Defenders of The Sacred Land: Book One of The Sacred Land Saga (31 page)

Gondrial still had a look of irritation, and Ianthill noticed it.

“What now?” Ianthill asked.

“If you pay Captain Edifor, what assurances do we have that he will honor your agreement?”

Tatrice stepped forward. “I will stay with the ship.”

Dorenn immediately objected, but Tatrice stood her ground.

“I fear you may not be enough,” Ianthill said.

Bren took a step toward Ianthill. “Then I will see it done. I will remain on board.”

Ianthill glanced at Enowene who eyed Bren and Tatrice suspiciously.

“And I shall remain as well,” Enowene said.

Ianthill nodded. “So be it; come with me now and we will talk to the captain. Gondrial, you and the boys help prepare those horses Palanon sent for. As soon as we see the ship off, we will ride into the Sacred Land.”

Two days passed without incident as Dicarion led the small band of rescuers across the barren Sacred Land. The dog Palanon raced back and forth ahead of the party, sniffing anything he could get his nose into and barking at any rabbit or rodent that scurried by. More than once Dicarion had to call the dog back when he started chasing after one furry animal or another.

Dorenn had begun to doubt the teachings that magic was evil. Those childhood stories, which frightened him into bed at night, may have had little to no basis in fact. Dorenn had also begun to think about letting Ianthill teach him the ways of wielding, but he knew Rennon would get in the way.

Dorenn could not feel the sensation of the land around him, as if all of his senses had suddenly ceased to function. Dorenn took the three smooth, round stones from the black pouch in his vest pocket and turned them over in his hand. He could feel the power they each held, and he felt comforted by it.

As the sun began its final descent, Dicarion signaled it was time to make camp. Dorenn felt uneasy of Dicarion’s choice of campsite; he had led them to a cluster of ruins very similar to the ruins of Signal Hill. The architecture was almost identical, but Dicarion assured him there were no cursed townsfolk. As the party passed through the old gate entrance of the ruins, Dorenn noted the abandoned buildings were largely intact and appeared more in disrepair than in ruins. At the center of the village was a town square, and at the rear of the square was a large structure with crumbling statuary. Its base appeared worn and part of the roof was missing, but it was still a remarkable sight.

“We will stay in the temple of Loracia. It is a defendable central structure,” Dicarion announced.

Vesperin was very excited at the prospect of staying at the temple, and he nodded his approval to Dorenn, who returned the nod. Vesperin made his way to the temple by working his way behind Dicarion.

Once inside the structure, Dorenn marveled at its magnificence. High ceilings with layered, vaulted walls and statuary of the goddess Loracia as a centerpiece near the pulpit gave the interior a majestic flair. A large part of the ceiling toward the rear of the temple was missing and the furnishings where all askew, but Dorenn had no trouble seeing its former glory. Dicarion took it upon himself to stable the horses, and Rennon joined Dorenn in gathering firewood. Ianthill and Gondrial set up a table and began pouring over old maps while Vesperin prayed at the altar of Loracia.

The overgrown cobblestone streets twisted and turned around small round houses crumbling from neglect. Trees and brush had once grown throughout the village, so Dorenn and Rennon had no trouble finding dead branches to hack into firewood.

“This place is incredible,” Rennon said as he gathered a few stray pieces of wood. “It’s hard to believe it was abandoned.”

“As I understand it, there were no crops or livestock that could flourish after the war stripped the land,” Dorenn said.

“Magic corrupted it. Its evil took this city.”

Dorenn grimaced. “It wasn’t magic that corrupted the land, it was its misuse.”

“What is wrong with you, Dorenn? Ever since we left the Vale of Morgoran you have been magic’s advocate. Are you sympathizing with the wielders now?” Rennon laughed uneasily when Dorenn did not reply.

Dorenn sighed and picked up another piece of wood. “Would that be so wrong?”

Rennon dropped his wood. “Have you lost your mind? Of course it is wrong. Look around you. The drawing of essence destroyed this village and the very land around it. If you have any doubts of its evil, destructive power just remember Rodraq.”

“Rodraq died by Dramyds as I remember, not essence wielding. In fact, I believe it was the use of essence that saved us all.” Dorenn paused to think of a way to word his next question. “Rennon, the tea leaves Sanmir gave you, surely you have run out by now.”

Rennon began picking up the wood he had dropped. “It has been four days.”

“Four days! How long can you go without?” Dorenn asked alarmed.

“I don’t know. I have never been without this long.”

“Do you know what the mixture is? Can we find the plants in the wild?”

“That is all I…” He paused and held his finger up to his mouth for Dorenn to remain quiet. “Did you hear that?”

“What? I don’t hear anything.”

Rennon dropped the wood again and drew his daggers. He moved slowly toward one of the abandoned houses, and Dorenn followed after he slowly put his firewood on the ground. From inside the house came low mutterings Dorenn could not understand. Rennon looked back to the square and realized it would be quite a run back to the temple. As the two got closer, they could hear the dark speech more clearly.

“Shadow Lurkers?” Dorenn whispered to Rennon, and Rennon shook his head.

”I don’t think so. They look like small Dramyds, maybe half the size.”

The creatures stood inside the house talking in dark, guttural speech intermixed with hissing noises. They were short, black, and covered with thorny scales. They wore as much dirt and grime as they did clothing, and they carried black, curved swords.

A snapping noise from behind him sent Rennon’s wrist in motion, and a dagger whizzed by Dorenn’s face, striking a sneaking creature between the eyes. Rennon looked down at his hand and was surprised to see the dagger he had just thrown was still in his possession.

Dorenn drew
Dranmalin
slowly as not to make sound. “We have to warn the others,” he whispered to Rennon.

“What are they and what are they doing here? I thought the Defenders kept such creatures out of the Sacred Land,” Rennon whispered.

Dorenn shook his head. “I don’t know, it isn’t important. Back away slowly. If we can make it back to the temple undetected, we can warn the others and find out.”

As the two were backing away from the house, Dorenn saw a hearth fire burning in the temple, and the whole place was lit up with soft glowing light. Dicarion had already begun preparing for the night, apparently not at all worried about an attack in the Sacred Land. Dorenn realized the small Dramyds must know of their presence and were preparing to attack. Frantically he searched the dark edges of the temple with his sharp eyes for movement. Concentrating on the darkness, he let his consciousness search out the areas around the temple, and when he opened his eyes, he could see in the dark as if it were day. The temple was surrounded. Dorenn grabbed Rennon’s arm and stopped him from moving. “The creatures are all around the temple. I see them crouched there.”

“In the darkness you see them?” Rennon asked skeptically.

“Aye, trust me, they are there.”

“What do we do now?” Rennon asked.

Dorenn felt the pouch with the three stones and closed his eyes for a moment.

“Dorenn, what now?”

Dorenn slowly opened his eyes. “Rennon, forgive me, but I—”

“No, Dorenn, please don’t do it.”

“I have no choice, my friend. I must.”

“If you go running out there, they will swarm you like a colony of honey bees.”

Dorenn put his hand on Rennon’s shoulder. “We need a diversion. I know what decision the three stones I bought in Cedar Falls will help me make. It is the decision to draw essence.” He touched the pouch containing the stones in his vest. “We both have made our decision already, but we just have not wanted to admit it.”

Rennon looked down, his daggers drawn. He took a deep breath and removed Dorenn’s hand from his shoulder. “I cannot be friends with a wielder.”

Dorenn nodded. “I shall always call you friend.” He took out the stones and turned them in his free hand. A moment of concentration and the stones were gone, their purpose was now clear. A surge of energy took his body and his mind cleared. It was all so simple now. He felt the trees, the grass, the buildings, and he sensed the dead of the land and the life of the creatures all around him. Even without the ability to draw essence from the land, he felt himself draw in the very essence of all else that would allow him to do so. Rennon backed away from him, and the pang of Dorenn’s own sacrifice surged the energy to his fingertips. “Shield your eyes, Rennon,” Dorenn said as he let loose the energy on the diminutive Dramyds in a devastating bolt of pure lightning. High-pitched screams came from the surprised creatures as they burned in intense light.

The remaining Dramyds in the house bolted out into the courtyard. Dorenn turned to meet them with another blast of intense light. Whatever survived ran away into the darkness. Dorenn fell to his knees with his hands covering his face. Rennon scoffed and ran toward the temple as Dicarion, Gondrial, Ianthill, and Vesperin ran out to see what all the commotion was.

“What in Toborne’s name happened out here?” Dicarion shouted to Rennon as he ran up.

“I hope your cause is worth it, Ianthill. Dorenn is one of you now. He has gone against everything we were ever taught to live the life of a criminal.” Rennon’s eyes flashed with anger and contempt. “See to it that your cause was worth it.” He entered the temple, sheathing his daggers as he walked.

“Shocking words from one who wields the wild magic, is it not?” Gondrial said with a sarcastic smirk.

“Not now, Gondrial, this is not an easy time for any of these boys,” Ianthill said.

Dicarion leaned down to one of the dead creatures. “Draalings, nasty little creatures, quite poisonous if they bite you.”

Vesperin ran to where Dorenn wept and knelt down beside him. “Are you all right, Dorenn?”

“Will you abandon me too, Vesperin?”

“Why would I do that? We have known each other since childhood.”

“Rennon has.”

“Rennon will recover, he always does. I am surprised at you for worrying about it.”

“Not this time. I think he is serious. What have I done, Vesperin? What have I done?”

Vesperin took Dorenn’s hands and Dorenn pulled back. His hands were charred and burnt. “Let me heal you.” Dorenn slowly gave in and lifted his hands to Vesperin, who said a short prayer. Dorenn’s hands returned to normal.

Vesperin smiled warmly. “Come on now, Dicarion has a stew on the fire. You will be hungry after the shock subsides.”

Dorenn was already feeling the hunger pangs. “Am I a wielder now, Vesperin?”

Vesperin looked at the charred remains of the Draalings. “It appears that way.”

As soon as the boys left earshot, Dicarion turned to Ianthill.

“How in Fawlsbane’s beard did the boy do that, Ianthill? I have never seen a neophyte wield like that before.”

“He is more than he seems. The Silver Drake may yet choose him.”

“The Silver Drake? When will this happen?” Dicarion asked.

“All will be revealed in time, my friend.”

“I thought this land was dead. Where did he get the essence to wield?” asked Gondrial.

“He summoned it from himself somehow,” Ianthill said. “I suspect an essence stone.”

Dicarion winced. “Where would he get his hands on one of those?”

“He bought three stones in the shop where he bought the jade statuette. One was probably an essence stone. He will need instruction with great care now. The situation is delicate.”

“Indeed, he has been taught all his life to fear and loath wielders; to suddenly become one could lead him to madness,” Dicarion said as he peered into one of the abandoned houses.

Gondrial shuttered. “I remember getting essence sickness when I was an apprentice. I hope we can teach Dorenn without giving him that experience.”