Legacy: Book #3, the Fire Chronicles

by Susi Wright

  His unique talent gained momentum with his flight. No shield. For this task, he needed to be seen. He cast a mental net, a challenge, as he gained on the creature.

  You want me! Take me . . .

  . . . I am ready and willing!

  Chapter 33 : ESPIRA

  Her vision was now a horrible reality.

  The sky was slashed by heavy purple streaks; steely thunderheads amassed over the mountains, foreboding a dark day ahead.

  Bizarre, gloomy, it felt exactly like her nightmare. Today, it was not a rocky cliff she climbed, but Ra's rough, scaly neck, to a vantage point just behind his head.

  Instead of midnight, it was a dismal dawn.

  The advance of the enemy was clearly visible. Row upon row of barbarian giants lumbered in a relentless, slow tide into the valley below.

  It would be more than an hour until the entire horde was in place for the ground attack and the rescue; perhaps longer still, until it was time for dragon-fire.

  In the middle of all that, Ji would gallop full tilt into mortal danger with very little she could do to help. The wait only increased the tension.

  Espira swallowed down a nauseous lump in her throat, as she gazed at those beings she would annihilate. The power in her hands was terrifying! After all, she had not actually witnessed Zorg habits. Could anything be so evil as to deserve this?

  Yes! These are demons! Even though their depravity pervaded her senses and settled like bile in her gut, just for a moment her resolve wavered. She stroked Ra's hide for solace. He responded with a guttural rumble of encouragement, exhaling a puff of hot vapour.

  With that, all vacillation was banished; Espira continued to survey the scene below in a new steely calm. Reflection would change nothing.

  An hour passed before the reason for this quest came in to view. The reason they would all do what had to be done.

  Bound and chained together, behind the mass of giants, trailed over a hundred, bedraggled Morvian captives – men, women and children – the last of their race!

  These were other people like Melu, dear friend of her father's for as long as she could remember. He, his wife and children were part of her own family; they had thrived in their new home in the Capital.

  Espira recalled how Melu shed tears of frustration when he was forced to stay behind for his own sake. He now waited in fervent hope for his fellow Morvians to be given the same chance to survive.

  This knowledge doubled Espira's resolve.

  These people need me. For them, for my father . . . for Melu and the Alliance, I must harden my heart for what is to come!

  There was no other way. No negotiations. The lives of the innocent were precious. These diabolical monsters must die!

  At that moment, the Gaian archers broke their cover in the treetops and swooped in, raining arrows and mystical confusion. Taken by surprise, the befuddled giants began milling about, bellowing in pain, as many a well-aimed shaft took out an eye.

  Another cascade of arrows arced from the tree-line to the front ranks, finding similar marks. Several giants toppled, blinded and bleeding. Provoked by flowing blood, others set upon them in a frenzy. Many more joined the mayhem by throwing spears into the air or swinging mace-and-chain, mindless of a target.

  At the signal, the valiant riders charged out of the forest at full gallop, leaning low over their samblars' necks to avoid whirling maces. Sharp and clear on their targets, they descended on the enemy. In a flurry of slashing swords, the first wave of riders managed to slice through a forest of trunk-like legs, even felled a number of the giants, like grotesque bloody trees. Some of those brave cavalrymen died in the attempt, unable to avoid the blow of a mace or club, before the second call came to peel off in two directions around the milling horde.

  From her viewpoint, Espira scanned the sea of hulking bodies. It was easy to distinguish the larger specimens, the Dominants. Xandor's archers had incapacitated several, their fates now sealed as their underlings dragged them down.

  In quick succession, each segment of the Baramese army engaged in a different task, led by their captains, Xandor, Stolis and Jimbu. Once again, Espira felt humbled by these accomplished veterans.

  The battle was escalating; Espira had to use her senses more than her eyes to keep track of everything. So far, her mind-sight encompassed the greater part of the scene – but for how long? Once she entered the fray, it was anyone's guess how much control she really had.

  Only she and a select few knew the Cymbians were now infiltrating the rear guard, doing whatever necessary to free the captives.

  Hidden in the woods nearby, Ji waited with his crack band of riders, ready to move in, hoping to create enough havoc for them all to get away.

  A wave of anxiety caused her to fidget. She had very little time before her task began, to search out his position, to use the Link to protect him.

  Ji saw the signal to action, as bonds and chains fell to the ground. On his urging, Storm surged forth and at once, Ji was alarmed by something else.

  Shuul, suddenly visible and badly wounded, lay sprawled on the ground at the feet of a Zorg! The dazed giant had not yet noticed, flailing his club in the air at the swooping archers. Ji grabbed up the rein of a loose samblar, pulling it with him as he spurred his mount on at a gallop; his men closed in behind, drawing swords and pumping their heels.

  He yelled over his shoulder, “Follow the plan! I will get Shuul. Just cover me!”

  Ji burst from the treeline, towards the injured Cymbian. Around Shuul, bewildered captives, registering that their bonds had been cut, began to run in all directions away from their captors. Two riders took off in a round-up to keep them together, gesturing wildly into the woods, where the runners would find waiting mounts.

  A Morvian man and woman bravely stayed with Shuul, realising it was the Cymbian who had freed them. Between them they clutched his arms, trying to drag him with them to safety. Half-starved and weak, they struggled.

  One of Shuul's men had seen his chief fall. He abandoned his camouflage, joined them and hefted the larger man across his own shoulders, but ended up in a heap after only a few steps.

  By now, the nearest Zorg guard and two others had noticed the wounded Cymbian, despite the confusion. The close smell of blood took precedence; they advanced, drooling copiously at the prospect of a timely meal. Wielding huge studded clubs, they bore down on the injured man and his rescuers.

  Just in time, the riders swept in between, leaning low, slashing at legs, while Ji leapt from his mount beside the struggling couple.

  With their aid, he bundled Shuul across Storm's saddle. He threw the reins of the spare samblar to the Morvian man and pointed to the trees, shouting above the din, “Take your woman and ride – that way!”

  To the Cymbian, “Disappear, man! Get to safety, I have this!”

  In one fluid movement, he was in the saddle behind Shuul, setting to a gallop for the trees. Seconds later, he placed the injured man in the hands of a waiting comrade. Then, riding like the wind, he returned to the fray, still intent on the rescue.

  Meanwhile, an insightful Gaian archer swooped past and back again, letting fly his last two arrows. Each found a target. His victim staggered, roaring and clutching both eyes. Blood spurted between the monster's fingers, spraying the ground all around.

  This gave the advantage to Ji's men. Between them, they managed to down the blinded giant who became fodder for the other two; then one-by-one, ever-ravenous Zorgs joined the feeding frenzy, forgetting all about the escaping prisoners.

  This was the distraction Ji and his men needed to get the remaining Morvians clear. They carried the weakest, mainly children and some of the women, pulling them aboard their own mounts, deposited them at the tethered samblars and went back for others. Dozens more ran as fast as they could towards the woods.

  By the time the riders had made several more forays, almost everyone had reached the forest, running or riding out of the danger zone. Ji and his men had picked up all the s
low or injured, except one.

  On the far side of the valley, near the tree-line, a small Morvian child lay, crying out in terrible pain, unable to move. One leg jutted at an awkward angle. There was a dead adult beside him. It seemed the injured two had almost made it into the forest before they fell. But soon, even above the cacophony of battle, his high-pitched wailing was bound to be noticed by the enemy.

  Ji waved off assistance from his men, instead ordering them to attend to the Morvians, remounted and charged out on to the field one more time.

  Espira caught a brief glimpse of Ji's lone sortie, saw him lean low in one stirrup, scoop up the child and make for the trees on the other side of the field at full gallop, before the blast of a bovino-horn took her attention.

  Xandor's urgent signal resounded across the valley. Her signal.

  Hurry, Ji! He was a good rider. His samblar was fast. It had to be enough. There was no time to wait. It was time to finish this!

  She slid down to her position astride Ra's back, feeling the creature's entire body tense, muscles bunching, as he absorbed her focus for take-off. His massive wings unfurled, spanning the entire clearing and he snorted loudly, in a spray of white-hot sparks.

  Espira's attention had to be fully on the enemy and her own mission. Everything now depended on intuition and mind-skill, for there was no instruction on how to ride a dragon into battle!

  She grabbed the end of the broad leather thong encircling the dragon's neck and wound it tightly around her forearm.

  Up, Ra!

  Chapter 34 : ARDIENTOR

  Locked on to the dark force, Ardientor sped through the air on a summoned wind, willing the thing to sense his power.

  As he flew, a pristine exhilaration crept over him: a mystery which had long frustrated him unravelled with its own irony. Instead of being the source of empty discontent, here was now a glorious use for all the things he hated about himself.

  From deep down in his soul, he dragged up all the resentment, anger and self-acrimony lurking there and concentrated it into an invitation, all the more compelling for the truth of those emotions.

  Come – I hate him more than you do! I will help you kill him! I am his son, heir to his title and the people expect it. They love me. The title is eternal. His influence is sweeping the Known World and beyond. I am destined to be your vessel – your magic, mine in return! Together, we shall possess the Supreme Power and rule all the lands in Existence, forever! I know what you intend. Trust me . . . even if you consume his flesh and his soul . . . alone, you will eventually fade!

  Ardi felt the tug on his mind-sight as the entity in the wolf responded to his call. The connection was made.

  Two heartbeats and he sighted the beast, almost upon the heels of his father's mount. There was Beris, abreast of his charge, lead rein and his own reins in one hand. His left hand wielded a switch, a last resort, desperately flaying the samblar to a faster pace. He had no chance to draw sword.

  Distracted by Ardi's approach, the wolf slowed to a lope. It turned a shaggy grey head to fix him with a cunning pair of yellow eyes.

  You promise much, hybrid creature . . . perhaps I will test the truth in it!

  It was then that Ardientor perceived the wraith, a dark amorphous shape, its ghostly tentacles anchored to the weak life force of its lupine host. Suddenly, he could detect a mystical connection between its vengeful presence and the poison which lingered in his father's body.

  Ardi infused his invitation with an irresistible charm, the full force of his secret burgeoning talent.

  I know what I promise, dark friend . . . You may attach yourself to me – your ambitions will be realised, to have revenge on the one who banished you and to live in the real world forever . . .and my dream will come true, to take my father's place! Come, spell your magic to me . . . I need it all to carry out my plan, to fulfil my glorious destiny!

  Beris charged ahead, leading the other samblar. The gap between prey and predator widened, as the wolf slowed to a jog. Its yellow eyes remained fixed on Ardientor, as the wraith vacillated, irresistibly drawn to him. I came to find my nemesis, but perhaps . . . finding you is even better!

  With a surge of exultation, Ardi felt the connection strengthen, the ability to control another being. He recognised the Source of all power and with that, came the identity of the wraith.

  Yes – much better! Come closer . . . Nimr, my friend!

  The wolf-host stopped in its tracks, eyes wide with consternation.

  How do you know my name? No being, in any realm, has ever understood my name!

  Ardientor slowed his flight to hover in the air just above the wolf, returning its speculative stare with piercing green eyes almost identical to his father's, and just as compelling.

  You have never encountered one like me! I am among the first of my kind and I understand more than anyone has ever realised. For instance, I know you have used your attachment to the poison and Father's weakness to escape your prison, to find your way here. But it is me you were meant to find! My talents multiply as I mature. Already I can summon dragons! Believe me . . . together, we will acquire what is rightfully ours!

  With obvious effort, the wolf-thing broke eye contact. The animal paced back and forth, hungrily, casting quick glances towards the sounds of its prey escaping. Nimr, it seemed, was not quite convinced.

  The eyes of his mangy host were deeply suspicious, as they flicked back to pin Ardientor.

  Why do you not simply do this yourself, if you are so clever, hybrid child?

  Ardientor knew Nimr would challenge him. The dark wraith possessed formidable percipience and guile, derived from centuries of hiding in the shadows of the Ancient Realm, evading the watch of the Guardians. Not an easy subject for a first experiment. Nevertheless, Ardi sensed he had a slight edge. Behind an ever-strengthening mental shield, his intuition led the way, galloping forth like a charging samblar, sure and brave.

  Good question, my friend! You are also clever . . . so you must understand the power of Destiny . . . and know why you are here! Her will can never be gainsaid! The forces of both dark and light must join Her march, dance to Her tune.

  You are drawn inexorably to the Fires – as are all beings. The time of the Primal Fire has begun! This legacy can only be realised in the hands of a child of the Alliance. A child who has the mind-sight and unique power to merge both forces – Me! I need a source of dark magic – you! You can not be part of it . . . unless you are part of me. To survive, you must accept my offer or, ultimately, face going back to your prison, to languish in everlasting limbo.

  To properly inherit the title and its power, it can not be tainted. Do as I say and remove the poison, Nimr, for you will be rewarded beyond your wildest dreams! Come, let go of Luminor and your host . . . I welcome you!

  Ardientor understood he had just harnessed the power of an edict. Nimr could not refuse the invitation. His body felt like it was on fire except, instead of pain, there was euphoria. Deep within the familial Link, he sensed a release. It was a hopeful sign.

  He observed the wolf-beast slump weakly to the ground as the wraith extricated its hold and took nebulous form, leaving the diseased animal in its true condition, wounded and starved.

  For some reason, Ardi felt an urgent need to glance down and touch his silver armband. The ruby eyes glinted back at him, reassuringly. He surrendered to the Eternal Flame, the deepest, most secret part of his soul, opening a clear channel to allow the flow of power.

  Then, in morbid anticipation, he watched the dark creeping thing slither towards him . . .

  Chapter 35 : RA

  The dragon heard the sacred call.

  Part of his rider in every sense, temporal and ethereal, Ra responded without question. Sensitive to every nuance of Espira's mental direction, he ascended high above the battlefield, the massive wings beating in time with her heart.

  Espira experienced a surge in confidence as her mind touched Ra's. The connection familiar now, it seemed natural to gu
ide him, similar to riding a samblar, but the sheer size, spirit and flight of a dragon made it far more glorious, and challenging.

  Ra, like any wyvern, possessed wisdom and perception beyond that of any other creature. However, from time immemorial, dragons were bound to the realm of Existence by sacred duty to protect mortals, therein, always destined to partner with another soul.

  Also approaching her age of maturity, Espira empathised easily with her dragon, a young adult with little experience in the use of the most volatile element in any realm – dragon-fire.

  They needed each other to exact victory here.

  Their flight skimmed just under the gathering clouds, still high enough to be able to scan the scene thoroughly. Even though she trusted Xandor's judgement in sounding the horn, it would not hurt to double-check that all Morvians and Baramese soldiers, including Ji, were clear, before she unleashed hell on the enemy.

  She was satisfied. The only forms she could see moving on the field below were Zorg hulks in action. At this moment, she witnessed their barbarism.

  The fracas down there begged belief, a horrible bloody mess of gorging giants; they consumed fallen cavalrymen, samblars, unlucky prisoners and each other, indiscriminately. Espira's stomach turned in disgust. She fought the urge to vomit. It was time to act!

  She gave the spoken command to attack, “Ra!” guiding him in for the first swoop. Her stomach flipped again with speed of the dive. Heart beating like a drum, her emotions raced as she focussed on the enemy. No healing here, only one Fire – the Destroyer!

  Ra let loose a continuous burst of red flame, far more powerful than any other form of fire. Beyond simply burning, it completely obliterated all it touched to dust and smoke. Within minutes, hundreds of blood-crazed giants became piles of white-hot ash, the air filled with a choking pall of acrid smoke.