A Trail of Embers

by C A Kinnee

  Kieran staggered up, freeing his bow and fetching an arrow. He released the arrow before he was on his feet. It flew from the string swift and sure. Fierce satisfaction shot through him. The arrow stopped. It dropped to the ground as if an invisible hand had reached out and batted it aside. The Mage stepped towards them.

  The First slid in front of Kieran and raised his hands. Kieran’s skin burned from the crackle of energy flowing from Alion’s fingers.

  “Kieran, go. Find Orlan. The swarm must be stopped. Do not come back. This ends here. It has been much too long in coming,” the First said. He glanced down at Kieran and then back at the Mage. He looked hotly satisfied at the chance to finally face his enemy.

  “Kieran!” The desperation in Orlan’s call sent Kieran to his knees. His hands lifted, holding his head as pain surged through the link.

  “Go,” Alion commanded. His eyes were fixed on the Mage.

  Kieran rolled away from the power pulsing between the men. The energy rippled over his skin, crawling beneath its surface and leaving a trail of fire behind.

  “Kieran, to me,” Orlan called again. “There are too many. I can’t fight them alone.”

  Kieran took an obedient step and stopped. He couldn’t leave the First. Someone had to guard his back. No. the First’s order was to go. Orlan needed him. They had trained together since they first held a spear. One right handed, one left—they fought as one, doubling the deadliness of an attack.

  He cast a despairing look at the First, but to the two men, he no longer existed. He lifted his bow and ran in answer to his brother’s call. It would be as it had always been. The twin link meant they would protect each other’s back, even unto death. Later he could think of Meara. For now, he had to help the living.

  “Alion, once again, you are too late,” the Mage taunted.

  The First growled under the weight of his pain.

  The Mage tossed back his hood exposing the hard planes of his face. His amber eyes glowed and his lips tilted in a mocking smile. “How sad. First you failed her all those years ago, now you’ve failed her daughter. You didn’t know about her, did you? I must admit, I didn’t realize she existed until I came upon her in the walled town.”

  “You are right, Jakhon. I failed to believe that you could sink so deeply into evil that you would kill your own sister. Had I realized the depths to which you’d plunged, I would have made Danika face reason, even if I had to lock her away. She loved you.”

  “Love,” Jahkon scoffed, carefully changing position. He didn’t take his eyes off of Alion.

  The First continued speaking. His words were barely audible over the noise of the battle and the scream of the wind. “Can you sleep at night? Or has evil so encompassed you that you no longer feel anything?” A thread of pain ran beneath the anger in his voice.

  Their eyes locked. Their hatred was a physical presence, crackling between them, charging the air with the force of its energy. The ancient enemies were night and day, one tall and dark, the other so blonde that he appeared to glow. Fury swirled over them—a living entity—dark and malignant. Neither seemed aware of the desperate battle raging around them. They were locked in a deeper battle, one of the mind and soul.

  “Think of all the time you’ve missed, Alion,” the Mage taunted.

  The energy conjured by the wizards was a magnet drawing the storm clouds, powering a new frenzy of lightning. Flashes of light leapt around them. The wind tore at their robes, snatching up the fabric and whipping it behind them like ships’ sails caught in a gale. Electricity crackled over their heads. It tossed their hair about their faces, lifting it so that it floated in clouds of black and white.

  The Mage struck. Thunder boomed as his ball of fire flashed, rocketing towards the First. Alion stepped aside. The flaming ball flared and fizzled. He brushed the sparks from his chest.

  “Is that the best you can do, Jakhon—fireballs and thunderclaps? Even young Kieran can manage that.”

  The Mage’s face contorted. He answered Alion’s taunt with an attack that twisted the sky into purple clouds. The power of his magic jumped from his hands shaking the world with a violent explosion. The ground trembled. Standing trees shattered. A wave of blue energy spread in a circle, spiraling back on itself, leaving broken, bleeding men behind. The magic flared and shifted. It warped into a rush of flames that flew greedily forward, devouring everything in its path. The fire gorged on everything metal, hopping from sword to sword, leaving an ashy black residue in place of gleaming steel.

  A deep cobalt glow fired the mist. Those closest to it screamed in agony. Some lay down their swords and ran. Others pressed the advantage the battle of the wizards offered.

  At the edge of the cliffs, Kieran fought on. Orlan’s call had driven him into a fight for his life. Blood trickled from a cut on his forehead, mixing with his sweat, leaving a glassy red film floating in front of his eyes. He blinked and lost ground to the armed man before him.

  Desperate, he feinted left, slashing wildly. The Miandrogas fell back yelling indecipherable words to his comrade. Kieran waited, wishing he could swat the hair back from his eyes. A blaze of blue light yanked his gaze from the man in front of him. Sparks jumped from his blade. His hand tingled. The man before him seized on his momentary lapse of attention. This time the Miandrogas charged straight for him. Another fighter Kieran hadn’t spotted, attacked to the left, Kieran’s weaker side. Working together, knives and spears jabbing and slashing, the men drove Kieran towards the cliff edge.

  Kieran’s arms shook under the weight of holding off his attackers. The ground was rough and uneven, riddled with holes plowed by the restless feet of cattle. He stumbled. Off balance, he fell to one knee, rolled and threw himself sideways as the nearest man lunged. The point of a spear slashed past Kieran’s nose, cutting the air with a buzzing whirr. He jumped to his feet and raised his arm blocking a vicious strike. The other man fell back, waiting.

  The Miandrogas on his left pushed past his partner. He charged forward, his long knife extended like a javelin. Up on his toes, Kieran gathered his muscles, ready to move. The Miandrogas pulled an arm back and drove the spear forward. Kieran dropped and rolled, kicking out with his foot, catching his attacker in the groin. The other man exhaled a whoosh of air, doubled over and collapsed to the ground.

  Kieran jumped to his feet, his eyes fixed on the remaining fighter. Ebony eyes stared back at him. The man smiled. His teeth were straight and white.

  “We go? Yes?” the man said, gesturing with the sword he had drawn from the scabbard on his back.

  Kieran tilted his head slightly, ready to parry the next attack.

  The Miandrogas fighter pressed his hand to his lips and released a shrill whistle. It was answered by a staccato series of whoops.

  “Now we go,” the Miandrogas said and laughed.

  Kieran struck first. Lifting his sword, he sprang, forcing the other man back. To survive, Kieran had to keep his attackers in front of him. To do that, he needed to keep his back to the cliff. Already his attacker’s companions were rushing towards him. Kieran hit hard. His long knife broke through the other man’s guard. The Miandrogas screamed as the tip of Kieran’s blade slashed past his guard. Grunting under the weight of the knife thrust, Kieran dodged back, leaping over the body of the fallen fighter. The wind howled past him, tangling his hair over his eyes, blinding him. He whipped his head back, clearing his vision.

  The battle raged around him. The din filled his ears and echoed in his head. He heard the pounding of the waves crashing against the jagged rocks at the base of the cliff. The water foamed and boiled beneath the snarls of an angry sea. He was dangerously close to the precipice. Eons of erosion had left the ground loose and broken. One wrong step and he would plummet to the base of the cliff. He jumped forward, trying to find solid footing.

  The twang of arrows fired close at hand shredded his concentration. His eyes jerked from the fight. Two Miandrogas collapsed in boneless heaps. The man closest to Kieran spun t
o see what had befallen his companions.

  “Hold, young master.” The shout rose above the noise of the battle. Metreo emerged from the smoke.

  “Kieran, hold on.” Orlan’s shout rang in his head and his ears.

  Metreo’s crossbow spoke again. Kieran’s adversary dropped and rolled onto his back. His open eyes stared sightlessly at the sky.

  The saturated ground broke. Kieran scrambled back from the edge, clawing at the dirt, desperate to find a grip.

  “Hold on!” Orlan shouted again running towards him.

  Kieran’s fingers closed over a lifeless root. He reached higher, catching hold of a fistful of vine trailing over the face of the rock. The muscles in his shoulders screamed under the full weight of his dangling body. Slowly, he moved one hand up the vine, pulling himself upward, hanging over the crashing waves. Three more inches—he let go with one hand and reached higher with the other, clamping his fingers around the root, gaining precious inches. Almost there. Sweat poured down his face. Another hand up. The root moved.

  “No, no, no,” Kieran gasped and stretched to reach higher.

  The root tore further from the cliff wall. Kieran swung from its end and crashed against the rock wall. He twisted, trying to catch hold of a tangle of roots hanging over his head. The shift in weight pulled the root away from its anchor in the rock. Kieran’s weight was too much for it. The root snapped. He plunged towards the sea.

  Wind buffeted his cloak, whipping it over him. The sound of crashing waves merged with the scream of wind and pounding of rain. Calm smoothed the edges of his terror. He had done what he had set out to do. With luck, the First would defeat the Mage. He closed his eyes.

  The tug on his hair hurt. He opened his eyes and shut them in terror. The sight of the dragon overhead cemented the blood in his veins. Shakala’s wings churned the air, buffeting Kieran with its heavy backdraft. Bludgeoned by the thumping gusts, he waited for her talons to close over him. His fall slowed. Steel bands wrapped around his chest.

  “Open your eyes, Protector,” the egg trilled.

  “This is the Protector of the Bonded?”

  Hearing the dragon speak, Kieran wished for a quick plunge to the rocks. Hearing her speak and understanding the words made this nightmare worse than death.

  “The choice is made. No more will be said of it.” Shakala sounded resigned. “We shall return the egg to my nest. I will not meddle in the wars of man. I will settle with the Mage at a later date.” Her wings slowed and she began a slow turn northward.

  Kieran swallowed. It appeared he had no say in the dragon’s plan.

  Her silver wings slowed as Shakala soared upward on a current of air.

  “The bonded one believes we must return to the battle,” Shakala said and sighed. “She seeks answers to her questions.”

  “Kieran, I am here.”

  Kieran craned his neck upward, trying to see past the dragon’s shining wings. Meara leaned out over the Shakala’s back in a way Kieran considered highly risky.

  A surge of joy raced through him.

  “I saw you fall,” he shouted over the rush of the wind.

  “Eir called the dragon. She caught us. Are you, all right?”

  “Eir? Is that the egg’s name? Do you think that the dragon could put me down?” Kieran’s stomach had started a series of flip-flops in time with the pendulum swing of the flight. Any moment, he would puke its contents over the wavering scenery below.

  Meara disappeared. The ground approached at dizzying speed. Kieran closed his eyes. The dragon was going to miscalculate the landing. He would be smashed to pieces on the rocks below. He was . . . the rush slowed. Cautiously he opened his eyes. Billowing smoke covered the plateau, rising from flames that clawed the tall trees. All around him, he heard the screams of men and the clash of swords. They were back at the edge of the cliff.

  Chapter 44

  Danger—be wary.

  Wait—watch!

  In the darkness

  pay heed.

  Translated from the Chronicles of the Egg

  The Dragon’s Pommel soared above the Liodon Sea, a flat mesa of land surrounded by jagged rocks that cut the tides and churned the water to white foam. Woe betide any captain who risked sailing so near the dragon’s lair. A better way to the lair was found in the trails weaving through the ancient forest. Until now, no one ever breached those trails—the wards had held strong.

  Now the flat swath of land seethed with the fury of fighting men. Their forms flowed in and out of sight gobbled up by the mist and smoke writhing over the land. Metal clanged on metal. Screams and curses bludgeoned Meara’s ears. It was like the scene on the plains where the once great city of Confluence had stood. Like when Rahdon’s magic woke the ancient evil and the army of specters formed. Meara hunched lower between the dragon’s wings. Her hands shook as she struggled for a tighter grip on the scaled neck.

  She couldn’t pull her eyes from the battle. Warriors spilled from the mist the way the wraiths had evolved on the plains of Confluence, only these men were all too real. The ragged swarm of the Mage outnumbered the scattered men of Helligon. They pressed their attack, banging fists against leather breastplates. The drum-like thumping pounded in her ears. Her stomach lurched. The men of the First slammed into the line of attackers. Overrun, they battled grimly fighting to push back the Mage’s men.

  The scream of the dragon rose over the battlefield. Her massive wings battered the smoke, fanning the fires left by her earlier rampage. As she hovered over the battle, her cries mixed with those of man. The sound drew all eyes. The sword blows faltered.

  The Mage’s men dropped back, freeing their bows and launching arrow after arrow at the dragon. The people of Helligon staggered away from the Mages men. Even in their exhaustion their training brought them back together in loosely formed battle cells.

  “Regroup, regroup,” the call passed from one battered group to the other as the First’s fighters sheathed their swords and stumbled for the woods. They vanished, dissolving into the trees. They would not break the agreement of Makeion by attacking the dragon.

  The hard-muscled hide of the dragon tensed beneath Meara. Shakala’s silver wings slapped the air as she circled her landing spot. Meara ducked lower, terrified the rain of deadly arrows would strike Kieran.

  “Do not be afraid. Their puny arrows cannot penetrate my armor.”

  “That is fine for you, but we have no such protection. Those arrows would fill Kieran and I so full of holes, you could use us as sieves.”

  Shakala flexed her neck. Meara felt her take a breath. Her roar shook the forest. Fame blasted from her mouth, igniting the stunted trees at the edge of the cliff like candlewicks.

  The mage’s men dropped their weapons and ran screaming warnings.

  Gently, Shakala released Kieran onto the rocky ground. She touched down beside him and bent her neck so that Meara could scramble off her back. Legs shaking, Meara stumbled to Kieran, flinging her arms around him, hugging him tightly as the egg squeaked in protest.

  “Kieran, you’re all right. I thought Shakala would drop you or that the arrows would fill you full of holes.”

  She felt Kieran tense beneath her grip. A hot blush stained her cheeks. What must he think of her? She let go of him and started to step back. He held onto her arms.

  “I thought you were dead.” His eyes roamed over her, checking for injuries. “I thought . . .” He grabbed her in a tight hug.

  Meara returned it, not wanting the moment to end. There was something in Kieran’s eyes that made her heart beat faster and a warm glow spread through her.

  The dragon cocked her head to the side and studied the humans.

  “It is done. With the hatch of my egg, I will return. For now, you must look after each other.” She paused and raised her head as she looked towards the forest. The scarlet banding at her neck glowed fiery red. Her yellow eyes narrowed, the pupils became long slits of black. Shakala stretched her wings and snapped them shut again. S
lowly, she inhaled, absorbing whatever scent the wind carried.

  “The swarm returns. The Mage’s power has banished their fear. They think to carry their attack and take my egg.” Her eyes gleamed. She opened her wings and reared back on her hind legs.

  Kieran eased a knife from the scabbard at his hip. He pulled Meara nearer.

  She resisted. Raking her curls away from her eyes, she set her feet firmly and waited. Kieran had to understand she could protect herself. Heart hammering, she watched the shadowy army of the Mage take shape.

  The Mage’s men gathered at the edge of the trees. Raising their swords and bows they prepared to face the dragon. Battle cries echoed from a thousand throats. The sound shook the trees. The wave of men charged over the rocky ground. Shakala shrieked and extended her wings, stretching her body to full height.

  The men on the front line staggered to a standstill. Their inertia blocked the men behind. Shakala roared in anger. A stream of fire blackened the trees and grass in the swarm’s path. The swarm bubbled like a cauldron, leaking a steady stream of ragged men racing for the protection of the trees. Shakala gently clasped the egg in her talons and lifted into the air. She followed the fleeing men, casting a rain of fire over them.

  Kieran turned to Meara. His face split in a broad grin that slowly changed to puzzlement. “What’s that?” he asked.

  She stared blankly at the flickering ball of blue flame she cupped in her hands. The ball fizzled and went out. She glared at Kieran as though it was his fault.

  “You weren’t going to protect us with that, were you?” His skeptical laugh sputtered out like the flame.

  “Do not laugh. I can protect us.” A fresh ball of fire sparked to life, this one a deeper blue, flaring more brightly.

  “I wasn’t laughing. It’s just . . . I—”

  The ground shuddered. Kieran grabbed Meara’s arm as a blast of fire and wind rocked the world. The violent shaking tossed them like pebbles in the hand of a child. Cracks fractured the wet earth, dissolving the ground. Kieran rolled, placing his body over Meara’s, protecting her from the rain of dirt and rock. Blue fire arced across the discarded weapons of the dead and wounded.