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

by Philip C. Quaintrell

  There was only one person this could be.

  “I am Tauren son-of-none,” the young man announced with authority. His confidence faltered when his scrutinising gaze found Salim’s limp body over Bale’s saddle. The son-of-none made to inspect Salim but found his path suddenly blocked.

  Asher jumped down from Hector and faced the head of the owls. “We need shelter, Tauren son-of-none.” The ranger could see the alarm across the man’s face, unsure if he was standing before enemies. “I am Asher, a friend to your father.”

  “As are we all, laddy,” Doran added from atop his war-hog.

  Tauren was stunned, if his silence was anything to go by.

  Reyna approached from behind Asher, her melodic voice preceding her. “Salim needs somewhere to rest, especially before the midday sun finds us. Do you have shelter?”

  Tauren caught himself, instantly taken by Reyna’s beauty and calming nature. “Bring him this way. The House of Owls offers shelter to all in need of it.”

  Asher nodded his appreciation and released his grip on the broadsword within his cloak. His fingers had only sought the weapon when Reyna came between them, a new protective instinct that had apparently awoken within him. Thankfully, Tauren was proving an ally, as Asher would have been ready to cut the young man down had he posed a threat to the princess.

  25

  Sanctuary

  Gideon sat with his legs crossed by the edge of the shore, his eyes closed. The view across the central lake was often breathtaking, surrounded by the floating boulders and crowned with a magnificent waterfall, but it had proven a distraction for the young mage. He had to close the world off amid distractions, Adriel had said. If Gideon became lost in the flow of conversation between the dragons, it could spell his end if they were flying.

  “Focus…” Adriel was slowly circling the young man, his feet lightly crunching against the pebbles. “Know Ilargo’s voice as if it were your own.”

  Gideon could feel Ilargo’s presence, both physically and mentally. This connection had magnified over the last couple of days, as if the dragon was pressing upon him on purpose now. The mage could feel Ilargo’s scaly exterior against his skin, despite the fact that the green dragon was resting atop one of the lower, floating boulders. Their minds were reaching out into the void and merging as one, only this time Gideon was in control of the flow.

  Gideon…

  Ilargo’s voice was soothing and somehow familiar. Gideon had never known his parents, but he imagined hearing their voices would be similar. Ilargo felt like family, a bond that was only strengthened by their mental bleed. The dragon was delving into Gideon’s memories, creating the impression that he had been in the mage’s life since the beginning. Gideon wanted to push into Ilargo’s memories but he hesitated, thinking about his recent dreams.

  Look… You must look.

  Ilargo’s voice was filled with trust and confidence. Gideon felt his physical surroundings melt away, along with the sound of Adriel’s pacing. The mage saw the green dragon in his infancy, keeping close to Rainael, his mother. He saw Ilargo’s first flight, which amusingly ended with the dragon flying headfirst into one of the floating boulders. The first time he breathed fire was in his sleep, while dreaming. The dragon had woken up in a coughing fit and set the nearest tree ablaze. Gideon could feel himself smiling at the scene, as he watched Rainael breathe ice over the hot bark.

  A great sense of vertigo overtook Gideon’s senses when he looked at Rainael the emerald star. Her deep blue eyes drew him in and before he could stop himself, the mage was falling through the sky again. Beneath him was the same battle he had witnessed before,with an army of men on the ground and a swarm of dragons above. Gideon still didn’t recognise the banners or even the castle that fought off the dragons. What he could see was green crystals being erected along the walls on giant spears. The Crissalith turned the dragons away before they could inflict any damage to the stone.

  Gideon…

  Ilargo’s voice reversed Gideon’s fall and the battle blurred into darkness, until the mage was lying under a canopy of stars. Ilargo was there, standing regal against the backdrop of infinity. Soft grass was under them, but the horizon had no end, with only the stars for company.

  “Where are we?” he asked.

  There was no moon or sun, yet the two were easy to see, their silhouettes blocking out the stars as they moved.

  Ilargo looked down at him. This is our place. A place where dragon and Dragorn may dwell together, regardless of distance or constraint. This is a place where you and I will always meet.

  Gideon’s eyes welled with tears at the sound of Ilargo’s voice, every syllable resounding inside his mind as if it had come from his own thoughts.

  This kind of bond takes most Dragorn decades to master. Most elven Dragorn, that is…

  “I don’t understand.” Gideon was still trying to make sense of all the things he had seen. “I don’t… Has there ever been a human Dragorn? And what is that battle I keep seeing? Is it the Dragon War?”

  You have a lot of questions, but the answers will have to wait… I’m afraid what is about to happen next is going to be quite jarring.

  Before Gideon could ask his next question, the starry surroundings were ripped away with an explosion of sense and pain. The mage was suddenly back on the shore of the lake and falling flat against the pebbled ground. His face stung, specifically his right cheek. Adriel was standing over him in a threatening fashion. Gideon had a question on the edge of his lips when the ancient elf buried his leg in the mage’s ribs, sending him across the beach.

  The pain brought anger, and the anger had Gideon reaching for his staff. It wasn’t on his back. It was resting against a tree thirty-feet away, beyond Adriel, who was quickly advancing on him. The mage drew Abigail’s wand from the holster on his thigh and let fly a concussive spell, designed to knock the elf back. Adriel batted the attack away with a defensive spell of his own and countered with roundhouse kick, accurate enough to strike Gideon’s wrist, beneath his palm, and send the wand flying away.

  “What are you doing?” Gideon managed, just before the elf hammered him with fist, elbow and foot.

  Then the mage finally found his feet again and the world regained its sharper edges, Gideon located Adriel coming up behind him. The elf countered every backhand and punch, often following up with an attack that found one of the mage’s nerve clusters. Every blow was developed to inflict maximum pain.

  In moments, Gideon was once again on the ground, gasping in pain. “Why are you doing this?”

  “The Dragorn were the greatest warriors in the realm, even above the High Guardian and his most experienced fighters.” Adriel circled Gideon, a predator circling its prey. “You must learn the ways of the Mag’dereth. A martial arts known only to the Dragorn.”

  “You couldn’t have waited until after the meditation?” Gideon wiped some blood from his lip.

  “In time you will need to learn how to be there and here at the same time. Did Ilargo not warn you of my attack?”

  Adriel lunged again and set upon the mage with a flurry of exotic moves. Gideon was successful in blocking some, but the elf always found a way of using his defenses against him. The melee ended with Gideon on the ground again.

  The mage looked up at Ilargo, perched on the boulder. “He wasn’t entirely forthcoming,” he groaned.

  “You have seen Mournblade,” Adriel continued. “All Dragorn carried a sword, but seldom was it required. If our words failed to diffuse a situation, and our opponent was stupid enough to ignore the presence of a dragon, the art of Mag’dereth was enough to disarm or incapacitate them.”

  Gideon stood up and brushed the dirt off his leather jacket. The mage was only doing it to appear busy, however. Without warning, he launched himself at Adriel. His time in Korkanath had instructed him in many ways of fighting, though without his staff or wand, he was limited.

  “Stop.” Adriel held up his hand to halt the mage in his tracks. “I can se
e that some of the basics will need to be addressed.”

  “I know how to fight,” Gideon protested.

  “Not like this. Mag’dereth is about control, detachment. Every move is measured and deliberate.” The elf stood to the side, facing the lake, and fell into a series of slow movements. His arms and legs created shapes in the air and his robes swept about him.

  Gideon came alongside Adriel and began to copy his movements. All the while, Ilargo watched from above. He could feel the dragon’s gaze taking in everything the mage did with great interest.

  “You must continue to commune with Ilargo while you train. Your connection is the most important thing.”

  “Every time I connect with Ilargo, I see the same thing…”

  “You see the war,” Adriel replied without looking, always moving.

  “Yes. A great battle, with Rainael and Malliath… even Garganafan is there! Which doesn’t make sense; he was already dead when the Dragon War began, wasn’t he?”

  “Keep up.” Adriel insisted, noticing Gideon fall behind with the movements. “You’re seeing Rainael’s memories, passed on to Ilargo. You see now the weight that lies on your shoulders, on all Dragorn. You can see through the eyes the oldest beings in Verda. This gift will allow you to see into the past, to see things mortals and immortals were never meant to glimpse.”

  “But what war am I seeing?” Gideon quickly flung his jacket to the ground and fell back into his movements.

  “The First War.”

  Gideon dropped one of the movements in his confusion. “The First War? There has only ever been two wars worthy of history’s note; the Dark War and the Dragon War. I’ve never heard of any First War?”

  “The First War was never recorded, though I suspect if one was brave enough to enter The Wild Moores, you would find something relating to it. Your people have always been avid artists when it comes to history taking; cave drawings and the like...”

  “I don’t follow,” Gideon said. “The Wild Moores? In Illian? What do the Outlanders have to do with the First War?”

  “It is a piece of history that should only be told by one who was there. I think Ilargo’s memories will suffice.”

  Gideon looked up at Ilargo, his scales glittering in the falling light. The dragon’s long neck craned over the lip of the boulder and the mage could feel their connection becoming tangible. Before any exchange could take place, Rainael the emerald star glided down from the heavens and gracefully landed atop the same boulder, her wingspan easily larger than the rock’s width. Gideon wasn’t entirely privy to their conversation, but he got a single word from Ilargo and the feeling of excitement.

  Hunt!

  Mother and son took off from the boulder and flew high into the sky, until they were too small to see. Gideon felt deflated at Ilargo’s sudden departure and stopped his movements.

  “Never get in the way of a dragon’s hunt,” Adriel advised. “Your questions will have to wait.”

  “But Ilargo said that distance was not a concern when we were in our… place.” Gideon had no idea how to describe the starry paradise he and Ilargo had occupied.

  Now Adriel stopped as well. “You have formed a sanctuary? Interesting…” The elf mused over his thoughts for a moment before standing in front of him. “Again. You will know the movements until your muscles no longer require your mind to perform them.”

  By the time the moon rose and the lake became a mirror for the stars, Gideon was exhausted. He sat with his back to a rock and enjoyed the comfort of being able to rest his head. Galanör had made a modest fire and caught a pair of rabbits, which were currently cooking over the fire and making Gideon’s stomach rumble. Every muscle ached from the practised movements and the sparring in between. Adriel, who never grew tired, had kept the mage going all day, but in truth, Gideon was more aware of Ilargo’s absence. It created a void inside of him that hadn’t required filling until now.

  “So,” Galanör began as he stoked the flames, “has Adriel given you any idea what all this training is for?”

  Gideon didn’t even have the energy to frown. “To be a Dragorn of course.”

  “Yes, but why? Why have the responsibility of being a Dragorn if you do nothing with it but stay here… in paradise?” Galanör’s tone suggested he didn’t quite believe that last part. “Dragorn were the peacekeepers, not gardeners.”

  “Well from the sound of it, I’ll be dead before my training is complete anyway. So what does it matter?”

  “It matters because we finally have a way out!” Galanör had the expression of a man who had been wronged. “Adilandra is still our priority, is she not?”

  Gideon found the energy to lift his head and look at the elf. “Galanör… think about it. Even if she is still alive, our priority is to warn Illian. Darkakin invade from the south and your own people will invade from the east. Adilandra would tell you herself that the dragons are our only hope. We need to convince them that flying to Illian is -”

  “She sacrificed herself so we could escape!”

  “To find the dragons and stop all of Verda from falling into ruin!” Gideon could feel his appetite fading away as they fell into awkward silence.

  Galanör hung his head, his fair features cast in shadow. “I have to do something, Gideon. I have to save someone. All I’ve ever done is take life and fight and then fight some more. Rescuing Adilandra is the first thing I’ve ever thought to do that was right. She isn’t just the queen, she’s the ruler my people need. If the elves are left as they are, they will be nothing but killers for eternity…”

  Gideon caught a glimpse of a rogue tear running down Galanör’s cheek. How fate had toyed with the mage’s emotions, that he had gone from wishing the elf dead to wanting nothing more than to help him. Gideon wanted Galanör to have that opportunity at redemption and become the great elf that lay under all those centuries of misguided training.

  Adilandra’s potential captivity was also bearing down on the mage, and he desperately wanted to help her, but he wasn’t nearly trained enough to march up to Malliath and ask the black dragon if he felt like burning down Malaysai. Without Adriel’s blessing, they were stuck in Dragons’ Reach for the time being.

  “We will find the road we are meant to take, Galanör. Together, we will leave this place, find Adilandra and save the kingdoms of man and elf alike. But we must have patience, just for now...”

  Galanör had the hint of a smile in the corner of his mouth. “You’re already sounding like a Dragorn.”

  The two shared a laugh and ate together, until sleep found them both.

  Sleep never found Adilandra. After a day of slaughtering Darkakin gladiators in the baking sun, she had been fed and taken straight to the baths. The guards stood watching over her, while two female slaves went through the usual routine of scrubbing her so she could be presented to The Goddess. They had already pricked her with one of the darts before dragging her to the bath and another dose would be administered before the queen was deposited in The Goddess’ bed chambers.

  This was her only window of opportunity.

  There was no green crystal in the bathhouse, as the drugs always kept her docile enough, but the binding spell between herself and Ölli, Reyna’s owl, was deeper, instinctual magic that required very little effort. Relaxing into the warm waters and allowing the slaves to clean her gave her the state of mind to fall into the spell.

  It was dark and very warm where the owl was. Adilandra could sense that the animal was hunting and becoming frustrated with the lack of prey. A mental suggestion had Ölli return to his master and give up the hunt for now. Adilandra had to control her emotions, lest she give herself away to the guards, as the owl turned about to face a landmark the queen had not seen since she was a child.

  Reyna was at Syla’s Gate.

  The owl glided in, heading towards the scattered campfires and pyres. The princess welcomed Ölli to her side and gave him an affectionate stroke that Adilandra wished she could feel. The owl’s big bl
ack eyes settled on Reyna and her mother took her in, a sense of pride and fear mixing together in her gut. Her daughter had changed, that was clear to see. Where a naive and unsure girl had once been, was now replaced with a warrior, filled with confidence and serenity.

  Reyna was sitting next to Nathaniel, the knight that had accompanied her since arriving in Illian. Adilandra could find no fault in the man and considered her daughter to be an excellent judge of character, but her gaze was stuck on her daughter. Her fine clothes had been replaced with tough leathers and her belt adorned with an elven scimitar and daggers. Adilandra knew those weapons had come from Faylen, her most trusted friend.

  More than anything, Adilandra wanted to embrace her daughter and hear all about her adventures and the incredible feats she achieved in her absence. But the gods demanded more of her than the responsibilities she held as queen or a mother. The Echoes of Fate could not be denied. The time of their fall was coming and the elf could feel it in her bones. It was this faith that kept her strong in the dark. A faith that would not let her give up yet. She would continue to go through the motions of fighting in the arena and sleeping with whichever Darkakin was required of her to survive the night.

  In the end they would all die, she would see to that.

  For now Adilandra just wanted to enjoy the sight of her daughter before the drugs took complete hold of her. She could already feel the link with Ölli slipping away and her sense of self becoming numb. The drugs left her susceptible to persuasion, no matter the command and its consequences.

  The rage she let free upon The Goddess previously had now been forged into a quiet fury, as if the sun itself had settled in her chest. Adilandra refused to give into what her husband called their natural instincts, but the righteous anger that had built up inside of her would never leave her, not until The Goddess and all of Malaysai was ash.

  Soon, she thought. She believed in Gideon and Galanör and their ability to find the dragons. After they had saved Illian and the dragons brought an end to Valanis’ machinations, they would surely return to Ayda’s south and rid the land of the Darkakin once and for all. In truth, that future felt a long way away, but before it could overwhelm Adilandra, the drugs finally kicked in and she lost the ability to care about anything.