Everyone except for Fane crowded over to see what he’d spotted. Hanging half tilted was a slashed painting of the Rycan landscape. A small hand-drawn map peeked out of a cut corner. It looked to be a sketch of Ryca.
Jarrod carefully eased out the drawing and laid it on a table for all of them to study. Overlying the western shores of Ryca, the word ‘Melak’ was printed in bold script. Above that, Skye’s Light ball was hovering.
No wonder none of them had seen the Light earlier. Not only had it been hidden by the painting, it had shrunk itself into a tiny spark, barely visible.
Tamara glanced at Skye with a smile. “Why did we ever doubt Saira? She’s always right. Your worries about Bevan are needless, Skye. If anyone can bring him home in one piece, even from a mythical world, it’s my sister.”
“Jarrod.” Skye turned to him. “Can you take me with you to meet my mother after all? I’ve changed my mind and want to travel with her and Saira to Melak.”
He closed his eyes a moment and when he opened them, his dark brown eyes were shaded by sadness.
“I’m sorry, but I can no longer sense either your parents or Saira and Tom on Rycan soil. I would guess they have been picked up and are well on their way by sea. Saira may have used a spell to speed her vessel’s passage.”
The longer Tamara stared at Melak, the more her head ached. She focused instead at the other end of the chart. “What are these other places?” She pointed to two circular land masses. “Isa and Ashari. I’ve never heard of them.”
From the doorway, Fane leaned in so far, he was in danger of falling over. Reluctantly, he came forward. Once he had an opportunity to study the map, he nodded sagely. “Those are worlds the dragon riders have traveled to.” He pointed to the one called Isa. “That’s the dragon realm. I’ve dreamed of returning there for years.”
“Returning?” Tamara said. “You’ve been there?”
“I was born there, princess,” Fane said, surprising them all. “I’m an apprentice of the last dragon rider. He brought me here five years ago. My village raised eleven children who were picked as potential dragon riders. My family had high hopes I would be the third in our family to ride one. That’s why a dragon rider chose me to train.”
Skye looked at him with narrow-eyed speculation. “So, it’s true that dragons can travel between realms?”
“Yes.”
“If you acquired a dragon, would you take us to Melak?”
“Skye,” Tamara said gently, “that’s a bit of a stretch. How are we going to get to Isa for Fane to acquire a dragon? Even if we could travel between realms, wouldn’t it be better to bypass Isa and head directly to Melak where Bevan is?”
“We cannot go to Melak,” Fane said. “There’s no corresponding gateway there. Only on Isa. It matters not, the gateway stones on Ryca are lost to us.”
“What are gateway stones?” Thyel asked.
“They allow for travel between realms.” Jarrod said, reading from his tome.
“Yes,” Fane said, “but when King Ywen, the usurper, banned all practice of magic, his sorcerer, Tamarisk, ordered the tower’s Quinlin stones to be destroyed. Without one of those stones, we cannot access the dragon realm, or any other world.”
“Uncle Ywen had much to answer for,” Tamara agreed in a grim tone.
“Yes.” Jarrod pointed to a page in his tome. “It’s written here that all of the dragon riders, clan members, and apprentices in the temple were put to death.”
Fane nodded. “Except for me because I hadn’t been brought to Ryca yet.”
“Bevan’s clever,” Skye said, with a stubborn turn to her mouth. “He could have found another way to the dragon realm and from there to Melak.”
“It wouldn’t matter,” Fane said. “I tell you, without a Quinlin stone, or a dragon, no one can travel between realms.”
“You said a dragon rider brought you here. What happened to him and his dragon?” Jarrod asked, quill quivering with excitement.
Tamara rolled her eyes.
“When the royal creed was executed,” Fane said, seemingly as happy to relate past events, as Jarrod was to record it, “two dragon riders were scheduled to return here. The first, left his dragon on Isa and came through the gate. Tamarisk’s men killed him on entry. The other, who returned on his dragon, saw what was happening and escaped back to Isa.”
Fane’s face was bathed in enthusiasm as he retold these exciting events. Tamara suspected that since he lived here alone with an old blind keeper, a chance to interact with people and talk about his passion, even if it involved a retelling of gruesome events, must be a rare joy.
“That last dragon rider returned now and again to Ryca to check for news. He was aging and waited for the chance to return home for good. After King Ywen and Tamarisk were killed five years ago, the rider searched for a new apprentice to bring with him, and picked me. Together, we arrived at the tower in secret, for the rider no longer trusted those in Ryca.”
“Wise,” Tamara said, thinking she didn’t truly trust anyone on Ryca either.
“He’s now the blind keeper, isn’t he?” Skye said. “And you’re his apprentice.”
“Yes, princess. He wanted to continue the tradition of protecting this temple.”
“Where is his dragon?” Thyel asked, skepticism in his tone. “Why has no one on Ryca seen it?”
“The dragon had been ailing, sir, and it died shortly after our return to Ryca. My master would have perished, too, for the bond between dragon and rider is compelling, but he lived on. The day his dragon died, he lost his sight, and is often in much pain. He lives to train me to follow in his footsteps. He says legend speaks of a new age to come when a queen dragon will return to Ryca with a rider matched to her for life. Together, they will resurrect the Cult of Dragons.”
“You hope to be that other rider, don’t you?” Thyel gave a laugh. “You think yourself strong enough to control a dragon, lad?”
Fane frowned. “Riders don’t control their dragons. When a rider and dragon bond, their purpose becomes one.”
“Then I would not care to ride one,” Tamara said with a laugh. “I would never surrender my needs to another.”
“Well spoken, my love,” Thyel said, casually draping an arm around her shoulders. “I, too, would balk at such an arrangement.” His gaze stayed glued to Fane. “If I rode a dragon, it would be completely under my control.”
His words sent a shiver down Tamara’s back. Not only did the notion of controlling something else not appeal, but the idea Thyel saw the world that way bothered her.
This was the man she had almost chosen as her future mate, someone she took as malleable and who would bow to her wishes. Now he sounded harsh and domineering.
She stepped back toward the window pretending to look out, but in truth it was to remove his hand from around her shoulder.
Who was this Thyel?
Chapter 5
With time slipping away between Tamara’s fingers, the possibility of her mother commanding her to marry Gideon loomed.
Jarrod’s hand touched her shoulder gently, and she glanced at him in surprise. The open sympathy in his eyes brought tears to hers and she looked away, stepping out of his reach, too. She didn’t want him focusing his talent on her, feeling sorry for her.
“If there was a chance to acquire one of those mythical beasts,” Thyel was saying, “I would certainly accompany you, Princess Skye, but Tamara’s correct, this is a foolish dream. We’ve done all we can here. We might as well leave.”
Skye turned desperate eyes to Jarrod. “Can you not transport us to Isa?”
“Isa is outside Ryca, so no.”
“Can you go anywhere within Ryca, sir?” Fane asked.
Jarrod gave the young lad a curious look. “If I have something to focus on. What did you have in mind?”
Fane’s eyes shone bright with renewed enthusiasm. “We might be able to acquire another Quinlin stone with which to travel to Isa.”
“From where?�
�� Thyel asked. “You said they’d been destroyed.”
“The one from the second tower wasn’t lost,” Fane said. “When the edict came about no magic, the keepers feared for the portal stones’ safety. They were in the process of dismantling the large stones when King Ywen’s men arrived. They only had time to save one.”
“They hid it,” Jarrod said.
Tamara spotted him reading from his book again. What an amazing tome. “It says that there?”
He nodded. “Of course. All history of Ryca is recorded in Falcon’s Tome. I only need to think of what I wish to search for and then I can find the information.”
“Where was this second stone taken?” Skye asked.
“And why have you not brought it back?” Thyel added.
“We don’t know where it’s hidden,” the young man admitted. “The one entrusted to ensure the stone’s safety was slain by King Ywen’s men.”
“And the stone was taken?” Thyel asked.
“We don’t know,” Fane admitted. “It could have been destroyed or it might still be safe in its hiding place.”
Tamara had an answer to that. “Its location is probably recorded in Jarrod’s book.” She leaned to read over his shoulder. “Isn’t it?”
“I thought you didn’t care for the tome?” he said.
“That was when I thought it was useless.” At his frown, she pasted an apologetic smile on her face. “Now Jarrod, you’re not going to let our little disagreement about the book keep you from telling us where the stone is, are you?”
“Of course, he isn’t.” Skye approached Erov’s Chief Councilor with a determined stride.
He closed the book, and took Skye’s hand. In a flutter of his long white robe and her blond hair, they both vanished, leaving the room in a swirling chaos of papers.
“Jarrod!” Tamara called out. How could he have taken Skye, when Tamara had been standing right beside him? She would have cheerfully hit him if he re-appeared.
“Ahhhh!” she screamed to relieve her frustration and shook her arms in fury at the empty spot where Jarrod had stood.
Fane took a cautious step away. “Where did they go?”
“To fetch us the stone, of course,” Tamara said in a bitter tone. “Where else?”
“I doubt it,” Thyel said. “With such a powerful jewel in his possession, we may never see him again.”
“He’ll be back.” Tamara gave Thyel a dark look. “He would never betray us.”
Thyel looked skeptical but then turned to Fane. “Where is this keeper of yours? Why has he not found us yet?”
“He’s an old man,” Fane replied. “He spends most of his time sleeping. I usually shake him awake to give me my lessons.”
Tamara, who still felt distinctly disgruntled by Jarrod’s desertion, barely listened. All of a sudden, she was exhausted and hungry.
Sunlight poured in through the high narrow windows. She pointed to them and said, “It’s morning and I haven’t eaten in too long. Any chance of getting food, Fane?”
“I can fetch some.” Fane bit worriedly at his thumbnail. “Maybe my master won’t blame me for letting you stay after I tell him you’re helping us recover the Quinlin stone.”
“Good thinking.” Thyel turned Fane about and gave him a shove toward the doorway. “Go get us food.”
He then turned to Tamara with a thoughtful expression. “It might be useful to see this portal room. To make sure we’ll be able to use the stone, if your Lord Jarrod ever returns with it. If you’re tired, Fane and I can go.”
She didn’t want to be here by herself so she shook her head. “I’ll come. Sleep can wait.”
Luckily, she didn’t have to wait long. In short order, Fane returned with an armful of bread and cheese, and a cask of water to wash it down. Thyel instantly set to convincing him to show them the portal room.
“Absolutely not.” Fane backed away still clutching the provisions. “I’m in enough trouble for letting you in here.”
“What harm is there in checking to see if the Quinlin stone, if recovered, could effectively transport us to Isa?” Thyel tossed the loaf of bread to Tamara. He then extracted the block of cheese wrapped in cloth but kept a hold of it. It smelled as tempting as the bread in her hands. Her stomach grumbled in anticipation of breakfast.
“We could eat our meal there while we wait for Jarrod,” Tamara suggested to Fane with a pleading smile. “What difference does it really make, Fane, if we wait here or there? And there, brings us closer to dragons.”
At mention of dragons, the lad’s eyes lit up.
Tamara couldn’t imagine the slight hesitant young boy ever riding a ferocious beast like the ones depicted in stone on the tower bridge or like the one swooping toward her in her dreams, but that’s what he apparently craved.
Thyel gave her a nod of approval from behind the boy.
“All right,” Fane finally said. “I suppose waiting there is no different. We have to go down first, then up using outside stairs. King Ywen’s horsemen destroyed the inner stairway that reaches to the top of the tower.”
With the water cask in his grip, Fane led the way. Thyel waved for Tamara to go ahead of him. She tucked the bread under her arm to avoid the temptation to take a bite. Her stomach grumbled at having to wait to eat.
“Hurry,” Fane whispered from down the first flight of stairs, “but be quiet as we pass by the keeper’s quarters.”
Two stories down, they crossed a landing that had a plain wooden door, scarred and cracked with age. Fane looked back at them and held up a finger to his lips.
Tamara crept past that entry. Every scrape of boots on stone, her every breath that hushed out, seemed to echo loudly inside the long central tower. One step down past the landing and Thyel cursed softly behind her. The cheese was slipping out of the cloth wrapping.
Tamara, who was right in front of him, deftly caught the smelly cheese. It squished within her nervous grip. The aged scent drenched in brandy invaded and overwhelmed her senses, making her salivate.
Unable to resist, she tore off a little piece and ate it, relishing the strong creamy flavor.
Thyel shook his head, giving a tolerant smile before he grabbed the bread from under her arm and kept going past. Fane flapped his arms, urging them to hurry.
Before Tamara could heed his instructions, the wooden door on the landing creaked open.
“Who goes there?” a shaky male voice called out.
She froze and slowly looked over her shoulder.
A bent old man looked out the open doorway, his nose raised and sniffing. His hair was white and waist length, looking stringy and knotted in places. His beard, too, was long, hanging down to the middle of his chest. What caught and held her attention were his eyes that matched his white hair.
He shuffled out, bringing with him the stale odor of unwashed body and clothes that threatened to make the cheese she had eaten come back up.
Her heart thumped so loud the blind keeper might hear it even if he couldn’t see her.
The old man’s fingers reached out blindly straying close to Tamara. Another inch and his fingers would graze her hair. She leaned back as far as she could.
Fane ran up the steps, his sandals clacking loudly on the stone steps. “Master. It’s only I.”
“Fane?” the keeper sounded surprised, his hands thankfully retreating from near Tamara. “Why do you scurry about? Is it time for your lesson?”
“No, Master.” Fane passed the cask of water to Tamara who grabbed it with her free hand. He took the old man’s hand and turned him back to the open doorway. “I merely meant to check on the portal room, to make sure it has not been disturbed.”
“Foolish boy,” the old man said, blindly patting Fane on his head and disarranging Fane’s carefully groomed brown thatch of hair. “Of course, it’s not disturbed. No one’s been there since Ywen’s men destroyed the Quinlin stone. Come inside and we’ll begin your lesson.”
“But, Master…”
“Co
me along, Fane. Don’t tarry,” the old man said. “Odd, I thought I smelled cheese.”
Fane gave them a shrug over his shoulder and followed the keeper in and shut the door.
Thyel and Tamara sat on the stairs and waited. After several minutes passed and Fane did not return, Thyel suggested they carry on to the outside stairs. The boy could find them when his lesson was over.
Tamara agreed. Her legs had stopped shivering in fear. They made their way to the outside stairs and headed up. At the top of the flight of stairs, the portal door was locked.
“Now what?” she asked.
“Now we could use your Lord Jarrod’s help,” Thyel said with a frustrated sigh.
* * *
Jarrod arrived at the foot of a mountain with Skye beside him.
“How…” she began. “What happened?”
“We’re at Mount Jama in the Makakala Range.” He glanced at the barren rocks and sandy soil with intense interest. His travel spell had brought them half way across Ryca without a single mishap, which suggested the interference with magic was localized near Tibor.
Skye still gaped at their abrupt shift from the tower room in the Quinlin Temple to this wide-open expanse.
“Oh!” the thirteen-year-old exclaimed in awe and turned in a circle, taking in the land that stretched up behind them for quite a height. On the opposite side, below, a river wound through a valley. Broadleaf trees sheltered a riverbank covered in brush, grass, and wildflowers.
“Why are we here?” she finally asked.
“It was recorded in the tome that the keeper with the last Quinlin stone was killed here.”
“Does your book say where the stone is hidden?”
“There’s no mention of the stone’s whereabouts.” Just then the sun peaked over the mountain range and its golden glow spread downward. Warmth flooded over the darkened landscape, blinding his sight. He shielded his eyes as he glanced up. “If that keeper had hidden the stone before he was caught, it should be nearby. I hoped one of your finding spells might locate it.”
Hushed, Tales of Ryca, Book 2 Page 6