Defenders of The Sacred Land: Book One of The Sacred Land Saga (38 page)

The Sea Goddess
sailed into the Old Symbor dock without resistance. No dockmaster greeted them and no Defenders met them. Bren’s feeling of dread had intensified as they neared the land. Tatrice had also begun to feel the sensation of dread for the first time since donning her new armor. As soon as he, Enowene, and Tatrice departed, Captain Edifor sailed
The Sea Goddess
back out to sea with haste, leaving them in Old Symbor. They left the ruins just before midday and continued on foot across the Sacred Land until the snowfall became so great, they could no longer travel effectively.

“If you trust me, my ladies, I will provide for us,” Bren said.

“I trust you, Bren,” Tatrice said.

Enowene glared at Tatrice and then nodded to Bren.

Bren sat for four hours holding a Lora Daine and meditating. Tatrice had just begun to worry when she heard the beating of giant wings from somewhere above. She gasped in awe as the figure of a white drake took shape amongst a backdrop of snowflakes, which made it almost invisible. The drake landed and walked to where Bren and Tatrice waited. Tatrice marveled at the drakes’ beauty; her snow white scales glistened and her eyes where ice blue. She was about half the size of Amadacea.

“I hear your call, dragon knight,” the drake said in a feminine, melodic voice. “I am Delanorasylva, Shadesilver in common tongue. I am here to assist you.” The drake became visibly startled when she noticed Tatrice was female. “A woman dragon knight, how can this be?” she asked.

“She is the first,” Bren said. “A knight of Amadacea the Blue.”

“Amadacea?” the beast said surprised. “How extraordinary.” Tatrice was not certain what to make of the drake’s words, but she did not question them. Bren and Tatrice climbed up on the drake’s back, and Enowene followed reluctantly.

“I can take you within a few miles of Brightonhold Keep but no farther. Two foul black dragon exiles have been sighted patrolling that area.”

Bren spoke with concern. “What are black dragons doing in this land? They never come down this far from the mountains of Ishrak.”

“They are up to no good for certain,” Shadesilver said. “Hold on to my scales and keep down low, for it is very cold.” The drake took flight easily and soared into the falling snowflakes.

Trendan had known for some time that he was being followed. As the snow blanketed the Sacred Land, he found it increasingly difficult to hide his tracks. Not that it did any good anyway; the woman called Fayne still found a way to track him. He had finally decided to stop and wait for the woman to catch up. The invading army from Scarovia was far behind, and he had time to wait a day or so. Trendan stopped at an old farmstead and found signs of recent inhabitants. He wondered if he would reach Brightonhold Keep or Calanbrough Keep in time to warn them of the Scarovian army. The armies of the West had vanished into thin air, and the Scarovian army marched unopposed, destroying and looting everything in its path. The Defenders, the Enforcers, and the knights of Lux Enor were all the Sacred Land had to stop them now.

By midday Trendan saw the first sign of Fayne, and he waited patiently for her to find him. She rode to the farmstead and entered it. After finding oats and water in the partially collapsed barn for her horse, she entered the farmhouse where Trendan had a fire going and a stew cooking.

“Welcome, Fayne, come and share a meal,” he offered.

“You knew I followed you?” she asked.

Trendan smiled and dipped her some stew. “I did. I tried to shake you off my trail, but you track nearly as well as I do.”

“I told you I needed to find Vesperin,” she said, accepting the stew and sitting on the pallet Trendan had put down on the cold wooden flooring.

Trendan sat on the pallet with his meal in hand. “I may not even see Vesperin; I am trying to reach the twin keeps to warn them of the Scarovian armies. I may not come in contact with Vesperin or his party.”

“You will. I know you will,” she said confidently.

“How can you be so sure?” Trendan asked.

“Because, for some reason, I have a feeling,” she said.

“A feeling, just a feeling?” he asked.

“Don’t mock me, Trendan, my people have a sense for such things.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” He took a bite of stew. “It makes sense for us to travel on together.”

“Agreed, how much farther?” she asked.

“We still have a few days yet, and it will be slow going if the snow doesn’t let up some.”

“Are we going to stay here for the night?”

“That was my plan. This farmstead is a Defender’s shelter, and it appears someone has stayed here recently, but it still contains enough food and water for us and our mounts to stay a night.”

“Good, I could use a warm place to sleep for a change.” She looked around the empty room. “I just wish I had a hot bath to soak in.”

Trendan choked on a bite of stew.

Chapter 20: Brightonhold

The first light of day crawled over the northern wall of Brightonhold Keep, and the young lieutenant was glad for the warmth. The nighttime hours in the Sacred Land had grown colder as winter progressed. The lieutenant set his poleax aside and rubbed the numbness from his hands over a brazier.

“Stiff morning,” another soldier said as he handed the lieutenant a steaming cup of bittering tea.

“Aye,” the lieutenant replied, taking the tea. “Thank you.” The lieutenant held the cup in both hands and sipped the black liquid. “What news?”

“I hear the young woman from the Vale is being kept here. What news from the night watch?” the soldier asked.

“Well, the woman you speak of is to be beheaded today. Commandant Yarbrille has ruled her as a heretic and worse, as a wielder.”

“When?”

“At midday. The executioner is sharpening his axe as we speak.” The lieutenant shook his head and took another sip of the tea. “Filthy wielders, and she is so beautiful, I never would have named her a wielder if I hadn’t seen her try and use her vile skills.”

“Oh, what did you see?” the soldier asked.

“She burned off her chains and tried to run when we threw her in the dungeon. Commandant Yarbrille has an adept on guard duty now to curb her activities.”

“The Sacred Land is changing. I remember a time when even the simplest wielder enchantment was impossible, but now the essence returns,” the soldier said.

“It is still that way in the heart of the Sacred Land. The change is only here on the outskirts.”

“Tragic really, isn’t it?” the soldier said, shaking his head.

“Quite tragic. The Enforcers are gaining the upper hand in the struggle against magic. Rest assured, young soldier. We will see this through yet.”

“Is the woman still in the dungeon then?”

The lieutenant almost spit out his tea. “The dungeon? Where have you been, soldier? The lady resides in chains in the council chamber. It seems Yarbrille has taken a liking to her.” The lieutenant nudged the soldier. “If you asked me, he has been smitten with her.”

“Indeed, you cannot mean…”

“Aye, my friend, it is said he has made use of the situation and…” A bewildered expression suddenly appeared on the lieutenant’s face and his eyes narrowed. “Do I know you, soldier?”

The soldier’s eyes narrowed mischievously. “Aye, but I cannot allow that to dissuade my purpose.”

The lieutenant dropped his bittering tea and reached for his poleax but to no avail, he fell to the ground just short of his goal as the soldier made a flicking motion with his fingers. “Hmm, it seems the essence does return to the fringes of the Sacred Land.” The soldier looked down at the lieutenant. “Thank you for the information, my good man. Now sleep the sleep of the ages. You will awake without knowledge of me, and you will be rested. Dream a pleasant dream.” The soldier then stepped over the lieutenant and removed his tabard. “A deserved promotion.” The soldier laughed to himself.

The courtyard of Brightonhold Keep was largely unguarded, and no one suspected a lieutenant strolling across it as odd since the watch had just changed. The lieutenant entered the main chamber of the keep without incident, finding his way to the council chamber. It had been three hundred seasons since he had been in the halls of the keep. After a short time, his memory returned and he made his way into the chamber. The council chamber was a massive room with a long table at the far wall. Benches lined the rest of the room against the walls, and five massive columns in two rows supported a high, glass-domed ceiling on each side directly in front of the benches. An iron-bared cage stood to the front right of the council table. In the cage, on a bed, was the figure of a woman. One guard in robes stood watch.

The new lieutenant made his way toward the cage, cautiously looking for a way to subdue the guard. The lieutenant muttered something under his breath and without warning, the guard dropped to the floor unconscious. “Shey, Shey, can you hear me?” The lady slowly lifted her head.

“Nay, do not try to rescue me. I am doomed, and you are entering a trap!”

The lieutenant’s form began to shimmer and fade out. Instead, Ianthill dressed in his usual dark red robes materialized. He discarded the lieutenant’s tabard. “Can you stand up?”

The woman stirred to her feet, but she had to hunch over in the cage. Ianthill took the lieutenant’s halberd and pried off the lock with it. “Come now, quickly.”

As the woman stepped out of the cage, Ianthill realized she was not Lady Shey. Her features were sharper, and a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach told him magic was in use. He tossed the halberd aside, and his staff appeared in his hand. He pointed it at the woman. “Who are you?” he asked between clenched teeth.

The woman began to laugh. “Ianthill, you are an old fool.” The woman stood close to face him. “Did you really believe we would make it so easy for you?” He did not recognize the woman before him. “Who are you?” he asked again.

“Let me answer that,” a voice from behind said. “Her name is Kimala, and she works for me.”

“Drakkius,” Ianthill spat the name.

Drakkius entered the chamber and raised his hand. The room filled with Enforcers, surrounding Ianthill on all sides. At the table, the council of the Enforcers entered and sat at their places. “Where is the rest of your party, Ianthill? I know you are not stupid enough to come into Brightonhold alone.”

“What are you trying to accomplish, Drakkius? Even if you and Naneden take the Sacred Land, your madness will prevent you from using it.”

“Indeed, then why do you try so fervently to rid me from it?” Drakkius walked behind the council table. “It is my time, Ianthill; I have the power, and I intend to use it.”

“You speak only of yourself, Drakkius, what of Naneden?”

Drakkius walked around to Kimala, and put his arm around her shoulders, holding her in front of him, and then he sniffed her hair absently. “Naneden is around. Closer than you might think, but he is of no consequence. Do not worry yourself of him, Ianthill.”

Ianthill’s eyes narrowed as he looked at the table. “Yarbrille, are you foolish enough not to realize what and who this man is?” Yarbrille squirmed uncomfortably but said nothing.

“They are all in my service now, Ianthill, your cause has been abandoned.”

“Save your windy speeches for someone who might actually succumb to your insanity,” Ianthill said venomously.

Drakkius dropped his smug smile. “Chain him up,” he said flatly. Two Enforcers moved in and began to shackle Ianthill.

“Drakkius, I cannot allow you to move your army closer to Lux Enor.”

“You have no choice,” Drakkius said with a wave of his hand.

Ianthill raised his head and whistled. A battalion of Defenders burst into the chamber holding pikes against the surprised Enforcers. Gondrial walked through the chamber doors and stood ready beside Ianthill. Sylvalora also appeared behind him wearing her armored robes from Signal Hill. She waved the shackles off Ianthill with a gesture.

“Where have you been?” Ianthill whispered to her. “What are you doing here? Do you have any idea what you are doing?”

“I have come for a reason, Ianthill.”

Ianthill scowled at her. “It is foolish for you to be here.”

General Trayore, the supreme commander of the Defenders, marched in. “The Enforcers are no longer a force for the good of the people and are hereby dissolved by order of the Warden of Lux Enor. The Defenders will now take up their duties.” The general glared at the Enforcers near him. “Any man wishing absolution may now leave the chamber or be bound to their fate.” There was a pause as if no one knew what to do, and then slowly one Enforcer broke ranks and exited. Afterward, a flurry of several more Enforcers broke away, and Drakkius’s furious expression became evident as he thrust his hands forward, striking down one of the men in mid stride with a bolt of fire.

“Seize him!” General Trayore said, pointing at Drakkius. “This madness must come to an end.” Two Defenders moved toward Drakkius, but both fell before they took two steps. Drakkius twisted his hand, and with a sharp, quick thrust, he sent a dagger hurling at the general. The dagger entered blade first into his chest, and General Trayore’s face contorted horribly as he fell to the floor. Two of the Defenders moved to help him but were intercepted by two Enforcers. The room erupted in a frenzy of swords and pikes. Drakkius took a defensive posture, and Ianthill was pleased to see Yarbrille was trying to get at the maniac. More Enforcers entered the chamber from the corridors, and the Defenders fought them off.