Dragonsight (14 page)

Leot nodded gravely. ‘Eight trolls, and I doubt that any of the wolves escaped. They’ll not forget that, to be sure.’

‘But they’ll be back,’ Daretor said. ‘Jelindel, what do you say?’

She nodded. ‘If Fa’red is controlling them, they will have little option. Distance alone favours us, for his magic will be stretched. Only if he travels here will his control strengthen. The trolls’ sense of self preservation sent them running, but we can’t count on that when they return.’

‘We’ll at least be better prepared for them,’ Leot said.

He had already ordered his men to mount a palisade around the perimeter. Jelindel had not the heart to tell him that the pointed staves would be useless against the forces that Fa’red could rally. Next time it could be something worse than wolves or trolls.

During the respite they quickly ate and warmed themselves with mead. Hardly had they finished when frantic shouting warned of the next attack. This time it was only the trolls, and the town militia triumphed for the loss of only two men.

The townsfolk rejoiced as the last troll limped away through the barrier, but Jelindel motioned for quiet. She sensed that the most dangerous attack of all was imminent.

‘Everybody get back!’ she shouted. ‘What comes now comes for me.’

The others fell back a little way. They all had a profound respect for the girl who could fight with steel as well as magic, and were reluctant to let her stand alone.

Daretor, Zimak and Osric joined her. ‘What do you see out there?’ Daretor asked.

Jelindel bit her lip. ‘I’m not sure.’

From behind came a noise, the sound of jeering, even laughter. Jelindel turned to see Thaddeus Pike hobbling with the help of a walking stick, his back bent, his feet shuffling.

‘Get back to your hut, Thaddeus,’ called one of the men, while others continued to jeer.

Thaddeus made his way to Jelindel’s side. To the three men he said, ‘Join the others.’ They did not move until Jelindel waved them away. Reluctantly, they went to stand with Leot and Uthven.

Leot was puzzled. ‘What does the old fool want?’

Daretor shook his head. ‘I’ve learnt not to question the ways of magic. But know this, if the old one and Jelindel fail, take your people and flee, have them scatter in all directions. What comes through that storm will not take kindly to being called here.’

‘There are few trolls left,’ Uthven said, clenching his sword handle so tightly that his knuckles whitened.

Daretor and Zimak exchanged looks, but they had no time for further talk. A dark shadow oozed out of the snow-covered earth and shaped itself into a slab of darkness that covered the ground as far as the eye could see. At the same time the storm abated somewhat, and visibility improved.

‘He wants us to see our doom all the more clearly,’ said Jelindel.

‘No, it’s that he cannot sustain both the storm and this adversary,’ said Thaddeus.

Rank upon rank of otherworldly creatures stretched away endlessly. Each one had two pairs of arms, wielding a sword or axe or pike. The bodies were covered in thick scales – a natural body armour – and the heads were snapping, slathering jaws that could swivel and attack in any direction: front, side, behind. They were mesmerisingly menacing.

The thing that chilled Jelindel’s heart was not so much their bestial appearance, but their discipline and precision. These were no dumb beasts sent to the slaughter. They were highly trained soldiers.

Her heart faltered. ‘By all the gods,’ she breathed, ‘what on Q’zar could have created such things?’

Beside her, Thaddeus snorted. ‘A riddle too easy to solve,’ he said. ‘Nothing on Q’zar created them. These were hatched on another paraworld.’

Jelindel stared at the uniform ranks. They started chanting a guttural mantra that filled the air. ‘There are too many,’ she said. ‘And I’m nearly spent.’

‘Then don’t spend so much next time,’ said Thaddeus. Jelindel shook her head. ‘More would have died if I had not,’ she said, then promptly dissolved the bubble covering the town. It seemed the sky fell in on them, for a sheet of ice collapsed with the bubble. It was followed by a light drizzle – all that remained of the storm’s fury.

Jelindel straightened as power surged back to her.

‘What of their deaths?’ Thaddeus asked. ‘You think dying is some kind of an end? Would you stop a caterpillar from becoming a butterfly just because the caterpillar thinks it is about to die?’

Jelindel said nothing.

‘We all die and we all become butterflies. There. Are you happy now?’ The mage’s eyes sparkled with mirth.

Jelindel looked at him with wonder in her eyes. ‘You speak of this like it is fact.’

‘Of course it is fact. Mind you, not all creatures become butterflies. Some become maggots, like those abominations out there. They are, if I am not very much mistaken, about to charge.’ He then wove a spell about Jelindel with his hands.

Jelindel shivered as something coursed her veins. ‘What did you do just then?’

Thaddeus sagged a little, as though the spell had drained him. ‘A simple thing,’ he said. ‘For later, perhaps. A charm against pimples.’

Jelindel did not bother to unravel his jest. She looked back at the ranks of their enemy. ‘There are too many,’ she said again.

‘Quality is far more important than quantity, child.’

Jelindel’s heart thumped out of rhythm. She remembered Lindkeer at the Temple in Arcadia saying precisely the same thing in precisely the same reproving tone.

The abominations charged. The creatures’ chanting rose to a crescendo, filling the heads of everyone; it grew into a kind of subsonic screech that made strong men clench their eyes in pain and forced others to their knees.

Jelindel felt the assault on her mind, but her training provided some protection from it. Thaddeus did not appear to be affected at all. He seemed tranquil, as if seated in his kitchen.

Jelindel started mustering a magical counter-assault. She built her spells and charms quickly, layering them one upon the other, connecting them in intuitively brilliant ways, fashioning a deadly instrument with which to repel the attack, knowing all along that it was pitifully inadequate.

Thaddeus laid a hand on her arm. ‘Hush,’ he said. The spell that was in Jelindel’s mind fell away. Instead, she heard a soft lilting voice she knew to be Thaddeus’s when he had been a young man. ‘Open yourself to me, child,’ he said. ‘Flow through me … let it grow.’

Jelindel opened herself to Thaddeus, her heart, her mind, her soul, her memories. She felt a raw power flow down her arm and into Thaddeus where his old withered hand gripped her. Then she was falling, not painfully, but slipping to the ground, as though there was no energy left to hold her up.

Thaddeus released Jelindel and she felt a heady feeling, as if waking from a dream. Behind her she heard an odd groan from the ranks of the defenders. She looked around. The enemy was sweeping in with awesome speed, a tidal wave of death and horror. Jelindel heard, rather than saw, the townspeople break ranks and flee. Someone, Leot perhaps, was ordering them to hold firm. Daretor had just screamed her name.

In the melee, Thaddeus flung aside his staff and walked out to meet the charge. He held out his arms in a welcoming gesture, as if inviting the monsters to come to him.

Jelindel noted that Thaddeus’s flesh was glowing, or else it was becoming translucent and a light from inside – or from some other place – was shining out.

The first of the creatures slammed into him but there was no impact. Snow storm, clouds, creatures … it seemed as though Thaddeus had become a portal and sucked in all evidence of Fa’red’s invasion.

And, as with many portals, it snapped shut, taking its creator with it.

Chapter 5

THE DRAGONS COME

O

f the Ogvenians, Leot alone stood his ground. He walked unsteadily to Jelindel. Daretor and Zimak had just helped her to her feet.

‘What in White Quell’s name just happened?’ Leot asked, shaken.

Jelindel took a deep breath as her body reacted to a surge of power. When she had the strength to answer, she said, ‘I believe Thaddeus has rid your people of some ancient curse. You will have sudden prosperity … I sense a cleansing of the air.’

Leot’s eyes hadn’t left the spot where Thaddeus had embraced the charging creatures. All that remained was a charred circle the circumference of the old man’s outstretched hands.

Jelindel went to the fused, glassy sand and broke off a fragment. She nodded. ‘If I were you, I would collect this glassy material before the wind buries it. Secure it in an urn and place it in a cairn at this spot. Dedicate it to Thaddeus Pike, Archmage,’ she said to Leot. She looked towards the basin that was once the Dragon’s Breath. To her enhanced senses the once blighted land seemed to be changing before her very eyes. ‘It is as he foretold,’ she added, almost to herself.

‘I’ll see to it immediately,’ Leot said, sensing the urgency in Jelindel’s words.

When Leot had left to find a stonemason, Daretor said, ‘What exactly
did
happen, Jelindel?
What
did Thaddeus foretell?’

Jelindel gestured helplessly. ‘It will take too long to explain.’

‘Try,’ Zimak said. ‘There’s something not quite right about this place. And if I know Fa’red, he’s going to jump on it from a great height.’

‘Not if we leave he won’t,’ Jelindel said wearily. ‘Take away the fuel and there is no fire. As for what happened here today, Thaddeus foretold of a “cleansing”, which involved our arrival. He’s been holding on to life, waiting patiently for us. To save this place, he needed to sustain his life force, and in doing so, he drained vital energy from the earth. Hence its barrenness of recent years. Had he not been alive to assist me, this town would have been destroyed. And us along with it.’

‘What a lot of codswallop,’ Zimak said. He almost said ‘prove it’, which might have been fatal, for those words were like flinging down a gauntlet to Jelindel.

‘
Exactly
why I didn’t want to explain everything,’ Jelindel said. Before Daretor could say anything, she said, ‘We need to find the Stone People. Luckily, Thaddeus has shown the way.’

‘So now you’re saying we have to travel to some other paraworld?’ Zimak glared at Jelindel, obviously displeased. ‘Because I have to tell you that my experiences with paraworlds have not been positive. I just want you to know that.’

‘Then don’t come,’ Jelindel snapped.

Daretor put a placating hand on Jelindel’s arm. ‘Normally I would be the last person to agree with Zimak, but this time I am inclined to take his side.’ Noticing Zimak’s wide grin, he added, ‘Just this once.’

‘There you are,’ Zimak said, as though Daretor’s backing settled the argument.

Daretor ignored him. ‘On the other hand, should you explain your motives much better than you have, I might change my mind.’

Jelindel took a deep breath. ‘Going to other paraworlds is a last resort. The process of discovering which one we need to visit would probably give us the information we need anyway.’

‘And what information might that be?’ said Zimak.

‘The name of the city that was Hadirr,’ responded Jelindel.

‘Could there be a correspondence between the old name and the new?’ Daretor asked.

‘Of course there could,’ Jelindel said. ‘But the name could also have been changed by later conquerors, or it may just have evolved, or it may be the same name in a different language. For instance, D’loom means “Gem of the Sea”. Two thousand years ago it was called
Liallon
, which means the same thing in the language of the Musea’a.’

‘This is all fascinating but let’s just
do
something,’ Zimak said. ‘We’re being poisoned, remember?’

Jelindel narrowed her eyes. ‘Very well, pack up.’

Zimak smiled. ‘Great.’

Jelindel looked at Osric. ‘I hope S’cressling hasn’t forgotten us.’

‘Now that the weather has cleared, she will come,’ he said confidently. ‘S’cressling will always seek me out.’

‘Reminds me of a certain witch,’ Zimak mumbled.

They bid goodbye to Leot and the other townsfolk who came out to see them off. Jelindel found it hard to look Leot in the eyes. She blamed herself for what had happened.

Leot understood. ‘Do not feel badly,’ he said. ‘It may be true that these things would not have occurred had you not come but we have learned much. There is a sense of unity and achievement in Ogven not felt in my lifetime.

‘More, such fantastic events may well draw the curious who no doubt will stop here a time and spend their money. We also discovered that one of our own, who we had long slighted, was a great mage. I wish I had known that before. Many times I sat at Thaddeus’s feet as a child and listened to his wondrous tales.’ He sighed, and for a moment seemed lost in memory.

‘But there is something else we got out of this,’ he went on, lifting his head proudly. He turned and pointed to the northwest from where the attacks had come. ‘Whatever has happened, whether because of Thaddeus’s magic, or the great quantity of snow, I do not know, all the wasteland to the south of here is now alive. Green buds and grass are sprouting, growing at an incredible rate. Underground springs have bubbled to the surface and streams are finding their way through the Dragon’s Breath. It is truly a miracle and will bring growth and prosperity, perhaps forever.’

‘We thank you for your understanding, and your kind words,’ Jelindel said, shaking the man’s hand. Then she and the others hoisted their packs to their shoulders. Osric put his fingers to his lips and blew a whistle that none could hear.

Moments later a dark speck appeared in the sky, rising up from the foothills of the Hazgar Mountains. As they watched, it grew larger. Leot shaded his eyes and squinted against the sun.

‘What manner of thing is this?’ he asked, puzzled. Many other townsfolk also shaded their eyes and watched the speck grow.

When it could be seen clearly the Ogvenians moaned in trepidation and in wonderment. A dragon in the Dragon’s Breath.

Leot stared at Jelindel. ‘Is this possible?’ he asked. ‘A creature out of the fairy tales told to children now comes?’

‘The dragons have come back to Q’zar,’ Jelindel said, smiling apologetically. ‘I kind of left that part out before. It would have taken too much explaining.’

S’cressling swooped overhead, huge and majestic. Leot swallowed. ‘You left out rather a large part, I am thinking,’ he said, awed.

S’cressling landed with a great whoosh. Jelindel and the others climbed aboard.

‘Tend Thaddeus’s cairn as you would your mother’s,’ Jelindel called to Leot.

Leot waved acknowledgement. Flowers had already been placed where the archmage had vanished. Even the disbelievers felt some kind of power emanating from the spot. Jelindel hoped that the marking spell at the cairn site made its presence felt long enough to instil some respect in the locals.

Soon they were heading south-west at a swift pace. Jelindel had decided they should head back to D’loom. She needed to scour the oldest libraries in Q’zar and to talk to other archmages. Along the way they would call in at Yuledan and look up Theroc, whose money they had taken in good faith.

Zimak laughed. ‘Wait till he sees us flapping in on the back of one of his aerial predators.’

Osric bristled. ‘S’cressling is not a predator.’

‘Try telling that to the people taken by Rakeem’s dragons.’

Osric stroked S’cressling’s red mane. ‘Then it is Rakeem who is the predator. For the Tower Inviolate dragons are under his control.’

Daretor squeezed Osric’s shoulder. ‘We shall see about that when we have found the dragonsight.’

Osric slumped back into his seat. How could these Q’zarans not realise that their lives were forfeit when they completed their task? he wondered. Or did they not care?

They flew west for the next two days, veering south when they crossed the Serpentire River. Stopping occasionally to rest S’cressling and replenish their water bladders, they otherwise flew on relentlessly. Leot had given them ample supplies of food. Their only enemy was the cold that never ceases to claw at those who fly.

On the morning of the fourth day they sighted the
Garrical Mountains far to the south-west. Osric asked S’cressling to stay low and get as close to Yuledan as possible without being seen. They did not want to alarm the already terrified townspeople, yet they did not want to land some distance away and face yet another long and probably dangerous walk.

‘How do you know Fa’red won’t try something here?’ Osric asked Jelindel.

‘Why should he?’ she asked. ‘I doubt very much that he thinks we can learn anything in Yuledan. We already know the nature of the aerial attackers that have been preying on the town.’

Osric was either inexperienced at low-flying manoeuvres or he had been distracted by thoughts of Fa’red. In any event, he overshot the landing spot and they were, all of a sudden, directly above the town. Frightened men and women looked up and ran for cover, gathering children as they went. Alarm bells began to toll.

‘Land over there,’ Jelindel told Osric. ‘If we delay they’ll start firing arrows at us or worse. Let’s get down quickly so they can see that we’re friendly.’

‘Somehow I think they won’t ever see a dragon as friendly,’ Zimak said.

Osric guided S’cressling to the large open area Jelindel had indicated. It was the town green, a place where children played, lovers strolled, and where fairs were held in summer. It ought have been a picturesque spot but it had a blighted look. Some of the trees were burnt and there were scorch marks on the ground.

‘The marks of dragons,’ said Osric, looking about in alarm.

S’cressling settled onto a low mound near the centre of the green but did not relax. Her nostrils flared when she sensed the fear in the town. She could smell the presence – faint now and several days old – of other dragons. Dark mucus dribbled from her snout and she moved her head restlessly from side to side, watching.

She did not have long to wait.

A group of archers appeared at the north end of the green and ran quickly to pre-arranged positions. Jelindel stood on the prow and waved a white cloth for all to see. Holding this aloft, she and Daretor climbed down and advanced towards the archers who fingered their arrows nervously and never took their eyes off the pair, as though they were daemons.

‘Come no closer,’ shouted a mountain of a man, with a yellow beard and no hair on his crown. ‘Go back where you came from. You are not welcome.’

‘Not welcome?’ Jelindel called back with deceptive composure. ‘We were invited.’

The man’s eyes were stony. ‘None here did so.’ ‘You are mistaken. I am Archmage Jelindel dek Mediesar. Theroc engaged our services.’

A grizzled scarecrow of a man pushed forward. He shaded his eyes and peered at them. He exclaimed, coming forward with a smile on his face.

‘Archmage,’ he said, eyeing the dragon nervously. ‘You came.’

‘These are taxing times, Theroc. I apologise for our tardiness. It is often said: better late than never. I hope this is one of those times.’

‘I beg forgiveness for our reception but the manner of your coming …’ He looked again at S’cressling who stared back at him. ‘The manner of your coming is … er … somewhat unexpected.’

‘You have seen then the nature of the beasts that assail you?’ asked Daretor.

Theroc nodded. ‘We have.’

‘They are dragons?’

Theroc nodded again, still eyeing S’cressling. ‘They are dragons indeed. Like this one here.’

‘Do not fear our friend,’ Jelindel said. ‘Call your people. Let us talk. There is much to explain.’

Two hours later they met in the Town Hall. The meeting got off to a bad start when a thin man with one eye and a flash burn across his left cheek accused them of being in league with the dragonriders.

‘I lost my wife in the last raid,’ he growled. ‘Why should we deal with you? How do we know you’re not here to study our defences and spy out our weaknesses?’ There were angry agreements, and much muttering and argument followed. Theroc did his best to calm everyone down, but they were in no mood to listen. After an hour Jelindel lost her patience.