The Dragon Soul (Vagrant Souls Book 2)

by Samuel E. Green

  "Bradir!" Alfric called, the rift only a handspan wide.

  Bradir charged, but the armored elf spun aside. He slashed Bradir with the spear, an arc of blood spraying the dirt.

  Alfric gritted his teeth and concentrated on widening the rift. In the clamor of battle, it was much harder than before. More quarrels pounded the ground around him, and it was just the gods’ fortune that prevented any of them from meeting their marks. Thankfully, he must have been situated far enough away from the city walls that the marksman couldn't aim correctly.

  With a final groan, Alfric separated the air into a portal wide enough to step through. Rather than leap into it as they had done before, Alfric peered inside. It was a cave illuminated by glowing plants like the ones in Dragir. He could see no dragons, nor was there any indication that this was the Cave of the Sunless.

  Nevertheless, they had no choice.

  Alfric looked to Cyne and Bradir. Cyne was on the elf's back, tearing at his chest with her claws. Bradir held the warded shield in both hands and jumped. He soared through the air and slammed the shield's edge onto the elf's head. The shield split the elf's skull in two. Bradir tore the shield away.

  "Quickly," Alfric said, feeling the life drain from him. "I can't keep the rift open for much longer."

  "This one lead to the right place?" Bradir said as he passed.

  "I hope so," Alfric whispered as he followed the others through the rift.

  30

  Jaruman

  Jaruman dismounted Stardrux. The ridges along her back provided a better journey than expected, but not by much. With the wind doing its best to pull Jaruman from the dragon, he had burned lifesoul constantly to avoid falling. He could barely stand after expending so much energy.

  "We will find your daughter," Stardrux said, "but first we must obtain permission to enter Eosorheim from Hurn. Do not mention the girl to him. Better that he not learn she has the dragon soul."

  Jaruman caught a whiff of honey and whirled around. A robed figure crossed the bridge separating Aernheim and Eosorheim. Elk antlers rose from his head. They were no costume. This man, who had to be Hurn, was a creature formed by magic. He had the slender stature of an elf, but from the otherworldly hue to his dark eyes, he'd ceased being merely elven long go.

  "Greetings, Stardrux," Hurn said. "It has been some time since your shadow has darkened Eosorheim."

  Stardrux roared, fluttering the silver hair between Hurn's antlers. "And you are as slimy as ever," a girl's voice said. "Don't worry, Madukai. Hurn cannot hear me."

  Hurn looked at Jaruman and smiled from the corner of his mouth. "You have not been called by Sulith, neither do you use wards or draw blood. Yet you wield Sulith's power. Are you Madukai?"

  "Aye," Jaruman said, eying the sorcerer with caution.

  "How peculiar. The Madukai are normally . . . shorter."

  "They took me into their fold," Jaruman said.

  "You must tell me your story, but first, come into my forest. I will provide you food and rest."

  Jaruman did need the rest, and he wouldn't mind something to eat. When Stardrux broached no disagreement, Jaruman followed Hurn across the bridge and into the forest. Hurn asked Jaruman how he'd come to train with the Madukai. Normally, such questions wouldn't be answered, but Jaruman had his own questions he wished to ask of the sorcerer, so he obliged.

  "I made my home in Indham," Jaruman finished. "I forsook the way of the spear for the way of the leaf. The shattering of Aern's orb forced me to take up the spear once more." He made a point of meeting Hurn's eyes.

  "We all make sacrifices for the greater good."

  "Were you responsible?"

  "Yes," Hurn said with a smile.

  Startled by Hurn's honesty, Jaruman burned lifesoul. His muscles expanded with power, but exhaustion allowed for only a small amount. Hurn either didn't notice or didn't care that Jaruman was now armed with magical strength.

  Jaruman allowed the magic to deplete. "Was it vengeance that made you do it? Because of Indham's dragon trade?"

  "I provided the dragons who did not enter Dragir with refuge, but I never saw them as my own. Please, sit." Hurn indicated a tree stump fashioned into a chair.

  Jaruman sat, facing a pond reflecting the moonlight. Noises came from beyond the pool. He allowed his senses to expand and focused on where the sounds were coming from. Skinwalkers, trapped inside a circle of wards.

  Rage flowed out from Jaruman. "What is this cleansing nonsense? You killed a Guardian! And you call yourself a servant of Eosor?"

  "I am Eosor's chosen, yet I serve all the gods. You are a warrior, not a scholar. You know nothing of the complex history of the carcaern orbs."

  "I know that I watched the people of Mundos suffer twenty years ago. I saw that same suffering in Indham. The blood of thousands stains your hands, sorcerer."

  "What are thousands of human lives compared to the incarceration of a god?" Hurn said with a shrug.

  Had Hurn not been capable of killing Jaruman with a single incantation, he would have broken the man's neck, tore the antlers from his head, and cast them into the pool.

  The trees above Hurn rustled, and an owl flew out from it. It dropped a rabbit at Hurn's feet and then perched atop Hurn's forearm.

  "This is for you," Hurn said to Jaruman. "I will permit you a small fire to cook it. I don't suppose you share the skinwalkers' taste for uncooked meat?"

  Jaruman peered back at the skinwalkers roaming inside the warded circle.

  "I don't expect you to understand why I shattered the orbs." Hurn said as he stood. "You might be Madukai, but you are still human." Hurn spoke with pity, as though he intended no offense by the comment. He peered up at Stardrux. "You cannot feed on anything living here. I normally do not permit dragons to enter Grimwald anymore."

  Stardrux screeched and curled up beside the pond. She flicked her tail into it, disturbing the water.

  "The Mad One has told you stories, hasn't she?"

  The mad dragon snorted. "He thinks himself wise because he's old, but there are some things even more ancient than him."

  "Has she told you about the dragon soul?" Hurn tilted his head. "She has? Stardrux, it is not like you to reveal such secrets."

  Stardrux snorted.

  "The dragon soul is in Dragir with my sister," Hurn said.

  Jaruman tried to hide his surprise. If Elmyra had the dragon soul, then Fryda might be dead. He refused to believe that.

  "I have sent others there to retrieve it," Hurn continued. "Skinwalkers, in fact. One named Alfric leads them."

  Alfric was in Dragir, too. So Fryda might finally find him, but what would she encounter? A man, or a monster? "How can you command skinwalkers?"

  "I do not command them. Through Eosor's fortune, their spirits remain within their bodies, yet they possess the wraith's powers. They can smell a person from a mile away, dividing the scents so that few things can be masked. Their eyes see with a sharpness unparalleled by mortal creatures. And their strength? They are capable of leaping twenty paces high and forty long in a single bound. They have already killed the Great Leafspear who guards Dragir's gate. Climbing the mountain and infiltrating the Cave of the Sunless will be far more difficult." He frowned and stared westward, as though he were able to see them now. Concern wrinkled his face.

  "Why have you not accompanied them to Dragir?" All Jaruman could see when he looked at Hurn was a coward. He had sent Alfric into Dragir when he would not go himself. "Surely they will fail against Elmyra's power."

  "It is true that their success is not guaranteed. Yet I cannot enter Dragir. To do so would mean turning an hour glass that cannot be undone."

  Jaruman didn't want to antagonize Hurn into bringing about this so-called cleansing, but the sorcerer’s duplicity aggravated him. Maybe that wouldn't be such a bad thing. Maybe forcing Hurn to leave Grimwald might bring about a battle—that would make entering Dragir easier.

  "If you truly believed in this cleansing, you would get the drago
n soul yourself. Your ideals mean nothing if you're not willing to give your life for them."

  Hurn narrowed his eyes. "You speak flippantly for one who stands before the presence of a sorcerer older than the ground you stand upon."

  "I speak, and act, in ways faithful to my beliefs. That is the way of the Madukai. To do anything else is to be a fraud."

  Hurn sneered, and walked backward until he vanished into the trees.

  Stardrux opened a single eye. "You should not have convinced Hurn to leave Grimwald. If Hurn gets the dragon soul, he'll be capable of shattering all the orbs."

  "And that would begin the God Wars anew," Jaruman said to himself, realizing why Hurn's cleansing would mean doom for the world. "And what of Elmyra? Why not allow her to keep the dragon soul?"

  "Because the atrocities committed at her hands are second only to the God Wars. She will use Madrem's orb to counter her imprisonment. Hordes of soldiers and dragons will enter every city with a traveling pylon. The First Empire will be born again."

  "Then they both must be stopped," Jaruman said, though he didn't know how he could stop either of them.

  "If we get the dragon soul, I can take it somewhere safe."

  Dragir would be dangerous, especially now that he'd incited a war. He'd gladly go there to find Fryda, and maybe even Alfric, but to face two sorcerers with immense power? It might mean saving the world, but he was just a Madukai. One who'd taken the way of the leaf.

  "How soon can we leave?" he said.

  "There is power in madness." Stardrux chuckled and her eyes rolled. A rift opened in front of Jaruman, a whirlpool of swirling colors. It sucked in everything around it—the rabbit carcass, fallen leaves, and stones. A sucking sound filled Jaruman's ears, and he was pulled into the rift. He spun around and around until he was thrown to his feet at the other side.

  Jaruman emptied his stomach on the dirt. He much preferred flying to whatever that was.

  "What was that?" he said as he wiped his mouth.

  "A rift," Stardrux said. "Not a particularly good one at that. At least we're here and now, and not there and then. The last one I opened didn't perform as planned."

  Jaruman looked around him. They were no longer in a forest. A walled city lay across an open field, and beyond that stood a great mountain. He could only assume it was Mount Dragir.

  "What happened to the last person who went through one of your rifts?"

  "I'd rather not talk about it," she said, turning away.

  "No more rifts." Jaruman groaned as he stood.

  "I only did it because I had to," she said in a high-pitched squeak.

  "Just promise me we won't be doing that again."

  Stardrux grinned. "Your daughter is likely within the Cave of the Sunless. Thankfully, the Great Leafspear no longer guards the gates. We will have to dodge the barbed quarrels, but that shouldn't be too difficult." She laughed, a booming sound that made Jaruman clutch his ears. "Sorry," she said. "Let's go find your daughter."

  Unable to argue with that, Jaruman climbed Stardrux's side and sat between the hard ridges of her back. With a running start, she unfolded her wings and they took to the air, flying toward Mount Dragir.

  31

  Fryda

  Fryda stood on a stone cliff at the bottom of an expansive chamber next to an empty pedestal. Dragons might have been long accustomed to the ever-present darkness, but Fryda's human eyes could only make out a shining cliff directly in front of her, a dozen feet across the open air. A lantern burned above her, hanging from a hook and giving off so little light that she had to look twice to ensure it was lit properly.

  Tursn stood behind her, having escorted her from her chambers to this shaft. He had refused to speak, even after she'd said what had happened to Naeth.

  A chorus of beating wings and rushing wind flooded the cave. Soon, a hundred pairs of glowing orbs flooded the darkness. The dragons had arrived for the audience with the Witch Queen.

  There was a sound of rustling scales, like a thousand serpents writhing above her. Still, all Fryda could see was the glowing cliff in front of her and hundreds of golden dragon eyes.

  The Witch Queen flew onto the podium beside Fryda, and the cavern burst with light. Plants on every cliff illuminated and every creature inside the cave prostrated themselves. Dragon heads, wyvern heads, and draken heads pressed against stone. Fryda remained standing until a command inside her head forced her to the ground.

  Her forehead touched ancient wards on the stone floor. The books she'd read in Enlil's Temple had depicted these same wards. The ward circles around Tyme's Hill, though she'd never ventured there, were identical.

  As Fryda stood, she looked at an empty pedestal. Golden prongs reached from its top, as though something had once rested within them. Could this have once been a Guardian's altar?

  "Before the sealing begins," Elmyra said, "I wish to know from whom you stole the dragon soul. You are no mage, and you possess no other gifts, so I doubt it was you who entered the reliquary."

  "No one stole it. A dragon gave it to a friend of mine. One larger than any even here. With bright red scales." As Fryda spoke, she scanned the crowd of dragons. There were no other dragons like the one Alfric had described.

  "Do not lie to me, human." The Witch Queen pursed her lips in thought. "Yet the Mad One came to our gates six summers ago speaking of a boy who wore the dragon soul. Of course, we refused her entry. She is the most grating creature the gods have ever infused with life. Nevertheless, I assumed her tale a lie, concocted so that she might enter Dragir."

  The queen's words were confirmation that the dragon who had given Alfric the dragon soul was the same one Fryda had seen inside the enclosure.

  "I'm telling the truth," Fryda said. "The Mad One gave it to Alfric."

  "Your emotions tell me that you believe this to be true, yet you are mistaken. The Mad One cannot enter the reliquary."

  "Then how did I get the dragon soul?"

  "It is most certainly the dragon soul," the Witch Queen said, holding the pendant above her head as she stared at it. It seemed to draw in every fraction of light from the room, its center glowing like a tiny sun. The jewel appeared different from when Alfric had owned it, as though a magic within it had been activated. "This contains the very essence of Madrem, god of dragons."

  The dragons chittered loudly, their scales flickering.

  "Unlike Hurn, I think the gods should be used as tools, not worshipped or set free." She spat those last few words as though they were the vilest poison. "Yes, I've heard of his foolish plans, even from Dragir. I am not so insular as to ignore what happens in his lands. I watch him in his forest, plotting all manner of things with Eosor, the most detestable of gods."

  The queen was clearly insane. Fryda didn't want to spend another moment in Dragir at the mercy of a madwoman's whims. Yet the queen couldn't complete the sealing. Fryda considered snatching the dragon soul out from the queen's hands, but doubted she'd get there in time. And what would she do with it when she had it? Leap from the cliff into the darkness below? She would be swept up by Elmyra or any one of the dragons. There was nothing Fryda could do except hope that somehow she might be given an opportunity.

  "You have the dragon soul now," Fryda said. "Please, let me go."

  The queen placed the dragon soul inside the pedestal's golden prongs. "Now, we will return Madrem to her rightful place." She yelled in elven and a horde of drakens marched onto the cliff so that there was barely room to stand.

  "Do you know how the First Priest and his cohorts sealed the carcaern orbs to their altars?" she said.

  Fryda shook her head, trying in earnest to think of a way to stop the queen.

  Elmyra laughed. "Bring in the wyvern!"

  Carried along the great crowd of drakens was Naeth. Her wings were tied to her sides and her feet bound. A hundred hands brought her to the front of the crowd.

  Elmyra addressed the dragons in the elven tongue.

  Fryda turned to Tursn while th
e queen was speaking. "She's your sister. You can't let her come to harm."

  "My place is in Dragir. Naeth wished to ruin that. I will not allow her crimes to taint all the forest wyverns. She will give her wings to the sealing and so cleanse the forest wyverns of their past sin and allow all our people to enter Dragir once more."

  Fryda could only watch as the drakens, controlled by the Witch Queen, took Naeth's wings and tore them away. All the while, Naeth's screams resounded throughout the cavern. The drakens tossed the wings into the chasm. Naeth whimpered, a strange sound from something so majestic as a wyvern.

  "Return the wyvern to her cell," the queen commanded.

  The drakens hurled Naeth back to the chambers' exit, blood spilling from her severed wings.

  Elmyra nodded to the first in the line of drakens. "Jump." Her golden necklace beamed.

  The entire front row of drakens stepped over the cliff. They didn't scream as they fell. A dull series of echoes reached Fryda's ears. Elmyra's cackling reached a crescendo as the second and third rows stepped over the cliff's edge to their deaths.

  "Why are you doing this? You are a draken! They are your people!"

  The queen's eyes darkened, and she seemed to grow taller, leering over Fryda. Suddenly she smiled and peered down the cliff. "A human's lifesoul is worth so little compared to a draken's, yet it's fitting that one of your kind should participate in the sealing."

  An elf burst into the chamber. "My Queen," she said between breaths. "The Great Leafspear has been slain."

  Elmyra blanched, and then her face became a deep red. She whirled on Fryda. "This was your doing! You have infiltrated Dragir and brought more of your kind."

  The dragons in the chambers screeched as one. Elmyra turned her head, and a cave dragon larger than any of the other dragons present landed on the cliff. Drakens, still entranced by Elmyra's commands, were crunched beneath the cave dragon's feet. Fryda realized that this was the same dragon who had been in the enclosure—the Mad One. Atop her back was Jaruman.