She wished it was something else, anything else. The visions were often of horrible scenes that caused a queasiness made worse by the pregnancy.
This hadn’t been a premonition, though, but just as bad. The eerie sensations brought on by the shadow at the edge of her awareness disturbed her still after waking. She wanted to hide but could not escape the dread lingering over her heart.
She had faced it in the dreams, the looming darkness surrounding her. She had confronted it and her fears, but it was all a dream, not real. This was different, the physical world and not the imaginings of her mind, and the darkness still lingered.
She had to distract herself.
Istaria slid her legs off the bed and landed softly on the floor. The chill of the wood under her bare feet sent a shiver through her while the cool breeze billowed the ends of her nightgown around her ankles. Nights in that realm were cool but not cold. Winter never came.
She hurried to the door and pulled it open quickly to avoid making too much noise. Darius swore he’d put some oil on the squeaky hinge, but more important matters distracted him. After a glance back to be sure Darius laid undisturbed, she slipped out.
Moonlight cast a faint glow on the banister overlooking the lower level. She followed it to the stairs and descended. The wood creaked beneath her bare feet. She winced but hurried to reach the dining room, where a pitcher of cool water awaited.
As she stepped onto the quiet main floor, a familiar voice reached out to her.
Istaria halted, listening.
Milady! Milady! A blurry, shadowy shape darted past her. She turned in the direction it flew to find that the reptilian drakin circled back to her. Its weight landed on her shoulder, and tiny claws pricked her skin through her gown.
Jaren blinked his large, dark eyes, which reflected the wan moonlight from the windows. He tilted his head in the jerky motion of a bird while settling his wingtip claws onto her gown for balance. She tried to stay still. Those claws hurt when he gripped to keep his balance. Although she would have preferred he land elsewhere, he was there and she had no intention of sending him away yet.
Milady, he said in a less frantic tone and squawked.
Istaria clamped her fingers around his extended jaw. You’ll wake Darius.
Forgive me, Lady. I come from the dragons. They are always aware of events outside the gateway and wish only to protect you and the baby. Only today—
What’s the matter? Jaren was useful as a messenger, but he was prone to jabbering more than she preferred, or anyone preferred. Interrupting him was a necessity of cutting an often long and unrelated discourse.
The old ones are troubled. They wish you to join them if you hope to save your realm. Lusiradrol has loosed her clan upon the lands.
Istaria put her hand to her heart to calm it. This was no coincidence. The chill of her sleep meant something—a vision of the present, or at least one interpretation of it.
She gave her hand to the small dragon-like creature. He crawled onto it. Wake Darius. Have him join me at the gathering place. Go now! She tossed him into the air.
Jaren fluttered up to the second floor banister.
She hurried barefooted out the front door of the house. The gathering place, the large meadow favored by the five elder drakes, was close. She raced over cool grass, through the trees, to the group of various colored dragons in their place of council.
Five bodies ranging from blue to gold shimmered beneath the light of two waxing moons. With wings folded against their bodies, the dragons formed the points of a star. A cloud of smoke hovered around the center, blurring the reptilian heads ranging in accents from smooth scales to spiked.
Istaria stood at the outside looking in. Although she hated the smoke of their internal fire, she had no choice if they summoned her. The elder drakes were the five remaining of those who battled the Darklord before he merged with the dragon embryo and lost his memory. The other elder drakes had died in the dragon wars. None of the other living dragons were born until after the black dragon. These five alone possessed the knowledge to battle the Darklord and his minions.
A long, graceful neck rose above the cloud. The moonlight set the smooth scales aglow on the gold dragon, Dethanea. She blinked large eyes set well back of the jaw full of pearly teeth. Come, child.
We’ve matters long due gone;
on your shoulders they rest upon.
This night bears ill
with the burden of winter’s chill.
Curious but cautious, Istaria strode between two bodies to the cloud. At her approach, the four heads in close proximity pulled away, clearing the air around an orb hovering above the ground at the level of her eyes.
Colors blurred within the orb. The images sharpened at her approach, and she stopped two strides away. What’s this?
Her teacher, Sethirngal, blew a swirl of smoke from his nostrils and a faint growl rumbled from deep within his green body.
While men suffer, we cannot sit by.
To save the true we must try.
That leaves us one problem posed—
that you with child are exposed, said Frendal, a topaz dragon of rough scales.
Istaria frowned. I thought I was safe here.
From Lusiradrol’s magic, you’ve no fear;
but other mortals may enter here.
Istaria inhaled sharply. She assumed only particular individuals could pass through the gate of Eyr Droc. The shock blinded her from a familiar presence in the magic.
The warmth of his touch on her shoulder startled her. She whirled on Darius.
“Easy, my love.” The gentle smile melted some of her tension. “I followed as soon as I heard Jaren.”
Istaria caught her breath and laid her forehead against Darius’s chest. His arm over her shoulders drained away the panic and his body warmed her in the cool night.
Our time has come to step in, Sethirngal said,
if we are this war to win.
Your skills are needed here
to keep the future clear.
Darius nodded his agreement. His eyes dropped from the dragon to her, the gentle smile on his face reassuring. “None will harm them. I pledge my life on that.”
Dethanea dropped her head to meet their eyes.
A pledge you gave once before,
now to keep ever more.
“Do what you must. I’ll protect them. You have my word.” Darius rubbed Istaria’s shoulders and held her close. “Our friends and family are at stake.”
Istaria set her hand on his and squeezed it. Not one cycle of the first moon had passed since the release of the Red Clan from their long slumber. Although he acted unaffected, Darius had taken the news hard. His practices lengthened. Part of her wondered if he mourned his fellow guardians, despite his assurances otherwise.
The drakin your watchers will be
along with the youngest of our family.
But the one called Jaren wills it so,
with us to carry messages will go. The dark blue dragon known as Darmîndren blinked and stretched his wings. The others also stretched in preparation for flight.
What of my lessons?
Sethirngal lowered his green head and fixed his large eye on her. She swore a wry smile curved up his scaly lips.
Many thousands of years had we;
as much they spent stationary.
Think not we shall be missed,
but back when all is accomplished.
Although she feared the worst, Istaria found hope in his words. I’m eager for your return.
Starting with the gold dragon, each took to the sky, heading in the direction of the portal to the First Realm. They returned to their first home, and hers. The Second Realm was only a sanctuary.
The last to take flight was her primary teacher, the largest of the elder drakes and the darkest of the green dragons. A touch of anxiety crept into her mind at his leaving. He had taught her much, yet many times made it clear that she had far to go in using the powers
bestowed upon her by the spirit of Gilthiel.
After all the elder drakes vanished through the portal, she turned to Darius. I never thought I would miss a dragon’s company.
“You’ve come far in little time.” He lifted her hand to his lips and gently kissed the back.
Despite his and the dragons’ reassurances, doubts lingered in her mind.
__________
Dorjan
Dorjan turned from the window to the scene behind him, exasperated to be in the same room as the spoiled young steward of the Wynmere territory.
“Never question my judgment!” Vahrik’s dark eyes blazed with anger. Dorjan knew that look well. How many times had Tyrkam expressed the same hot temper in their early years, until experience and the discovery of the white dragon cooled his head? Vahrik took after his father more than either would admit.
This boy would never match his father, though. Too spoiled on the privileges afforded him. Tyrkam had learned the hard way how to survive. He also possessed the patience necessary to achieve his goals. Vahrik, in his youth, showed none of the patience.
Had he known the child would grow into a pompous fool, Tyrkam would have left him for the Rivon. Tyrkam had raised the boy in the hopes that he might one day serve him.
The eighteen year old sent the woman scurrying out of the room. A pair of armed guards stood watch at the door, leaving Dorjan otherwise alone with Vahrik.
The boy turned his scowl on Dorjan. “Will you also oppose me?”
Dorjan smirked beneath his ruddy beard and peered up from under heavy brows. Although he appeared many times the boy’s age in his purposefully unkempt appearance and so he was, but Dorjan was young by standards of those like him and could take Vahrik faster than he could blink.
Tyrkam wanted more than Vahrik, though. The guards at the door were among many in the castle loyal to the petulant child. The boy hinted of what Tyrkam suspected—betrayal. Dorjan would need more information before sending word back to the overlord.
Dorjan took two steps to stop at the long table, fearing nothing.
“Since I claimed my place, you’ve nothing but disdain, or dare I say jealousy? He made me steward of the western lands.”
Dorjan said nothing, though his amusement struggled to escape. Never had he the desire for power and the risks with it. He merely advised Tyrkam and stood in the shadows to watch; just as his brother, Kaillen, had come to guard Muriel in her quest for information before following her in death. Dorjan harbored no interest in the affairs of the Second Race or those seeking power. The ways of his race were not theirs.
Rather, he bided his time until the day he learned the truth of his brother’s and Muriel’s deaths.
“Speak, laggard!” Vahrik stopped on the opposite side of the table, a dark scowl on his clean-shaven face. “Say your piece. I see your thoughts work.”
Tyrkam had ordered Vahrik beaten for letting the princess escape cycles ago. The boy’s manners had not improved. On the contrary, the raging temper within boiled over more than ever.
“You wish to control me, too? I see it in your face. You think me less competent in thought and deed than you. I am keeper of the western territories now. My word is law.”
For all intents, Vahrik’s words indicated he tried to convince himself that he held authority. The boy lacked true confidence and masked the weakness in arrogance.
Vahrik slammed his fists on the table. “Damn you!”
A rumble too close for comfort shuddered through the stones at Dorjan’s feet and up through his body. That was not the boy.
Vahrik seemed not to notice, his eyes still intent. “Shall I cut out your tongue?”
Ignoring the tantrum, Dorjan rushed to the window. The calm of the day greeted his eyes. It was too calm; something was wrong.
He searched the line of trees past the clearing outside the wall. The trees stood naked, except for a light coating of snow highlighting the branches. The virgin snow started at the edge of the forest, where the troops housed below dared not tread.
He knew of the creatures inhabiting the forest from the strange sensations they caused him, but they never posed a threat; nor would they interfere with his mission.
On the other side of the castle, a sheer drop into the deep ravine through which the Braenbirn River flowed protected them from attack.
Another rumble vibrated from his boots, through his legs, and up his spine. It increased in intensity this time, yet nothing within his view warned of trouble. What was it?
“You will answer me!”
Dorjan turned and held up his hand to silence the boy. Could it be… Without a word, he strode out of the room, his insides twisting into knots of steel.
“I will not be ignored!” Vahrik’s voice trailed after him. “Guards!”
With each successive rumble growing in strength, Dorjan’s steps sped up across the castle. Since Tyrkam found the Flying Dragon amulet and made his deal with Lusiradrol two years ago, Dorjan wondered what else might return from history. Worse, what might attack.
He hated to prove his suspicions correct.
As he strode out the door and into the crisp evening air, the rumbling grew louder. Soldiers stood in silence, their gazes fixed on the wall overlooking the ravine. Dorjan hurried across the courtyard, expecting something large to crash down on the wall at the edge of the chasm. Despite his hesitations, he climbed the steps to the top.
Another rumble nearly shook him off. He grabbed the stones of the balustrade to keep his balance from the vibrations and shock.
A claw crashed down on the wall and a red-scaled head rose above it.
He stared into the wyvern’s yellow eye. Stones gave beneath the weight of the beast, sending him tumbling. He struggled to keep his place but rolled down the steps.
Dorjan rolled to his feet and pulled his sword in time to stare up at a large body of red scales. Lusiradrol had found her clan after all. The legends of his people warned of their evil.
Amid the turmoil throughout the courtyard, Dorjan made out the shouts of Vahrik commanding his guards to protect him.
“Fool,” Dorjan muttered. His sword would do nothing against those scales, but it felt better than nothing in his hands.
The dragon easily climbed into the courtyard amid the chaos and up the tallest building. It blew no fire nor made any attempt to attack.
Men attacked with arrows, which bounced off the thick scales. Leathery wings opened and the claws attached to them secured to the stones.
In only a few steps, the red wyvern reached the top. Stones and planks pounded to the ground as the roof on the top level collapsed. The red beast coiled its long tail around the keep and lifted its head high into the air.
Yellow eyes fixed on the forest of Wynmere and a sinister snarl curled back its lips.
Dorjan rushed through the throng of men, most giving up their futile attacks to stare in silence. He reached the open front gates as the dragon let loose with a stream of fire aimed at the forest.
Two more times the dragon blew fire at the bare trees. The thin layer of snow vanished beneath the heat of the flames, which reached high into the sky.
What was it doing? His thoughts echoed the questions asked among the guards.
The dragon finished its attack on the forest and lowered its head. It watched the flames from its perch atop the keep, a glint of dark satisfaction in its eyes.
“Do something! Were you not told to protect this castle?”
The petulance in the voice made Dorjan grit his teeth. If not for his promise to take down all of Vahrik’s supporters with him, Dorjan would have slit the boy’s throat at that moment. In spite of his great patience, even he could not abide such whining.
Instead, he took a deep breath and turned to face the boy.
Vahrik frowned as if expecting more.
Too happy to oblige, Dorjan swept his arms aside to point at the wyvern on its perch. “Thereupon sits the beast. Not arrow nor sword shall pierce such hide. Have you bet
ter ideas, I’ll hear them.”
A low growl rumbled from Vahrik’s throat, though he held his tongue.
Dorjan glared.
Motion from the red beast silenced all. It lifted its head and shifted its weight, gathering its hindquarters beneath it. It lifted its wings and let out a screech that rattled Dorjan’s teeth. Like all others, he dropped his weapon and covered his ears to muffle the piercing wail. The flap of wings beat at the air above. Something upset it.
Still holding his hands over his ears, Dorjan turned to the forest. A blue glow gained strength, extinguishing the flames from each tree.
The dragon ceased its shrieking objection to once again blow flames on the barren trees.
This time nothing happened.
“The forest—It is enchanted!” one of the guards said.
“Of course it is.” A self-satisfied smirk slithered up Vahrik’s face.
Dorjan retrieved his sword from the mud, uneasy with this new development. Why did the dragon attack? Would more follow to continue its work?
The beat of wings pounded the air. A few men fell back from the onrush of wind. Dorjan braced himself against the wall.
The angry beast flew over the forest and let loose another fiery assault. Although it attempted to destroy the trees, the protectors of the forest smothered its fire. No return attacks came from the forest.
With his personal guards beside him, Vahrik ordered men to organize repairs to the castle.
Dorjan shook his head and cleaned his muddy sword on his cape. “You must send a message to Lord Tyrkam.”
Vahrik scowled. “Send a rider…if you must.”
Dorjan gave a nod and strode away, glad to put distance between the brat and himself. He would catch Vahrik soon. The disrespect grew by the day, and would continue until Vahrik broke. The boy could be manipulated to show his true loyalties all too easily.
__________
Vahrik
Vahrik snarled at the old warrior’s back. Dorjan always questioned his decisions. Both Dorjan and Tyrkam conspired against him. They would see that he, Vahrik, was better than them both combined. His word would be law.
When Dorjan disappeared inside the keep, Vahrik looked up again at the crushed top floor. Tyrkam would find a way to blame him for the damage.
Legends Page 6