Empire of Dirt: (Echoes of Fate: Book 2)

by Philip C. Quaintrell

  “Watch out!” Gideon warned, shoving Galanör aside.

  The two dived in opposite directions, narrowly avoiding another torrent of fire expelled from Galandavax’s burning throat. The flames eviscerated at least ten of the Darkakin and injured many more. Galanör was back on his feet in a blur of motion, with smoke rising off his burnt cloak. Through the fiery haze, the mage caught sight of the giant lizard that Ilargo had picked up. The hulking creature tumbled out of the sky and flattened a distant group of Darkakin, who had been readying their spears to attack Rainael.

  Perhaps it was the heat that made Gideon think of something cold, but the first spell he unleashed upon the nearest Darkakin froze him mid-run, until his limbs shattered from the momentum. Galanör was already leaping over moats of fire and running into the fray, eager to take his frustration out on the Darkakin. Gideon moved to join him, watching as the elf’s swords shone in the desert sun before they cut through the violent savages.

  A giant lizard ran in front of the mage in a desperate attempt to flee the soaring dragons, who continued to drop out of the sky, talons first. In the wake of the fleeing beast, two Darkakin appeared, as if from nowhere, with their serrated blades and spiked clubs swinging at Gideon. The young mage deftly swatted the attacks aside with his staff and countered with a swift hit and a concussive spell. The chaos of the fire, smoke and clouds of sand had Gideon instinctively running to Galanör’s side, leaving the Darkakin to roll about the ground in semi-consciousness.

  Somehow, without looking, Gideon became aware that Ilargo had landed behind him and finished the two savages off. The mage was sure he could taste their blood in his mouth and actually feel the dragon’s talons sink into their flesh. He scrunched his eyes tight and shook the feeling off.

  As Galandavax glided overhead, Adriel slipped off his neck and dropped to the ground from a bone-breaking height. The elf however, tucked into a roll and came up without so much as a scratch. The ancient Dragorn was soon at Galanör’s side, though he used no weapon to beat back the attacking Darkakin. Using a form of hand-to-hand combat Gideon had never seen before, Adriel twisted their arms and legs, breaking bones and crushing nerve clusters with the tips of his fingers. The elf could wield an open palm as well as a closed one and deliver just as much damage, if not more. Gideon also noticed that the elf never took a life on his journey to Galanör’s side.

  The young mage forced himself to concentrate on his immediate surroundings. Chaos continued to rule their environment, with the dragons dropping out of the sky and raining fire down upon the Darkakin. The sounds of screams and clashing steel mixed with the yelps of giant lizards and roaring dragons. Gideon added to the clamour and unleashed devastating spells in a bid to keep the scouting party from overwhelming them.

  Through the fumes and smoke, Gideon caught sight of one particular Darkakin in the distance. He was running for one of the few remaining lizards in the centre of the fray, ignoring the dragons and the elves.

  Gideon immediately felt as if something was wrong.

  The Darkakin pulled free a spear from the lizard’s saddle and tore the black canvas from the weapon’s head. A jagged piece of green crystal adorned the end of the spear, fastened to the wood with leather straps.

  Everything stopped.

  The sound of the fire and screams disappeared, along with the roar of the dragons. Gideon felt panic rising inside him and knew the feeling originated from Ilargo, not himself. The Darkakin marched into the middle of the chaos and planted the spear into the ground so that the Crissalith pointed to the sky. Adriel’s cry was piercing as they watched all three dragons fall from the ocean of blue sky. It was a strange sight to see creatures who flew with such finesse, drop out of the sky with no more grace than a lifeless rock.

  Rainael reached out with all four of her claws and managed to ensnare Ilargo, shielding him before their combined bulk hammered the desert. The younger, green dragon rolled out of his mother’s embrace and lay limp under the relentless sun.

  Everyone had to run from Galandavax’s mighty girth.

  The ebony dragon had been flying at a higher altitude and hit the ground in front of the scouts. His thick scales kicked up plumes of sand and broken rock as he skidded towards them with considerable speed.

  Adriel performed an exceptional feat of magical strength and pushed both of his arms out towards Galandavax. The dragon’s momentum gradually slowed down, but not before he buried three Darkakin, who had been too slow to get out of the way. Gideon looked at Adriel with awe, wondering if he would ever be able to muster the magical strength to stop a fully grown dragon with his staff.

  Rainael stirred to the left of the group, catching Gideon’s eye. His stomach dropped. In all the chaos, they had taken their eyes off the Darkakin wielding the Crissalith. The savage was now standing over Ilargo with the jagged crystal aimed to plunge into the dragon’s chest. Both dragons appeared disorientated and looked to be in pain, groaning and struggling to find their footing. They were powerless in the presence of the crystal.

  Gideon levelled his staff at the Darkakin, but he was too slow; the savage warrior thrust the spear of anti-magic down at the dragon, but Ilargo found the last of his strength and lifted his front leg, taking the impalement there in place of his heart.

  Gideon released his explosive spell and sent the Darkakin careening into the distance. The mage barely noticed the savage’s death however, when his arm erupted in burning pain, forcing him to let go of his staff and drop to his knees in agony. Pulling the leather sleeve back on his left arm, he stared in disbelief at the elongated hole in his forearm; warm blood streaked down his elbow and soaked his shirt.

  Galanör skidded to Gideon’s side and joined him on his knees. The elf gripped both ends of the mage’s forearm and examined the wound intently, while Adriel ran by them to reach Ilargo. As the dragon cried out in pain, so too did Gideon. He could feel the healing magic that Galanör was already pouring into him, but the wound refused to knit back together.

  “I don’t understand…” Galanör stated exasperated.

  “Your magic will not work as it should in the presence of the Crissalith.” Adriel was trying to navigate Ilargo’s thrashing. In one fluid movement, the ancient elf put one foot on the dragon’s leg and pulled the spear clean from the wound.

  Again, Ilargo and Gideon cried out in unison. Galanör looked upon the green crystal with cautious reverence, as Adriel jogged over to the nearest lizard and tied the spear to its saddle. A quick slap to the hide sent the giant beast running back into The Flat Wastes.

  Rainael was the first to recover and find her feet, so that she could once again tower over the bipeds. Galandavax stood up and shook his massive head as if he were trying to correct his vision, while his impressive wing-span flexed into the air, ridding him of the sand.

  “Ilargo…” Gideon ignored Galanör’s attempts at nursing and ran over to the green dragon with his arm cradled close to his chest.

  Ilargo remained on his back and allowed Adriel to examine the wound. The elf turned the thick leg this way and that, but the mage didn’t know what he was looking for. Perhaps Adriel was acquainted with dragon physiology?

  “I can’t see any traces of the Crissalith inside,” Adriel stated.

  The elf looked from the wound to Rainael and stepped away from Ilargo as his mother dipped her regal head. The breath that she exhaled appeared wavy, like that of the desert heat on the horizon, only this breath was profound in its purpose. The bone healed first, followed by vessels and then strands of muscle and tendon covered it from sight. The skin knitted back together and two dull, green scales grew into place, standing out next to Ilargo’s shiny and gold-speckled armour.

  “Your arm…” Galanör lifted Gideon’s injured arm and marvelled at the new skin and obvious lack of a wound.

  Once again, everyone was staring at Gideon. The mage quickly covered his arm and tried to look anywhere but at Adriel, whose inquisitive gaze felt piercing. Galandavax gave a short
roar and dipped his head to look upon Gideon more closely. The ebony dragon looked at Adriel and snorted a jet of warm air over the group. What conversation had taken place between them remained a mystery.

  “Most curious…” Adriel whispered. “But we must return to Dragons’ Reach. This scouting party won’t be reporting anything; we’ll send out some patrols into the outlying areas around The Red Mountains tonight. We will discuss this further in the safety of the Reach.” Adriel looked at Ilargo with concerned eyes. “It would be better if Ilargo flew home unencumbered. Rainael has offered to take you.”

  Gideon didn’t know at what point the queen of the dragons had made such an offer, but it was preferable to walking through the desert. The mighty green dragon took two strides towards them and stood as still as a statue.

  “How do we..?” Gideon wasn’t sure how to climb onto her back since Rainael refused to dip.

  Adriel smiled. “Rainael the emerald star is the queen of dragon-kind. You do not get to sit on her back.”

  Before either man or elf could protest, the magnificent dragon took off from the ground, picking both of them up between her claws.

  It wasn’t long after they returned to the safety of Dragons’ Reach that Adriel caught up with them by the lake, in the centre of the crater. Ilargo walked tentatively by the edge of the water, testing the strength in his healed leg, while Galandavax ascended one of the floating boulders and relaxed, allowing his long tail to hang over the lip. Rainael stood proud before Gideon and Galanör, making it clear that they weren’t to stray until Adriel had finished speaking to them.

  “Is this the first time you have shared an injury with Ilargo?” Adriel asked pointedly.

  Gideon hesitated under the questioning. “No. I hurt my leg when Malliath fought with him. But it healed within a day.”

  “What else have you shared?” Adriel asked.

  Gideon looked to Galanör for support, but the elf appeared just as interested in the answer as Adriel.

  “I’ve heard, I think I’ve heard some… thoughts?” Gideon turned his statement into a question as he felt completely out of his depth.

  “Anything else?” Adriel continued.

  Gideon thought of the pull he had felt to Mournblade, but he wasn’t sure how it could be connected to the strange events of today. His expression betrayed him however, and Adriel could see that there was something else.

  “I’ve never used a sword in battle but…” Gideon wasn’t sure how to explain it. “But I am drawn to Mournblade more and more.”

  Adriel glanced at Rainael for just a moment. “Have you tried to pull it from the stone?” the elf asked, casually.

  “Yes, but nothing happened.”

  Adriel looked away and slowly paced the shoreline, his expression unreadable. A light breeze blew his blond hair and robes out behind him, carrying a sweet scent to Gideon’s nose. The elf turned on his heel and met Rainael’s vibrant blue eyes as if she had spoken to him.

  Adriel asked, “When Malliath was on Korkanath, did you ever experience such connections?”

  Gideon thought about it for a moment. “No. Never. I would remember something like this. The first time I heard Ilargo I thought I was going to pass out.”

  Again, Adriel and Rainael locked eyes and a moment of silence passed between them. Without warning, the green dragon bowed her head until her mouth was only a foot away from Gideon’s face. He could smell the blood and flesh of the giant lizards she had torn apart in the desert, and he changed his breathing to use only his mouth.

  “Stay very still…” Adriel warned, sounding alarm bells in Gideon’s head.

  Rainael inhaled a deep breath, so deep that Gideon feared his skin would be pulled from his face. The dragon exhaled softly and returned to her regal posture without incident.

  “There’s no elf blood in you,” Adriel explained. “If there was any elf in your ancestry, Rainael would know.”

  “Wait. Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” Galanör stepped forward, scrutinising Gideon with new eyes.

  Gideon took in every detail of Adriel’s silent reply and still couldn’t read his expression. Galanör on the other hand appeared to have got stuck somewhere between shock and awe.

  “What?” Gideon pleaded.

  “You’re…” Galanör couldn’t find the words. “You’re a…”

  “Dragorn, Gideon,” Adriel said softly. “You are the first human Dragorn.”

  Gideon’s mouth attempted to ask a thousand questions at once, but instead he mustered only stunned silence. Ilargo walked through the shallows and came to stand by his mother on the bank, his beautiful eyes fixed on Gideon.

  “I’m not an elf,” he finally managed. “Only elves can be Dragorn.”

  “Only elves have ever been Dragorn,” Adriel replied with the hint of a smile. “There is an important difference.”

  “Wait,” Galanör held up his hands, “the first human Ilargo ever meets and he happens to be a Dragorn? I don’t believe it.”

  “You are not required to believe it,” Adriel said in his usual calm voice. “It is very likely that many humans would qualify to become Dragorn, given the chance. They scuppered that opportunity themselves, however, when Gal Tion went to war with the dragons.” The elf looked over the mage as if examining his essence. “Gideon is a relatively empathic person, making him susceptible to a dragon’s form of communication, and he’s a mage – a magical being by human standards.”

  Gideon was completely bemused. “I’m a…”

  Dragorn!

  The familiar voice rang clear in his mind and he knew instantly that it was Ilargo. Once again, the presence inside his mind threatened to rob him of consciousness. Galanör quickly caught him by the arm and steadied him with strong hands.

  “Easy,” Adriel bade, closing the gap between them in a second. “Much training is required to master even the basics of being a Dragorn.”

  The elves took Gideon by the arms and helped him to a nearby log, where the mage was convinced he was going to sick.

  “Can you train a human?” Galanör asked skeptically.

  “It has never been done before.” Adriel stood back from Gideon, taking him in. “But that doesn’t mean it cannot be done.”

  It took Gideon a minute to realise the area around the lake and the floating boulders had suddenly filled with dragons of every colour and description. They were all looking at him. What began in the back of his mind as a collection of whispers quickly grew into a chorus of new voices that filled every space in his head, until he could no longer think of a single word himself. The edges of his vision blurred and soon turned to elliptic shadows, masking the details of the world.

  “Ilargo..!” Adriel’s cry was distant despite his close proximity.

  Gideon felt the world gently slip away under the weight of so many voices and memories, which were not his own, pressing into his mind. Another moment and there was only darkness.

  20

  Ever Southward

  Nathaniel stared in wonder at the Centaurs as they prepared the companions’ horses for their journey. The older Centaurs combed their manes and sang soft melodies to them, while the younger, smaller, Centaurs combed their coats. The saddles and various belongings were adjusted to make it as comfortable as possible for the horses. Indeed, they had paid more attention to their rides than the humans.

  The same could not be said of their attention to the elves.

  The Centaurs had practically worshipped Reyna and Faylen during their time in the camp. The young knight couldn’t blame them either; the elves were certainly captivating. As if their knowledge and wisdom wasn’t fascinating enough, their very presence held a magical aura.

  With everyone prepared and ready to travel, the group waited at the edge of the camp with all eyes on Faylen’s hut. Asher emerged first, looking as fierce as ever with his new double-handed sword adorning his belt; combined with the short swords on his back and the Arakesh bow attached to his quiver, Nathaniel was th
ankful to be the ranger’s ally and not his enemy. Asher held the leather strips aside to allow Faylen to walk out into the sunshine, closely followed by Reyna and the much taller Xastus.

  Nathaniel ran a critical eye over Faylen and was elated to see that she’d recovered well. The care, as well as the medicinal herbs, from the Centaurs had brought the elf back from a sleep from which the knight had feared she might never wake. Asher’s proximity to Faylen didn’t go unnoticed either, as well as the concern on his usually expressionless face.

  Faylen turned to Xastus and the gathering Centaurs. “Thank you for your hospitality. Without your healing I would not be standing before you.” The elf took Xastus’ hands in her own and squeezed affectionately.

  “It has been an honour to receive the El’shenae,” Xastus replied warmly. “My ancestors passed down the stories of your great race, and the fruitful times you brought to the Moonlit Plains. We only hope that the El’shenae will return for good.”

  Oh they’re returning alright, Nathaniel thought sarcastically.

  “We have sent word to the other tribes,” Xastus continued. “You will have no trouble on your journey to The Arid Lands.”

  “You have the eternal gratitude of the El’shenae,” Faylen bowed her head, “but it will not be necessary. I have one crystal left with enough power inside to reach Karath.”

  Asher stepped into her view with the same concern etched across his scarred face as Reyna. “Are you mad?”

  “You have only just recovered from the first portal,” Reyna added with a softer tone.