Legends

by Melanie Nilles

  [“It’s not your time. They need you.”]

  Calli turned to her father. He squeezed her shoulders in reassurance.

  [“You must go back. I taught you all I could. If you learned anything, I hope it’s the courage to face your fears. We’re proud of what you’ve become.”]

  [“No. I want to join you!”] Didn’t he want her with him? Who was this other woman?

  [“Not yet. In time, you will. That time is not now. We have to leave, but we’ll meet you again when the time is right. Trust the Sh’lahmar, Calli.”]

  [“What is the ‘Sh’lahmar’?”]

  He said nothing but took the hand of the woman in his and both faded like smoke.

  “[Father?]” She ran to catch him, but he vanished from her grasp. “[Father!]”

  [And stay away from shadows,] his faint voice called.

  She ran towards his voice, but her feet grew heavy. Her whole body weighed down until she fell as if from the sky.

  In an instant, pain racked her body. It overpowered her and the world blackened, but not before Jayson’s face flashed before her eyes. Jayson—

  __________

  Jayson

  “More cider?”

  Jayson shook his head. “Thank you. No.”

  The woman flashed a polite smile and pulled her shawl around her slim shoulders. She ducked back out with the pitcher, and the door creaked a couple notes in closing behind her.

  He turned his face to the heat from the crackling fire next to him, his thoughts returning to his battle with the dragon.

  How had Calli done it? He knew of no mortal besides the m’athêrred rî Lûmea, the children of the Light, who could use any form of magic. Granted, the power had been limited, but Calli had used it. It obeyed her.

  He held her sword in his hands. Though the pommel was sized perfectly for Calli to carry it two-handed, he could not. The ornate design wrapping around the pommel from the end to the crossbar could only have been crafted by a master. The delicate scrollwork at the end twisted with vines and leaves of polished brass. Thereupon lied the clue. He never examined her sword in detail before; he never had a reason, thinking it just a more delicate blade made smaller for her and the designs of decorative value.

  Now he saw it, the words in the language of the Majera. The curving letters that appeared to be vines and leaves could have been mistaken as part of the detailed artwork. Calli had told him of the prayer etched into her sword in the language of her father, but he’d never seen anything.

  He was from Loringale, Jayson recalled. That was it, the answer he sought. The Ancients. It could not be, but he saw the proof for himself in the writing and the flecks of green dragon scale throughout the blade.

  All Sh’lahmar boys learned the history of the world, with the language of the Majera passed down through the ages by one of the Creators. Lôringai had changed some from the original Giardran tongue, but only in dialect. The people of the remote isle were one group of only a few hidden from outsiders. But they detested the outside world; or, more precisely, they despised the Second Race and the magi. Why would any leave the protection of their islands?

  Only she might tell him.

  From where he sat at the foot of the bed, Jayson looked down at the content expression on her face. Calli slept soundly beneath the warm blankets. Flaming curls of red splayed out over a soft pillow like the radiance of the sun.

  If her father had come from the island of Loringale, then Calli was a direct descendant of the men and women who built the great fortresses, the same who battled the Red Clan so many millennia ago. The Majera gifted them as a race with the use of magic.

  Jayson turned the sword over, reading the “prayer” inscribed, which roughly translated as “I call upon Creation to grant me the power of this sword for protection against my enemy.” If that was the meditation she invoked, it explained the shield. If not for the dragon scale contained within the blade, the words would have meant nothing, calling as it did upon the sword’s power. This sword’s power came from the dragon scale of a green dragon.

  Indeed your prince wished you to return unharmed. What did Phelan Isolder know of the sword he commissioned for her?

  A deep breath from Calli stole his attention. He set the sword beside the bed and watched her stir from her deep slumber. Did she know anything of this? If so, she played ignorant with him very well.

  But he doubted she would lie. She had no reason.

  When she was ready, he would ask.

  Jayson smoothed away a soft curl from her face.

  The matriarch of this small farm cottage, Llaeryn, had cleaned Calli, who had slept through it. From outside the door, Jayson heard her say, “Poor child,” more than a few times. He could only imagine how bad Calli’s wounds were. He hoped the magic he used would heal her completely.

  After tending to Calli, Llaeryn asked if they wished Calli to wear “proper” lady attire. He insisted on men’s clothes. However, the only ones in the household belonged to her husband and three stout boys. The shirt covered Calli to her knees while the breeches required adjustments. Llaeryn busied herself with that project.

  Without a daughter of her own, the woman was more than happy to treat Calli as hers. Her sons, meanwhile, took Ellead under their wings.

  These were the good folks of Cavatar. They understood hospitality and what living truly meant.

  Jayson reached for the lump under the blanket that was Calli’s hand lying at her side. The warmth of life greeted him through the wool blanket. A modest relief.

  He leaned forward with his head in his hands. What would they do now? Should he take her to Eyr Droc?

  What right did he have to withhold the truth any longer? Her intent was to rescue the princess. Originally, he could say nothing because of his sworn oath to guard the secret of the vault.

  Now he had nothing to protect. His original purpose had escaped from the cavern.

  What if she yet loved the man who gave her his promise? Jayson could not bear to know she would return to the prince if he reappeared. He could tolerate unrequited love better than losing it if she changed her mind. He refused to be only a reprieve to tide her heart until her true love returned.

  Better to say nothing.

  Besides, she might not like him much after he told her the truth. How would she take learning that he knew about her friend the whole time he spent with her and said nothing? Anything he might have said would have led to questions he could not answer, because of his vows.

  He could think of nothing more to say. His vows had bound him to the Sh’lahmar and the secret they guarded.

  The soft rustle of blankets made him sit up watching her. Finally.

  She groaned and rubbed her eyes.

  Her knee bumped against his back.

  Jayson took a deep breath to settle his unease and forced a smile. “Welcome back to the land of the living.”

  “Where am I?” She worked her mouth and grimaced. When she spoke, her voice was raspy. “Tastes like old mattress stuffing.”

  Jayson chuckled. “Then I recommend the hot cider, though I must wonder how you know what mattress stuffing tastes like.”

  Calli blinked and pushed herself up on one elbow. “Jayson?” She rubbed her eyes and looked again. Her face brightened. “Jayson! I must be dreaming.”

  “Not a dream. This is quite real.”

  She sat up slowly, her face pinched in pain. “Ooh. How long was I out?”

  “Two days.” He watched her, unable to take his eyes off. Too long had it been since they talked; each day an eternity. He had longed every moment to see her again. Now, she awoke and his insides fluttered and twisted with his desires and fears.

  She stopped short of sliding her legs out when she lifted the blanket to expose bare skin from her knees down. Chagrin flashed across her face as she flipped the blanket over them.

  “Llaeryn’s making adjustments to one of the boys’ breeches.”

  Calli nodded in understanding and pulled at t
he shirt. She peered at Jayson with a questioning lift to her brows.

  “You can thank her for that too.”

  “I hope she finishes the breeches soon.”

  Not knowing what to say, since he wished not to risk offending her with what he thought, he changed the subject. “You took a risk facing that dragon.”

  She dropped her eyes and swallowed. In the flickering light, he thought he saw her lip quiver. She looked up with watery eyes, and his heart crushed with the confirmation.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Calli gazed into the fire and shook her head. “I wanted it…” She sniffed and covered her quivering lips. “To be a dream. A bad dream.”

  Jayson slid along the edge of the bed next to her and pulled her near. Before he could say anything, the tears gushed out of her in torrents.

  Fool, he chastised himself. He should not have mentioned it so soon after she awoke.

  With her face pressed to his chest, he held her tight and rocked her. As much as he wished he could take away the pain, only time would heal those wounds.

  Calli pulled her arms out from between them to embrace him, her tears soaking through his shirt. He ignored the chill but wished he could take away the pain that brought them.

  “It was horrible!”

  “I know.” Jayson kissed the top of her head and laid his cheek against it. “I know,” he said more quietly.

  She calmed a little and he continued to soothe her beyond the end of her tears, refusing to let go and wishing she would stay in his arms. How long it would last once she heard the truth ate away at his soul.

  After what could have been half the night, she took a deep breath. “I saw my father.”

  Curious about the revelations of her ancestry, Jayson said nothing and listened to what she needed to say.

  “I miss him so much.” Still holding him tight, Calli turned her face to the side to speak clearly. “He said it was not my time to join him and told me to ‘Trust the Sh’lahmar’; whatever sense that sounds.”

  Jayson tensed. How could she have known? None of the others survived that he knew of, and he had been there. Only Darius remained of the elite guard, and he lived in the Second Realm. She had never met him, and Jayson would know. Where would she have heard the word, unless she truly had spoken with a spirit?

  She almost died. Could she have passed beyond, even briefly?

  After a long quiet, Calli pushed away and studied his face. “You…know something. You always know something.”

  He made no move to escape her touch when she brushed his loose black hair from his face, nor did he avoid her gaze.

  “I know that look.”

  Lusiradrol had awakened her clan. Keeping the wyverns asleep was the purpose of the Sh’lahmar. Although he wanted to tell Calli everything before they parted, now that he could, his tongue refused to cooperate. His failure in the end haunted him.

  “I know many things, most of all the Sh’lahmar,” he finally said. “I served them all my life.”

  Calli sat back, a mixture of surprise and betrayal clashing across her face.

  Before she could erupt into a temper as he feared she might, he enclosed her hands in his. “I was sworn to secrecy.”

  “Why break your oath now?”

  “The secret was those things that attacked you. The Sh’lahmar lived only to keep anyone from learning where they slept for thousands of years. Anyone who learned of it had to die. It was the only way to insure Lusiradrol would never know her clan lived.”

  “Lusiradrol?” She frowned, her brow furrowed in confusion.

  “Their leader. We failed. I…” He took a deep breath. “I led her to them when I returned.

  He dropped his eyes in shame. Visions of those who vanished because of him floated up from his memories. Friends who trained with him and those he trained were gone. “She knew I could use magic and followed me.”

  Jayson described the events from his memories, leaving out his feelings for her.

  Calli shook her head. “What is this—You knew of these beasts? You could not warn us?”

  “They slept under a spell. If even a hint that they lived had reached Lusiradrol—” He let out a deep breath and quieted his voice. “This would have happened sooner.”

  “You knew all this time?” Accusation snapped in her voice.

  He winced, unable to escape the truth. At least she knew his secret. Whether she trusted him afterwards he could not say. Based on her tone of voice, he doubted it.

  The flame of anger dwindled from her eyes. “Could this be the meaning of his words?”

  Hope shone through the clouds of distrust. Jayson sat up straighter, unaware until then that his posture hunched further and further under the emotional weight.

  “Without his words, I’d not know what to think, Jayson.” Her eyes spoke of betrayal, but her voice hinted of defeat.

  He squeezed her hands, relief calming his mind. Now came the hardest part. Though he could have said nothing, he wished no more secrets between them. She deserved to know.

  He took a deep breath to ease the tension building inside him. “Since you know this secret, I’ve better news, though that depends on your view. If you never wish to speak to me, I’ll understand.”

  She pulled one hand free to lay it upon his cheek with a faint smile. “I doubt that.”

  How he wished she would feel the same after he told her! Jayson grabbed her hand and held it firmly to steady his nerves and to keep her from running. His pulse throbbed in his temple and his mouth went dry. He had to say it, before his courage failed.

  “I know where Istaria is. And…I can take you there.” There. Now she knew.

  Calli gasped and drew back, but Jayson kept her hand in his. Her eyes dropped to the fire behind him, a distant look in them, but she made no more move to pull away.

  “Please, understand that, had I said anything prior, it would have led to explaining the Sh’lahmar.”

  He pulled her hand close, regaining her attention.

  “Calli, she is the reason Lusiradrol has awakened her clan. Istaria is the one chosen by the white dragon. Lusiradrol would do anything to destroy her.”

  “Why? What is this ‘white dragon’ and why would Lusiradrol want to harm her?”

  “She—Istaria—carries within her the power to unite all beings of magic and defeat Lusiradrol.”

  Calli scoffed. “The princess? You expect me to believe this?”

  She doubted him? Jayson arched an eyebrow, having nothing more to add after saying all she needed to hear.

  Her brow furrowed. “You speak the truth?”

  He nodded and lifted her hand to his lips to kiss the back, his insides twisted into a knot. She had stayed, not run. Now would come the hardest part—allowing her to digest the information he shared. What she would think of him for it, he dared not hope, but he would not pressure her.

  Calli watched him, the mixed emotions on her face smoothing into a sigh. “My head hurts, Jayson.”

  “Rest, my lady. We’ve a long journey ahead.”

  Not wanting to know what her reaction would be until everything sank in, Jayson stood and crossed creaky floor boards to the door. He would give her time to think.

  “I’ll see what provisions Llaeryn may supply.”

  With the door open a crack, he paused. Calli said nothing but gave a nod. He left the room, dreading what she might yet decide but with a lighter feeling to carry no more secrets.

  __________

  Damaera

  In the quiet of a cloudy day, snow fell in gentle flakes.

  Damaera stood upright beneath the imposing towers on either side of the front gates. The top of the wall rose higher than the towers of Setheadroc palace, while the guard towers reached beyond that. Her spirit shrank each time she came this way on her walks and she had to lift herself taller. The reddish orange stones stood out against the snowy backdrop, towering in their fortitude. Only the mountain arching around the city stood taller.

&nb
sp; Though no one patrolled the closed gates, Tahronen assured her that a warning would alert them should anyone attempt to enter.

  Though she knew not where the city was located, Damaera guessed it lied somewhere near the Northern Mountains, perhaps on the other side from the border of Cavatar. No travelers ever returned from their journey through the mountains, or so it was said. Tahronen had transported them to the front gates of Euramai, expediting their journey into a blink and keeping Damaera from seeing any landmarks that would have betrayed its location.

  What would have happened if the Lumathir had made the fully-enclosed city their home just a couple thousand years sooner?

  The city, home to tens of thousands in its glory, fell to ruin towards the end of the Siege of Elthnîel. To keep out the conniving, greedy Second Race of men, the First Race, now known as the Ancients, constructed the high wall. While it had held back all mortal forces, the Darklord vowed to destroy the magic-adept First Race. He sent his most horrible creations to attack the city of the Ancients. These abominations overran the city, killing every human they found.

  Damaera shuddered at the thought. Somewhere in the history of Euramai, The Second Race of men defeated those forces. No one knew where the enemy had retreated. The stories from that time recounted heroic deeds against the forces of the enemy, but no great victory.

  Hundreds of years later, after the tragedies, the city had been abandoned. The first Lumathir made it their home soon after. No others dared to return except the small group of women holding a candle against the darkness.

  Damaera turned away from the gates and followed her path back to the central gardens.

  She disliked seeing the closed gates, but it reassured her sense of security.

  The ruins of the city greeted her eyes, a light coating of snow defining the now leafless vines creeping up walls still standing and outlining rubble scattered amid stone streets. Graceful arches leapt from pillar to pillar, seamless architecture supporting over a dozen levels in the tallest buildings. Everywhere the art of a culture rich in amenities with an eye for the beauty of nature flourished.