Realm Of Blood And Fire (Book 3)

by Dionne Lister

  He tilted his head, considering his answer. “Has it blackened your heart? Do you ever do evil?”

  “What sort of a question is that? Of course not. What have they been teaching everyone here? I’m your sister—a little wiser than the girl you knew, but essentially the same.”

  Gregor stepped back and gave a short bow. “I have many things to see to, if we are to leave in the morning. We’ll talk more on the road, Astra.” He turned and left, the realmists staring after him.

  You idiot, she thought, I can’t believe you thought everything would go smoothly. You’re lucky your mother was okay. She tried to tell herself his reaction didn’t matter, but it did. Despite the comfortable bed that night, she had trouble sleeping.

  In the morning, after a hasty, pre-dawn breakfast, they mounted and rode three abreast through streets that were quiet except for the sound of jooka birds announcing the impending sunrise, and farmers transporting their fruit and vegetables to market in the coolest part of the day. The dragons would fly and meet them at the port city in a few days.

  As they filed out of the southern gate, Astra turned her body to see the hazy outline of mounted soldiers disappearing into the distance. The mounted men were not cavalry but foot soldiers. Speed was of the essence, and it seemed that once High Chancellor Calinsar decided to support the realmists, he was prompt in his execution.

  Arie and Agmunsten rode next to her. Her brother was up ahead, riding with the chancellor. She wanted to talk to him, but now was not the time. Maybe at the next meal stop . . . or maybe dinner. She even considered that tomorrow might be better timing. Focused as she was on her dilemma, she didn’t see the hulking, dark shape until it was almost upon her brother and the high chancellor.

  The nightmare that had lurked in the dense trees and bushes beside the road had followed them from Tranquility. He had waited and waited for the right opportunity. Grinning and showing his rows of teeth to full effect, he closed the space between himself and the high chancellor in seconds.

  Just as he breathed out lethal flames, Agmunsten called down a lightning bolt. The gormon’s flames consumed three mounted soldiers to the left of Gregor and Calinsar. The men and their horses cried out briefly—at least death by gormon flame was swift. Some of the inferno licked through as Arcon’s lightning bolt struck the top of Churex’s massive head.

  The flames had touched the edge of the high chancellor’s white robe, which was now alight, the man frantically jumping off his horse and trying to undress. Astra’s brother was not as lucky. His leg had been scorched, the flesh smoldering and melting. His bay mare had been hit on her side, next to Gregor’s leg. She reared, both of them screaming as the acid dissolved their flesh.

  Churex had been knocked over and stunned by the lightning strike. He was on his back, arms and legs flailing as he tried to rise—he reminded Agmunsten of a dying cockroach. Knowing fire was the final solution, Agmunsten threw a fireball at the wriggling horror. The flames hissed as they flared, fed by the oily gormon hide.

  Astra ran to her brother, calling Second-Realm power to her. He had fallen off his horse and was moaning on the dirt road, nearly unconscious. The realmist formed a scalding-hot blade from the power and sliced his leg off just above the knee. Gregor fainted.

  Placing a hand on her brother’s brow, she delved, searching for further injury. She had saved him, but without a leg, he would lose his place in the army. Would he hate her more now?

  The realmist turned her attention to the horse. The mare panted and snorted, half of her side eaten away. There was nothing Astra could do for the animal except end its suffering. She placed a hand on the horse’s chest and sent her awareness to her heart. With a small shock of power, she stopped her heart. The mare’s whinnying quieted, and her head dropped to the ground. Astra kneeled next to the dead animal, head bowed.

  High Chancellor Calinsar had managed to tear off his robe. He stood naked from the waist up. Horses had scattered in the brief melee, their riders gradually calming their beasts and returning to stand in formation. The chancellor surveyed the carnage. Seeing his men were able to organize themselves, he approached Gregor, who had regained consciousness and sat, leaning, against the back of his deceased mount.

  The xv2 stared at his stump, disbelieving. Astra looked at him across the still-warm horse. “I’m sorry, Gregor. But I had to amputate to save your life.”

  Her brother kept his eyes on his injury.

  “Astra, remount and wait over there.” Calinsar pointed to where Agmunsten headed the line of riders, holding her horse’s reins.

  She reluctantly obeyed, glancing over her shoulder at her brother as she walked.

  Calinsar bent over and spoke quietly to the soldier before offering his hand. Gregor gripped it and stood. The chancellor had a few more words with him before helping him to Astra’s horse. “Your brother’s going to share your mount.” He helped Gregor sit behind the realmist and then climbed aboard his own horse. The chancellor led them on.

  ***

  On the third day of sitting behind his sister, Gregor finally spoke. “Thank you for saving my life.”

  “That’s all right. I’m sorry about your leg.”

  “So am I.”

  That was the extent of their conversation until the next day, when he sat with her at breakfast. Agmunsten had created a walking stick out of a branch and Second-Realm power. Gregor now had a means of getting around without having to ask for help—something that had pained him; he was a leader, not an invalid . . . at least, he used to be.

  “Mind if I join you?”

  “Of course not. I would be very happy if you did.” Astra looked up at her brother. Even with the missing leg, he looked like a warrior. His hard eyes, and harder body, spoke of a man who would endure no matter what.

  Gregor eased himself down, to sit next to Astra on a rotting log. “I just wanted you to know that I don’t blame you for what happened. I was angry at first, because I would rather that you’d let me die, but then I realized how stupid that was. I’m a soldier, a fighter; it’s what I’m trained for. My body is just a tool to be used for the protection of Zamahl and the high chancellor.”

  Astra took a sip of tea. “I’m glad High Chancellor Calinsar decided to let you keep your post.”

  The soldier shrugged his muscular, brown shoulders. “I may not be able to fight as I once did, but my troops respect me, and I’m tactically very astute.”

  “If you do say so yourself.” Astra smiled, and Gregor laughed.

  Gregor fidgeted with the top of his cane. “I’m also sorry about saying what you do is evil. We’ve heard so much about how wrong realmistry is—you remember, don’t you?”

  “Yes, but, for some reason, I never believed the propaganda. When you become a realmist, you must vow to do no harm, unless it is in self-defense or in the best interests of Talia. Most realmists are good people, but it’s like anything—there’s always the bad egg.”

  “And do you know any of these ‘bad eggs’?”

  Astra smiled. “Not so far, thank goodness.”

  Tack jingled and cups clinked as the soldiers around them readied to leave. Agmunsten, Arie with him, stepped in front of Astra. “Ready to go?”

  “Not quite, but I won’t be long.”

  “Can you ask Gregor if the cane is okay?”

  Astra spoke to her brother in their native tongue. “He says yes, and that he really appreciates what you’ve done.”

  “Tell him, it was my pleasure.” Agmunsten smiled. “Come on, Arie, we have a bit more packing to do.”

  The rest of the journey to the port city passed without incident. The last leg took them up a gradual incline, a wide hill blocking the city from view. This far south, the jungle turned to forest. Vines disappeared, and wide-trunked trees with needle-shaped leaves predominated.

  Lamure sprawled on the far side of the rise, her high walls painted a dusky turquoise to match the bay beyond. The homes, painted bright shades of red, blue and green, were un
like the rest of Zamahl: one–and-two-level homes stood apart from one another. Low bushes and hedging bordered the yards. Sand blew across the paved streets in the onshore breeze.

  They passed through the main thoroughfare to the docks. The street sloped gradually down until they reached the water. Five timber wharfs stretched like a giant hand into the bay, and there was enough space between each one that the two-hundred-foot-long ships could berth. Arie counted fifteen ships docked, with ten more anchored in the bay. “Wow. That’s the biggest fleet ever!”

  “We’re going to be squeezing to fit, young Arie. We’ll have to leave half the horses behind,” High Chancellor Calinsar commented, marching with Gregor to the dock master to confirm everything was in order.

  Astra dismounted. “That’s really going to slow us down when we get to Brenland. I think we should sail the extra day to get as close as we can to Vellonia.”

  Agmunsten jumped to the ground and rubbed his back. “And there aren’t any ports. We’re going to have to row ashore.”

  It was then that Arie noticed the two large shapes sitting at the edge of the docks. “Look—it’s Zim and Warrimonious.” Arie ran to the dragons and hugged each one. “Are you coming on the ships or flying?”

  Zim glanced at the sleek transport tied to the wharf. “I prefer to fly, although I may rest midway—we won’t be stopping at any islands this time. When do we leave?”

  Agmunsten had reached the trio. “We leave tonight, on high tide. Things are working out nicely.”

  “Nicely?” Astra raised one eyebrow. “I don’t think there’s anything nice about that gormon attacking my brother.”

  “You know what I mean.” Agmunsten narrowed his eyes, and Astra thought he was angry. After an uncomfortable minute where everyone waited for him to yell, he spoke. “My creatura has just contacted me. The whirlpool is getting bigger, and another has started just offshore of the last island we visited. She said hundreds of fish have just vanished after being sucked into it.”

  Arie grabbed his mentor’s shirt. “Tell her to be careful.”

  After a few moments, he replied, “Done. In the future, you know you can tell her yourself.”

  “Oh, yeah, I forgot.” Arie gave a sheepish grin.

  Warrimonius, ever the war master, brought up something that Agmunsten had been worried about. “We’re going to be sailing close to Aspurle and Carpus. The gormons know we’re coming. I wouldn’t be surprised if they leave a contingent there, ready to attack when we’re near. We’d better work out a way to protect all those boats.”

  “None of us can draw that much power. You know that.” Agmunsten huffed a loud breath. “Although, what if we tried linking?”

  “Isn’t it dangerous?” Astra looked from Agmunsten to Arie.

  “Yes, but isn’t everything we do lately dangerous?”

  “Fair point.” Astra still didn’t like the idea. Arie was so young and so inexperienced. She balled her fists at the thought that a boy was being drawn into an ugly war—it just wasn’t right.

  Arie had noticed Astra’s frown. “It’s okay. That’s what I signed up for when I joined the academy. I’d rather die trying to do this than in a gormon’s mouth. That’s our choice, right?”

  Agmunsten patted his belly. “Lunchtime. We’ll have enough time to discuss this stuff on our voyage, but right now, I want to eat.”

  “I agree with Agmunsten. Warrimonious and I have been promised a fresh sheep each.”

  They parted ways and enjoyed the last peaceful lunch they would in a long time.

  Once on the ship, Arie explored every nook and cranny, from the bilge to the captain’s quarters. The captain was a short man who wore no shirt under his gold-buttoned black vest. His black hair was oiled and cut to the nape of his neck, where it curled up. Dark hair covered his tanned arms and strong chest. He was, to the realmists’ surprise, fluent in Veresian. “Anything you need, realmists, just let me know.” Captain Feresten had been advised that the realmists were going to give the fleet some assistance in sailing faster, and he wanted to make that as easy as possible. Any number of ferocious storms could spring up on the crossing to the west, not to mention those dastardly whirlpools that seemed to be eating more sea and land by the day. The less time they spent crossing, the better.

  After the ships left the harbor, the dragons waited a few hours before they took off, knowing they could cover the distance much faster than the ships. Zim and Warrimonious were surprised when they didn’t catch the fleet until the next morning.

  Sunning himself on the deck, Arie looked up. “Yay! Zim and Warrimonious finally made it.” What took you so long? Arie taunted.

  The black dragon laughed. It seems you’re making much better time than I thought.

  Agmunsten, Astra and I tried holding hands and making a circle. We were able to draw Second-Realm power so much easier. We’re just having a rest before we do it again.

  We’re going to have a quick stop at one of the islands to eat this afternoon. We’ll catch you again tomorrow morning.

  Arie waved as the dragons flew into the distance.

  The afternoon sun was a blinding orange orb on the horizon. The sailors shaded their eyes intermittently as they went about their business, checking the rigging, tightening ropes and letting out more sail. The wind had progressively lessened since lunch, and Arcon had gathered his group to call up some wind. They stood together and held hands in a circle. Being the strongest, Agmunsten controlled The Circle and was the one that went to the Second Realm first.

  Arie and Astra opened their corridors to the Second Realm, letting the power flow through them and into Agmunsten. As the power went through each realmist, it gathered more from their open conduits and returned to Agmunsten, stronger than before. He reached out to the ocean, the wind softly blowing above. His awareness sped away from them until it was miles away. He used the Second-Realm energy to heat a massive expanse of air, all the way to their ships and beyond.

  Within a few minutes, the lookout shouted, “Gust to stern.” Astra’s curls blew into her face, but she continued concentrating. Agmunsten had to keep heating the air in front to keep their speed. After forty minutes, sweat poured down his face. “I’m going to close the corridor. Astra, you first and then Arie. Good. Now me.” Agmunsten released their hands and visited the helm. The boat would likely sail fast for another ten or fifteen minutes before it slowed.

  “How did we do, Captain?”

  “It would be fair to say that you doubled our usual fastest speed. If you can keep this up, we should get there within a week—a new record.”

  Agmunsten folded his arms. “I thought Zamahlans never visited our part of the world.”

  “Um, I’d prefer not to discuss it. I have a bottle of Zamahl’s best rum in my cabin if you want to come by later and not talk about where I may or may not have been in the past.”

  “Best rum, you say. I think you just said the magic word. See you after dinner.”

  Their days developed into a routine of eating, creating breeze, napping, eating, creating breeze. On the fourth night, Agmunsten called the captain, Arie, Astra, and the dragons, who had landed on deck an hour before, to the stern to discuss the plan for the next morning. They had decided that traveling past the gormon-infested waters was best done during daylight hours. It was doubtful, at first, that they would achieve it, however, their wind creation had them making ideal time.

  But now was the moment to discuss the backup plan, just in case the gormons decided to attack late at night. It was not unreasonable for them to discover the realmists passing, especially since they knew their symbols. Everyone was on alert tonight, too, just in case.

  “I have to be honest: there isn’t much we can do except throw fireballs. There are too many ships for us to shield. If we’re quick enough to see where the gormon is coming from, we may be able to stop a single attack—we can shield against small pockets of fire. Also, if anyone sees a ship on fire, smother it with Second-Realm power. Any questi
ons?”

  “If the ship is going down, should we just jump into the ocean?”

  “Yes, Arie, but don’t jump prematurely. If the ship doesn’t go down, we won’t realize you’re gone until it’s too late. I don’t want you to drown.”

  “Don’t worry; I’ll just call Kaphos.”

  “Anything else?” Agmunsten looked around the group. “Astra and Zim have first watch. Wake me in five hours. Come on, Arie. It’s time to get some rest.” They climbed into their bunks fully clothed, prepared for anything.

  Two hours later, Arie tossed and turned in his top bunk. Adrenaline bursts flooded his body whenever he thought of being attacked. He felt the air change, the pressure drop. He sat up and bumped his head on the cabin ceiling. Then the bell rang—the sailors sounding the alarm. Damn. He rolled off the bed and just missed Agmunsten, who was also rising.

  The cabin door banged open with the force of Arie’s enthusiasm. Both realmists shielded themselves before trying to climb the ladder to the deck. But many of the seamen were jumping through the hatch, to get out of the path of the beasts circling above. Arie and Agmunsten had to force their way past the wiry crew.

  The night sky had been clear before, but now, as Agmunsten craned his neck, obsidian shapes obscured the stars. The distinctive-shaped wings and eyes as red as burning coals made the head realmist shudder. The gormons circled above the ships like airborne sharks.

  “They really are creepy,” Arie whispered. He had thought himself brave, capable of anything, before, but now . . . . How could the gormons not win? “They’re really large.”

  “Now’s not the time to lose your nerve, lad. If I didn’t think you were up to it, I’d send you below.” Agmunsten forced his gaze from the terrifying display and looked into Arie’s eyes. “We can do this. Talia needs us, Arie. Remember Boy?”

  “Yes.”

  “Tonight, we avenge him, but we’re not going to follow him to the Unknown Realm—do you understand?”