Chronicles Of Aronshae (3 Book Omnibus)

by J. K. Barber

  According to custom, the body of Salamasca’s mount, the immense dragon that the Avatar had killed, belonged to the Illyanders. Olivia had traded the rights of the corpse to Tepey Omar in exchange for the sand schooner. While the Tepey was in the tent both Omar and the older scout wore serious expressions, as though the deal that had been struck was onerous for everyone. Once the Tepey had left however, Olivia couldn’t help but smile. They had no use for Walron’s corpse so they were trading something that was worthless to them for the ship. Omar was not being taken advantage of though, and the older Tepey knew it. Olivia informed the Illyanders that the dragon’s scales alone were worth at least twice the cost of the sand schooner. The beast’s fangs and skeleton only sweetened the deal further for the Easterners. The long teeth and bones could be fashioned into weapons that would fetch quite a price as well with the other sultas or in the markets of Tammat. Olivia assured them that the Illyanders had paid for the sand schooner many times over with the dragon’s corpse. The hunter had felt uneasy about the bargain, but could see the logic in it. On the one hand, Sirus was now a dragon and the thought of trading away his former mentor’s body, or those of his sisters, disturbed Jared. On the other hand, Sirus had trained the younger woodsman that when he brought down an animal in the woods that he should never be wasteful with the life that he had taken. Every part of the corpse that could be used should be used, Sirus had taught him.

  Jared looked around at the ship on which they sailed the desert, the radiance of the full moon overhead providing ample light by which to see. It was a sleek vessel, long and narrow with a slowly tapering prow. The hull of the craft itself never touched the sands, though. Instead, the ship rode atop two giant lengths of wood, much like the skis that people in the far north of Illyander used to travel over the snow. The ship’s skis though, were a great deal larger and were mounted on the end of thick timbers that extended away from the hull of the vessel. It was on these wooden runners that the ship skimmed across the desert sand. The mast was shorter than a sea-going ship would have been, but the sails were much wider and able to be pivoted much more quickly. The craft had no rudder and so had to rely on the angle of the sails to the wind to steer it.

  The boat tilted slightly as the Easterner steering the ship altered its course to avoid one of the few larger sand dunes in this part of the Aishe. As part of the bargain Olivia had struck with Tepey Omar, the services of the ship’s pilot and four crewmen had been contracted for three moons. Regardless of the outcome of the coming battle with the Ice Queen, the Illyanders would not need the crew, or the ship, for any longer period of time. Jared adjusted his stance to account for the slant of the deck almost automatically and then smiled to himself. For a man who had never set foot on a ship a year and a half ago, he was surprised at how well he had adapted. The hunter watched as the boat slipped around the bulk of a huge hill of sand and then adjusted its course back to their original heading. This deep in the desert there weren’t many big dunes. The terrain was mostly a flat featureless expanse of sand. There were smaller dunes, but the truly large ones were few and far between. As they traveled closer to the western coast though, the dunes would become larger and more frequent. Olivia had explained the reason for the change in landscape to Jared, but with all the information that the hunter had had to assimilate, it had become lost in the enormous amount of knowledge that had been shoved into his mind over the last few weeks.

  As usual though, Jared preferred to rely on what he saw. To the northwest lay a shimmering expanse of desert, unbroken as far as his eye could see. Somewhere over the horizon awaited the Ice Queen and her undead dragons. Talas had taken to calling them Death Drakes. The hunter had not seen the creatures himself, but the descriptions that his companions had given him based on their brief sighting filled Jared with dread. Katya had assured them that the Illyanders need only concern themselves with Salamasca and whatever Shadow Walkers she had with her, but Jared had seen the fear in his friends’ eyes. The reanimated dragons were worthy of their concern. The plan was for Tomas to handle the Death Drakes while they dealt directly with Salamasca, but Jared knew that things rarely went according to plan, especially where the Ice Queen was involved.

  There was nothing the hunter could accomplish worrying about what might go wrong. The plan was the best they had come up with, and they had to see it through. Jared turned his head and thoughts back to where they had come from. To the east, the hunter could just barely see the tall pillars of stone that grew out of the desert, reaching for the cloudless blue sky. According to a legend Jared had heard in Simza, these rocky towers had once all been a part of the same mountain range. However, an angry goddess had torn down most of the peaks with a brutal years-long sandstorm searching for the lover of one of her mortal followers. This particular aspect of the Mother, the hunter could not recall the Easterner’s name for the deity, demanded that her worshipers, both male and female, give their bodies to only her. Jared shook his head, bewildered by how different things were here in the land of his father than in Illyander. The hunter wondered, again, if the ways of the west seemed as strange to the Easterners. Given the disparity between the two peoples’ religious views, Jared assumed that would have to be the case.

  The woodsman turned his mind away from such esoteric concerns. What mattered most was the path that lay before him. He once again marveled at their ship and its rapid progress across the sands of the Aishe. That the Illyanders now owned such a vessel was amazing to him, all the more because they had purchased it with the corpse of a dragon. Olivia had assured him that Simza had gotten the better end of the deal by far. After all, the Easterners could build a new sand ship. The rights to plunder the body of a dragon were truly a unique opportunity.

  The only downside to the bargain for the Easterners was that the flesh of the dragon would have to be discarded. The creature’s meat, which would have fed the tribe for several moons, was full of corruption. No one dared eat it for fear of the foulness with which the Ice Queen had infected the dragon. The Easterners had even gone so far as to burn the meat so that the carrion birds of the Aishe would not consume the flesh and be poisoned.

  Jared made his way back below deck, waving to the tall slender man steering the vessel before opening the door that led to the cabins beneath. The white cloth, which would have normally been suspended above the pilot by a simple lattice of ropes and poles during the day to shield him from the burning sun, was pulled back now. The bright moonlight, made even more radiant by its reflection off the white sands of the Aishe, illuminated his mahogany-colored skin. The pilot did not return the hunter’s gesture, actively pretending the jai-jin did not exist. Jared shrugged. He was too consumed with the thoughts of more important matters than to be concerned with the man’s prejudices.

  The area underneath was tiny and cramped, but blessedly devoid of flying sand. As the hunter removed the cloth wrappings that covered his head, the rest of the Illyanders looked at him from where they sat with amused expressions on their faces; they had known better than to go up on deck as the sand schooner sped to the northwest. The hunter fought down his irritation, knowing that its ultimate source was his discomfort in confined spaces and not his companions’ smug looks.

  Katya, on the other hand, simply looked tired. The sorceress had driven herself to exhaustion, making sure everyone was completely healed before they left Simza. The small amount of sleep she had gotten while arrangements for their departure were made had been just enough to sustain her through the healings. However, once she had gotten on board, the sorceress had fully succumbed to slumber. A tiny cot that folded down from the rear wall of the small cabin had been the sorceress’ nest ever since. Now, a bleary eyed Katya was devouring a small feast of dried meat, bread and cheese. A drained waterskin lay discarded on the floor next to her.

  The hunter crossed the small cabin and sat next to Sasha, placing his arm around her shoulders. The swordswoman leaned into him, quietly placing her head on his shoulder. Jared’s thoughts
turned to his son and to Iluak, in whose care they had left Gabriel. The young man had very much wanted to bind himself to Katya, thereby becoming the infant’s uncle. The young sorceress had denied him the union though, claiming it would be too cruel a thing to do to Iluak. She did not want to make the therianthrope a husband and widower in the same week. So, instead she pushed him away, denying, in Iluak’s mind at least, her true feelings for him.

  Though the revelation, to Jared if not to Sasha, about the situation between Iluak and Katya had made the hunter feel slightly better about the decision to leave Gabriel in the therianthrope’s care, it was an infinitesimal sliver compared to the mountain of sorrow that lay on Jared’s heart as he held Sasha in his arms.

  The hunter leaned down and whispered in the redhead’s ear. “I am an idiot,” he said, without a trace of humor or self-deprecation. “Here I have been thinking about how sad I am that I might never see our son again, and I have completely missed how horrible the situation must be for you.” Sasha sat up, raising her hood so that only Jared could see her red-rimmed eyes as she looked questioningly at him, but she did not speak.

  “After we defeat the Ice Queen,” Jared continued. “You will be lost to me, but I at least have the consolation that should we succeed, I can be reunited with Gabriel.” Tears began to well up in Sasha’s eyes again, as she sensed what the hunter was going to say next. “Regardless of the outcome,” Jared said, “whether we win or lose against Salamasca, and I have to believe in my heart that we will triumph…,” the woodsman’s voice struggled as tears welled up in his own eyes. After a few moments he was able to continue. “In triumph or defeat,” he said, “you will never see either of us again.” Jared placed his hand to Sasha’s cheek. “I am so sorry,” he said. “I would gladly take this burden from you if it were within my power.”

  “I’ve come to terms with it,” the swordswoman said softly. “No, it is not easy, but I’ve known this would happen. Even before Gabriel was born, I knew that I would not survive no matter the outcome of our fight with Salamasca.” Sasha took Jared’s chin in her hand. “But it is the fact you and Gabriel will survive that sustains me. It is why I asked you to leave before our last confrontation with the Ice Queen. I could have taken the path that my sister chose and distance myself from those that love me in an attempt to make the separation less painful.” The hunter spared a quick glance at the sorceress but then returned his gaze to look into Sasha’s deep green eyes. “But, it is our love, and our love for our son, that reminds me what I fight for, what I will die for. I can only hope that, as our vows said, ‘we shall be born again at the same time and in the same place as each other…’”

  “’And we shall meet, and know, and remember and love again,’” the hunter said, completing the words of their vows to one another. Jared said no more, simply pulling the redhead to his chest.

  Sasha gently snuggled her face into Jared’s shoulder and the hunter felt her body softly shake with silent tears. He entwined both arms around Sasha’s shoulders and held her tightly, secretly praying that he could never let her go for the rest of his days, knowing that for them all to survive the Great Mother could not answer his prayer.

  Chapter 13

  The dragons were too big to enter the Nhyme village, not to mention the sight of them flying in would terrify the tiny inhabitants, so Tomas coached Sirus how to change into his human form in the Ley Lines before re-entering Aronshae. Learning to transform was Tomas' last lesson, an ability the woodsman would need in the years to come, especially since he would be the last dragon on Aronshae after his mentor's passing. The former dragon guardian now carried Sirus, a chubby babe, in his arms with difficulty. Tomas kept having to raise his knee to support and reposition the large infant in order to not drop him.

  "Could you have eaten at least one less shark this week?" the sandy-haired youth asked with irritation, as he stumbled over a root and got his foot caught in the hem of his blue velvet robe. Recovering from what would have been a nasty fall, one every parent fears with his child in his arms, Tomas looked down at Sirus. He was grinning ear to ear, his purple eyes sparkling in the sunbeam filtered through the sieve that was the forest canopy, and babbled a few incoherent phrases. The sorcerer sighed and continued forward, closing the distance between the small crystal mound and the village that Chyla was now in charge of after her father's death. Elder Razorik's wife and Chyla's mother, Lady Amara, served only as council to the new leader, letting their heir reinvent the role with the freshness of youth.

  Tomas felt saddened for yet another reason; this was his second time back to the Blodwood after his friend's passing in the catacombs of Aeirsga, the first being his attendance at the funeral. Razorik had seen his daughter's death in one of his lunar visions and had died to prevent it. The dragon could relate to his saving his daughter's life; Tomas was about to sacrifice his own life to save a child of his clutch. It was amusing to him that their fates seemed to mirror each other. Regardless, Razorik was the one being on this world who Tomas had shared his true identity with before Salamasca began stirring up trouble at Snowhaven. The elder Nhyme had been a true friend and was sorely missed.

  Cumo, the Nhyme's head warrior, and his fellow village guard flew slowly on minute iridescent wings behind Tomas at a respectful distance, letting the boy set the pace. The dragon was well known as the Ancient One to the rest of the Nhyme people and was honored among them as a friend and ancient sage. Chyla, it seemed, had set a permanent guard on the crystal nexus, given the increased number of visitors in the past couple of years and the fact that the Ice Queen was still at large. She wanted to be the first to know when someone came through, so that a flitter, a Nhyme runner, could be sent ahead to warn the village. Cumo would have carried the baby for Tomas if he and his men combined had been strong enough. Instead they served as a rear guard, ever keeping a watchful eye out for danger with tiny hands clutched around sticks sharpened into spears.

  Chyla was waiting for them herself as they approached the village at the heart of the Blodwood, wearing a long dress made of interwoven leaves in the many colors of fall and a wreath of white flowers in her waist length blond hair. She nodded to Tomas and gestured with a wave of her staff to enter. Tomas immediately recognized the twig with a crystal imbedded in its top as her father's. It suited her well, he thought. Several hundred of the village's inhabitants stood outside their homes that were fixed into the trees above. The dwellings resembled nests but were built into tiny houses, vines holding together the walls and attaching their brightly-dyed front doors. Tomas did his best to smile to them. The gesture was well received, but the Nhymes' eyes were drawn to the baby in his arms. Some of the Nhyme children actually hid their frightened faces from the sight.

  The Blodwood's newest chief silently escorted them to the base of a massive oak, whose upper branches had cradled the home of her family for the last six generations. With his keen draconian eyes, Tomas could see the large house, by Nhyme standards, high up in the branches, crystalline shards decorating the wooden structure daintily. Lady Amara greeted them, having patiently waited for them to arrive. The Nhyme matron looked older than Tomas remembered; her face was more drawn and wrinkled, evidence that her husband's death had been a crushing blow to her both emotionally and physically. She was still beautiful Tomas thought, her blond hair that matched her daughter's flowing like a river of gold down her dress of pale ivy. Amara no longer wore a crown of white flowers though, instead opting to keep her head bare.

  Lady Amara smiled at Tomas and opened her arms, drawing his attention to her feet where a human baby-sized bed of moss. It had been hastily laid between two roots of the great tree above and easily could have fit a dozen Nhyme inside its depths. The boy lowered Sirus into it thankfully, his arms already sore from carrying the child so far. Tomas felt lighter with the extra weight gone from his person.

  The Nhyme matron's smile faded instantly at the sight of the naked baby boy before her. Tomas thought maybe he should have at least wrappe
d Sirus in a swaddling cloth; he was exposed for all to see. Sirus did not seem to mind, cooing happily as if nothing were amiss. Lady Amara flitted to the side of the bed along with her daughter. Chyla stared agape, not hiding her shock in the slightest; she had been so caught up in formalities that she had yet to glimpse the condition of the child who Tomas had been carrying. The older Nhyme woman ran a hesitant finger along one of Sirus' black veins, clearly showing through his ashen skin. Tomas had gotten used to the sight but relived seeing the result of Salamasca's corruption in its most appalling form once more through the Nhymes' horrified expressions. His former student had corrupted a helpless babe, a fact obvious for all to see. Chyla tenderly touched the vicious scar on Sirus' left shoulder; a stab wound long healed yet its edges were still red and angry looking on his pale human flesh. Tomas knew the injury had been caused when Salamasca had originally stabbed blindly into his dragon egg, but he didn't remember it looking that atrocious when Sirus was in dragon form. He guessed the former woodsman's scales had hidden that particular characteristic.

  "What in the world happened to him?" Amara asked, her voice shaky as she looked up at Tomas.

  "This is Sirus, one of the clutch I was protecting. His egg resided in the crystal cluster in the Frozen March, where Salamasca built her Glacial Palace. She...," Tomas paused, fighting down the anger that threatened to bubble up from his gut. Anger would unnecessarily frighten the Nhyme, and that was the thing he wanted least to do. His voice even again, Tomas continued, "Salamasca corrupted the crystal and then chipped away a few shards. She stabbed them into the dragon eggs that had been encased in the crystal before she carved them out. The half dozen dragons that survived the experiment hatched this way. He is the last of his clutch." Tomas gave the two Nhyme women, the greatest healers alive on Aronshae, a few moments more to study Sirus before making his request. "I offer my life force to fuel his healing."