The Dragon Oracles: Omnibus Edition (The Eastern Kingdom Omnibus Book 1)

by T. J. Garrett

  The guards were returning from their short patrol. Brea had decided what to do on her way from the other gate. She closed her eyes and reached out with the Voice. The silver curtain fell and she found what she was looking for – thousands of them, in fact. She carefully drew them to her, the buzzing of their wings humming in the still night air. She waited until there were enough, and then sent them to the guards. It wasn’t hard to fool the moths into thinking that the guards were food, she just hoped none of the insects were poisonous – she didn’t want to kill anyone.

  Opening her eyes, she watched the cloud of insects descend. The two men waved the moths away, but soon began to panic as a skin of moths landed on their clothing and tangled in their hair. As Brea had hoped, the guards ran the fifty paces to the fountain in the middle of the square. Both jumped in.

  Checking both ways, Brea skulked across the open ground between the shops and the gate. She pushed open the small door and squeezed her way through. The outer courtyard was clear, and she ran to the side of the first Sentriarch tower. Once there, she released the guards from the moths, before slowly making her way around the tower.

  There was nothing between the towers, no trees to hide behind, no building to creep around. She could only walk on steadily and hope no one would challenge her.

  She felt for the necklace under her shirt. It had been getting warmer since she entered the tower grounds. Occasionally, the blue Shard would twitch, like an iron nail pushed away by a magnet. Brea had gotten the impression that her Shard didn’t want to be there, but how she knew was beyond her. It was too late to stop now, though; she had to complete her task, and link her Arcstone with the Barrowstone. It was the only way to be sure – so Tor had said. It seemed a reasonable plan, but if the thing became much warmer, she would have to take it off.

  The centre tower was immense. It made her dizzy to look up as she walked the last few steps to the entrance. The stone appeared smooth, like fine marble. But instead of veins and striations, the surface had an undulating hue of deep blues – almost black. Brea couldn’t help but stare. The more she looked, the more she became aware that the colours were moving, like storm clouds floating across a near-dark, evening sky. The walls seemed alive.

  The door shone with the same dull blue-grey sheen as the stone. Indeed, it might well be stone; it certainly didn’t look like any wood Brea knew. She stood in front of it, looking up at where the high arch knitted into the surrounding wall. If it wasn’t for that arch, she might not have noticed there was a door. Moving to the side, her breath caught in her throat as she noticed the door was slightly ajar: someone had left it open.

  She squeezed though the gap and immediately felt her necklace heat up. Leaning forwards, she pinched the cord away from her skin. Sucking a breath through her teeth, she pulled the cord out from under her collar and let the Stone dangle outside the shirt. She could still feel the heat, but it was tolerable. What does the heat mean? She couldn’t remember Tor mentioning anything; and if it was this hot already…

  Brea found herself in a large oval hall. In front, a small arch led deeper into the tower. Left and right, she saw passageways arching along the outer walls, presumably running all the way around the tower. Brea took a deep breath. She had no idea which way to go, but it seemed more likely a stairway would be towards the outside of the building, and if Tor was right, if the Stone was underground, there must be stairs leading down. She chose left, and made her way to the hallway.

  The hall was dark and bland. There were no pictures on the walls, and no lights hanging from the ceiling. It should have been pitch black in there. Yet Brea could see the dull glow of the stone radiating from its smooth surface. Like the walls, the floor seemed to be of one piece; there were no slabs for paving. It appeared as if someone had poured the rock onto the ground. The walls met the ceiling at a sharp angle, and again, there were no joints. There certainly weren’t any joists or beams.

  As she walked, Brea passed more arches built into the wall on her right. Some led to other hallways, and some into large rooms. All the rooms were dark, though, it appeared that she was alone in the building. The way turned right, and she found herself facing a choice as the hall split in two. Again, she chose the left, and it wasn’t long before she was rewarded. A large arch showed her the stairs running below, and a ramp, of sorts, as the means with which to reach them.

  The blue pendent on her necklace was heating up, but she pressed on, trying to ignore it. If it got worse, she would just have to take it off. There was still the sense of it pulling at her… twitching if she walked one way and not another… cooling slightly if she turned away from the path ahead. It seemed to know where she was going. She should have worn a thicker shirt.

  The stairs spiralled and were very steep. The same blue glow radiated from the walls as she descended. Down she went, for what seemed like an age. Eventually, the stairs opened into a wide room. Brea walked forward a pace and immediately felt sick as if she had stood up too fast. Holding her throat, she took deep breaths and waited for the nausea to pass. It didn’t, but it did get a little better. Again, she had a choice: left or right. She chose right this time.

  As it happened, it wouldn’t have mattered which would she had chosen; they weren’t separate paths, just one path that circled a large pillar. She found herself in another room. Well, the first part was a room; the far end was a cave, as natural as any she had seen in the Karan Ridges. That must be it. The Barrowstone has to be in there. Steeling herself against another wave of nausea, she moved closer.

  If anything, the cave walls were brighter than the towers. As well as the dull glow, Brea could see flecks of colour, like light shining through a crystal. The colours were reminiscent of the Stone around her neck, which, for some reason, had suddenly gone cold. There was no doubt that this was the right place, but now where? She couldn’t see any way forward.

  “You took your time getting here. We expected you yesterday.”

  Brea felt panic surge through her as she spun around searching for the source of the voice. A woman walked out of the shadows – a thickset woman, with curly black hair and deep brown eyes. She wore a white shirt and a voluminous dark skirt. Brea noticed a necklace similar to her own at the woman’s throat.

  “Who are you?” Brea asked.

  The woman laughed. “Who am I? My dear Brea, you are the one who is trespassing.”

  She knows my name. How can she know my name?

  Apparently, whoever had warned the Circle about Vila, knew more than just the witch’s plans.

  She raised her chin and squared up to the woman. “So, you know my name. It is only polite to—”

  “Tell you mine… is that what you think, that you have a right to ask questions?” The woman smiled mockingly and began to move forward. “Very well. My name is Elucia. I am head of the Circle of Twelve. And you are Brea Loian, Oracle of the Gan. You have come here to bond the Barrowstone.” Elucia shook her head slowly. “I’m sorry, but I can’t allow you to do that.”

  “How…? Who told you?”

  “Nobody told me anything, my dear. You’re worried about Vila, and bonding puts an end to that threat, at least for a while. However, since we have Vila’slae safely locked in the vault; you have no need to bond your Shard with the Barrowstone. She is no threat.” Elucia gazed off into nothing. Sighing, she said, “Impetuous child. She could never settle, always making plans. No, she won’t worry anyone for a while. Besides, bonding the Stones might well kill you, and you are far too young and pretty for that.”

  Brea thought the woman sounded like a mother talking about a wayward daughter – two daughters; her and Vila.

  “But how did you know it would be me?”

  “We have a friend of yours, Elspeth. We thought she was you – cheeky girl, pretending to be an Oracle.” The woman tilted her head and nodded to herself. “She has some power, that one, though she doesn’t know it. Not enough to be an Oracle, but plenty to be of use.”

  Elspeth has the
Power! That explained a few things. Be of use? Be of use to who? “Still, Elspeth didn’t know I was coming, she couldn’t have.”

  There must be someone else. Whoever had warned them about Vila also knew she would be following. But who? Another witch, one living in Aleras’moya? And if so, how did she communicate? Brea often wished that the Lier’sinn could be used to talk to folk. It seemed, these witches were using something that could do just that. However they had managed it, it would be a nice trick to learn.

  “That, too, was obvious,” Elucia said. “It would take an Oracle to bond the Stones, and we have known about you for quite some time.” She straightened her skirt and turned towards the exit. “Anyway, enough of that for now. Come. It is late, and I would like some sleep tonight.”

  Brea felt the flash of panic again. If she was going to bond the Stones, it was now or never. She didn’t think the woman was a danger to her, but she couldn’t completely trust her, and then there were still the dragons to think about; she had to stop them, risk or not.

  “You could at least tell me where the Stone is,” she said, hoping her voice sounded suitably flat. “I’ve come this far, it would be a shame not to see it.”

  Elucia’s lips curled into a wry smile. “You’re standing in it, child.” She ran her hand along the wall. Flecks of light danced around her fingers, turning from yellow to red to blue.

  “Of course, how could I be so…” It was now or never. All she need do was push her pendant against the wall for a few seconds and the Stones would be bonded for months – according to Tor.

  She reached for her necklace.

  “Don’t do it, Brea.” Elucia strode towards her, but she was still a way off.

  “I’m sorry, I have to.” Pendent in hand, Brea stepped towards the wall of the cave.

  “Brea, No!”

  “I must, the dragons. I’m so—”

  Brea felt a force hit her as if a door had been slammed in her face. Then felt the cave floor against her back. Blinking, she looked around. The flecks of light began half a pace up the cave wall. If she could just… Rolling, she extended her hand…

  “Brea… No!”

  Again, the “door” hit her, harder this time. Silver speckles danced in front of her eyes and she felt a crackling at the back of her throat as if the air was being forced out of her. Darkness spread from the corner of her vision. She gasped for breath, but couldn’t draw in air. Her arm shook, and she dropped her necklace onto the dirt floor. A dizzying sickness came over her, until…

  CHAPTER 20

  False God

  Arfael sat in the temple beneath the Blue Tower, the “cave,” with those odd lights flickering on its walls, was to his right, Gialyn and Ealian seated to his left. Elspeth was there, too, sitting opposite, and looking well enough, thankfully – at any rate, much better than Brea appeared to be. The Oracle was rubbing her temples as if she had drunk too much ale the night before – served her right for running off. She had been getting above herself lately; it was only a matter of time before someone pulled her down. Oracle or not, she was still just a young girl, with a young girl’s wisdom – or lack of it. Yes, she had been to the Road, been given access to the Knowledge of Ages, but knowledge would not make her wise. He still didn’t understand why Tor had sent her. The dragon could have persuaded the girl to stay with the rest of them. Or at least come up with a plan that didn’t involve risking the child’s life! Running off alone, “bonding” Power Stones… what had they expected? Did they think the witches would stand aside and let her take control of the Barrowstone? Madness.

  Idiocy aside, it had been a strange morning all round. They had been woken before dawn by half a dozen Eiras guards – with another twenty waiting downstairs to “escort” them to the Tower. They had made a strange procession, walking through the streets, surrounded on all sides by guards, and not a one looking at him. Not that he blamed them, of course. Given his history with the Eiras, he was surprised they had not chained him up. Then again, they might not know who he was – doubtful, but more likely than letting him roam freely. And they had led him into Aregolas’s temple, of all places.

  Elucia was there, sitting opposite with three more of the Circle of Twelve by her side. He recognised her well enough; the woman had hardly changed at all. Same look, same white shirt and dark skirt, even her hairstyle was unchanged. She regarded him with those deep-set eyes while fiddling with her skirt as if waiting for something. What was she thinking? She must remember him. Frowning from his stare, she leaned over towards Brea and whispered a few words that made the Oracle glare at him. Yes, Elucia was the same, right down to the games she played. He sat patiently and watched. If the Circle had a plan, he would learn of it soon enough.

  Finally, after a long silence, Elucia said, “It’s over, Arlyn. Whatever plans you had are finished. There is nothing for you here. You should go home.” She shifted in her seat, taking in the rest of his group. Clearly, her last comment was meant for them, too.

  Elspeth looked up at him, her face reflecting worry. Her attempt to hide the expression spoke volumes – had they threatened her?

  “I’m grateful for the interest, Elucia,” Arfael said. “But my plans are my own. You of all people should remember that.”

  She must think him a fool. If she wanted him to go home, they would not be sitting this close to their precious temple.

  Elucia drummed her fingers on her lap, ignoring a hard stare from one of the other witches. “And what are your plans, Arlyn Gan’ifael? Maybe we can help you find what you need.”

  Arlyn Gan’ifael! That sealed it; she knew him, knew he was the Cinnè’arth… so why the games? Why let him sit unguarded? “Maybe I have already found what I was looking for,” he said. There seemed little point telling her that he came solely to rescue Elspeth. She would never believe that. Still, he gave Elspeth a shallow nod and a thin smile.

  Of course, they were right to think he might have another motive. They probably had a right to see him hang, after the havoc he had caused during the Toi civil war. Or maybe they laid the blame for that at Vila’s feet – it was her fault, after all. Nevertheless, he was surprised there were not a dozen arrows pointed at him.

  Elucia leaned over to the woman sitting to her left and whispered in her ear. Surani Willand – he thought it was her – was a tall woman with the dark skin of a Toyan. She had a pretty face, if she could stop scowling long enough to show it, and bright blue eyes. Surani, still glaring at him, shook her head slowly. Whatever Elucia had said, Surani didn’t agree.

  Arfael sighed. “This is ridiculous. I really did find what I came for. We” – his gesture took in Gialyn and Ealian – “came to bring Elspeth home. That is all. I have no quarrel with you, Elucia. Vila has already cost me a century of my life. I want to go home.” He could see his two companions nodding furiously, especially Gialyn.

  Elspeth smiled. A tear glistened in her eye and her bottom lip trembled, but she was staring more at Gialyn than anyone. Arfael beat down a pang of jealousy and turned back to Elucia. Doubtless, the witch would be reading every expression, looking for a weakness to use against him. He had to stay calm.

  “She has some power, this one,” Elucia said, waving an open hand in Elspeth’s direction. “Perhaps it would be better if she stayed a while. Let us teach her how to use it.”

  Arfael cursed under his breath. He fought to bury a surge of anger. If he made too much fuss.... “I’m sure we can man—”

  “I can teach her,” Ealian interrupted. “We don’t need your help.”

  Arfael rolled his eyes. If they didn’t know he was a Raic before, they did now. Elucia’s eyebrows rose as she regarded the boy, and Surani nodding at the woman sitting by her, probably an I-told-you-so gesture. Gods, do these women ever stop playing games? At this rate, they would never get out of here. And he still didn’t know what they wanted from him.

  “You look unwell, all of a sudden,” Elucia told him. “Are you ill? Would you like Breani to examine you?”
She put a hand on the shoulder of the plump woman sitting next to Brea. The round-faced woman gave him a smile that said she would like nothing more than to “examine” him.

  “I’m right as spring water, thank you,” Arfael said. “I’d be better still if you would come to the point. Why are we here? And no clever answers, Elucia. We all have places to be, people who are counting on us.”

  Surani, who had barely taken her eyes off him, nodded in what looked like appreciation. “Yes, it’s time we came to the point,” she said. Straightening her skirt, she folded her arms and turned to Elucia – so much for coming to the point.

  Elucia glared at her. “All in good time,” she said. “We must be sure. We can’t have a one-sided alli—” She spun around, feigning shock at her slip-of-the-tongue. Did she really expect him to fall for that? She would never make such a blatant mistake.

  So, they wanted an alliance. That explained a few things. Not that he expected to hear such a thing coming from Elucia, but then, she hadn’t really asked. “I’m not the man to speak on such matters,” Arfael admitted. “Maybe, Alacin...”

  Elucia’s eyes widened. “And who is Alacin? Are there more of you in the city?”

  Ealian’s shoulders sank when Arfael turned to him. The younger man shook his head and clenched his jaw. Arfael knew Elspeth’s brother didn’t like Alacin taking over, but like it or not, the ancient Cren inside his head was useful, occasionally. Arfael dropped his chin and stared at the boy.

  “Oh, very well, if you insist.” Ealian closed his eyes. A few seconds later, he was sitting straighter and holding his chin higher.

  “This is Alacin’tien,” Arfael said, patting Ealian on the shoulder, “First Elder of the Cren’dair – and he likes talking.” Arfael smiled at Alacin, who returned the gesture with a less amiable one of his own.