m back to my old self.”
For a moment, Gialyn thought Olam looked disappointed. But only for a moment. Before long, the older man was greeting the two Cren, one of whom was even bigger than Cal.
“Is that him?” the tall Cren asked, pointing at Bre’ach.
“Yes, but things have changed, my friend; he is with us now,” Olam replied
The tall Cren just nodded.
“What do you mean ‘him’? Why was he pointing at me?” Bre’ach asked Olam.
“It is nothing, Bre’ach. Caylib was sent to find you and recover the map. That is all. Seems you got away from him, though.”
Of all things, Bre’ach looked embarrassed. Perhaps he realised all this could have been avoided if the Cren had found him.
But that was hardly important, not now. “What are we going to do about Elspeth?” Gialyn asked, or rather… demanded.
Arfael took a deep breath. “First of all, we need to go back to Braylair.”
Brea raised an eyebrow and Rek growled. Where have they been hiding? “Why do you need to go there?” Brea asked.
Gialyn didn’t understand her question; it seemed to him that Braylair was the obvious place to go. But maybe she knew something he did not.
Arfael turned to her. “We need to go back to Braylair because I need a ride, Brea.”
“A ride?” Brea repeated. “Where are you going? We must save Elspeth.”
Gialyn was surprised to hear Brea sounding so determined; she’d only met Elspeth a few hours ago. He thought he would be the one arguing to go back through the Tunnels
“Elspeth won’t be there,” Arfael said. “At least not for long. Vila’slae will take her home, back to the Easter Isles, back to Eiras. She needs to forge another Shard, and Elspeth is the key.” Arfael began to gather his things. “Quickly now, we haven’t got long; she will already have a six-hour head start.”
Everyone looked at Arfael, even the Cren. Gialyn raised his hands and pulled his head to his chest. His mind spun; everything was moving too quickly. “What do you mean ‘Elspeth is the key’? The key to what?”
Arfael glanced up at him and then continued packing. “As I said; Elspeth destroyed the Shard. Vila’slae will need her to make another.”
“And how do you know this?” Olam asked him. For once, the older man looked more puzzled than Gialyn.
“Because I was there the last time she made one.”
“You were there? How?”
Arfael sighed. “Olam, no questions. Gather your things. Time is not on our side. We must go to Braylair. I must ask one of the dragons to carry me to Eiras. I will kill the witch and bring Elspeth back.”
“Then I’m coming with you,” Gialyn said, without really thinking. Climbing on a dragon, flying to the Eastern Isles, into the island of witches: better not to think about it.
“You can’t,” Arfael said. “Tor will need all the dragons here; he won’t spare one for the likes of you. I’m sorry, Gialyn, but only Brea and I will go.”
“Me? why am I going?” Brea pointed at herself and Rek grumbled.
Arfael was about to answer, but Gialyn interrupted. “I’m going, Arfael. I don’t care if you have to tie me to the dragon’s tail; I am going.”
A surge of jealously burned inside of Gialyn’s chest. What did he mean by “the likes of you”? Did he just want to be the one to save her?
Arfael smiled. For a long moment, he stared at Gialyn. “You may be of some use; we’ll see which dragon Tor can spare. If Ribion can take us, all three of us can fly; perhaps one of the Raic, too.” He looked at Olam.
“Yes, I would like to go with you, my friend.”
“She’s my sister! If any Raic is going, it will be me, uh… me and Alacin,” Ealian said. His eyes were fixed on Arfael.
“Perhaps that would be best,” Olam said. “You may have more use for Alacin than I. He is more powerful.”
Arfael growled. “You, Alacin, Brea, Gialyn, the Miller’s wife; can we discuss this while we walk? Did you not hear me? She will already have six hours’ head start, and that is if Tor doesn’t take a day to decide to help.”
“I’m sorry, Arfael, but I’m not going,” Brea said. She didn’t look at him. Instead, she stared at the floor. “There is something I must do, and it will take a day at least.”
Arfael grunted, he didn’t answer.
What could Brea have to do that was more important than rescuing Elspeth? Gialyn gave her a look. Her cheeks reddened.
“I’m sorry, Gialyn, but I don’t think I…The dragon told me…”
“‘The dragon told you’? The dragons told you what? Oh never mind, I don’t want to know. Let’s just get moving. Like Arfael said, the witch has a head start.”
Gialyn picked up his waterskin and slung one of the pots under his arm. With Elspeth’s bow over his shoulder, he marched after Arfael. Elspeth was gone; Arfael had changed; a meeting with dragons lay before him; and his father was off to war, if not already fighting one. He wondered when it would all end and he could go home. Soon, he hoped, but not today.
CHAPTER 33
Over the Edge
“Nine days, Aleban. Nine days, and not as much as a paw print.” Sarai dropped her pack by the bedrolls. This was the fifth camp they had made, and the third time today that she had been out scouting.
Scouting? Ha! Searching for Darkin! I must be mad!
“It’s nine days from Illeas; only six in the forest,” Aleban told her.
The foolish wolf was pacing round, bedding himself down for the night already. How long did he plan to keep this up?
“Nine… six… what difference does it make?” Sarai said. “They are not here, Aleban. They probably haven’t been here for decades. For all we know, they could be beyond Eurmac and on the Southern Islands. Gods, they might even have gone north. It’s been sixty years since anyone reliable has spoken of them; we would have heard something if they were still in Crenach.”
Sarai sat down hard on her bedroll. She was tire
d, her feet hurt, and it was nearly dark. “I’m getting too old for this,” she whispered.
Kalina lay down on the bedroll beside her. She didn’t look any better, and she was barely eighteen. The Barman’s daughter had found every animal imaginable – Aleban was right about that, at least; she was an excellent tracker – but had not found any sign of wolves, not even Wildlings. Sarai knew she was ready to go home, too. In fact, Kalina didn’t want to come in the first place – sensible girl.
Arlec was bent over the fire making tea as Sarai lay her head down. Ten minutes rest would do her good. Not as good as if Aleban said they could go home in the morning, but better than nothing. She was glad Arlec was there; at least she wasn’t expected to do all the cooking, too. Not that the man was a good cook, but who cared? It was mostly cold meat and a few boiled veg. Even a man could get that right.
She watched the fireflies dancing against the tree line. The evening was cool and the forest peaceful. The sound of the waterfall, twenty paces south, soothed her mind. She always did like the sound of rushing water. The forest was a stunning place, no doubt of that; idyllic glades, bubbling streams, beautiful flowers, and barely a boar or fox to be seen. No deer, either. That made her think; there were no large animals of any kind. At least not in this part of the forest. That was strange. But then the animals that were there were big: the frogs were the size of small dogs, squirrels were as big as cats, and gods alone knew what that thing was they saw yesterday: all flat feet and big eyes.
Even the fireflies were the size of bumblebees. She watched as they danced amongst the leaves. All greens and reds, and those two big yellow ones in the middle. They didn’t move… but they did blink on and off. Two more appeared to the right… and more to the left.
“Uh, Aleban… I think we have found them. Or rather, they have found us.”
She turned her head slowly. Aleban was standing tall, craning his neck to look up into the eyes of a huge black wolf. “I know, Sarai,” Aleban said, much calmer than she would have expected. “I know.”
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