The builders of the fortress included baths in their design; baths filled by the mountain runoff and heated by stoves beneath the floor. The soldiers discovered several large public baths and a few small, private baths throughout the fortress.
If she managed to get away to continue her quest for the princess, she would miss the luxuries of Linfrathâr.
“General!” The voice sounded distant, and frantic.
Calli turned to find the source.
“General Marjan!”
A rider returned! Lather covered the horse’s neck where the reins rubbed, and along its cheeks from the bridle. The horse gleamed with moisture from head to tail. She knew none of the riders sent out, but Marjan would.
The general watched from the base of the fortress with a group examining items pulled from the wreckage of the fortress. The rider streaked straight to him.
Curious, Calli jogged to join him. Something was wrong. She wanted to know what.
His fur-lined cloak and hair were dark with water as he reined the horse to a hard stop before the general. The chestnut horse stood on trembling legs, wheezing and coughing. A trickle of blood dripped from its nostrils.
Breathing nearly as hard as the horse, the short man jumped from the saddle to land on unsteady legs. He must have ridden hard. He leaned on the horse until his legs steadied.
Taelyn? That name wanted to fit with the face from her memories.
“Sir…” He paused. A young recruit took the reins of the horse and led it away. “Sir, I—”
Marjan crossed his arms, a stern look on his face. “We’ve few good mounts, and none deserve such cruelty.”
“My apologies, sir.” The rider paused. “I’ve a horror on my tail, though.”
“Tyrkam?”
He shook his head. “That’s the least concern. A new terror reigns.”
Calli stiffened. What could be worse than Tyrkam? She glanced aside at Marjan, who gave no more indication of his concerns than the slight shift of his jaw.
Taelyn focused on the general. “The legends are true! The dragons have returned.”
“Dragons?” Marjan lifted a hand to the brown and gray stubble covering his jaw.
“Three chased me into the mountains, one almost to the valley. I dared not look back but believe they came not beyond the snows falling.”
Calli shivered at the familiarity with the tales her father told her. Dragons could not be real. Not now. Not here on Ayrule. “They are myth.”
“Myth or not, I know what I saw. I know what scared the horse to this.” His eyes widened, exposing the fear gripping him. No man familiar with the blood of war feigned fear like that. If not for that glimpse of his soul, she would still doubt.
He turned back to Marjan. “I beg forgiveness for my waste of a good horse, but felt haste was prudent, General. These red beasts threaten all the people of Ayrule, not just Cavatar. They attack the villagers and set fire to the lands.”
Part of Calli feared for Jayson, while the other part of her wished he was there to advise them. She suspected he knew more than he let on, particularly since he seemed comfortable with the magic of the valley. If not for his suggestion of crossing the mountains, they would not have found it. Had he intended that all along?
Did he know anything about dragon lore? Only her father’s bedtime stories came to mind, and they were of good dragons of most colors except red. Never had they instilled a fear as this news did.
Marjan clamped his jaw, chilling the air with his silent contemplation. He motioned the rider away and turned to face her. “My lady,” he said in a grim tone, “if you take my counsel, we’ve more important matters than Cavatar and Tyrkam to attend.”
She glanced to where the horse walked with one of the younger lads to rest. It coughed almost nonstop, broken from its arduous race. For many reasons, she was glad the scout rode hard, but for the animal’s sake, she wished otherwise. “Graver matters indeed, General.”
He gave a nod and strode away.
Calli hurried to the fortress. Her ride could wait.
* * *
“What proof have yeh?” Kale crossed his arms, a glint of challenge within his dark eyes.
Calli looked around the room from one old soldier to another and back to Marjan, who studied Kale from across the table, a heavy frown on his face.
In the worn and haggard face of the captain, she could draw a map of a grim land. According to what she’d heard, he’d seen his share of death, most of it at his own hands. He was rough but influential on the others. His judgment tipped the scales in any decisions in which he participated. If he doubted any of what Taelyn said, the others might also.
Except Marjan. His opinion counted more than any. “We’ve a dead horse. I’ve known no animal to run itself like that from any less than mortal danger.”
“A dead horse is not proof.”
“See for yourself!” The sudden disruption of Taelyn’s conviction silenced the room. The seven other men turned to him. “They lay waste to our homelands. Every living thing is ash behind them. Cattle and sheep vanish. The people will starve within a year, if they’re not first eaten.”
Another soldier, a voice of reason among Marjan’s council, raised his voice. “Where did these creatures come from?”
Men turned to one another. Calli looked to Marjan, who shrugged. No one knew the origins of these creatures. They came out of nowhere, as if they sprang from the pages of the old books.
Part of her suspected Jayson would know. He knew more history than anyone.
“The problem is not whence they come but that they are.” The calming voice of the elder soldier, Lauflan, diffused the building tension like a leak in a water sack. More gray than brown covered his head.
“Exactly.” The lines in Marjan’s face softened with relief and he leaned over the table, which—by the score marks—was once part of a supply wagon. “We’ve a new matter to concern us. Tyrkam threatens us less than these creatures. We must learn what we can of this new enemy.”
A few heads nodded in agreement, though no one volunteered the inevitable.
A knot tightened in Calli’s stomach. The conflict between her desire to see the world outside of Arronfel and the fear inspired by the sight of the dead horse twisted within her. She had to know what happened to her home in the palace, yet caution raged within her to stay safe in the valley.
For several long seconds, no one said anything. She caught the eyes of a couple men, only to spy the fear they hid before they turned away. No matter what they might say, they believed Taelyn. They all saw the horse before it collapsed. They realized the truth of the terror that chased it to death.
“I’ll go.”
Heads turned to her. A sudden warmth rose to Calli’s cheeks. That was wrong. She never intended to say it, whether thinking it or not. “I mean…” Despite her best intentions to stay, the part of her that wanted to know took over. “What friends I have will no doubt join me.” She hoped.
Marjan’s grim face hid the surprise that slightly lifted the pitch of his voice. “I’d rather a lass as yourself—”
“General, I must.” The conviction in her voice startled her. She lowered her tone and took a deep breath to calm her heart pounding in her ears. “I’ve too long settled here. My mission was to rescue the Lady Istaria, but that changed. I owe my life to the family. I must know what’s become of Cavatar. Tyrkam I expected. This, I’ve no knowledge.” She let out a sigh and dropped her eyes. “I’ll take a few others bearing my deepest trust. You—all of you—serve best through your experience. I’ve not near that, but need to see for myself.”
And you wish to find Jayson, her inner voice said. She looked up to a curious rise of Marjan’s brow. He probably suspected her true reason. “I must, or I’ll never rest.”
He gave a slight nod and looked to the others. “Have we no others brave enough to join the lass?”
Narrowed eyes and clenched jaws answered his question. None of them dared speak up, lest h
e look the fool by his tongue.
The grizzly old Kale grunted his sentiment. “The smaller the group, the better.”
From what Marjan told her, Kale, reckless a warrior as he might be on the battlefield, spoke with the wisdom of experience. They would agree with him so no one joined her. He had, in effect, denied them any chance they might have considered.
If that’s the way he wanted it, he could have it. Calli swallowed her doubts and straightened with the conviction of her choice. “Only a few.” She brushed aside stray hairs with unnecessary force to steady her trembling.
It might have been a foolhardy plan, but they wanted more information. The only emotions she read in the faces of the men around her were relief and pity. They probably pitied her for being the one to take on this mission and felt relief that Marjan let them choose not to join her. None would think less of her for backing down.
That was not an option. She had to go.
“The matter is settled.” Marjan took in each pair of eyes as if trying to will at least one of them to join her. She appreciated that. At last, he gave a minute sigh. “Our Lady Calli will leave us to learn what she can o’ this new threat.”
Calli overheard a whisper from one officer to another: “Better that Marjan answer to no one.”
She bit her tongue on a retort. Marjan granted her the satisfaction of seeing the offender wither from his cold look. Whether he heard the exact comment or not, he knew the speaker never approved of their arrangement.
Perhaps best if I leave now that the tension ease.
“Good luck, lass,” Marjan said.
__________
Jayson
Jayson climbed the hilltop overlooking the Abbregow River on its lazy course through what had once been land lush with foliage. Now, black ash and dust lifted in small clouds around each of his footfalls. His boots hid beneath a coat of it. Any snow in this area had melted from the fiery breath of the wyverns.
Since his emergence from the vault, he found the path of the winged beasts and avoided becoming a meal for several. They were easy to follow, since they left blackened debris in their wake, but they crossed paths with others. He knew not whether he followed the same group. They probably split and went their separate ways to wreak destruction on the world.
He halted at the knoll, his foot stopping next to a fistful of green grass scored black at the ends by the fires of the beasts. In the low valley before him, four red mounds crowded the landscape.
He dropped to the ground, careful not to send up too much dust and ash into the air. To cover his tracks, he focused his power on the wind to blow his scent away rather than toward the beasts. Unfortunately, it meant the scent of death carried to him from the wyverns.
The four beasts slept without fear in the open. The trees bent over from the weight of the beasts pressed against them. One slept on the remnants of a scorched building, its tail curled around the blackened masonry of the hearth.
What poor soul appeases you? He grimaced at the thought. For them to sleep soundly after just a few days of awakening from their four thousand year slumber could only mean full bellies.
They would take more if possible. He’d be sure to give them a bellyache if they caught him, but they wouldn’t. A simple wide berth was all that he needed to avoid them.
As he prepared to back away, the desire to punish them for their atrocities stopped him. He caught himself arguing against his previous logic. As much as Jayson wished to kill them, four to one posed enormous odds against him succeeding. One dragon drew good odds against him. Not exactly what he liked.
I’ll not chance it. I’ve not the power.
But he needed not that kind of power. The sleeping beasts blew wisps of smoke out their nostrils with each deep breath. They slept as they had in the vault. Perhaps this was his chance to make up for his mistake. If he could stab at least one of them in one of the two soft spots on its head, he could kill it, but the power of the beast could as well kill him.
Not even Haiberuk would dare risk it.
A tingle of power shivered through his limbs.
Jayson lifted a hand before him. The aura of magic shimmered in the afternoon sun like the heat off the land in the summer. He marveled at the transparent emanations of power and smiled. Never had magic flowed as freely through him. Had Haiberuk done this when he healed him? Or was this the master’s idea all along?
Either way, his chances of success turned a little to his favor.
Now, how best to use this gift… His mind raced to form a plan. Magic could not kill dragons.
One thought distracted him—that he would return to Calli, using this new ability, and save her from these beasts. His heart thumped at the idea, emotions demanding to protect her.
While caution roared through his mind against the actions forming in his thoughts, he made his decision. A new boldness quieted the voice of caution.
Using the simple trick of invisibility, he proceeded with his plan.
The Red Clan remained sleeping at his approach, their deep breaths echoing in their bellies. The foul odor of decayed flesh topped with the stench of something he could not compare almost choked him.
He stopped in front of the nearest wyvern. A few of its jagged teeth protruded from its jaw. Rough scales lined its face and the crest of its head. The eyelids remained shut, but he dared not look away.
Jayson walked closer to the left eye and stopped. The eyelids covered a socket the diameter of his arm length. Despite the intimidation of the creature’s size, determination seized him in his mission. Without thinking, he lifted his hand above his head as if raising a spear.
Borne from the energy coursing through him, a spear blazed within his grasp. Jayson looked up in astonishment for only an instant. He jabbed it down into the wyvern’s soft spot a few feet behind its eye.
And found himself several strides back while the red wyvern twitched within a glowing ball of energy. With its magic loosed, it burned from the inside out. Magic crackled and snapped.
The other three stirred from their slumber.
As if watching from outside his body, Jayson saw himself rush to the next wyvern and attack with the same weapon as the first. Without pausing to watch the results, he hurried to the third of the four
The red beast lifted its head. It stared at the sizzling, smoking mound of its two kin.
The large yellow eyes scanned its surroundings with the fourth. The two remaining wyverns stood up and spread their wings, howling with rage.
Jayson covered his ears.
He should be dead, but they ignored him. Was he still invisible? He’d lost his focus on the spell, yet it continued its effectiveness.
They searched every place but where he stood. Their dark thoughts whispered at the edge of his awareness as they communicated their desire for revenge. Finding no one to blame for the deaths of their kin, the two lifted from the ground. Their wings pounded the air.
Jayson covered his head with his arms. One thought troubled him—that they would take out their hatred upon the innocent. How could he follow? He could not allow anyone to die for his mistakes.
What of the others? Would they not also bring death and destruction on the innocent? He could not save them all. Only the true dragons could counter these terrible beasts.
He shaded his eyes to watch the two wyverns vanish into the distance. The dragons of Eyr Droc likely knew of the reawakening but had not the chance to react, or perhaps they planned not to.
If he sought their counsel, he would again encounter Darius and Istaria.
Jayson brightened at the thought and took his bearings by the sun. Darius! Of course! One of the only Sh’lahmar he knew still alive. With Darius was the princess, the vessel of the white dragon, the one creature who could undo the damage Lusiradrol wrought.
With that thought, he started out on a new course. Although the decision to abandon Calli to the possibility of an attack by Lusiradrol pained him, duty called. If he allowed her to perish, he would ne
ver forgive himself. But if he allowed his feelings and emotions to interfere with his sacred duty to serve all mankind, he could never live with himself.
May fate protect her, he prayed for Calli. Since I cannot.
__________
Istaria
Istaria woke with a start. A hint of dread lingered from her dreams, dark dreams she could not describe within reason. She rubbed her eyes to try to clear them away but the strange images stuck in her head. Nothing would erase it but a distraction to anchor her in the physical world.
She sat up and pushed the silvery white braid of hair behind her. In the palace, a few courtiers had mistaken her for an old woman because of that hair and the veil she had worn to cover her face, until someone identified her. Now, at seventeen, she was a grown woman. Moonlight spilled through the tall window onto the smooth wooden floor and rugs. A gentle breeze played with the curtains hanging over the window. The bureau across the room held so little, and the rough angles created sharp shadows.
This was no palace, but it was her home and more of a home than any she had known.
Next to her, Darius snored lightly, his back to her. He had stood by her through many obstacles, but the baby within her would challenge them both. Darius would never abandon her, though. As a Sh’lahmar, he had lived his life to serve the white dragon. Now, he would live the rest of his life to serve his own child.
Their child. She rubbed her belly. As her middle grew, the nausea of the first few moon cycles waned. Her energy also returned. Although some scents yet churned her stomach, she resumed her teachings with Sethirngal, the eldest of the firedrakes, without interference.
With the resumption of lessons came the uncontrolled visions. The more she practiced, the easier the magic flowed. Precognition was one of the white dragon’s best known abilities, according to the others.
Legends Page 5