by Susi Wright
The Guardians had seen fit to send the creature once before to save him. Fate forbid! If weakness was again to befall their beloved leader – if indeed, he could not fetch the dragon himself – was their same wisdom not true now?
The men understood that the constant effort to maintain the edict over his children would certainly take its toll on their leader's energy.
Xandor felt mightily pressed to raise the subject. No longer a green strapling, he had years ago earned his lord's respect, particularly in the organisation of a mission. As Luminor's captain, he spoke frankly. There could be no doubts. The success of the mission was paramount.
“Forgive me, my lord, after what you have just confided, might I make a suggestion?” His gaze held the deepest respect.
Luminor smiled thinly. “I doubt anything would sway you from making it.”
“My lord, I am not lucky enough to be a father, but I can imagine how difficult it must be,” said Xandor. “Perhaps, you could at least relax the hold over your children . . .” He let out his breath. “Or . . . trust them enough to let go completely!”
“Here! Here! Thank you for that, brother Xandor!” piped up Dak, who had always been as unrestrained as the wind.
“I must admit that I agree,” added Sumar gently. “I would be the last to say 'one can never be too protective'.” A sardonic smile admitted his reputation as an obsessive Protector. “But, in the case of your children, already seen to be mature far beyond their years, in so many ways . . .”
Luminor's expression was hard as he listened. The dilemma had always been that certain hybrid offspring had magnified traits from both races. In Espira and Ardientor, that had proven to be both blessing and curse!
Commander Stolis deferred any talk of mystical powers to the experts. Jimbu joined him. Neither knew of edicts.
Luminor was well aware that to make one's own mistakes was a valuable lesson. Control of power and the sacrifice of it was a tricky balance, even for the most percipient disciple of the Ancient Arts.
“I will give it some thought,” replied Luminor simply, taking up his position to meditate. That was the signal for his men to do likewise.
Weighty matters demanded hours of contemplation. When they were done, there was but two hours left to sleep, and for perhaps the last time before events consumed all their energies, it was permissible to dream of loved ones far away. Even Luminor allowed himself to think of his dear Fralii, coping with his children. He hoped she could feel his love across the many leagues which separated them.
Sumar dreamed of his gentle Saria, whose affection he had painstakingly nurtured with his love and protection for years. They had healed each other of the scars of loss. He was devoted to her, and she to him.
Xandor's dreams were full of his flame-eyed wife, the passionate healer, Serafina, whose talents had continued to improve with age. They were childless, but nonetheless, blissfully happy. Strangely, he saw a brief glimpse of her with a swaddled babe in her arms. Perhaps some new magic . . . more likely wishful thinking. It was a dream they shared.
Dak and Jimbu each had a special woman in mind when they slept.
It was almost dawn, still dark in the cave. None noticed the passage of time until the sleepy silence was broken by Luminor's urgent whisper. “Someone is coming!”
Dak and Sumar had also woken, jumping to their feet.
At the sound of movement, the other captains roused themselves, rolling to their feet with hands on the hilt of their swords, but a shake of Luminor's head stayed them. No danger!
A low whistle from the watchman alerted the company to prepare for some visitors. This caused quite a stir, with many human soldiers only half awake, hurrying to strap on their sword belts, some stumbling to grab bow and quiver.
Ji, rudely awakened from a most enjoyable dream of Essie, was swept up in the scramble to arms, which continued far too noisily, until Commander Stolis' booming voice ordered his men to attention. “Quiet!”
Gaian warriors stood silently observing the chaos around them, with amused detachment. Like them, Luminor would have been inclined to wonder if he had somehow misjudged the military efficacy of the human army, but he knew half the volunteers were very young and green. With little time for formal training, those recruits had passed the rigorous testing process by fierce determination and an abundance of natural skill. That youthful fire in their bellies was a very valuable thing. In fact, it had moved them to readiness in quick time, though more quietly would have been preferable.
Luminor swooped to the top of a stalagmite to assure everyone that there was no threat. Calm was restored, albeit with an air of tense expectation.
“It is good that you are assembled. We will take a minute to supplicate the Ancestors, and all that is Holy, for assistance . . .”
This was a daily habit observed by many people under the Alliance, regardless of their particular deities. No-one would argue that an army marching into danger needed some kind of divine protection.
Luminor delivered the inevitable. “The next order of duty is to break fast quickly, saddle and pack up the animals. We move out of here within the hour!”
There was disappointment. This place made for a very comfortable camp. But all, to a man, knew the urgency of their quest and their minds were set to see it through. They were ready.
The quiet was destined to be short-lived; the cave was about to become a hive of activity. Like a call to arms, a disturbing cry rose from the canyon below, closer and closer, louder and louder. The caterwauling became deafening, as a Gaian warrior emerged from the entrance to the cave, escorting three bedraggled morvians, one holding the source of the noise . . . a hungry squirming baby.
All eyes were on the newcomers. The old man was cloaked against the cold. The exposed dark skin of his face, neck and arms was deeply wrinkled, every part of it except his head covered in fine, white hair. Gaunt with age and very weak from his ordeal, he looked about to expire, leaning heavily on his youthful companion, a strongly-built male. The girl appeared to be even younger than the boy, much smaller, bald-headed like all Morvians and with a child-like round face. She cooed affectionately, trying to calm the tiny baby in her long arms. Not much more than a child herself, it begged belief she might have given birth! However, during the mind-opening years of the Alliance, many had learned to expect the unusual.
“Right, men, stop gawking – we have all seen Morvians before!” Commander Stolis gave a familiar, good-natured smile to Jimbu, before giving the order to the assembled men. “Get to your duties – at the double!” Stolis voice always carried well. Instantly, warriors flew into action, while soldiers attended to their respective duties, this time in a suitably collected manner. Most nibbled on dry biscuits as they worked, to save time. The arrival of these first refugees, with remnants of horror etched on their faces, seemed to heighten the urgency. It had brought the harsh reality of impending peril closer.
Introductions were brief, but the welcome was warm. The newcomers were quickly made comfortable after their ordeal, while preparations for the departure of the army continued.
Lelu and her companions were given food, and the baby, his fill of yak-beast milk. Fortunately, some of the female pack-animals could be milked and two of those cows were to be left behind. Lelu, Finn and the old man had brought the baby this far; it seemed Fate herself wanted the little Morvian to survive.
The officers quizzed Finn and Tobu.
Between words and mental pictures, the two Morvian men reported the sad loss of Arin and his burial in the snow and furnished the latest news of the invasion. It was a slaughter. Morvian warriors were loyal and desertion rare. Many brave men had already died defending their country. The army was scattered, too few in number to make much of an impression on the hordes now swarming the countryside. Even Cymbian mercenaries, who had been pestering Morvian farmers with their regular raids for years, had fallen, trying to fight the barbarians. Their strange ability to merge into the environment could not always save the
m from the uncanny sense of smell and voracious appetites of Zorg hunters.
Finn told of sketchy reports that there were still a few Morvian militia, who bravely continued the resistance, but without co-ordination it was futile. North to south, east to west, it was a bloodbath! There was no safe haven anywhere in Morvia. Villagers, farmers, tradesmen and ordinary folk everywhere had no choice but to flee. Most hadn't got far! In such mayhem, no one could know how many survivors there might be.
Luminor assured Finn and Tobu, “I promise you, my friends, we will find as many as we can! Stay here. Look after Lelu and the little one. Say your prayers for yourselves . . . and for us! We are moving out this morning. You have two of my warriors to guard and help you hunt. There are few rations. I do not know how long it will be – or how many we can rescue – but we shall return here, with more of your countrymen!”
With that, he turned on his heels and gave the signal for the company to follow him out through the rocky maze which concealed the cave entrance.
As he walked towards the open track with his officers, Luminor made a quiet announcement. “It is done! I retracted the edict. I feel better already . . . but let us hope it is a wise decision!”
Xandor for one, was sure it was. The others who felt a shift in weight, real or imaginary, were inclined to believe it too.
As they emerged to begin the day's journey, the air felt light and still. Around them, sheer granite cliffs presided majestically, the tops dressed in fresh snow which reflected the purple-grey hues of early dawn.
In the gorge, robust fighting men were dwarfed to mere ants. Their breath turned to steam in the still icy morning, which seemed deceptively calm after last night's raging blizzard. This storm had passed unnoticed in the warm shelter of the cave. The nights to come would hold much less comfort.
Single file, then two and three abreast, they trickled out of the mountain and filled the track, a living river of men and animals, flowing along the base of the canyon; soldiers mounted their steeds at the first opportunity and Gaian warriors took to the air above them.
A watery sun peeped over the craggy peaks to the East, promising a modicum of warmth. Nevertheless, cavalrymen gathered their cloaks more tightly around themselves, anxious to preserve the precious warmth still in their bodies. Beneath them, the bunching muscles of the samblars lent extra heat. The keen animals pranced and danced, fresh from a night of rest.
Hundreds of iron-hard, cloven hooves trotted two-time on the frozen ground, clattering a cacophony of echoes which rose up out of the gorge, sounding the advance. Such evidence of passage had never before broken the frigid silence of these ancient canyons. Like the manic beat of war drums, it heralded a resolute march northwards through these inhospitable mountains, defiant against the odds and driven by noble purpose.
Chapter 16 : UNLEASHED
The rain had stopped, but the night was chill and darkened to pitch. Heavy clouds covered the moon and a shroud of mist hung from tree-top to forest floor.
The silver talisman glinted in her hand as Espira crept towards her goal. She wrapped her cloak and hood closer with a shiver, which came equally from the cold and the anticipation of facing her brother. How much influence do I really have? Just this morning, her own brother had dared, and managed, to cut her. Until recently, she had known Ardi better than he knew himself . . . but now, she was not so sure.
The energy rising in the palm of her hand from the arm-band told her she was very close. A cave? It was difficult to see in the foggy darkness, even with good night vision. Without sense-sight, she was doubly blind. She had no idea if her brother was still angry, or harboured any other dangerous emotions. How would she be received?
Thank the Stars, there was nothing wrong with her reflexes. Earlier, she had been too comfortable in her superiority. He had caught her unawares. She was prepared for anything now. If he attacked, her evasive skill would keep her from harm's way for long enough to appeal to his better nature. Violence would gain nothing, a last resort in defence only.
She was nervous. This morning, there had been hatred in his eyes. How deep is Ardientor's rebellion? She paused, reminding herself that more than good intention was on her side. Have faith in the protection of the elders and the familial Link. It still counts for much!
There was a small cave mouth, just visible in the darkness. She closed the distance quickly, avoiding the slightest foot-fall by an airborne leap. Next to the opening, she flattened against the rocks, holding her breath.
There was no hint of firelight from within. The cave might go deep into the hillside. That would best suit her purpose. Or, had Ardi expected an attempt to find him and deliberately avoided lighting a fire? In that case, he would already be on his guard. Pocketing the arm-band, she palmed her dagger instead, hoping fervently she would not have to use it.
Preparing for a less-than-warm reception, she coiled, cat-like, took a steadying breath and sprang into the opening. It was dark. She tensed at the soft sound of a sigh and a quick movement towards her. She stilled the blade in her hand, but kept its aim.
“How did you find me?” The voice in her ear was tinged with disappointment more than rancour. Ardientor's sword was angled across her throat, a careful six inches away. Just a threat, or she would be dead already.
“Aren't you afraid? I could have killed you!” His teeth flashed a grin in the darkness and he leaned to glare into her eyes, before looking down to the dagger glinting between their torsos, a mere inch from his chest.
“Perhaps we would have killed each other . . .” Espira's words were filled with sadness. “What use is that, Ardi?”
Tense emotion buzzed between them, despite their shields. The impasse was tangible, painful.
Abruptly, Ardientor huffed, relaxing his sword arm. He moved away. There was the sharp ring of steel in sheath and his footsteps as he paced distractedly.
His shape was barely visible to Espira, as he stalked up and down, but his troubled eyes shone a brilliant green, the image of their father's.
She sighed. “We must talk, Ardi,” Her voice was soft. “You know I cannot influence you, it's entirely your choice . . . please!”
A heavy thoughtful silence followed.
Espira waited patiently, drawing on the natural power of compassion. The memory of Ji's words, on how to gentle a flighty samblar, brought an inward smile. 'Wait . . . be still and wait . . . he will come to you!' Of course, Ardi was a great deal more complex than that!
Espira could hear Ardi's heart beating much faster than hers. She guessed it would not only be from the adrenaline of their encounter. He was still troubled. She remained motionless, allowing him valuable time, listening to the only sounds in their silent space until gradually, one heartbeat slowed to match the other. Slow, steady . . . in unison.
Perhaps reason had stilled the pendulum of emotion after all.
Ardientor stopped pacing and flopped down, leaning back against the cave wall, his eyes fixed on a point in space.
Espira took that as an invitation to join him, recognising the familiar sign that he wanted to talk. And she would listen. Thank you!
“First, how did you find me? I thought Father took all that away . . .” His voice still held an edge of resentment.
“Well, for one thing, there was this!” She pulled out the silver armband and held it up. The dragon's eye seemed to glint red with a strange light of its own, even in the darkness. “Do you remember Papa told us about tokens?”
“Yes. The story of how he rescued Mother . . .”
She gently took his hand and placed the talisman in his palm, releasing the smile she had been holding back. “I thought you might be missing it!”
He accepted it, almost reverently, turning it over in his hands.
“Now, if I wasn't trying so hard to be other than your bossy big sister – ,” Her tone was playful. “I would say, 'perhaps you better put it back on, so I can keep track of you!' ”
He was calm enough now to ignore the jibe, sli
pping it on his wrist with a wry smile. “I have always had a strange feeling about this bracelet. I think it calms me. Grandfather told me it was a good luck charm. Do you think it could keep a person safe?”
As the anger and resentment faded from his tone, Espira was relieved to see his good side return. The two had quarrelled often, like most siblings, but there were also good times when they sat close in the quiet night, sharing their feelings in low whispers, about being half-bloods, hybrids, so different from all who had lived before and all their peers. Their future was a mystery.
“It might be coincidence that it is in the form of a dragon, but it is said that Chuli gems will always bring good things to the wearer. I can only say that I believe in Fate, Ardi. There is some reason that it is yours!” She laughed lightly. “It does seem you have been in even more trouble, not wearing it! And I forgive you, by the way, for cutting me!”
“Ha! Point taken! I do hope it still hurts, sister!” he quipped, then changed the subject, his tone suspicious. “So, that was one thing . . . what else? I can see, even with only half my faculties, there is more to tell!”
“First, you and I must put this fighting behind us. Very soon, there will be something far more important to do, and it will need us both. Papa is going to need our help after all!”
“And how do you know all about this . . . when I don't?” The serious edge was back.
“Ardi, please try to understand . . . I can't explain exactly why, but I have known since I was three years old that this time would come. Take consolation that to understand this, I had to ask for help. I didn't find you by myself. The elders are here, and they are on our side. Their wisdom dictates we must do this together. It's going to be dangerous. I am asking for your help . . .”