Pravus took a deep breath. She’s right.
He pushed Princess Zelanora from his thoughts and focused on the more important matter. “We’ve not yet discussed it, but there’s the matter of Cyrus.”
“Yes, and I have a plan to kill the bastard.” Aria faced Alderan and smiled. “I believe you’ll be useful to us yet.”
Pravus scowled. “How so?”
“Cyrus cares about the people and will do almost anything to save as many as he can.”
“I agree, but what does this have to do with Alderan?” Pravus raised a hand dismissively. “We can’t threaten his life.”
“Of course not, you fool.” Aria paced along the railing. “We’ll use Alderan to deliver a message to Nardus. If Nardus doesn’t come to Arian Valley by sunrise three mornings from now and surrender his life to us, we will continue our assault on every city and village until none remain.”
Alderan glared at Aria. “Even if I do what you ask and Nardus agrees, that’s not enough time.”
“Would you rather I make it tomorrow morning instead?” Aria seethed. “The fates of the Duos Flumen citizens lie in your hands.”
Alderan shook his head, and Pravus groaned.
If Cinolth gets his way, there will be no one left to rule.
But the plan would draw Cyrus out. He saw no other option, so he acquiesced. “Very well.”
Aria moved over to Alderan once again. “Go to our father and give him our terms.” She kissed his cheek. “If you don’t, or Nardus hasn’t surrendered in three days, I will hunt you down using our bond, personally take the life of your little girlfriend, and then Duos Flumen will burn!”
Alderan stood there, his eyes wide and jaw slackened.
“Tick-tock,” said Pravus.
Alderan turned and walked away.
“Should we follow him, my lord,” asked Murtag.
“No.” Pravus cracked his knuckles. “Once Cyrus is dead, the others will have nothing left to fight for.”
Murtag sent the orders down to let Alderan leave the city unopposed.
“Gather the troops. We will head back down to Arian Valley at once.” He turned to Aria. “Tell the beast to send his followers back to Arian Valley. Cyrus will soon be crushed.”
Pravus turned and faced Trivers Lake. The beauty of the surrounding mountains wasn’t lost on him. Given different circumstances, Vallah would’ve made a tremendous location to rule from.
But I’m taking your place at Galondu Castle, Father.
† † †
Once Rayah had located and retrieved the proper supplies to counteract the poison, her Rakzar, Urza, Ridan, Bakkan, and Zerenity had hidden inside someone’s vacated home while Pravus and his army of orcs trekked up to the King’s Palace. It took a team effort to talk Ridan out of chasing down the orcs and facing them alone. The girl seemed to have a screw loose, but Rayah couldn’t imagine what she’d do if Alderan were killed. She hoped she’d never find out.
After some reconnaissance, Rakzar confirmed that the entire orc army had gone with Pravus. Zerenity still hadn’t recovered from the poison, so they’d have to take the long route to the stronghold. Rayah prayed that they wouldn’t run into the rest of Pravus’s and Cinolth’s armies that headed up the western shoreline of Trivers Lake.
By the time they reached the lowest level of Vallah the sun had begun its descent in the east. Smoke from the fires in Borza turned the sky red, orange, and purple. It would’ve been a beautiful sight had she not know the source. To the south, flames still licked the sky. A city like Elatos where basically every structure erected had been made of wood could burn for days.
“Rayah!”
Rayah’s heart fluttered in her chest. She turned around and flew into Alderan’s arms. She’d been too afraid to even wonder where he was.
They held each other for a solid minute before either of them said a word. When Rayah pulled back, she saw the pain and sorrow in his eyes. Tears streaked his face. She wanted to fix whatever ailed him.
“What’s happened?” she asked.
He shook his head as tears began to flow faster. She held him again, her heart aching for him.
She hugged him tighter and whispered in his ear, “It’s your sister, isn’t it?”
Violent sobs wracked him, the answer obvious. Hatred boiled in Rayah’s veins, and she purposed in her heart to strike Aria down if the bitch ever hurt Alderan again.
Chapter Fifty-Three
Like a plague, the darkness followed Wrik everywhere he went. Fear of it had driven him across the Ancient Realm. From East Hotah to Cuspis to Flumenpars. Then on to Daltura and Galaportus. Instinct, likely driven by the toe ring he wore, told him to head into the Procerus Mountains.
Although he’d never seen the home of the dragons, he knew it existed, long before Nardus had gone there and returned with wild stories.
Across Altus Pass and into the high mountains he soared. The thin air burned his lungs and tired him much faster than the lower hills, valleys, and plains had, but he couldn’t stop. Doing so would be his death.
The darkness rolled behind him like thunder clouds, never more than half a mile behind him. During the day, he could keep an eye on the darkness and stop and rest for a few minutes and hunt for food, but at night he had nowhere to escape from it.
The moist, frigid air formed ice crystals on his wings and weighed him down but he couldn’t give up. The peaks before him rose into the clouds. He knew somewhere above that cloud line lay the Valley of Dragons nestled between the peaks.
Every muscle in his body ached as he soared upward and into the thick layer of clouds. Just when he thought he could go no farther, he burst through the tops of the fluffy clouds and caught sight of a narrow passage between two of the peaks. He darted forward, aware of the darkness closing in. He didn’t look back. Didn’t need to. It nipped at his heels.
Through the passage he flew, a long stretch draped in darkness. It pulled at him. Clawed at his wings. The last of his strength gave out just as he cleared the passage. He plummeted down the inside slope of the peak and crashed into the valley floor, tumbling head over heels a dozen times before coming to a rest in the tall grass.
The darkness pounced on him and tore at his soul.
† † †
A faint blue light penetrated Wrik’s closed eyelids. His ears rang, and his neck and back ached like they’d been trampled. When he forced his eyes open, he’d expected to find himself on the other side of death, but instead he stared into the icy blue eyes of a water dragon. He hadn’t seen one before, but the water dripping from its scaly hide made it obvious.
The valley floor tumbled inside his head, a reminder of the spill he’d taken. But what of the darkness that had chased him? As far as he could tell, he retained his limbs, body, and soul.
Wrik sat up. Blood drained from his skull, causing his head to throb. Massaging his head with one hand, he propped himself up with his other. After his crash landing, his mind held no more memories before waking a minute ago. “Gods… what happened?”
“You brought death into our peaceful valley.” The dragon’s voice echoed through the vibrant cave and shook Wrik’s heart right through his chest.
Guilt tore at Wrik’s heart. “Someone died?”
The dragon nodded. Water dripped from his hairy chin and splashed in the pool of water in which he stood. “Certainly, but I was able to revive you.”
Wrik craned his serpent-like neck toward the elder dragon. “Are you saying that I died?”
“Indeed.”
As both a scholar and a prophet, he’d read books on almost every subject in existence, save one. Unlike many people he knew, the afterlife never fascinated him the way prophecy and history did. So much could be gained from studying history, and prophecy foretold of potential future events, but the afterlife didn’t matter unless you were dead. He’d assumed there’d be a bright light and a familiar presence drawing him into it upon death, b
ut he’d felt nothing. Didn’t know he’d died. Not even a vague sense of lost time niggled recollection.
So where did I go? Fear slithered underneath his skin. Is there nothing after death?
The dragon rose from the water’s depths. “Allowing you to die was the only way to rescue you from the shade.”
A shade?
It explained a lot, but also conjured dozens of questions and thoughts in his mind. Unless summoned, a shade would never leave the lower world.
Pravus is too weak to summon such a demon to hunt me, so who could have done it?
Wrik focused his mind back on Aria, but what reason would she have to kill him? He strove to get on Aria’s good side and thought he had, so he just couldn’t get behind the idea of her being involved. And, as far as he knew, dragons didn’t have the ability to summon shades.
Someone else has it out for me, but who?
He reached far into the recesses of his mind and pulled up memories of his past but couldn’t put a finger on whom or what event could’ve triggered such a vendetta. One thing he knew for certain though: Pravus had hired the shadow troll to kill him, but that incident had nothing to do with the shade. As a prophet and student of prophecy, he understood the odds of two such events happening within days of each other and not being linked, but facts were still facts.
Perhaps the old dragon knows more.
Wrik stood on clawed feet with splayed toes. After four days, it still felt awkward. “Do shades not wait to capture the soul of the one they’ve sifted?”
“Sifted. An interesting word choice for the act of reaping.” The old dragon spread his wings and stretched. “The sole purpose of summoning a shade is to bring about death, not to capture and control souls. Had it been a spectre at your heels, we would not be having this conversation.”
“Ah, yes.” Heat rose in Wrik’s cheeks, and the sensation made him wonder if his embarrassment was noticeable while in his dragon form. He dared not ask. “Pardon my confusion. It’s been awhile since I’ve studied ancient spirits and creatures.”
“And dragon culture for that matter.” The old dragon moved closer. “You’re not one of us.”
Wrik’s pulse quickened. He’d heard tales of the way the dragons dealt with outsiders, especially ones not of their kind. “Yes, of course, I’m not from the Valley of Dragons.”
“Don’t be coy.” Water sprayed from the old dragon’s nostrils. Two geysers. “You are no dragon.”
Wrik looked around, but they were alone. “Do the others know?”
“If they did, the shade would’ve been the least of your problems.”
Wrik glanced down at his own dragon form. “How did you figure it out?”
“I know all dragons. Past, present, and future. You are none of them, and my memory is infallible.” The old dragon grinned. “The brass toe ring is a good indication as well. I knew its maker.”
Wrik leaned forward, his voice little more than a whisper. “And my secret is safe with you?”
The old dragon sank back into the water, all the way to his shoulders. “For now. However, I may have need of your services in the future.”
“Then you’re holding me hostage?” asked Wrik.
“In a manner of speaking, yes. Events soon to unfold will devastate many. In that time, I will look to you for help and sanctuary.”
Wrik dipped his head toward the old dragon. “In such a capacity, I will be honored.”
“Very good. Now, tell me your name, wizard.”
“Oh, yes. I’ve lost a bit of my wits over the last few days running from that shade. My name is Wizard Wrik Isler, Fizärd Brefäʈ. You may simply call me Wrik.”
“Ah, yes. A prophet. Much to my liking. Wrik, I am Peorvem The Ancient. Your acquaintance is an honor and a privilege.”
Wrik bowed. “Likewise.”
Rising, he took in the enormity of the cavern. The blue lake filled most of its space, leaving only a small area of rocky beach where he stood. Two paths led away from the cavern, one ascending and the other descending. It seemed like a good jumping point to Nasduron.
Wrik spread his arms wide and pointed toward the two paths. “Where do these paths lead?”
Peorvem raised an arm. “Ascend to the valley.” He smacked his hand on the water’s surface. “Descend into oblivion.”
“And how often do you get visitors down here?”
“If you’d asked me three weeks ago, my answer would’ve been never. However, you are not the first as of late, nor will you be the last.”
Wrik reached for his glasses and then remembered they’d become part of him when he’d transformed into his current dragon form. “So you’re the one who helped Nardus find himself.”
“I am. Is he a friend of yours?”
“Acquaintance, though we are on friendly terms.”
“And why do you ask if I have visitors?”
“So I’d know if I should leave soon.”
“As long as you do not ascend, you are free to remove the toe ring that holds your form. You will be safe enough.” Peorvem descended into the waters, leaving only his head exposed.
“Very good,” said Wrik. “I really do appreciate you saving my life and for your hospitality. However, I still have several questions that you might be able to help with.”
Peorvem drew closer. Water manifested and trickled down his scales like sweat. “I will answer any questions you have to the best of my ability.”
“The shade that attacked me… Do you know who or what may have summoned it?”
“Given the fact that it chased you across the entire realm for several days, the summoner must have possessed great power. However, there is no way to determine the actual summoner unless you recognize their essence. As I’m certain you’re aware, every spell leaves a distinct aura of color and smell, even those used to summon a shade.”
Wrik looked to the cavern ceiling and sighed. “Given my state of mind at the time, I lacked the capacity and energy to take note of any such detail.”
Peorvem rose out of the water and walked over to the water’s edge. “But you do have the skill?”
“Yes.”
Peorvem reached out and pressed his middle claw into Wrik’s forehead. “Then perhaps this will help you.”
A bright light filled Wrik’s vision, blinding him. Then, as it faded, the Valley of Dragons came into view. He and several other dragons gathered around a shape darker than the night. Red eyes, full of rage and hate, shone from that darkness. The shade sucked the life from the small dragon it stood over. As the dragon slipped into death, a faint light, full of the colors of a rainbow, surrounded the shade. The essence of its caster. In a blink, the light faded.
Wrik stumbled back a step as the valley faded and the cavern returned. His heart thumped in his chest. The aura he knew better than any other. He’d witnessed it and studied it several times over the last month. “It can’t be…”
Peorvem withdrew into the water. “Ah, you’ve been betrayed by a friend. I am deeply sorry.”
Wrik found no words adequate to describe his fury and sorrow. The dagger of betrayal twisted in his heart and rended his soul in two. Bound by prophecy and duty, he’d never interfered with events before, but how could he not do so now? How could he stand by and not retaliate? The answer stared him down and taunted him.
I must act.
He took a long, deep breath, gathered himself, and faced Peorvem. “I sincerely thank you for your help, Ancient One. Now, I must go.”
“Of course, but don’t forget about our agreement.” Water dripped from Peorvem’s beard.
Wrik nodded. “I will not, but I do have one last question. How will you summon me when the need arises?”
“The toe ring will glow.” Peorvem’s voice faded as he disappeared beneath the water’s surface.
Wrik peered down at the brass ring wrapped around his toe.
Interesting.
With that, Wrik fl
apped his wings and took off toward the path of ascension. Rage and destiny pushed him toward the Three Kingdoms.
You’ll pay with your life, Aria.
Chapter Fifty-Four
Nardus, Theyn, Berggren, and Niesha were the first to arrive at the stronghold the night before last, and it worried Nardus until he thought about the distance those from Vallah and Elatos would have to travel through the tunnel systems to reach it. Either city lay a good thirty miles from the stronghold. Perhaps farther traveling underground, especially considering how deep the tunnels must run beneath the Hotah River.
That morning, a few began trickling in, each worn and wearier than the last. Every last one of them knew they’d lost everything they’d ever had, including family members and friends for most of them. Nardus kept watch of the tunnels both from the cities and from the surface. Alderan and the others would likely come from the surface entrance.
Noon rolled around, and Alderan still hadn’t arrived. Nardus paced between the tunnels and would’ve worn the ground out had it not been made of solid rock. Finally, his patience wore out.
It took him about ten minutes to locate Theyn in the growing crowd. When he did, her face said it all.
She cupped his face in her soft hand. “Don’t worry. Alderan will show up.”
“You don’t know that. It’s been two days.”
Several shrieks sounded above the murmur.
“The enemy has found us!” shouted a woman.
“Run!” yelled a man.
Panic swept through the stronghold like wildfire and created a stampede.
Nardus fought his way through the throng. When he finally caught a glimpse of the surface tunnel entrance, he saw what had caused the commotion. Two gnolls, battle worn and covered in dried blood stood at the tunnel entrance. He teleported closer and targeted the threats, fireballs ready in his palms.
“Stop!” yelled someone from behind the gnolls.
Rended Souls Page 57