A New Beginning (2 page)

The sweet song of the dragon hum called to her. Emallya reached for it. There was no way she was good enough with a sword to live through this without the dragon’s help. She surrendered herself to the call; accepted it with every fiber of her being.

Energy flowed into her body. It wrapped around her mind and formed a barrier against the Kojen’s mental attack. Strength poured into her muscles and she moved with speed that wasn’t hers as she brought her sword up against the creature. Surprise flushed through her when she managed to bring down the beast.

A scream cut through her concentration, freezing the air in her lungs. Emallya jumped back and turned to see Shendal fall to the floor, his torso nearly cut in half. Blood poured across the smooth boards as he gasped and shuddered. The walls closed in around Emallya as she watched the life in her brother’s eyes fade.

Panting, she backed away from the advancing Kojen. Her sword clattered to the wooden planks of the floor. She grabbed her head; emotions raged through her mind, not all of them hers. Power built from deep within. The Kojen seemed to move in slow motion as they lurched toward her. Without conscious thought, without understanding, Emallya wove thick bands of silver together within her mind and lashed out with the power.

The weaves spun across the small space and settled onto the beasts’ heads. More strands of the woven magic flew out through the door. Emallya could feel the strands drape over every Kojen in the village. In her mind, she grabbed on the one strand holding all of the weaves together and yanked it tight. The individual weaves collapsed into the minds of the beasts, crushing them.

The Kojen stopped and their broad, flat faces went slack. Their swords fell from limp hands. They swayed and then dropped. She stared at the unmoving beasts as the power receded and the energy in her mind returned to a quiet hum. Exhaustion swept through her and she slumped to the floor, barely able to keep her eyes open.

Mernoth slammed his body into a Shadow Dragon, the impact jerking Bardeck in the saddle. The gold sunk his claws into the black scales. His massive jaws ripped the rider from the Shadow’s back, and dropped the torn and broken body to the ground. The Shadow Dragon screamed, its body collapsing in on itself while it snapped uselessly at the air. Mernoth released the dying black dragon and let it fall.

Bardeck scanned the sky. There were no more foul Shadows. The rest had likely Jumped back to the Kormai. Strange they would suddenly go hide in their desert mountain and abandon their Kojen when there had been a serious chance of taking the village.

“Something is happening,”
Mernoth sent.

Bardeck followed the dragon’s line of sight through their mental connection. On the ground below, Kojen were dropping dead without being touched. He had seen this happen only once—five years earlier during the first battle he and Mernoth had fought. A Spirit weave was in motion, handled by a powerful Spirit user. There were no Silver Riders in Sharren at the moment, and a mage wouldn’t have the strength to use that weave.

At least the sudden Jump by the Shadow Riders made sense now.
“Someone down there emerged and has the strength be a Dragon Rider,”
Bardeck returned.

“So it would seem, my rider.”
Mernoth angled his wings for a landing and glided toward the ground. Like most villages, this one had an extra wide street in the middle. It provided a place where dragons could land without damaging their wings on any structures. Working his wings in short bursts, the gold settled on the hard-packed dirt.

Fires burned everywhere, and thick plumes of smoke hung thick in the cold air. Nearby, two red dragons landed and their riders leaped from the saddles. Though Bardeck couldn’t see the weaves they used, only a Silver could sense all of the powers, he knew they were putting everything they had into bringing the fires under control.

Bardeck pulled on his power and raised a shield of light around the burning structures. It glowed softly in the night. He adjusted the weave to allow living things out. It also let the smoke escape, leaving only the fire trapped inside the shield. It would make the work easier for those putting out the flames.

The dead villagers lay strewn among the bodies of the Kojen—the price for the defense of the village paid for in lives. The stench of burning flesh mixed with the scent of blood and innards spilled on the ground. Bardeck covered his mouth and coughed, yet he needed to block it out. Somewhere in this mess was a magic user. And not just any magic user; it was a
Silver
. He moved toward two of the mages; three people searching were better than one. The smoke blew on the wind, obscuring them briefly, before drifting away. His eyes watered from the irritation.

“It radiated out from that direction. We should start there.” The woman in green robes pointed into the darkness.

“Start where?”

They both turned. Marna, the green-robed mage, pointed again. “I said the weave radiated from that direction. The Kojen dropped in a wave that started over there.”

Bardeck squinted and nodded. “It’s what I saw from the air too. Shall we see if we can find whoever it was?”

Marna nodded and started through the night, deftly stepping around the dead, human and Kojen alike.

Silence hung thick in the air, disturbed only by the crackle of flames. Shouts of victory went up outside. Several men and women in the red robes of the Fire mages ran past the open doorway. Smoke drifted in, burning Emallya’s nose and throat. They had their work cut out for them; it would be a miracle if they could bring all of the fires under control. More houses would catch before they were all contained.

The gold scales of a dragon flashed past the door followed by two red dragons as they landed. Emallya breathed a sigh of relief and struggled to her feet. With Fire Riders and a Light Rider, the flames wouldn’t spread and consume the remaining houses.

Emallya turned toward her brother and dropped to her knees beside him, heedless of the blood that soaked through the soft fabric of her dress. The sharp pain of loss squeezed her chest tight, and she struggled to breathe. Tears welled in her eyes as memories of Shendal filled her mind. Climbing trees with him down by the river. The time they slipped away with their father’s draft horse and pretended they were riding a dragon; and the trouble they had gotten into upon their return. The first time he practiced with a sword.

The memories came faster and faster like an avalanche when a sharp wail cut through her thoughts and abruptly pulled her back to the present. Emallya slowly stood and walked to the bedroom. She cracked open the door and stopped, hesitating. Her mother lay on the bed, crying as the Yellow placed a babe in her arms. Such was the time of the War of Fire. It seemed every new life was heralded by the death of another, and no family was left unscathed.

“Is everyone all right in here?”

Emallya spun back to the shattered front door, closing the one to the bedroom. A young man dressed as a rider and two older women in the robes of senior mages stepped into the house, avoiding the large mounds of the dead Kojen. Her eyes fell upon her brother when the mage in the yellow robes of the Tower of Healing knelt beside him. “He is the only casualty,” Emallya said quietly. Her mother didn’t know yet, and she deserved a chance to celebrate a new child before she had to grieve the loss of another.

The other mage, dressed in the green robes of the Tower of Earth, stared at Emallya with sharp eyes. “You can use magic, child. I can sense it in you. Since there are no Spirit mages or riders present, this must be your doing.” She glanced at the dead Kojen and pursed her lips. “And a strong talent you have to accomplish such on first emergence. Only riders can use this much power. Have you heard the call?”

Emallya nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Had her father survived the attack? He’d spent his entire life fighting in the War of Fire and was a proficient soldier. Still, there were never any guarantees when it came to war.

The man stepped forward and bowed slightly to her, the five-pointed pendant of a Dragon Rider swinging from his neck. “I am Di’shan Bardeck Darshan, rider of the Gold Mernoth. It would be my honor to escort you to Galdrilene to answer the call if you so wish.”

Emallya cleared her throat and tried to blink away the tears that spilled over despite her attempt to control them. “Thank you, Di’shan,” she answered, remembering to use the formal title of a Dragon Rider. “I will accept your escort.” She glanced at her brother’s body again. “Must I leave this instant?”

“Of course not, Foundling.” Bardeck smiled, a kind light in his eyes. “Your path is always yours to choose. When you wish to answer the call is also your choice—be it now or a year from now.”

It felt strange to be addressed as Foundling; to hear the formal title of a newly called Dragon Rider applied to her. “Thank you, Di’shan.” She gestured to Shendal’s form. “My mother doesn’t know my brother is dead, and I need to know if my father survived this attack.”

Bardeck nodded. “I will send someone to retrieve your brother so he can be prepared for burial with the rest of the dead.”

Emallya couldn’t answer. She swallowed several times and managed to whisper, “Thank you.” She was determined not to break down in front of these people.

She waited in silence after they left. Soon two junior mages arrived. They shifted Shendal’s body onto a large blanket and wrapped him. A blessed numbness settled over Emallya as they covered his face and carried him from the house. Acrid smoke still filled the chilly night air of early fall as she stood staring through the ruined doorway. The silhouettes of people flashed across the light from the fires. Though several houses still burned, most of it was under control.

“Emallya, Shendal, come and meet your newest sister,” Tallayna called, her voice muted by the door separating them.

Emallya walked slowly into the room where her younger siblings crowded around the bed to get a look at the newest member of the family.

Tallayna looked up, her eyes raking over Emallya’s blood-soaked skirt and her tear- stained face. “Emallya,” fear crept into her mother’s voice. “Where is Shendal?”

“He…” She swallowed hard as her eyes filled again. “Shendal is in Maiadar now.” Maiadar, the realm of the dead, where so many from her village resided.

Grief closed over her mother’s face. Emallya watched Tallayna struggle to control her composure in the presence of the younger children.

Eraden, her brother of only eight years shook his head, vehement denial in his expression. “Shendal cannot be in Maiadar.”

Emallya reached to embrace him, but he pulled away, glaring at her as if it was her fault. Maybe it was. If her magic had come just a few moments sooner, Shendal would still be alive. The emotions in the room swamped Emallya, and the ache in her head built until she could hardly bear it.

She walked away and passed through the front room. The bodies of the Kojen had been removed. By now they would be piled with the rest. She stepped out into the night, ignoring the blue dragon that walked past, gingerly carrying a dead Kojen in its teeth. Rank smoke billowed from the pile of burning beasts.

By the light of the bonfire she drew water from the well and carried it back into the house. It only took a moment to grab a scrub brush, towels, and a cake of soap from the kitchen. While her mother and siblings mourned together in the other room, Emallya sopped up the cold, congealed blood with the towels and scrubbed her brother’s death from the floor until only smooth wooden boards remained.