“I say… let's do it,” said Rali. “Assuming Islar isn't a spy, it would be foolish to pass up a chance to question one of the emperor's personal spellcasters. And getting Hanko's dragon stone would make the treaty negotiations go more smoothly, if only to trick Bolrakei into believing that we will capitulate to her request.”
“It's a great opportunity, but getting Islar and Floki out of Morholt isn't going to be easy. If Vosper catches wind of this, he'll flay them alive,” said Sela. “Thorin, where does your cousin wish to rendezvous?”
“In Ironport. By boat, it's only a day's travel on the Orvasse River. They'll leave Morholt at night and we'll meet them in Ironport the next day.”
“Mother, will you go?” asked Rali.
“Yes. Thorin and I will go to Ironport by dragonflight. Brinsop can drop us off near the city, and then we'll accompany Floki and Islar back to Mount Velik from there. Hopefully Vosper won't discover Islar's absence until it's too late. I doubt we'll get an opportunity like this again.”
Rali felt uncomfortable putting his mother in danger, but he knew her plan was sound. “It's decided then. Elias shall go to the Elder Willow, Tallin shall come here, and you and Thorin shall escort Floki and Islar to safety.”
“The riders are stretched to the breaking point, but we have to take this chance. Vosper's renegade spellcaster might be the key to winning this war. Imagine the information he can give us about the emperor's plans.”
“I agree,” said Rali. “We must do it. Thorin, arrange the meeting. You and Sela may leave as soon as you're ready.”
“As ye command, yer highness,” said Thorin, offering a sharp salute.
Rali sank down into a chair, looking much older than his years. Thorin also sat down, but grinned broadly as he pulled out his smokeleaf pipe.
“What are you so pleased about?” asked Sela.
“Well… we're on the verge of war, the elves are in Parthos, the dwarf clans are fightin', Bolrakei's crazy, and I have to travel halfway across Durn on the back of a dragon, never mind that I'm afraid of heights!”
“When you put it like that… it sounds pretty awful,” said Sela, baffled by his good mood.
“Yup, it surely is. But Mistress Sela, I'm goin' on a quest with the downright prettiest dragon rider in the entire kingdom. So… why be worried?”
Sela's eyes got wide, and Rali laughed so hard that he fell off his chair.
Elias Leaves Parthos
The following morning, Tallin cheerfully notified Carnesîr that The Nine would be taking over temporary stewardship of Parthos. Carnesîr bristled with anger at the idea that he would be forced to obey orders from human guardsmen.
“You seriously can't expect us to take orders from a common soldier!” he exclaimed.
“Well, those are King Rali's terms,” said Tallin. “If you don't like it, you're all welcome to leave.”
Carnesîr seethed, but said nothing else. He turned and left to confer with the other elves. Less than an hour later, the elves silently took up patrols above the city. They accepted the decision without further comment, albeit unwillingly.
The Nine took their positions at strategic points in the city, with Annarr quietly taking over palace administration. Tallin marveled at their silent efficiency. Rali's guards rarely spoke, but when they did, no one questioned their authority. Perhaps it was because they were colossal and covered from head to toe in tattoos.
Tallin spent the next few days preparing Elias and Nydeired for their trip to the Elder Willow. Nydeired practiced his flying technique. His powerful wings allowed him to soar faster and longer than any dragon in the kingdom, but he still had trouble landing. Elias and Nydeired trained together, and eventually Tallin felt comfortable enough to allow them to travel alone.
On the morning of their journey, Elias waited on the palace roof, packed and ready. He carried his grandmother's journal, which contained detailed maps of the countryside. His dagger was tucked into his boot, and Chua's dragon stone hung around his neck, as always.
Nydeired had been fitted with a modified saddle, designed especially for him. A few minutes later, Tallin and Duskeye arrived on the rooftop. Tallin checked Nydeired's saddle, making sure the bindings were tight.
“Elias, are you ready?” asked Tallin.
“As ready as I'll ever be,” Elias said. “I'm a bit nervous, but excited, too.”
“As long as you're cautious, everything will be fine. Stay vigilant, especially when you cross the desert border.”
“Shouldn't I send a message to Chua before I leave?”
“That's not necessary, Elias. Chua knows you're coming. He's an oracle, remember? I'm sure he'll be waiting for you when you arrive.”
“I suppose you're right. It's still hard to believe that my father's alive,” said Elias.
“Yes. He'll answer all of your questions when you get there. Remember, you must prepare yourself for his appearance. That goes for you too, Nydeired. Starclaw also bears the scars of grave injuries.”
Nydeired nodded. I am also anxious about meeting my dam, he said, with a voice like crushed gravel.
Nydeired had grown even larger over the last few weeks. He could no longer enter the castle through the regular doorways. Stonemasons had to create a separate entrance for him. Even the elves who had lived long enough to have seen other white dragons were awestruck by Nydeired's extraordinary size.
“We should go,” said Elias.
“You won't be traveling alone. Fëanor and Blacktooth will accompany you until you reach the southern border. Don't expect either of them to speak to you-they'll likely keep their distance. Once you cross over the Elburgian Mountains, cast your concealment spell and strengthen your wards. The last leg of your journey will be the most dangerous. If you must rest, do it before you leave the desert. Don't attempt to hunt in Darkmouth Forest, and don't stop until you reach the Elder Willow. Southern Durn is crawling with empire soldiers and bounty hunters; it's not safe for you to descend.”
Elias mounted Nydeired and grabbed the reins. “Thank you, Tallin… for everything.”
“You're welcome. May Golka protect you on your journey,” he said.
Nydeired crouched, his legs thicker than tree trunks, and took off into the sky. The gust of wind from their departure was so strong that it lifted pebbles off the ground. As they flew away, the desert sun reflected off Nydeired's glittering white scales, casting rainbow-colored prisms into the air.
Minutes later, Elias looked back. Tallin and Duskeye were gone. Above the city, the elf Carnesîr and his dragon Poth patrolled the sky. And behind them, following about a league away, flew Fëanor and Blacktooth.
“Fëanor and Blacktooth are behind us. Tallin was right; they're keeping their distance,” said Elias. “I wonder if they'll stay behind us the entire journey?”
They probably don't want to talk to either of us. Are you surprised? said Nydeired.
“No… I guess not. Elves are naturally aloof; when I was traveling with Thorin last year, he told me as much. With Tallin, though, the elves don't even attempt to be friendly. They treat him with actual contempt, especially Carnesîr. I wonder if there's some old quarrel between those two, or if Carnesîr just treats Tallin that way because he's a dwarf.”
I noticed it, too. The elves' dragons are distant as well-especially Poth. I tried to speak with him more than once, but he just stared into the distance like I wasn't there. Poth is very old though-perhaps he's senile.
“It's more likely he's just rude, like his rider. But who knows? Maybe you're right. Poth could have been bound to Carnesîr hundreds, or even thousands, of years ago. Elves are immortal, after all. ” Elias looked back again, watching Fëanor and Blacktooth in the distance.
Are you nervous about meeting your father? asked Nydeired.
“Yes and no. At first, I was angry at Tallin for withholding the information from me, but after he explained his reasoning, I understood. I've fantasized about this meeting my entire life-the things I would say
, how I would react. But that was when I thought my father was dead. It's an odd feeling to know that I'll be face-to-face with him in a few days.”
Do you think their injuries are as bad as Duskeye and Tallin described?
“Yes. I'm sure they are. Probably worse. It's not Tallin's nature to exaggerate. It's hard to imagine how Chua and Starclaw could have been so badly wounded and still survived. Then again, it was my grandmother Carina that saved them, and she was a gifted healer.”
They continued to fly deeper into the southern desert. A few hours before dawn, Elias spotted a group of nomads below, their colored banners and oil lamps bobbing along the dunes. The tribesmen raised their spears and shouted a greeting into the sky. Elias waved, and another shout went up from the group.
“I recognize this tribe's colors. Would you like to go down and say hello?” said Elias.
Sure-maybe they'll offer us something to eat, said Nydeired hopefully. I'm a bit hungry.
“You're always hungry,” said Elias, laughing.
What about Fëanor and Blacktooth? asked Nydeired.
“We'll only be a minute. I don't think they'll mind,” said Elias.
Nydeired began to descend, and sure enough, Elias felt Fëanor's telepathic contact seconds later. The back of his neck itched, and Elias felt the powerful touch of the elf's unfamiliar mind on his own. Elias allowed the contact, but strengthened his wards before responding.
“Elias!” said Fëanor. “Is something wrong? Why are you stopping here?”
“Nothing's wrong. I recognize these tribesmen. I want to stop for a moment and greet them.”
“Fine,” said the elf, mildly irritated. “Please be brief.”
“Understood,” said Elias, relieved that Fëanor didn't argue. The elf dropped contact and did not say anything else. Fëanor and Blacktooth landed on a nearby plateau to observe, keeping their distance.
Nydeired circled down and landed. The tribesmen bowed deeply and then a few of their elders approached. Elias recognized one of the men immediately. “Greetings, Sa'dun! That's your name, isn't it?”
The startled man stepped forward. “Yes! I am Sa'dun,” he said. “Forgive me, esteemed rider, but how do you know my name?”
“I'm Elias. I met you last year with Tallin and Duskeye-he's the dragon rider with red hair.”
Sa'dun appeared confused for a moment, and then a shadow of recognition crossed his face. “Ah yes-now I remember. That was when Tallin warned us about the orc horde… and the slaughter of the Tribe of Wahid. Please forgive my forgetfulness-it was a very sad time for us.”
“No apology is necessary, Sa'dun. I understand,” said Elias.
“How you've grown, young man! I scarcely recognized you. And you've become a rider, I see. Congratulations.”
“Thank you, Sa'dun. If I may ask-were you able to notify the other tribes? Were your people able to avoid the horde?”
“Yes. Thanks be to Golka, we were able to warn the other tribes in time. No more of our brethren fell to the orcs, although Tallin was right about the Tribe of Wahid. The greenskins slaughtered them all. There were no survivors. I had many family members in the Tribe of Wahid. Our people mourned for a long time.”
“I'm sorry for your loss. How have you fared since the attack?”
“Life has been… challenging,” said Sa'dun sadly. “When the orcs invaded the desert, our tribes moved to the south for safety. The move saved my people, but the journey was hard. Many died along the way, especially young children and the elderly. Food is scarce in the south, but we have no choice but to stay. We must move forward, as the sun moves forward in the sky.”
“Why is that?” asked Elias. “The orcs were driven back past the Sleita Border; their numbers were cut in half. The Death Sands are safe again.”
“That may be so, but the orcs did so much damage to the desert that we have been unable to return to the north. The ground is still blackened from their oil fires, and the necromancers poisoned all the wells in the northern part of the desert. There is almost no potable water.”
“I'm sorry, Sa'dun. I had no idea,” said Elias. His eyes scanned the crowd. The women were covered from head to toe in traditional carthin, so Elias could not see their condition, but all the men and the children looked very thin. There were fewer camels, too-where once this tribe had dozens, now only a handful remained. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Perhaps. We could use a source of drinking water in this region. That would help us a lot.”
Elias scratched his chin thoughtfully. If Tallin was here, he would know what to do. Then Elias looked at Fëanor, standing off in the distance. Would he help me? he thought. “Wait here a moment, Sa'dun. I'll be right back.”
Sa'dun smiled and bowed, and the other tribesmen followed suit. Sa'dun turned around and spoke to his kinsmen, and the women started chattering excitedly. Some of the children clapped their hands.
Elias sighed. He knew that Sa'dun had just informed his tribe that the “mighty dragon rider” was going to help them. Now he felt even more pressure to do this right. Elias mounted Nydeired and flew in Fëanor's direction.
Are you going to ask Fëanor and Blacktooth to assist these people? asked Nydeired.
“Yes. I have to try. Fëanor is a more experienced spellcaster. The worst he can say is no.”
Nydeired landed near Fëanor a few minutes later. The elf was levitating with his legs crossed and Blacktooth was sitting upright, staring blankly off into the distance. They were meditating.
“Fëanor? Sorry to interrupt, and I know we're in a hurry, but these people need a water source and-.”
The elf put his hand up. “Stop,” said Fëanor, interrupting Elias. “I already know what you're going to ask.”
“Please, Fëanor. Look at them. They're starving. They need help.”
“Elias, I have orders to escort you to the southern border and nothing more. This is highly irregular.”
“I can't just leave them like this. They've suffered a great deal.”
“I must protest,” said Fëanor, shaking his head. “Our mission is paramount. We don't have the time for this. You're a dragon rider. You shouldn't allow human emotion to cloud your judgment.”
Elias bristled at the insult. “My judgment is fine. So, let me put it this way: I'm not leaving until I help these people. With or without you, I'm going to do it. This will go a lot faster with the two of us, so are you going to help me or not?”
Fëanor pursed his lips and frowned. “Fine,” he said, “I'll assist you. But you must promise that we won't make any more unscheduled stops after this.”
“Thank you,” said Elias, smiling. “I promise. No more stops. You have my word.”
“Good,” said Fëanor. “Let's get this over with then.” Fëanor and Blacktooth flew down to where the nomads were waiting.
As soon as the nomads saw the elf, a collective gasp went through the crowd. Some of the women fainted. Even the camels went into a drunken stupor. It was incredible to watch; just being near Fëanor caused everyone to respond oddly. Elias recalled what had happened the first time he met the elves in the desert. He whispered a silent prayer under his breath, thankful again for his protective wards.
“So, these people desire a well?” asked Fëanor.
“Yes… if it's possible,” said Elias.
“Of course it's possible,” said Fëanor. The elf closed his eyes and sniffed the air. Blacktooth snorted, nodding in his rider's direction. They were communicating telepathically. Elias longed for the day when he and Nydeired would be officially rider-bound to one another, so they would be able to communicate the same way, rather than having to talk to each other out loud. “Follow me,” Fëanor said, walking east.
Elias and Nydeired followed, and the entire tribe marched along behind them. It was the strangest procession-the elf and his black dragon in the lead, Elias and his white dragon in the center, and a ragtag group of tribesmen holding up the rear.
They walked for abou
t thirty minutes before Fëanor stopped, this time in a rocky area. He sniffed the air again. “Here. There's water below the surface.”
“How do you know?” asked Elias.
“I can smell it,” said Fëanor. “There's an aquifer underneath the bedrock. Once I pierce the stone, the water will flow. Stand back, please.” Fëanor closed his eyes and raised his arms. His body started to glow a rosy hue. Elias was intrigued-necromancers glowed red when performing magic, and mortals usually glowed blue. The elves glowed pink when they performed their spells.
“Stefna-logur!” Fëanor said, his palms facing upward. Nothing happened. “Stefna-logur!” he repeated. Blacktooth crouched nearby, and the stone implanted in Fëanor's chest started glowing. They were helping each other perform the spell. Elias made a mental note to ask Chua about that-he wondered if only elves could do this, or if all riders had the power to draw upon their dragon's magic.
At first, nothing happened. Then the ground turned dark with moisture. A trickle of water formed at the surface, which then turned into a puddle, and then a small pool about the size of a dinner plate. Blacktooth, who had been waiting silently nearby, now positioned himself near the spring.
“Bjarg-rammlingr!” said Fëanor, and shattered bedrock shot up from the ground. Blacktooth opened his jaws, shooting a river of fiery breath. The air sizzled with rising steam, and the fire heated the stone until it was red-hot. Fëanor stared at the molten rock, whispering incantations under his breath. The heated stone softened and began to transform.
“Vatn-Nyr-Lliki,” he said, reaching out as if to touch the pool. Fëanor's fingers moved, and the molten rock flowed, like a centipede. The magma curled around itself, taking a cylindrical shape. Fëanor stepped back. The elf nodded, satisfied with his handiwork.
“Bjarg-Risa,” he said, touching the stone one last time. The stone hardened and cooled, and the well was complete. Fëanor had fashioned the stone into a beautiful geometric pattern: a series of triangles overlapping one another.
The tribesmen scarcely breathed, standing quietly behind Elias. The children giggled excitedly and craned their necks, trying to sneak a peek around Nydeired's formidable bulk.
Vosper's Revenge Page 7