Elucia studied Alacin with an impassive gaze as she stroked her necklace. Arfael thought she might burst if she didn’t say something soon.
Taking a deep breath, the woman pulled herself up straight. “We are going to destroy the Karakin,” she announced. Her voice was flat; she might have been talking about what she had had for supper.
Destroy the Karakin? Was such a thing possible? They were spirits – dead already. How could they destroy something that was already dead? Arfael was about to ask as much, when…
A noise, a loud bang, shook the air in the temple. Arfael jumped to his feet and turned towards the door. Gialyn and Alacin were a pace behind. He heard quick footsteps coming down the spiral staircase. A guard entered the room.
“Dragons. Six, maybe eight. Two of them are in the tower. They destroyed the main entrance and part of the wall.” The guard, face pale, was pointing back at the stairs.
Elucia growled. “They’ve come for Vila. Well, don’t just stand there, man,” she barked at the guard. “Go, raise the alarm.”
The guard forced himself to swallow. “I think they already know.”
Surani’s head jerked back to Elucia. She’d been about to climb the stair when she’d heard the guard mention “dragons.” The woman looked scared. “What do we do?” she asked.
“Foolish woman,” Elucia said. “The dragons aren’t the threat; they’re a decoy. We have to get to Vila.”
“Forgive me, Elucia.” Breani placed her hand calmly on the Elucia’s wrist. “Shouldn’t someone wait here, in case she gets through? Vila came for the Stone, and if I know that woman at all, she won’t leave without what she came for.”
“Yes,” Elucia nodded. “You’re probably right. Just… let me think a moment.”
Arfael turned to Elspeth. “If Vila escapes and heads this way… You should get out of the tower. She brought you for a reason; best that you’re not found here, of all places.” He pointed to the temple – or rather the cave – containing the Barrowstone. No, not containing, the cave was the Barrowstone – who would have thought that?
“Good thinking, Arlyn,” Elucia agreed. “Guard, take these youngsters through the back tunnel. See them safely to the An’rann tower – and lock yourself in. Don’t just stand there; go!” She herded Elspeth and Brea towards the door and gave Gialyn a look that said she included him.
“I’ll stay, if it’s all the same,” Alacin said. “I can stop the dragons if I can get close enough.”
Elucia tilted her head. Shrugging, she said, “Do as you will.” The woman looked eager to see just how he planned to stop the dragons. “You will come with us,” she told Alacin.
“No!” Elspeth cried. “I’m not going without you. If something should happen –
“We’ll be fine, Elspeth. I promise,” Alacin interrupted. “I’ll not put Ealian in danger. Honestly, I’m not that brave, I’ll only help if it’s safe.”
Elspeth looked ready to argue but said nothing. The guard led her away, Brea and Gialyn following.
As Arfael expected, Elucia took charge. Another thing he remembered about the witches was they loved to be in control. Standing in the centre of the room, fists planted on her hips, she began to issue instructions.
“Surani, you will go to the central hall and gather the rest of the twelve. Breani, you will stay here and…”
She carried on in that vein until everybody had their orders. Yes, she did love to be in control.
* * *
Pacing back and forth, lost in thought, Vila barely noticed the noise coming from above her cell. The tower was a huge building, and this far underground she could hardly expect to hear anything other than the jailer rattling his keys when he brought her food – if she could call what they served here “food.”
Recalling her stupidity held her attention well enough. Why did she think those idiotic women would listen to reason? They hadn’t a hundred and thirty years ago, so why now? Maybe she was the fool! No, she was in the right. How the witches thought they could defeat Diobael by themselves was beyond her understanding. Moyathair must fight under a unified banner, with an Eiras Witch as its leader, and that witch must be her. Clearly none of the others had what it took to make the hard decision. Why had they never accepted that?
The sounds of clanging steel interrupted her thoughts. Peering through the grate in her door, she saw the guard struggling with someone. Relief swelled in her chest when she realised that that “someone” was Sergeant Haselan. She had wondered where he had gone.
The guard slid down the wall. Haselan withdrew his sword from the man’s chest. He began searching for the keys.
“They’re hanging behind his desk,” she said, trying to point towards the guard’s office through the small grate in the iron-wrapped door.
Haselan disappeared. Then reappeared moments later with a ring full of keys in his hand. He began trying the keys on her cell door.
“Hurry! They’ll be coming to check on me.” She gritted her teeth. Not wanting to call the man slow, she bit her lip and did her best job of standing patiently. “How many have come?” she asked.
“A full company ma’am, and eight dragons, but they are young. We haven’t got long.”
The lock clicked and Haselan pushed the door open.
“It will be enough. Come. We have to find the girl.”
“But I thought… uh… I mean, shouldn’t we go?”
“You’ve done well, Sergeant. Don’t ruin it now.”
She looked right then left before waving Haselan into the passage. “Go where?” she said to his back. “We need the Shard. Without it, I might as well stay here.”
Haselan nodded over his shoulder before leading her towards the stairs.
* * *
Gialyn gathered his wits. “If you make sense, I’ll listen. You heard what the woman said. We should go to this tower.”
“Hush Gialyn,” Brea whispered. “The guard is dead. We don’t know where the tower is.” She was busy untying the guard’s dagger belt, and not being too gentle, either.
Elspeth was kneeling, unravelling a bow and quiver from the dead guard’s shoulder. “She’s right. We could run into them. Best to go back the way we know.”
Gialyn sighed. He knew they were right, but the thought of putting Elspeth in danger when he only just had her back was wrenching at his gut.
The two dead Kel’madden were lying on the other side of the hall. The Eiras guard had done well before a Kel’madden dagger found his heart. Brea had hit the Kel’madden over the head with her staff, and Gialyn himself had delivered the killing blow – with one of Elspeth’s daggers.
Well, if they were going to do this, they might as well do it properly. “Give me the daggers,” he told Brea.
“Get your own daggers.”
“I’m good with daggers, Brea. You can hit them with your… stick.”
“My ‘stick’?”
Brea stood, arms folded with her staff resting on her shoulder. Gialyn was about to insist, but Elspeth beat him to it.
“He is very good with daggers, Brea. You should let him have them.” She turned and poked him in the shoulder. “And stop calling it a stick, Gialyn Re’adh. Why do you constantly annoy people?”
“It’s a stick,” he insisted.
Brea relented and handed him the three daggers she had taken from the dead guard. That made four, with the one from the Kel’madden.
Brea eyed Elspeth’s dagger harness. “Why didn’t you give him yours? You have five.”
Elspeth gave her a look that said that was never going to happen.
“Her daggers are too light,” Gialyn said. They weren’t – they would do well enough – but he couldn’t help coming to Elspeth’s defence. “These will cut through leather.” He flipped the dagger over his hand in a flourish and slid it into his belt. The other three had sheaths; he would have to remember not to jump too hard with the naked blade pointed at his leg.
“Then let me have the bow,” Brea said to El
speth.
“But… I’m trained to use a bow. Can’t you use that?” She tapped a Kel’madden polearm with her foot.
“Use it? I can barely lift it. No, you can’t have both,” Brea insisted. “You can’t leave me unarmed. The bow or the daggers; choose.”
Elspeth chewed her lip, looking at the bow in her left hand and the daggers strapped to her right thigh. “I’ve only just got these back,” she said, tapping the daggers. “Can’t you conjure up some… bees, or something? You know, like Olam does.”
Brea brow rose almost to her hair. She stared indignantly at Elspeth. “Can you see any bees around here? Besides, it doesn’t work like that. I need time to summon. Or do you think I should have the… bees follow us?”
“I don’t know?” Elspeth chided.
Brea raised her chin and folded her arms. “It’s the daggers or the bow, Elspeth.”
Reluctantly, Elspeth undid her dagger strap and handed it to Brea, who then strapped it to her own thigh. It looked… odd, on her.
“So now where?” Brea asked.
Elspeth looked up and down the corridor. We should probably go up, get as far away from that temple as we can.”
Brea nodded. It was a good idea. Gialyn led them to the spiral staircase and waved Elspeth to the fore. She frowned at him.
“There won’t be any Kel’madden up the stairs. If we’re attacked, it will be from behind.”
Elspeth smiled and put her hand gently on his cheek. Her touch made his heart race more than the Kel’madden attack had.
Brea sighed. “They’ll find us for sure if you don’t get a move on.”
Gialyn waited for Brea to pass, then followed the two women up the stairs.
* * *
Arfael stepped into the high corridor overlooking the central hall. The low wall to his right gave enough cover for him to duck down and run along towards the stone dais at the far end. He didn’t want to use those blue stone walls; there was no telling what that might do to him. He needed good, old-fashioned stone: granite, or maybe slate.
The dragon in the hall below was staring up at the opposite balcony. He had no idea what it was doing. He didn’t much care, as long as the thing stayed put.
He reached the dais and, before kneeling in front of it, he loosened his belt and bootstraps. Taking a deep breath, he laid his hands on the stone. It was granite. This would be the first time in over a century that he had Turned of his own free will. Turned, not just changed. He wasn’t looking forward to it. He could remember the pain, the searing heat coursing through his veins. And what if it didn’t work properly? What if he couldn’t control himself? No, he had to. As he was, he was just another man; but as the Cinnè’arth he could fight a dozen Kel’madden, maybe even a dragon, and win.
Arfael bowed his head and cleared his mind. As his breath deepened, he let the calm wash over him. After a moment, the familiar shaking began. Forcing himself not to let go, he felt the heat of the stone as his skin began to react. Abruptly, the shuddering stopped, and he groaned as the Cinnè’arth took over. He had passed the point where control of events was his. The shaking returned, heavier than before, and he began clawing at the stone. The granite softened until it gave way. He punched his fingers into the stone. The stone melted like hot lead, pooling and spitting as he stirred his fingers around. The liquid began to rise, covering his arms in the milky-brown sheen of polished granite. As his armour rose higher, the scales began to form beneath his Kun has Olef armour. The armour stretched as his arms thickened, just as it had been designed to. When his arms had taken all they could, he pulled up lumps of near-molten stone and held them against his face. The stone melted and slid along his neck like steel drawn from a furnace. He tried not to scream as the liquid rolled down his back. Convulsing, he steadied himself, hands back on the dais, and waited for the agony to end.
Eventually, Arfael removed his hands from what was now half a dais. He flinched, gasping out fast breaths as his back cracked and his legs widened. Leaning forward, he spat out his human teeth and tongued the now-sprouting fangs as they emerged from his bleeding gums. Finally, he peeled off his fingernails, and watched as black, palm-length talons grew in their place.
It was done. Pulling away from the “eaten” stone, he let out a deafening roar before settling on all fours. Jumping off the ten-span high balcony, he landed on the hard floor of the main hall and made his way towards the front entrance. If there were fighting to be had, it would likely be there.
* * *
Fire, such as Alacin had rarely seen, filled the corridor to his left; not real fire but the blue-green flame of dragon’s breath. There was no going down there. Curse Arfael and his hunt for “real” stone, and curse him for not following the man.
What was he doing? On his own, with dragons about and nothing more than two daggers to his name. He’d tried summoning, but nothing that would be of any use was within range – unless a flock of sparrows could defeat a dragon. They might make it angry, maybe.
He was lost, he realized. Oh, he knew he was close to the main hall, but which end of it? There were Kel’madden everywhere, or so it seemed – at least fifty of them. One of their dragons must be a Nirad for that many Troopers to descend on the tower, and gods knew how many were still outside. He had to find the others. Either that, or hide and wait for the fighting to pass. He had promised Elspeth he wouldn’t get Ealian killed, and he meant it. Saving himself, too, was a happy coincidence.
He was about to go looking for a hole to hide in, when he heard a voice shouting his name. But no ordinary voice.
“Brea? Is that you?” he whispered, and then repeated the comment as a thought. The voice was in his head. It was a strange sensation; nobody had done that since the Cren had joined him to Ealian. “I can hear you.”
Go to the main hall. I have the dragon calmed. Hurry.
You have the… How?
Hurry, no time to explain.
All right, I’m coming. It isn’t far.
So much for hiding. He turned back the way he came and ran along the corridor towards the hall.
He didn’t get far before he saw Vila on a crosswalk thirty paces ahead. She had guards with her. He ducked behind a pillar. It would do no good confronting them. Flattening himself against the wall, he waited and hoped Brea could hold the dragon until he got there.
* * *
“There,” Elucia said, pointing towards the kitchens. Vila was standing in a crosswalk not fifty paces away. “It’s her. Quickly, don’t let her get away again.”
A cloud of brown and white billowed from the corridor as the guards ran towards the kitchens. The four men stopped and looked back at her, reluctance carved on their faces.
“They’re only birds, damn you. Is that armour you are wearing or linen? Don’t just stand there; go!” Yes, she had seen two men pecked to death, their eyes eaten by sparrows, of all things, but she didn’t see the need to tell the guards that. “And keep your helmets on!”
The guards ran towards the corridor and were immediately enveloped by the teeming birds. They beat them back, only to be attacked by four Kel’madden Troopers. Elucia cringed as two of her guards fell.
This was becoming annoying. How did they get so many Kel’madden into the tower? “Retreat,” she shouted. “We’ll go around.” She waved a young guard over to her. The boy wasn’t old enough to be there. “You, run to the colonel, tell him where Vila is. Then go see what is happening outside. Keep low; I want a report, not another dead guard.”
Not that sending word would matter much; Vila would be on the other side of the tower before Colonel Graes received the message.
The woman was proving crafty. Clearly, she was looking for Elspeth. She had had more than one opportunity to escape, yet the Kel’madden remained in the tower.
* * *
Vila frowned at the small group crouched on the balcony. How did they get here? She recognised the boy from outside the Tunnels of Aldregair, and the other was the Oracle – she’d know her
presence if blindfolded. They were supposed to be dead.
“There she is,” Vila whispered, pointing at the tall girl on the right. “That’s her, that’s Elspeth.”
The girl’s back was facing her, but it was clear who she was; she was wearing her old clothes again. Why had her maids packed her clothes? No matter, the hunter garb pointed to her as surely as if her name was written on her back.
“We’ll have to go back down,” Haselan said. “Come up behind them, unless you want us to use arrows.”
“Don’t be a fool. I’m not dragging a corpse down to the temple. And if you kill the others, she’ll run. No, we’ll go back. They seem settled; they probably think they’re safe. With luck, they won’t move on.”
Haselan nodded and led the way back down the stairs.
The girl had better stay put! Every minute Vila spent in this place was another chance for the Eiras to capture her again. But she couldn’t leave, not without the Shard.
* * *
Brea could not see Elspeth, nor hear Gialyn’s constant complaining. The Voice held her attention completely. She’d managed to keep the dragon calm for the past few minutes, but not much longer. Where was Alacin? She knew from what had happened to the young dragon, Karlas, that the ancient Cren inside Ealian’s head could “turn” a dragon, but if he didn’t hurry up…
“Where is he?” Brea asked. “One of you tell me what is happening, I can’t see anything but that wicked dragon’s mind. It isn’t pleasant.”
Brea swam in the dragon’s hatred. Calm or not, the beast’s mind was focused. Her “bond,” if she could call it that, seemed little better than holding a stick to a wolf; barely enough to keep it at bay. The dragon was wary now, staying back beyond her defences, but it would attack as soon as she let her guard down.
“I don’t know,” Gialyn told her. “The dragon is sitting still, but I can’t see Alacin anywhere. There’s a Kel’madden soldier on the far side of the hall, though.”
The Dragon Oracles: Omnibus Edition (The Eastern Kingdom Omnibus Book 1) Page 109