As he trudged through Ceere’s streets in search of the nearest inn, Balear turned the conversation over in his head. General of the First Army of Lodia? He couldn’t decide whether he felt honored or disgusted.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Kindred Spirits
Iren howled as he hit the ground hard. Ten feet away, Rondel stood, arms crossed.
“We won’t stop this until you land a blow!” she roared. “Now hurry up and attack!”
Cursing, Iren struggled to his feet, massaging the new burn on his right arm. “Hit me,” Rondel had said. Since she’d said those two words yesterday afternoon, he’d lost count of how many injuries he’d sustained. This one would heal just as all the others had, thanks to the Muryozaki in his left hand, but that didn’t make it hurt any less.
It also didn’t help that he was starving. The last time he’d eaten was the plate of food his miniature Kodaman jailor had brought him.
Finally, to make the situation just that much more intolerable, Rondel hadn’t budged an inch since they’d started. She simply stood there, as immovable as any of Ziorsecth’s trees. Anytime Iren got close to her, she sent out a jolt of electricity from the end of her right index finger. It wasn’t enough to kill, but each one knocked Iren flat and left him writhing for a few seconds.
Gritting his teeth, Iren looked around for anything that could give him an advantage, but he’d long since tried everything he could think of. He’d attempted feinting, weaving, even climbing one of the nearby tree trunks and trying to surprise Rondel from above. Every time, the decrepit buzzard used the same counter, and every time, it worked.
Next, Iren attempted to sneak up on her from behind. Just as he raised his arm to strike, the finger appeared from over Rondel’s shoulder. The blue bolt landed with perfect accuracy.
“Get up, slacker!” Rondel taunted. “This is no time for a nap!”
Iren tasted blood; he’d bitten his lip on his way down. “I’m really questioning your teaching style.”
“Do something about it then.”
Gritting his teeth, Iren muttered, “Fine.” Short-range attacks weren’t working. To hit Rondel, he needed a long-distance strike. Since he didn’t have a bow, that left him one option: magic. He focused, trying to remember how he’d felt when he’d used it previously. Against Zuberi and Balear, the magic had come instinctively. Both times, he’d done it without the Muryozaki. Now though, just like in the cage in Yuushingaral, he couldn’t feel it at all.
His frustration deepened. Rondel wielded her magic easily enough. Why on Raa couldn’t he do the same? Incensed, he stomped his foot against the ground.
A glow, ever so tiny, appeared in his right hand. He stopped, wondering if it could really be that simple. Now that he thought about it, it made sense. Fighting Zuberi, he’d felt furious at Rondel’s apparent death. Against Balear, he’d gotten angry over the delay in getting Minawë to Ziorsecth.
He focused again, this time concentrating on all of Rondel’s insults. He thought about his childhood, and the way people treated him like a demon. Finally, he let Amroth’s face appear in his mind’s eye, the arrogant face that lied and said it cared before bathing Haldessa in flame.
The white beam erupted with a deafening bang, the tip forming the head of a dragon as it engulfed the spot where Rondel stood. Iren panicked, certain that he had not only landed a hit but slain the old woman as well. A second later, however, a slight breeze wafted behind him, and a single finger pressed into the back of his neck.
The jolt ripped through his body, and he crumpled to the ground. Rondel walked into his field of vision and sat cross-legged in front of him, annoyance on her wrinkled face. “You used that spell to kill Zuberi.” It was not a question. “It would probably kill me, too, if you could actually hit me with it.”
Iren tried to reply, but he couldn’t make his mouth move. In fact, none of his muscles would respond, no matter how much he struggled.
“Don’t bother,” Rondel said, like she could read Iren’s mind. “I gave a sharp burst of lightning magic directly to your spine. It overloaded your nervous system. You can breathe, and your heart will keep beating. Any voluntary motion, however, is impossible for at least the next fifteen minutes. All the better, since I want you to shut up and listen.”
If Iren could have changed his expression to glare at the sadistic bat, he would have.
“You’ve used magic before, but that attack proves you don’t know anything about it,” Rondel criticized. “That beam had great power, but it was also slow, predictable, and used an incredible amount of energy. You only have so much environmental magic at any given moment, and Divinion’s power is also limited for reasons we previously discussed. You have to use spells strategically. What would have happened if we’d been fighting for real just now? You’d have exhausted your energy in that one blow, leaving you powerless. By contrast, consider me. I’ve used magic to hit you constantly for the last day, yet I could still deliver a blow that, in an actual battle, would have killed you. I’d have plenty of time to finish you while you lay there helpless.”
Iren half-listened to Rondel’s words, more focused on the mistake the old hag had just made. She considered her technique so perfect that she hadn’t bothered disarming him. The Muryozaki still sat in Iren’s grip, and Divinion’s magic was already healing the damage from Rondel’s blow.
He had plenty of rage to channel into the magic this time. As it built up, unable to release thanks to his paralysis, he began to sense its flow. It pulsed through his body like blood. Concentrating on it, he found he could direct it wherever he wanted it to go. That gave him an idea. The large beam moved slowly, but if he gave the magic a smaller outlet, maybe he could increase its speed. Instead of his whole fist, he would channel the magic into a single finger on his right hand.
Without warning, he fired. Instead of a broad beam, however, the attack was thin and focused. Its smaller size reduced its power, but when it struck Rondel in the gut, it still launched her backward twenty feet. Iren leapt up, fully healed, and raced toward Rondel with a smile on his face. “How about that?” he cried.
The old woman dusted herself off. “Not bad,” she replied, nodding. “Now we move on.”
“Move on to what?”
Rondel closed her eyes. “To this.” She opened them again, and Iren blanched at the sparks flashing in them.
“I went easy on you before,” she said. “This time, the exercise is the same, but I won’t hold back. You’ll face Lightning Sight and the same speed I used to kill those Quodivar in Veliaf.”
Iren shuddered. He could already feel the lightning bolts striking him. Rondel didn’t attack, however. Instead she abruptly vanished. A second later, she reappeared over fifty yards away, waving animatedly.
Iren’s jaw dropped in dismay. Even running flat out through the underbrush, it would take him over ten seconds to cover the distance Rondel had covered in just one. By the time he reached her, Rondel could easily run off in some other direction.
“Long range then,” he muttered. He channeled magic into his right index finger. His new tight beam was exactly what he needed. It traveled faster than his eye could track. Surely at this range, even Rondel couldn’t avoid it. He raised his finger and pointed it at the crone.
The shot never fired. Just before Iren released the magic, Rondel disappeared again. A second later, she reappeared behind him, kicking him in the back and sending him sprawling. His concentration lost, the energy he had gathered dissipated back into his body.
“Lightning Sight let me read your lips,” Rondel said with a mix of amusement and confusion. “Why do you do that?”
Iren rolled onto his back, coughing in the dirt. “Do what?”
“Talk to yourself. You used to do it at Haldessa too.”
Iren’s brow furrowed. He’d never noticed before. He thought for a moment, and then he said, “Nobody in the castle would talk to me. I guess I just needed some conversation.” He paused. “Hang on. How
do you know I talked to myself at Haldessa?”
Rondel deactivated Lightning Sight and sat on the ground beside him. “Iren, I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“I’ve known of your Maantec heritage from the day Amroth brought you to the castle. I could have taken care of you, raised you, protected you. I did none of those things. Instead, I let my hatred of you cloud my judgment.”
Iren shoved himself to his feet. “What do you mean ‘your hatred of me?’ What did I ever do to you?”
Narrowing her eyes, Rondel murmured, “You were born.”
Iren threw an arm out to his side and roared, “What is this? Everyone in Haldessa hated me because I was a Left. How can you, a fellow Maantec and Dragon Knight, feel the same way? I didn’t choose this life! I didn’t ask to be a Maantec!”
“Do you want to know the truth, Iren? I hate Maantecs. I hate every single one of them. That’s why I betrayed them a thousand years ago.”
Iren’s mind flashed back to Minawë in Akaku, telling him how Rondel was the most famous traitor in Raa’s history.
Rondel continued, “During the Kodama-Maantec War, both sides fought to a standstill. The Maantecs couldn’t penetrate Ziorsecth, and the Kodamas couldn’t make any progress in Serona. The stalemate lasted years. Thousands died on both sides. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. I’d had enough of taking orders and killing because someone else said so. I decided to start a new life, one independent of everyone else. I dedicated that life solely to Okthora’s Law: evil must be annihilated.”
The crone’s wrinkled face became cold and determined. “I started with the Maantecs, a race of fools willing to sacrifice Raa for the sake of conquest. I offered the Kodaman king, Otunë, my support. With my knowledge of Maantec defenses and my power as a Dragon Knight added to his army, we crushed all resistance. We stormed through Serona, wiping out Maantecs until we reached the capital. It should have ended there, but Iren Saito cast his curse and slew the Kodaman battalions.”
She raised her open palms before her face, and they shook horribly. “For a thousand years after that terrible day, I avoided my own species, perfectly content to shun and be shunned in return. That is, until that interfering Amroth had to go and bring you and the Muryozaki into my life.”
“You could have killed him,” Iren pointed out, “or me, for that matter.”
Rondel shook her head. “Evil must be annihilated. You were just an innocent infant. I couldn’t kill you. And while I didn’t trust Amroth, I had no proof against him. Truthfully, what I really wanted to do the moment I laid eyes on you was to flee Haldessa and never return.”
“Why didn’t you?”
She laughed a harsh, self-deprecating bark. “You think I didn’t try? As soon as Amroth left my home, I ran. Then the dreams started. The farther I got from Haldessa, the more I had them. They were all the same. I saw you in some pain or danger. In a few you died. They became so bad I couldn’t sleep. Only in Haldessa could I get any rest. Even there, you were always on my mind. The only way to relieve the dreams completely was to see you. I’ve watched you from the shadows nearly all your life. It made me hate you all the more, because you kept dragging me back to a past I desperately wanted to forget. I dared not let you notice me. If you did, I feared you would seek me out yourself. Then I would never be rid of you.”
Iren stared at the old woman, dumbfounded. He’d never caught her observing him, yet somehow, he knew she spoke the truth. Numerous times, he’d sensed that he wasn’t as alone as he appeared. Most recently, he recalled the shadows moving oddly in the baths before Amroth’s feast. Now he understood. Rondel had been watching him, even there.
“What changed your mind?” he asked. “You revealed yourself to me at the stables.”
“Not by choice.” Rondel scowled. “Amroth forced my hand. I believed that he wanted to use you, that he sought your death. The dreams were bad enough when only the castle wall separated us. If you died, I feared I wouldn’t survive them. I hated you, yet my life was bound to yours. So while my whole being seethed at the thought, I had no choice but to make myself known to you.”
Iren thought back on those early days with Rondel. She’d avoided looking him in the eye, and she’d always had a bottle of some vile alcohol in her hand. A thought occurred to him. “That’s why you drank so heavily. It let you overcome your aversion to me.”
Rondel stared at the ground. “Yes. Sober, I couldn’t bring myself to face you, let alone talk to you. And I had to talk to you. I had to train and protect you so that you stayed alive, not for your sake, understand, but for mine.”
Iren looked at the old Dragon Knight, his head a jumble of emotions. Part of him felt pleased. What Rondel said meant that even though it was in a perverse, self-serving way, she cared about him. Still, a greater part of him felt furious, and that portion ultimately won. With a growl he shouted at her, “I didn’t ask for this! Why me? Thousands of Maantecs died because of you! You went a thousand years without caring for a single one, and then suddenly, you just became obsessed with me? What makes me so special?”
She tried to meet his gaze but couldn’t. Wet spots formed under her eyes. “You and I are more alike than you realize. Do you know why I want the Liryometa back so badly?”
Iren folded his arms. What did that have to do with anything? He said, “You miss Okthora’s lightning magic, the way I missed Divinion’s healing power.”
Rondel shook her head and replied, “Selfish and arrogant, just like him. No, slacker, Okthora has nothing to do with it. I’d want that weapon back regardless, not for what it is, but for who it belonged to.” She paused and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly before saying, “It was my father’s. He used it to protect my family the day they were butchered right in front of me.”
The young Maantec’s anger vanished at once, replaced by horror at Rondel’s revelation. “What happened to them?”
“I lived in Serona at the time, only five years old. My parents farmed rice, a poor life, but we managed. One day, as I played in the fields with my brother, we heard our mother calling for us. My brother went ahead, but I slipped and fell. I cried, hoping he’d come back and carry me. He didn’t. Finally, I picked myself up and ran home. When I got there, the house was burning, and a dozen men surrounded my family. My father defended them with his only weapon. He managed to slay three of the attackers, but in the end he died, along with Mother and my brother. I screamed, but that only made the thugs aware of my presence.”
She halted in her story, choked up. At last she pressed on, “I knew they would kill me. I panicked and ran to my fallen father, begging for him to help me. In desperation, I grabbed his dagger and raised it, but the thugs just laughed at my vain attempt. They struck as one. In that moment, I felt a surge of energy flow through me, like a thunderstorm trapped inside my body was trying to rip itself loose. I still don’t know exactly what happened, because I passed out. When I woke up, though, all the thugs lay dead around me, scorched.”
Iren knew enough about magic to understand. “You used lightning magic without intending to.”
Rondel nodded. “Yes, so I believe, especially because shortly thereafter, who should arrive at the burned wreckage of my home but the Storm Dragon Knight herself? She took me in, raised me, and gave me a new name.”
“A new name?”
“She said that my old name no longer mattered, because that part of me had gone away forever. She asked me what I wanted to be called.”
Rondel smiled sadly, her eyes welling with tears. “Do you know what the Liryometa is? It’s a dagger, sure, but that term can apply to any number of similar weapons. Its round pommel, hilt, and crossguard, however, give it a second, more specific name. It’s called a rondel.”
Iren’s eyes went wide. “You named yourself after your father’s weapon?”
“He protected my family with it, and I swore I’d use it the same way. In time, I even transferred the Storm Amethyst to it, turning it into the Liry
ometa. I have nothing else of my family.”
She sighed and stretched. “When Amroth told me how he found you, I knew you had suffered the same tragedy I went through, and I knew all too keenly the pain you would feel when you grew old enough to know what you had lost. That was why I couldn’t abandon you, even though I hated you. You see, as much as I hated you, I loved you even more.”
For what seemed an eternity afterward, the pair stood silently, the only sound the soft rustle of wind through the late spring leaves.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
The First Army of Lodia
General Balear Platarch of the First Army of Lodia sat alone atop the Tower of Divinion on a hard bed that a few months ago would have disgusted him to touch. Now Iren Saitosan’s abandoned chamber was Balear’s only spot of respite in a world he no longer recognized. Miraculously, it had survived the flames that devoured Haldessa unscathed. It comforted Balear that a tiny shred of the castle he remembered endured.
Even here, though, he couldn’t escape the shouting of the drill sergeants, the snapping of whips, and the incessant crackling of fires. Something was always burning these days. The king delighted in igniting whatever happened to annoy him at any given moment.
With a great effort, Balear heaved himself off the bed and walked to the room’s window. Looking south, he saw a landscape transformed by fire, sweat, and blood. King Angustion had conscripted over half the town of Ceere, including some women and children, to repair the castle. Four months had passed since Balear’s promotion to general, and the citizens had admittedly made impressive progress. They’d completed most of the restoration, more out of fear than loyalty, but it didn’t come close to resembling its former splendor. It had no beauty in it anymore. It simply existed, a disgusting edifice of cold stone atop an empty bluff.
The Wings of Dragons: Book One of the Dragoon Saga Page 20