Fate Rides Wicked: Volume I of the Lerilon Trilogy (53 page)

When Nandel stirred early the next morning, he saw
Doleof first. Next, he looked up. The morning light
poured in through the roof. “Oh, how much of that was a
dream?”

“None of it. And I have bad news.”

Nandel shot upright. “Cert!”

“Her magic saved you both and I thought at first I had saved
her in time. Lotha poisoned her. I thought she had
avoided her sting until I saw her change. Here she would
have died and not even Tych could have stopped the poison
from killing her.”

Nandel put his head between his knees. “Is she
irretrievable?”

“Lotha will have the cure, but Cert will be powerless to
resist her commands. I think the queen of the credarils has
made a mistake, however. Cert is pure good as much as
Crat was pure evil. She will only make the race easier to
return to good. There is no person strong enough to rescue
her, except her brother.” Doleof walked from the bed to
the southern window. “He cannot do it until after he fights
Rangdor. You must accept her loss for now, Nandel, until
after Tych’s battle. Then it may be possible for Corl and
Oakfeld to save her.” He turned back to face Nandel. “I
will go to the Hidden Kingdom with you to break the bad
news.”

“There is one powerful enough to rescue her besides
Tych. Me. Only Lotha could end my life, and then only
with great effort.”

“How is this so?”

“I am doomed to live from the last eclipse of hift and
nuvi to the next. I have seven thousand more years to go.
Once a warrior got the best of me and removed my arm and
cut me up horribly. I had broken bones and a cracked skull.
He left me for dead. I lay there for two years in pain, my
moaning keeping the animals away, but slowly my arm
grew back and my bones healed, and no scars remained. I
was only a new magician then. Now I rarely meet that
which can defeat me. After three thousand years of
memorizing spells there are some I won’t forget. That
much practice with a sword helps too.”

“You can’t go until after the battle with Rangdor.”

“I know. I also have knowledge of things Tych must
know after the battle but to tell him now would endanger
his quest. I will go with you to tell Morg and Greentree.
Then I will visit Tych. Nobody knows what I’ll do after
that.” The wizard stood and his cloak fell from his waist.
“Greentree will remove my head.”

“I won’t let her. You must, however, tell her.”

“You’re right, Doleof. You’ll have to teleport me.”
Doleof gestured he should follow him and led him down
into the cave. There he pulled out a magic, glowing sword
and a scabbard. “This should more than replace your blade.
You’ll have to remake your staff yourself. Now let us go.”
As Nandel buckled on the blade, Doleof touched him.

“What!?” Greentree’s sword flew to her hand and
came halfway to Nandel’s neck. Doleof stepped between
them. “Out of my way, Doleof, or you will die with him. I
swear it.”

“It was not Nandel’s fault, nor could it have been
stopped if she had been here. Because of her accelerated
training and Nandel’s efforts to save her, she is still alive.
He saved her life and she saved his.”

Greentree clenched her teeth and spoke through them.
“I do not consider life as a credaril to be life. Nandel must
redeem himself before he may ever return to the kingdom.”
With these words, the magic took over and Nandel
vanished. “Now, Doleof, explain how she was so easily
turned to evil but cannot be turned back without great
effort.” She turned and walked back towards the thrones,
where Morg sat in pale shock.

“Lotha’s poison could only be cured by her or another
god. Her power is great. Cert is not completely evil yet,
nor will she ever be. I feel Lotha has made a mistake.
Only the distance and the great evil between her and us will
keep us away. Nandel and Tych have the power to rescue
her, as Corl might with some help from Morg. All attempts
must wait until after Rangdor is defeated, or there will be
no world to return to.”

Greentree sat heavily and her fury gave way to the
despair that gripped Morg. “Doleof, you warned us. I
guess we should have been ready,” said Morg. “Tych’s
goal is more important, and I trust Nandel will do his best
to save her.”

“There is one other secret to Nandel’s immortality
which you may find encouraging. He cannot be killed by
mortal means. Only Lotha, Tych or Rangdor could kill
him. My fate is entwined with yours, my friends, from now
on.” Doleof vanished and joined Nandel outside. The
wizard stood staring at the valley, tears rolling down his
face.

“Nandel, let’s go tell her brothers. They should know.”
“Yes, let’s go. I also have other tasks to accomplish,”
said the wizard through his tears. The dragon became a
dragon and he climbed on. They disappeared into the late
morning sky.

Tych and Lendril listened to the story and tears crept
down their cheeks. “We don’t blame you, Nandel,” said
Tych. “We know you did your best.” The di Corl family
had lost its first member since Corl’s lover died in the flight
from the forangen onslaught. They discovered the valley a
year after her death.

“Tych, there are other things I know, that you need to
know. I cannot, however, tell you them until after the
battle with Rangdor. Will you submit to some magic to
bury them so deep, only a forget spell will bring them
back?”

“Why must you do this?”

“Rangdor is the number one priority, and these will
wait until he is gone. You must promise not to try to
retrieve them until after the battle.”

“I do.”

“You two must leave,” Nandel waved at Doleof and
Lendril, who stood and walked out.

The dragon and endaril could hear chanting as they
stood and watched the practice of Lake’s army. For a long
time they talked battle strategy, until night began to fall.
Finally, as lanterns came out and the evening meal served,
Nandel came out of the tent. “He will sleep normally until
morning. Then he will not even remember the memories,
nor attempt to find them. Both of you must remain silent
on this.”

“We will,” answered Lendril. “What will you do
now?”

“I will eat with you, then go in search of a service. I
will be at the Field of Scars when it is time.”

They ate and as Nandel promised, he wandered off to
the south. Doleof bade Lendril goodbye and went to find a
hidden place to change back to a dragon. All the soldiers
thought him to be a man like them.

The wizard entered the woods and quickly found a
sturdy branch of tamarack to build a new staff. He turned
towards Murlan and pulled out his dagger. As he walked to
whatever awaited, he began to strip the bark from the
branch. Only a small sigh escaped his lips.

Doleof landed his huge frame smoothly on the boulder.
The large rock sat atop Mont Andar, the tallest mountain in
the Andarins. From here he could see, with dragon-sized
vision, the entire Plain of Death to the north and the Field
of Scars to the south. He could feel a pull, the same feeling
that had called him here.

Then something caused him to launch into the air. As
he swept around to his right, he first saw the boulder licked
with flame, then the maker of the flame. He knew the
name of his attacker, a big red. Arfelimon circled with him
as they examined each other, archenemies remembering
their last encounter...

It happened when both Doleof and Arfelimon were
young. Only the endarils shared Li with the dragon races,
and there were many. One day, as Doleof returned from a
hunting trip, a large buck in his jaw, he saw two red
dragons leave his parents’ nest.

He sped quickly to them, but only his father still lived,
barely. Flame marks ran down his back. “Chase them,
Doleof. They are too weak to beat you. Use what I’ve
taught you, my son.” His father closed his eyes and his
head fell.

Doleof turned and raced across the early morning sky
after the two reds. As his father had predicted, their
wounds slowed them and he caught them quickly. Doleof
dove from above and removed the female’s badly damaged
wing. She fell the mile remaining between her and the
ground, exploding in helplessness.

The gold swept up and to his right, narrowly avoiding
the retaliation of the male. He reached a height of ten
thousand feet and began a tight circle. He looked for his
opponent and almost immediately found him laboring to
reach Doleof’s altitude. With grim determination he dove.
As soon as the red could hit him with his breath weapon he
swept left and then circled quickly back to the right. As
flames licked behind him he came around the red and
struck his back, clawing and tearing at the shoulder
muscles.

The male roared in pain as flying became even more
difficult. He began to fall slightly as Doleof came around
again. He charged and blinded the red with a cloud of
poison gas, slicing his claws deep into his opponent’s neck
on the pass. The dead dragon fell into the trees below,
knocking two down and leaving a dent in the ground.

Doleof solemnly returned to his nest. Suddenly,
another dragon tore into his back and his wing. “I am
Arfelimon. I will get my revenge when I am able.” Doleof
turned to see a red dragon only two years old diving away
to get speed. The gold could only watch, strong enough to
win if attacked but too weak to chase.

“I am Doleof. I will get my day, and you yours.” At
fifty Doleof already got premonitions, though his ability to
know his time of death wouldn’t develop for years. He
turned and limped home on injured wings...

One horn protruded from the high, flat forehead of a red
dragon. Two eyes set below the horn looked out across a
scaly, bear-like mouth and nose. Huge fangs filled the
jaws. “We meet again, Doleof. Revenge will be exacted
now.”

“We are even, Arfelimon.”

“No!” shouted the red. “One of us must die and end
this once and for all. My mother was the last female red
dragon to give birth and now only four males remain,
including me. You not only killed my parents, but also my
race, while your race once again grows.”

Doleof smiled at the wider, shorter and quicker dragon.
“So, you aren’t what called me here. Another gold dragon
has been born.”

“I felt it and came. I knew you’d be here. Let’s finish
this and then I’ll finish the baby.” They both turned upward
and rose until their bellies touched.

The dragons clawed each other and rolled away
backwards. They looped around and sought openings as
they approached for a pass. Doleof knocked his opponent
in the head and sent him spinning out of control. The gold
reached for altitude.

The red raced to the challenge and struck Doleof with
his shoulder. Like evenly matched warriors they began to
exchange blow for blow, neither doing serious damage but
both tiring. The battle moved south over the army of Li.
They looked up in amazement, but some had to run from
the drops of blood falling from above from both dragons.
For hours they continued like this, looking for the finishing
blow, roaring over villages to the fright of the humans in
them.

Finally, over the great lake, Arfelimon caught Doleof in
the right eye with a claw, puncturing it. He then smashed
into Doleof’s wing and broke it.

The older, more experienced gold had lost his eye but
not the battle. As he fell, he wrapped his tail around the
red’s neck and dove. The amazed sailors of a huge lake
voyaging ship fought to stay on deck as the wave from the
titanic warriors washed over the ship. Doleof dove right to
the bottom, slammed his opponent into a rock formation
and released him.

The thinner gold could swim better and breathe under
water. The red had to reach the surface or drown within a
few minutes, so opposite of his fiery nature was water.
Doleof knew he could never reach the surface two hundred
feet above, so bad were his injuries. Arfelimon recovered
his senses and strove upward. The gold caught him again
and wounded him with a claw down the belly. Using his
weight, the gold dragged the red ten times farther down.

On the bottom of the lake they engaged in furious,
bloody battle. Doleof had his tail wrapped around the neck
of the red and no matter how much Arfelimon clawed at it,
he didn’t let go. The looseness of the wrap kept the red
alive as he clawed and bit at the gold. The older dragon
struck back but hung on with his painful tail. Only the
thought of saving the newest gold kept him alive.

Arfelimon finally got his jaw clamped on the gold’s
neck and squeezed. In his frantic efforts to escape, Doleof
tore off the red’s wing. As the younger dragon freed
himself of the tail, the gold made one final claw and ripped
a long gash in the red’s belly. Arfelimon tried for the
surface, but drowned and fell to rest beside his enemy.

Only death won the battle as they rested at the bottom
of the great lake. There they would become only skeletal
reminders of the ancient rivalry between red and gold
dragons, begun with Arfelimon’s parents attack on
Doleof’s. More important, they would show the ultimate
fate of those that lived by hate, with only revenge on their
minds. The other three red dragons would die of old age
during the next three hundred years. The newborn gold
Doleof saved turned out to be a female. Her parents would
name her Doleofa in honor of her champion, for they all
knew of his battle and death. She would become as
important to Li as Doleof had ever been.

Tych’s trainees all stopped in their tracks. “What’s
wrong? Why do you stop?” he said to their frozen faces. A
soldier pointed behind Tych and he turned. A giant
platinum dragon floated in for a landing. Telepathically,
Tych said,
Hello, Buhlaht.