Legacy: Book #3, the Fire Chronicles

by Susi Wright

  She wondered how well a Zorg could hear, as her heart beat faster, louder, despite her attempt to slow it. Even shielded, that sound alone could give her away. With all her gifts, she could not actually disappear, although she wished the giant would do so – just wander off. Instantly, she berated the thought as craven. She was not a simpering maiden, hiding like a frightened rabbit!

  Warrior blood sang in her veins, even as it seemed the giant had begun to move away. Realisation, that she could not simply let the Zorg go, came with a jolt of certainty that it would return very soon anyway and this hideout was as good as a trap. Her mind-sense and the loud scuffling sounds revealed the giant was clambering up the embankment, not far to the left of her position.

  If she had to fight, it was better in the open where speed and agility were to her advantage.

  She took a steadying breath and dived for the opening, drawing her sword as she scuttled out to stand on level ground, in full view of the Zorg.

  When it gained sight of her, the giant rose to full height and bellowed.

  At a glance, it was much larger than she had thought, many times her height and weight, but it was unarmed and injured quite badly. One leg was slashed almost to the bone, the wounds still bleeding profusely. One eye was a gory hole where it must have taken an arrow and ripped it out.

  It was going to attack head on. No tactics, just brute force.

  Espira poised defensively, hefting her sword from one hand to the other, testing her sore wrist. Let it come!

  The Zorg gave a deafening roar, exposing a huge drooling mouth of sharp yellow teeth, capable of taking off her head in one bite. It shook a bulbous bald head, pinning her with one beady eye and shambled forward, favouring its good leg.

  She ducked behind it in a heartbeat, slashing low, to hack at the Achilles heel, and dived out of reach before the thing whirled around in pain. Damn! Her blade had failed to sever the tendon as she'd hoped, and the Zorg lurched towards her again, madder than before.

  She drew on her power, focussing all her various skills on the present moment. Everything seemed to slow down, take on new clarity. Blessed with such magic, it felt easy. The ponderous size and weakened state of her opponent was a gift from Fate, its unbridled fury, her ally. She could use it, create more confusion in the enemy. It was a fight half-won.

  The Zorg charged forth but faltered, losing sight of Espira as she forward-rolled across its path, coming to her feet to one side. Running across behind its legs, she hacked with all her might. The giant staggered forward, but regained its balance. It roared, crazed with pain. Rolling again, she aimed and slashed at the heel wound, opening it a tiny fraction more, before recovering her position behind it.

  The creature remained upright; huge meaty arms groped wildly around for its attacker. It staggered away, then back towards her emerging scent. Espira crouched, breathing hard, beads of sweat popping out all over her body through her mask of dust. By the Stars, this part wasn't easy!

  The element of danger just went up a notch. She was inclined to curse the lightness of her blade. The rapier was forged from the finest semite steel, a birthday gift from her father. She had once revelled in its beauty and grace but, against this massive opponent, it was of little use.

  She leapt aside to dodge the great seeking hands. Perhaps, I should run after all! Sweat poured from her brow, turning dust to mud; it ran into her eyes and it stung like hell. She wiped it away with the back of her bandaged hand and blinked hard to clear her vision; the idea of fleeing seemed better by the second.

  The Zorg had fallen silent.

  The monster was listening for her, its murderous instinct outweighing her influence. All she could hear was her own breath which seemed like a roar in her own ears. And now, she knew, it could smell her.

  The ogre went heavily down on one knee, still hampered by its wounds but intent on grabbing her.

  Sword in hand, she rolled sideways, scooping a handful of dirt on the way. She feinted a move downhill, but paused to fling the dust with air-bending force up into her adversary's good eye, before resuming her run.

  The giant had already reacted to her movement, lurching forward after her, when the stinging particles hit. Blinded, it staggered, trying to recover the bent leg into the forward motion, but the injuries had stiffened it. Several attempts failed as the Zorg continued to pitch forward and down, like a mighty falling oak, eventually slamming with thunderous force amid a cloud of dust, head-first down the slope.

  Espira gritted her teeth as she stopped running downhill, to turn on her heels, pumping her legs to go back up. She panted with the effort and a new wave of nerves, praying that what she had to do next, she could do quickly.

  While the thing was still face-down, she threw herself on its back. Dragging up the last vestige of her courage, she clung on, one arm around the Zorg's neck as it began to roll to its side in an attempt to get up. Clenching her jaw against the pain in her arm, against all her finer sensibilities, she raised her sword high and jammed the blade point first into the ogre's jugular. It went in half-way to the hilt, to her surprise.

  Blood spurted. She felt sick, knowing she had dealt a kill-strike. Still, the monster spasmed, as she pulled hard to retrieve her sword, only to find she had insufficient strength to withdraw it. The ogre moved again.

  In a death-roll, the giant flipped onto its back, hurling her beneath its colossal frame. Am I going to die? It was a momentary doubt, a sickening possibility, as the huge shadow of the Zorg blocked what was left of daylight and closed her world to darkness.

  *

  Xandor's two Gaian scouts flew fast, racing against dark, as they retraced once more the last known flight of their lady and the dragon. They had visited the mountaintop where Sumar had divined she would be, to discover nothing but a large pool of blood blackening the earth.

  Lady Espira and her wyvern were gone.

  Both practical rather than percipient, the warriors agreed to return to base, flying a parallel route, honour-bound to seek out and protect their lady at all costs. They would not fail in that duty, if it took all night. If she was not in flight, by air-cloak or dragon, she must be on foot, making her way back to camp.

  They flew a distance apart but within earshot, scanning the terrain below for any sign of life. For over half the distance down the mountain, the open scree had been easy to reconnoitre. Lady Espira was nowhere in sight. The evergreen forest began below that and everything on the ground beyond was hidden by its thick canopy.

  One of the warriors pulled away to the left; he had spotted something out in the open. He called out to his companion. “Brother! Over here – dead Zorg!” He swooped closer, the other scout following his lead. “Yes. Definitely dead . . . probably tried to get away, but it looks like those wounds dropped him here. It surprises me he got so far!”

  The second man agreed, briefly studying the great hulk which was stretched out, mangled face up, staring sightless at the sky. “By all that is holy, they are hard to kill, but at least this one is down for good! Good riddance, one less to bother our lady . . . or us! No more to do here. Come, it is full dark now. Unfortunately, mind-sense is not my strong point, nor yours, brother, and here in Morvia it seems even worse! At least we have night-vision. We must maintain a visual search . . .”

  Dismissing the enemy corpse, he flew further down the hillside over the trees for a while before he gestured for them both to descend. “We must continue our search on foot. Keep your eyes and ears sharp. There might be others nearby!”

  Chapter 40 : LOST AND FOUND

  Night had drawn in and the flames from the pyre had begun to subside, leaving a bleak emptiness.

  Luminor turned to his men, his face unashamedly wet with tears, his eyes glittering with intense emotion. “I have yet to understand the wisdom in this!” He sighed with frustration.

  Neither of the men had ever seen Luminor so desolate.

  Lor was sympathetically silent, but Beris offered some practical encouragement. �
�My lord, you have been weak or unconscious for days! It has been so long since you ate. You need sustenance, since you are plainly meant to carry on! If you are not averse to the idea – ” he indicated towards a low whining sound, “I can put that dying wolf-beast, over there in the bushes, out of its misery – make us some supper, while you decide where we go from here. Lead us again, my lord! Help Lady Espira. Let's get the men home!”

  Beris' entreaty seemed to ring a chord in Luminor. Despondent but resigned, he gave a slight nod and Beris hurried off into the woods.

  Luminor ruminated. He would eat because Fate had deigned that he live, but certainly take no enjoyment in it. Perhaps Espira and his men did need him, at least for a while. They were all brave and true and deserved his attention. The cold in his heart warmed a little at the thought of seeing his courageous daughter again, ever a source of amazement and an inspiration to him.

  An hour later, seated on a log beside the guttering fire, his elbows propped on his knees, Luminor nibbled absently on a small piece of meat. He stared into the dying flames, questions chasing each other across his mind in even more disarray than when he was a young man.

  Fire was his domain, the source of all power. Why then, was he now utterly powerless to do anything except watch as the last remaining physical evidence of Ardientor's short existence disappeared to weightless ash before his eyes? Had his son's choice been born through some failing in him as a father? How did Essie, having sensed the death of her brother, bear this knowledge and make impossible choices of her own? . . . and how, in all the hells, would he tell Fralii?

  His eyes roamed over the ashes. Among them, something glinted brightly. He leaned down, using a twig to retrieve it, knowing what it was. The cinders fell away, revealing what was left of Ardi's armband. Still warm, much of the dragon's body had changed shape in the fire, but it was intact. The eye shone as brightly as ever.

  Do I imagine it offers encouragement? Luminor sighed, wrapping the memento in a kerchief Fralii had given him. At least I can bring this back.

  They would not tarry here. At the moment, with a recent surge in his energies, he could sense many turbulent emotions in his daughter. He was suddenly anxious to console her in the aftermath of loss and victory.

  Both left a scar on the heart.

  The companions heard a snort; a twig snapped in the undergrowth. All three men jumped up as two sweat-flecked samblars wandered into the clearing, intuitively finding their way back to the familiarity of a man-fire.

  It was decided. Luminor threw his cloak around his shoulders to give his instructions. “Brothers, Beris and Lor, you will ride together back to camp. My cloak is dry. I will fly alone. I feel a need for the lightness of flight, and more importantly speed, especially now it is certain that Espira has urgent need of me!”

  *

  Black silence. There was no pain, no glory, only an oppressive nothingness. Was this one of the Hells – retribution for one's worst deeds?

  No! This is not how I pictured death!

  Slowly coming back from unconsciousness, Espira's thoughts were muddled. She reached out in the dark space. She could move her arms, Perhaps, I'm not dead. At arms length above, her hands connected with an expanse of clammy skin and she withdrew them with a gasp. That's it! She was in a hole, trapped by the giant's body. It could have been her grave . . . could still be. She swallowed, unsure whether to laugh or cry. She had killed a Zorg!

  The gully had saved her life, but now, shoving with all her might, she couldn't budge the colossal corpse one inch, much less free herself. To any ordinary mortal, the situation might have seemed impossible.

  However, Espira felt surprisingly hopeful. At a pinch, she could manipulate Earth, but she did not want, nor expect, to dig her way out.

  Suddenly, the hulk lifted away, as if it had been a feather, letting fresh air and moonlight wash over her heated face. For a moment, she glimpsed the twin moons in a misty night sky; a second later, a shadow fell, blocking her view and a huge red-eye came very close, peering down at her.

  Ra! I knew you would come! She grabbed on to a chin tusk and pulled herself out of the hole, to throw herself against the wyvern's muzzle in relief. “Where did you go? Did you need to hunt? I was worried!” She pulled away to move along his side, reminded of the spear wound.

  Ra breathed a burst of sparks and groaned.

  Only a short end, less than two feet long, jutted out. It was in deep. Of course, you lost a lot of blood. You needed to feed. She moved to get a closer look. It won't heal unless we get it out! Without further ado, she grasped the spear-end, throwing her shoulder against his hide, to give the shaft an experimental pull.

  Ra shrieked, turned his snout away from her and blew a short burst of flame into the air. His neck slumped down in pain and exhaustion, resting his chin tusks on the ground. One quick meal was vastly insufficient to offset a wound this severe.

  “I am sorry Ra!” she cried, ceasing the pressure. “I can see that I'll never get that out without help. You know, today, I couldn't even retrieve my little sword from a neck smaller than yours!” Until now, she had given little thought to what had happened to the Zorg's body. She rested her forehead on Ra's hide. What to do?

  “How about we both try, together?” The quiet masculine voice behind her came as a complete surprise.

  She whirled around, the worry on her face instantly softening. “Papa, Oh, Papa!” was all she could manage, as she threw herself into her father's arms and burst into tears of conflicting emotions.

  For long moments, they embraced, needing no words to comfort each other. Their tears of grief and joy were mutual; the exchange offered the hope of healing . . . in time.

  Somewhat renewed, they pulled apart, their attention once more on Ra's urgent needs.

  Luminor examined the wound. “There is almost nothing to grip. Come Essie.” He smiled tightly. “I believe, you already know what we must do. It will need both of us . . . I can no longer do this on my own!” He took both of Espira's hands and placed them palm-down either side of the oozing wound, grasping the spear with both of his. Espira looked momentarily hesitant. Will this hurt Ra?

  Luminor smiled sagely.

  Immediately, the Link between them pulsated. Father, daughter and dragon were at once connected. Cosmic light, energy, Love – all the Fires merged to surge through seemingly mortal hands. Their combined influence caused the timber to burst into flames, burning down from end to tip, deep into the the dragon's flesh, cauterising the wound at the same time; a gentle healing followed, like the wash of a gentle, cooling spring.

  The Destroyer and Healing Fire fused together, in perfect harmony.

  Ra was immune to the pain of Fire, received the energy gratefully and absorbed the remnant ash from the spear into his body, as if it provided sustenance.

  When it was done, the three rested in exhausted silence, as a cool blue Morvian mist settled around them.

  Espira stirred first. “Father, can you tell me . . . why Ardi – ” she swallowed a sob on his name.

  “No,” Luminor answered truthfully. “Presently, it escapes me, even now that I feel well. Have you ever heard me claim to know everything? I accepted long ago that Destiny holds the reins, not I. Even at his birth, when I named him 'Ardientor' after passion and fire, I did not suspect that his essence would burn quite so bright . . . and be gone from us, so soon! When I was ill, it was impossible to see it coming!”

  “You know, Father, he hid so much from both of us. I knew some of it, before you, I think.” Espira smiled apologetically. “In the end it seems, he fooled us all! He was so young . . . yet so brave, so loyal. Selfless! We have much to be thankful for.”

  Luminor sighed sadly. “Yes. I believe he was so much more than any of us knew!”

  Both fell silent once more, reflecting on the wonder that would always be Ardientor.

  A while later, they sat side by side on the banks of a nearby stream. Espira broke the silence again. “I am worried about Ji. He shoul
d have been in this area!” She dropped her face into her hands, blurting, “I think . . . I killed him, by mistake! Oh, Papa, tell me it isn't true!”

  In that unguarded moment, Luminor saw how things were between them. It wasn't what he would have chosen, but then it was not his choice to make.

  He felt moved to offer words of comfort, choosing not to judge. No matter what others said or did, love spoke a language all its own.

  His voice was kind. “You might take consolation in this. Things are not always what they seem . . .”

  Espira frowned at her father, perplexed and a little irritated at the ambiguity, when she was suffering such self-doubt. “Is that a good thing?” She stared expectantly.

  Luminor simply shrugged, spreading his hands palms-up and gave her an honest blank look. His answer was frank. “All I can tell you is . . . I will help you search until daylight. If we have not found him by then, we must return to camp. Many people rely upon us!”

  His tone continued stern. “Now, I have a question for you! Why do you no longer have the sword I gave you?” He looked pointedly down at her empty scabbard. A warrior should be dead before parting with his, or her, weapon. Surely you know this? I assume you killed something with it?”

  Chagrin flashed briefly in Espira's eyes. “I am not proud of the killing, Father! And at this moment,” she quickly scanned the open ground for the still-missing corpse, adding dismissively,“I care not . . . to keep that blade!” She managed to disguise some her feelings about the matter.

  Luminor looked concerned. “Sometimes life stabs us more cruelly than a knife. Our kind feel the pain of others more sharply than ordinary souls.” Disappointment and uncertainty flickered in his eyes. He could not read her. “Has all this . . . soured your desire to be a warrior, the champion of the New Age, to carry the Alliance forward, when I pass on? Has Ardientor's death been in vain?”