Shadow Of The Mountain (6 page)

BOOK: Shadow Of The Mountain
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As time crawled on, the black cloud grew and daytime was snuffed out on the flats. Tenlon could just make out sunlight in the distance behind him, but all of Amoria now fought in the night. The sight was otherworldly.

And just when Tenlon felt that all hope was lost, when he thought things could not get any worse, dragons began to break through the dark cloud and fall from the sky.

There were many and he tried to read their scales as they dropped, but it was a challenge in the gloom of the unnatural storm. He recognized Salara first, the young gold. The scales around his missing wing were dreadfully burnt and he spun lifelessly to the ground, smashing into a nearby hillside with a thunderous crash.

Gora he saw next, emerald green and nearly as old as Draxakis. The softer scales of her underbelly were torn open and much of her insides hung out, still connected. She fell like a stone and crashed into the crowded Amorian lines.

There must have been others he missed, for the beasts were dropping faster now, two and three at a time. They fell limp and lifeless, charred or still burning, with delicate wings twisted and outstretched by the fall to crash into both Amorian and Volrathi lines below.

Tenlon watched with dread as Vyra finally fell, life-mate to Draxakis. The silver scales of her sides were covered with heinous claw wounds and her neck was burnt all the way to the nose. The scales of her head were scorched almost completely off, leaving behind a thin spine, blackened skull, and sharp horns. It was then Tenlon knew Draxakis was alone.

After only a few hours, the Amorians were in disarray. Retreat was not an option for Healianos, Draxakis, or any of the green-clad soldiers fighting underneath the banner of Amoria. The Volrathi were set to sweep across the realm and cleanse the land of all who opposed them. And if retreat was not an option, then death was the alternative.

When Draxakis broke through the black clouds in a slow and lifeless spin, his bronze scales catching a dismal sliver of sunlight, Tenlon’s world ceased to be.

***

“There was a time when dragons called this land home,” the old man told him. “Long before they began to disappear. Back then the world was not divided by invisible lines on a map, great mountain chains, or raging rivers. It was not kings who made the kingdoms, but beasts. They could be found all over the realm, from the Western Isles to the frozen north, all of them different sizes, shape and temperament. No different than the rest of the world, the Danaki had their dragons as well. To be more precise, they had a dragon.

“They called her Kra-and, which translates loosely to man hunter in the Danakian tongue. She was a different kind of dragon, flightless and without wings. With six legs and scales the color of sand, Kra-and could dive deep beneath the desert and travel at great speeds. Few who saw her lived to tell the tale. Often she could be seen far across the dunes through the shimmering waves of heat, stirring up vast clouds of sand.

“As man’s population increased, so too did Kra-and’s boldness. Entire settlements of tents and Danaki travelers would disappear, their belongings ripped and scattered across the sand. One day the Shuri gathered a Danaki force, mounting a dangerous expedition to track Kra-and through the desert and see her destroyed. For two years they searched, and the dragon was never found, but they found something else. The expedition found Kra-and’s nest, and within that nest, her eggs. Not believing their luck, the desert men swiftly destroyed all within the cavern, save but one. A dragon’s egg could be of tremendous value to their mystics, so one was taken back to the city in the sand.

“Furious at the loss of her eggs, Kra-and went on a murderous rampage like never before. Hundreds lost their lives and the small Danaki army was powerless to stop her. The mystics, however, had ideas of their own.

“For months they examined the egg. They touched it, feeling its power and magic surging through them. Spending so much time with it, the mystics were affected by its magic. They suffered terrible hallucinations in their sleep as Kra-and’s egg poisoned their minds.”

“How could an egg poison someone?” Tenlon remembered wondering. “It hadn’t even hatched yet.”

“Dragons were creatures of this realm long before man. Some say they can read minds and control our bodies, if they so choose. The main point of the story is that even before it is hatched, an egg still possesses a dragon. And since it already had a proclivity towards violence from its mother, the egg was set to be a vile creature, yet still it wanted more,” the man paused. “Do you know what proclivity means?”

“Yes.”

“Of course you do. So, it wanted more power, more strength. It wanted to be greater than its mother.”

“What did the egg want?” Tenlon asked.

“It wanted to fly…”

 

Tenlon awoke beside Graille, not sure what had happened. He hadn’t been sleeping much on the march and seeing Draxakis fall must have triggered something inside him. He’d passed out from stress and exhaustion. The dream was something from his youth, but already it was slipping away like figures through the fog. Looking around, he saw the rest of his class scattered across the hillside beneath the wide storm cloud that formed earlier in the day. Graille told him Paktorian and the twenty apprentices had never returned.

It seemed that after the Amorian fleet was routed, there was a lull in the battle. Tenlon couldn’t understand it, for the day was lost.

The flats whispered the sounds of death in their ears, moaning and screaming beneath a rumbling, lightning-forked sky. Tenlon tried to shut out all the terrible sounds from his mind, but the act was impossible. He just sat there and stared at the ground, his mind buzzing and blank, lost. Hours passed. He knew not how long.

“Tenlon.” A portly apprentice was tugging at his sleeve.

He lifted his head up.

“What is it, Forgan?”

“Soldiers are looking for you.”

The boy nodded in the direction of two green-clad warriors walking through the hillside, speaking to sitting apprentices. One apprentice pointed in Tenlon’s direction, and the warriors began to make their way towards him.

“How do you know they’re looking for me?” questioned Tenlon, a queasy feeling growing in the pit of his stomach.

“They’re asking for you by name.”

The warriors approached his group.

“We are looking for a boy named Tenlon,” the taller of the two told the nearby youths.

Tenlon began looking around, pretending that he wasn’t who they were searching for. Stupid, for certain, but he had a terrible feeling upon seeing the soldiers and wanted nothing to do with them. No good could come of it.

The ruse might have worked, had it not been for the chubby finger of Forgan pointed at his head from behind.

“Are you Tenlon?” the second warrior stood above him, voice hard.

“Yes,” he muttered, looking to Graille for support but finding none.

The leather and iron-plated breastplate of the warrior creaked as he bent down, crouching uncomfortably close to him. His hair looked to be reddish-brown and cropped short, the dark stubble on his face flecked with gold. His eyes were green and alive with fire, although the rest of his face looked tired below the gloomy sky.

“I have had…a long day,” he told Tenlon, who noticed for the first time mud and blood splatters on the warriors green cloak and boots. “I think you should stand up when I speak to you,” he said quietly. “Because sometimes, when I’ve had a long, shitty day…a day like today…” His hands snapped out and grabbed Tenlon’s robe, wrenching him to his feet. “My hands will have a will of their own, and before I know it I’m holding a dead body and I can’t remember what happened.”

The warrior’s grip lifted his small frame nearly off the ground. Tenlon saw strange tattoos covering the man’s right arm, extending all the way to the back of his fist. Only a select few of the king’s soldiers were allowed to carry any such markings. This was not a man to anger.

“Desik,” spoke the taller warrior softly, his tone calm. “He’s frightened enough as it is.” Desik peered closely at Tenlon, hands tightening on his collar like heavy vices.

“I pissed an hour away looking for you. Next time you answer when we call your name, yeah?”

Tenlon nodded repeatedly and his feet were once more placed on solid ground. He smoothed out the wrinkles of his robe with shaking hands. Desik stepped away, stretching his arms above his head.

“He wasn’t going to hurt you,” the other warrior assured him. “My name is Accostas and that was Desik. We are looking for an apprentice named Tenlon. Something of a horse racer, if I’m correct.” He paused for confirmation. “Am I correct?” Tenlon was still rattled.

“I like…I like to ride.”

Accostas eyed him carefully, hardly convinced.

“You are correct,” Graille intervened, breaking the strange silence. “He is indeed a fine rider.” The soldier still wasn’t sure.

“Last spring back in the Willows, you took the purse atop an ivory stallion? You dusted three light cavalrymen?”

“That was me,” Tenlon said, making sure to choose his next words with care, not knowing the direction this was heading. “Though it was a gelding with a strong late charge. Your men were heavier than I. Timing is everything.” Accostas peered more intently at Tenlon as if sizing him up. A smile spread across his face.

“Indeed it is,” he said after a moment. “You are coming with us now.” The words lacked warmth, leaving no space for argument. Accostas headed towards the other warrior, expecting him to follow.

“My Lead Mage told me to stay here until ordered by a superior,” Tenlon blurted out, halting the tall warrior in his tracks. Accostas sighed. Desik came in close, eyes blazing.

“We are your superiors,” he hissed. “And you have been summoned, so you are coming with us. You can walk at our side like a man, or you can be carried, whining like a frightened child. Which shall it be?”  Tenlon looked from Accostas to Desik, their twin gazes blocking him into an uncomfortable corner.

“I’d like to walk,” he said lamely.

“Good,” Desik answered.

The two soldiers turned and began to leave, certain now that he’d follow. Tenlon gave a mystified look to Graille, who only shrugged his shoulders.

Defeated, he followed them in a daze, feeling as if he were floating outside his body and watching himself move. He didn’t want to be an apprentice anymore and no longer wished to train dragons. Heavy thunder rumbled above and his body began to shake with so much fear that his teeth rattled.

He wished to be anywhere but here and anyone but himself.

***

His legs had to work frantically to keep pace with the two striding warriors, both of whom were moving with urgency. The thunder above the flats had not diminished and lightning periodically streaked across the sky, illuminating the massive cloud that had formed earlier.

They made their way along a main path behind the Amorian camp. Hundreds of fires had been lit and men were sitting around in their armor, trying in vain to find some semblance of comfort amidst the shroud of battle and death.

The three approached several large tents sparsely lit by torches. Tenlon asked if that was where they were taking him. The taller warrior spoke.

“No. That’s not a place you would enjoy, I think.”

As they came closer to the tents, Tenlon agreed with Accostas. It was certainly not a place he would enjoy.

Screams of pain burst from the area, cutting through thunderclaps as the stench of blood and other foulness assaulted him. Outside the tents, torches cast a flickering glow against an endless line of dead soldiers wrapped in the coveted green cloaks of Amoria. A tent flap opened and two men in blood soaked leather aprons emerged carrying a body wrapped in green. They unceremoniously dropped the dead soldier on a nearby pile.

Tenlon stopped walking and felt as if he might vomit. He knew there were more tents like this spread throughout their camp, hundreds maybe.

“Come now, little mage,” Accostas said gently, pulling his arm. “This is not a place for reflection.”

Tenlon hurriedly continued on, trying not to look at the long lines of dead soldiers they passed. There were so many.

“Some of them are my age,” he said.

“They fought well,” Accostas nodded. “Best not dwell on it. We shouldn’t have taken you this way, but it is the shortest route. I apologize.”

After passing the surgery tents, they cut towards the front lines, weaving their way through campfires and sitting soldiers. Many of the men Tenlon saw were talking quietly, sharpening their short swords or splayed out across the grass to gaze up at the clouds. Some were eating and a few were even sleeping, snoring heavily into the night.

You wouldn’t think that they had just lost their entire dragon fleet
, Tenlon thought,
or that they might all be dead in a matter of days
.

This battle was folly. Healianos must have known the size of the Volrathi force and that without help we could not stand. A head-on attack against such might was foolish and now the bloodline of Draxakis was dead. There would be no journey to Odenna for Tenlon, no more dragons to study. Their land would now slip into chaos and the violent storm cloud that thundered above would extend over the hills, reaching toward his homeland to bury it in darkness. Few men would be left to protect Amoria and certainly not enough to stop this terrible threat.

After nearly half an hour, they approached an elaborate tent lined with torches, so massive that it could’ve held a city market beneath its canvas.

Armed guards seemed to stop them every few paces, speaking quietly to Tenlon‘s escorts. Upon seeing Desik, all questions would cease and they’d be waved through.

The Amorian standard of the bronze dragon fluttered above on high poles and more green-cloaked guards walked the tent, poking at corners or the base of walls with their spears. Other men with leashed hounds walked the area, their animals carefully sniffing the ground before moving on.

BOOK: Shadow Of The Mountain
2.69Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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