“Your grandmother saved us all. She was a hero. She was the one who found us floating down the Orvasse, and she was the one who nursed us back to health. Without her help, all of us would have died. ”
“But how did grandmother find us? Did she have help?”
“Yes, Carina got help from the Shadow Grid—and Sisren.”
“I know Sisren. She was my bodyguard during the orc siege of Parthos. Sisren was the one who actually killed Ionela, my mother.”
“Sisren is a powerful mage in her own right, and much older than she looks. I suspect she has a touch of elvish blood. She may have been instrumental in our rescue, but I can’t be sure. I was in such poor health during that time. It took months for me to recover, and my memories of that time are still foggy.”
Elias reached up and touched the dragon stone around his neck, as he had done countless times. “I’ve had your stone for a long time. Can I ask—how do you communicate with Starclaw without it? Do you speak dragon tongue?”
This time, Starclaw answered. Youngling, having the dragon stone only makes communication easier. Chua and I have lived in darkness and silence for years. We communicated using our stones at first, but as our link grew stronger, we found that we had no need for it.
“But how is that possible?” asked Elias.
“Elias, every dragon rider has some level of telepathic ability. Some more than others. When a rider goes through his binding ceremony, the joining creates a permanent telepathic link between rider and dragon. The link is always active, because the magic of the dragon stone keeps it that way. But, as you know, there are other ways to communicate with dragons. You communicate with Nydeired because you have my stone, and the dragon stone of a parent can be transferred to a child and vice versa. The transfer is partial, because I’m still alive, but the stone can be useful to you nonetheless.”
“It’s saved my life more times than I can count. Sometimes the spells that come from the stone are ones that I’ve never heard of. It’s difficult to control.”
“There were times when I intervened,” said Chua. “I could sense that you were in danger, and I directed a spell through the stone to protect you.”
“I thought so, although at the beginning I wasn’t sure. There were times when the stone drained my energy,” said Elias. “When Hanko attacked me in Miklagard, I fainted. I had to take the stone off my neck. Tallin was the one who eventually saved me.”
“There are risks. The energy for the spells must always come from you, and I knew you were an inexperienced spellcaster. I just prayed you would be able to maintain the spell long enough to save yourself.”
Elias removed the stone from around his neck and reached out. “Here, take it. I’ve brought it back for you.”
Chua waved his hand. “No, no, Elias. Keep it for now. You need it to communicate with Nydeired. You can return it to me when you complete your binding ceremony.”
“But that could be months from now. Sela will be performing the ceremony, and she’s at Mount Velik with King Rali.”
“No, she’s not,” said Chua. “Sela will be coming here.”
Elias was incredulous. “Sela is coming all the way here? To the Elder Willow? But why?”
Chua took a deep breath, and then he said quietly, “I have foreseen it. Sela has been attacked by necromancers. She is coming here… because she’s dying.”
The Attack
Thorin was gone. Sela was stricken. “I don’t want to leave his body here, out in the open,” she said.
“I’ll cover him up with branches,” said Islar, “and hide the body so we can come back and retrieve it later, when it’s safe.”
We need to leave now, said Brinsop. The necromancers will be here any moment.
“No,” said Sela. “I’m not leaving yet. Those deadrats need to pay for what they’ve done.”
“But you can’t fight them both!” said Islar. “They’re too powerful.”
“Wait here, Islar,” said Sela, ignoring his warning. “I’ll send Brinsop back to pick you up. She’ll transport you to safety.” Then she mounted Brinsop’s saddle and flew away.
“Wait, wait—I have an idea,” said Islar, but it was too late. Sela had left to fight the necromancers once again.
Islar walked over to the nearby creek. The water was stagnant and brackish. He reached down and swirled his hand into the water. When he brought his hand back up, a leech had attached itself to his palm. I know what to do! he thought.
Sela and Brinsop found the necromancers immediately, and they were back in the fight.
“Sssso… you have returned…” said Uldreiyn, who had reattached his severed hand. The wound was still visible, and a ring of crusted dirt and clotted blood circled his wrist. It hung limply at his side.
Uevareth had almost recovered from Sela’s paralyzing spell. He kneeled near his brother, wheezing and spitting as he struggled to stand.
Sela circled the two while Brinsop kept the soldiers at bay. “You’ll pay for what you did today.”
“I seriously… doubt it,” said Uldreiyn, reaching out to strike with his good hand. “Villieldr-binda!” he said, and a hot orb shot out from his palm. Sela sidestepped the attack, but lost her footing.
She stumbled, hitting the ground with one knee. The orb landed harmlessly in the dirt behind her. Before she rose back up, she filled her hands with sand. She swiftly regained her balance and lunged forward, sending two fistfuls of sand into the eyes of the necromancers. They howled with rage, blinded by the simple trick.
“Hringr-Incêndio! Hringr-Incêndio!” they screamed, shooting fireballs in every direction. Sela avoided them easily—the necromancers couldn’t see well enough to aim. She dashed behind them and kicked Uevareth in the small of his back, sending him sprawling to the ground.
Uldreiyn reached out and jerked his brother back to his feet. They squinted, trying to focus. Dirty, black tears ran from their eyes and mixed with the sand, making them look even more ghoulish than usual.
“Dreyma-lita-purs-krellr!” said Uldreiyn, and an apparition materialized before Sela. It was a green monstrosity, looking somewhat like a cross between an orc and a giant lizard.
“An illusion? Really?” said Sela. “Is this supposed to frighten me?”
“No… not really,” said Uldreiyn, as the apparition struck Sela full force in the chest. Sela staggered to the ground, the wind knocked out of her. Her mouth opened and closed like a fish while she struggled to breathe. She touched her side and knew immediately that several of her ribs were broken.
“Surprised?” said Uevareth, leering. “It’s an elvish sssspell… not an illusion, really, but a bound sssspirit. The sssspell doesn’t last very long, unfortunately, but certainly long enough… to kill you.”
The apparition writhed and spun, trying to free itself. As it struggled to escape the necromancer’s control, the spirit-creature became more and more infuriated. “Kill her, and I shall release you!” ordered Uldreiyn.
The creature shouted with rage, then reached down and grabbed Sela by the leg, lifting her off the ground. Sela tried to kick herself free, but the creature’s grip was like iron.
“Nagl-meizi!” said Sela, twisting in the air. Her body spun like a tiny hurricane, and the creature released her. “Nagl-meizi!” she said again. This time, she twirled her wrists, and the air filled with choking dust, spinning upward. This only seemed to make the creature angrier, and he reached out blindly to attack Sela again. It swung and missed, but Uldreiyn had maneuvered himself behind her, and the necromancer grabbed her by the back of the neck and squeezed.
Sela cried out as the necromancer’s nails bit deeply into her flesh. She heard a loud crack, and then the necromancer let go. Sela crumpled to the ground.
Sela! cried Brinsop in anguish. Trembling with anger, the dragon inhaled, sending another river of fire at the soldiers. The few that remained were experienced fighters—they maintained their distance, but continued to engage the dragon in combat. Brinsop’s legs
and wings were covered with dozens of shallow cuts.
“Get the dragon!” ordered Uldreiyn, and the spirit-creature obeyed, running over to attack Brinsop before she could come to Sela’s aid. Brinsop spat a river of flame at the creature, and it stopped advancing. But it blocked her path.
The necromancers lifted Sela up by hair and began burning her flesh. She tried to scream, but could not. The pain was indescribable. The two necromancers laughed as they tortured her.
Unable to cry out, Sela sent a desperate telepathic message to Brinsop, “Go find Islar!” Brinsop left the fight and took flight, looking for the young mage.
Brinsop found Islar where Sela had left him, waiting by the creek. She pointed at her saddle, indicating that Islar should get on. Islar swallowed hard. “I can’t ride a dragon. I’m not sure it’s a good idea.”
Brinsop pointed again, more insistently. They had to leave, now!
“Uh, wait… dragon… can you understand me?” he asked.
Brinsop nodded. She could understand human speech, although she knew that Islar would be unable to understand her responses.
“Look, Vosper uses leeches to torture the necromancers. They’re terrified of them. A necromancer’s blood is enchanted, and once the leech attaches, it continues to suck blood until it explodes. The necromancers can’t remove them on their own—there’s something about the leech that makes it impossible. The creek over there is full of them! This might give us a chance.”
Brinsop nodded again, understanding the plan. Hurry! she thought.
“Just hold on—I’m going to collect some.” He dipped his waterskin into the creek, and scooped the leeches inside.
When Islar stood back up, he raised the waterskin in the air proudly. “Got them!”
Good! growled Brinsop. She went over and grabbed the startled mage, who yelped. Brinsop placed him on the saddle and took off. Islar grasped the reins and struggled to hold on. Within seconds, they were back at the fight.
The spirit-creature was gone, released by the necromancers. The remaining soldiers had formed a semi-circle around the fight. Sela’s crumpled body lay on the ground, surrounded by a puddle of blood. She was covered with countless burns. Even from a distance, Islar knew that she was in serious trouble.
One of the necromancers looked up into the sky and saw Islar riding in on Brinsop. Uldreiyn and Uevareth abandoned their play. Sela didn’t stir.
“Look! It’ssss the traitor. Who would have thought… that he had the courage to return?” said Uldreiyn.
“Thank you… for ssssparing us the trouble… of having to go look for you,” said Uevareth, his raspy voice bubbling with laughter. The two necromancers raised their arms to attack. Brinsop flew in close, and before they had time to react, Islar squeezed the water skin. Dozens of leeches sprayed out, hitting them on their face and arms.
The necromancers screamed, clawing at their faces. The thirsty parasites attached themselves immediately and began sucking their enchanted blood. The necromancers writhed in pain, ignoring everyone while they moved in circles.
It worked! thought Islar. Now he knew why Vosper enjoyed torturing the necromancers with leeches. The necros were incapacitated. They had been completely unprepared for this type of attack.
On the ground, Sela groaned. Islar reached down and lifted her in his arms. At least she’s alive, he thought.
Brinsop reached out with one clawed foot, striking down the necromancers. They both tumbled to the ground, convulsing.
The engorged leeches were now the size of oranges, and gaping holes had opened up on the necromancers’ chalk-white skin. Then, one by one, the leeches began to pop, exploding their foul contents onto the grass. The necromancers gurgled and began foaming at the mouth. Islar jumped back, avoiding the stinking gore.
For good measure, Brinsop sent another river of flame into the forest. The trees and shrubs burned like matchsticks, filling the area with smoke. Brinsop grunted and jerked her head.
“Right! Let’s get out of here,” said Islar, flinging Sela’s limp body over the saddle. Islar hopped on the dragon’s back, and Brinsop took off into the sky once more.
Islar held Sela’s body, which was slick with blood and sweat. The burns on her neck, face, and torso were severe. Her face was puffy and unrecognizable. Brinsop also had a number of injuries—the worst of which was a serious cut to her wing.
“Brinsop, I know you can understand me. Sela’s badly hurt. I don’t know what to do…I don’t have any training as a healer,” he said desperately. “We need to get her some help, and fast. Otherwise, she’s going to die.”
In the distance, he could still hear the necromancers’ horrifying screams; he would remember the sound as long as he lived. He held Sela tighter and closed his eyes, thankful to be alive.
Brinsop grunted, pumping her wings faster as she flew south. She didn’t bother to speak—she knew that Islar wouldn’t understand her anyway.
Brinsop knew exactly where she had to go.
Clan Fights
Rali prepared for the clan meeting wearing his formal attire, including his crown. They all expected him to sit through another yelling match, but the atmosphere of this meeting was sure to be different because of Tallin’s presence.
The dwarf rider had so far refused all of the king’s official requests, and only capitulated when Hergung forced the issue. Hergung issued an official order for Tallin to attend tonight’s banquet.
Tallin accepted the order coolly, but without contempt. Now he waited outside Rali’s chambers to accompany the young king to the meeting.
Rali came out, dressed in full regalia. He wore his father’s crown, a velvet cape, and ornate leather armor, dyed in the official colors of his realm, orange and blue.
“Well… how do I look?” he said.
“Uncomfortable,” said Tallin.
Rali chuckled. “I’d gotten used to wearing light tunics in the desert. This clothing is cumbersome and heavy.” Rali clipped an ornate brooch to his belt and sheathed his sword.
“The clans want to see a king, so you must look the part,” said Tallin. “It’s expected of you.”
Rali sighed. “I know. I just hope that the clans will resolve their differences soon. The more time we waste here, the less confidence I have that we’ll ever form an alliance with the dwarves. It’s disheartening, because Parthos really needs an ally.”
“Don’t worry,” said Tallin. “Tonight will be different.”
Rali raised one eyebrow, but did not question Tallin any further.
Tallin walked over to Duskeye, who was sleeping. He patted him on the shoulder and Duskeye opened his good eye. Rali watched rider and dragon communicate silently for a few moments, and then Tallin turned to leave.
“Ready, your highness?” said Tallin.
“Not really. But we may as well get this over with,” said Rali. Aor, Rali’s private guard, left his post at the chamber entrance and followed silently behind the king.
They walked in silence until they reached the mead hall, where the other clan leaders were waiting.
Rali took his seat near the head of the table on Hergung’s right side. A space had been reserved for Tallin on the left. The clan leaders all greeted Tallin and Rali warmly, save Bolrakei, who remained silent.
King Hergung stood and spoke. “We are pleased to have two esteemed guests this evening. May the banquet begin!” Hergung clapped his hands, and immediately servants appeared holding huge platters of food and placing them in strategic places on the table. Roast goose, fried kilscups, giant plates of sautéed mushrooms, and an enormous roast pig, glistening with fat, were just a few of the entrees.
Hergung took the first cut from the roast pig and offered it to King Rali, as was customary for visiting royalty. “Thank you, your highness,” said Rali, accepting the thick cut of ham. Hergung cut a piece for himself and then nodded his head, indicating that everyone else had permission to eat.
The attendees served themselves, except Tallin. His p
late remained empty. He repeatedly refused offers of wine or mead from the steward.
“Tallin, my friend, please, enjoy the food,” said Hergung. “This banquet is for you.”
“Thank you, but I prefer to eat with my dragon, your highness,” said Tallin.
“Nonsense! Eat! Eat! There is enough food here for fifty men,” said Hergung.
“No, thank you,” said Tallin, refusing again.
“Well then, why not invite Duskeye to eat with us?” said Hergung.
“Duskeye is a dragon, not a man. He has no desire to attend banquets. He prefers solitude, as do I,” said Tallin, indirectly referring to the fact that it was Hergung’s order that had forced him to attend the banquet. Tallin’s comment did not go unnoticed. It was an insult to refuse food from the king. The other leaders at the table set down their forks.
Bolrakei sneered, seeing an opportunity to start a fight. “Who is this person? A dragon rider, or a king? How dare you insult our leader!”
“No insult is intended, Bolrakei,” said Tallin coldly. “I am here to offer support to the king, not to participate in empty ceremony. I have been alone for many years, and my ways are not your ways.”
“Your king?” said Bolrakei. “Tell us, which king do you serve? Your human king, or your dwarf king? No man can have two masters.”
Tallin knew that Bolrakei was baiting him. “My allegiance is none of your concern, Bolrakei. These petty squabbles are merely a distraction, and undermine the peace we should be forging between our two races.”
“Fah!” she scoffed. “Now you’re a diplomat? Your insolence is astounding!”
“It is never too late to make peace,” said Tallin. “Your protests do nothing to ensure the safety and security of this mountain. An alliance would help Parthos and Mount Velik.”
Bolrakei stood up, furious. “How dare you lecture me! I am a clan leader, and I will not tolerate this disrespect!” She shook her fist in Tallin’s direction.
Vosper's Revenge Page 13