by Mike Shelton
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“I should go with you, Bak,” Breelyn argued.
“Miriel isn’t ready to carry you yet.”
“Abylar could take both of us.” Breelyn folded her arms across her chest.
Bakari wasn’t really comfortable arguing with a woman, especially one that was almost twice his age, but he knew what he needed to do. “Look, Breelyn, you and Miriel need to go back to Lor’l and see the king and the prince. You owe that to them.”
“But I am a dragon rider now, not a protector of Elvyn.”
Bakari sucked in a deep breath and then pushed it out again. “They need to hear that from you, Breelyn. There will be plenty of time to fight before this battle is over, I am sure. I need to find the other riders, but I am going to Corwan first. We will meet up later.”
Abylar was flying back now with Miriel and reported through their bond the intense fighting in Corwan. He had seen no fighting in Orr or even Cassian for now, though Abylar did say both cities showed signs that they were building up for war.
Bakari sensed a force, pulling him toward Corwan. It was time for him to do something to help Alaris. He was a dragon rider, after all!
Alair put his hand on Breelyn’s arm. “Dragon Rider Bakari is right, Breelyn. You need to follow his directions.”
Breelyn held her mouth tight for a moment. Her green eyes flashed at the two of them. “Fine, I will do as you say, Dragon Master.”
Bakari spread his hands to his sides. “Breelyn, don’t call me that. I am still Bak.”
The two dragons appeared overhead once again, and Bakari, Breelyn, and Alair all gazed up into the sky. When they looked back at each other again, Breelyn had a large smile plastered on her face.
“This is a lot to take in. I just want to do what is right and protect the land. Sorry about the outburst.” She hit Bakari softly in the shoulder and then reached her hand up to touch his hair. “You’re all right, Bak, but this hair of yours is getting shaggy.”
Bakari laughed. “I’m growing it out. The men of Mahli wear their hair in braids.”
Alair raised his eyebrows and cocked his head at Bakari.
“We could braid yours, too, Alair.” Breelyn put her hand up to touch her guard’s hair. “It’s long enough.”
With a laugh, Alair pushed her hand away.
They walked over to where the two dragons were landing. But the bond between Bakari and Abylar wavered for a moment, and Bakari stumbled.
Breelyn caught him from falling. “You all right?”
“Yes,” Bakari said. “The bond with Abylar is a little strange today. Every few hours, there seems to be a strange loss in his power.”
“Maybe he’s just tired,” Breelyn said. “He is still young.”
Bakari walked closer to Abylar and put his hand up to his side, running it lovingly over the growing scales. “But he eats like a pig.”
I heard that, Dragon Rider. Abylar turned his neck to look at his rider.
I know, Bakari said through their bond. I let you hear it.
I don’t eat like a pig, young Dragon Rider, but I like to eat pigs.
Bakari shared what his dragon had said, and Breelyn and Alair laughed.
I could eat one now, but I am too tired to hunt, Abylar spoke again.
Too tired? Bakari grew concerned. I’ve never known you to be too tired to eat before, Abylar. Maybe you flew too far last night…but I need you to fly me to Corwan. Can you do that?
Anything for you, Dragon Rider. Abylar seemed to perk up.
Breelyn stood next to her dragon, rubbing Miriel’s bright yellow head. Her snout held a touch of orange that matched the tips of some of her scales. She seemed to grow even brighter in the bright autumn sun.
“I will await you in Lor’l, Bakari,” Breelyn said. “You are correct: I need to let the king know what is happening. He needs to send troops to Silla and the border, in case Alaris attacks again.”
Abylar knelt down for Bakari to mount up. “I will see you in Lor’l—or sooner, if I finish up in Corwan. We still have more dragon riders to find.” He checked his bag. It was full of wooden discs. He might yet use some in the upcoming battle.
Flapping his wings, Abylar almost knocked over the two elves. Soon they flew up above the treetops, the late morning sun just slightly south of directly overhead. Bakari breathed in, then let out a whoop. Flying still amazed him every time. Everything seemed so small, but marvelous from up above. He watched the Dunn River, winding its way from north to south, and even saw the Corwan River, moving southwest, toward Cassian, before it curved back to Corwan, where they were now going.
Without any warning, Abylar suddenly dropped, and Bakari almost fell out of his seat. Holding on tightly to a nearby scale, in which a tethered strip of leather was held, he was barely staying on.
“Abylar!” Bakari yelled out loud.
It hurts, Abylar moaned. Then the mighty dragon leveled out and continued flying, although more slowly now. Another loss of energy.
Hold on. It won’t take us long to get there. Bakari pushed his dragon. You can do it, Abylar. You’re strong.
We’re strong together, Dragon Rider.
Bakari tried to figure out what was happening. He hoped it wasn’t what his initial thoughts had told him. Then a thought made his stomach sour: Abylar’s strength may still be tied to the guardians’ strength. If something bad was happening to them, Bakari would be tempted to turn around and fly north—back to Celestar. But he was closer to Corwan now, and they needed him first. He could feel the pull more strongly, the closer they came.
Soon they left the forest behind. Now, the only color threading its way through the brown sands was from the two rivers, which were coming closer together. Off in the distance, Bakari could make out the town of Corwan. He had never been there before. It was the second largest desert city, after Orr.
But being on the convergence of the two rivers had made Corwan a busy fishing and trading town. It might even grow bigger than Orr, now that the barrier had come down. A haze of light smoke hung over the city, indicative of an earlier fire, though Bakari could not see any flames at the moment.
As they came closer, he made out groups of soldiers fighting below. Some were at the gates of the city, and others seemed to have landed in boats, and they now pushed deliberately through the town. Bakari thought about how best to help them. As a scholar wizard, he had never found much need for military training, but he did know tactics from books he had read.
He reached to the side and unlatched his bag. Abylar dipped down lower. Hopefully, just the sight of a dragon would be enough to scare Kanzar’s men back.
Flying over the road that led from the North to the gates of the city, Abylar roared. A group of soldiers glanced up into the sky and then almost fell over themselves trying to get out of the way.
As they got closer to the city, the shouting grew more intense. None of these people had ever seen a dragon, and probably very few had even heard there was one in existence now. Bakari noticed the looks from the soldiers on the walls. They too were afraid, too.
A barrage of arrows and wizards’ fire were being hurled at the walls from the outside. The gate was half fallen, but men from the city stood defiantly to defend it. Over toward the river, Bakari spotted a contingent of red-haired men fighting together. One saw him, and soon the cry of “Dragon Rider” filled the air.
Bakari smiled. They had realized who he was.
A wizard near the wall hurled a blast of fire up at Bakari. It didn’t make it up far enough, but it alarmed him nevertheless. He drew out one of his wooden discs. He had practiced a lot. So he drew a deep breath, concentrating, and hurled the disc forehand, down at the enemy wizard. The disc hit him squarely in the chest and knocked him to the ground. Cheers rose from the city walls as the soldiers inside realized the dragon wasn’t there to hurt them.
Bakari threw another disc, down at an attacking soldier that was trying to knock down the gate. Bakari hit the man on the ba
ck of the head, and he fell forward. The dragon and its rider gave renewed enthusiasm to the city’s soldiers.
Abylar flew back up, over the city, and roared loudly again. Off to the west, not far away, Bakari spotted rising dust high in the sky. Flying Abylar closer, Bakari saw a full battalion of soldiers on the road between Orr and Corwan. He landed Abylar in front of them. They immediately drew their swords and awaited word from their commanders.
Then a man walked out in front of the battalion.
“I am Bakari, a dragon rider, and friend of the Chief Judge,” Bakari said.
The men relaxed, and then the man out front spoke. “I am Azeem, southern judge. We were summoned back to Corwan by Battle Wizard Allison Stenos.”
“Is Alli in Corwan?”
Azeem nodded his head in the affirmative. “How goes the battle there?” He was a big man with the skin color indicative of the southern desert people. And Bakari had heard the Chief Judge mention Azeem before as a good and fair judge.
“I just arrived,” Bakari said. “They are being attacked at the gates and at the river. The city is holding, but just barely. I don’t dare get too close with my dragon’s fire, or we might hurt the wrong people.”
“Give us three hours, and we will be there.” Azeem motioned his people to pick up their pace.
Bakari waved, and Abylar lifted back into the sky, the edges of his spikes on his blue body reflecting an orange tint in the bright sunlight. Turning back toward Corwan, they arrived to find intense fighting in about one-third of the city. They flew overhead and spotted a dense pack of Kanzar’s men, approaching around a corner.
So they flew low, and Abylar breathed out a roar of fire. Blue and yellow flames flew toward the ground, halting the men from advancing. They turned to go another way, but Abylar spit out another breath of flames on their other side. With Kanzar’s men now trapped, soon the city’s soldiers arrived and disarmed them.
“Bakari!” a voice called through the afternoon air. Glancing around, Bakari noticed a small figure standing on top of the tallest building in the city.
“Alli,” he said out loud and then flew down toward her. He landed Abylar on an enormous rooftop patio, hoping the structure would hold the dragon’s weight. Its rock floor groaned but seemed to hold.
The young battle wizard ran up and gave Bakari a hug. “Thank you for coming,” Alli said.
“Azeem’s battalion is only three hours away,” he informed her.
“With you and them, we can end this battle,” Alli said seriously.
Out onto the balcony walked Mericus, dressed immaculately in dark fighting gear, black boots, and a red cape. Looking at the dragon, his eyes grew wide. But he seemed to be enough of a politician to maintain his decorum in any circumstance.
“Mericus, this is Bakari,” Alli said. “He is a dragon rider and is here to help us.”
Mericus gave a short bow. “I think I remember you from River Bend. You were the Chief Judge’s scholar wizard that everyone was looking for.”
Bakari’s face grew hard. Then he said, “And, the last time I saw you—or rather heard you—you took down a man, your mercenary captain, I believe, with little thought. You and Onius were planning your treachery.” He dropped down from Abylar’s back and walked toward the man, drawing himself up as tall as he could, which was still a good five inches shorter than Mericus.
The judge’s jaw dropped, and he looked to be trying to gather his words, but he couldn’t find what to say.
“I heard you and Onius talking,” Bakari continued, “about a king and about making sure Roland, Alli, and I didn’t get in the way of your plans.” Bakari stood with his fists clenched. He knew that the dragon standing behind him added weight to his words.
Alli turned to Mericus with a glare and pulled her sword from her scabbard.
Mericus held his hands up in front of him. “If you had listened to the entire conversation, you would know that Onius didn’t like Kanzar’s plan and that he tried to convince me to move against our High Wizard.”
Before he could say anything more, they heard a loud crashing sound from the front of the city. The three moved over to the edge of the roof and peered out across Corwan. The front gate had been breached, and the enemy—with Alana, Kanzar’s wife, leading them—rushed through the gates, slicing right and left as they pushed their way in.
Alli and Mericus turned, as if waiting for direction from Bakari. He wasn’t used to being looked at as a leader. He knew his power and rank had as much to do with the dragon he rode as with anything he did personally.
“We can sort out my past follies later, Dragon Rider,” Mericus said with a glance back toward the gate. “Suffice it to say, I am as much opposed to Kanzar now as you are.”
Bakari nodded. “Very well, then. Let’s end this fight before anyone else gets hurt. Azeem will be here soon. Mericus, go and shore up the men coming in from the river. Alli and I will handle the front gates.”
They both nodded. And, as Bakari jumped back on Abylar, the two other wizards headed down the stairs and into the city. Before they got too far away, Bakari called to them, “Who are the red-headed ones?”
“Elves,” Alli replied. “From Mallek. Mericus brokered a deal with them.”
Bakari’s eyes opened wider in surprise. He did not expect elves to act independently from their king, who would not jump into a fight without long consideration and counsel first.
“Well, I’m glad they are on our side then,” Bakari said. With a few flaps of his giant blue wings, Abylar lifted off the roof and headed once again toward the city gates.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Erryl was beginning to feel delirious. He had not been given any food or water since the day before and was still tied to the tree. His limbs ached and were now swelling. From this position, he couldn’t look away as the slaughter of the guardians continued. But, by now, his body stood empty of tears, though his soul still cried out against the injustice around him. Being raised in Celestar, he had never realized the evil that existed out in the real world. He now questioned his desire to have ever wanted to leave his peaceful city.
Every few hours, as promised, the evil governor of Silla had killed another guardian. Each time, Erryl was first asked to give information the governor assumed Erryl knew. Much of it, unfortunately, Erryl did know, but he wouldn’t share it. He loved his fellow guardians, but there was more at stake here—the peace of multiple kingdoms. So, each time the governor had questioned him about the orb, the dragon, Bakari, Breelyn, and other things pertaining to Celestar, Erryl had held his lips tight and had tried to take his mind somewhere else. It was the most difficult task he had ever undertaken. It stretched him to his limits.
The portly governor approached Erryl from the other side of the camp. He walked slowly and deliberately, with a smirk on his full face, his eyes never leaving Erryl’s face. Erryl began to pray to a god that he knew must exist. He thought about his deceased mother, who had been gone for a few months. He now believed he would be seeing her again soon.
Erryl looked at the guardians. His father stood with the rest of the guardians and gazed back and forth from the governor to Erryl. Tears filled his father’s eyes, but a look of grand respect filled his face, and he nodded encouragingly to Erryl.
“So, Guardian, are you ready to answer my questions?”
Erryl turned his head away from his father. The governor stood a few feet in front of Erryl. A slight breeze blew, and a few autumn leaves floated down between the two of them as Erryl kept his mouth closed and his lips tight.
Then the governor stepped forward and, in a quickness that belied his size, slapped Erryl hard across the face.
“You foolish boy! Do you want them to die?”
“No. But there are worse things than death,” Erryl said through gritted teeth.
“Spoken by someone willing to watch others lose their lives for something so stupid. I will kill every one of them and then torture you until you tell me what I need to know
!” Spit dribbled out of the side of the governor’s mouth.
Silent, Erryl pushed himself up on his toes, trying to stretch his aching back.
In unison, the guardians knelt on the ground and bowed their heads toward him. Tears that, moments before, he had thought already spent now gushed forward again, dropping down from his face onto the leaf-filled ground. He had never been as proud of his people as he was at that moment.
The ring of the governor’s sword being drawn filled the afternoon air. Erryl’s heart beat through his chest. Erryl knew he and the others would die. One of his biggest regrets now was he wouldn’t be able to tell Bakari he was the fulfillment of prophecy.
Without warning, a war cry filled the air, and Gorn came crashing through the trees, his weathered face, full of wrinkles, looking hard and full of intent. His clothes were stained red, and a bleeding gash ran down his left arm. Stretching forth his hands, he sent a whip of lightning toward the governor. A last minute movement by one of the governor’s men made it catch a younger soldier rather than the governor himself.
Pouring out of the trees behind Gorn, a group of elves and Celestar protectors followed. They drew swords and attacked the governor’s men. Fierce battle ensued around the guardians, none of whom owned any weapons or were trained to use them.
Gorn fought like a madman, using a combination of wizard power and weaponry, slicing down anyone who stood in his way.
Erryl’s heart nearly burst with joy. His sudden deliverance, from a certain death to a possibility of life now, lifted his soul. The guardians stood in the middle of their pen, trying to figure out how to help. As a guard fell to the ground next to them, Erryl’s father picked up the guard’s sword and jumped over the fence. Suddenly, all the guardians roared and swarmed into the battle. All except Erryl. He still stood tied tightly to the tree—a witness to the slaughter..
A few guardians were sliced down easily. They were no match for the seasoned Elvyn soldiers of the governor.