Healed by Hope

by Jim Melvin

  “Someone help . . .” Laylah muttered. “Someone help. She’s coming . . . They’re coming.”

  That is when the cackling began. And then a mountainous shape, golden and glowing, burst upward from the hole with the force of an eruption. Something leathery struck Torg under his chin so hard he squealed, and he tumbled halfway down the side of the dune, where he lay in a heap, too stunned to move. Strong hands grasped each of his biceps and lifted him to his feet. Aya and Gutta stood beside him, and both were pointing skyward.

  “Lord, a dragon has come—from beneath the ground,” Aya shouted.

  Torg looked up in amazement. A golden dragon—not nearly as large as Bhayatupa had been, but enormous nonetheless—circled the sky just beneath the roof of the blue-green dome of magic. Riding on the base of its neck was Vedana, and the demon held the baby in her arms.

  Suddenly, the dragon twisted and spiraled downward. Torg was convinced it would crash into the sand in a deadly explosion of scale and gore. Instead, it slipped gracefully through the black hole and disappeared.

  As if in response, the magical dome winked out.

  Torg stood silently for a moment, his mouth agape, but then he climbed up the dune in search of Laylah and was relieved to find that Tugars and Vasi masters surrounded her. Laylah was crying softly but appeared to be physically intact. Torg raced to her and took her in his arms, and when he did, she relaxed and looked into his eyes, her coherence returned.

  “She has him,” Laylah said.

  Torg started to respond, but a nearby shriek startled him. He looked up to see Ura scrambling on the sand where the black hole had been. “Where is Nimm?” And then: “She’s gone!”

  Torg realized that Ura was right—Nimm was gone. But the little girl wasn’t the only one missing. Burly appeared to have vanished as well.

  49

  WHEN THEY RE-EMERGED into a moonlit sky, the contrast was almost blinding compared to their brief sojourn through the Realm of Undeath. Burly found himself clinging to the dragon’s lumpy spine just a stone’s throw from the base of the neck, where he could see the demon sitting, her gnarled hands gripping the newborn baby. Burly looked to his left and then right, the titanic sweeps of the beast’s wings mesmerizing him. He had seen dragons before but had never been nearly so close to one. To witness such a combination of power and grace was astounding. For a while the enchanter could do nothing but gape.

  As small as he was, the chances of being detected were slim. Besides, Vedana was otherwise preoccupied, shrieking and cackling in obnoxious triumph. “I did it, Sovaōōa! My plan worked to perfection.” Burly had no idea how the ancient beast was reacting to the demon’s rants. The dragon’s head was so far away it was shrouded in darkness.

  For reasons Burly could not discern, the baby was resting quietly in the demon’s arms, his head cast over her shoulder as if Vedana were burping him. It amazed Burly that the newborn wasn’t throwing a fit—but whatever the reasons, it didn’t really matter. Burly was certain that the baby must be destroyed. If not, Triken would fall.

  “I know you,” Burly whispered. “You are like your father, and no good can come of your existence. It is my duty to remove you from the world.”

  Like an insect crawling up the back plate of a heavily armored warrior, Burly crept along the dragon’s spine. If he could get close enough before Vedana detected his presence, he could strike at the baby’s exposed head with his wand and blow the skull apart. After that, whatever happened would happen. His own demise would be well worth the cost, if it meant that the son of Invictus also perished.

  The baby watched him silently. Burly could make out his face and also a portion of his abnormally long neck. Burly saw a flash—like light reflecting off a piece of jewelry—and realized that something had been wrapped around the newborn’s throat. What it might be was beyond Burly’s comprehension, but he didn’t care. Only one purpose remained to him: Vanquish the monster before it had time to grow into a creature too dangerous for anyone or anything to destroy.

  Now he was only a short distance away. If he had been built like Torg, he would have been already close enough to reach out and strike. The baby continued to watch him with what resembled amusement, making no attempt to warn Vedana of his approach.

  Maybe I look more like a toy than a threat, Burly thought. If so, he’s about to find out otherwise.

  Just when it appeared Burly might be able to strike the boy up close with the full extent of his power, the dragon suddenly arched her back and scratched at her side with her left hind leg. The unexpected movement caught Burly unawares, and he was cast sideways. Only the dragon’s wide girth prevented him from falling. Burly caught hold of a golden scale, though in doing so he lost his grip on his wand and watched it tumble downward into darkness.

  Burly moaned. He was not like Torg, who was dangerous whether or not he wielded Obhasa. Without his wand, Burly’s magic was weakened—and he now doubted he had the strength to kill the boy, much less do battle with the demon and dragon.

  “Something’s on me . . . it itches!” he heard the dragon shriek, and then Vedana responded, “What are you talking about? Where?”

  “On my side . . . it’s under a scale.”

  At first, Burly assumed the dragon was referring to him. Only, he wasn’t under a scale and never had been. Though the rushing wind threatened to blow him into oblivion, Burly still managed to look around to see if he could see anything out of the usual. Sure enough, not ten Gillygaloo paces from where he clung to the dragon’s side, Burly saw movement. Nestled beneath a scale, with only her head exposed, was the little girl who had been standing at the crest of the dune when the dragon first appeared. Somehow she must have become entangled in the dragon as it rose from the black hole that had connected the Realm of Undeath to the Realm of Life. If the girl were discovered, she would be doomed.

  Without his wand he could not kill the boy, but perhaps he could perform a good deed before his long life ended. Burly pried apart a scale and slid inside, purposely leaving his head exposed.

  “It itches!” the dragon shrieked again, scratching with her hind leg like a dog trying to dislodge a tick.

  Vedana secured the baby to a protruding vertebra with a length of cord and then scampered down the dragon’s side with the deftness of a spider, her glowing eyes looking this way and that. The girl seemed not to notice the demon, so Burly climbed from beneath the scale and made a lot of noise.

  “Come no closer, malina amanussa (foul demon), or I will smite thee,” Burly shouted. “Flee back to your dark realm and haunt the living no longer.”

  Vedana stopped a few paces short and stared at Burly with perplexity. “Who are you, and how came you here? Peta didn’t say anything about this.”

  Though the demon appeared to be having no problem clinging to the dragon’s side, the rushing winds tossed Burly to-and-fro. “I am Burly Boulogne, an enchanter of great renown!” he managed to say. “Prepare to meet your doom.”

  At first Vedana looked around suspiciously, as if she believed that more than just a lone and apparently weaponless Gillygaloo was there to assault her. But when she saw nothing else, she laughed wickedly.

  “Little fool! Don’t you know me? I am Vedana, mother of all demons. I made the dragons and the Gillygaloos. All magic came from me. You are but a trifle.”

  Burly couldn’t allow Vedana to sense that he was afraid. “Demons are liars—and worse! You have always taken too much credit. The Gillygaloos are far too grand to have been created by the likes of you.”

  Meanwhile, the dragon was continuing her shrilled complaining. “Vedana, have you found it?”

  Vedana cackled. “Relax, Sovaōōa. I have found it, though it is tiny and insignificant.”

  “I don’t care what it is . . . just get it off me.”

  Vedana smiled and turned back to Burly. “Sorr
y, but you heard the lady.”

  Retaining her hold on the dragon with just her bare feet, Vedana raised her gnarled hands and assaulted Burly with sizzling bolts of crimson flame from her upraised palms. Burly was only able to use one of his hands, but he somehow managed to conjure a weak shield that deflected the bolts enough to survive the assault. Even so, he was too weak to attempt a counter-attack, and when Vedana struck again, his tiny body was torn away from the scale.

  With arms and legs spread wide, Burly Boulogne plunged downward. The night swallowed him.

  NIMM NEVER SAW Burly. When she turned in the direction the dragon was flying, the blasting winds caused her eyes to flood with tears, effectively blinding her. But she was able to see the fire that sprang from Vedana, and she also felt its ferocious heat. The little girl cried out and then nestled even deeper beneath the scale, flattening her body and becoming motionless. Being in confined places always had comforted her and made her sleepy, and the exotic odor of the dragon’s flesh added to the intoxication. Despite her terror, Nimm gave in to exhaustion.

  But before she slept, she stared one more time at the green sparkles that emanated from her body. The sparkles did not rest. Instead, they gushed from her and formed a trail behind the dragon that was leagues in length.

  50

  “IT STILL ITCHES.”

  “You’re just whining. I told you I got rid of him. You’ve probably just got some sand beneath your scales.”

  “A cactus is more like it. I want to land somewhere and lick it out.”

  “You’ll do no such thing! We have a long way to go.”

  “Why are we in such a hurry? Who could possibly follow us?”

  “I don’t trust the Death-Knower. He’ll figure out some way to cause trouble.”

  “Now who’s whining?”

  “Be quiet!”

  Vedana enjoyed a brief moment of silence, but then the dragon started up again. “I’m hungry.”

  “If you’re hungry, then keep flying. Where we’re going, there’ll be plenty of food for you. Big, juicy mammoths.”

  “I’m hungry now.”

  “Quit complaining!”

  “When we get there, don’t even think about asking me to babysit.”

  “That’s the least of your worries. No one touches him but me.”

  “Good! I don’t want to touch him.”

  “You’d better be careful. I know this might sound strange, but I think he already understands some of what’s being said. If not for the amulet, he might have scorched you already.”

  “You’re scaring me, Vedana.”

  “Good. You should be scared.”

  Cold reality

  51

  FOR LONGER THAN she could remember, Laylah had been trapped in a continuous nightmare. Her dreams were dark and fraught with despair. But when the birth began, Laylah returned to consciousness. The boy in her belly became more intent on escaping its human prison than on controlling her mind. As the overlarge baby tore free of her womb, Laylah expected to experience pain beyond measure. But the sedative powers of Torg’s healing magic made the birth less painful than she would have imagined—and when the child finally spilled from her there was no residual pain at all, only a short-lived exhaustion.

  When the dune began to tremble, she became confused. But it didn’t take long for her to figure out what was about to happen. She could smell her grandmother’s foul scent.

  “Torg . . . let me down,” she said, her voice weak and raspy despite her best efforts to shout. “Vedana is coming . . . for him!”

  It wasn’t concern for her son that drove her. Instead, it was fear that Vedana might gain control of such a potentially dangerous being.

  “She can’t get to us,” Torg said with uncharacteristic naiveté. Then he came forward and grabbed her ankles. His warm hands felt good . . . again.

  As quickly as she could manage, Laylah dropped to the sand on hands and knees and attempted to grab the boy. “Someone help . . . someone help. She’s coming . . . They’re coming.” But it was too late for anyone to stop it. From Vedana’s horrid realm, a window already had opened—and when the dragon emerged from it, Laylah and the others were blown aside.

  Laylah tumbled halfway down the side of the dune. She was not harmed and could have stood, but the realization that her child was indeed the monster she had feared he would become left her dazed.

  The eyes . . . so familiar. So like her brother’s.

  Invictus had been a god. But was he so strong that he was capable of orchestrating his own rebirth?

  The magical dome that had encased the dune dimmed and then winked out. Though the moon remained huge and bright, the desert seemed cast in darkness.

  “We have to follow,” she said to Torg as a Tugar handed her a black jacket and breeches to cover her naked body.

  “Laylah, you’re in no condition for such a journey. You need rest. Maybe in a few days . . .”

  “Torg! We don’t have a few days. Vedana has him. Unless we can find them soon, there’ll be no rest for any of us.”

  “He’s Invictus’s son, I know, but he’s also just a baby. Surely there’s time.”

  “No!” she shouted, with enough vehemence to cause even Torg to stagger. “We must find them now.”

  Torg sighed. “It’s not possible. They were with a great dragon—and they fled into Vedana’s realm. Already they are out of reach. They could be anywhere.”

  As if in response to his words, there was a swooshing sound in the air above them and then a loud flapping of wings. Sakuna lighted beside them and immediately transformed to Jord.

  Jord’s wide eyes glowed like green lanterns. Rather than speak directly to Torg, she approached Laylah and stood face to face with her. “I can take you to the demon,” Jord said. “The Vijjaadharaa have left a trail for me to follow.”

  “You say that as if you knew in advance that this would happen,” Laylah said. “Why else would they leave a trail?”

  “Much is at stake,” was Jord’s only answer.

  Torg interrupted. “Laylah . . . Jord and I will go after them. This journey will be too difficult for you. During the birth, I did much to heal you, but magical healing is hard on the body. If you attempt too much too soon, you could damage yourself further.”

  Laylah swung her gaze to Torg. “You have many amazing qualities, but your need to shelter me isn’t one of them. This was no ordinary birth. And you have underestimated your healing powers. Already my strength has returned. It is almost as if the birth never happened.” Then: “You and I must do this together—or not at all.”

  A Tugar stepped forward. Laylah recognized him as an Asēkha, though she had never seen him before.

  “Lord Torgon, the baby is gone, of that we know. But both the desert girl and the enchanter are also missing. What would you have us do?”

  Torg clasped forearms with the Asēkha. “Aya, the queen and I must depart. I know not when we will return. Await the arrival of Chieftain-Podhana and the rest of the Tugars, and then raise the Simōōn.”

  “May I not accompany you, lord?” Aya said. “Surely you could use my assistance.”

  Torg gestured toward Jord. “Despite her magic, she can carry only so many.”

  Laylah stepped forward and also clasped forearms with Aya, surprising the Asēkha. “There is nothing you can do for us now. We will return, if we are able.”

  Aya nodded and then bowed. “As you command, my queen.”

  “Time is short,” Jord said, and then she transformed to Sakuna and bade Torg and Laylah to mount her. Before doing so, Torg handed Laylah his ivory staff.

  “You and Obhasa seem destined to be together,” Torg said. “Come . . . a final task awaits us.”

  “Ema . . . Ema . . .” she whispered. And then they mounted the eagle and s
prang into the moonlit sky.

  52

  IT TOOK YAMA-DEVA almost four days to cross the eastern stem of the Y-shaped Mahaggatan range north of Gamana. First, he passed through the foothills of Mount Asubha, and there he stopped and gazed upward at the broken peak of the mountain prison. But the upper portion of Asubha was shrouded in stormy mist, and he could see little more than a few circling specks, probably condors or maybe even a Sampati. Just as well. The mountain harbored evil memories that were better left unexplored.

  Though he had spent time on Asubha’s summit when he was Invictus’s slave, Deva had never wandered anywhere else among the northern peaks of Mahaggata. These mountains were as high and mighty as the greatest of Okkanti, but for the most part they were not as sheer or jagged, being older and more seasoned. The lower regions were heavily forested and artfully laced with ponds, streams, and waterfalls. And though he was farther north than his homeland, it did not feel as cold here as it did in Okkanti. In fact, the hills and valleys encased by the taller mountains were uncomfortably warm, at least to a snow giant, and he found himself drinking enormous amounts of water and eating all the wild greens and roots he could forage. Even then, he moved far faster than most beings could have managed, averaging twenty leagues a day despite the difficult terrain.

  Deva spent large portions of the journey attempting to discern exactly what it was that drove him toward Nirodha. Try as he might, he could not discover any answers, but this did not stop him from continuing toward his destination, wherever and whatever that might be.

  Gradually, it became cold even in the lower elevations. Around noon of a nameless day, he entered a deep valley split by a narrow river and bordered by banks of crumbled stone. Deva waded across the river. The blue water was barely up to his waist, though it was frigid even to him.