The Blue Flame [Book 1 of the Daradawn Series]

by Barbara M. Hodges

  Regan glanced across the sea of flowers. As she watched, a ripple formed in the center of the field and moved toward them. She suddenly shivered and jerked her fingers back from the petals.

  "It's the grass that freaks me,” Ben said. “I've never seen red grass before, and it's weird the way it parts in front of us, like Moses and the Red Sea."

  Ahead, Peter and Angus had stopped also. Peter's gaze swept across the field, and the man and dwarf exchanged a quick look before Peter called back to her. “Would you join me please?” She moved to stand next to him.

  He looked around again. “Do you feel it?"

  Regan shivered. “I feel something. I just don't know what it is."

  "They stalk us.” Peter's gaze shifted from side to side. “I need to use your Power again, but it will be different this time. I must have full control."

  Regan's stomach churned. “What do you mean?"

  "Until I release you, your body will be nothing but a walking shell."

  She glanced around. The ripples were oncoming waves, and it became clear the little group was their destination. “Okay."

  "Give me your hand and your trust. I must have both."

  She placed her hand in his. Her light blue eyes rose to lock with his hazel ones. She felt a quick jerk in the pit of her stomach. The world around her wavered, and she fell into the glittering depths of Peter's eyes.

  Her awareness returned, and with it the sight of her own slack face seen through another's vision. “Where am I?” she screamed mentally.

  Peter's calm voice spoke to her, mind to mind. “Your consciousness is with mine. Relax. Is that not what you said to me about the blue devil-machine?"

  "But..."

  "I trusted you in your world; now you must trust me in mine."

  Regan laughed. “You've got my soul. How could I trust you more?"

  "Then become one with me. I promise you shall be returned."

  Through Peter's eyes, Regan saw his hands move in a graceful dance. The white sunlight surrounding them suddenly fragmented into a rainbow of color. The colors followed the flowing movements of Peter's hands, twining and weaving until a pulsating wall encircled them. From the flowers a raspy sigh rose, grating on her—no, his—ears, like fingernails scratching down a blackboard.

  Arms extended, palms facing up, Peter marched forward, Regan's soulless body a stringless puppet at his side. The raspy keen rose higher.

  From the flesh-colored flowers in front of them, a nightmare creature rose and balanced on a thick black tail. A swaying, scaled, triangular head towered above Peter. Through the swirling colors of the wall, cold reptilian eyes bored down into his.

  Out of the corner of Peter's eyes, she saw Angus rush forward. “Can you stop them?"

  "With Regan's help I can hold them off."

  All around them flowers rustled, and more of the snake creatures rose, their slit eyes black and hungry.

  The wall pulsed, vibrant with power, then arced in a flash as one of the monsters sprang against it. The snake rebounded with an enraged hiss, smoke rising from its singed coils.

  Then as if one mind ruled all, they sprang. The wall crackled and arced. The smell of ozone filled the air as they sprang again, and then again. Their repelled bodies fell, charred and writhing, among the now trampled flowers.

  The pulsing wall shielding them, the party pushed on. The dying snakes, writhing in a death dance, were brushed to the side and out of their path by their advance.

  Suddenly Peter stumbled and Regan felt his body begin to tremble.

  "God, no. There's still at least fifty of them left. What can I do? Tell me!” she said.

  "You are doing what can be done,” Peter said. “Angus..."

  "Hold on, boy, we're almost there,” the dwarf yelled.

  "Almost there?” Regan heard the panic in her own thoughts. “The trees are no closer."

  "Illusion, only illusion.” Peter stumbled again, and the wall wavered.

  "We're going to die."

  "No, we are not. I can take more from you, but it will leave your body immobile."

  "Do it."

  Peter reached and clasped her hand. “Ben, grab Regan as she falls."

  Regan winced as she saw her body stumble. Then Ben leaped forward and, for the second time that day, he swept her body up into his arms.

  The wall surrounding them pulsed brighter for a moment, but then, with Peter's eyes, she watched the world dim. My power wasn't enough, she thought. We're not going to make it.

  The hissing rose angrily, then abruptly all was silent.

  "We are safe. Regan, you may return."

  Then she was looking from her own eyes once more.

  Chapter 9

  BEN STILL GRIPPED her in his arms just inside a shaded glade of oaks. “Regan, are you all right? Can you hear me?” The lower, gnarled limbs spread and entwined to form a living wall around them. On the far side of the glade, Peter sat on the ground with his back propped against a tree, Angus kneeling beside him. The dwarf used his left arm to hold the mage's head up, and with his other hand held a silver canteen to Peter's lips. Maggie lay at Peter's side, her head resting on his thigh.

  Regan turned her gaze to Ben. “I'm fine."

  "Do you think you can stand?"

  "Of course and, by the way, thanks for the lift."

  Ben groaned. A shaky laugh escaped Regan as he lowered her. “Sorry, but becoming a zombie and fearing for my life makes me stupid.” As her feet touched the ground, it gave beneath them. She looked down, then shifted her weight from side to side. The ground squished. It was as if they stood on a water-soaked green sponge.

  Ben released her arms and stepped back, but he looked coiled, ready to spring if she stumbled. “Did he use your power again?"

  "He had to or those things would have gotten beyond the wall.” Regan shuddered. “What do you think they were?"

  He shook his head. “Never seen or even read of anything like them."

  Regan's gaze drifted back to Peter. “It was the strangest feeling. I looked out from his eyes, felt his fear and rage at the evil he fights, and his hatred of this Dirkk. Do you think he's okay?"

  Ben glanced toward Peter and Angus. “I know he's weak. He stumbled over there as soon as he put you back."

  She drew a deep breath. “Well, I seem to be okay. I think I'll go and make sure he's all right."

  She crossed to where Peter sat and knelt next to Angus. The cool damp moss immediately soaked the knees of her jeans. “Is he okay?"

  Angus twisted a stopper into the canteen, then glanced at her. “He needs rest. We will travel no more today."

  Peter sat up, away from the tree's support. “But Kelsey?"

  Angus shook his head. “She needs you in good health. You are no use to anyone ill.” He placed his hand on Peter's shoulder. “Look, the sun is setting. Sleep. We will start early tomorrow."

  Peter settled back against the tree with a sigh. “As usual, you are the voice of reason. The horses..."

  "Are safe in the cave.” Angus glanced at Ben. “But we are one short."

  "Regan can ride with me. Skylar can carry two with ease."

  The dwarf nodded, then stood. “There's no longer a need to skulk like thieves so I will see to firewood."

  "Would you like a hand?” Ben asked.

  Angus looked up at the man towering over him. His thick eyebrows rose towards his hairline. “You wish to give me your hand?"

  Ben's white teeth flashed in a smile. “Would you like some help getting the wood?"

  The dwarf turned away. “Do as you wish."

  Regan watched Angus and Ben walk toward the forest. Angus glanced up and said something to Ben. The tall man bent to catch his words, then his rich laughter flooded the glade. Maggie's ears perked. She rose, stretched her long body, and trotted after them.

  Regan shifted to a sitting position at Peter's side. He moved a little to the right. “Would you care to share my tree?"

  She scooted closer an
d rested her back against the broad trunk.

  The shadows joined to form one dark pool around them. Outside the glade, the sky turned into a streaked palette of orange, yellow and reddish-violet.

  "Sunsets are the same in your world as in mine,” she said.

  "All living creatures enjoy beauty."

  The field of flowers deepened to a coral pink. A breeze lifted Regan's hair and teased her nose with a sweet scent, like pink jasmine, but headier. “What's that?"

  Peter glanced at her. “What?"

  "That smell."

  "The Tika flowers. They hold their perfume all day and release it as the sun sets."

  Regan inhaled deeply and tilted her head back to look at the leaf-covered branches entwined above. She lifted her hand and stifled a yawn. It's so peaceful, she thought, so different from just a few minutes ago. She sat up and turned so she could see Peter's face. “Those things that attacked us earlier, what were they?"

  "Black Vipers, one of Dirkks hell-spawn."

  "I felt your hate for him. He's responsible for those monsters? But why?"

  Peter rubbed the back of his neck. “Why? Hate, revenge—the usual reasons. He was once betrothed to Queen Tessa. He was always wild, a troublemaker from the time he could toddle."

  "You knew him as a child?"

  "He, the queen, and I grew up together in the castle.” A lopsided smile curved Peter's lips, then they tightened. “One night, arrogant with too much mead and angered by the ribbing he was taking about his inability to bed the queen, he accepted a childish challenge and climbed the wall into the queen's private forest."

  "The Queen's Forester heard a unicorn's enraged death scream and ran to see why. When he arrived, he saw the baron and the unicorn. Both of them lay in a pool of blood. The unicorn was dead, a hunting arrow jutting from its neck. Dirkk still lived, and in his hand he gripped a bloody unicorn horn.” Peter paused and stared into the dark.

  "The baron got his horn but he paid dearly. When the forester turned him over, he saw Dirkk's face was slashed into raw ribbons of flesh by the unicorn's hoofs."

  "My God."

  Peter picked up a short narrow branch and rolled it between his palms. “The baron's action enraged Tessa. She broke their engagement and banished him from the kingdom. Dirkk would not admit his guilt. He said if Tessa had not refused him her bed, it would never have happened, and he swore the broken betrothal and banishment was because he was no longer easy to look upon. He promised revenge.” A sharp crack made Regan jump. Peter looked down at the broken limb in his hands. “Sorry."

  "So what happened to the baron?"

  "He lives in Crag Castle with a face of puckered scars, his handsome features only a bitter memory. With a black soul, scarred worse than his face, he shapes hell's creatures and terrorizes the countryside.” With a harsh curse, Peter threw the two sticks across the glade.

  Regan hesitated, then reached out and touched his shoulder. His eyes met hers. Regan dropped her hand from his shoulder, her heart doubling its beat at the hate that blazed in them.

  His voice was harsh with controlled anger as he continued. “The Black Vipers and Ru'taha ravage the night. Ru'taha is Ancient Dwarven for death angel. Dirkk sculpts them from human flesh. At first he used his own people, but now whole villages have disappeared. Some of the field troops say that, if you look deep, you will see the eyes of a friend peering from a Ru'taha's dead orbs."

  The hair on Regan's arms rose and she rubbed them with her hands. “How does he do it?"

  "No one knows for certain, but we know the Dark One is involved.” He stared over her head into the darkness. “Black Vipers were once mountain snakes; now they exist to kill."

  "Everyone has come to the castle, farms and villages abandoned.” Peter lifted his hands, stared at them, then wiped them against his trouser leg. “I protect the castle with the Power, but we are proud and imprisonment chafes us."

  "How do Kelsey and I figure into this?"

  "Kelsey is both leader and warrior. She showed us the way to strike fast and deadly and gave us back our pride."

  Regan shook her head. “From photo journalist to warrior?"

  "It did not happen overnight, but Kelsey will explain."

  "And me?"

  Peter touched the blue flame on his cheek. “You have the mark of the Power. All born with the blue flame are magic wielders."

  "Maybe in this world, but not in mine."

  Peter studied Regan's face. “Kelsey says that even in your world your words weave powerful spells of magic and persuade people to do your will."

  "That's not magic,” she grinned. “That's advertising."

  "It is the same. You bespell those to do your bidding, to buy what they do not need, to do what they do not want."

  A branch snapped and she felt Peter's body tense, then relax as Angus's voice drifted to them.

  "The working of silver is a talent passed from father to son.” The dwarf strode into the clearing with Ben behind him, both with arms piled with wood.

  "But what of mother to daughter?” Ben said.

  "Mother to daughter? Well, woman things."

  "Such as?"

  "The making of this knapsack and this shirt and trousers."

  "Oh—women things—I see,” Ben said, then smiled.

  "What amuses you?” Angus said.

  "I was just thinking of you in my world. They have a name for men like you."

  "What?"

  "Chauvinistic."

  "Chauvinistic? What is chauvinistic?"

  "If you're lucky, you'll never know."

  Ben dropped his wood to the ground. “Where do you want the fire?"

  Angus pointed to his left “There's a pit over there."

  Ben crossed to the spot, knelt and began to pile twigs in a tee-pee shape in the middle of a shallow depression; a grin still curved his lips.

  Angus scowled. “What does he find so amusing?” He dropped his wood next to Ben's and, still scowling, tromped to his backpack, rummaged inside and pulled out two white cloth-wrapped packages. He untied the string, opened them and handed Regan and Peter each a dried square of meat and a flat piece of bread, then turned and walked toward Ben.

  "What's this?” Regan asked Peter.

  "It is trail food. Chew the meat slowly to soften it. I will get us some water to wash it down."

  Regan bit into the brown square and gnawed a piece free. She chewed, then chewed some more. It tasted a bit like venison and blackberries. Pemmican. She and Kelsey tried some on a backpacking trip through the Sierras. Peter returned and handed her a silver cup filled with water. “Is everything you have here made of silver?"

  "Angus's people are miners of the silver, and he is generous with his friends.” Peter sat beside her and bit off a piece of his brown square.

  "So what of tomorrow?"

  He chewed, swallowed, and took a long drink from the silver cup. “Tomorrow we journey to the cave where the horses are hidden, then ride to join Kelsey."

  "Hidden from Ru'taha and Black Vipers?"

  "No, from Zara. Although Angus says he saw her feeding yesterday."

  "Zara?"

  "The Guardian Dragon of the Mountain of the Devil."

  Regan stared at him for a moment, then burst into laughter. Ben and Angus glanced in her direction, then turned back to the fire. She looked into Peter's stunned face and her laughter trailed off. “You can't be serious."

  "You do not believe in dragons?"

  "Of course not."

  Peter glanced pointedly at Angus. “Did you believe in dwarfs?"

  She got his point. “Well, I..."

  "Perhaps tomorrow you will believe in dragons."

  Regan felt her cheeks grow warm. So what if she'd never seen a dwarf before? He'd never seen a basset hound before. Maggie. Where was Maggie?

  "Ben, where's Maggie?"

  "I don't know. She was right behind us.” Ben whistled.

  Regan stood and walked to the glade's edge. “Maggie, here
Maggie."

  "I'm sure she's okay,” Peter said, coming up behind her.

  Angus stood and picked up his battle axe. “I'll just go make sure."

  A panicked howl ripped through the night.

  "Maggie,” Ben said, scrambling to his feet.

  "Something's got her,” Regan said.

  The underbrush behind Ben shook and Angus turned to face it, his battle axe held high.

  A howling basset hound charged into their midst. A small figure bounced on her neck, just behind her ears. “Whoa, steed, whoa,” it cried, grabbing handfuls of Maggie's loose skin. Maggie yowled again and came to a trembling halt.

  "What the hell! Get off of her.” Regan grabbed a limb and advanced on the yowling dog and its unwelcome rider.

  "No, wait,” Peter said, grabbing Regan's arm. “Talix, you will desist—now."

  The tiny figure glared at Peter, then stood on the quivering dog's back and launched itself. It flew upward to hover with silver wings near Peter's face.

  "What is that nasty creature?” it sniffed disdainfully.

  "That is Maggie, part of our company."

  Talix turned his small head, raking them with disdainful eyes. “Father allowed you the safety of our glade, Mage Peter, not this riffraff."

  Maggie made a beeline to Ben's side. He knelt, stroked her head, and whispered softly into her ear. Regan still burned with anger. Her palm itched to squash the little bug.

  Angus set his battle axe aside. “Fairie-s-s-s-s.” He spit at the ground in front of Peter, then turned and stalked to the far side of the glade.

  "Your father promised a safe haven for all who flee the Black Vipers,” Peter said.

  The fairy flew to float before Regan, and she saw he was nude and very much male. “So who is this?” He darted around her and then halted at eye level.

  "Kelsey's sister, Regan—and you have forgotten your manners."

  The silver brows of the fairy came together in a straight line. “You are most welcome to this haven of safety, weary traveler,” he sing-songed in a bored monotone voice.