Brea lifted her chin. She felt better, a little better. He was right: nothing she could do would change anything, not now, and if it could not harm her… Best to get it over with. “I’m ready,” she said, nodding in agreement with herself.
Bausamon threw his head back and laughed. “Not so fast, young lady, there are things I must tell you first.”
Brea sat back in the chair, folded her arms, and tried to concentrate. Absently, she realised what she was doing: sitting in an imaginary chair, on a make-believe hill, surrounded by mist that wasn’t really there, talking to the ghost of a dragon – she had to laugh, too.
“Are you well, child?” Bausamon asked. Brea nodded and told him she was fine, while biting her lip against more laughter. The White Dragon twitched an eyebrow. He didn’t look so sure. “Very well,” Bausamon said. “There are only three rules: do not attack anyone you meet while in the cave, not even in your own defence; if someone tells you to do something – tells you, by calling your name – you must do it without hesitation, regardless of what it may be.” Bausamon drew a long breath. His expression turned to stone. “Finally, when you see the door, you must go through it.”
“Door? What door?”
“You will know when you see it. It could be anything, but you will know. It won’t… fit with the surroundings. You must use it. If you don’t, part of you could be stuck in there forever.”
Brea pursed her lips. Part of me stuck in there. The thought of losing herself inside the cave made her stomach swim. I thought he said nothing in there could harm me? Nervously, she looked up at Bausamon. “So… do as I’m told, and leave through the door. That’s sounds easy enough.”
“It is not easy, child!” Bausamon roared.
Brea covered her ears and closed her eyes. She had never heard such a noise. It grated inside her mind, left her ears ringing and her vision peppered with white flecks. If he was trying to calm her down, he had a strange way of going about it. Slowly, she raised her head. Bausamon was breathing heavily, staring at her. For a moment, she thought he was going to shout again. His shoulders dropped and he sighed.
“You didn’t have to shout,” she told him. “I understood what you said. I’m just nervous.”
“I’m sorry, Brea. I did not mean to frighten you.” Closing his eyes, the dragon appeared deep in thought; upset, maybe. “No, child, it is not easy, and not in the least because you will forget my instructions once you are inside. You will have a sense of what you must do; it will be as if something is pulling you along. That is how you will be judged: will your heart keep you on the right path? You will succeed if you remain true to yourself.”
Brea slowly turned her head towards the cave. The entrance was dark, darker than night; and silky, as though the threshold was a curtain of black oil. It looked evil. Nothing reflected on the surface and there was no depth to it, either. Yet, looking at the black… whatever it was, she felt as if she were staring into a whole new world.
Her heart thumped in her ears as she stood and took the first furtive step towards the cave. “Will you be here when I get out?” she asked Bausamon.
Another step.
“No.” The White Dragon’s voice was smooth again, gentle and reassuring. “Whatever happens, you will wake up at home. But I will see you again; you will succeed, and we will have many talks, you and I. I’m looking forward to showing you my home.”
“I thought I—”
Another step.
“You will be an Oracle, Brea, at one with all four Powers. You will be able to come to Arenthenia whenever you have the need. Or you can just visit, if you want.”
Brea nodded. A few more steps and she was standing right outside the cave, looking into nothing, and everything. She could hear a hum coming from within, a low constant drone that reminded her of a distant waterfall. “I’d like that, Bausamon. I’m sure your home is beautiful.”
Another step.
“Remember the door, Brea. If nothing else, remember the door.”
Another step…
* * *
“Solto came by. You know, the Emissary’s new secretary. Strange little man, reminds me of a bird; that big nose, and always tilting his head when he— Brea? Brea! Are you all right, my love? You look…”
Brea turned her head from the skirt she was stitching. Gialyn was standing in the doorway to what looked like a kitchen. She looked from Gialyn – her husband – to the skirt – her daughter’s – and back again.
Remember the door.
The voice came from everywhere. Soft, like a whisper, but as loud as church bells to her ears. It did not seem the slightest bit odd. The moment passed, and she wondered what made her think of such silliness. Gialyn was her husband – her handsome, hardworking husband – and Annalicia was her daughter – her gorgeous, clever little girl, who was about to start her first day at school. Gialyn had been out in the orchard with his father, Daric, planting the new peach trees. Mairi was baking, and Annalicia was playing in front of the barn. Brea could hear the laughter through the open window.
She jumped to her feet and skipped to the window. She sighed with relief at the sight of her daughter playing with Elspeth’s boy, Keanan. She shouldn’t be out playing before breakfast, she should be doing her chores, but Annalicia was a little scared of going to school for the first time. And so was Keanan, so they – Brea and Elspeth – had decided they could play, just for a little while. Elspeth would be over to fetch Keanan soon.
“What did he want?” Brea asked. She sat back down in the cushioned, high-backed chair and resumed her sewing. She chuckled at the patterned skirt; it was so small. As far as height went, Annalicia definitely took after her side of the family. “Gialyn? What did that… Solto want. Gialyn!”
“What?” Gialyn blinked. “Oh, uh, something about giants sighted north of the canyon. The messenger from Beu said a battalion of the queen’s guards were marching to investigate.” That was strange news; no one had seen a giant in three hundred years. Gialyn continued, “He said they, uh, the giants, are on their way to fight someone called ‘The Dabolis’ or ‘Deabola.’ I don’t remember. Solto seemed very excited by it, though, Gods know why.”
Diobael, Brea thought, and then wondered where the name came from. She knew who he was. Is he free? Are the Karakin free? No, not yet, not now! I can’t go back. Forcing the thought to the back of her mind, Brea found herself staring at her stitching.
“Brea, are you sure you are all right? You are doing it again, gazing off into nothing.” Gialyn took a step forward and put his hand on her shoulder. “You need not worry, love. Whatever it is, it’s a long way from here.” He smiled and tapped her shoulder.
Gialyn did not know about her past. He just thought she came from the east because of the drought. He didn’t know about the dragons, never mind Diobael and the Karakin. She liked that about him; no questions, just love.
Brea patted his hand. “I’m fine, Gialyn. Really, I’m just tired. Maybe I’ll go lie down, once Annalicia has left for school.” She smiled up at him. “Did he say anything else? Are they calling the reserves?”
“No, nothing. Well, nothing that makes any sense. He was yammering on about spirits attacking Redgate and Cul’taris.” Gialyn laughed. “Ghosts; who ever heard of such a thing?”
Remember the door
Brea heard a loud bang, as if someone had dropped a boulder on the roof. A long moment of silence filled the room before a muted scrapping sound rang throughout the house. Something was on the roof. Another long moment of silence and then a loud scream came from the yard – Annalicia’s scream.
Gialyn was already out and half way across the yard before Brea made it to the door. She stopped suddenly. A tile smashed in front of her… and then another… and then a whole pile of them fell. A moment later, half the roof slid down onto the path. Brea threw herself to the side at the same time as hearing a loud roar. Scrambling to her feet, she managed to hide behind the water barrel just before the path, and half their yard, er
upted in a blaze of dragon fire.
The dragon – a Drin, Brea knew, although she wasn’t sure how she knew – was deep red in colour, with fierce green eyes. It held on to the chimney as it searched around the yard. She knew it wasn’t a particularly large dragon, though it was more than big enough to collapse the roof.
Annalicia screamed again. By the sound of it, she and little Keanan were hiding in the barn. The dragon heard the scream, too, and took off, only to land seconds later on the barn roof. Gialyn had just gone inside. The dragon began raining fire down on the wooden building.
Mairi came to the front door. After kicking rubble away, she shouted to Brea. “Where’s Daric? Where are the children?” She looked determined. Brea felt relief when she saw the resolute stare in Mairi’s eyes, and then shame that she was glad of it. She could only point at the inferno, which was once their barn.
Brea felt dizzy. Blood trickled down her face. One of the tiles must have hit her forehead. She worked her mouth against the taste of dust and smoke as she tried to focus on her bloody hand. For two copper, she could have laid herself down where she was, and slept.
“Get up, girl, get up! Help me!” Mairi shouted, pulling hard at Brea’s sleeve. Gialyn’s mother pulled her hand back; she probably would have slapped Brea, had she not started to stand.
Brea managed to get to her feet, barely. Before she could steady herself, she felt a bucket thrust into her stomach. Mairi had already started extinguishing the flames between the house and the barn. Brea dunked the bucket in the barrel, and then spun quickly when she felt the flames fanned by a gust of wind. The dragon was hovering above them.
She ducked down, but the dragon grabbed Mairi by the shoulder. Brea jumped up and threw the bucket at the dragon. It was a pathetic attempt to save her mother-in-law, but what else could she do? A moment later, the dragon was flying over the field, holding Mairi by her neck. Gialyn’s mother’s arms and legs flayed about frantically until, halfway across the field, they suddenly went limp. The dragon dropped its wilted cargo in the middle of the field then carried on flying towards the village, every now and then spewing fire over the other farmhouses. Mairi dropped like a ragdoll, a good fifty spans down into the middle of the orchard. If she wasn’t dead before, she was now.
Brea stared at the point where Mairi would have landed. Her mind blank, she gawped like a floundering fish, until another scream brought her around, this time from her right, not the barn.
Elspeth ran into the yard. “Where’s Keanan?! Brea, where is Keanan?”
Again, Brea could do nothing but point. Elspeth ran towards the barn, but stopped a good three paces from it, her hands covering her face, guarding her against the heat. Elspeth screamed Keanan’s name as she ran back and forth, looking for a way into the burning building.
Brea ran to join her, but didn’t get half way before a Kel’madden Trooper grabbed Elspeth. The tall soldier dragged her into the middle of the yard, Elspeth spitting, kicking and cursing all the way.
Dazed, Brea wondered where the Trooper had come from. He wasn’t supposed to be there. If the Kel’madden had invaded, they would have heard about it weeks ago. The northern Geddy would be the last place they would attack; there was nothing here but a few villages and farms.
The Trooper had Elspeth by the hair, pulling her around, probably trying for a clean stab with his thin shortsword. Eventually, Elspeth ended up on her knees facing the barn. The Kel’madden raised his sword.
Brea picked up the hand scythe and shouted, “No!” The Kel’madden looked up. Brea drew back the scythe, and was about to attack…
Attack no one, not even in self-defence.
Again, the voice was clear. Brea’s arm tensed. One swing of the scythe and she could likely save Elspeth. So why didn’t she do it? What was she waiting for? Her gut said yes, but her mind said no. Somehow, she knew saving Elspeth would kill her. Letting her die will save her… Am I going mad? Staring into Elspeth’s eyes, Brea slowly lowered the scythe.
“Brea, no! Help me!”
The Kel’madden smiled. Then, pulling Elspeth’s head back, he buried his shortsword in her neck, pushing at an angle that would have pierced her heart.
Brea stared, as Elspeth’s limp body dropped face-first onto the dirt. Doubt flashed through her mind; what if she was wrong? Where did that voice come from?
The Trooper was gone. Brea gazed left and right, there was no sign of anyone. Squinting, she looked towards the village. The dragon was gone, too, but the fire still raged behind her, and Elspeth was still dead.
Taking a step towards the body, Brea heard Annalicia’s scream, and Gialyn shouting, “Help us.” Turning, she couldn’t control a feeling that nothing she did would save them. The barn looked ready to collapse.
Panicked at the sound of her daughter’s screams, Brea grabbed the rope that was hanging on the corral fence and tied it to the scythe. She threw the hooked scythe over the door handle, then quickly ran and tied the other end around Pepa’s neck. Slapping the horse, she watched as the barn doors disintegrated into a pile of burning rubble.
Brea blinked. In its place was a door, a silver door, with a strange angled frame and a watery surface that rippled in the wind.
Go through the door, Brea.
The voice sounded calm, same as before. “No, I have to help them. I can’t leave, I have to....” She didn’t understand her own words. Of course, she had to help. Leave? How could she leave?
“Help us! Please, someone… Father, help us!” It was Gialyn’s voice again. Brea could hear him trying to calm Annalicia and Keanan. Even there, facing death, he was more concerned over the children. It broke Brea’s heart.
Remember the door.
“No, I can’t leave. I—”
There was a loud crash. The barn roof collapsed. Brea looked beyond the silver door. She could still hear Gialyn’s cries, Annalicia’s screams and Keanan’s sobbing. She was crying, too, she noticed. Tears streamed down her face. Something told her she would never save them, no matter what she tried. Fixing her eyes on the door, she took a slow step forward, all the while trying not to look at what remained of the barn, or listen to the sounds of her family dying. Forward again, and then another step. Eyes closed now, she lunged at the door’s watery surface and felt a cold wave flow over her.
All was silent, and for a moment, there was nothing, no sound, no smell, no touch. She fell to her knees onto a hard, smooth surface. She was on the road again, but this time, there was no mist.
* * *
Slowly, an understanding of what had really happened dawned on Brea. But knowing it was a vision didn’t make it any less painful. The shame of leaving her “family” to die burned hot in her chest. Would she really have done that? Her head spun at the thought as she knelt on her hands and knees on the smooth white road. She stared at the ground for what felt like an hour before finally raising her head.
Understanding her surroundings took a while, too. The road was… wrong somehow. The sky was its normal shade of blue, normal for her world, that was. A few clouds were dotted about, and the sun was tipping towards what must be the western horizon – unless, of course, it was morning in this world; in which case, that way was east. It was still pleasantly warm, and Brea could hear birds singing. Still, something wasn’t right, and then she realised: there were no people. Crowded on either side of the road was an odd selection of buildings; none appeared to belong there. But so numerous were the building, that there must be some people, somewhere.
Adding to that, the road was too clean, and not a bit road-like: it could have been made of fine porcelain, or seamless white marble. The last time she was there, walls of mist enclosed the on both sides, and the surface was filthy – old looking. Now, the road appeared as if laid yesterday. Brea knew she was in the same place, though. How she knew was another matter entirely.
Brea was surprised to find that she recognized some of those mismatched buildings crowding the roadside. For instance; a large gate to her right led t
o the Juno Penarch’s palace in Bailryn – she was even more surprised that she knew it was the Juno Penarch’s palace, and that the Penarchs ruled Aleras’moya before the present line of kings, back when folk called Bailryn by another name: Alaemora. To her left was the town hall in Beugeddy, as it was three hundred years ago, at the time of the Ulroch War. Next door, stood the town hall as it was today. Brea knew all she need do was enter that building to learn everything that was happening in Beugeddy. She couldn’t help but smile. “So this is what they mean by the Knowledge of Ages.”
Her voice echoed, and Brea spun around, suddenly fearful that someone might hear. But nobody was there.
“I wonder if Vila’slae can come here, too.” She whispered this time. The thought made her check over her shoulder. It was unnerving, being the only person on what seemed to be an endless white road. No, the powers must have banned Vila’slae from entering, surely. Bausamon had said the road was really a gate against unwanted visitors, and if anyone was unwanted… She hoped she was right; how could they fight an enemy that knew all their plans?
A thought occurred to her; what was Vila’slae doing now?
Mid-step, the world around Brea blurred. Her stomach felt like she was falling. When it stopped, she found herself further along the road – or maybe further back down it. Either way, she was standing adjacent to a tent. Brea could see Vila’slae inside – though she looked foggy, transparent, almost – standing behind a table with three of her Kel’madden stood opposite. Brea took a step forward and immediately felt a wave of nausea. Turning quickly, she barely held off the vomit as she scurried away from the tent. Leaning against a barrel, Brea took a few deep breaths. So, I can’t spy on Vila. I’ll have to ask Bausamon about that. Maybe I can—
Before she could finish the thought, the world blurred again. Brea found herself outside an old farmhouse. She recognised the valley, and the village, though it had changed somewhat over what must have been a hundred years. She was home.
The Dragon Oracles: Omnibus Edition (The Eastern Kingdom Omnibus Book 1) Page 88