by Aaron Hodges
Blinking, the Baronian looked around as though he could no longer see them. “That’s incredible,” he murmured. “Are you still there?”
“Remember, ten minutes,” Devon hissed.
Then they were up and racing across the open ground between the treeline and the settlement. Braidon held his breath as a Stalker appeared ahead of them, his long strides carrying him around the edge of the square. His eyes swept the forest, fixating for a second on Braidon and Devon, and then passing on. Air whistled between Braidon’s teeth as he released his breath.
Moving quickly, they crossed the square and made the inn, taking care to avoid the wings and tail of the Red Dragon. It had taken up residence in the centre of the square, its massive body curled around the couple’s wagon. The carcass of their pony lay alongside the beast, its bloody bones all but unrecognisable.
Shuddering, Braidon fixed his eyes on their destination. Checking his spell was still in place, he continued on, Devon keeping fast to his side. Despite the big man’s words, Devon had one eye on the beast, and Braidon could sense the fear radiating from his friend.
The magic spreading through the square grew stronger as they approached the stairs to the inn. He no longer sensed Alana or Enala’s power, but the confusing mixture of Light, Earth and Sky magic could only have come from his father. Something else stained the air though, a cold tang of Earth and Light far more potent than even his father’s magic.
“You sure they’re in there?” Devon whispered.
Braidon nodded and they started up the stairs. The wooden boards creaked beneath Devon’s weight, and Braidon glanced back quickly to see if the watchers had noticed. The black silhouettes of the Stalkers continued their slow march around the square. None of the ones hiding in the shadows moved, but the Red Dragon lifted its head, a low rumble coming from its chest. A vile stench carried across to them as it snorted, then took up a piece of bone and began to chew.
“Disgusting creatures,” Devon muttered. “I hope Enala still has Dahniul lurking somewhere nearby.”
Braidon’s throat clenched as he recalled the beam of light that had caught the Gold Dragon, hurling him from its back. Yet both he and Enala had survived; why not the dragon?
He spun back around as an awful shriek came from inside the inn. Braidon’s heart leapt into his throat as he felt the magic in the air changing. Gripping Devon by the arm, he raced for the door. As he reached for the handle, a howl came from the forest behind them, announcing the arrival of the Baronians.
Braidon didn’t have time to see whether the Stalkers were successfully distracted. If everything went to plan, the Baronians would kill a few and then disappear back into the forest. Hauling open the door, Braidon raced inside.
Green and white light raced out to greet him, and for half a second Braidon felt his power swell, as though fed by some other force. A moment later Devon appeared beside him, kanker in hand. Braidon sensed his spell tearing, drained by the spell cast over the hammer—then they were standing in the doorway to the inn for all the world to see.
Before he could restore his illusion, a scream drew Braidon’s attention to the centre of the room. His father stood there, glowing white sword in hand, Enala bowed before him. Before anyone could move, the blade flashed down, tearing through his grandmother’s chest.
Braidon’s heart lurched and he screamed, reaching out a hand as though by will alone he could undo what his father had done. Another scream came from his right, and Devon rushed past, his face a mask of determination. Braidon was still staring in horror when Devon returned an instant later, Alana now swung over his shoulder.
“Go, Braidon!” he bellowed. Another voice echoed his cry, and Braidon was shocked to see the innkeeper, Selina, racing before the hammerman. “Go!” Devon screamed again.
But Braidon was unable to look away from the terrible scene. His grandmother still stood, her eyes burning violet, her body bent around the awful sword. Magic bubbled from the wound up into the Tsar’s blade, green and white mixing and merging, seeming to flow into the steel itself.
The Tsar showed no sign he had noticed Alana’s rescue, nor his son’s presence. Slowly the magic began to fade, then as though she were a fire dashed by water, the light in Enala’s eyes died. She slumped against the sword, and wrenching back his blade, the Tsar allowed her body to tumble to the ground. Power swirled as he lifted the sword aloft, awesome, terrifying.
A sudden fear fill Braidon then, and tearing himself free of his shock, he turned away. Tears streamed from his eyes as he chased after Devon. He could feel his grief within, his rage and hatred rising, becoming entangled in the threads of his magic. Unbidden it rose again, igniting a flickering light in his palms. Stumbling outside, Braidon focused on his grandmother’s lessons, concentrating on his breathing, seeking the calm within the storm of his emotions.
As his magic came back under his control, he gripped it tightly, seeking to wrap a fresh layer of concealment around the four of them. But as the magic touched Devon, there was a strange sucking sensation, and he realised with a curse that his friend still held kanker in one hand.
“Devon!” he called, his voice echoing through the square. “Sheathe your hammer!”
Devon was already at the bottom of the steps. To Braidon’s relief, most of the Stalkers had vanished, presumably chasing after the Baronians that had attacked the settlement. Below, Devon looked back, confusion in his eyes, but seeing Braidon’s desperation, he did as he was bid. As he reached up to sheathe kanker, Alana shrieked, seeming to come alive in his grip. An elbow struck him in the face, and he staggered back as she dropped lightly to her feet. Eyes dark, she started towards the steps.
“You can’t help her, girl.” Selina blocked the way back to her inn. “And you can’t stop him.”
Braidon rushed down the steps as Alana raised a hand towards the woman. He sensed her power building and opened his mouth to scream a warning, but at the last moment his sister hesitated. Some of the rage left her face as she closed her eyes, a shudder sweeping through her. She slumped forward, and Selina stepped quickly forwards to catch her.
Reaching them, Braidon wasted only a second to check that Alana was okay, before diving back into his magic. Sensing their peril, it rose in an instant. Acting by a will of its own, the white light wrapped around them, and they faded from view.
“Fine, then I’ll make them all pay.”
Braidon looked around as his sister straightened once more. Her eyes glowed as she stalked past him. Concealed now by her power, she strode towards the dragon, which had awoke amongst the chaos and was now staring at the space where they had vanished. Just as Devon had predicted, it had made no move against them without being bidden by his father. Casting a quick glance back at the inn, Braidon wondered how long it would be before the command came. Whatever had happened between the Tsar and Enala was obviously still keeping him preoccupied, and he prayed to the Goddess it continued for a while yet.
Alana was approaching the Red Dragon now, and as its tail twitched, she darted forward and gripped it in both hands. Braidon’s ears popped as he sensed the power surge from her into the beast. An awful roar rent the air as it threw back its head. Alana leapt away as the tail whipped about, narrowly missing her.
Then the dragon drew suddenly still, the great globes of its eyes fixating on the distant trees. Alana stepped forward again, resting her hands on its foreclaws.
“Go,” her voice rang through the square. “Destroy them all, the ones who caged you, the ones who sought to rule you.”
The beast roared again, but now the sound was filled with an awful glee. Wings spread, it crouched flat against the dirt, and then bounded into the air. A sharp crack sounded in the square as the dragon lifted skywards, its great neck circling to stare down at the settlement. Fire built in the cavern of its jaws as it turned towards them.
“Run!” Braidon screamed.
Chapter 22
Blood thumped in Alana’s ears as she raced through the t
rees, drowning out the dragon’s roar and the screams of dying men. Smoke hung heavy in the air, its stench choking, blinding. Around them the forest was aflame, the world in chaos. Alana cared nothing for any of it.
Enala was dead.
Her grandmother, the woman she had hated until just a few days ago, had been murdered, and there was nothing Alana could do to change it.
“Come on!”
Someone was screaming from ahead of her, but whether it was Devon or Braidon or the strange woman from the inn, she couldn’t tell. Head down, she continued through the forest, her footsteps growing shorter as despair ate her resolve. The magic it had taken to break her father’s spell over the Red Dragon had cost her greatly, and now the beast was as likely to kill them all as it was her father’s Stalkers.
Tears stung her eyes as she finally staggered to a stop, overwhelmed. The fire was somewhere behind her now, but smoke still blanketed the forest. It rose to claim her as she slumped to the ground, stealing away her breath.
How long she crouched there, she couldn’t say, but suddenly she sensed her brother alongside her. Her heart beat faster as she looked at him, still hardly believing he was there, that he was alive. After all those days thinking he was gone…
“Braidon,” she murmured. “You’re alive.”
“Of course I am, sis,” he said as he knelt in the dirt. “What are you doing here?”
Her vision blurred as the pain of their grandmother’s loss cut through her joy. “We have to go back,” she croaked. “We have to save her.”
The pain in her brother’s eyes reflected her own, but he shook his head. Reaching out, he drew her into his arms. Alana sobbed as she breathed in the scent of him, felt his heart beating in concert with her own.
He’s alive, he’s really alive.
“We can’t, sis,” Braidon whispered into her ear. “We can’t, she’s already gone.”
“But she’s our grandmother,” Alana sobbed, trying to pull herself together, to summon the unyielding resolve her father had built within her. Yet the moment Enala had been struck down, all that strength, all that resolve, had been shattered. “She sacrificed herself for me,” she burst out, and buried her face in Braidon’s shoulder.
Braidon said nothing, only held her tighter. For a while they knelt together in silence, eyes closed, listening as the sounds of the world faded away, until it seemed only the two of them remained. A sweet peace settled around Alana, calming her heart, drying her tears. Finally, she pulled back from her brother and opened her eyes. The forest had vanished, replaced by the softest blanket of white.
“You’re doing this?” she whispered.
“It’s only an illusion,” he murmured. “We have to return, before the fires reach us.”
The thought of returning to a world without the crotchety old woman filled Alana with dread. She sucked in a breath, savouring the nothingness around them, the peace of it all, and then nodded at Braidon. With a flick of his fingers, the white vanished, returning them to the chaos of the forest.
Slowly he drew Alana to her feet. “Are you ready?” he asked. “My magic won’t hide us forever, not while we’re so close.”
“I know,” Alana whispered.
They started off again. Alana had no idea which direction Braidon was leading her in, but as they continued on, the smoke grew thinner, and the bellows of the dragon faded, until the silence of the forest resumed. It wasn’t long before they caught up with Devon and the woman from the inn. Seeing them, Devon turned and started off through the forest without saying a word.
The sight twisted a dagger in Alana’s heart, but she said nothing, knowing she deserved every bit of his hatred. Her gaze turned to Braidon, who strode along behind Devon like he knew exactly where they were going. She frowned, thinking back to the last time she had seen him, the young, apprehensive boy she’d left before the gates of Fort Fall.
He had seemed so small then, so frail; she would have done anything to protect him. Now though, it was Braidon who had saved her, who had mustered a rescue from right beneath their father’s nose. In the brief time they had been separated, the boy that had been her brother had mastered his magic, had come into his own. He was a man now, though Alana wondered whether she could ever think of him as anything but her little brother.
The roar of the dragon sounded through the quiet of the trees, but it was still some distance away, and after a moment’s pause the company started off once more. Between Devon’s obvious rage and Alana’s shock, little was said amongst the four of them. No doubt there would be time for swapping stories later, though Alana doubted Devon would want to a hear a word of what she had to say. For now though, they needed to get away. With Braidon’s power concealing them, the Tsar would struggle to detect their minds or magic. But that would not stop his Stalkers from encircling them.
That is, if the Red Dragon didn't burn them first.
They continued on, the trees growing denser around them. After an hour, when they still hadn’t heard more from the dragon, Alana sensed her brother release his concealing spell. They shared a glance and she nodded her approval. His magic still protected them from their father’s invisible gaze, but the physical concealment required far more energy. Braidon could not have kept up such a magic forever, not without drawing on his own lifeforce.
The trees thinned out again, the light amongst the undergrowth brightening as the canopy grew fainter. Brambles appeared, their vines as thick as fingers. Devon took the lead, his leather jacket and pants giving him some protection from their bites. Following behind him, the others struggled through the broken bushes he left behind, cursing as stray thorns cut their flesh.
Dusk approached, and the soft whine of insects arrived. Alana cursed as the creatures slipped through the cracks in her clothing to fasten themselves on her flesh. She slapped her arm, and her hand came away streaked with blood. A few seconds later, another insect took the mosquito’s place.
Finally the last of the forest gave way, but as Alana looked around, it wasn’t open ground that greeted her, but a towering cliff of blood-red sandstone. Her heart sank as she scanned the mountain range, her eyes alighting on a slightly darker patch of shadow. In the fading light, it wasn’t until they grew closer that she realised it was a thin passage leading through the cliffs.
As they neared the crevice, the buzz of voices carried to their ears. Alana slowed, her hand dropping to her empty sword sheath. She cursed, realising she’d left the blade behind on the floor of the inn, but Devon was still striding forward, seemingly uncaring of the voices. Sharing a glance with her brother, she watched as he disappeared into the shadows of the Sandstone Mountains.
Quinn winced as the door clicked shut behind him. In the silence within the inn, the noise seemed unbelievably loud, echoing through the dark interior of the building like a gong. He froze, taking a moment to prepare himself before facing the Tsar.
“They escaped?”
The words were softly spoken, yet they sliced through the silence, filling the room with their power. Quinn’s head whipped around, searching the shadows for his master. He found the silhouette of a man near the bar, head bowed, sword still in hand. As Quinn’s eyes adjusted, his gaze was drawn to the pile of rags at the Tsar’s feet. The slight sheen of blood pooling there was the only hint that the rags were more than they appeared. Swallowing, he looked back at his master.
“Yes, sir—”
The words had barely left his mouth when he sensed an invisible force invade his body. He gasped, the shining blue of his magic rising to defend him. Yet even as it rose, the other force sliced through his resistance as though he were no more potent than a child and wrapped his mind in chains of fire.
A scream tore from Quinn’s lips as agony engulfed him. Then, as quickly as it had come, the force departed, and he found himself gasping on the floor of the inn. Shivering, he dragged himself to his knees and looked at the Tsar.
“Speak,” came the Tsar’s command.
“Yes
…sir,” he managed. “The Baronians…they attacked. We…chased them into the forest…others were behind us…they freed the villagers…” He trailed off, his eyes drawn to the dark silhouette of his master.
“And?”
“The Red Dragon, it broke free,” Quinn whispered, his voice more steady now. “It burned the forest, half our number, probably the Baronians, too. We…we had to kill it.”
Quinn didn’t mention the delight he had taken in tearing the beast from the sky. Ever since its mockery of him during his first hunt for Alana, he had despised the creature. He’d been all too happy to combine his magic with the other Stalkers and destroy the Red Dragon, Feshibe.
“And my daughter?”
“One of my men caught a glimpse of her, sir,” he replied, “as they left the inn. She was with Devon, and your son.”
“So all our enemies, they were here, in this settlement? And you failed to capture them, lieutenant?”
Quinn swallowed. “Yes, sir.”
“You disappoint me.”
The tone in the Tsar’s voice froze the blood in Quinn’s veins. He looked up in time to see the soft flicker of lightning as it gathered in the Tsar’s hand. Crying out, Quinn stumbled back, but there was no escaping the violence dancing in his master’s eyes. With a roar of thunder, it flashed across the room. Catching him around the legs, the blue fire burnt through clothes and flesh alike.
Quinn’s back arched, but as he tried to scream he found his jaw clamped tightly shut. The strength went from him as agony engulfed his entire body. Desperately he clawed at his legs, and screamed again as he saw his flesh melting, the shining white of bone peeking through. Another bolt of lightning struck him, and Quinn twisted, his mind falling away…