Well, Fuzzy, come and get me and let’s get out of here!
Coming, Brin! Can you guide me?
In answer to her silent plea, the glow of Brin’s blade was suddenly made visible, even through the slashing sands. After only a few steps, the rain—really more of a deluge—began to fall. It settled the sand and increased visibility to the point where she was finally able to see her path. The herd of horses had scattered at the first onslaught, and the Breken crowds along with them. People had run in every direction in an effort to seek shelter and safety from the horses’ deadly hooves and the storm’s powerful gales.
The dais remained deserted save for the form of Lord Falco as he struggled to recover from the sudden burst of wind. Clearly, Mili and Jacob felt little allegiance to him, for they were nowhere in sight.
Dearra continued to make her way toward Brin. Scattered here and there around her were clothing and weapons, abandoned or lost with the first, brutal winds. She paused when she came upon a scimitar, long enough to scoop it into her hand. The shape of it felt wrong. She’d had no experience with a curved blade such as this, but she knew she’d need some form of protection if she were to approach Falco.
Dearra searched, but saw no sign of Darius. She hoped he was somehow being protected by the same strange bubble she found herself in. The sensation of being on the inside was a bit unnerving. She could see out well enough, but her hearing was affected by it, making everything sound as though she had water trapped inside her ear, muffled, and somehow muted. She climbed onto the platform to stand no more than six feet from Falco who was visibly infuriated.
Falco had to bellow to make himself heard over the wind and rain. “Now, you die, Maj witch!” he told her. He launched himself at Dearra and pulled the magnificent blade free from its sheath. Dearra threw her arm up in a defensive move, hoping to maintain her footing when the blow came, but Falco took only one more step before freezing where he stood, his arm awash in a burst of golden flames. The look of shock on his face as he stared, transfixed, watching as his arm burned, was almost comical.
“But I am your master,” Falco said, his voice rife with shock and disbelief.
Dearra could only stare in wonder as the golden flame consumed him entirely in a blinding flash. A moment later, the sword clattered to the wooden floorboards, still glowing fiercely.
I have no master but myself, Breken pig.
The dragon had killed with fire, but his voice was like ice in Dearra’s mind.
“In Cyrus’s name,” Dearra said.
Forget Cyrus; that was all me. Even Cyrus never saw me like that.
Let’s go.
Dearra hesitated. For the first time, she was a little afraid of her dragon friend.
For Tolah’s sake, Fuzzy. If I was going to torch you it would have been when I had to listen to you and Carly prattle on about which ribbon would best bring out color of your eyes.
Dearra stifled a giggle, tossed the useless scimitar aside, and took up the now cool blade. She jumped off the platform to land in several inches of water. Even though it was no more than a few inches deep, the water ran briskly, and Dearra felt the strength of the torrent as it threatened to pull her off her feet. Her bubble did nothing to protect her from the force of the water; even in the moment she had paused to consider its strength, the water had risen further.
“Dearra!” Darius said as he appeared through the wind and rain riding toward her at a full gallop. He thrust out his arm, leaned far over, and grabbed her arm to pull her up behind him without seeming to slow. She clamped one arm about his waist, doing her best with the other hand to hold Brin away from him and the side of the running horse, and Darius turned his horse in a tight circle and retreated in the direction he had just come from.
They rode hard for a few minutes, the rain and wind slackening around them while appearing to continue raging in the distance. Darius pulled the horse to a slow trot as they approached a group that Dearra had no trouble identifying.
Hugh and Phillip raced toward her, and she felt her father’s strong grip around her as he lifted her down and crushed her to him. Phillip cried openly, as the trio sank to their knees holding each other, tears running freely down their faces.
Carly, Daniel, and William kept a respectful distance, allowing them a moment to themselves, while Darius slipped down from the horse’s back to talk to Aesri. He was stopped in his tracks by Reo, who bounded into him, planting his paws on Darius’s chest. A full-throated wolf song erupted from him, turning everyone’s head in their direction. Darius cupped the wolf’s head affectionately in his big hands and ruffled the thick fur around his ears from side to side.
This is all very touching, Brin said, but three fairies aren’t going to be able to keep that storm going forever. We need to move.
“The dragon is correct,” Aesri said seriously. “We have to go. My sisters will not be able to maintain the storm for long. We need to put as much distance between us and the Breken as possible before they start their pursuit.”
Of course the dragon is correct. Of all the—
Peace, Brin. Those fairies just saved our hides, Darius scolded gently.
“Brin’du Drak’Tir, I apologize if I gave offense. For so long you have been our sole purpose in life, our only focus to help you, to make right what was done so long ago. Through the centuries, we have sometimes forgotten that you are not just our destiny, but a living being.”
Humph, Brin grumbled, only mildly appeased.
Aesri looked a little confused, which seemed strange on her usually serene face.
“Does…” she bean tentatively: does he accept my apology?”
“As much as he ever will,” Darius quipped. He climbed back atop the stallion and reached down to take Dearra’s arm.
Hugh took Phillip’s hand in his own and led him to the horse waiting for them.
Zusia sat perched on William’s horse. She already liked the quiet, kind man; he did not push her to talk, and they had developed an easy relationship, seeing as neither expected much from the other. She had watched the reunion between Dearra and her family in a kind of awe, not really understanding what she was seeing, but wanting to understand more than she had ever wanted anything. She didn’t really like the questioning look the Breken warrior cast her way, but he had remained silent with whatever objections he might have to her presence.
Chapter 51
They rode hard. The horses were lathered and tiring, all except Khan who was content to pound ever onward, leading the others forward. Khan would not be slowed, so Carly stole glances over her shoulder from time to time to make sure everyone was keeping up, as her horse’s hooves fairly flew as he pushed toward Bandar.
Daniel sat behind her, not speaking, his tension seeming to radiate from him in continuous waves. He rode with one arm around her waist and the other on the hilt of his borrowed sword. She knew he wasn’t thrilled he had lost his weapon, and she was saddened at the loss of her own dagger. It wasn’t that she cared much about the jeweled dagger itself, but it had been a gift from Daniel. It was too bad those weapons were lost to them, but it was far more important that they had gotten free than to worry about retrieving silly pieces of metal. Daniel grumbled about it for a while, but even he eventually had to concede that mere objects could be replaced. The fact they had all escaped the Breken city in one piece was miracle enough.
Aesri rode silently. She did not look around her, only forward. After all this time Brin’du Drak’Tir was here at last. She was so close. They were so close. It was finally time for her people to make everything right with the dragon. She had no idea how they could possibly accomplish that feat, but somehow they must.
The Great Tree had once more begun to drop leaves. No one understood why, after all this time, but the fact remained that leaves were falling. If the crack in the trunk started to grow once more…no, it was too terrible to think about. Rah had His reasons, and she had to trust Him. Faith. She needed to have faith.
Willia
m held tight to the Breken child in front of him. He had first thought to have the girl ride behind him so he might be better able to control the horse, but the poor thing had seemed so terrified he thought she might feel better if she could see where they were going.
William glanced to his left and saw Royce and the wolf running steadily at his side. He was riding well, considering he had never before been on a horse, but Aesri had promised the animal would be safe and would not let its rider fall. How she could promise such a thing was beyond him, but he believed her nonetheless. The Etrafarians had done all that they had said they would so far, and he saw no reason to begin to doubt them now. Though his own horse could have easily carried both children, speed was of the essence, and the lighter the burden, the faster they could all go.
The child suddenly shuddered in his arms, William gently increased his embrace, and she seemed to settle. He fancied he could feel every bone beneath her stained tunic. Katherine would have her fattened up soon enough. She was actually a lovely little girl, once you got past all the dirt. She had quite a smart mouth on her, but William imagined that would improve in time. She just needed a good home, and a family that would love, guide, and support her.
William decided he and Kat would be that family. He’d need to speak to his wife, of course, but he was certain her motherly instincts would kick in once she’d met the child. They’d both help her, although he worried that the scars the Breken had left were more than skin deep.
Hugh reached back and patted his son’s leg, unsure if the comfort he hoped it brought was for his child, or himself. He had both of his children with him, thank Cyrus. He didn’t want to think about what he would have done had he lost them. He was immensely proud of them. They were both so young, but they had endured more than most people could be expected to handle in a lifetime, and though they weren’t safe yet, they were alive, and they were together, and that was what mattered.
Dearra had wrapped Brin in a leather hide used to blanket one of the horse’s backs. It wasn’t ideal, but it would have to do for now. She rested her head on Darius’s back and ignored the throbbing in her legs as she bounced relentlessly up and down. She had thought she would have gotten better at the whole horse thing by now, but it seemed it wasn’t to be.
Her eyes drifted shut and she tried to sleep. She could smell Darius’s musky scent as it mixed with the leather and the sweat of the horse, and she inhaled deeply of it. She pressed her hands tightly to his chest, trying to hold him closer, willing him to stay with her.
When the Breken had put her in the cell, she felt torn in half. The only time she saw Darius was when Falco had seen fit to play with his “pets”. She had thrilled at the sight of him then, her heart quickening. It always provided a sense of relief. Knowing that Darius still lived made her feel whole again, but watching as he was tortured and humiliated had caused her more pain than any of the wounds the Breken had inflicted on her directly.
She was pulled from her reverie as she felt Darius’s calloused hand cover hers and trace small circles on them with his thumb. Dearra sighed and smiled, her eyes still closed.
We’re going to be okay, Dearra, Brin said. I know it. Even the fairies turned out to be okay.
Dearra smiled wider, and she could feel Darius as he chuckled quietly to himself.
They were a little more than okay, Dearra said. If it hadn’t been for them, Darius and I would be dead by now, and you would be stuck forever with the Breken.
Not forever. Nothing is forever, but I can definitely do without another thousand years of waiting. I thought you and Darius would never show up. When you were born I finally believed.
Dearra sat up straighter. “What do you mean you thought we would never show up? You expected us? How could you know we were coming?”
I suppose you need to know, or at least deserve to know.
It all begins with the spell that trapped me. Blood is the key. Hathel needed the blood of a Breken, the blood of an enemy, and the blood of a dragon to work the magic. The words read,
Blood of my enemy,
From across the sea.
Pure of body,
No taint can there be.
Blood of the warrior,
Wild, brave, and free.
Blood of the dragon,
Imprisoned by me.
Trapped in a cage,
By the blood of all three.
Locked in steel,
Bound without key.
For the Breken blood, Hathel chose Cyrus, who was also from House Tempestas. Cyrus was only in his teens, but he was skilled with both magic and sword. He could have specialized in either, but while almost anyone could be taught to handle a weapon, not everyone showed an affinity for magic. He was apprenticed to Hathel, which basically meant he was a slave.
Hathel could have used his own blood just as effectively, but he was worried that something might go wrong. If it did, Hathel would only be out one apprentice, and he could be easily replaced.
As for the enemy, they needed to be from across the sea, but more importantly, they needed to be pure, and that was a tall order in the Breken city. There were slaves, but it was unusual for them to stay unspoiled for long; the Breken aren’t much for waiting when they see something they want.
Dearra felt the muscles in Darius’s arms tense and she pressed her face to his back. She wished he could let that particular memory fade.
Hathel got lucky on that score. The raiders had just brought a fresh group of slaves, and among them was a Mirin Tor girl. I caught glimpses of her history from her whenever she thought of home. From what I gathered, she had been looking to start a new life, and a handsome trader had tricked her into coming aboard his ship. He’d said he loved her, but what he really loved was Breken gold, and, in her, he saw the opportunity to earn an easy profit.
All that was left to enact the spell was my blood, which I had been foolish enough to contribute, and then Hathel had all the pieces he needed to close his trap.
After the spell was completed, I was bonded to all three of them. Hathel was my master, but I could also hear and be heard by the Mirin Tor girl and Cyrus, as we now had a blood connection. The mixing of human and dragon blood turned out to be a dangerous proposition. My blood, as it happens, is poisonous. There were a few difficult times during their illness, but both Cyrus and the slave girl recovered.
I never saw the Mirin Tor girl again. We were aware of one another, but little more. She existed in her world, and I in mine. Cyrus and I, however, did form a kind of friendship. We were both trapped under Hathel’s rule, and we found a camaraderie in our shared misery.
Hathel had no idea that we could speak to one another, but even if he had known, he probably wouldn’t have cared, seeing as the concept of friendship was beyond him. Cyrus searched every moment he got for a way to free me from my prison. He genuinely cared about me, and wanted to see me unbound.
It took years, but Cyrus finally found the spell we needed. It was written in Hathel’s own hand. Hathel was pretty useless when it came to magic, so we couldn’t imagine him writing anything of worth, but there it was.
Knowing that the spell would disappear after it had been performed, Hathel had made a copy. His replica didn’t carry the power of the original scroll because the parchment of the original was part of its power, and he could have said the words a million times with no effect because of it.
Cyrus and I poured over the wording of the spell, cross-checking it against similar spells. We concluded that there might be a way to reverse the spell, but we were going to need the exact same blood again. We had Cyrus’s blood, of course. The problem was the Mirin Tor girl. She hadn’t remained pure for long after playing her part in the spell. We were going to have to find another. Preferably someone with the same bloodline. We didn’t even know for sure that it could be done, and, if attempted, what would happen to the people whose blood we used? Would they survive the ordeal? Would I? Casting the spell might free me, but at what cost?
&
nbsp; One thing was certain—the chances of us finding another Mirin Tor, untouched and in Darak, were pretty slim.
Cyrus had long since decided that he wanted a new start. He wanted to see if there was another way to live other than the one he’d grown used to in Darak. His desire to help me was just the push he needed to make him take action.
We went to Maj where he’d hoped to find a Maj woman to join with. We needed one for the spell anyway, and he was a man, after all, lonely for a mate and a family. Neither of us expected to find Dyanna, and Cyrus fell in love with her, heart and soul.
It worried me, because I wasn’t sure if she would be willing to try the spell. I knew Cyrus would never place her in harm’s way, but when she was attacked by the pirates, none of it mattered anymore; she was no longer pure. But when their baby was born and they saw its eyes—
“What do you mean its eyes? What about its eyes?” Dearra asked.
Did I not mention that before? Well, it’s like this: that golden ring around your eyes is a side effect of the dragon blood you carry. It has been diluted over the generations, until it’s become hardly more than a flicker of light. In some generations it has been a little stronger than others in one child or another, but it’s never enough to manifest.
The blood tie you and I share began with Cyrus. I thought for a while that your blood alone would be enough to complete the reversal spell, Dearra. You are a direct descendant of Cyrus and you are also a Mirin Tor maiden, though you Maj like to think of yourselves as a people apart. Then there were your eyes. I hadn’t seen such a strong sign of my presence since Dyanna’s child. So, there was a chance. I suspected that Tolah had other plans when I felt Darius and heard him coming, but Tolah doesn’t tell me what He’s thinking. Even when Darius arrived, and I could feel the pull of the magic, still I wasn’t sure. I had to find out. I had to check. I’m sorry Dearra, but that’s why I cut you when you were chasing the she-wolf. I saw an opportunity, and I took it. I never dreamed you would become so ill. Cyrus recovered much more quickly, and you already carried some of my blood, so I thought it would be safe. My blood is there, and the Breken blood is there, but the Mirin Tor link is weak. It doesn’t seem like it should be that way, as so many generations have passed, but the Mirin Tor is not dominant in you. No, it’s Darius who carries that blood.
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