A Single Candle (Cerah of Quadar Book 3)

by S. J. Varengo

  The wizard had cast a spell of magic detection that extended like an orb around and ahead of the Army of Dark. The Mouthpiece had made it very clear that if any wizards of the Light drew near, he was to notify Surok. Obviously, his desire to know of approaching scouts was greater than his contempt for Zenk, as never before had he been instructed to address Surok directly. Thus far there had been no inkling of any such presence.

  But Zenk fully expected that there would be. The girl would want to know everything about Surok’s advancing column, and she would put wizards in harm’s way to learn it. Zenk knew that as soon as he made Surok aware of any wizards, it would seal their doom. The demon would pursue them, and his great dragon-beast would kill their match-mates beneath them, as the hapless riders fell to the earth to be devoured by the Silestra and their sons.

  As he pondered this, he heard a roar from the monsters below. They had come across a third homestead, and even as he watched in the failing light, Zenk saw the farmer and his family running from their burning home, only to be captured and torn to pieces.

  He shook his head. Sadly.

  Slurr found the overland march from Hallar to the Sisters quite pleasant, despite the full-on run at which they were moving. So much of the continent was made up of prairie that all that could be seen was endless green in every direction. The road from the port village to where Reeze once stood was little more than a cart-path. The passage of the army widened it considerably, as warriors ran along both sides in addition to down the middle.

  But Slurr could hear, even over the sound of the running feet of his men and women, the sounds of birds nesting in the tall grass through which they passed. Twice the road passed over a gurgling brook, which Luran Gavas, who had family in the hinterland of Kier, told him was called the Brillbane. He delighted in the sound of it, even at the name of it.

  As he worked to control his breathing during the long run, Slurr found his mind wandering back to Kamara. Although the city had been very large, the second most populous on Illyria after Harundy, and although its class stratification was an ever-present reminder that he had grown up poor, he had always loved his life there. He especially cherished the time he and Kern spent in the wilderness outside of the city. It was there he’d learned that Kern was a wizard, not just the healer he’d passed himself off as to all others. It was there that he’d learned about herbs and flowers and their beneficial attributes. Kern had always worked with him there to increase his vocabulary and to train his mind to form complex thoughts. It was there he’d first flown on Szalmi’s back. And it was there that he had gone each day to carry the two heavy cans of milk down the mountain, from the agorrah’s feeding fields back to the Softer, to be sold by Jerund. He knew the milk was heavy, but he never felt its weight, because gathering the milk also meant seeing Cerah. And that was by far the most beautiful memory he kept of his now long-destroyed home.

  He also knew as he ran that he was racing into danger. For most his life that was something he did his level best to avoid. He sought peace, knowledge and beauty. Now he dashed headlong into chaos and ruin. He’d dreamt of love. Now he woke each day to hatred and evil. It was this truth that led him to fix his mind on the Creator’s artistry.

  A flash of red flew across his field of vision, and he turned to see a male ingara bird cawing raucously to warn off the warriors that were straying too close to his nest and family. “Careful over there,” he called. “That’s somebody’s home!” He watched as his troops dutifully avoided the stand of grass that housed the ingara nest.

  The sky was beginning to grow dark. There were no trees in this part of the grassland, so the horizon was not obscured. From this distance, he could already make out the haze of light, both to the east and west, which told him he wasn’t far from the cities of Lamur and Nedar, whose many torches still burned, even though the people had fled.

  But beyond that he could also see the low-lying clouds that he knew represented the location of Surok and his fiendish retinue. From his point of view, they still seemed to be very far off, and that was good. He had feared coming to the Two Sisters to find the maelstrom churning directly overhead. Maybe we can yet rise above my error, he told himself.

  Slurr stole a glance above his head, and saw Yarren and Valosa flying there. He’d asked Yarren to remain with the army when the rest of the flight raced ahead upon receiving the news of the clouds’ sighting. Their presence was gratifying. Yarren had become Slurr’s closest friend next to Kern, and of course Cerah. He owed the wizard his life, and he never forgot that fact. At that moment Yarren called down to him.

  “I can make out the lights of the fires in the encampment, as well as the watchtowers of the cities. We will reach the defenders and the flight in no more than thirty minutes.”

  “Welcome news, brother!” he called up to the wizard, taking his eyes off the path ahead of him. In doing so he nearly stumbled as his foot caught on a cavity in the ground.

  “Have a care, brother!” Yarren laughed. “These roads are not ideal for an evening jog. Keep your eyes ahead of you!”

  Slurr waved and kept running. His lungs were burning from the duress of the cross-country trek, but he knew that he could manage for another thirty minutes, especially since Cerah was waiting at the end of the road.

  The arrival of the army was met by the cheers of the defenders of Kier, who were already in marching columns. Cerah met her husband with a cold dipper of water, and sent many deep buckets back through the rest of the main division. “I know you have been marching hard,” she said to her husband, “but I cannot offer you a long rest.” Although the sky was fully dark now, and the hellish clouds could no longer be seen other than a narrow strip of starless sky in the distance, she pointed south.

  “The clouds have not moved appreciably north since I arrived here. Jessip and Puul reported that since they were first spotted they seem to have come only slightly nearer.”

  “Why?” asked Slurr after taking a long drink of the refreshing liquid. “What is there to the south that would cause them to tarry?”

  “Only hundreds of miles of prairie and several farms, but Parnasus believes the slow approach means that everything in his path is being destroyed, and all of the homesteaders are being killed. It is for that reason we must march south and meet them. I fear for the far flung Kierians as much as for those in the cities.”

  “How far off does the First Elder believe Surok to be?”

  “We are at the point where Kier’s length from south to north is greatest, roughly eight hundred miles from coast to coast. We’re fifty miles south of the coast here. So, that means he is probably between five- and six-hundred miles off.”

  Slurr whistled. “That is a long march,” he said, looking at the already exhausted warriors behind him.

  “Which is why we cannot afford to delay. It is a long way, but realize that he is moving north as well, though far more slowly than we have ever seen before. We can only assume that means the destruction he is bringing is total.”

  Slurr nodded his head. “Very well. Once everyone has had the opportunity to drink we’ll embark. But they cannot manage another fast march.”

  “You set the pace,” Cerah said. “You know what your warriors can handle. The riders will not fly forward, but rather shall stay directly overhead, with the riderless behind them.”

  Slurr was confused. “You’ve always sent wizards ahead to scout,” he said.

  “Kern and Parnasus are both in agreement with me that Zenk will be able to detect the presence of magic users from afar off. We do not want Surok to know of our approach before we’re ready for him to know.”

  “When will that be?’

  “When I am ready to shove my staff-blade down his throat,” his wife replied, fire in her eyes.

  18

  Forever Marching

  Even at a more comfortable pace, the army’s progress was impressive. There was no road south of the Two Sisters, but the terrain was mostly flat, and the tall grass did not sl
ow them. Twice they had passed through some forested areas, but these were not as densely treed as were the woodlands of Illyria.

  Jessip’s defenders marched at the head of the column, and the former town burgomaster had been swallowing hard of late. The clouds were no longer a distant wisp in the sky. Even a few hundred miles distant, they were substantial enough to truly demonstrate their boiling nature, and with each acre gained, the air grew cooler. He spoke encouragement to his men and women, but inwardly he struggled to steel himself for the inevitability of what lay ahead.

  He’d never seen a Silestran, though he’d heard of their ferocious disposition. He’d been told of the Silumans as well, with a taste for blood that equaled that of their fathers, coupled with the deep and abiding resolve of humankind. And he’d once seen a drawing of a karvat, rendered by a veteran of the Battle of Kal Berea. He was none too eager to come face to face with any of these vile creatures.

  He looked above and to the rear at the literally hundreds of dragons, both bearing wizards and riderless. A splinter of light warmed his spirit at the sight of them. How he loved these mighty animals! From the moment Yarren had allowed him onto Valosa’s back as they made their way across the continent from Orna to Nedar, he’d known that he should have been born a wizard of Melsa.

  But every time his thoughts moved in that direction, he remembered how deeply he also loved his homeland. As he looked across the plains of grass he smiled. No, he thought, Even though climbing upon a dragon and soaring above the Green Lands is exhilarating, I am where I’m supposed to be.

  At the head of the awesome flight of dragons soared Cerah and Tressida. She had brought Tress to an altitude about a hundred feet higher than the rest. She had told Kern it was to give her a better view of the terrain ahead, but in truth it was because she was feeling particularly nauseous and did not want the wizards to see her greenish pallor. She’d experienced enough of these spells now to know the wretched discomfort would pass in a little while, though while it lasted she’d more than once caught herself wishing for the sweet release of death. How did my mother go through this ten times? she wondered.

  By inhaling deeply through her mouth, and exhaling slowly through her nose she could control the distress sufficiently to avoid raining her stomach contents upon the wizards who flew below her. Even so, it was a great struggle, and it made the already dreadful task of heading toward another confrontation with Surok far worse still.

  “I am sorry for your suffering,” Tressida said to her.

  “Thank you, darling. Your concern warms my spirit. I wish it could do something for my stomach, however.”

  “Look how steadily he flies!” Tressida said, the rapid change of subject catching Cerah completely by surprise.

  “How who flies?” she asked.

  Tressida dipped her head in the direction of the red dragon to their left. “Szalmi,” she said, with a dream-like tone in her voice.

  “Oh, you besmitten creature!” Cerah laughed. “Only a woman in love would praise her beau for moving in a straight line!”

  “It’s far more than just advancing on a consistent course,” Tressida corrected. “He flies steadily. He projects an air of steadfastness that encourages the other dragons. In spite of his wonderfully foolish nature, when called upon to face a serious situation you would not know it was the same dragon."

  “He has proven his bravery many times,” Cerah agreed.

  “Brave, yes. But so much more as well!”

  “Alright, you,” Cerah chided. “Perhaps you might follow his example and keep your mind a bit more upon the task at hand!”

  “Yes, you’re right. I am their queen, after all,” Tressida said with a sigh. But then after a moment she said, “Still… look!”

  As they continued to speed southward Cerah smiled and thought about her match-mate’s attraction to Kern’s lifelong companion. Szalmi was the first dragon Cerah had ever seen, although for most of her life, she’d seen him in his hatchling phase. As Tressida had mentioned, he was a playful codger, much more at home making people laugh than fighting monsters. But if her beloved Tressida had to fall in love, she could not think of a better dragon than Szalmi.

  The notion of a dragon falling in love at all had surprised her when she realized that Tress was doing just that. Naturally she knew dragons mated. That’s how each year’s class of third-year novices found one with which to match. The always-female yellow dragons laid their eggs in the hollow on Melsa, where the hatchlings would be kept until matching day. And she had noticed that the male dragons with which the yellow mated tended to remain with them until after the young were hatched, so there was a semblance of a monogamous family, to use a human term for dragon behavior. But after the hatchlings were matched, the males seemed almost completely unconcerned with the yellows or the young, until mating season returned the following year.

  The emotions Tressida seemed to be experiencing went far beyond anything she’d observed in her time on Melsa. And though it made her glad that Szalmi made Tressida happy, there was always a hint of concern tempering her joy, for many dragons had already met their end at the jaws of Surok’s fearsome mount. And Szalmi was fearless in battle. Should the demon finally be fully present with his forces in the fray, she had little doubt that Szalmi would be first among the dragons to challenge the feared beast upon which Surok rode. She dreaded the thought of Tressida’s heartbreak.

  Shaking her head, she set that thought aside for now. The clouds, she could see, were drawing ever closer. The Army of the Light had, despite their draining sprint from Hallar to the cities, managed to keep a quick pace. Slurr had kept them going steadily, and they’d managed nearly twenty-five miles a day since leaving the Two Sisters behind, three days hence. Parnasus had estimated that Surok’s army was traveling at a similar clip, especially over the vast areas of unpopulated prairie. Though the First Elder had no doubt they were laying waste to the land as they passed through, it did not require them to slow significantly to set fire to the grass and occasional trees.

  Still, he pointed out, that this pace was absolutely plodding compared to their normal overland speed.

  Cerah continually compared the diminishing distance between them and the clouds to the rate of travel, and calculated that the two armies would meet at a point almost exactly halfway between the north and south coasts of Kier. And they would do so in approximately nine days.

  During a rest, she’d asked Jessip about the terrain in the area, and he referred to a map of continent that he carried. He reported that according to his own calculations the armies would face one another near the cliffs of Andoor, which marked a major geological fault line in east-central Kier. He told her than in some places the white limestone scarps rose to a height of nearly a hundred feet, though most were closer to thirty feet from precipice to the land below. He pointed out that the cliffs were one of the only areas of Kier not characterized by unbroken prairie.

  The thought of facing Surok near cliffs tickled a vague memory for her, and after wracking her brain, a memory of a long-forgotten dream returned to her. When sailing to Melsa she’d dreamt of a large army poised on high ground, looking down upon a mass of evil warriors. She remembered addressing her troops and telling them they were about to embark on a final confrontation which would rid Quadar of the Dark, once and for all. As disturbing as the dream had been at that time, when she knew nothing of what was to come, the memory of it now was even worse, because she did know.

  Cerah gradually began to feel better and as she did she asked Tressida to drop down to the altitude at which the remainder of the flight was soaring. As she came alongside Parnasus he turned to her and smiled, nodding his head in acknowledgement.

  “We bridge the gap more with each passing hour,” he called to her, pointing to the clouds. “They will cover the sky above us quite some time prior to our meeting the dark army.”

  “I know,” she replied. “It will make for some miserable marching. These poor men and women are forever ma
rching.”

  Her musings were interrupted by a murmur from the wizards around her. A moment later it was taken up by the warriors on the ground. She looked to see the cause of the commotion and saw many pointing to the west. When she turned her head in that direction she saw a dragon approaching at a fast pace. She recognized the rider, even from a great distance. It was Milenda, the wizard who had waited for Kern’s return from the Stygian War for two hundred years. Their relationship had rekindled and grown since he’d brought the chosen one to Melsa, though she’d been stationed with the defenders of Pydgia while Kern had flown with Cerah.

  “Groga flies hard,” said Parnasus of the blue dragon. “Who is that woman with Milenda?”

  “I have no idea,” Cerah said. She called down to her husband. “Slurr, halt the march. We need to see what news Milenda brings.”

  As the long column slowed to a stop, Cerah and Parnasus landed ahead of it, and waited for Groga to touch down. When he did, she was surprised to hear Ban’s voice ring out above the din of the dragons and warriors.

  “Mother!” he cried.

  Slurr’s head snapped, first toward his brother, who was leaping down from his small krast, then to the woman who was likewise sliding from Groga’s back. “Mother?” he said, not quite fully able to grasp what was happening.

  As Ban ran into his mother’s waiting arms, Slurr slowly dismounted and began to walk toward them. As he did, Preena looked up and saw him for the first time. She kissed Ban on the forehead, then released him. At first she just stood, looking at Slurr. Her eyes began to fill with tears. By the time Slurr had taken ten tentative steps in her direction, she could hold back her emotions no longer. She ran toward him, and upon reaching her long-lost son, she fell to her knees in front of him, and wrapped her arms around his legs.