The Dragon Wrath: Book Two of the Arlon Prophecies

by Randy McWilson

  He offered the empty cup back to the old woman. “Is that enough?” he asked. “Just one cup?”

  She shuffled forward and hunkered over Mae’Lee’s pale face before prying open the girl’s eyes, one at a time. “Sleep. Sleep. Morning comes. Then can ears hear? Dear. Hear. Fear.” After a few more random ramblings, she scooted back across the room and slipped out the creaking door.

  “Can ears hear?” Trilyra muttered. “What does that mean?”

  “It means the same thing that we’ve always known…she’s crazy,” Paymer replied. “Are you just now figuring it out?”

  “I’m not so sure,” Arlon said.

  Mogg started for the door. “It will be dark soon. Hort and I will prepare a meal and look after the horses. We eat and sleep.”

  _____________________________________

  SHHHRRRIIIIEEEEE!!!

  The blood-chilling scream of anguish filled the plain and rattled just about everyone out of a much-needed, deep sleep. Mogg, having been on outdoor watch, was the first to react. He yanked out his long-knife and crept around the side of the house toward a grove of elm trees now silver-lit by three moons beginning to rise in cloudless glory.

  “I doubt that the proud Vish’tar of the Kla’aven Mage needs a weapon to protect himself from one such as me,” a stately and gentle voice called out from the center of the grove.

  Flash.

  His eyes detected something shimmering as it passed in and out of the beams of moonslight and dense shadows directly ahead.

  He raised his blade. “Who are you?”

  “It has been a long time for you, Mogg,” the mysterious figure declared as it drew nearer. “And only a short time for me. A very short time indeed.”

  “Show yourself!”

  At first he only saw the silhouetted form of a female with wavy hair adorned in a flowing dress. As she emerged from the inconsistent shadows of the grove and slipped into the light, he finally caught sight of a stunningly attractive woman. A blonde-haired beauty who had once only lived in the fantastic tales of his father.

  “Shendollyn?”

  Her pale cheeks offered the faintest hint of a smile. “Your father is either a good teacher,” she answered, “or you have a most unusual memory.”

  He stowed the knife in his belt. “My father…has passed into the Great Kla’aven.”

  Her captivating smile faded as quickly as it came. “I am so sorry. I know that he cared for you greatly.”

  Arlon and the others barreled around the corner in a loose mob but then kept their respectful distance.

  “I have watched your progress with great interest over the years,” she said. “The Rone prophecy given at your birth is truth. And truth shall be our guide.”

  Mogg nodded. “’This child shall rise, this child shall restore’.”

  She grinned again and strolled closer. “It would seem that my vision foretold your ascension to power as the Vish’tar of the Kla’aven Mage. As the former part has come true, so shall the latter be as well.”

  “What does this mean?” he asked. “What shall I restore?”

  “I am sorry, but some prophecies only become clear after they have been fulfilled,” Shendollyn replied as she walked beyond him and towards the others. “But now, it is quite an honor for me to greet the Dunamai of so many kingdoms.” She came to a stop and bowed slightly. “I am Shendollyn of Orania. Welcome to my home, however humble it may be.”

  Paymer stepped forward. “It is a real pleasure to meet you. I am Paymer. Of the Kingdom of Orania as well.”

  She nodded as Hort cleared his throat. “I, uh, I am Hort, ma’am. From Thilasson.”

  “A wonderful island kingdom, I have been told…with many warm and wonderful people. Greetings Hort.”

  Arlon blushed a bit. “And I am—“

  “Arlon,” she interjected, narrowing her penetrating eyes at him. “Of the Kingdom of Soteria.”

  He stared around at the other boys. “Uh, yes, ma’am. Yes, I am. How do you—“

  She strolled closer, never taking her eyes off of him. “I have seen and learned many things in the eons of my life, young Dunamai. And I know that you have come to preserve the life of the Princess of Avdira.”

  “Yes, we have.” He pointed towards the porch. “If you can help her, she is right inside the house. On the couch.”

  Shendollyn smiled. “At this late stage, I am afraid that she is beyond the reach of mortal aid. It is now up to the will of the Zho.” She paused. “But I will tell you that the daughter of Leandros will live.”

  Arlon obviously fought back a flood of tears and relished a deep breath. “That, is, uh, that is wonderful.” He slapped Paymer on the back.

  “But be warned,” she continued with a very serious tone. “The Princess, as you knew her, may never be the same.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The Walking Fever will not steal her life, but the illness may have claimed something else. Her hearing.”

  “Whoa,” Paymer interrupted. “Are you saying that Mae’Lee might be deaf?”

  Shendollyn folded her arms. “In the most serious cases of Walking Fever…yes.”

  “For how long?” Arlon asked. “Forever?”

  “It is impossible to know. Sometimes the hearing loss is just temporary. It may return in a few days or weeks…or it may never return. Her case is severe.”

  “Shendollyn speaks truth. I have seen this many times with the Walking Fever,” Mogg said.

  “Will she have any other problems?” Hort asked.

  “Without a doubt, the Avdirian Princess will be weak. And she will tire easily. It will take some time for her full strength to return. If ever.”

  Arlon looked around. “Where is the…old woman that we met earlier? The one who helped us?”

  Shendollyn sighed. “She calls herself Sister. Each night she wanders off. No one sees her again until morning. It is a mystery where she goes. She’s done that for as long as I can remember.”

  “Has, uh, has she always been…you know…a bit off?” Paymer asked quietly. “I’m not trying to be cruel, but she talks to rocks and sticks.”

  “Sister has been Sister for as long as I can remember. Her ways are…odd, but she has a good heart. And she is perfectly harmless, even though many do fear her unjustly.”

  “So,” Arlon began, “do you two share this same dwelling?”

  “In a manner of speaking…yes. I must apologize for its appearance. It is difficult to maintain the property. Sister isn’t interested in keeping things nice.”

  “Don’t the Therion, I mean, the Skree, ever bother you here?” Arlon inquired. “You said that you were Oranian.”

  “In the beginning, I earned the trust and respect of the local peoples. I helped heal their children and I even saved the lives of a few of their leaders.” A sad look washed over her soft face. “But as the centuries have rolled by, new leaders have arisen who do not remember my kindness. Fear and mistrust have plagued them as a slow disease. I am afraid that the breach is now irreversible. We can go months or even years without seeing another human soul.”

  “Don’t you get lonely?” Arlon inquired.

  “At times. At times. But I have the comfort of the scriptures. And the Zho grants me glimpses of His plans through my collection of Rone fragments. That is how I saw your coming, some days ago.”

  Arlon clutched his necklace and then glanced back at Shendollyn. “So, the pieces of a Dragon Rone can actually help a person see the future? Or do they just show you what might happen? A possible future?”

  She started moving towards the building. “A Rone vision is as firm as the mountains, Arlon of Soteria. Whatever is shown will surely come to pass…no matter how wonderful.” She stared at him as she passed. “No matter how horrible.”

  Shendollyn ascended the small flight of steps onto the porch. “But now…come. Come inside. You need your rest. There are many assembled against you on every side. And the limitless wrath of Terras Telos waxes ho
t.” She grabbed the door and paused.

  “You will need to leave for Alaithia at dawn’s first light.”

  CHAPTER 30

  Seeing her big, brown eyes finally open up rekindled the most wonderful feeling in Arlon’s heart.

  But then seeing the wild desperation and confusion they held threatened to rip it right out of his chest. Mae’Lee struggled to sit up before unleashing a heart-rending, garbled scream.

  Arlon leaned over her frantic face and mouthed his words clearly. “You…are…okay. It…will…be…okay.” He pointed at his own ears. “Can…you…hear…me?” He repeated it again as she concentrated on his lips.

  Huge tears pooled in her eyes as she shook her head. “No,” she said. “I can’t hear you.” But her weak words were slurred and sounded strange and hollow.

  Arlon glanced back over his shoulder. “Somebody find me something to write with!” He hesitated. “And something to write on.”

  Trilyra and Hort immediately scrambled out of the room and began ransacking the house.

  She has to be starving.

  She hasn’t eaten in over a day.

  Arlon helped the frightened girl to sit up before offering her some of the fresh bread which Shendollyn had prepared the night before. He showed her a cup of tea as well before adjusting the double layer of blankets all around her.

  “Thank you,” she mouthed as she shoved the dry morsel into her mouth and nervously examined the dim room. The southwesterly-facing main window didn’t allow for much early morning sunshine to seep in, but the light was improving rapidly.

  “Here you go,” Trilyra announced, rushing back into the room. “I believe these will do.” She deposited a few sheets of thick paper and a black jar with a feather quill into his ready hands. “I hope the ink’s not all dried out in there.”

  “I’ll use my own blood if I have to,” Arlon said with a wink. “Thanks.”

  Hort followed close on her heels with another short stack of paper. “Here’s more.”

  “Just set it down,” Arlon replied. “I’m sure we will need more on our journey to Alaithia.” He looked up. “Until she gets better, that is. Until she gets better.”

  If she gets better.

  Trilyra headed for the door. “I will inform Mogg and Paymer that she’s awake. We will need to leave soon. Has anyone seen crazy Sister?”

  Both boys shook their heads.

  She smiled. “Well, I don’t know if that is a good thing…or a bad thing.”

  Arlon shoved the quill down into the ink jar and began to scribble out a quick message.

  YOU HAVE BEEN SICK WITH THE WALKING FEVER.

  He paused.

  YOUR HEARING WILL GET BETTER.

  He held it up for her.

  She looked like she was trying to smile and nodded. The Princess grabbed the pen and dipped it in the ink. Arlon held the paper closer.

  WHERE ARE WE?

  He thought about it for a moment before writing back.

  GILMOTH. NORTHERN KRAY LANDS.

  She nodded and took the pen.

  WHOSE HOUSE?

  Oh boy, he thought.

  This is not going to be an easy answer.

  A FRIEND, he wrote. OLD WOMAN. REAL OLD.

  Mae’Lee squinted before taking another bite of bread and then chasing it with some tea. She motioned for the pen.

  WHERE IS EVERYONE ELSE?

  Arlon smiled and gave her a reassuring pat on the arm. EVERYONE IS FINE, he scribbled. DO YOU FEEL GOOD ENOUGH TO TRAVEL?

  Mae’Lee closed her eyes for a few moments and took several deep breaths. She took the quill.

  VERY TIRED BUT I THINK SO.

  Arlon pointed at the bread and mouthed the word ‘Eat’ before turning around. “Hey, Hort…why don’t you go get some of the meat we have left over? A few small pieces for the Princess. It’ll be good for her.”

  “I’m on it.” Hort bolted away and nearly collided with Paymer and Mogg just coming in through the doorway.

  “Whoa, would you look at that,” Paymer boomed with a huge smile. “She lives!”

  Mogg was guarded, as usual. “How are her ears?”

  Arlon shook his head. “Not good…yet.” He held up the paper with their messages. “We’ve been using this.”

  “Can the young woman ride?” Mogg asked.

  Arlon raised his eyebrows. “She says that she can. But I think that it might be best for us to wait for her to eat a little food first.”

  Paymer nodded and gave the Princess a slight hug. “I agree…plus, it seems like we’re pretty safe here.”

  Mogg wandered back to the door. “We leave in one hour. No later.”

  _____________________________________

  Her unmistakable rambling rhyme floated across the lowlands of the plain just as a thin layer of morning clouds finished overspreading from west to east. Paymer peeked over as he packed his horse and spotted the old woman first. “Beware, my friends…Sister Strange is on her way.”

  “Where is she?” Hort asked.

  Paymer gestured just to the left of the grove of elms. “Right beside the trees.”

  “Oh, I see her. It looks like she is carrying one of her stick people. See the grass hair? I think she’s talking to it.”

  “What’s new?” Paymer smirked.

  Trilyra patted Arlon’s leg after he climbed aboard his horse. “You ready for your recovering royal rider?” she asked.

  He looked down at the Princess and pointed behind him with a shrug. Mae’Lee nodded. “Hoist her up,” he said. “And let’s go ahead and strap her in. She’s pretty weak. I don’t want her falling off.”

  Mogg and Paymer lifted as Trilyra guided her into position.

  “Do you see that, Agailia?” the old woman hollered as she trudged her way across the sandy yard. “One horse with two riders, and one horse with two heads. Two. Shoe. Two. Flew.” She held her stick friend aloft with her one good arm. ”Company comes. Company goes. Wee-ho!”

  They finished securing the Princess and everyone hopped aboard their steeds.

  “Thank you, ma’am, for your kindness and help,” Arlon called out. “Our friend here is doing better.”

  “Yes, thank you!” Paymer repeated.

  Sister pulled the stick next to her right ear, and then thrust it away in surprise. “Well, of course they’re not staying for the dance, Agailia! And who could blame them, with all your mongrel mutts running around the place!”

  Trilyra leaned over and kept her voice down. “Maybe we should just slip away,” she recommended.

  “Don’t listen to her! Don’t listen to that one!” Sister screamed out.

  Everyone but Mae’Lee looked up in shock.

  “No. No.” The old woman pointed directly at Trilyra. “That one can’t be trusted. She’s a liar. A liar. Liar. Fire. Liar. Tire. Wee-ho.”

  “What in the world?!” Hort exclaimed.

  “Like I said,” Trilyra mumbled. “Let’s just go. She’s crazy. She doesn’t even know me.”

  Mogg jerked on the reins and wrangled Tempest about. “We ride north.”

  “The twin of Pelias is a liar!” Sister shrieked as they rode off, single file.

  “She’s a liar! Liar!”

  CHAPTER 31

  The grueling pace that Mogg maintained was somewhat beneath a full gallop, but quite a bit more strenuous than a trot. Their north-easterly trek led up and over a series of gentle, rolling hills that (by the morning of the second day) had become a lot less gentle, and more rocky than rolling. The troupe skirted a string of abandoned cities (most much smaller than Tar’tain) and weathered stone roads that seemed to form an ancient border of sorts.

  The greater part of the journey had grown uncomfortably silent, bordering on awkward. Even meal and bedtime had become cold, distant and quiet affairs with only the occasional flurry of conversation. Arlon, with Mae’Lee strapped to his back, had retained the rearmost position in the convoy since leaving. With the Princess unable to regularly communicate much
beyond taps and hand gestures, the young Dunamai from Soteria had nothing but time on his hands.

  And questions.

  And suspicions.

  And questions layered upon suspicions.

  He couldn’t get Sister’s rantings out of his mind.

  What did the old lady mean about Trilyra?

  A liar? What would she be lying about?

  He would often stare at the bow and quiver that were secured to her back as the Ammodisian warrior bounced along on her horse just ahead of him.

  Are you hiding any secrets?

  What secrets are you hiding?

  Are you really the sister of Pelias?

  The old woman said you were his twin.

  How could she know that?

  He had to admit that, before the eccentric old woman’s accusations, he had never entertained a serious misgiving about Trilyra. There was not a doubt in his tortured mind that they would all have been dead or captured long before now if not for her guidance and training.

  Arlon had wanted to bring up the unsettling topic with the others, but not while she was within earshot. And with the rare exception of a quick hunting expedition, Trilyra was pretty much always within earshot.

  Maybe the old woman was wrong.

  And why didn’t Shendollyn say anything?

  Did Shendollyn know about Trilyra?

  He tried to shake the uncomfortable questions by distracting himself with the incredible scenery. About midday, the group had topped a final, wooded hill before descending into an expansive plain that was filled with lush grasses and patches of thick forests that stretched without bounds off to the north and east.

  Paymer slowed his horse and dropped back alongside Arlon. He wagged his finger to their left. “See those hazy, purple ridges way off to the north?”

  Arlon squinted. “Mountains?”

  “Mountains?!” Paymer erupted. “Not just mountains. Those are the Anatellians, pal. We will be leaving Therion lands soon.” He couldn’t hide the smile from his freckled-face. “We are close to Orania.”

  “Do you have any idea how far we are from Alaithia?”

  “If we keep riding like this?” Paymer raised his eyebrows. “Probably three or four days, I guess. Once we get to the Isos Pass, we’re practically there. And then…we cross the Firebridge!” He grinned. “That is, if those freaky Sevasti let us in.”