Key of Living Fire (The Sword of the Dragon) (8 page)

Starfire stood before him, fully aflame. The wizard minions hesitated, and he cursed himself. He should have fought side by side with the woman. Taking on numbers such as these without his trusty sword—utter foolishness. As if to prove him right, Starfire ducked an enemy’s sword and opened her mouth. A flame rolled off her tongue and shot into her opponent’s nostril. The man screamed. Then he burst into flames and thudded to the hard ground.

A wailing wind swept through the valley, and the wizards retreated twenty feet.

“Xavion? It is really my ageless captain.” The familiar voice seemed to originate at the bridge.

With a painful shifting of his weight, Specter stood and accepted his cloak from Starfire’s outstretching hand. He slipped into it, taking comfort in the shadow of his hood. His eyes roved the broad iron bridge. Smoke rose, and the heat blurred the faces of the hundred wizards standing on the bridge.

The wizard ranks parted, and a tall, thin man dressed in black leather walked through their midst. The others bowed as he passed, and he laughed. “Xavion. Fearless commander of the Six.” Letrias smiled and raised the black staff in his hand. “Auron told me you tried to kill him in Burloi. But I said that it could not be you. You died over a thousand years ago.” His hand tapped his side.

Specter frowned at his fallen pupil.
God’s justice must fall on this man. But how?
He looked around and saw no hope. Thousands now followed Letrias. Thousands. How could God allow such evil to flourish? Could he not send the great Albino to wipe these people from Subterran? “This is between you and me, Letrias.”

“Oh, and what? Do you think I will let this child of the dragon escape? Do you expect me to let her live? Fool, my old master.” Letrias advanced within twelve feet of Starfire—and Specter saw too late what hung on the wizard’s belt. Letrias unbelted the whip and snapped it through the air. It wrapped around Specter’s legs, pulled him off the ground, and smashed him against the hard earth. Shards of light danced before his eyes like dust, and his vision blurred. Letrias laughed and Starfire screamed. He felt her collapse beside him.

Letrias stood over him and raised his wizard’s staff, swiveling it to rest the orb at its head on Specter’s chest. “You are beneath me in all things, old warrior. Now I will take what little you have left.”

Dantress Starfire stirred at that moment. Her fingers touched his shoulder, and her voice pleaded, “Forgive me, Lord God. Do not let this man pay for my selfish sin!”

Letrias crushed the staff’s orb into Specter’s ribs.

Everything turned blindingly white. His body floated into an enormous chamber. The great white dragon strode toward him, its eyes narrowed. “Specter?”

“Master.” He knelt before the creature and gazed back into its pink eyes. “How did I come here?”

The dragon frowned. “Has my daughter entered the Hidden Realm?”

“No, my master. She was deceived.”

“Deceived! But how came you here?” The dragon roared with terrible deafening power, and its scales radiated blinding light.

Specter clenched his fists and stood. “An angel who calls himself Moroni intercepted her as she opened the portal. First he sent her on an innocent errand of mercy. But then he offered her an opportunity to take down Letrias himself. I tried to pull her away, but the angel drew her and me into the Valley of Death.”

“The Valley of Death? My Starfire has fallen into Letrias’s lair? What hath she done?” The dragon and the room vanished. The Valley of Death rose around Specter, as real as it had been only a moment before.

Letrias leered down at Specter. At his belt hung the whip Prince Brian had so skillfully utilized in the ancient battles. Specter’s chest burned as if a red-hot poker pressed against it. He screamed and Letrias smiled.

“Hold him down,” the wizard ordered as he kicked Starfire’s hand off Specter’s shoulder. Several caped figures loomed out of the wizard ranks and pressed their booted feet on his chest and legs. Specter struggled to move. He needed to free himself, swing his weapon. But the wizards held firm as Letrias knelt and drew a dagger. He held the pointed blade against Specter’s wrist. As Specter widened his eyes and fought, Letrias grasped his chin and stared into his eyes. “Let us see if the great white dragon or your God will save you from me this day.”

The dagger severed Specter’s right hand at the wrist, detaching him from the scythe. Specter screamed again. As blood fled his arm, he glanced at the sky. The dragon would come. It must! But he saw no flash of white and knew that the dragon could not. He spat in Letrias’s face and smiled. “With God as my witness, I will live to see you impaled upon a spike!”

Wiping the spit from his face, Letrias frowned. Then he raised the dagger above Specter’s other wrist.

Gentle fingers entwined with Specter’s, and flames rolled over his body. Letrias’s eyes widened and shifted to Starfire. The fire engulfed Specter. Letrias and his armies, and the Valley of Death, gave place to a wall of fire all around Specter. He rolled on his side, and Starfire returned his gaze. They were safe within her transporting flames. “Forgive me, my dear guardian,” she said, gazing at his missing hand.

4

IN THE MOUNTAINS OF ULION

T
he walls of fire fell, and Specter found himself lying in a meadow on a mountainside. The scent of flowers filled the air. Yimshi’s bright rays bathed his already hot skin, and he winced. He clutched his stub of an arm and struggled to stand.

“What on Osira . . .?” Patient the shepherd ran toward him, climbing the mountain slope with the aid of his staff. The aged man pulled Specter to his feet and gaped at the stub of an arm.

Specter swallowed. “She went on without me! She has gone alone to the Hidden Realm.”

Patient frowned. “Alone?”

Above a distant green mountain peak, a flash of white caught Specter’s eye. The mighty white dragon shot overhead with a sound of thunder and slammed into the meadow. He gazed down upon Specter and the shepherd. Smoke rose from the dragon’s nostrils. It didn’t speak. Its enormous hand pushed Specter to the soft ground, and soothing strength poured into his body.

“My masters! Please. I must go. She sent me here and continued on to the Hidden Realm—alone.”

The dragon’s claws dug into the ground around him. Its hand pressed gently against his chest. “God is in control, Specter. Calm thyself. It was not my daughter that diverted you to this place; it was I. You have served long and well. I foresee you will play a key role in coming events. But for now your mind must be put at ease, your body reenergized. I am sending thee away to a distant place to forget war, suffering, and betrayal. Forget it all. Live at peace as you so fully deserve.”

“Master, I cannot find peace! Not now! Letrias has raised an army. Where on Subterran can I rest? His evil touches every corner of this world with penetrating fear. Even in Emperia your subjects feel it. Not because they lack security but because they bear the knowledge of the wizard’s rise! I am constantly reminded of it, driven to it. It is inescapable.”

The dragon raised its head and gazed into the distance. Its chest rose with long, deep breaths. “Another prophet dwells in Subterran, my friend. And within the boundaries of his mountains there is no fear. For the inhabitants of his land know nothing of Letrias. They are innocent of everything save the beauty and glory of God’s creation. Among them is unending peace, true tranquility.”

“Listen to him.” The shepherd knelt in the grass, his soft gaze unwavering. The old man’s hands grasped the shepherd’s staff.

Specter surrendered to the dragon’s strong hand and relaxed his body. He had to admit the cool grass soothing his tense muscles greatly calmed him. “A long time ago,” he said, “a warrior captain led his famed Six into battle. He taught them honorable combat and vengeance upon the practitioners of sorcery. Sweat and blood strengthened his bond with them. Companionship grew into brotherly love. I never had a family, or a sweetheart. The tender embrace of a woman might have softened the blow when Letrias led my men against me. I have not known true peace since my childhood. I look at all that has happened since Letrias’s rise—and I tremble for this world. My only pleasure is to heap just retributions upon my remaining apprentices.”

“And so your own words verify our greatest fears,” Patient said, standing with a frown. “Whom do you now serve, Specter?”

“I serve God’s will through you, my masters.”

The shepherd shook his head. “It is not the will of God that I hear coming from your heart, Specter. Rather, I see revenge falling like a mist in front of your eyes, clouding the purity of your missions.” The shepherd took a backward step to glance up at the dragon. “You may now go, my friend. I will look after this warrior myself. It is now the time for me to remind him of the things that matter most.”

Albino’s great hand lifted from Specter’s chest. The dragon nodded at the shepherd, spread its wings, and crouched. The air formed a white-and-blue vortex above and behind the creature. As if sucked into a tornado, the mighty creature shot into the vortex, its wings folded to its sides, and it vanished.

“Come! Come.” The shepherd beckoned to him and climbed the mountain’s green slope.

Specter sat up. He glanced about him at the green slope. Patches of red maple trees grew on the mountainside. A flock of snow-white sheep grazed at the meadow’s border, and small white goats bleated to one another as they bounded up the slope. He stood to follow Patient, then hesitated. Even though he knew the Valley of Death was a very great distance away from this place, he could still hear the tramp of Letrias’s army in his mind. They were powerful enough to crush the Hemmed Land.

He chided himself. That valley lay a long distance from the Hemmed Land. And now that Razes had fallen, Letrias had one less finger with which to claw.

A hand grasped his shoulder, and he shook himself back to the present. The old shepherd frowned up at him, blue eyes searching Specter’s face. “You must settle your mind, for I have something to show you.”

“Forgive me, my master. My mind wandered to a distant memory. But I will not let it happen again.”

“Clear your mind and follow me.” Patient climbed the mountain’s gentle slope, and Specter walked after him.

Flocks of sheep, some at least fifty in number, crossed the path as they climbed. But the shepherd parted them with his staff, nudging first one reluctant white body and then another to the side. The old man smiled, laughed at the animals, and shook his head. “Wonderful is God’s creation. Marvelous is the handiwork that we are privileged to behold. Specter, my friend, do you not find all of this pleasing?”

“I do.”

“You speak the right words without conviction, warrior. Have you forgotten to listen to your soul, your eternal body? Think on the beauty of God’s creation. Meditate on it, for in it you will find God’s greatest attributes revealed. Namely his eternal power, glory, purity, resurrecting power, and of course love. What is life without beauty? What are we without joy?”

“Would you like me to answer you, prophet? Or do you desire me to listen?”

The shepherd chuckled and glanced over his shoulder. “I have always appreciated your straightforward reaction to the events and people around you, Specter.” He turned away and hiked around a boulder. “Perhaps you
should
answer my questions. It may illuminate some things.”

Specter grunted and reached for the boulder. He intended to grasp it but realized too late that he’d used his stub of an arm instead. Tensing his arm, he used it as a pole and vaulted the boulder. “I have fought an endless war for nearly two lifetimes. I have seen an honorable young man slain in cold blood—slain by men I counted among my friends.” He quickened his pace to keep stride with the old man and clenched his fist. He let his gaze bore into the shepherd’s eyes. “The only joy I find comes from bringing the wicked to punishment, avenging the just, and saving innocent lives. Up here—on your mountaintop—you have a vastly different perspective than I. You are surrounded by peace. You hear only the birds and the sheep. Here the world feeds you contentment and life. But the lands I have dwelled in reward physical strength and prowess, not peace. Do you now condemn me for finding joy in deeds of valor?”

“Condemn you? No. I would not condemn you for what you have become. But . . .” The prophet led him through a small forest high on the mountain and stood in a meadow on the opposite side. Twin waterfalls gushed on either side of a cave entrance fronted by lush grass. A sheep bleated and Patient smiled. He reached down and picked up a white lamb. Holding the lamb under one arm, the shepherd pointed at the cave with his staff. “The greatest things in life, the most praiseworthy, are often the things we take for granted. And your heart will surely harden if it is continuously and only fed war and suffering.”