Embers at Galdrilene

by Audra Trosper

  The familiar voice filled Emallya’s head and a strangled sob broke past her lips. Years of careful control shattered in that moment. Her heart felt as if it were breaking in two. How many years had she longed to hear that voice again?

  Through the haze of tears, she saw a young man pull the girl from water.

  Rylin began to sink back into the water. Emallya held out her hand. How could she stop her? How could she bear losing her again? “Please stay.”

  “Do not grieve. I am always here.”

  Rylin’s final words seemed to hang in the air for Emallya. As if from a great distance, a faint keening cry of sorrow echoed on the air and an answering farewell shimmered off the surface of the water as the dragon disappeared back into its depths.

  Silence settled over the lake, the water smooth as glass once more. Emallya stood, struggling to control the sorrow that threatened to overwhelm her. A tingle of pain washed through her body, a physical memory of the Separation. After several minutes she found the strength to push her emotions down and bury them deep where they could be dealt with later in private.

  Emallya took a shaky breath and wiped the tears off her cheeks. The Foundlings needed her. They would have questions. She sighed, seeking the strength to face questions she hadn’t expected to answer yet. Some she may not be able to answer. How did that girl pull Rylin from the lake? This had to be the one she kept feeling the threads of power from. This girl was the silver she sought. Emallya gathered herself together and moved to the Foundling who had displayed such amazing powers.

  The young man knelt on the beach, the girl in his arms. When Emallya approached, he looked at her with anguished eyes. “I cannot reach her. I can no longer feel her.”

  Emallya froze in the act of leaning down. “Can you usually feel her?”

  He looked down and brushed a strand of chestnut hair from the young woman’s face. “I don’t know how to explain it. I can feel if she is tired, or frightened, or…” He raised his eyes. “Just before…whatever happened, I felt terrible pain and I knew it was her pain. Now I am unable to feel her at all.”

  “Have you always been able to feel other people?” she asked, although her senses told her that his power ran a different course.

  “I’ve never felt anybody else. Just her.”

  Emallya looked at him for a long moment. She should have been prepared for this possibility, but she never heard of a mating bond forming before an egg hatched. Shock, surprise and elation flashed through her. A silver without a bondmate was vulnerable. This girl would have the necessary shield once she reached Galdrilene.

  She reached out and laid a hand on the girl’s forehead, delving into her mind just enough to ensure she wasn’t damaged from her folly. Emallya sighed and straightened. “Do not worry yourself unduly. What she has done requires more energy than a hundred battles. It was something she was unprepared for. Now she pays the price for her foolishness.”

  A worry line creased his brow. “Do you know how long she will be like this?”

  “A few hours, maybe more.”

  “How do you know all of this?” he asked.

  Memories made fresh by the appearance of Rylin’s spirit flashed through her mind. Desolation threatened to creep back in and she firmly shut the door on it. A sad smile touched her lips. “In due time. For now, let’s get her moved to my camp.”

  She stood and turned to the others watching nearby. “Vaddoc, please go get this man’s mount for him. Kirynn, go fetch that poor frightened horse over there,” she pointed to the little mare standing on the hill.

  As they moved to obey her, she turned back to the young man. “I am Emallya Lorant. How are you called?”

  “I am Mckale Mandarran.” He looked past her at the others as if he had just seen them.

  “And how is she called?”

  “She is Maleena Wyndam.”

  “Mckale, you have some serious wounds. Serena here will see to them.” Emallya beckoned the dark haired woman over before walking away to stand on the beach.

  Serena knelt next to Mckale. He watched in interest as she laid a hand on Maleena’s brow. Her blue eyes intense, she sat as still as the lake for a moment before pulling her hand away and flashing him a reassuring smile.

  “I’m Serena Cyen. Emallya’s right, you have several nasty wounds. This one on your arm in particular.”

  Mckale held the pain throbbing in his upper arm under tight control. The muscles didn’t seem to work quite right and he sent a brief prayer to the Fates that there wouldn’t be permanent damage. The pain in his back and his legs told him more than his arm suffered significant wounds. He ignored the smaller, shallow injuries. They would heal on their own in time. The woman, Serena, looked young to be a healer. How skilled was she in her craft?

  She laid her hands on him and again became very still. Heat spread through him. Warmth flowed through his veins, spread across his skin and seeped into his muscles. He felt it mending the injuries inflicted by the Kojen.

  The warmth left and she pulled her hands away. He flexed the arm, working the muscles around. It appeared as though the Fates had answered him. Only a thin, white line remained as evidence of the wound and he felt no pain in his arm or anywhere else. Mckale looked at her in amazement, ignoring the trickle of fear that threaded its way through his body. It made no sense to be afraid of the woman. After all he could use magic, as could Maleena. “I guess using magic is something you can do, too.”

  She shrugged. “We all can.” She pointed to each person in turn and gave their names then turned back to him. “We can do more formal introductions later, but at least for now you have our names.”

  He looked around and noticed the amber eyed Shaderian, Vaddoc she’d called him, returning with his horse. The flame-haired woman, Kirynn if he remembered right, stood with Maleena’s mare.

  Emallya turned away from the water and for a brief moment Mckale thought he saw tears glisten in her eyes, but she blinked and they were gone. A trick of the morning light perhaps. Her eyes rested on Maleena. “Let us get settled at the camp.”

  Mckale nodded and eased himself up. Taking the reins from Vaddoc, he swung into the saddle. “Can you hand her up to me?” he asked the amber eyed man.

  Vaddoc nodded and bent to lift the small woman. He carefully handed her up to Mckale who held her against him in the front of the saddle. The others began to walk back around the lake, Kirynn leading Maleena’s mare.

  At the camp Mckale settled Maleena into her sleeping roll while Kirynn set a fire. They sat in silence as Kellinar made tea and Serena put together a morning meal.

  Mckale watched a boy of about ten years pour the tea into small metal cups. Vaddoc offered him a cup. He accepted it with a nod of thanks and took a sip of the hot liquid. “Why does a child travel with you?”

  Kellinar looked over at Loki. “He travels with us because the Keepers of Trilene tried to capture him.” He gave Loki a mock scowl. “And because he was a sneaky little scamp who followed us so far before we knew he was there, we really couldn’t send him back. Not that we would’ve anyway.”

  Mckale looked around at them. “Only Serena has formally introduced herself. I am Mckale Mandarran. The woman I travel with is Maleena Wyndam.”

  After introductions were made, Vaddoc glanced at Mckale’s swords. “By your weapons you are a Border Guard.”

  Mckale stared at the cup in his hands. “I can no longer claim that title. I surrendered my Watch when I left my duties.”

  Serena rolled her eyes. “Did you or didn’t you do battle with the Kojen today?”

  Mckale looked at her in surprise. “Of course I did.”

  “Then you did not surrender this Watch of yours, you only changed the location of it,” she stated flatly.

  He opened his mouth to protest, but she continued before he could get a word out. “I understand you’re a Border Guard. Tell me where in your oath does it specify where you must Watch and where you must make your stand?”

  Vaddoc
frowned slightly. “It doesn’t.”

  “Well then, there you go.” Serena gave a sharp nod as if that settled it.

  Mckale stared at her, unable to find a way to refute her strange logic. Kirynn barked a short laugh. “She does have a point.”

  He glanced at Emallya who sat by herself some distance from them. “Who is this woman who leads you and why do you follow her?”

  Kellinar looked at the older woman and settled back, using his saddle as a back rest. “She offered to take us to a place where our magic will be welcome, although after today I begin to wonder where she takes us.” He scratched his ear and yawned. “As to who she is, who knows? Her name is Emallya. She seems to know a lot about everything, but won’t tell how she knows, and is more skilled with weapons than any of us have ever seen,” he paused and glanced at Kirynn, “and that’s saying something. Other than that, Emallya tells us little.”

  Vaddoc smiled. “She could best all of us at once I would wager.”

  “Are you trained in weaponry as well?” Mckale asked Serena.

  “I’m still learning,” Serena said. “Emallya and Vaddoc started teaching me then Kirynn joined us and she has helped, too.”

  Mckale raised an eyebrow at the Shaderian. “You are training a woman how to fight?”

  “What’s wrong with a lady fighting?” Loki asked from where he sat next to Kellinar.

  “Well nothing I suppose. It’s just not done along the border,” Mckale answered.

  Vaddoc chuckled. “Yes, I am training a woman to fight. I admit the idea of going into battle with a woman took me a bit to get used to. Once you get the chance to spar with Kirynn, you will change how you think about women fighting.”

  Kirynn looked at Vaddoc, a sparkle in her vibrant green eyes. “You never said anything about women not fighting.”

  He shrugged. “By the time we met, I had already spent more than a month in the company of Emallya. I really didn’t think about it anymore.”

  Mckale looked at his new companions, surprised he already felt a kinship with them. “How do you know I will get the chance to spar with any of you?”

  Kirynn laughed. “I have no doubt that you will be traveling with us. After your friend’s display and your lack of reaction to it, I can tell you travel for the same reason we do.”

  He looked at Maleena’s sleeping form for a moment before saying, “I didn’t see what she did. I was completely surrounded and unable to reach her. I could only feel her pain and her fear.” He looked back at the others. “What was that thing over the water? It looked like a–”

  “Like a dragon,” Emallya’s voice made them all turn. “A silver dragon to be exact. It seems the time is now right.”

  Emallya’s words brought a sudden, palpable tension. Mckale shifted uncomfortably. Dragons were evil and the magic that went with them was evil. Wasn’t it? If this was the kind of magic he could use, did it make him evil? Did it mean Maleena was evil? He shook his head. Maleena wasn’t evil and he didn’t believe himself to be either.

  “But,” Serena said, “dragons were black like the madness and evil powers they carried with them. And they are all gone anyway.”

  Emallya sat down, a weary expression on her face as if she carried a great weight inside. “Dragons are not necessarily black. Oh there are black dragons and yes, they do carry the evil that begot them in the first place. But there are also colored dragons and they are not evil in any way. Once, a very long time ago, there were no black dragons, only colored.”

  Kirynn paused in the act of taking a bite of her food. “I’ve never heard of colored dragons.”

  “So much has been lost since the War of Fire. So much history twisted and stories changed.” Emallya shook her head sadly.

  “What do you mean?” Serena asked.

  “The dragon you saw was my dragon, Rylin. She was killed just before the last battle of the War of Fire. The pain of losing her stays with me still.”

  They all looked at her as if she had lost her mind. Mckale’s breath caught and his mouth felt dry. If what she said was true…

  Serena shook her head. “But that would make you–”

  “Six hundred and sixty two years old,” Emallya finished for her.

  “How is that possible?” Serena whispered.

  “Dragons live a very long time. Their riders get the same longevity, along with other things, when they bond with a dragon.” Emallya sighed, sadness in her eyes. “Even if the dragon is killed, the rider still retains the gifts of the bond and so will have a long lifespan.”

  Silence hung over everyone for a long moment. Mckale thought back to his childhood when he and his friends would scare each other with tales of dragons and magic, always told on cold, dark evenings when the wind rattled the shutters and the howls of wolves rose in the air. Now, sitting here in the grass, a warm, spring breeze soft around him and the sun rising in a clear sky, he discussed real dragons and he could use magic.

  Loki broke the silence, “Yer really old, Emallya.”

  Quiet laughter ran around the camp, breaking some of the tension.

  Mckale cleared his throat. “So, if there used to be only colored dragons how did the black dragons come to be?”

  Emallya looked at him. “I will tell you both how there came to be black dragons and how this lake came to be, since one exists because of the other. They are almost two parts of the same story. It is a long story and a sad one.

  “Not everyone who is capable of magic will hear the Dragon Song. Those that did not still came to Galdrilene for training. They still needed to learn control and how to apply their magic in the best ways to help those around them.

  “Galdrilene was not only the home of the dragons and those bonded to them. It was also a great center of learning. For time beyond remembering, those called by the Dragon Song and those called by their magic worked to keep peace and to protect. Each dragon color is bound to an element of magic.

  “One young man by the name of Galdivan was called by only his magic. He envied the Dragon Riders and wanted desperately to bond with a dragon. But the Dragon Song cannot be forced; it comes only to those who are called.”

  She paused and looked around at them before continuing, “His jealousy grew in him like an evil seed although he hid it well from those around him. The dragons never liked him. I was told they were never able to give a sure answer why. Upon reflection it is easy enough to see.

  “Galdivan managed to steal two eggs from a newly laid clutch. Though they searched for him, he wasn’t found. He had secretly practiced many dark, forbidden arts. With that knowledge he hid himself and the eggs from the searching dragons. The theft of the eggs was no small feat; they are quite large and well protected. It is still not known how he managed it.

  “He used his dark skills on the eggs. He knew neither would ever call to him and would therefore never hatch for him. So he set about to change them and change them he did.”

  Deep sadness shadowed Emallya’s eyes. “When he was done the eggs were as black as night. Yet, they still would not hatch for him. He changed them so much they no longer sang the Dragon Song to their destined riders. It took him some time, but he finally figured out how to hatch them. The dragons in the eggs were only half in this world after he finished with them. He finally hatched one by allowing the young, twisted dragon to take half of his soul.

  “The dragon that hatched now carried the black color of his egg on his body. Only his underside showed the true color he had been meant to be. It ran from under his jaw to his belly and the underside of his tail in a sickly gold color. If gold could tarnish, that is how it would have looked.

  “The dragon, with half of its life force given to it by Galdivan, was more like a shadow of a dragon.” Anger chased the sadness in Emallya’s face and voice. “Incapable of free thought, it had none of the deep-set instinctive knowledge or moral code a normal dragon possesses. It was more like a tool mindlessly doing what its handler directed.

  “The next tragedy c
ame when he found a woman as twisted as he, who could also use magic. She gladly gave up half her soul and hatched the second egg. It was the birth of the Shadow Riders.”

  A sinking feeling settled into the pit of Mckale’s stomach. Some of the tales were true. In his mind, the hum crooned with a mixture of anger and sadness.

  Emallya continued, “The dragons and riders of Galdrilene felt something wrong in the world. ‘Like a chord struck wrong in the middle of a peaceful melody’ they said. But Galdivan was smart and continued to shield what he did. Far out in the Shadderack Desert, using every power he had, he hid and built his army. The Shadow Dragons mated and laid more black eggs. Galdivan turned his evil powers on the wild beasts known as the Kojen that roamed the desert. He twisted them as he had the eggs. They became mindless, killing machines that would not stop until they killed the target he pointed them at.”

  She glanced at the hill hiding the lake from view. “One day many years from the time the eggs were stolen, Galdivan brought his army against those who first trained him. A large group of riders and dragons from Galdrilene camped here next to this lake. Galdivan came upon them with his twisted Kojen and his Shadow Dragons. Outnumbered and caught by surprise, all of the dragons and riders camped here were killed. That is the battle this lake remembers. That was the beginning of the War of Fire.”

  Serena, her food forgotten in her hand, asked quietly, “Did your dragon die in that battle?”

  “No, the War of Fire had already raged for more than fifty years before Rylin called me. This is the history I learned from those who lived at the time and what Rylin showed me when she hatched.”

  Mckale shifted uneasily, his mind in chaos. Could there really have been good dragons? “How do we know any of this is true? We’ve been told all of our lives that people who use magic go insane. No offense meant, but how do we know you aren’t crazy from your magic?”

  Emallya looked him in the eye. “You have no way of knowing at this time. However, if you care to find out then continue to travel with me. The safe place I spoke of is the city of Galdrilene. Besides me, my bondmate and his dragon are the only riders to survive the last battle of the War of Fire. I invite you to see for yourself. You do not have to come of course. As I said, the Dragon Song cannot be forced. It must first be offered by the unhatched dragon and then it must be fully accepted by the one receiving it.”