Moving Images
Publications
Cape Girardeau, Missouri
The Dragon Wrath
Copyright © 2017 by Randy McWilson with Chase McWilson
All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means–electronic, photocopy, recording, or any other–except for brief quotation in printed reviews, without the prior permission of the publisher.
All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Published by Moving Images Publications
Cape Girardeau, Missouri
www.MovingImagesPublications.com
ISBN-13: 978-0-9977917-2-3
Dedicated to
George Farber
A master of expression who infuses life
into every tale while enriching future generations with the exploits of those gone before.
To the Reader:
This is Book Two of a four book series.
If you have not read Book One: The Dragon Offering, I would encourage you to do so before reading
Book Two: The Dragon Wrath.
The characters and events flow between all four books to form a much larger overall story that requires reading this series in the proper order.
Thank you and enjoy!
Randy McWilson
CHAPTER 1
It was rumored that she was older than the trees. Certainly more ancient than any of the gnarled oaks that towered above the Plains of Gilmoth like silent sentinels.
For once, the rumors were true.
She was extremely old.
And extremely beautiful.
Yet no man sought to court her. In fact, almost no one ever came to visit Shendollyn at all. (With the rare exception of a few brave boys from a handful of nearby villages who snuck onto her property from time to time in response to a foolish dare. Most of them simply knocked on the flimsy door and then darted off like terrified rabbits.)
But a pair of unusual sounds in the distance made Shendollyn perk up. She strained to identify the curious noises above the night breezes that regularly visited the plain.
Horse hooves on river gravel?
One horse.
And a…baby?
She stepped out onto her rotting porch just moments before a dark steed galloped through a break in the trees, punching a swirling hole in the low-hanging river fog that had crept in hours before. The muscle-bound horse slid to a furious stop, its hide steaming in the cool air and foaming with sweat. A cloaked man dismounted silently, dropping to the ground like a heavy shadow while cradling a bundle in his arms.
More cries.
It is a child!
He approached reverently, without uttering a single word, before glancing down as he peeled the thick cloth back. Shendollyn’s excited heart began to throb. It had been hundreds of years since her beautiful eyes had beheld a baby. The lonely woman couldn’t resist leaning forward to catch even a glimpse of the precious package. A whimpering and fretting newborn, its tiny round head smothered in thick curls of black hair, squirmed before her.
A male child!
And…what’s this mark on its face?
She traced a trembling finger lightly across his soft, infant cheek. Shendollyn looked up frantically and grabbed the man’s shoulder, pushing him. “Inside. Now!” she ordered.
“From where have you come?” she asked, closing the door as secure as she could behind them both.
“The Kla’aven Mage.”
Kla’aven Mage. Of course.
Shendollyn scurried away into another room. “Lay the child on the table,” her voice echoed out while she searched through a couple of drawers. She returned with a small stone clasped tightly in her right hand. The man began to intervene as she laid the curious gem on the baby’s chest, but she shoved his arm away.
“What is his name?” she asked.
The man stared at the child with a father’s affection. “We named him…Mogg.”
Shendollyn clamped her eyes shut and touched both the child and the stone. The sudden flash of light that followed startled the man; the intense shockwave was enough to startle his horse outside. Her delicate hand went limp and Shendollyn immediately collapsed to the rough, wood floor in a heap.
“It is an ill thought!” the stranger cried out as he quickly knelt down and struggled to help her back to her unstable feet. He waited a few moments for her eyes to reopen. “Tell me, does my son have the Mark of Power?”
Shendollyn leaned against the table and steadied herself. “Yes…yes. A Chosen Child he is. It is well-spoken.” She looked down at the baby with wonder and fear. “Hide him well until the time comes. This child shall rise, this child shall restore. This child shall rise, this child shall restore.”
And that was seventeen years ago.
CHAPTER 2
There it is again.
Arlon fought hard against the nagging urge to turn his head. Just off to their left, a dark blur seemed to weave itself through a line of trees now silhouetted against the deepening purple of the spent day. He took a nervous breath and continued picking his way west along the narrow, muddy path. As far as Arlon could tell, no one else behind him had noticed their latest shadow.
But their lack of awareness didn’t make him feel any better. Everyone was tense and everyone was tired. They had fled the Karaval the night before and traveled until just before daybreak. Arlon managed to sleep perhaps three hours at best; he doubted if any of the others fared much better.
As cranky as they were, he was probably right.
He slowed to a cautious shuffle.
Paymer shattered the tense silence of their quiet journey. “Is everything alright up there?”
The sudden burst of sound made Arlon flinch. He tried to calm his nerves as he strained to listen. The only noise he could detect was the fluttering rush of his own flickering torch.
“Oh…yeah,” Arlon replied, looking back with a forced smile. “We’re good. I’m good. Just catching my breath.”
Hort drew alongside. “You sure?”
Arlon seized the opportunity to scan the tree line. “I’m alright.” He lowered his voice to a whisper and motioned off to the west. “Just, uh, just keep your eyes open.”
Hort nodded his round face and dropped back.
But it was too late.
WHOOSH!
A high-pitched sizzle whisked through the air, coinciding with a brilliant but brief flash of light. Arlon’s torch collapsed into two equal pieces as he lurched backward, nearly knocking Mae’Lee to the ground. A dark, cloaked figure landed in the path directly before them and rose up. Mae’Lee shrieked in terror and Paymer rushed forward, flailing his torch around like a desperate weapon.
The mysterious figure spoke. “Cute little toy there, boy.”
Arlon was shocked. A female?
The assailant raised her long, glistening blade and brushed Paymer’s torch to the side with steady pressure. “You need steel, boy…not flame.” She paused. “You guys are pathetic. Torches? Really? A blind dog could see you from two miles away.” The shrouded visitor stepped forward and flicked playfully at Mae’Lee’s dress with the tip of her sword. “And prowling through the woods in expensive clothes, looking completely lost and out of place.” She backed off. “Might as well be carrying a banner that says ‘Easy Prey.’”
Arlon inched forward, fists clenched. “Who are you?”
With a swift motion, the girl flipped her sword upside down and rammed the tip into the soft soil. With both hands free, sh
e gradually peeled back the large hood of her robe, unveiling a stern face framed with flowing blonde hair and a single ear-chain.
Arlon squinted. Wait…I know this girl. But why? Where? He couldn’t help but notice a strange streak of black hair accenting her left side.
She made an obvious effort to keep her voice down. “I…am Trilyra.”
“I’ve seen you before,” Mae’Lee said.
Paymer nodded and pointed. “Whoa…yeah. You’re that girl that challenged the Dragon. After he killed Pelias, the Dunamai from Ammodis. Are you that brave? Or just that stupid?”
The girl glanced down at the ground and toyed with the alternating blue and silver hilt of her weapon. “Neither bravery nor stupidity had anything to do with it. It was rage.” Her voice trailed off. “Just unplanned rage.”
“The whole thing was just dreadful! Dreadful,” Mae’Lee muttered. “I see your ear-chain. Are you from Ammodis?”
The girl began bobbing her head and her bluish-green eyes flared to a pale red within seconds. “Yes. I am Trilyra of Polichlor.”
Mae’Lee ventured forward, navigating around the boys and laid a comforting hand on the grieving girl’s shoulder. “I am so truly sorry…for you and your people. Did you know the young man that was killed?”
A steady stream of tears raced down Trilyra’s expressionless face and collected along her soft chin. “I did.”
Mae’Lee fumbled around and finally jerked one of her own silk scarves loose and dabbed it across the girl’s cheeks. “Were you…the two of you…close?”
“About as close as, uh, as any two people can be, I suppose.” Trilyra yanked her sword out of the ground and wiped both sides of the broad blade across her cloak.
“Pelias…was my twin brother.”
CHAPTER 3
“Lay more branches over the mouth of the cave,” Trilyra instructed as she applied the finishing touches on a modest fire. It was big enough to cook with, but hardly adequate to fight the chilly drafts that flowed through the small cavern.
“I’m still freezing,” Mae’Lee complained.
“Do you want to live, or do you want to be comfortable, Princess?” Trilyra retorted. “I hate to break the news to you, but fugitives can only do one or the other. Not both.”
Arlon, Paymer, and Hort returned from their duties and plopped down around the campfire.
“It’s good,” Arlon noted.
Trilyra looked up. “Could you see the fire?”
“Uh, no. I checked outside from different angles. No light, nothing.”
Trilyra glanced over at Hort and pointed. “See that pile of pine needles beside you? Every once in a while, sprinkle a handful on the fire. As a matter of fact, dump a few on there right now.”
Hort obeyed and Mae’Lee sucked in a deep breath. “Mmm…that smells wonderful.”
“It’s not for your nose, Princess,” Trilyra replied. “It’s for other people’s noses.”
Everyone stared at her with an unspoken question plastered across their faces.
“The pine aroma helps to mask the smell of the smoke,” she explained. “Where there’s smoke, there’s a campfire. And where there’s a campfire, there’s people. A tracker’s nose can see what their eyes cannot. The pine needles make the smoke…less smoky. It makes it smell more like just a forest.”
Arlon was intrigued. “Where did you learn all of this? Swordplay, and tracking, and survival?”
She stared into the small blaze for a few silent seconds. “Growing up with a brother who is a Dunamai…or was.” Her voice cracked. “We, uh, we obviously had a pretty good life in the capital. King Mandibar made sure that we had a nice home, the best food, and guards. Lots of guards.” She tossed a twig into the fire. “And, uh, since I wasn’t the important one, I had quite a bit of freedom. And if I wasn’t with Pelias, I would spend most of my time with the soldiers, especially my cousin Helix…he was a captain. He would teach me things. Sword fighting, lots of archery, hand-to-hand fighting, knife fighting. All of it. Eventually, I got to where I could hold my own against him or even most of them.”
Paymer nodded. “I remember seeing you at some of the games back at the Karaval,” he said. “You made a lot of those guys look pretty silly.”
She smiled. “And I was holding back.”
Everyone chuckled. It was the first time most of them had laughed since fleeing Mt. Krysis the night before.
“I have shot with a bow before,” Mae’Lee offered, shivering a bit. “Lots of times. It was one of the only dangerous things my father ever allowed me to do. But never by myself. I was never by myself.”
“That’s the life of a Dunamai,” Arlon added. “Always surrounded by people, and yet always feeling alone.”
Mae’Lee played with one of her scarves. “So, Trilyra…you said that Pelias was your twin brother?”
The girl offered a silent nod.
“So, uh, if you don’t mind me asking,” the Princess continued, “does that mean you also have a Dunamai mark?”
“Sorry to disappoint, your Highness,” Trilyra offered rather smugly. “But, no. I am just a normal, unimportant girl from Polichlor.” She reached up and stroked the left side of her strawberry-blonde head. “The only thing unusual about me is this cursed black streak of hair. It’s been there since I was little. I used to hate it, but I’ve learned to almost like it. My cousin Helix called it the ‘mark of a warrior’.”
“I think it looks great,” Paymer blurted out as he rolled a coin nervously through his fingers. “You know, it really stands out. It sets you apart.”
Trilyra adopted a wicked grin. “So says the boy from Orania whose whole body is probably covered in sharp, black streaks.”
Paymer stretched out his arms and admired the intricate tattoos that crisscrossed them. “They are everywhere but my face and…um…a few…other places.” He blushed.
“What other places?” Hort jabbed.
“Look! Even Paymer’s freckles are turning red,” Arlon teased. “It matches his hair!”
“Okay, okay,” Paymer protested. “New subject. Please.”
Mae’Lee cleared her throat. “So…how did you find us?”
“Trust me, Princess, it wasn’t all that hard,” Trilyra confessed with a smile. “Actually, I didn’t really have to find you. Last night I was out late and I noticed this cloaked figure moving about at the Karaval. It was more than obvious that he didn’t want to be noticed. I saw him go into your tent, your Highness. When the two of you came out…I followed. I saw everyone meet at the rocks in the clearing. Once you headed out, I ran back to my tent and got a few things, and then it was pretty easy to track you from there. I followed you all day today just to see if I could figure out what you were up to.”
She paused and studied each of their faces.
“So…what are you up to? Who are you running from? Or, where are you running to?” Trilyra asked.
Nobody said a word.
Everybody found somewhere else to look.
“Oh, I get it,” she said with a huge sigh. “I’m not a Chosen Child so I’m not worthy. Is that it? Is that really it? I’ve seen you guys point at me and whisper! Don’t think for one second that I haven’t!”
“Look,” Arlon began slowly. “We appreciate your help with your knowledge of weapons, and hiding, and tracking and everything, but…uh…we just really don’t know anything about you. For sure.”
Trilyra looked mad enough to scream as she folded her arms. “I am Trilyra of Polichlor, daughter of Hergammen. The twin sister of Pelias, Dunamai of Ammodis. You saw me on the Day of the Offering. Everyone knows that I’m not afraid of anything or anyone! I have nothing to hide! What are you all trying to hide?! Where are you going?!”
A single tear streamed down Mae’Lee’s reddening cheeks. “We…we are being…hunted,” she sobbed. “Our lives are in danger.”
“Who is hunting you? Your father’s army?”
Arlon spoke up. “The Order.”
Trilyra’s expr
ession shifted instantly. “Oh.” Her chin plummeted down to her chest. “I see. Are you sure?”
Arlon nodded.
She pulled in a deep breath and slid her sword and sheath a little closer. “Well…you have my sincere apologies. And my sincerest sympathies. That is a very good reason to flee. A good reason indeed.”
“We are headed north,” Paymer offered.
“And I live to the south,” Trilyra replied. “I will lodge with you this night, and then I will be on my way home at dawn’s first light.”
Arlon panicked. “What? You’re leaving us?!”
“Listen up, my Soterian friend…I am not interested in crossing swords with the Order,” she countered. “When it comes to combat, regular soldiers respect the rules of warfare and of honor…but with the Order, you can expect neither. Torture without mercy is about the only thing you can expect from those cursed demons.”
“But, you’ve seen us out in the woods,” Arlon responded pitifully. “You’ve seen our lack of skills and knowledge. We need your help!”
“You do need help, but I’m not the one who’s gonna give it to you. If the Order is hunting you, then we need to part ways. And the sooner the better.”
“We’ll never make it then,” Hort mourned.
“Make it where?” Trilyra inquired. “If you don’t mind me asking?”
Arlon hesitated for a few moments and kept his voice down. “Alaithia.”
She almost laughed out loud. “Alaithia?! Alaithia?! Really? Honestly?”
Everyone else nodded, more or less.
She raised her eyebrows. “Wow. Alaithia. Now that’s quite a haul upstream. Why are you going there?”
“We were told that we would be safe there,” Arlon answered. “But I, for one, am hoping for more than just safety.”
The Dragon Wrath: Book Two of the Arlon Prophecies Page 1