As silently as he arrived, the assassin departed. The hooded figure opened the door and merged into the shadows of his namesake.
With such a man to carry out his plans, Tyrkam would have the power soon.
__________
Makleor
Makleor shivered, although the chill came not from the air. He stopped within the shadows of the corridor as a twisting disturbance in the magic neared and waited. Voices echoed through the corridor from two servants who approached.
“Was not a one could speak. Udwe says Cook stomped out then.”
The younger woman gasped. “Did he hang her?”
The first shrugged. “Slapped her an’ warned her to hold her tongue, he did.” Their eyes passed with disfavor over Makleor and they hushed their gossip.
He cared not but reached out through the magic to test the essence of each. Neither sent more than the soft ripples through the magic of most mortals. The odd stirring of magic followed them.
Makleor hobbled past them without any show of interest, although he noted two of the large hunting hounds Tyrkam favored following the women. The upright ears pointed forward with muzzles lifted towards the women, both with thick hair as black as ebony and eyes as piercing as a wolf’s.
The twisting in the magic centered around the farthest dog.
After they passed, Makleor turned and focused on the intruder. It paid no attention to him but continued on as any hunting dog expecting its rations or scraps from the last meal.
Few shapeshifters were ever born to the whole of the world. No more than one could count on one hand lived during any point in time, excluding Gaispar. The identity of this one troubled him. Never had he encountered this individual; but he rarely left his chambers while with Tyrkam, except to visit the forest of Wynmere.
He could not follow without arousing suspicions, but Gaispar could.
First to find her.
Foregoing his walk, Makleor hobbled into an empty room. With no one watching, he rested the end of his staff on the floor and gazed into the crystal held by the carved dragon at the top. Picturing Gaispar in her true form in his mind, he called forth her image. A white wolf appeared in the crystal, against a backdrop of snow-covered trees. When his magic found her, he called on the power again.
He created a portal and stepped through before her.
The white wolf jerked as if startled and blinked at him. Gaispar transformed and bowed her head. “Master.”
“Have you errands, my dear?” Ever since the dragons left her with him for training, she used formalities when deferring to him. In three hundred years, he had never corrected her, but left it on her terms.
She looked up and blinked sparkling blue eyes, the same blue as any descended from the Majera gifted with some use of magic, the children of Light. This one was as any shapeshifter, however, and carried no more weapons of magic than her primary ability and the simple mindspeech used by all of magic.
Gaispar shook her head. “None, but to observe for the lady and return with news.”
“Good. I’ve need of your abilities.” He took a deep breath. She said nothing but waited for him to explain. “Another shapeshifter has come to my attention. He has dealings with Tyrkam. I cannot follow without notice, nor can this body endure pursuit. You are the best I have for this task.”
“As you wish. Where is this one?”
“I last encountered him in the palace of Cavatar, following two scullery maids. His presence left a twist within the magic as a good man bearing a darkness of the heart. Powerful too, as that of a mage.”
Her throat flashed when she swallowed. She realized the implications. Rare were the shapeshifters but even rarer those with mage powers besides.
With his good eye, he studied her closely. “Though you’ve no more than changing your form to protect you, the immortality granted will provide healing if needed.”
“I understand.”
“I know not for what vile purpose Tyrkam uses him.” Perhaps the time came to give more attention to Tyrkam rather than Lusiradrol. “Be careful.”
Gaispar gave a nod, a knowing smile on her lips. “Always.” She threw up her arms and flew away into the sky in the form of a hawk.
Makleor sighed, almost wishing he could have found another. But he trusted her and knew she was capable. She was ready for this, but he could not stand to see her hurt. If the other did serve Tyrkam, that was a likely possibility. Even the immortal could be killed under the right circumstances.
Knowing he could do no more and realizing by the darkening sky that the long winter night approached, Makleor called forth the magic once again. He stepped through an invisible portal and into his tower in Wynmere Castle.
With a thought, he drew the shutters closed and set the logs afire in the hearth. Stacks of books littered the small room. A layer of dust coated the table near the door, where his quill and ink bottle lay next to a pile of scrolls. The door remained shut, as it should be—he protected it with wards to keep out intruders. None could enter without some tricks of magic when he was gone.
He sighed, and his old bones creaked with death. He wished it would come, loathed the immortality placed on him. And yet, had he not been cursed, the white dragon would not have been able to return. The bearer would have fallen to attack long before they were able to reach the dragons. In that way, the white dragon had used him.
Such was his penance for allowing Lusiradrol to lead him astray.
The end loomed near now, perhaps a few more years for him.
__________
Dorjan
Dorjan stopped on the wallwalk and frowned at what he saw at the edge of the forest. Had Vahrik proven himself useful after all?
More than a hundred men toiled in the cold winter air, overseen by none other than the boy. They chopped trees and drove horses to pull the heavy bundles back to the castle.
His neck prickled with caution. Vahrik only worked when he had something to gain. After the dragon’s failure to burn the forest, this endeavor made Dorjan wonder. The dragon failed to burn the forest, and the Red Clan served Lusiradrol. Had the boy a bargain with Lusiradrol to finish the job? Why?
This bode ill for Tyrkam if Lusiradrol made promises to the boy, and she likely had.
Dorjan pulled his hood over grizzly hair and hurried to find someone he yet trusted to carry word to Tyrkam. Few remained, but he knew where to find them. As the warlord suspected, Vahrik gathered a following. Soon, Dorjan hoped to bring them to justice. For that matter, he could send an update to Tyrkam of his progress.
They would take the entire group of traitors in one blow.
To that effect he would inform Tyrkam of Vahrik’s activities and his suspicions of conspiracy with the dragon woman.
When he found one of the soldiers he trusted, Dorjan passed the message to him. Disgruntled by the authority given to the younger men recruited by Vahrik, the soldier swore to hurry the message.
Even in the best conditions, though, the fastest pace would mean half a moon cycle to the palace. If he was lucky, Tyrkam would send back a unit of loyal soldiers to ensnare Vahrik, but in the best conditions they would not arrive for another cycle after the message arrived. Winter complicated matters.
In the meantime, Dorjan was on his own. That meant continuing to keep one eye open when __________
Lusiradrol
The light of day dared not touch a brick of the decrepit fortress. Timbers lay strewn, decaying like the corpses of those who once inhabited the keep hundreds of years ago. Winter seeped into the sanctum of rubble and rot.
Sitting next to a fire in a corner, Lusiradrol fed her anger. The heavy clothes she wore protected her from the elements without the use of magic and hid the lithe form the white dragon cursed her to wear. As a dragon, she had inspired fear in the hearts of those who saw her. The black dragon. The one gifted by their master. As long as she had lived, she had been the master of the Red Clan. She had been born after the true master had disappeared.
The pounding of air interrupted her thoughts. It preceded the quaking of the ground beneath her. Twice she counted them.
Sssissster!
The urgency of the call snapped her from reaching the boiling point of her hatred. Her black heart cooled for the moment.
When a red-scaled head poked into her living space, she scowled her annoyance. “Why do you interrupt me?”
The dragon exhaled. Smoke rose from each nostril, snaking and coiling toward the ceiling. Reptilian eyes blinked. Our numbersss dwindle. The eggsss are not ready, and sssomeone hasss found a way to kill ussss. Despite using mindspeech because of a lack of the right vocal organs to form words—an advantage of her human form—they had never overcome their hissing. Too stupid, she knew. It had never been a problem for her, the gifted of their master.
Lusiradrol’s fury returned in full. It fed her power. With it the darkness in her opened. She tapped into it to find a well of power deeper than she expected. Thrilling in the reserves filling her, she smiled. Here was real power she could use! “Show me.”
On her command, the dragon opened her mind. The name Nasfaren came up. Lusiradrol probed the dragon’s memories but found nothing helpful. She saw the storm of power consuming her sisters, but no sign of the one responsible for the death.
“Idiots! Stay alert next time!”
We mussst sssleep after sssuch a big meal, Nasfaren replied. It isss nesssesssary. It isss how the massster made usss.
“Eat less next time.” They should not have eaten so much if they knew of that weakness. She never gorged herself.
Worse than that, though, was that someone discovered a way to kill her dragons. They spoiled her plans. She had invested too much time deciding how best to manipulate events to her favor. One way or another, the white dragon would not return. She would curse his spirit to the netherworld forever.
For that, she needed the individual attached to him. She needed the princess. Tyrkam took too long. There had to be another way.
Ignoring the dragon quietly puffing smoke curls inside her living space, she conjured a seeing orb. Lusiradrol focused her magic and found the man who had accompanied Calli. While walking a road through a forest of snow-covered trees, he stopped and turned to face her.
He looked directly at her.
Lusiradrol sneered. “Mage.” He could not see her, but must have sensed her presence. That meant more power than she suspected.
Proving he could not see her, he shrugged and turned to follow the path again. Lusiradrol scowled. Death to you, mage!
But first, return to the one who possesses your heart, fragile human. The stronger the bonds, the harder they are to cut.
He cared for Calli. That much she was certain. His eyes gave him away. If he cared enough, he would do anything to prevent harm to her. Lusiradrol could take advantage of that.
What ssshould we do about the killingsss?
Although annoyed by her sister’s need for guidance, she could not blame her for the stupidity. The Darklord had made the Red Clan that way to prevent any from becoming a threat to him.
All but her.
A sly smile spread across Lusiradrol’s face. He gave her much more than any other and would be pleased if he could see her carry out his purpose.
A shudder of magic passed through her like a cold breeze. Lusiradrol frowned but the magic disappeared before she caught it. No matter. Whatever it meant concerned her not for the moment.
Keeping her dragons alive mattered more. Who could do this? Based on the images recalled from the dragon, the individual must have used magic. Only a mage could leave no mark. They had found a way around the magic defenses of her kind.
“Mage!” She snarled the word. Only one man possessed such power.
The old fool! she silently cursed. But how could he? Makleor could barely get around, much less inflict harm on her dragons.
“Who then?”
Had another come into power undetected? She sensed no surge in magic, except…
The dark forces inside her stirred. A cold shadow passed over the fire in the hearth, extinguishing it. Lusiradrol turned to Nasfaren and a deadly calm passed over her. Yes. Destruction and death, and the end of a group she despised. With her clan, no one could stop her. “The witches will interfere no more.”
She doubted the Lumathir sent their own to kill her dragons, but destroying them excited her. For too long she had desired to cut the magi down. With her clan to aid her, she could not carry out those plans formed over the millennia.
What passed as a smile stretched scaly lips tight over the dragon’s teeth. A deep rumble vibrated from its throat like an avalanche of boulders.
Focused on her new target and lusting for their blood, Lusiradrol smiled. She and her dragons had decimated the men who held them captive, Haiberuk’s precious Shinna rî Aflahamar. The women of the Lumathir would soon realize the same fate.
Lusiradrol closed her eyes and reached out to the minds of her dragons scattered over the world. She called those closest back to her. She should not have been able to, if the stories that only the original Darklord and Majera possessed such power were to be believed; but she could. They eagerly obeyed.
With the witches of the Lumathir gone, only Makleor would stand in her way. He would be no match alone. Knowing his limitations fed her hunger for revenge.
Soon. The magi would be no threat, the white dragon would never return, and the world will be hers again.
__________
Jayson and Calli
Jayson shuddered at the eerie sensation and stepped carefully through the trail left by the three horses. Lusiradrol. Her dark power chilled his soul. She followed him again. This time he knew not why, except as a personal vendetta to see the last of the Sh’lahmar die.
“Vengeance.” His whisper turned to ice in the cold air as it left his lips. Had she discovered the slayings?
Not possible.
Not probable, but always possible. Anything was possible. As proof, he reminded himself that finding Calli outside Arronfel—in winter, no less—proved anything was possible.
He was close to catching her and the others. They rode horses, but he gained ground on them—another improbable situation made possible because of the horses’ needs to rest and take longer to eat than their riders.
His heart thudded against his chest at the thought. Soon he would be with Calli again. This time, he could tell her everything he knew.
This time he would not leave her.
A shadow fell over his soul. The familiar menace froze his breath. Jayson stopped in his tracks along the open road and looked up.
The red wyvern drew in its wings and dove toward something ahead of him. Calli was ahead of him.
“No!” His voice escaped on a breath. The fog dissipated as his heart nearly leapt from his chest. “Not again.”
They would not take another person he cared for, especially her.
He saw no other dragons to save them this time and broke into a run. With the new magic he had learned to use, he could defeat the single dragon, if he could reach them before it was too late.
“Calli! Calli!” Despite the distance, he hoped she heard him and looked back to see the danger closing in.
* * *
Calli frowned and turned her head.
“What is it?” Ellead scanned the scattered trees around them.
“I thought I heard something.”
“I heard many things these last days. I’ve no need to hear more.” Riding directly behind her, Fenwar’s wary voice reached her without trouble.
She twisted back to see him shudder. Whether from the biting cold or the strange noises he referred to, she could not say. She preferred not to know.
After seven nights traveling through the forest, they neared the edge, or must have been close since the trees thinned. The dragons bothered them no more, nor did whatever dwelt within the snowy forest. She breathed easier knowing they would soon leave the enchantment behind.
“Tha
t I’ll agree.” Calli turned back to the route they picked through the trees. “I thought I heard my name.”
“I’d not doubt you in this forest, but reason denies it.” Ellead’s fear was unfounded.
She shrugged not a second before Duke’s head jerked up with his ears facing behind and his body tensed beneath her. He jumped forward, resisting her efforts to restrain his flight.
“Easy, boy! Easy!” She pulled on the reins. Duke shook his head in protest but continued his panicked flight.
“Dragon!”
Calli ducked a low branch before risking a glance over her shoulder. Ellead and Fenwar lost control of their mounts and the pack horses pulled away. With some control, Fenwar guided his horse a different direction. After the last dragon attack, they decided to split up to avoid the kind of disaster that nearly killed them last time. One of them followed plans.
A roar from the heavens shook her courage, while she regained some control of Duke. She was able to turn him, even if she could not control his speed. The last time a dragon attacked, the horse reacted quicker than the lumbering beast. She needed that control now.
Ellead turned his horse sharp to the left as she reined Duke to the right.
A stream of fire shot past on her left. The heat warmed her through her clothes.
The dragon howled and swooped into the sky. The wind of its passing slapped her back.
Duke let her slow his mad dash to a controlled gallop. She guided him through the thinning trees and brush.
On either side, Ellead and Fenwar ran parallel but at a distance. The red beast circled overhead. What did it plan? Could it plan?
If so, they needed more of a strategy than running to escape.
Calli slowed Duke to a trot, saving him for the next onslaught. They could never outrun the dragon, nor could they outmaneuver it forever. They were lucky last time. This time, she expected nothing else to interfere. They were on their own.
Legends Page 9