A Dark Tide (Book of One)

by Jordan Baker

  "Who was that young man who helped us?" Borrican asked as he caught up to the two women.

  "You don't know?" Ariana grinned at him with amusement.

  A bellowing screech echoed through the cavern, followed by a blast of fire and the greyish white, leathery wings and silhouette of dragon became visible in the dim light below. Another blast of fire lit up the cavern and they caught sight of Storm twisting and rolling, covered in Darga.

  "Go, help him," Keira said to Borrican, then she turned to the opening of the passage as the sound of stone scraping against stone and the snarling voices of angry Darga could be heard above them. "We can stop them here."

  Borrican broke into a run and leapt from the staircase head first, transforming himself into the fearsome black and gold dragon and he streaked toward Storm, his claws outstretched. He practically smashed into the white dragon, sending them both tumbling across the dirt and stone floor of the cavern, but the impact knocked the Darga loose, which had been his goal. Borrican leapt to his feet and Storm rolled over and got up as well. There were streaks of blood dripping across his leathery scales where he had been cut by the Darga blades, but the wounds appeared minor.

  Both dragons roared as the Darga gathered before them. Storm blasted the creatures with fire, but they stood their ground, unaffected by the flames. Borrican took a deep breath, then he let out a powerful roar, letting his fire burn white hot as it shot toward the Darga. The lizard creatures screamed and bellowed as the fire cut through them, searing their flesh and stripping it from their bones. The ones the fire had missed paused for a moment, unsure of themselves, then they scattered into the shadows and ran away, fleeing toward the far end of the cavern.

  Borrican looked over at Storm and the two dragons nodded to one another, then leapt into the air, flying up into the darkness. Like birds of prey hunting an open field, the two dragons dove, snatching lizard men from the ground and crushing them in the powerful hind claws, until none of the Darga remained. Borrican angled through the air, looking to where Ariana and Keira now battled a group of Darga and several of the dead ensorceled soldiers on the stone stairway that led to the cavern floor. From the bodies that lay dead, fallen from the steps, it appeared they were handling themselves well enough, but they were being pushed back along the stairway by the sheer number of their opponents. Borrican let out a loud bellow and flew toward them, and through his thoughts, he let Ariana know what he intended to do. She and Keira leapt backward, out of the way, as the black dragon flew past the stone stairway in and let loose another powerful blast of flame. Darga fell from the high stairs to the cavern floor below, dripping in liquid fire, screaming all the way down then abruptly silent when they hit the ground. Borrican latched onto the rough stone ceiling of the cavern, and he turned toward Ariana and Keira and grinned with fire dripping from his mouth. He let go and flew down to the floor of the cavern, coming to land at the foot of the stairs where Storm awaited.

  "The fire of the Akandra burns hot," Storm commented.

  "And the bravery of the Akendra burns true," Borrican replied, using an expression he had learned from his father and his uncle.

  "If the two of you are done complimenting one another, there are a lot more Darga and those dead soldiers that need to be dealt with up in the city," Ariana said.

  "Of course," Storm said, then he turned to Borrican. "Shall we take to the skies?"

  "It would be best if you and Keira came with us," Borrican said to Ariana.

  "I am not riding a dragon," Keira said.

  "You can ride Borrican," Ariana offered. "He will fly in a polite and gentle manner."

  "Keira," Borrican said. "Our ploy to sneak past the guards failed, and it would be best if we joined up with Margo, Dala and the rest of the Watchers, that we may take the city with strength of numbers. I will not have you and Ariana surrounded by dozens of Darga as we were in the throne room."

  "There is some wisdom in that," Keira admitted grudgingly, then she stepped toward the enormous black dragon.

  Borrican lowered his head, then he glanced over at Ariana, who kicked over one of the dead Darga. She reached down and yanked a jeweled sword from the creature's clawed hand.

  "Interesting weapons, these," she commented as she walked over to Storm and swung herself up onto his neck. "They are very similar to the ones Dala and her people make, only they appear to be far older." She turned the blade over in her hand, comparing it to her dagger, which had changed, becoming larger, when she had fallen into the flows. "It is like my dagger."

  "It appears to be the power of the stones and the metal that makes these weapons dangerous," Storm rumbled. "I now understand why they were hidden away."

  "Why?" Ariana asked.

  "The taking of power is exhilarating," he said. "It would be very tempting to use such a weapon perhaps too much. Though I have not yet bonded, I imagine it is like that, for it is certainly far more pleasurable than swimming among the flows, and it gives great power."

  "Is that what happened when you killed Mirdel?" Ariana asked.

  "Yes," Storm said, as he leapt into the air and beat his powerful wings. "It was unexpected and the sword I received was unfortunately destroyed."

  "Do not worry about the sword, you can have this one," Ariana told him. "I am just glad you came when you did."

  "I felt your distress," Storm said. "And I will always defend my queen."

  "Well, thank you, Storm," Ariana said and she rubbed his neck as they flew out of the opening at the far end of the cavern and she noticed that he had grown much larger than before.

  "Of course," he said, his powerful voice rumbling beneath her.

  *****

  At first, Calexis felt only a slight tremor from somewhere far to the north, so focused was she in the opposite direction, waiting for the one she sought, that it was too late when she suddenly felt her dead soldiers in Kandara being destroyed. She reached out through the link that connected her to Mirdel but she could not find him, and she realized that it had been some time since she had heard the thoughts of the oversized duke. Calexis turned away from the window where she had taken to waiting, listening and feeling for the presence of the power that was slowly moving toward her, and she put her energy into her soldiers in Kandara, trying to discern what was happening. As they were killed, almost all of them at once, she saw only flashes of strange looking people with white hair and dark markings upon their bodies as they attacked with blinding speed.

  One of the soldiers heard a deep and powerful sound above him, causing him to look up into the sky and Calexis caught a glimpse of a shape she recognized. Far larger than the last time she had seen it, and much more powerful, the black dragon bellowed and screeched across the grey northern sky, then the vision abruptly ended. Calexis growled and hissed, infuriated that she had been so careless, and confused that she would not have noticed that Mirdel was no longer under her magic. Somehow the power that bound him to her had weakened, but she was not sure how such a thing could have happened. In a moment of panic, she reached out through her connection to her army and found Berant and the other soldiers dutifully traveling toward the elven forests, and all of them still appeared to be firmly in the grip of her power.

  The loss of Kandara irritated Calexis, but the reappearance of the dragon prince, while an annoyance, was also another opportunity. If she could take his power, she could finally gain the full measure of the dragon gift, completing that which she had taken from the older brother, Elric, the failed young king of Kandara. With such power, along with that of the others who would soon fall into her trap, and finally the power of the one she awaited, who drew nearer to her with every passing moment, Calexis knew she would be truly unstoppable. She turned her attention back to the one she truly sought and froze, her eyes wide with frustration, for she could no longer feel him. It was as though he had disappeared completely.

  *****

  "What have you done?" Stroma cried, his thoughts a combination of concern and intense pain.
>
  "I would have thought the great and knowledgeable Stroma would recognize such a spell," Aaron replied.

  "Of course I do, but this is unbearable, Aaron," the god complained.

  "If you can't take it, then get out of my head."

  "You know I can't do that. I am stuck with you."

  "Then you can suffer with me."

  Aaron gritted his teeth against the blinding pain of the ward he had created, and he forced one foot in front of the other. The road he walked rose up over a hill and, rising in the distance against the dark clouds of an ominous sky, he saw the high walls and towers of the city of Maramyr.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Jax walked back toward the blazing fire, his expression dark and his mood even darker, for it seemed that he was trapped in this strange place. It like walking around in the night sky, his feet finding purchase on what felt like solid ground, except there was nothing below him, or above him for that matter. Jax had walked and walked in numerous different directions, but it seemed to make no difference in his position, relative to the stars, which were little more than countless tiny points of light glimmering at him from far off in the distance. And no matter which way he went, Jax always seemed to find himself back near the fire and the man who had disappeared long ago, his father, whose shameful act had caused so much trouble in the world.

  Jax sat down on the other side of the fire and stared at his father, Dash Larian, the former protector to the royal family, a task at which he had not only singularly failed but was apparently also the one responsible for their deaths. As far as Jax could tell from Dash's drunken and somewhat incoherent confessions, it was his hand that had carried out the attack on the king and his family, though Jax also wondered what role the book he carried might have played. Stuck in this place, and hearing Dash ramble through the story more than a few times, he was able to piece things together somewhat, and he had ample time to consider how things had all come about.

  The book, which Jax recognized from various descriptions he had heard, was a copy of the magical tome of the black robed priests, believed by the few mages he had encountered over the years to possess a magic that would enslave anyone who looked upon its pages. Jax also knew that the nature of the book would not have been well known years ago when Dash would have acquired it. Back then, there was no priesthood, or at least they did not promote their cult openly, thus there would be no reason for anyone with magical ability to be wary of such a book. At this point, however, the rumors about the book were still not well known in many circles, despite the fact that most of the mages across the land and in other kingdoms as well had already fallen under the spell of this supposed one god, becoming converted into devoted followers. Unfortunately, it seemed that whomever had given Dash the book, somehow knew that he had a hidden talent for magic and, from his description of the things he saw, and what came after, once he had gazed upon its pages, he had apparently become subject to its will.

  Strangely, whatever magic the book possessed, whatever spell it was that took hold of the will of those who gazed upon it, did not seem to have any effect in this odd place of stars and nothingness The fact that Dash, despite his apparent madness and perpetual state of drunkenness, no longer seemed to be under its power was a fair indication that the book was likely safe to open, and since Jax had even less of an affinity for magic than his father, he figured it might not be dangerous to take a look. Though he was wary at first, out of curiosity and more than a little boredom at being stuck in this place for however long, he decided to open the book, wondering what sort of story it might have to tell.

  Though the images were ever changing, its themes were consistent. Looking into the book was like seeing the thoughts of a madman, its pages full of darkness and violence, images of death and destruction, intermingled with the occasional object of beauty, which would then rot or crumble. It was thoroughly depressing, and Jax imagined that if he were to be stuck here like his father for seemingly endless years, with only such images, he would be driven to drink as well, if not to madness. Dash had been more than willing to give up the book and Jax noticed that his conversations seemed to be noticeably more coherent of late, though it could also be a result of simply having someone to talk to. Jax closed the book and looked at his father again as the man reached into nowhere and pulled out another bottle.

  "What are we drinking today?" Jax asked, even though he did not know whether it was day or night, and he contemplated if he should simply count the bottles his father drank, as some sort of accurate measure of time.

  "Maeran sweetwater," Dash replied as he pulled the cork with his teeth then spit it onto the nonexistent ground. "And it's as good as I remember it, better even."

  He took a swig and held up the bottle.

  "No, thank you," Jax said. "I still don't know how you do that."

  "Like I said, it's easy," Dash said with a grin. "You just have to want it, and reach for it."

  "Well it doesn't work for me."

  Jax had tried repeatedly to grasp things out of thin air the way his father managed to do, but without any success. Perhaps he did not want anything badly enough for it to appear, and if Dash was correct about how such strange magic worked, it appeared he wanted very badly to remain drunk.

  "The only thing I really want is to get out of here," Jax said. "Unfortunately, it seems that isn't an option."

  "Why?" Dash asked. "What's the point of being anywhere else?"

  "I don't know, perhaps living a life, doing things in the world, you know, things that people do," Jax replied, with more than a little sarcasm.

  "No point," Dash said. "It's all dead."

  "What's all dead?"

  "Life is death."

  "That makes no sense," Jax said.

  "It doesn't?"

  "No, it doesn't."

  "Well that's where it leads, the path to nothingness."

  "I think you've been reading too many books," Jax said, and he held up the book in his hand. "This one in particular."

  "I've seen its pages, I have," Dash insisted. "Everything dies. It's better here, where there's a warm fire, plenty to drink and the stars always shine."

  "Yet nothing dies in this place," Jax commented.

  "Ha! That's because there's nothing here," Dash replied with a grin.

  "You're here, aren't you?" Jax pointed out, and Dash frowned.

  "Well I suppose that's true, but this is no kind of a life."

  "On that we happen to agree," Jax said. "Do you think you could find a way out of here if you really wanted to?"

  "I don't know," Dash said, staring at the mouth of the bottle. "I don't know. This place is a wonder. I think we should stay."

  "Maybe you don't want to leave, but I do," Jax told him. "Maybe you want to help me."

  "I would love to help you, my boy," Dash said, looking at him across the flickering flames, his eyes suddenly sharp and his gaze direct and penetrating. For a moment he looked exactly the way Jax remembered him, then one of his eyes drooped and his focus was gone. "There's really no point. It's all gone."

  "What's all gone?" Jax asked.

  "All of it," he said. "They're all dead."

  Jax sighed in frustration as Dash took another drink and began mumbling to himself. It was like this every time Jax had tried to talk with his father, one moment or two of clarity, then back to his drunken ramblings. A part of him wanted to slap the man and tell him to wake up, to face the things he had done, and another part of him did not have the heart. If this had been his existence all this time, it was no wonder Dash had lost his mind. No matter how many things he might want and be able to get just with a thought, the truth of the matter was that he was still trapped here, and until recently, he was all alone, with only his own thoughts and the mad visions of a dark god, which could not have helped. Jax looked down at the book in his hand and considered whether he should just toss it in the fire. If, somehow he managed to escape from this place, he had already decided that he would leave the book behi
nd. It was better off in such a place, where it could no longer do any harm. Jax was about to open the book again, when he suddenly felt it move. He gripped the book tighter as it moved again, almost as though someone was trying to pull it from his hand. He stood up as the book tugged even harder, pulling steadily away from him and he grabbed hold of it with both his hands.

  "What are you doing?" Dash asked.

  "The book," Jax said. "It's trying to get away from me."

  "Let it go then," Dash said. "Let it do what it wants."

  "No," Jax said. "If this foul tome is to go anywhere, it will go into the fire."

  Jax pulled on the book and he saw the stars in front of him begin to move, blurring and swirling, and he saw a strange light appear, similar to what had brought him here. It seemed that the book was trying to return to the world, and as much as he did not like that particular idea, he realized that it might mean he could find his way back as well.

  "Would you help me with this," he said to his father.

  "No, thank you very much," Dash said. "You keep it."

  "But I think it might be a way out of here," Jax said.

  "A way out?" Dash smiled, then he frowned. "Well there you go."

  "Come with me." Jax felt his grip on the book slipping as the swirl of light in front of him continued to grow in size.